>^i«^S^»J^J^J^i**^;
iaf^i<sfs^»f&mg^st^!f&^
''/
<>%
. ^
n.'
V
m
REESE LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
Received^
Accessiofis No.
j^^Mt.
^,
^/^ Shelf J^
^^^u-^^5^^
-3v>
Ebua
'( t
=,^^
wmi
^^^
r>^
:.^.
l^-—. M
^^fer, :l^ M
/s. I
jC
.\ ^ s
1
ELEMENTS
xHENTAIi AND mORAIi SCIENCE
DESIGNED TO EXHIBIT THE
SUSCEPTIBILITIES OF THE MIND,
AlTD THE RULE
BY WHICH THB RECTITUDE OF ANY OF ITS STATE8 OR FEELINGS
SHOULD BE JUDGED.
\ f
BY GEORGE pklPNK, A. M.
' OF THB
PUBLISHED BY J. LEAVITT, 1 8a BKOADWAY.
BOSTON :
CROCKER & BREWSTER,
47 Washington Strc«t.
1829.
P3
PsrcH.
IBMRV
ar3i/
Vanderpool & Cole, Printers,
104 Beekman Street.
The subsequent pages owe their origin to the professional en-
gagements of the writer. Expected to impart instruction to the
students committed to his care, in the philosophy of the human
mind» as well as on subjects strictly theological, he devoted all
the time he could command to the task of drawing up a course of
lectures on the Elements of Mental and Moral Science, which
should be made to combine, as far as he found it practicable,
comprehension with brevity, and might be used as a text book in
his future prelections.
His object in the preparation of his lectures was not originality,
but usefulness. His sole desire was to guide the minds of his
pupils to what he regarded as the right decision upon the multi-
farious topics of inquiry which his plan embraced ; and whether
he attained that end by presenting to them the statements of
others, or what might be more properly denominated his own,
was to him a matter of no importance whatever.
In the prosecution of this object, the quotations made from the
works both of living and departed genius were of course nume-
rous. In short, it appeared to him that to present to his young
friends a statement of the sentiments of our most approved wri-
ters in relation to the important subjects to which he directed
their attention, combined with an effort to guide them to the
truth amidst this conflict of opinions, wouid prove one of the best
modes he could adopt for securing a competent acquaintance with
IV PREPACK.
those subjects ; nor when he afterward proceeded to prepare his'
manuscript for the press, did he see reason to adopt a different
course of proceeding. ,
The preceding statement will account for the free use which
he has made, in the following pages, of the writings of those illus-
trious men to whom the friends of mental science are under such
deep obligations. He ventures to state, however, that the pre-
sent work is not a mere compilation. He has endeavoured at
least to think for himself; and though he has mainly adopted the
views and the system of the late Dr. T. Brown, the attentive rea-
der will perceive that he differs from that writer on several im-
portant points — whether justly so or not, must of course be left
for the public to decide ; the difference will at any rate show that
he does not slavishly follow any leader, nor consent to hold his
mind in bondage to any man.
Unless the reader should be familiarly acquainted with the wri-
tings of Locke, Reid, Stewart, Brown, Welsh, &c., it is presumed
that he will deem it a great advantage to be presented with an
account of the views of these illustrious men ; he will thus be put
in possession of better and more ample means for forming an
enlightened judgment for himself, than if the sentiments of the
writer had been singly exhibited. And even many who are tole-
rably conversant with the subjects on which this volume treats,
may be glad to have their memories refreshed, and to be spared
the labour of making references — a trouble which they must other-
wise have undergone : while all who may honour this Work, by
taking it as their guide in the commencement of their studies,
will, it is hoped, be better prepared, in consequence of the plan
which it adopts, for an extensive course of reading, to which it is
designed ti invite and allure them.
The Author wishes to add a few words in reference to the sys-
tem which, as it has been already intimated, is mainly followed in
' PREFACE. V
the present Work, viz. that of Dr. Thomas Brown, late Profes-
sor of Moral Pliilosophy in the University of Edinburgh ; a sys-
tem which differs very considerably from the one which is still
advocated with so much ability by his predecessor, Mr. Dugald
Stewart. The sentiments of this latter gentleman are avowedly
formed upon those of his preceptor, Dr. Reid ; yet he has pre-
sented the same radical principles in so much more elegant a
dress — has adorned his pages with such varied and beautiful illus-
tration — and maintained so high a tone of moral eloquence, that
his writings, although it should be admitted that they have not
perhaps very greatly enlarged the boundaries of Mental Science,
have gained for their Author a larger measure of public applause,
than has been bestowed upon those even of his more original
predecessor.
The works of these distinguished men formed an epoch in the
history of Mental Science, second only in importance and splen-
dour to that which had been introduced by the labours of our im-
mortal Locke. Yet, without intending to detract from their great
merits, the present Writer ventures to predict that the time is not
far distant, when the publication of Dr. Brown's Lectures will be
regarded as constituting an era not less brilliant than any of the
preceding ones. The public have not as yet been just to the
great merits of the latter gentleman. Many circumstances,
which it is unnecessary to specify, have operated to prevent his
attainment of that unrivalled distinction as a metaphysician, to
which "his transcendent genius, blending together," as it did,
** all that is most gracefiil in fancy, with all that is most arduous
and recondite in original speculation," most justly entitles him.
There is one point only to which the Author of these pages
Would refer. He was a poet, and, therefore, as it has been
too hastily inferred, he cannot have been a solid anc/judicious
philosopher. Now if it were admitted that a brilliant imagi-
nation is not, generally speaking, found in union with those
powers which qualify an individual for abstract speculation and
"patient thouffht," it misrht still be maintained that Dr. Brown
VI PREFACE.
was an exception. In his writings " the lighter graces of poetry
are interspersed amongst the demonstrations of a profound and
original metaphysics. Never was philosophy so abstruse, yet
never was it seasoned so exquisitely, or spread over a page so
rich in all those attic delicacies of the imagination and the style,
which could make the study of it attractive."* It ought also
to be further observed, that the poetry, which is doubtless to
be found in Dr. Brown's philosophical works, is not only exqui-
site in itself, but invariably subordinated to the reasoning. His
imagination is yoked to his argument, and it is only for the
purpose of carrying it forward with greater rapidity and power
that he ever gives to the former the reins. In short, that splen-
dour of fancy which sometimes, it must be confessed, eclipses
thought, serves, in Dr. Brown, as it always should do, to set it in
the clearness of noon-day before the view of the reader.
Were it as certain, that the man who is not a poet must be a
metaphysician, as that Dr. Brown possessed, in an eminent de-
gree, the higher qualities of both, the writer of the present work
might venture, on that ground, to prefer some claim to the charac-
ter of a Mental Philosopher. No one can be more fully aware,
than he is himself, how impossible it is for him to shed over his
work those graces of style which give to the pages of Dr. Brown
so irresistible an attraction. He has not, accordingly, been guilty
of the folly of attempting it. His sole effort has been to render
the principles he advocates as intelligible as the abstract nature
of the subjects would allow. He has aimed only at correctness
and perspicuity — to think with accuracy and clearness himself,
and to convey to his readers a distinct conception of his meaning.
He ventures not to say, nor even to imagine, that he has been
uniformly successful. In a volume comprehending so wide a
variety of topics, each of them requiring for its full elucidation
considerable power of abstract thought, it were presumption to
* Fide Prospectus for a Monument to the memory of Dr. Brown, by
one of the most eloquent writers of the present day.
PflEfACE. Vll
conceive that there are no mistakes of doctrine as well as of
phraseology ; and he expects to derive much instruction from the
friendly remarks (for he will not anticipate any of a different
description) of the various critics who may honour his work with
their notice. He trusts, however, that it will not be entirely use-
less. He can with truth say, that his object in thus venturing to
appear at the bar of the public, has been to advance the interests
of what he acknowledges is to him a favourite science. He re-
gards that science as being even yet in a state of infancy ; and
when succeeding writers shall have carried it, as they doubtless
will, to a higher point of advancement than that to which it has
at present attained, he trusts that, though he may be constrained
by their labours to relinquish some of his present sentiments, he
shall not be the last to offer them his thanks.
' In committing this volume to the press, the Author has had
more immediately in view the benefit of his junior brethren in the
ministry ; and of that large body of British youths whom the ad-
vancing spirit of the age will compel to devote some attention to
the subjects on which it treats, and who may feel their need of
some such assistance as the present Work attempts to supply.
At the same time it has not received any such pecuhar adaptation
to either of these classes as to render it, on that account, less fit
for circulation beyond the boundary of the circle just referred to.
The connexion between some of the doctrines of Mental Science,
and various parts of Theological Truth, has indeed been exhi-
bited ; and it is hoped that this circumstance will not render the
volume less acceptable to those whose religious opinions are in
harmony with the sentiments of the Writer. Yet he is not aware
that his Theology has influenced his philosophical opinions. He
rests the views he entertains concerning the nature and properties
of the human mind, upon the ground on which he believes in the
ductility, &c. &c. of gold — on the ground, that is, of observation
alone. He has endeavoured to examine the substance mind, as
we examine the substance gold ; and he has ascribed no proper-
ties to it but such as in this manner he found, or, at least, fancied
VIU PREFACJt:.
he found it to possess. He has certainly rejoiced to see that what
he regards as the true principles of Mental Science, are in union
with those views of revealed truth, which appear to him of great
? and paramount importance ; his faith in both has been confirmed
by the discovery of the alliance. Yet it would be to do injustice
to the Work to suppose that it attempts to found a system of Men-
tal Philosophy on any peculiar religious opinions. It is conducted
on philosophical principles ; and it respectfully invites the candid
attention of the man of science, as well as of the friend of religion.
A regard to brevity has prevented the Author's enlarging on
some points upon which he wished to enter more fully. He
deemed it, on various accounts, inexpedient that the work should
extend beyond one volume. Should it happen to obtain so much
favour from the public as to render a second edition necessary, he
has it in contemplation to expand considerably that part which
treats on Moral Science, or rather to introduce additional topics
and discussions ; and either to abridge the former part, or to add
another volume, as circumstances and the advice of friends may
seem to direct. In its present form he solicits for it the kind con-
sideration of his friends, and the candid attention of an enlight-
ened public.
Blackburn Academy, 1828.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. I.
TAQX
IMTRODUCTIOir.
All philosophical inquiries relate to Matter or Mind — ^importance of a
knowledge of the latter — its influence upon physical science, in
Education, Poetry, Eloquence, Criticism^ Moral Science, Theology,
&c. — its tendency to strengthen the faculties, &c. &c 17
CHAP U.
THS OBJSCT OF IlfTXULECTUAI. SCIENCE; AUTD THE MODE IN
WHICH OUR INQXHRIES SHOULD BE CONDUCTED.
Inquiries limited to the phaenomena of Mind — its essence unknown,
but not material — its properties to be ascertained by observation
alone — the only questions are, What are the elements of our
Thoughts, &c. and the order of their occurrence— the nature of
Causation, Mental Analysis, &c
CHAP. m.
THE TRUE NATURE OP THE POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES OF
THE MIND EXPLAINED.
Thoughts, Ideas, Sensations, &c. are the Mind itself in particular states —
Mental Powers, &c. are capabilities of existing in these states — The
nature of Physical Qualities, &c 46
CHAP. I?.
THE MANNER IN WHICH OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE MENTAL PH2EN0»
MENA IS OBTAINED.
The nature of Consciousness— statements of Reid, Stewart, Welsh,
Brown, &Cr— not a distinct power, &c 65
2
CONTENTS.
CHAP. V.
THE ORIGIN OF THE NOTION OF SELF, AND THE IDENTITY OF THE
THINKING PRINCIPLE, &C. &C.
Difference between Stewart and Brown — The notion of Self, and the
notion of Identity, not the same — the former intuitive, &c 63
CHAP. VI.
ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT OF THE MENTAL PHJBNOMENA.
The power of recognizing Resemblances the basis of classification —
different principles on which it may be conducted — modes adopted
by Reid, Stewart, and Brown — reasons for following the latter : • 68
DIVISIOJSri.
External Aflfections ....'.. ; 80
Order I. — Less definite External Affections. . . 81
Order II. — Sensations. . 90
GENERAL REMARKS CONCERNING SENSATION:
Ptrs<— All Sensation is in the Mind 91
Second — The term denotes those states of mind which directly result
from a change in the state of the Organ QQ
Third — It is not confined to those which are decidedly pleasurable or
painful 98
Fourth — The nature of the previous change in the state of the organ
is unknown 99
Fifth— Th& connexion between Matter and Mind is unknown— attempts
to account for it — the theories of Des Cartes, Dr. Briggs — Hartley —
fallacy — no especial mystery here 100
Sixth — External objects are known only relatively 108
Important difference between Reid and Brown on this subject —
mistakes of Reid and Stewart in reference to Primary and Secondary
Qualities and Perception — its true nature explained — Ancient theory
of Perception by Images — Examined.
Seventh— To Sensation all our knowledge may be traced 131
Statements of Locke, Leibnitz, Shaftesbury, Stewart, &c. — Examined.
CLASSIFICATION OF OUR SENSATIONS.
Class I. — Sensations of Smell,
Considered in the following Order:— The Organ — the Sensations — the
Properties which produce them— the Knowledge derived from them 140
CONTENTS. 3U
PAGE
' CX«A8S II. — I^EM^SATIOirs OF TASTE.
The same order 146
Class III. — Sehtsations of Hsaring.
The same order 149
Class IV.— Sensations of Touch.
The same order — Our knowledge of things external is not derived from
the sense of Touch, but from Muscular Sensations — by Intuition —
Statements of Reid, Brown, Welsh, &c 152
Class V.—Sknsations of Sight.
The same order — The knowledge of Distance, Magnitude, &c. not gained
by this Sense — Extension involved perhaps in our original percep-
tions— Opinions of Reid, Brown, &c .165
DmSIOJ>r JL
INTERNAL AFFECTIONS.
Proof of their existence — tlieir nature — importance — Phrenology — must
be analyzed and classified — caution necessary here — mistakes of
Condillac, Reid, &c 176
Order I. — Intblllectual States of Mind 189
CI.ASS I. — Simple Suggestions.
Explained— the power by which they arise— the phrase, * association of
ideas,' improper — importance of the difference between Reid and
Brown here— value of the faculty of Suggestion— Laws of Suggestion
stated by Hume, Stewart, &c. — may be resolved into three - - - 191
First Law of Suggestion.
Resemblance.
Analagous as well as resembling objects are suggested — tendency to
such suggestions gives existence to the Metaphor, Simile — enlarges
the boundaries of the arts and sciences, &c 200
Second Law of Suggestion.
Contrast .... ...... 204
Xll CONTENTS.
PAGE
Third Law of Suggestion.
CONTIGUITY.
Objects contiguous in Place and in Time are suggested — influence of
this law in the study of Chronology, History, &c. — circumstances
which modify the influence of these laws — especially constitutional
differences — original tendencies to different species of Suggestions,
give birth to genius— its nature— the faculty of Suggestion powerfully
stimulated by objects of Perception — Conceptions may co-exist - - 206
ATTENTIOWr,
Not an original power — ^but Desire co-existing with some other mental
affection - - 215
CONCEPTION, MEMORY, IMAGINATION.
Statements of preceding writers — are not distinct powers — may be
resolved into Suggestion — why they have been considered distinct —
Reminiscence — mistakes in reference to Imagination — the separate
parts of complex conceptions arise neither directly nor indirectly by
Volition — what takes place in the mind when Arguments and Images
are said to be selected ----- 222
HABIT -- 240
Class II. — Conceptions of Relation.
Their nature explained — different from Simple Conceptions — and from
Perceptions — imply the existence of a distinct Power - - - - -244
Species I. — Relations of Co-Existence.
Position, Resemblance or Difference, Proportion, Degree, Comprehen-
sion — the faculty of recognizing Resemblances the source of classifi-
cation and of general terms — their nature explained — Nominalists
and Realists — mistakes of both — proof that we have general Ideas —
explanation of their nature . ------------- 248
JUDGING, REASONING, &C.
General statements of Reid and Stewart — the power of recognizing
relations accounts for the phaenomena of Judging, &c. &c. — a mental
Judgment is the recognition of a relation — when expressed in words
is a Proposition — Reasoning consists of a series of Propositions, each
expressing a relation of Comprehension — explanations and illustra-
tions — all series of such propositions do not constitute Reasoning —
the particular connexion between each which is necessary — the
manner in which they arise mentally in the required order — not by
Sagacity, but Suggestion --- 256
CONTENTS. XUl
ABSTRACTION-.
Obscurity of some preceding writers — may be resolved into Suggestion —
Abstract Notions— their nature— how formed 269
Species II. — Relations of Succession.
Conceptions of the ordei of Events — supply the place of Histoiy —
Prophecy 274
Order II. — Emotions.
Differ from Intellectual States — must be analyzed and classified— do
not admit of generic distinctions — examination of Cogan's state-
ments — indefinite — self-contradictoiy— different modes of classifying
them stated — Dr. Brown's arrangement — why adopted 276
Class I. — Immediate Emotions. ----- 288
Cheerfitlness ..-- 289
Melancholy 290
surprise, wonder, and astonishment.
Called by Cogan Introductory Emotions — his obscurity — are distinct
and original feelings — mistake of Adam Smith — their moral use - - 293
Languor 299
An Emotion, not a Sensation— of a pleasing kind — transferred to the
object which excites it — which is hence called Beautiful — is an
affection of Mind only — not an external Essence — inquiry whether
any material objects originally awaken the Emotion — opinions of
Dr. Brown and Mr. Payne Knight on one side, and of Messrs.
Alison and Jeffrey on the other — Reasons for considering Beauty as
the result of association 300
SUBLIMITY.
The Emotion is transferred to the object — Beauty and Sublimity
probably different Emotions — Sublimity in material objects the result
of Association — apparent inconsistency of Dr. Brown. ----- 316
Deformity and Ludicrousness 322
MORAL approbation AND DISAPPROBATION.
The Mind formed to approve what is right, &c., the moral Emotion
follows the moral judgment — conceived mistake of Dr. Brown —
importance of these Emotions 323
xiv CONTENl^^
PAGE
1,0VE AND HATRED.
Analysis of each — importance of both
SYMPATHY
Is felt with Pleasure as well as Pain — perhaps with the latter more power-
fully — why so — may perhaps be resolved into Suggestion — displays
the Divine goodness - 332
PRIDE AND HUMILITY
Explained — are Emotions — their moral aspect -----.-. 333
Class II. — Retrospective Emotions . . - - 341
Its nature explained — modifications — not evil per se, but in danger of
becoming so --_-----_.- md
gratitude,
A modification of Love — ^kindled by a conception of the amiableness of
the benefactor 344
regret and gladness
Contain the Emotion, and a conception of its cause — most events awaken
both Emotions — importance of a desire to trace their favourable
consequences - --. 346
remorse and self-approbation.
Explained — distinct from Moral Approbation and Disapprobation — con-
stitute the power of Conscience — statements of different writers - - 347
Class III. — Prospective Emotions.
Desire and Fear explained and distinguished — the origin of Desire —
statements of Drs. Price and Brown— Reasons for dissenting from
them — different gradations of Desire expressed by the terms Wish,
Hope, Expectation, Confidence, &c.— these not distinct Emotions—
the nature of the Will— accounts of Mr. Locke, Dr. Reid, &c.
mistakes — statements of Dr. Brown — Volition is Desire, arising in
particular circumstances — cannot, therefore, be opposite to each
other — application of the foregoing doctrine to Rom. vii. 15. — to the
question of Liberty and Necessity— to the notion of the Self-deter-
mining Power of the Will, &c.— particular Desires 351
CONTENTS. Xy
PAGE
THE DESIRE OF CONTINUED EXISTENCE,
One of the most universal of our Desires— existence a good per se —
chiefly valuable as that which may be rendered happy — the Desire of
Life not improper in itself—- a principle of great practical importance, 372
THE DESIRE OF SOCIETY.
Whether original — in what sense it is so----- 373
THE DESIRE OF KNOWLEDGE.
Universality of the principle — manner in which it operates — Knowledge
in itself deUghtful— Klesired consequently on its own account — chiefly
for the sake of its consequences -___.. 375
THE DESIRE OF POWER.
Its origin— progress— may lead to the Desire of Knowledge- Elo-
quence — Rank, Station, &c. — its moral character— the Desire of
Wealth— how it arises— statements of Brown 378
THE DESIRE OF THE SSTEKIC AND L.0VX OF OTHERS,
A distinct and original £motion-4t8 moral character 364
THE DESIRE OF 8ITPERI0RITT
Is an original principle— Emulation not to be confounded with Envy-
not evil in itself— whether lawful to appeal to it— afl&rmed - - - 386
THE ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE.
The difference between Cc^pabilities of Thinking, Feeling, &c. and the
Rectitude of particular Thoughts, &c.— Mental Science inquires con-
cerning the former, — Moral Science, the latter. — Inquiries concerning
the Rectitude of actions suppose a moral rule, &c.— important to
ascertain what that i»— first Inquiry ---- -- 389^
WHAT 18 RECTITUDES
A quality in actions— an essential distinction between Right and
Wrong— examination of various systems concerning the nature of
Virtue Z9^
First— The Sceptical System — on what grounded— the foundation in-
secure—the theory of Hobbes, that Law gives actions a moral cha-
racter, shown to be fiadse .«.. Qnd
XVI CONTENTS,
PAG£
Secondly— The system of those who place the foundation of virtue in
the Will of God— distinction to be observed— actions are not right
because commanded, but commanded because they are right - - - 396
Thirdly—The systems of those who represent Virtue as depending upon
the constitution of the Mind— Theories of Hutcheson, Adam Smith,
Brown — each has common and peculiar difficulties to encounter-
considered separately— Dr. Brown's at length— statement of his
opinions on the subject of Morals— shown to be contrary to his own
principles of Philosophy— Objections ------- _-- 399
Fourthly—The system of those who maintain that the consequences of
actions impart to them their moral character— differences among the
advocates of the general system — arguments in support of it— what
may be conceded— arguments against it— the systems of Private and
Public Utility opposed— at variance with the manner in which moral
emotions arise— contrary to Scripture -_- 422
JF^feZy— Rectitude is the conformity of affections and actions with
Relations— an account of the relations in which we stand to God and
to each other — some of the relations arbitrary — others not— the obli-
gations which grow out of them never so— the systems of Clarke,
Price— obscurity and mistakes of the latter— neither our Perceptions
nor our Emotions a perfect criterion of virtue— that criterion the
perfect intellect of God guided in its decisions by his infinitely holy
nature— the nature of God the ultimate foundation and criterion of
Rectitude 436
WHAT IS THE STANDARD OF RECTITUDE ?
This question resolves itself into an inquiry, what Revelation God has
made of himself— the material Creation contains a Revelation of him —
improper language sometimes used here— the Scriptures the most
Perfect Revelation— the office of Reason— the only question is, What
readest thou ?-------------- — -- 446
OF THJ
'UiriVEESITT,
&LI
.^MENTS
OF
MENTAIi AND mORAIi SCIENCE.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
" The whole system of bodies in the universe,'* as it has
been very justly stated, " may be called the Material world;
the whole system of minds, from the infinite Creator, to
the meanest creature endowed with thought, may be called
the Intellectual world."
Such being the case, the subject of all philosophical in-
quiries must be either Matter or Mind, To investigate
the properties of the former, is the object of Physical Sci-
ence ; to develope the nature and operations of the latter,
belongs to the department of Metaphysics, or Mental Phi-
losophy.
It is true that, as the mind is not thought or feeling, but
THAT which thinks and feels, all our speculations with re-
gard to mind belong to the general department of Physics*
We do not, however, regret this arbitrary separation of the
philosophy of Mind from that of Matter. It leads to a divi-
sion of literary labour, favourable to the advancement of
both.
Confining our observation to this world, the mind of man
must be allowed to be the noblest production of Almighty
power : it deserves, therefore, our closest study. It must.
3
18
Ii\TRODUCTION.
however, be admitted, that an investigation of the nature
imd properties of Mind, is not unattended with difficulty ;
and that it may be conducted in a manner httle calculated
to yield much valuable fruit. To these two causes we may,
perhaps, chiefly trace that absurd prejudice against all
inquiries of this nature, which prevails — we lament the
necessity of admitting — to a considerable extent, even
in the present day. The prejudice is properly designated
absurd, for Mr. Hume long ago observed, that " all the
sciences have a relation to human nature." It is mani-
fest, indeed, that the mind is the instrument which is
employed in every disquisition into which we enter ; the
measure of success which attends our application of
this instrument must, accordingly, depend, in some de-
gree at any rate, upon the perfection of our know-
ledge of its nature. The importance, however, of Mental
Science is not a subject to be thus cursorily dismissed ; the
subsequent part of this chapter will, therefore, be devoted
to a more full development of that importance.
A writer of powerful talents,* has endeavoured to depre-
ciate all investigations of this kind by statements of which
the following is the substance. Matter and Mind present
distinct pha^nomena, of which the former may be the sub-
ject of actual experiment, the latter only of observation.
By experiments in physics, the nature of any substance
may be so ascertained, as to enable us to manage it at
pleasure. With regard to mind, the case, it is alleged, is
different. Here we can do no more than observe the phoeno-
mena ; their order and succession are beyond our control.
We may examine them minutely ;. we may describe them
accurately ; but, as we cannot subject them to experiment,
we obtain no more power over them. " In metaphysics
certainly," he adds, " knowledge is not power ; instead of
producing new phoenomena to elucidate the old, by well-
contrived and well-conducted experiments, the most dili-
gent inquirer can do no more than register and arrange
the appearances, which he can neither account for, nor
control."
'■^ Vide Edinburg^h Review, Vol. III. p. 269-
INTRODUCTION. 19
Mr. Stewart admits the premises of this writer, without
acquiescing in his conclusion ; because, as he states, "the
difference between experiment and observation consists
merely in the comparative rapidity with which they accom-
plish their discoveries ; or rather," he adds, " in the com-
parative command we possess over them, as instruments
for the investigation of truth. The discoveries of both,
when actually effected, are so precisely of the same kind,
that it may safely be affirmed, there is Jiot a single proposi-
tion true of the one, which will not be found to hold equally
with respect to the other."*
A little consideration may, perhaps, serve to convince us,
that Mr. Stewart has admitted more than he needed to
have done, — that the distinction of the objector is a dis-
tinction without a difference : for the business of the philo-
sopher is observation, and observation alone. He is to
watch how the processes of nature (the term nature is used
here to prevent circumlocution) are carried on in the de-
partments both of matter, and of mind. It is possible,
indeed, to secure, by a little effort on our part, a more fre-
quent recurrence of some of these processes than would
otherwise take place. Instead of watching, for instance,
for the accidental fall of a stone from a certain eminence,
in order to ascertain at what rate the velocity of falling
bodies is accelerated, we may cause it to be frequently
thrown from that eminence, and thus gain, in considerable
less time, tlie desired information; but still there is nothing
more than observation here. The stone is brought to the
ground, in each case, by the laws of nature (to adopt popu-
lar phraseology ;) its motion is accelerated, in each case,
by the same laws ; and we watch the process of descent,
that we may ascertain the law of acceleration.
Should it be said that the essence of the experiment con-
sists in giving the motion to the stone, and not in the no-
tice we take of the manner and velocity of its descent, it
will be easy to reply, that we may, in a similar manner,
make experiments upon mind. We may set Mind in ac-
* Philesophical Essays, pp. 33, 34.
20 INTRODUCTION.
tion as well as Matter ; and to every attempt to discover
the laws of Mind, by originating any mental process, either
in our own bosoms, or in the bosoms of others, the name
of experiment may be given with as much propriety as to
any trial in the department of physics.
And if mind can be thus subjected to trial, or even to
observation only, in the sense of the objector, so that the
general laws which guide its operations may be ascer-
tained, why should it be said that knowledge, in the philo-
sophy of mind, is not power ? Why may not a knowledge
of general laws be turned to a good practical account, in
the one case, as well as in the other ? The assertions of the
Reviewer are at direct variance with the facts of the case.
" What," says Mr. Stewart, " is the whole business of edu-
cation, when systematically and judiciously conducted, but
a practical application of rules, deduced from our own
experiments, or from those of others, on the most effectual
modes of developing and of cultivating the intellectual fa-
culties and the moral principles ?" He adds, with great
truth, '^ that education would be more systematic and en-
lightened, if the powers and faculties on which it operates
were more scientifically examined, and better understood."
These remarks may be sufficient to show that the objec-
tion to which reference has been made, ought not to pre-
vent our entrance into the temple of Mental Science. To
this entrance many considerations invite us.
1. The important influence of Mind, and a knowledge
of Mind, upon physical science in general. Science is
the comparison of phcenomena^ and the discovery of their
agreement^ or disagreement^ — or the- order of their succes-
sion. All science is, then, as Dr. Brown very justly states,
in the mind ; for it is the mind which perceives, arranges,
judges, reasons, &c. ; and these perceptions, classifica-
tions, and reasonings, which are purely mental phsenomena,
constitute science. There might, accordingly, be objects
of science without mind, but not science itself; and, since
all science is in the mind, and must, consequently, derive
its character from the nature and susceptibilities of the
mind, it is manifest, that the constitution of the latter
INTRODUCTION. 21
could undergo no material change, without effecting an
entire alteration in the aspect of all physical science.*
But though this should be conceded, it might still be
objected, that the admission does not prove the necessity
of possessing any knowledge of the mind ; that men may
make great progress in physical science, who pay no at-
tention to intellectual philosophy. We reply, that unless
they conduct their investigations according to rules which
nothing but a knowledge of mind can supply, the hope of
a satisfactory result must be groundless. The history of
the world establishes, beyond all question, the truth of the
above statement. To what is it to be ascribed, that phy-
sical science, previous to the time of Bacon, presented so
meagre and dwarfish an appearance ? Were there, amongst
its votaries, no men of ardour and genius ? This will not
be pretended. The truth is, that some of them possessed
transcendent talent ; but their profound ignorance of the
human mind, impelled them to a blind activity more mis-
chievous than idleness itself. " It is not," says Dr. Brown,
" the waste of intellect, as it lies torpid in the great multi-
tude of our race, that is alone to be regretted in relation
to science, which, in better circumstances, it might improve
and adorn. It is, in many cases, the very industry of in-
tellect, busily exerted, but exerted in labours that must be
profitless, because the objects, to which the labour is di-
rected, are beyond the reach of man."t
" It is of great use to the sailor," says Mr. Locke, " to
know the length of his line, though he cannot with it
fathom all the depths of the ocean." The Anti-Baconian
philosophers did not know the length of their line. They
had not properly surveyed the powers of their minds ; and
the misdirected "industry of intellect" carried them into
fields of investigation, from whence nothing which pro-
mised any benefit to mankind, could possibly be gathered.
Nor was it till Bacon had introduced juster principles of
physical inquiry — principles which were the result of more
* Fide Brown's Lectures, Vol. I. p. 17—26.
t Vol. I. p. 43.
22 INTRODUCTION.
correct views of the nature, faculties, and laws of the
mind — that physical science commenced that splendid
career of improvement which has equally astonished and
delighted mankind. In looking " to those rules of physical
investigation, which he has given us, we are too apt" says
Dr. Brown, " to think of the erroneous physical opinions
which preceded them, without paying sufficient attention
to the false theories of intellect which had led to those
very physical absurdities." — " We must not forget that the
temple which he purified, was not the temple of external
nature, but the temple of the mind, — that in its inmost
sanctuaries, were all the idols which he overthrew, — and
that it was not till these were removed, and the intellect
prepared for the presence of a nobler divinity, that Truth
would deign to unveil herself to adoration : — as in the
mysteries of those eastern religions, in which the first ce-
remony for admission to the worship of the God, is the
purification of the worshipper,"*
2. Consider the important aid which an intimate ac-
quaintance with the nature and powers of the mind, may
be made to afford to those arts in which mind is the subject
of direct operation. Such are the arts of Education,
Poetry, Eloquence, Criticism, &c. &c. The object at
which they aim, is to originate certain habits, or trains of
thought, and to awaken various feelings of pleasure, tran-
sport, enthusiasm, anger, fear, sympathy, &c. ; to kindle
them into momentary, or permanent existence, as the cir-
cumstances of the case may require. Now if it be the
fact, that our thoughts and feelings are united in the rela-
tion of cause and effect, and, consequently, follow one
another in a certain train, how can it be doubted that the
teacher, the poet, the orator, &c., must be acquainted with
the order of their succession, before he can cherish any
rational hope of effecting the object he has in view?
Ignorant of this, he might strengthen propensities and
habits (as is too frequently done by empyrics, in education)
which he desired to subdue ; and rouse, into fearful and
* Vol. I. pp. 28, 29.
INTRODUCTION. ^3
resistless energy, passions which, as he imagined, he was
taking the most prudent measures to allay.
Should it be said, that the order of the successions of
human thought and feeling is as perfectly known to the
peasant as to the most profound philosopher, so that the
study of Mental Philosophy is unnecessary, it may be re-
plied, firsts that the assertion is not true ; the more obvi-
ous, and ordinary, and every-day successions, being all that
are known to .the great body of mankind ;* and, secondly,
that if it were true, it would not detract from the value of
intellectual philosophy, but prove merely that the very
men who urge the objection, possess more of this philoso-
phy, and are more deeply indebted to it, than they have
the good sense and gratitude to acknowledge.
3. Consider the important bearing of the Philosophy of
Mind upon moral science and theological investigations.
It is the assertion of a very judicious writer, that " a man
might as reasonably entitle himself a learned physician,
though he had never studied anatomy, as esteem himself
an adept in moral science, without having obtained an
intimate acquaintance with the affections, passions, and
sentiments of the human heart." Mental Philosophy is
the anatomy of human nature : is it possible, then, to ex-
hibit the rationale of Morals, if we are ignorant of this
species of anatomy? The rectitude of moral precepts
depends upon the powers and susceptibilities of those to
whom they are addressed. There must be a harmony and
correspondence between what is required from moral
agents, and what is given to them ; and without an inti-
mate acquaintance with the latter, this correspondence
must be, in a considerable degree at least, veiled from our
view.
One branch of mental philosophy relates to those states
of mind which constitute, when they exist in certain cir-
cumstances, our moral affections ; such as — Hatred, Love,
Gratitude, Anger, Desire, &,c. . To possess an intimate
acquaintance with the nature, causes, and results of these
* Vidt Stewart, Vol. I, pp. 282, 283.
:24 INTRODUCTION.
emotions, must be of incalculable importance to the Chris-
tian moralist. They are the springs of human conduct.
To be able to touch them requires obviously a know-
ledge of the manner in which they arise ; and one of the
main causes to which is to be ascribed the power which
one mind frequently exercises over others, bending and
directing them at its will, is the superior acquaintance of
its possessor with the order of succession of human thought
and feeling, and his consequent higher capability of ori-
ginating that train, which will ultimately lead to the
accomplishment of his own purposes. " It is principally
on this account," says an excellent writer, " that almost
all the best practical writers on religion have been mental
philosophers. They are not satisfied to show what is the
meaning, or what the extent, of any precept ; but they
endeavour to trace the avenues by which it may be con-
ducted to the recesses of the heart, and to detect the
principles of our own nature to which it has the nearest
alliance, or from which the most obstinate hostility may be
expected. And, on the other hand, it is, in part at least,
from ignorance of the mental constitution, that many per-
sons deceive themselves in many things of great practical
importance ; are insensible to the growth of the most daiv
gerous associations ; mistake the real sources of their
errors in conduct ; confound the more amiable natural
dispositions with the evidences and fruits of sanctifica-
tion ; or remain insensible to dormant principles of sin,
which they might have discovered and mortified, till a
powerful temptation draws them forth to a terrible and
fatal activity."
And who can doubt 'the important aid which an accu-
rate acquaitance with the nature and faculties of the
mind will afford to the theological student ? The refer-
ence here is not so much to the precision of thought and
statement which the study of intellectual science cannot
fail to produce, though its value even in this point of view
can scarcely be too highly appreciated ; but to many inte-
resting and important questions in theology, in reference
to which it is not too much to affirm, that no man who
INTRODUCTIOxV. '25
has not paid considerable attefition to intellectual science,
can form an enlightened judgment. The subjects of Free
Agency, Predestination, &c. will immediately occur to
the mind of the reader. Their intimate connexion with
mental science must be obvious to all ; a necessary regard
to brevity forbids any thing more than this bare reference
to them.
4. Reflect upon the powerful tendency of intellectual
philosophy to discipline and strengthen the mind. The
design of education is not so much to impart information,
as to give tone and vigour to the mental powers — to form
the understanding to habits of thought at once " bold
and cautious, patient and discursive," comprehensive and
profound. To effect this purpose, "those sciences in
which the evidence is only probable, possess manifest
advantages over those in which it is demonstrative." The
evidence which the mathematician requires, and without
which he will not, in his department of science, admit
the truth of any proposition, cannot be obtained as the / 1 I i
guide of our conduct, even in cases of great moment, and »
requiring prompt decision. It is on moral evidence that
we must act in all the relations we sustain both to God
and to each other. Now, if the constant habit of requiring
and obtaining demonstrative evidence should not produce
a sceptical bias in the mind of the mathematician, which
Mr. Stewart denies, it must, we should think, infallibly
render him less competent to judge in cases when the only
evidence to direct him is that with which he is less con-
versant and familiar — it must, in a measure, unfit him to
decide on probable evidence, and where probability, as is
sometimes the case, opposes probability. The studies to
which the attention of the reader is directed, in this work,
are the best guides here. They tend more eminently than
any others " to form reflective habits of mind ; for reflec-
tion is necessary for observing the phaenomena on which
we are to reason ; it is requisite for comparing, combining,
and separating them ; it is requisite ultimately for ascer-
taining the laws to which they are subjected."
4
20 THE OBJECT OF
5. To all this it may be added, that while other sciences
require a considerable apparatus of books, &c. and oppor-
tunities of general information, the mental philosopher
carries the materials of his art constantly about with him.
They are perpetually present, and ready for use ; ''^ pemoc-
tant nobiscum, peregrinantur^ rusticantur ; — and the most
vulgar incidents in life, which only distract the thoughts of
other speculators, furnish to him not unfrequently occa-
sions for examining anew the principles he has established,
and supply hints for their enlargement, illustration, or
correction."
CHAPTER II.
THE OBJECT OF INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE ; AND THE MODE IN
WHICH OUR INQUIRIES SHOULD BE CONDUCTED.
We give the name of Mind to that mysterious principle
within us, which constitutes " the permanent subject" of
various phsenomena, or properties, differing essentially
from those which matter exhibits. Matter is that which
is extended, divisible, impenetrable, &c. ; Mind is that
which perceives, remembers, compares, judges, &c. Now
the reader is especially requested to observe, that the
object of the present inquiry is to ascertain what are the
phaenoraena, or properties, or qualities of mind, and not
what is the essence of mind. Indeed, of the essence
both of matter and of mind, we are profoundly ignorant.
We know that matter is extended, &c. &c. ; — that mind
perceives, &c. &c. — L e, we know the properties of each.
We know, at least, some of the various ways in which
matter affects us — some of the various states in which
mind may exist. But this is not to know the essence of
either ; it is to know them both, not absolutely, but rela-
tively only.
INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE
•27
There is no difference of opinion among our best phi-
losophers on this point. " The essence both of body,
and of mind," says Dr. Reid, " is unknown to us. We
know certain properties of the first, and certain operations
of the last, and by those only we can define or describe
them."* " If 1 am asked," adds Mr. Stewart, " what I
mean by Matter ? I can only explain myself by saying, it
is that which is extended, figured, coloured, &c. &c.; i. e,
I can define it in no other way than by enumerating its
sensible qualities. It is not matter, or body, which I per-
ceive by my senses; but only extension, figure, colour,
and certain other qualities, which the constitution of my
nature leads me to refer to something which is extended,
figured and coloured. The case is precisely similar with
respect to Mind. We are not immediately conscious of
its existence, but we are conscious of sensation, thought,
and volition; operations which imply the existence of
something which feels, thinks, and wills."! " In this re-
spect," states Dr. Brown, " the philosophy of matter and
of mind completely agree — that in both equally our
knowledge is confined to the phaenomena which they
exhibit." — " What matter is independent of our percep-
tion we know not." — " If our knowledge of matter be
relative only, our knowledge of mind is equally so. We
know it only as susceptible of feelings that have already
existed, &c."| " That we know nothing more of the
mind," says the Rev. Mr. Welsh, " than that, from the
time of our birth till the present moment, it has existed in
certain states of thought and feeling, is a position so very
obvious, that I can scarcely conceive it to be disputed."§
Our inquiries are then to be limited to the phaenomena,
or properties of mind. To prevent the possibility of mis-
take, on the part of those who have not made mental
science the subject of their inquiries, it may be well to
state distinctly —
First, that it is by no means intended to intimate a
doubt with reference to the existence of mind. The
* Reid's Essays, Vol. I. p. 26. t Elements, Vol. I. p. 3. 8vo.
t Vol. I. p. 193—195, & 206. 5 Memoirs of Brown, p. 214.
^8 THE OBJECT OF
sceptical philosopher maintains, that our successive thoughts
and feelings constitute mind itself; and that the qualities
of hardness, colour, form, weight, divisibility, &c. consti-
tute matter. With the single exception of seriously at-
tempting to refute a dogma so extravagant as this, it is
scarcely possible to conceive of a greater absurdity. The
preceding statements, while they abandon all intention
of inquiring into the essence of mind, take for granted its
existence, by exhibiting it as the permanent subject of
certain varying phaenomena of which we are conscious.
Nor, secondly, is it intended to intimate that there may
be no essential difference between the essence of matter
and of mind ; for all the speculations of intellectual
science take it for granted that such a difference exists,
and, on the supposition of there being none, would be
perfectly absurd. We inquire, at one time, into the
qualities of the substance matter ; we inquire, at another
time, into the qualities of the substance mind^ (the term
substance, in reference to the mind, is used to avoid cir-
cumlocution) as contrary distinguished from those of
matter : but if the essence of matter and mind be not
essentially different, the subject of our inquiries is, in both
cases, the same. Though it must, accordingly, be con-
fessed to be unphilosophical to speculate concerning the
positive essence of the mind, it is not unphilosophical to
attempt to show that that essence is not material. The
importance, not to say necessity, of doing this, is greater,
we conceive, than Mr. Stewart, or even Dr. Brown, seems
disposed to allow. The former indeed says, that " the
conclusions to which we are led, by a careful examination
of the phaenomena which mind exhibits, have no neces-
sary connexion with our opinions concerning its nature."*
This statement is surely not correct. Are we not in the
constant habit of contending that the complexity, which
we cannot but ascribe to the mental phaenomena, cannot
be similar to that which is produced by the union of two
or more substances, so as to form one physical whole,
* Vol. I. p. 7.
INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. ^
because the mind is a simple indivisible essence ? Do we
not assume the indivisibility of the mind, in many of our
speculations ? And have we any right to do this, without
previously proving the immateriality of mind, L e. that its
essence, though unknown, is different from that of matter? ^.^.^ ^
Into an extended argument on this subject my limits
will not permit me to go : it must be sufficient to glance
at the proof which may be adduced. Two distinct classes
of phaenomena, viz. extension, divisibility, gravity, form,
colour, attraction, repulsion, &c. ; and perception, memory,
reasoning, joy, grief, &c., become known to us, in radically
different ways ; the one, through the medium of the ex-
ternal senses — the other, by consciousness. Are these
phaenomena the qualities of the same substance? Is it "
reasonable to suppose that properties so opposite to each
other, the knowledge of which is obtained in so different //• .
a manner, inhere in the same permanent subject ? If the
qualities are thus essentially different, must not the essence *
be essentially different ? The argument is, however, yet
but partially developed. Some of these qualities are in-
compatible with each other, so that like length and short- ^^'^^
ness, when the comparison is with the same objects, theyto ^^Vj
cannot possibly be the qualities of the same substance, p f^
Sensation and thought belong to one of the classes of ^ f
properties which have been specified ; divisibility is in- ?, — ^^
eluded in the other. If sensation and thought were pro- C*^ ^'^
perties of matter, they must be divisible, because matter * ^^^
is divisible ; every separate particle of the thinking and
feeling whole, must possess a separate portion of sensa-
tion and thought ; as every separate particle possesses the
power of attraction. But sensation and thought are not .Owciu>i*.
divisible, consciousness being judge ; the permanent sub- '-'A^ '♦^^ ^
ject, therefore, of these qualities, whatever be its positive * ^<-^j^Ji (^
nature, is certainly not material. ^'*^ '■^^ *^^
The Mind then is to be regarded as a substance endowed ^s^^^^^"^ ^
with certain properties, susceptible of various affections or J^ ^^i
modifications, which, existing successively as momentary ^*^
states of the mind, constitute all the phaenomena of thought
and feeling : our object is to ascertain what these proper-
30
THE OBJECT OF
ties, powers, and susceptibilities of the mind are. How-
then is this to be done ? The answer shall be given in the
following admirable statement by Dr. Brown: — "We
must inquire into the properties of the substance Mind, in
the same way as we ascertain the properties of the sub-
stance Matter. As we say of gold, that it is that which is
of a certain specific weight, yellow, ductile, fusible at a
certain temperature, and capable of certain combinations,
because all these properties have been observed by our-
selves or others ; so we say of the Mind, that it is that which
perceives, remembers, compares, and is susceptible of va-
rious emotions, or other feelings ; because of all those we
have been conscious, or have observed them indirectly in
others. We are not entitled to state with confidence any
quality as a property of gold, which we do not remember
to have observed ourselves, or to have received on the faith
^ ^ of the observation of others, whose authority we have rea-
son to consider as indubitable ; and as little are we enti-
tled to assert any quality, or general susceptibility, as be-
longing to the human mind, of which we have not been
^- conscious ourselves in the feelings resulting from it, or for
rfr which we have not the authority of the indubitable con-
sciousness of others."* And again : " Let it then never be
forgotten, that the powers and operations of the mind can
only be ascertained by a careful observation of the mind
itself; and that we might as well attempt to discover by
logic, unaided by observation and experiment, the various
coloured rays that enter into the composition of a sun-
beam, as to discover, by dialectic subtilties, a priori^
the various feelings that enter into a single thought or
passion."?
The preceding statements exhibit the Baconian method
of investigation, in its application to Mind. It is truly
wonderful as well as melancholy, that so many centuries
should have rolled away before it was distinctly perceived,
that the properties and laws of Mind can be ascertained by
observation and induction alone. In the employment of
* Vol. I. p. 85. t P. 7.
INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 31
this method, it is however necesary to remember, that it
affords us no light with reference to the rectitude of our
particular affections and conduct. We discover by it, how
we are capable, by the constitution of the mind, of feeling
and acting ; but not whether thus feeling and thus acting
in any particular case, we should feel and act rightly. In
one respect, indeed, the knowledge of what is, is identical
with the knowledge of what ought to be in man. The
physical constitution of the mind is what it should be, be-
cause it is what God made it. When therefore, we have
ascertained, by the inductive process, what are the natural
susceptibilities of the human mind, its various capabilities
of feeling, we know what man should be in this point of
view. But susceptibilities, or capabilities of feeling, &c.
are to be distinguished from actual feelings. A being who
is susceptible of the angry emotions, unless he be a perfect
moral agent, may be improperly angry. "When, there-
fore," says Dr. Brown, " we know that man has certain
affections and passions, there still remains the great inqui-
ry, as to the propriety or impropriety of those passions, and
of the conduct to which they lead. We have to consider,
not merely how he is capable of acting, but also whether,
acting in the manner supposed, he would be fulfilling a
duty or perpetrating a crime."*
Our inquiry, then, regards the phajnomena of Mind only ;
and we are to depend, not upon hypothesis, but observa-
tion, for all the knowledge that is to be obtained upon
the subject. With reference then to the phaenomena of
Mind, "What are the particular points to be examin-
ed ?" This is an inquiry of great practical importance.
Had more attention been paid to it by preceding philoso-
phers, the science of mind would have made more rapid
progress. Dr. Brown brings it prominently into view ; and
it is to be ascribed, partly at least, to the circumstance of
his having kept this definite and proper object of inquiry so
steadily before him, that his investigations have been
attended with such splendid success. The phaenomena of
* Vol. I. p. 9. Introduction.
32 THE OBJECT OF
mind consist of certain thoughts and feehngs, or, to use a
single word, comprehending both, of certain states. Now
the only questions which can be instituted here are the
two following : — " What is the order in which they arise ?"
and, " What are the elements of which they consist?"
Leaving out of our consideration, for the present, the moral
character of our various states of mind, (an inquiry which
will be entered upon at the proper time and place.) it is
imagined that the questions just mentioned comprise every
topic of investigation in relation to Mind.
Dr. Brown illustrates this two-fold object of intellectual
science by its analogy to the objects of natural science.
All physical inquiry is directed to ascertain either the com-
position of bodies, or their powers and susceptibilities ; in
other words the elementary hoAies which are to be found in
any aggregate before us ; or the manner in which these
aggregates affect other substances, and are affected by
them in return, i. e. the changes which they produce or
suffer* All the phsenomena of the material world consist
of changes. Take, for example, the phgenomenon of the
solution of glass in the fluoric acid. What is this but a
change in the state of the glass — a change from solidity to
fluidity? These changes can only be ascertained by ob-
servation ; and the changes which one body produces upon
all others, indicate its powers — the changes which it suf-
fers from the action of others, its susceptibilities.
The ingenious and excellent biographer of Dr. Brown,
has made some very just remarks upon his statement in re-
ference to the composition of bodies. They evidently pro-
ceed, he thinks, upon the admission of the corpuscular
hypothesis of Boscovich; which, however ingenious and
beautiful, is, as yet, only an hypothesis. He says, in sub-
stance at least, that it is impossible for us to discover the
constituent elements of bodies, if such elements exist; and
that, even if we could, our knowledge of them would be
only relative ; we could learn nothing more concerning
them, than the changes they would produce or suffer ; so
that the two inquiries of Dr. Brown " may, in chemical
science; be resolved into one : our sole object being, not to
INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 33
cuscertain the original atoms that compose any body, but
the changes which the body will undergo, or occasion, in
new circumstances."*
Taking the term element, however, not in the technical
sense of Boscovich, but in the manner in which it is ordi-
narily used by chemists, viz. to denote those substances
which appear to be simple, or uncompounded, (and it is
not certain to nie that Dr. Brown did not intend it to be
understood in this sense,) it is manifestly tlie object of
physical science to ascertain the elements, as well as the
powers and susceptibilities of bodies. But how then can
the objects of Physical, illustrate those of Intellectual,
Science ? Do our thoughts and feelings, or states of
mind, stand in need of analysis, like manifestly compound
physical substances ? or do they even admit of any such
analysis ? Do they stand in the relation of cause and
effect to each other, — one thought introducing another
thought, and one feeling another feeling, as certain effects
always result from certain causes in the world of nature?
If this be the case, it is manife^st that the preceding re-
marks concerning the object of physical science, may be
transferred to our inquiries relative to Mind. Of this,
then, there can be no doubt. s.
The phcenomena of mind, like the phcenomena of mat-
ter, follow each other in a regular order of succession,
and are, consequently, capable of arrangement as causes
and effects. One great object of intellectual science is,
then, to ascertain the laws of succession, without which
such an arrangement cannot be effected. We need not
say any thing in support of the alleged fact, that a certain
order is preserved in the succession of human thought
and feeling ; no one will deny it. It is, however, necessary
for the reader particularly to observe, that all our know-
ledge of the laws of succession is derived from experience.
This, if he has not been accustomed to speculations of
this kind, he may find it a little difficult to conceive.
There are some thoughts and feelings which seem so na-
* Welsh's Memoirs, p. 206.
34 THE OBJECT OF
turally, and even necessarily, to result from other thoughts
and feelings, that we are apt to imagine we should have
been able to predict their sequence, independently of expe-
rience. Their apparent inseparable union is, however, the
mere consequence of our having invariably found them
together. The mind was doubtless so formed by its
Maker, as that the present order of succession of thought
and feeling should take place ; and, perhaps, we are war-
ranted in saying, that while the present constitution of the
mind remains, a different order of succession is impossible.
But that constitution was an arbitrary one. The mind
might have been formed with other and different suscepti-
bilities ; and its states might have followed each other in a
radically different order. Nothing, then, can manifestly
be known of mind — of its phaenomena — of their relation
to each other, as cause and effect, but as the result of
actual observation. To suppose the contrary, is as absurd
as that we might have predicted the properties of gold
without examination ; or that we might have described
the nature of a machine, which depended entirely upon
the arbitrary will of its inventor for its form, size, &c. with-
out an actual inspection of it. " There is nothing," says
Dr. Brown, " in any one state of mind, considered in
itself, which necessarily involves the succession of any
other state of mind. That particular state, for example,
which constitutes the mere feeling of pain, instead of
being attended by that different state which constitutes
the desire of being freed from pain, might have continued
as one uniform feeling, or might have ceased, and been
succeeded by some other state, though, in the original
adaptation of our mental powers, by that Creator's wis-
dom which planned the sequences of its phaenomena, the
particular affection that constitutes desire had not been
one of the innumerable varieties of affection of which the
mind was for ever to be susceptible." — " We are always
too much inclined to believe that we know what must
have been, because we know what is." — " In the rarer
successions of feeling, we allow that there are phaeno-
mena of th^ mind, which we could not have foreknown ;
INTEX.LECTUAL SCIENCE. -^O
but we find it difficult to imagine, in the recurrence of
the common mental phaenomena, that, even originally, it
could have required any peculiar foresight to predict what
we are now conscious of predicting with a readiness, that
seems to us almost like the instant glance of intuition."*
If a doubt, with reference to the preceding statements,
should remain on the minds of any, I would refer them to
the case of brutes. That brutes possess mind, i. e. some-
thing which is not matter, all but avowed materialists
must allow. Yet the succession of states of feeling in
the minds of brutes, is not the same with that which is
observed in men — a decided proof that the properties
of the substance Mind, and, a fortiori, the successions
of its phaenomena, being to us arbitrary, can only be ascer-
tained by actual observation.
This is not the case in the department of Mind alone.
The statement holds good with reference to the succes-
sions of all phaenomena, whether they be material or men-
tal. Whether it be true or not that " better eyes" would
enable us to discover the composition of bodies, it is unde-
niable that no increased power or delicacy of sensual
organization could apprize us of their powers and sus-
ceptibilities. The changes which result from them, and
in which, as we have seen, all the phaenomena of the
natural world consist, can manifestly be known only by ex-
perience. Independently of experience, who could have
predicted that spring would invariably precede summer,
and summer as invariably follow spring — that the ascent
of the sun above the horizon would be succeeded by day,
and his descent by night ? " Who, by considering sepa-
rately the mere sensible qualities of bodies, could ascertain
the changes which, in new circumstances of union, they
might reciprocally suffer or produce? Who could infer, from
the similar appearance of a lump of sugar and a lump of cal-
careous spar, that the one would be soluble in water, and
the other remain unmelted; or, from the different aspect of
gunpowder and snow, that a spark would be extinguished,
* P. 212—215.
36 THE OBJECT OF
if it fell upon the one, and, if it fell upon the other, would
excite an explosion that would be almost irresistible?: But
for experience, we should be altogether incapable of pre-
dicting any such effects from either of the objects com-
psired ; or if we did know that the peculiar susceptibility
belonged to one of the two, and not to the other, we might
as readily suppose that calcareous spar would melt in
water as sugar, and as readily, that snow as that gunpow-
der would detonate by the contact of a spark. It is expe-
rience alone which teaches us that these eifects ever take
place, and that they take place not in all substances, but
only in some particular substances. ""^
There have, indeed, been philosophers who held the
opinion, that " if we were acquainted with the intimate
structure of bodies, we should then see, not merely what
corpuscular changes take place in them, but why these
changes take place, and should thus be able to predict,
before experience, the effects which they would recipro-
cally produce." Mr. Locke, for instance, imagined, that
if we knew the mechanical affections of a particle of
rhubarb, hemlock, opium, and a man, we should be able
to tell beforehand, that rhubarb will purge, hemlock kill,
and opium make a man sleep. This opinion of Mr. Locke
is obviously grounded upon the assumption, that all the
changes which take place in the material universe, as well
as in the cases he refers to, are the effects of contact and
impulse, and of a kind, therefore, which may be termed,
strictly, mechanical. On this sentiment, we observe, in
the first place, that it is not supported by evidence ; and,
secondly, that if it were as well as it is ill-founded, it would
leave the difficulty where it found it; since the conse-
quences which result from mechanical influence, from
even contact itself, are known only by experience or testi-
mony. We must see, in order to ascertain the reciprocal
influence of bodies, i. e. their susceptibilities and powers,
" That a ball in motion, when it meets another at rest,
should force this to quit its place, appears now to be some-
* Vol. I. p. 114.
INTELLECTUAL SCHENGE. lit
thing which it required no skill or experience to predict ;
and yet, though our faculties were, in every respect, as
vigorous as now ; if we could imagine this most common
of all phaenomena, to be wholly unknown to us ; what
reason should we be able to discover in the circumstances
that immediately precede the shock, for inferring the effect
that truly results, rather than any other effect whatever ?
Were the laws of motion previously unknown, it would be
in itself as presumable, that the moving ball should simply
stop when it reached the other, or that it should merely
rebound from it, as that the quiescent ball should be forced
by it to quit its state of rest, and move forward in the same
direction. We know, indeed, that the effect is different,
but it is because we have witnessed it that we know it ;
not because the laws of motion, or any of the mechanical
affections of matter whatever, are qualities that might be
inferred independently of observation."*
Mr. Locke's statements, however, suppose that we do
not know the mechanical affections of matter. Whatever,
then, might have been the case with us, had we possessed
this knowledge, it is manifest, since we are destitute of it,
that our acquaintance with the sequences of phajnomena
in the material world, i, e, with the powers and susceptibi-
lities of bodies, must be derived from experience alone.
But here a difficulty suggests itself. Experience teaches
us the past only, not the future. But to affirm of any body
that it possesses certain powers and susceptibilities, is to
state the changes which it will occasion and undergo to
the end of time. If, then, there is nothing in the structure
of bodies to enable us to predict these changes, from what
source does our confidence that they will happen arise ?
The only satisfactory reply, we apprehend, is, that it
springs from an original principle of our nature. The
great Former of the mind has so constituted it, that, on
the sight of a certain operation of one body upon another,
or of a certain change, effected by the former, in the state
or appearance of the latter, we are irresistibly led to
* Brown, pp. 120, 12t.
38 THE OBJECT OF \
believe that, in similar circumstances, the same change
will take place in all time to come. There is nothing
wonderful in this ; at any rate it is not more wonderful
than that any thought, or feeling, or state of mind, should
exist in any circumstances whatever. Here, as Dr. Brown
justly observes, "nothing is wonderful, or all is wonderful."
The Creator of the universe ordained a certain order of
sequence in the phaenomena of the natural world ; and by
giving to us an original or instinctive belief in the regu-
larity of this sequence, he has enabled us to foresee, and
provide for, the physical events that are to arise, without
which foresight the creatures for whom he has so bounti-
fully provided, must have been left to perish, " ignorant
and irresolute, amid elements that seemed waiting to obey
them, and victims of confusion in the very midst of all the
harmonies of the universe."
To know the order in which the phoenomena of the ma-
terial universe present themselves to our view, is to know
them in the relation of cause and effect. If, then, there is
nothing in the structure of bodies which can enable us to
predict this relation, — if our knowledge of it is the result of
experience alone, it follows that all we know in reference
to a cause is, that it is the immediate and invariable ante-
cedent of a certain change, to which we give the name of
an effect. It is not said that there is nothing more in a
cause than immediate and invariable antecedence; for if
there were not aptitude in a cause to precede, and in an
effect to follow, i, e. if there were not something in the very
constitution of the cause, to adapt it to stand in the relation
of precedence, it would follow, in that case, that the cause
and effect are only united like two nouns by a conjunction,
and so might exchange places ; and, further, that there is
nothing to tie them together but the direct energy of the
great first cause ; so that, in fact, God is the only agent in
the universe — a sentiment which, by annihilating all the
indications of skill, and contrivance, of adaptation of
means to ends, with which the universe abounds, would
overturn the foundation of morals as well as religion — the
doctrine of the divine existence itself.
INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 39
Oil this subject I am constrained to dissent from the
doctrine of Dr. Brown. Admitting, as he does, that there
is aptitude in a cause to precede, he yet denies that a cause
is any thing more than an immediate and invariable ante-
cedent; statements which appear to me irreconcilably
opposed to each other. Had Dr. Brown contented himself
with affirming that no third substance intervenes between
the cause and the effect, by which their junction is effected;
had he even merely denied that we can form any concep-
tion of the nature of this aptitude, 1 could have gone along
with him. But to maintain that there is nothing in a cause
but immediate and invariable antecedence, is, in my judg-
ment, only a different mode of affirming that there is no
aptitude in a cause to precede ; since aptitude to prece de
differs as much from actual precedence, as aptitude to
produce sensation differs from the production of sensation,
or from the sensation produced. It strikes me that this
admirable writer has not sufficiently distinguished between
the cause itself, and our notion of that cause. There may
be nothing more in our conception of a cause, than that it
immediately and invariably precedes a certain effect ; but
there may be something more in the cause itself. Our
conception of the fragrance of a rose is, that it produces a
certain sensation ; but the fragrance itself is something
different from this. In like manner, our conception of a
cause is that of immediate and invariable antecedence ; of
its adaptation to be an antecedent, we know nothing, we
can form no distinct conception ; yet it necessarily differs
from the antecedence itself, u e, a cause is something more
than an immediate and invariable antecedent.
The same general principles apply to the philosophy of
Mind, as well as to the philosophy of Matter. The phai-
nomena of mind present themselves successively. The order
of their sequence is ascertained by experience, and experi-
ence alone ; there being nothing in one state of mind from
which it would have been possible for us to predict the oc-
currence of any other, by which the Creator determined
that it should be followed. Those thoughts and feelings
which immediately precede, we denominate causes ; those
40 THE OBJECT OP
which immediately succeed, we call effects. God has so
formed the human mind that there is an aptitude in certain
feelings, or states of mind, to precede and follow one
another ; but of that aptitude we can form, as we have
said, no conception. All we know of the human mind»
in this point of view, is confined to the bare fact, that
there are certain laws, by which, or according to which,
the order in the sequences of its phsenomena are regu-
lated ; and it is one great object of intellectual science to
ascertain what these laws are.
But the phcBnomena of mind may he further regarded
as complex^ and susceptible of analysis. The term
analysis is of Greek origin, and signifies to untie or un-
loose. Its possible application to the different substances
in nature, takes it for granted that they are not simple,
but compound substances. It would seem, therefore, to
follow as a necessary consequence, that no simple, uncom-
pounded substance, can be analyzed ; that unless a body
consists of parts, like a mechanical compound, where the
parts are in juxta position, or in a state of aggregation, —
or a chemical compound, where they are in a state of in-
timate incorporation, it must be manifestly impossible to
resolve it into parts.
A difficulty occurs here then in the science of Mind ;
for as the mind is a simple indivisible essence, and as all
its thoughts and feelings, however complex they may ap-
pear, must be, in reality, as simple and indivisible as the
mind itself, it would appear as if there could be no
analysis of any of the mental phaenomena. With respect
to matter, the case is essentially' different. Here, with
seeming simplicity there is real complexity. A piece of
glass, which appears really simple, is, in truth, not so. It
is composed of a vast number of particles of alkaline and
silicious matter bound together, which the art of the
chemist can untie, and exhibit in a state of disunion. In
this case, the simplicity and oneness is not in the body,
but in our conceptions. Analysis is, accordingly, prac-.
ticable here. But the most complex thought, or feel-
ing, whatever number of others have had influence in
INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 41
modifying it, is still only one feeling ; " for we cannot
divide the states or affections of our minds into separate
self-existing fractions, as we can divide a compound mass
of matter into masses which are separate and self-existing,
nor distinguish half a joy or sorrow from a whole joy or
sorrow." And- yet we cannot but regard some of our
ideas and feelings as complex. In what sense then can
complexity be ascribed to any of the mental phasnomena ?
How can they be analyzed ? What is the meaning of the
term analysis in its application to them ? To these ques-
tions, I am not aware of any statements which deserve a
moment's regard, but those which are furnished us by Dr.
Brown, (and his ingenious biographer, the Rev. Mr. Welsh.
I shall endeavour to give the reader the substance of the
remarks which are made by both these writers, accompany-
ing them, as yve proceed, with any observations which
may occur to my own mind.)
Dr. Brown tells us that our original simple states of
mind become so altered and modified, through the influ-
ence of the associating principle, combining others with
them, that they may never afterward be found in their
original state, — that these modified states of mind, which
result from the association of many thoughts and feelings,
though they are, and in the very nature of the case must
be, as simple as the mind itself, necessarily appear to us
as if they were actually composed of the sentiments and
feelings from which they have resulted, or by which they
have been modified. A complex state of mind, is, then,
one which is the result of certain previous feelings, " to
which, as if existing together, it is felt to have the virtual
relation of equality, or the relation which a whole bears
to the parts that are comprehended in it. But the con-
ception of a golden mountain is still as much one state
or feeling of one simple mind, as either of the separate
conceptions of gold, and of a mountain which preceded
it." The process of analysis, then, in reference to mind,
is the act of distinguishing the separate sensations, or
thoughts, or emotions, which appear to be comprehended
in these complex feelings, or from which they have ro»
6
42 THE OBJECT OP
suited. It is hot the resolution of a substance actually
compound into the elements of which it consists, but of
.one which appears to be compound, into what appear to
be its elements. It is a mental or virtual untying of a
certain feeling of mind, " which being considered by us
as equivalent to the separate ideas from which it results,
or as comprehensive of them, is truly to our conception —
though to our conception only — and therefore only
virtually or relatively to us the inquirers, the same as if
it were composed of the separate feelings co-existing, as
the elements of a body co-exist in space."
The Rev. Mr. Welsh thinks, on the contrary, that com-
plexness, with reference to the mental phaenomena, is
actual, or real ; and, consequently, that the analyses of
the intellectual chemist are more than virtual. It is, how-
ever, not a complexness of substances as in the material
world, but of relations only ; and so analogous to the vast
diversity of aspects, and complexity of states under w^hich
bodies, perfectly simple in themselves, exhibit themselves
according to their relation to other objects. Analysis,
then, in reference to mind, does not resemble the decom-
pounding processes of chemistry, because such a separa-
tion of parts is felt to be impossible ; but it bears, he adds,
" a very striking analogy to that species of philosophy
which is occupied with the general qualities of matter,
and which, if it observes particular substances at all,
observes them only with the design of resolving the phse-
nomena they exhibit into their simplest and most general
laws. Thus, we may resolve the particular properties of
gold into the general qualities of matter, and show that
its weight, its colour, its form, its cohesion, its motion, are
but particular instances of the great laws of repulsion and
attraction. In a manner analogous to this, we resolve the
diversified phoenomena of mind into a few simple and
primitive laws, by which term we denote the most general
circumstances in which the phaenomena are felt by us to
P. 210.
INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 43
In a subsequent part of his book, where the views of
this excellent writer are more fully developed, he supposes
us to experience the sensation excited by the fragrance of
a rose. In this case, the mind exists in one simple rela-
tion, to one quality of an external object. The substance
mind is simple ; its relation is also simple. But the sen-
sation of fragrance may co-exist with the remembrance
of the fragrance, or with other feelings. Here we have
the mind existing in one simple state, in so far as it relates
to its essential nature ; — the consciousness, which is the
result of the simultaneous influence of different objects
upon the organs of sense, is also simple ; it is one state of
one indivisible subject, but it is one state formed of a
variety of relations.*
1 have endeavoured to collect the substance of this
writer's statements, though I have not been able to pre-
sent them always in his own well-selected words. I have
been the more anxious to do justice to the sentiments of
my reverend friend, if he will allow me thus to designate
him, because I cannot exactly agree with him, or rather,
perhaps, because I do not fully comprehend him. At first
view, I acknowledge, his explanation of the complexness,
which we cannot but ascribe to many of our mental states,
appears to be recommended by greater simplicity than
that of Dr. Brown ; but I find myself unable to attach
any very definite meaning to the term relation, as used by
him, in this connexion. On the whole, I prefer the ex-
planation of Dr. Brown, the substance of which is so
admirably given in the following passage, that the reader
will readily pardon me for quoting it.
" It is this feeling of the relation of certain states of
mind, to certain other states of mind, which solves the
whole mystery of mental analysis, that seemed at first so
inexplicable ; the virtual decomposition, in our thought,
of what is by its very nature indivisible. The mind, in-
deed, it must be allowed, is absolutely simple in all its
states ; every separate state or aflfection of it must there-
* Pp. 234, 5.
44 THE OBJECT ©F
fore be absolutely simple ; but in certain cases, in which
a feeling is the result of other feelings preceding it, it is
its very nature to appear to involve the union of those
preceding feelings ; and to distinguish the separate sensa-
tions, or thoughts, or emotions, of which, on reflection, it
thus seems to be comprehensive, is to perform an intellec-
tual process, Avhich, though not a real analysis, is an ana-
lysis at least relatively to our conception."''^ And again,
"What the chemist does in matter, the intellectual
analysist does in mind ; the one distinguishing by a purely
mental process of reflection the elements of his complex
feelings, as the other operates on his material compounds,
by processes that are themselves material. Though the
term analysis may be used in reference to both processes,
the mental as well as the material, since the result of the
process is virtually the same in both, it has been univer-
sally employed by philosophers in the laws of the mind
without any accurate definition of the process ; and I was
careful, therefore, to explain to you the peculiar meaning
in which it is strictly to be understood in our science ;
that you might not extend to the mind and its affections,
that essential divisibility which is inconsistent with its
very nature ; and suppose that, when we speak of com-
plex notions, and of thoughts and feelings that are united
by association with other thoughts and feelings, we speak
of a plurality of separable things. The complex mental
phsenomena, as I explained to you, are complex only in
relation to our mode of conceiving them. They are,
strictly and truly, as simple and indivisible states of a
substance, which is necessarily, in -all its states, simple and
indivisible, — the results, rather than the compounds of
former feelings, — to which, however, they seem to us, and
from the very nature of the feelings themselves, cannot
but seem to us, to bear the same species of relation, which
a whole bears to the parts that compose it. The office
of intellectual analysis, accordingly, in the mode in which
I have explained it to you, has regard to this relation only.
INTELLECTUAL SCIE.NCE. 45
It is to trace the various affections or states of mind that
have successively contributed to form or to modify any
pecuHar sentiment or emotion, and to develope the
elements, to which, after tracing this succession, the re-
sulting sentiment or emotion is felt by us to bear virtually
that relation of seeming comprehensiveness of which I
spoke."*
In the scientific] examination of mind, analysis must be
employed, as well as in that of matter. It is less, perhaps,
a subject of wonder than of regret, to those who are ac-
quainted with the literary productions of Mr. Dugald Stew-
art, that he should interpose the high authority of his name
to prevent an entrance even into a field of investigation so
important. How can it be doubted that in education, ora-
tory and poetry, there would exist more power in guiding
the thoughts and feelings of men in general, if we possess-
ed a more intimate knowledge of the elements of our com-
plex sentiments and affections; i,e. a knowledge of the
varied simpler thoughts and feedings, which the power of
association has bound indissolubly together ? From the in-
fluence of how many circumstances, adapted to modify in-
juriously our subsequent states of mind, — to pervert the
judgment, and to corrupt the heart, — might we be pre-
served, were intellectual science more generally studied
and understood ! No man, whose sentiments are guided
by Divine Revelation, can expect that any attempted pro-
cess of moral reformation, without higher concurring
energy, will subvert the empire of evil in the world. But
every possible corrective of a moral nature wc ought to
employ; while we look to higher instrumentality, and
higher agency, for more glorious triumphs than any which
education alone can achieve.
* Vol. I. pp. 234, 5.
46 POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES
CHAPTER III.
THE TRUE NATURE OF THE POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES
OF THE MIND EXPLAINED.
The phaenomena of mind, or its varied thoughts and
feelings, comprise, as we have seen, every thing, in rela-
tion to it, of which we can obtain any knowledge. It mil
be desirable, therefore, to endeavour to ascertain what is
the notion we ought to form of these phaenomena.
The body possesses various members, distinct from each
other, though they form unitedly one beautiful and perfect
whole. And hence it is possible to lose one of the bodily
members while the others remain, or to put one in motion,
while the others continue at rest.
From our proneness to reason analogically, we are apt
to transfer the same mode of thinking to the mind— to con-
ceive that it consists of various powers, asjtfeebody is com-
posed of different members, each of which is distinct from
the others, and also from the mind itself-— capable of ex-
isting apart from the rest, or of perishing while its asso-
ciate powers remain in being, and in vigour.
A little reflection will, however, convince us that some
at least of these notions are utterly inconsistent with our
conceptions of mind as a simple indivisible essence. It
will remind us that, as the mind does not, like the body,
consist of parts, no analogy borrowed from the latter will
apply here ; that the powers of perceiving, feeling, judging,
&c. are not to be considered as separate portions or mem-
bers, so to speak, of the mind ; but as capabilities, im-
parted to it by its Creator, of existing in various states of
thought, and feeling, which constitute the whole phaeno-
mena of the mind, and, as far at least as the physiology of
the mind is concerned, the exclusive subject of inquiry and
examination.
or THE MIND EXPLAINED. 47
With reference then to these phaenomena, let it be ob-
served, that they are not to be regarded as constituting
something distinct from the mind, but as being the mind
itself in different states. This is one of the fundamental
principles of Dr. Brown's philosophy ; and its importance
is so great as to render it deserving of a little fuller eluci-
dation. I shall view ii^ first, in its bearing upon the actual
phaenomena of the mind; and, secondly, in reference to
what we denominate its powers and susceptibilities.
, According to the doctrine of the Peripatetics, ideas are
not merely distinct from the mind, but actual images of
objects which are contemplated by the mind, as it was sup-
posed, in perception, and which rise again to view in every
act of memory. This doctrine is now, however, univer-
sally discarded ; and, indeed, so manifest is its absurdity,
that it is impossible to avoid expressing astonishment at
the length of time during which it held dominion over the
public mind. In many instances the existence of such an
image is altogether incredible, or rather impossible.
" That there should be an image of an individual object
in the mind, as of a rose, is conceivable. But what image
can there be of honesty, of justice, or of any other similar
quality ?" It is now, accordingly, generally admitted, thit
an idea is nothing more than the conception which the
mind forms of an object. It is not, however, to be doubted
that this word, together with the similar terms, notion,
thought, &c., is still apt to be regarded as denoting some-
thing i7i the mind, distinct from the mind itself, and
capable of being actually separated from it. We talk of
a notion, a thought, or an idea, as though it constituted
a real independent entity, like gold, silver, &c. " There
seems," says Mr. Welsh, "to be a natural tendency in all
men, when they first reflect upon the subjects of their
consciousness, to conceive that ideas and feelings arc
something different from the mind itself. We ascribe to
them a real existence, shadowy and undefined it may be,
but still real, as if they were separate entities over which
we exercise a mysterious power, calling them into exist-
ence, and allowing them again to fade into nothing at our
48 POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES
will."* All this is delusion. There is no notion or idea
in the mind, and distinguishable from it. A thought, in
the concrete state, i. e, " a particular thought, as it really
exists in the mind of an individual, is the mind thinking" —
an idea is the mind conceiving. " A cause of thought we
can easily conceive separate from the mind, in an outward
object," — ^'' or an object we can conceive separate from the
mind about which our thoughts are employed ; but what
notion is it possible to form of a thought distinguishable
from the mind thinking,"! or of an idea from the mind
conceiving ?
Our notions, thoughts, and ideas, then, are nothing more
than the mind itself in difterent states : and a similar asser-
tion may be made with reference to our endlessly diversified
sensations. They are not distinct and separable from the
mind. There is not the mind, and its sensation, as we
say there is the body, and the limbs ; for the sensation is
the mind affected in a particular way. When the leg, or
arm, has received some injury, we do not say there is the
arm and its wound ; for the wound is, not indeed the arm
itself, but the arm in a particular state. In like manner a
sensation is not actually the mind itself, as Mr. Welsh pro-
perly observes ; for we employ the word Mind to signify
the unknown substance of which the qualities only can be
ascertained, — but the mind, i. e, this unknown substance,
in a particular state.
The same thing may be said of the varied affections of
the mind. We are not to conceive of the emotions of joy.
sorrow, hope, fear, &c., which there is reason to think many
do, as so many feelings laid up, so to speak, in the mind —
feelings distinct from the mind, and capable of being deve-
loped by appropriate circumstances. They are the mind
itself in different states, or affected in various ways. They
only exist, accordingly, when they are felt. There is no
joy, or sorrow, &,c. in the mind when these emotions are
not experienced. Doubtless the mind possesses a capability
of being made to exist in those particular states to which
n\2l5 tP221.
OF THE .Ml.\'i> ILXl'LAlNtU. 49
we give the name of hope, fear, &c. ; and, for ordinary
purposes, it may be sufficiently accurate to call this capa-
bility the affection of hope, fear, &c. But, in reality, hope,
or fear, is the mind affected in a particular manner, or
existing in a particular state. The capability of experi-
encing these emotions, stands in a similar relation to the
emotions themselves, with the power of perceiving exten-
sion, solidity, (fee, to the perception of extension, &c. itself.
It is not difficult to show the application of these
principles to what are called the powers and susceptibilities
of the mind. They are not to be regarded as distinct from
the mind itself, or as separate from each other. Of this
the great Mr. Locke was well aware. " These powers of
the mind, viz. of perceiving and preferring," says this
writer, " are usually called by another name, and the ordi-
nary way of speaking is, that the understanding, and the
will, are two faculties of tlie mind ; a word proper enough
if it be used, as all words should be, so as not to breed any
confusion in men's thoughts by being supposed, as I
suspect it has been, to stand for some real beings in the
soul, that performed those actions of understanding and
volition. For when we say the will is the commanding or
superior faculty of the soul ; that it is, or is not free ; that
it determines the inferior faculties ; that it follows the dic-
tates of the understanding, &c. ; though these, and the like
expressions, by those that carefully attend to their own
ideas, and conduct their thoughts more by the evidence of
things than the sound of words, may be understood in a
clear and distinct sense ; yet I suspect, I say, that this way
of speaking of faculties has misled many into a confused
notion of so many distinct agents in us, which had their
several provinces and authorities, and did command, obey,
and perform several actions, as so many distinct beings,
which has been no small occasion of wrangling, obscurity,
and uncertainty, in questions relating to them."*
The faculties of the mind, or its powers and susceptibi-
lities, let it then be remembered, are not to be distinguished
from the mind itself. The words denote the constitution
* Book 11. Chap. xxi. § 0.
7
50 POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES
it has received from its Creator, by which it is capable of
existing in all those* different states, which form the con-
sciousness of life. Our actual feelings depend upon the na-
ture of the mind, and the nature of the objects by which the
mind is affected. Were a change in either to take place,
the pha^nomena, which it is the business of intellectual
science to contemplate, would undergo a corresponding
change|. " It is the object, indeed, which affects the mind
when sentiment ; but it is the original susceptibility of
the mind itself, which determines and modifies the parti-
cular affection, very nearly, if I may illustrate what is
mental by so coarse an image, as the impression which a
seal leaves on melted wax depends, not on the qualities of
the wax alone, or of the seal alone, but on the softness of
the one, and the form of the other."*
Thus the powers and susceptibilities of the mind are not
to be identified with the actual phsenomena of mind,
though they constitute nothing different from the mind itself.
They are, in fact, the nature of the mind ; — its capabilities
of feeling, thinking, conceiving, judging, &c. ; an actual
feeling, or conception, or judgment, as it exists in the
mind, is the mind itself in a particular state.
There is not a very broad line of distinction between the
powers and the susceptibilities of the mind. Both of the
terms denote a certain constitution of the mind. The
latter exhibits what Locke called its passive powers, that
is, its capacities of undergoing certain changes ; the latter
intimates its faculties of producing certain changes. The
odour of a rose comes in contact with the olfactory nerves,
and a certain mental feeling, or a sensation, is the result ;
2. e. a change is produced in the state of the mind ; this
change indicates the existence of a mental susceptibility.
We will to move our limbs -y the limbs are instantly obe-
dient to volition ; and the change in the state of the body,
produced by volition, indicates a mental power.
To the above distinction, though correct, no great prac-
tical importance is to be attached. It is of far greater con-
sequence to remember, that neither the term susceptibility
* Brown, vol. I. p. 22.
OF THE MIND EXPLAIXKT). 51
nor power denotes any thing distinct from the constitution
of the mind. The susceptibility to which we have referred,
is a certain constitution of mind, in consequence of which,
a change in its state takes place on the approach of a cer-
tain material object. The power to which we have re-
ferred, is also a certain constitution of mind, in conse-
quence of which a change takes place in the state of the
body, subsequent to a certain feeling of mind. What is a
sensation but a certain state of mind? What is a volition
but a certain state of mind? They both imply a certain
constitution of mind by which it is rendered capable of
existing in these different states ; but whether we give to
this constitution the name of susceptibility, or power, or
capacity, is of no material importance. When the state of
mind of which we at any time speak, is regarded as a con-
sequent of something else, it may be convenient to say that
it indicates a corresponding mental susceptibility; and
when it is regarded as the antecedent of something else,
that it proves the existence of a mental power. But the
susceptibility, and the power, a^re not different from the
mind. Both may be included under the general term ca-
pacity of existing in certain states, — a capacity of which
we can know nothing, but by the states of thought, and
feeling, which grow out of it, and which is to be ascribed
to the sovereign pleasure of the Creator of the mind.
Nor are the states of mind which are thus indicative of
what are called mental powers, and mental susceptibilities, >
so radically different as it is sometimes imagined. The
mind has the power of volition; it has also the susceptibi-
lity of sensation. Now between an actual sensation, and
an actual volition, what essential distinction, of the kind,
that is, which the words susceptibility and power might
lead us to expect, is found to exist ? They are both states
of mind. They are both caused by something else ; for
volition can no more exist without a cause than sensation.
Each of them may be the cause of something else. The
sensation of hunger nrny produce the desire of food ; a voli-
tion may produce a bodily movement. Why then should
the latter be said to indicate a mental power, and the
^ POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES
former a mental susceptibility? In fact there is not a
single state of mind which may not sustain the double
relation of cause and effect — which may not be itself a
change from a former state, and lead to a change. So
that, according to the foregoing distinction between
susceptibilities and powers, all our mental faculties may
be regarded as constituting both ; and if an attempt be
made to establish any other distinction, it will, we think,
be found to prove abortive.
In the subsequent part of this volume, the term suscep-
tibilities, or powers, will be used to denote the nature or
capacity, or constitution of the mind, by which it is capa-
ble of existing in those varied states of thought, and feeK
ing, which form the consciousness of life.
The whole of the preceding statement may be illustrated
by a reference to the properties or qualities of physical
substances. These properties cannot be separated from
the body in which they inhere. There is no such thing in
nature, as a quality apart from its substance. The truth
of this will further appear from another statement which
we now proceed to make, viz. that these properties consti-
tute nothing distinct from the substance itself. They are
the substance formed capable of undergoing and of origi-
nating certain changes; its capacities of producing
changes, we term its powers ; its capacities of tindergoing-
changes, we denominate its susceptibilities.
It has been too common to conceive of the powers, pro-
perties or qualities of a substance, as something super-
added to it, and capable of being withdrawn from it. This
is a great mistake. Dr. Brown has shown, with resistless
force of argument, that " the substances which exist in
nature, are every thing that has a real existence in nature."
The statement, however, of this writer, and of his able and
excellent biographer, the Rev. Dr. Welsh, that the powers,
or qualities of a substance, are the substance itself consi-
dered in relation to certain changes which it undergoes or
occasions, seems to me liable to exception. It is in har-
mony with their doctrine with regard to causation, and
must stand or fall with it. If the powers, &c. of bodies.
OF THE MIND EXPLAINED. tt*^ "^ ^ ^^ *^ *^ * ^ '
are those bodies considered in different relation^|j^^^?Q^^3^^
that if we, who observe the relations, did not exis!^'
powers of which we speak would not exist. Besides, as it
is not the direct energy of the Deity, which, according to
their system, binds the cause and the effect together, it
leaves the important fact, how it comes to pass that the
particular relations which we actually witness exist, and
not apposite relations, altogether unaccounted for. I pre-
fer, therefore, the statement given above, viz. that the
powers or qualities of a substance, are not indeed to be
regarded as any thing different from the substance, but
the particular nature, or constitution, which the Creator
has given to it, in consequence of which it is capable of
existing in the various relations it sustains toother bodies.
A similar exception must, we think, be taken against the
statement, that the powers or susceptibilities of the mind
are the mind itself, considered in relation to certain
changes which it occasions, or undergoes. They rather
denote, as it has been already stated, that particular na-
ture or constitution which has been given to it by its Cre-
ator ; in consequence of which it is capable of existing in
these various relations. Power, or susceptibility, in short,
denotes not the relations themselves, nor the consideration
of tl^em, but a physical capacity of sustaining them.
Before we leave this subject, there is one source of mis-
conception, against which the reader should be especially
cautioned. The states of thought and feeling, in whicli
the mind is capable of existing, which constitute the pha*-
nomena of the mind — all, indeed, which can be known of
the mind — are incalculable in point of number. Now as
each state of mind supposes a previous susceptibility of
existing in that state, we are in danger of imagining that
there must be a number of separate susceptibilities in the
mind, corresponding with its individual states. The error
involved in this conception will be perceived, when the
previous statements with reference to the meaning of the
term susceptibility are recollected. A mental susceptibi-
lity is nothing different from the mind itself. It is the sim-
ple indivisible essence, formed capable of producing or
54 POWERS AND SUSCEFTlBILiTlES
undergoing certain changes, in which the whole phaeno-
mena of mind consist. The mind is not made up of parts;
it cannot therefore consist of a number of separate suscep-
tibihties. But though simple and indivisible, it may be
capable of producing and undergoing changes which are
not in their nature less different from each other than are
the circumstances in which they arise. This is finely illus-
trated by Mr. Welsh, in regard to the properties of physi-
cal substances. An object possesses colour and gravity, i, e.
it excites a certain feeling in our mind to which we give
the name of the sensation of colour ; and it attracts the
earth and other substanc.es. Now the question is, are there
two distinct powers in the object to produce these differ-
ent effects ? In reply, Mr. Welsh says, " Now, without any
minute analysis of what we mean by colour, gravitation,
&c., it may be observed that the colour, not being
in the object, is merely an effect of the object on our
minds ; and the approach of the earth is not in the
object, it is an effect produced on the earth. And, as
the objects operated upon are essentially different, there
is no occasion for supposing two different powers for the
two different results. It might be demonstrated that, if
the substance were one, and nothing more than one, it
would, when placed in relation to objects so essentially
different as a mass of matter, and a spiritual substance,
produce essentially different effects. To suppose then that
there must be two powers, when one is sufficient to account
for all that we see produced, is an unwarrantable violation
of Newton's simplest axiom. How different is the sensa-
tion of heat upon approaching the finger to a lighted can-
dle, and the melting of wax when it is placed in a similar
situation. But no one surely will maintain, that heat has
the power of melting wax, and a different power for exci-
ting a peculiar sensation — there is nothing but the heat
simply in relation to two different substances. Why, then,
should we any more suppose different powers inherent in
the gold, or indeed, in any other simple substance ?"* And,
again, in a passage which 1 trust he will excuse me for thus
*Fid€ Memoirs of Brown, pp. Ill, 112.
OF THE MIND EXPLAINED. 55
introducing, " a piece of wax is susceptible of a thousand
different impressions, but there are not a thousand differ-
ent qualities in the wax ; there is the one quality of taking
impressions, conceived in relation to a thousand impressive
forms. Thus it is with the mind. Millions of figures may
be placed before our eyes, one after another, and the mind
is in a different state upon every new figure being presented.
But this is surely one simple mind, considered in relation
to a million objects. So with colours, sounds, &,c." In
harmony with previous remarks, I should be disposed to
make a slight change in the phraseology, or little more
than in the phraseology, of these admirable passages*
CHAPTER IV,
THE MANNEB IN WHICH OUR KNOWLEDGE OP THE MENTAL
PHENOMENA IS OBTAINED.
Op the essence both of Matter and of Mind, we are, as
we have seen, profoundly ignorant. All that can be
known, with reference to both, is comprehended in the
varying phoenomena which they exhibit An important
question then occurs here, " In what way do we gain our
acquaintance with these phaenomena ? How do the worlds
of matter and of mind become known to us? Is it neces-
sary that we should be endowed with special and separate
powers to obtain that little information, with reference to
each, to which it is possible for us, in the present state to
attain?"
To the latter question an answer has usually been given
in the affirmative. Sensation, or perception, it is gene-
rally said, is the link which unites us to the material uni-
verse, — that high, and in many respects, mysterious power,
which reveals to us the phoenomena of nature, or the world
tvithout us; while consciousness makes us acquainted with
56 ON THE NATURE
the feelings and changeful appearances of the world
within.
Now concerning the way in which phgenomena of mat-
ter become known to us, there is, and can be, no doubt.
External objects affect our organs of sense, or, as we are
accustomed to say, (though the words convey no distinct
meaning, being little better than a cloak for ignorance,)
make some impression upon them. This impression upon
the organ is instantly followed by a certain feeling, or state
of mind, — a feeling or state which necessarily supposes
that the mind must have been so constituted by its Cre-
ator as to be capable of being made to exist in that parti-
cular state; or, in other words, that a certain power — the
power of sensation or perception, has been conferred upon
it by the Deity. Thus the phaenomena of matter become
known to us, and can only become known to us, through the
medium of a certain physical or bodily conformation, in
union with a certain mental susceptibility or power.
The same mode of thinking we have been in the habit,
as it appears to me, of transferring improperly to the phae-
nomena of mind. Since the properties of matter can only
be discovered by means of the power of perception, — to
which power the various bodies by which we are sur-
rounded, together with their various properties, stand in
the relation of objects, — we are apt to imagine, that the
phaenomena of mind require for their recognition a pecu-
liar power, to which a definite name must be attached.
But in suffering ourselves to be seduced by this analogy, we
forget that the phaenomena of the mind are its varied
thoughts and feelings ; and that it may not, accordingly,
require what we call a distinct power of mind, to give us
the knowledge of our feelings, though a particular faculty
is necessary to secure to us an acquaintance with bodies
which are out of the mind, whose existence can, accord-
ingly, only become known by some operation upon the
mind, or by the production of some change in its state,
the very production of which necessarily supposes, as we
have seen, that the mind is possessed of a corresponding
susceptibility of undergoing that change.
OF (JUNSClOUSNESs. 57
To this supposed power, which has thus for its objects,
as it is conceived, the phaenomena of mind, philosophers
have given the name of Consciousness, We shall first
examine their statements with regard to its nature — state-
ments in which there are some things to commend, though
the general doctrine they advocate must, it is conceived, be
abandoned.
" Consciousness," says Dr. Reid, " is a word used by
philosophers to signify that immediate knowledge which we
have of our present thoughts and purposes, and, in general,
of all the present operations of the mind."* Within the
compass of a few lines, he speaks of it as " a power by
which we have a knowledge of the operations of our own
minds." Again, in another part of his generally excellent
writings, he tell us that " Consciousness is an operation of
the understanding of its own kind, and cannot be logically
defined." "The objects of it," he adds, are our present
pains, our pleasures, our hopes, our fears, our desires, our
doubts, our thoughts of every kind, &c." It is scarcely
possible to conceive that the general views of this writer
were very distinct, when he could permit phraseology so
loose and contradictory to escape from his pen. Conscious-
ness is, first, the immediate knowledge we have of our
thoughts, &c. ; then a power by which we know them ;
then, again, an operation of the understandings (i. e. accord-
ing to the philosophy of this writer, a power of a power,)
which cannot be logically defined. It is surely needless to
remark, that the first and second statements are self-contra-
dictory, and the third, contrary to both. If consciousness
be knowledge^ it cannot be a power to know. If it be an
operation of the understanding, it can, on his system, be
neither the one nor the other.
Passing by this inaccuracy, some of the subsequent
statements of Dr. Reid deserve our attention. He tells
us, in substance at least, and that very justly, that con-
sciousness has relation only to things in the mind, such as
our thoughts, sensations, emotions, &c. — that these are the
♦ Vol. I. p. 32.
8
58 ON THE NATURE
only proper objects of consciousness — that it cannot be
said correctly that we are conscious of the beings and
things that surround us — that they are objects of percep-
tion, not of consciousness — that it is improper to say we
are conscious of things past, even of the past feelings, &,c.
— that they are objects of memory, not consciousness.
Dr. Reid might have added, that though we cannot be
conscious of any thing out of the mind, we may be said to
be conscious of the perceptions and emotions they awaken,
because they are really things in the mind, or the mind in
particular states of thought and feeling. This power of
consciousness, Dr. Reid affirms to be a different power
from that by which we perceive external objects ; and a
philosopher, he says, ought carefully to preserve this dis-
tinction. Regarding consciousness thus as an original
power of the mind, distinct from all others, by which we
gain the, knowledge of things in the mind, our author
proceeds to show, why we put confidence in its testimony.
The mind experiences a sensation : consciousness assures
us that such is the case. " But if I am asked to prove that
I cannot be deceived by consciousness, I can find," he says,
" no proof" " I cannot find any antecedent truth from
which it is deduced, or upon which its evidence may
depend." He tells us further, that the irresistible convic-
tion we have of the operations of our minds, is not the
effect of reasoning, but is immediate and intuitive. " The
existence, therefore," he adds, " of those passions and
operations of our minds, of which we are conscious, is a
first principle, which nature requires us to believe upon
her authority."
A simpler view of the nature of consciousness would
have shown this excellent writer, how completely unneces-
sary are all such statements. They accord with, and are
indeed required by his system, which regards consciousness
as an original power of the mind, and whose testimony, like
that of perception, it might be supposed necessary to con-
firm and establish. But if consciousness be not an original
power — if the consciousness of the moment be nothing
more than the feeling of the moment — if the consciousness
dp CONSCIOUSNESS. 59
of pain, for instance, be the sensation itself, it is manifestly
absurd to attempt even to prove that we experience it.
All that can be desired or said is, that we actually suffer
pain. No one in a sound state of mind, will ask for proof
that the feeling really exists.
Mr. Stewart agrees in the general doctrine of his prede-
cessor. " It is," says he, " by the immediate evidence of
consciousness, that we arc assured of the present existence
of our various sensations, of all our affections, passions,
hopes, fears, thoughts, (fee." He states, very justly, that
consciousness is confined to what we call states of mind
— that it does not inform us of the existence of mind itself;
and, he adds, " it would not be possible to arrive at the
knowledge of its existence, even supposing us to be created
in the full possession of all the intellectual capacities whicli
belong to human nature, if no impression were ever to be
made on an external sense." He proceeds to observe, " that
the moment in which a sensation is produced, we learn two
facts at once — the existence of the sensation, and our own
existence as sentient beings ; in other words, the very
first exercise of consciousness necessarily implies a belief,
not only of the present existence of what is felt, but of the
present existence of that which thinks and feels, or of that
being which I denote, I, and myself." It is, however, of
the former of these facts only that we are conscious.*
At present we say nothing with reference to the origin
of the belief of our own existence ; but we would just ask,
en passant, what is meant by the assertion " that the mo-
ment in which a sensation is produced, we learn the exist-
ence of the sensation?'''' Is not this an identical proposi-
tion, amounting to the statement, — " the instant we feel,
we feel r''
Mr. Stewart is not free from that vagueness of state-
ment, of which it was found necessary to complain in the
case of Dr. Reid. In his " Outlines," he enumerates con-
sciousness among the poivers of the mind. And yet, in
* Fide Outlines, pp. 18, 19. Philosophical Esiays, Essay I. Chap. I.
Elements, Vol. 11. p. 52—54.
60 ON THE NATURE
his formal definition of the term, he says, " the word de-
notes the immediate knowledge which the mind has of its
thoughts, &c." He then immediately adds, " the belief
with which it (consciousness) is attended," {i, e. according
to his own definition, with which our immediate know-
ledge of our thoughts, &c. is attended,) " has been consi-
dered as the most irresistible of any, &c."* Thus, con-
sciousness is first a power of the mind ; then the immedi-
ate knowledge we have of our thoughts ; and, finally, this
immediate knowledge of our thoughts is attended with an
irresistible belief that we have them !
Statements thus confused and self-contradictory, pro-
ceeding from such men as Dr. Reid and Mr. Stewart, go
very far to induce us to suspect, that there must be some
radical defect in the opinions which have been held on this
important subject; and the mistakes of others, who agree
with them in their general doctrine, are calculated to
strengthen this suspicion. Thus it has been said, that
"consciousness is awakened by two different classes of ob-
jects, — that we are conscious of the effects produced by
external objects upon the organs of sense, — and of the
mind's attention to them." Ey the word "effects," in the
first member of the sentence, the writer meant, not effects
upon the organ, as the language would seem to imply, but
upon tlie mind ; for he immediately adds, " these effects are
sensations." Of the attention of the mind to these sensa-
tions, we are said to be conscious ; and it is by means of
it, (viz. this attention) that we gain, as it is further said,
the knowledge of external objects. This latter assertion,
however, unless understood with great modifications, is
untrue. We might attend for ever to the sensation pro-
duced by the fragrance of a rose, for instance, without per-
ceiving the rose ; yea, without the idea once arising in the
mind, that the feeling resulted from the influence of any
thing ad extra. We should believe, indeed, that it had a
cause ; but we might imagine that the cause was in the
mind. It is not every sensation that gives us the notion of
* Outlines, p. 18.
or CONSCIOUSNESS. 01
oxteinal objects; and when that notion does arise, it
springs, by a law of the mind, as we shall afterward see,
out of the sensation itself; it is not gained by attention to
it, nor by any process of reflection upon it.
It was left for Dr. Brown to give us more correct, and
therefore intelligible, views of the nature of consciousness.
His perspicacious mind could not repose upon the vague-
ness of preceding writers. Indeed, their representations
are at direct variance with those fundamental parts of his
system which have come under our review. The old sys-
tem, built upon a falsely admitted analogy between matter
and mind, regards individual sensations, <fcc. as standing
in the relation of objects, to the sentient mind — as external
things stand in the relation of objects to the mind in percep-
tion. " Now that any particular feeling is so radically dis-
tinct and different from the sentient principle, as to justify
us in classifying it in the relation of an object to this sen-
tient principle, is obviously inconsistent," says the Rev. D.
Welsh, " with his doctrine concerning the nature of our
thoughts, feelings, (fee. viz. that they are not distinct from
the mind, but the mind itself in particular states."
Accordingly Dr. Brown maintains, that consciousness is
not a distinct power of the mind — that the word conscious-
ness is a general term expressive of the whole variety of
our feelings ; so that the phrase, the whole consciousness
of life, denotes all the feelings we experience during life ; —
he states that to be conscious of a sensation, and to have
that sensation, is the same thing. Referring to Dr. Reid's
statements, he says, "To me, I must confess that this
attempt to double, as it were, our various feelings, by
making them not to constitute our consciousness, but to
be the objects of it, as of a distinct intellectual power, is
not a faithful statement of the phaenomena of the mind,
but is founded partly on a confusion of thought, and
still more on a confusion of language. Sensation 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 sim-
ple remembrance, may be the actual consciousness of the
62 ON THE NATURE
next moment." "In the mind," he tells us, ''that there
is nothing but a certain series of feelings, or of transient
successive states ; — that the consciousness we have of them,
is nothing more than the thoughts and sensations them-
selves, which could not be thoughts and sensations if they
were not felt;" — "that the evidence of consciousness is
nothing more than the evidence implied in the mere exist-
ence of our sensations, thoughts, desires, — which it is
utterly impossible for us to believe to be, and not to be; or,
in other words, impossible for us to/eeZ, and not to feel, at
the same moment."*
With these statements of Dr. Brown, I most fully concur.
Little more, indeed, seems to me necessary to secure their
general reception, than to lay them before the view of the
public. They are accompanied by no difficulties to pre-
vent their general adoption ; while, amongst many others,
the two following may be mentioned as presenting formi-
dable objections against the doctrine of Dr. Reid and Mr.
Stewart.
First, it supposes the mind not merely to exist in two
diiFerent states, but in two different states with reference
to the same thing, at the same time, which is manifestly
absurd. Take the case, for instance, of the sensation pro-
duced by the odour of a rose. Here the sensation itself,
according to Dr. Reid's doctrine, is one thing — the con-
sciousness of it, another. The sensation is the feeling, or
state of mind, which results from the contact of the odori-
ferous particles, and the organ of sense ; the consciousness
is the immediate knowledge we have that it exists ; so that
the mind is in two different states — in a state of feeling,
and in a state of consciousness of the feeling, at the same
time and with reference to the same object ; which is
equivalent with saying, that we remember a sensation, and
Jiave the sensation at the game time.
Secondly, Dr. Reid's doctrine that consciousness is a
distinct power of the mind, by which we gain the know-
ledge of its present thoughts, sensations, &c. necessarily
* Vide p. 244~2.'57.
0¥ CONSCIOUSNESS. 6S
supposes that, without this faculty of consciousness, an im-
penetrable veil would hang over all the mental phaeno-
mena, — that we might, and indeed, must remain in a state
of utter and hopeless ignorance of our infinitely diversified
thoughts and feelings; in other words, that we should
think without thinking, and feel without feeling; — a state-
ment which involves in it direct contradiction ; for a sen-
sation which is not felt, is not a sensation at all.
CHAPTER V.
'i Mfi ORIGIN OF THE NOTION OF SELF, AND THE IDENTITY OF
THE THINKING PRINCIPLE AMIDST ALL THE VARIETY OF ITS
CONSCIOUSNESS.
The notion of self is the conception of the existence of
mind, as the permanent subject of the ever-shifting and
endlessly diversified phaenomena, of which, in popular lan-
guage, we are said to be conscious. How then does this
notion arise ? The question is not unattended with diflS-
culty ; and, as it might have been expected, the answer
returned by different philosophers is by no means the same.
If the existence of Mind, or of the being denoted by the
words I, and myself, were a subject of consciousness, it
would be manifestly as absurd to put the inquiry, " How
do we attain the knowledge and belief of our existence ?^'
as to ask in what manner we know that we experience a
certain sensation. But this is not the case. " We are
conscious," says Mr. Stewart, " of our sensations, thoughts,
desires, &c., but we are not conscious of the existence of
mind itself." There is room, accordingly, for the ques-
tion, " In what manner does the notion of self, or of the
existence of mind, as distinct from our sensations, (in the
sense in which it can alone be said to be distinct,) arise ?"
The manner in which Mr. Stewart replies to the ques-
tion, has been laid before the reader. He contends that,
G4 ON THE ORIGIN OF
by an original law of the mind, the very first sensation gives
us the notion of our own existence, as sentient beings ; or,
that the first exercise of consciousness, implies a belief of
the present existence of that which feels, L e. of the exist-
ence of the being denoted by the words I, and myself.
This would seem also to have been the opinion of Dr.
Reid, for, after declaring that every man believes himself
to be something different from his ideas and impressions ;
something which continues the same identical self, when
all his ideas and impressions are changed, he tells us, —
when proceeding to treat of the origin of the notion con-
veyed by the word We, in such phrases as, " We are con-
scious of pain," — " that our sensations and thoughts give
us the notion of a mind, and of a faculty to think and feel.
The faculty of smelling," he adds, " is something very dif-
ferent from the actual sensation of smelling ; for the faculty
may remain when we have no sensation. And the mind is
no less different from the faculty ; for it continues the same
individual being when that faculty is lost. Yet this sensa-
tion suggests to us both a faculty and a mind ; and not
only suggests a notion of them," he adds, " but creates a
belief of their existence."*
The doctrine of Dr. Brown is essentially different. The
notion of self, or of mind, being the conception of some-
thing which remains unchanged, amidst changing phaeno-
mena, cannot, he maintains, arise out of any one sensation,
or state of mind. Conceive of a sentient being, brought
into existence, and experiencing, for the first time, a sim-
ple sensation : the whole consciousness of that being
would be the sensation he felt. " There would be," says
he, " in this first momentary state, no separation of self,
and the sensation ; no little proposition formed in the mind,
I feel ^ or / am conscious of a feeling (that cannot be the
case till the notion of I or myself has arisen ;) but i\\e feel-
ing and the sentient I will, for the moment, be the same."
He afterward states, that if our feelings merely succeeded
each other, in the same manner as the moving bodies of a
* Inquiry into the Human MinJ, 5th etlit. pp. C1,G3.
THE NOTIOiN tJF ^LLF. 05
long procession are reflected from a mirror, witliout any
vestige of them as past, or, consequently, any remembrance
of their successions, we should be as incapable of forming
a notion of the sentient substance mind, abstracted from
the momentary sensation, as the mirror itself; though we
should, indeed, difler from the mirror, in having what mind
only can have, the sensations themselves, thus rapidly ex-
isting and perishing."*
The notion of self, according to the statements of this
writer, can only arise on the recollection of some past
feeling ; so that it must ultimately be traced to memory,
the revealer to us of our past feelings. A sensation of
acute pain is experienced ; it is succeeded by a vivid
emotion of pleasure, and the remembrance of the former
co-exists with the latter. The sensation and the emotion
are felt by us to be radically different ; yet we conceive of
them, and cannot but conceive of them, as feelings of the
same being ; i. e, there arises the notion of something
which is permanent, amidst the successions of feelings,
and which constitutes the subject of these feelings ; or, in
other words, there arises the notion of I, or myself. It is
not, however, merely from a recollection of the particular
kind specified, that this notion arises. It may exist, and
we are disposed to think must so exist, with every instance
of remembrance. " We remember,'''' says Dr. Brown ;
and in that remembrance is involved the belief, the source
of which we seek. It is not merely a past feeling that
arises to us, in what is commonly termed memory, but a
feehng that is recognized by us as ours, in that past time
of which we think ; a feeling, therefore, of that mind
which now remembers what it before saw, perhaps, or
heard, or enjoyed, or suffered.!
On the whole, I am disposed to agree with Dr. Brown,
in his account of the actual origin of our notion of self.
1 cannot go with him, however, in the assertion that this
notion cannot arise out of any one state of mind ; and
that the doctrine of Mr. Stewart must accordingly be re-
* Pp. 293,294. t Vol. I. p. 294.
9
I^
r
OG ^. OS THE OKIGliV OF
jected, as athrming what is in itself impossible. I know
of no reason why God should not have so formed the hu-
man mind, as that the notion of self should arise in the
manner stated by Mr. Stewart ; whether he has actually
done so is another question, and to that I should reply in
the negative. Dr. Brown has been led to the assertion,
that memory is essential to the conception in question, by
confounding two things which appear to me distinct ; viz.
the notion of self, and the notion of identity. The for-
mer would seem to me to be the conception of mind, as
the permanent subject of our thoughts, feelings, &,c. ; the
latter, the conception of this mind, as unchanging. The
two statements cannot be affirmed to be identical, but on
the false assumption, that substances are incapable of
change. We might possess a mind, and yet that mind,
though continuing to be the subject of our sensations,
thoughts, &c., might be liable to suffer change, and ac-
tually undergo it. Dr. Brown identifies these conceptions.
" The knowledge of our mind as a substance, and the be-
lief of our identity, during our successive feelings, may be
considered," he says, " as the same notion, expressed in
different words." If this were correct, his statements,
with regard to the necessity of memory, would also be
correct. For though I can conceive of the notion of
self, i. e. the notion of mind, as the subject of sensation,
arising out of a single sensation, in the manner stated by
Mr. Stewart, I cannot conceive that the notion of the
unchangeahleness, i. e. the identity of this subject, could
be originated in this manner. To the conception of the
identity, i. e. as 1 regard it, the unchangeableness of the
mind, it seems obviously necessary that a change of state
should be experienced.
We have, as yet, only described the circumstances in
which the notion and belief of self arises. There remains
the important inquiry, "how it comes to pass, that the re-
collection of one feeling, and the experience of another,
should originate the notion V Mr. Stewart says, it is by a
law of the mind. Mr. Welsh tells us, that "it flows from
a principle of intuition, of which no further account can be
THE NOTIOT or SELF. «j^
given, than that it forms a part of our constitution, and
operates universally, immediately, and irresistibly, as often
as we think of the past and the present." Dr. Brown adds,
" that it is not the result of any series of propositions, but
arises immediately, in certain circumstances," i. e. in the
circumstances which have been described, " from a princi-
ple of thought, as essential to the very nature of the mind,
as its powers of perception, or memory, or as the power of
reasoning itself, on the essential validity of which, and con-
sequently, on the intuitive belief of some first truth, on
which it is founded, every objection to the force of these
very truths themselves must ultimately rest."*
In fact, all that can be said on this subject is, that the
mind has been so constituted by its Creator, that the notion
of self, in the circumstances described by Dr. Brown, arises
necessarily. We may regard this as an instinctive belief,
and we are apt to consider it peculiarly inexplicable ; yet
it might not, perhaps, be difficult to show, that it does not
differ essentially from every other case of belief; and, at
any rate, it is not more mysterious than the phaenomena of
sensation, which are not thought by some to involve any
difficulty. An impression is made upon an organ of sense
— it is followed by a certain feeling or state of mind : now
what can be said in this case, any more than in the other,
but that God has so formed the mind, that, in certain cir-
cumstances, the sensation alluded to will be invariably
experienced ?
After the notion of self has arisen, the phrase, " I am
conscious of a certain sensation," may be supposed to de-
note more than the mere existence of the sensation. In
that case, it means that the permanent being, denoted by
the words I and myself, and which is capable of existing
in almost infinitely diversified states of feeling, is, at this
moment, the subject of the particular state or sensation
specified. Still the consciousness of the moment is nothing
different from the feeling of the moment ; the / merely
denotes the mind as remaining, while all its feelings are
evanescent.
* Vol. I. pp. 281,282.
f>8 ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT
CHAPTER VI.
ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT OF THE MENTAL
PHiENOMENA.
The susceptibilities or powers of the mind are, as we
have seen, the mind itself, formed capable of existing in
various states of thought and feeling. These susceptibili-
ties can only be ascertained by actual observation, (as is
the case with regard to the properties of physical substan-
ces) — by a careful examination of the actual sensations,
thoughts, emotions, &c. of which we ourselves are con-
scious, or of whose existence in the minds of others, we
have indubitable proof. These infinitely diversified states
of mind, constituting the whole of the mental phaenomena,
are the sole objects of regard in this part, at least, of intel-
lectual science. They are to the mental philosopher, what
the various substances in the material universe are to the
inquirer in natural science. They present themselves, also,
for examination, in an analogous state of complexity and
disarrangement ; and they require, like them, to be reduced
to their elementary parts, and arranged in classes, on prin-
ciples both obvious and unexceptionable.
To this difficult and important work we now proceed.
I have avoided the common phraseology, viz. division of
the powers of the mind, because though I admit there is an
obvious distinction between the susceptibilities and pow-
ers of the mind, and the actual phcpmomena of the mind, —
/. e, its varied states of thought and feeling, — it is not less
manifest, as we have intimated, that the only method of
classifying these powers, &c. is to classify the phaenomena.
The process to be instituted has a direct reference to the
actual states of mind. These are to be analyzed, and ar-
ranged in classes, as referrible to different corresponding
OP THE MENTAL PHiCNOMEKA. 09
susceptibilities, or powers ; so that, in fact, a classification
of the mental phaenomena, is a classification of the mental
susceptibilities, &c.
In entering upon this subject, it should not be forgotten
that the phaenomena, concerning which we now inquire, arc
not only complex in their nature, in the sense in which this
can be aflirmeci of any of the states of a simple indivisible
essence, but incalculable in point of number. And since
every state of mind indicates a corresponding susceptibility,
we may adopt the statement of Dr. Brown, that "the suscep-
tibilities of the mind, by which, in different circumstances,
it may exist in these different states, are certainly as truly
infinite as the space which surrounds us, or as that eternity
which in its progress measures the successions of our feel-
ings, and all the other changes in the universe." In conse-
quence of that generalizing process, to which the phocno-
mena of mind have been subjected, we are, indeed, exceed-
ingly apt to conceive of those which we have arranged in
the same class, as if the individuals, of which it consists, had
no distinctive characters -, yet it ought never to be forgot-
ten that all our thoughts, and sensations, &c., how minute
soever may be the shades of diflference which exist amongst
them, constitute so many distinct and separate states, or
affections, of mind. There are no classes of sensations,
and thoughts, in the mind, — nothing is to be found there
but individual thoughts, and sensations, as every object in
the material world, is an individual object. We cannot
alter the nature or condition of the phaenomena themselves;
but, possessing the faculty of perceiving resemblances, we
can, after reducing those which are complex to the utmost
degree of simplicity, arrange and group, our individual
thoughts and sensations. We can thus accomplish (in
effect) what has been done, with so much benefit, in natural
science, a very considerable part of which consists in
classification. What is Natural History, but a science of
arrangement? What is Chemistry, but a science of analy-
sis, and arrangement? — sciences which have their founda-
tion in the constitution of the mind ; to which, it is as im-
possible to avoid comparing things together, and observing
their agreement, or the contrary, as to remain ignorant of
70 ANALYSIS AND ARaANGEMENX
the form and colour, &c. of surrounding objects, when we
have a distinct vision of them.
The science of Mental Philosophy, then, in as far at least
as it relates to the classification of the mental phaenomena,
is built upon one of its own powers — that power by which
we discover resemblance, or relation in general. Two, or
more objects meet our view, and we not only perceive
their individual properties but become immediately sensi-
ble of their resemblance to each other, in a variety of
respects. It is possible to conceive that the human mind
might have been so constituted as not to be capable of
recognizing this resemblance. In this case all science
(if indeed any thing worthy of the name of science^could
have existed) must have assumed a character differing
essentially from that which it bears at present — every thing
like arrangement being entirely out of the question. En-
dowed, however, with this noble power, the resemblances,
and relations in general, which it discovers to us, constitute
so many directors in classification, by the practical gui-
dance of which, assemblages of objects blended together
apparently in the most hopeless confusion, are easily made
to separate, and assume the utmost degree of order and
regularity. Referring to this admirable power, and its in-
fluence in the classification of the mental phoenomena, Dr.
Brown says, " It begins by converting thousands, and more
than thousands, into one, and reducing, in the same man-
ner, the numbers thus formed, arrives at last at the few dis-
tinctive characters of those great comprehensive tribes, on
which it ceases to operate, because there is nothing left to
oppress the memory, or the understanding.^
Still it must be carefully borne in mind, that " classifica-
tion has reference only to our mode of considering objects."
It effects no alteration (as we have already said) in the
phaenomena of mind themselves. It places those together
in our conceptions^ which are felt to resemble each other.
These we regard as distinct classes of affections, by an
enumeration of which we define the mind. " It is that,
wo say, which perceives, remembers, compares, grieves,
* Vol. I. p. 353.
OF THE MENTAL PHJENOME^'A. 71
rejoices, loves, hates, &.c." The terms, however, it must
not be forgotten, are mere inventions of our own, and each
of them "comprehends a variety of feelings, that are as
truly different from each other, as the classes themselves
are different." The process of classification may be con-
ducted on different principles, and carried to a greater
length by some, than by others ; but those states of mind
in which even no general circumstances of agreement can
be discovered, must be arranged in different classes ; and
to these ultimate divisions, if we may so call them, or ra-
ther to the constitution of mind which they indicate, we
give the name of Powers, or Susceptibilities of the mind.
It has been just stated that the process of classification
may be conducted on different principles. This circum-
stance results from the variety of relations which objects
bear to each other ; relations, which strike various minds
differently, in consequence of which they are led to adopt
even opposite modes of arrangement. And it is an impor-
tant remark of Dr. Brown, that the classification which ac-
tually approaches nearest to perfection,_may not be that
which seems, at first sight, most obvious ; and he very ad-
mirably illustrates this observation, in its application to the
phajnomena of the mind, by the obvious principle of ar-
rangement which would seem to be supplied by the three-
fold natural division of our sensations, into those which arc
agreeable, painful, and indifferent. To a common observer
this might appear a division as unexceptionable as it is
obvious: it is far, however, from being such in reality.
" For to take the pleasures and pains of sense," says the
Doctor, " for instance ; to what intelligible division could
we reduce those which are not merely fugitive in them-
selves, but vary, from pain to pleasure, and from pleasure
to pain, with a change of their external objects so slight
often, as to be scarcely appreciable, and in many cases
even when the external objects have continued exactly
the same ? How small and how variable a boundary sepa-
rates the warmth that is pleasing from the heat which
pains ! A certain quantity of light is grateful to the eye ;
— increase it, it becomes not indifferent, — though that
would be a less change, — but absolutely painful : and if the
i'Z ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT
eye be inflamed, even this small quantity of light, which
was agreeable before, and which seemed, therefore, to
admit of being very safely classed among the sources of
pleasure, is now converted into a source of agony. Since
it is impossible, therefore, to fix the limits of pain and plea-
sure ; and every affection, or state of mind, agreeable, dis-
agreeable, or indifferent, may, by a very trifling change of
circumstances, be converted into an opposite state ; it is
evident that any classification, founded on this vague and
transient distinction, must perplex and mislead us in our
attempts to systematize the almost infinite diversities of
thought and feeling, rather than give us any aid in the
arrangement.''*
Bearing some of the preceding remarks in memory, we
shall not be surprised that different classifieations of the
mental phaenomena have been suggested. Dr. Reid fol-
lows the mode which was regarded by him, at that time,
as the most common ; and traces all the mental phaeno-
mena to the powers of the understanding and the will,
" Under the will," he adds, "we comprehend our active
powers, and all that lead to action, or influence the mind
to act ; such as appetites, passions, affections, &C. The
understanding comprehends our contemplative powers ; by
which we perceive objects ; by which we conceive or re-
member them ; by which we analyze or compound them ;
and by which we judge and reason concerning them."t
He afterward enumerates the following as constituting the
only ones, which he thinks it necessary to explain :
1. The powers we have by means of our external senses.
2. Memory.
3. Conception.
4. The powers of resolving and analyzing complex ob-
jects, and compounding those that are more simple.
5. Judging.
G. Reasoning.
7. Taste.
8. Moral Perception.
9. Consciousness.
. * Vol. I. pp. 356, T. t \ol. I. p. ifo,
OF THE MENTAL PH-ENOMENA. 73
The foregoing enumeration, were it objectionable on no
other grounds, appears defective in point of precision.
What is meant, for instance, by the powers we have by
means of our external senses ? The phraseology is cer-
tainly very exceptionable. A mental power, in the sense
in which the words have been explained, and in which they
were used by Dr. Reid, may be dependent for its deve-
lopement upon an organ of sense; but the power resides
in the mind ; or rather it is the mind, — it is the constitu-
tion which its Creator has given to it. It is not received
by means of the senses ; and since the dissolution of the
material part of our frame is not necessarily connected
with the extinction of the mind, (unless indeed the doctrines
of the Materialists and the Phrenologists should prove to
be true.) it might remain after the body has crumbled into
dust.
Mr. Stewart follows the division of Dr. Reid, varying his
phraseology, and adding a third class : — of these, the
1st, Comprehends the intellectual powers ; the
2d, The active and moral powers ; and the
3d, Those which belong to man as the member of a
political body.
It would seem as if Dr. Reid himself was not satisfied
with that division of the powers of the mind, to which re-
ference has just been made ; though forgetting, partly at
least, that the great business of the mental philosopher is
to analyze and classify, he did not deem it necessary even
to think of replacing it by another. He says, " it may be
of use in order to a more methodical procedure;" — but
cold approbation to bestow upon a division of such anti-
quity, and adopted also by himself!
To the perfection of any arrangement of the mental
phsenomena, it is necessary that there be a strongly marked
line of demarcation between the respective classes under
which they are arranged ; and that all the phaenomena be
fairly included under one or another of them.
When we apply these rules to the division of the powers
of the mind, followed by Dr. Reid, we find that both are
transgressed. There is no broad line of distinction, he
10
74 ' ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT
himself being judge, between the powers of the under-
standing and those of the will. He expressly guards us,
indeed, against supposing, that in those operations which
are ascribed to the understanding, there is no exertion of
will or activity ; or that the understanding is not em-
ployed in the operations ascribed to the will. He tells
us, that so far is this from being the case, that there is no
operation of the understanding, wherein the mind is not
active in some degree ; and no act of will which is not
accompanied with some act of understanding.*
Why then, it may be asked, is not the old distinction
between the powers of the understanding, and those of the
will, abandoned, as a distinction without a difference ?
The fact is, that Dr. Reid is less self-inconsistent here than
his own words would seem to imply. Though the under-
standing is involved, in his opinion, in an act of will, and
the will involved in an operation of the understanding, they
are still, according to his doctrine, separately^ though
jointly exercised. The will which is active, directs the
understanding which is not active ; so that the mind, in
consequence of this direction, may be said to be active in
every such operation of the understanding. In cases in
which the understanding is not directed by the will, the
mind, on his principles, is not active in an operation of the
understanding. Now if in involuntary thinking and com-
paring, (and that we do involuntarily think and compare
is manifest,) the mind is not active, how can it be imagined
to be so, when the thinking is induced by the will ? Surely
the act of thinking must in this respect be the same, whe-
ther it be voluntary or involuntary ; the mind cannot well
be conceived to be active in the former, and passive in the
latter case. The activity of the mind must cease, accord-
ing to Dr. Reid's doctrine, even in cases where an opera-
tion of the understanding is directed by the will — cease
with the volition which impelled it ; so that in an opera-
tion of the understanding, the mind is, in all cases, passive.
In this way only, as it appears to me, can the consistency
of those who adopt Dr. Reid's classification be defended.
* Vol. I. pp. 98, 99.
OF THE MENTAL PHiENOMENA. 75
In thus vindicating their consistency, we however in-
volve them, perhaps, in greater difficulties. For if the ac-
tivity of the mind ceases with the volition, by which the
subsequent operation of the understanding was directed,
(and if it does not cease, the propriety of their division of
the mental phaenomena must be abandoned,) it follows that
the mind is inactive in perceiving, comparing, judging,
&c. ; and active, when it exists in any of the states de-
nominated appetites, passions, affections, &c. which are
said to belong to the active powers ; i. e. (for such is the
strange doctrine which seems to be necessarily involved
in this statement,) the mind is passive when it thinks, and
active when it feels ! And, if this be the case, why does
Dr. Reid talk of an act of the understanding — operations
of the understanding ? Might he not with equal propriety
talk of an act of sensation, on the ground that an indi-
vidual had resorted to voluntary and active means to se-
cure its existence ?
This doctrine of Dr. Reid and Mr. Stewart, of the
passivity of the mind in its intellectual states and exercises,
in contradistinction from its other states, is proved by Dr.
Brown, with resistless power of argument, to be un-
founded. " In whatever manner we define the term ac-
tive, is the mind," he asks, " more active when it merely
desires good and fears evil, — when it looks with esteem
on virtue, and with indignation, or disgust, or contempt
on vice, than when it pursues a continued train of reason-
ing, or fancy, or historical investigation V " Surely," he
adds, " when it records the warning lessons of the past,
or expatiates in fields which itself creates, of fairy beauty
or sublimity, or comprehends .whole moving worlds within
its glance, and calculates and measures infinitude; — the
mind is active, or there are no moments in which it
is so !"*
In further support of this general statement, the same
writer adds, " It is only when some intellectual energy
co-exists with desire, that the mind is said to be active,
even by those who are unaccustomed to metaphysical
* Vol. I. p. 359.
76 ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT
nomenclature. Passion is active only when, with intellec-
tual action, it compares means with ends, and deliberates,
resolves, and executes. Ambition acts by prompting to
the devising of means for gratifying its insatiable ap-
petite. As a passion, it is the mere desire of power or
glory. It is in the intellectual part of the process that
the mind is active ; for it is only intellectually, with the
exception of the production of muscular motion, that the
mind can act. To class the active powers, therefore, as
distinct from the intellectual, he adds, is to class them as
opposed to that without which, as active powers, they
cannot even exist."*
It must not be forgotten that the language of Dr.
Brown here regards the mental phaenomena, as they are
in themselves ; it does not consider them in relation to the
faculties which they may call into action. Whatever
sense be attached to the term active, the mind must be as
active in an operation of the understanding (to employ
the language commonly used on this subject) as in an
operation of the will. In fact, however, it will be found
difficult, if not impossible, to attach any definite ideas to
the terms activity and passivity, when employed in refer-
ence to different states of mind, as they are in themselves.
Much false conception, it is believed, or rather want of
conception, prevails upon this subject. The mind is
usually said to be passive in sensation, (though this is at
variance with Dr. Reid's classification,) and active in ad-
miring, loving, &G. We ask, what is meant by passivity
and activity here ? If it be replied, that we are passive
in sensation, because sensation is hot the result of volition
— that the mind cannot but feel, &c. ; we reply, that ad-
miring, loving, &c. are not invariably even indirectly the
result of volition, and that they are never directly so ;
that, in many cases at least, we might perhaps say in all
cases, the mind cannot but admire, love, &c. Where
then is the difference ? If it be alleged that admiring,
loving, &c. prompt to action, &c. ; we answer, so does
sensation. It is admitted that love to an object will pro-
f- Vol. I. pp. 359. 360.
OF THE MENTAL PHiENOMENA. 7 4
duce desire and exertion to secure it ; but, in the same
manner, the sensation of pain will awaken desire of reliei,
and lead to the adoption of measures to obtain it. Where
then is the difference ? If it be alleged that there is an
essential difference in the states of mind themselves, —
that the state, or affection designated by the word sensa-
tion, is in itself essentially passive, while the state or af-
fection designated by the term love, admiration, &c. is
essentially active ; — we answer, it may be so, for any thing
we know to the contrary, but that we do not understand
the assertion. It will be found impossible, we believe, to
attach any definite signification to the terms activity and
passivity, in their application to states or affections of the
mind, except this, that the passive states are produced,
and that the active states are the producers of others, or
of some change upon the body. And, if this be true,
there is not a single mental affection in which the mind
may not be both active and passive ; i. e. there is not a
single state which may not be both a cause and an effect.
Sensation is produced ; it does not arise spontaneously ;
it produces, also, some other state. Admiration, belief,
love, volition, &c. are produced ; they can no more arise
spontaneously, i, e, exist without a cause, than sensation,
and like it they produce some other state.
The term activity, then, has no meaning when applied
to any state of mind, but in reference to its results. But
though it should be admitted that all the mental phaeno-
mena may be active, inasmuch as they may become the
antecedents of certain changes, are not some of them, it
may be asked, more especially entitled to the name of
active powers, on the ground that to them must be ulti-
mately traced all the bustle, and vigour, and animation,
which we see around us ? This is denied by Dr. Brown.
*'In what sense," says he, " can it be said that joy and grief
lead to action, even indirectly, more than any other feel-
ings, or states, in which the mind is capable of existing ?
We may^ indeed, act when we are joyful or sorrowful, as
we may act when we perceive a present object, or remem-
ber the past ; but we may also remain at rest, and remain
78 ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT
equally at rest, in the one case as in the other. Our intel-
lectual energies, indeed, even in this sense, as indirectly
leading to action, are, in most cases, far more active than
sorrow, even in its very excesses of agony and despair ; and
in those cases in which sorrow does truly lead to action, as
when we strive to remedy the past, the mere regret that
constitutes the sorrow is not so closely connected with the
conduct which we pursue, as the intellectual states of
mind that intervened — the successive judgments by which
we have compared projects with projects, and chosen at
last the plan which, in relation to the object in view, has
seemed to us, upon the whole, the most expedient."*
It may, perhaps, be doubted whether Dr. Brown's rea-
soning does full justice to this argument in support of Dr.
Reid's classification. Conceding to Dr. Brown, that our
intellectual states of mind are the more immediate, or the
proximate cause of action, it might be contended, that
those affections which belong to the order of feeling, con-
stitute the radical and ultimate cause. Is it not apparent,
indeed, that what Dr. Reid classes with our active powers
— our appetites, passions, desires, &c., are the springs, so
to speak, which keep the whole machinery of the mind in
motion? There would be no intellectual activity were
there no curiosity, no desire, no susceptibility of pleasure,
or of pain. It may be true, that sorrow was not so directly
connected with the conduct which w^e pursued, as the
intellectual states that intervened ; but then, without this
sorrow, these intellectual states themselves would not have
intervened. There would have been no comparison of pro-
ject with project — no prosecution of the plan of which he
speaks. Were we possessed of nothing but intellect, life
would be a dull, monotonous, insipid, and wearisome calm.
In fact, it is the best argument in defence of this old divi-
sion of the mental powers, that those states of mind which
are classed with the active powers, are, in cases in which
action is the result, generally speaking, the radical and
ultimate cause of it.
•^ Vol. I. p. 361.
OP THE MENTAL PHENOMENA. 79
Still, however, this division is imperfect, because some
of the phaenomena which are classed with the active pow-
ers, and which must be classed with them, do not always
lead to action. They are accordingly destitute, in this
case, of the essential characteristic of their class.
The classification of Dr. Reid transgresses also the other
canon with reference to arrangement : it does not include
all the mental phaenomena. There are some states of mind
which cannot well be said to belong either to the under-
standing, or the will — to the intellectual, or active powers.
To which department shall we assign the feelings of acqui-
escence, satisfaction, and a variety of others of a similar
kind?
It may, also, be further objected against any such division
of the powers of the mind, that it is adapted to perpetuate
those false views of the nature of those powers, to which
such frequent reference has been made. "No sooner,"
says Dr. Brown, "were certain affections of the mind classed
together, as belonging to the will, and certain others as
belonging to the understanding, than the understanding
and the will ceased to be considered as the same indivi-
dual substance, and became immediately, as it were, two
opposite and contending powers in the empire of mind,
as distinct as any two sovereigns with their separate
nations under their control ; and it became an object of as
fierce contention to determine, whether certain affections
of the mind belonged to the understanding or the will, as in
the management of political affairs, to determine whether
a disputed province belonged to one potentate or to
another. Every new diversity of the faculties of the mind,
indeed, converted each faculty into a little independent
mind."*
Dissatisfied with all previous arrangements. Dr. Brown
presents us with one entirely original. The reader will
observe that it is in harmony with the leading principles of
his system, viz. that the business of the intellectual philo-
sopher is to analyze, and classify, the phaenomena of mind ;
* Vol. I. pp. 365, 366.
80
ANAfiVSIS AND ARRANGEMENT
which phaenomena are to be no otherwise regarded than
as the mind itself in various states of thought and feeling.
The following statement of the classes, and orders, in
which he arranges the mental phaenomena, is taken from
his Physiology :
" Of these states or affections of mind, when we consi-
der them in all their variety, there is one physical distinc-
tion that cannot fail to strike us. Some of them arise in
consequence of the operation of external things — the others
in consequence of mere previous feelings of the mind itself.
In this difference, then, of their antecedents {i, e, as being
external or internal,) we have a ground of primary division.
The phaenomena may be arranged as of two classes, — The
External affections of the mind ; The Internal af-
fections OF THE MIND.
" The former of these classes admits of very easy subdi-
vision, according to the bodily organs affected.
" The latter may be divided into two orders ; Intellectual
states of mind, and Emotions. These orders, which are
sufficiently distinct of themselves, exhaust, as it appears to
me, the whole phaenomena of the class."*
The following is a more full and methodical statement
of this arrangement :
DIVISION I.
THE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS OF THE MIND.
ORDER I.
THE LESS DEFINITE EXTERNAL AF'
FECTIONS.
Class I.
Appetites : such as Hunger, &c.
Class IL
Muscular Pains.
Class III.
Muscular Pleasures.
ORDER II.
THE MORE DEFINITE EXTERNAL AF-
FECTIONS,
Class I.
Sensations of Smell.
Class II.
Sensations of Taste.
Class III.
Sensations of Hearing.
Class IV.
Sensations of Touch.
Class V,
Sensations of Sight.
• P. 41—43.
OF THE MENTAL PH51N0MENA.
81
DIVISION II.
THE INTERNAL AFFECTIONS OF THE MIND.
ORDER I.
IKTELLICTUAL STATES OF UIKD.
Class I.
Simple Suggestions,
Suggestions of Resemblance,
Contrast, Contiguity.
Class II.
Relative Saggestions, or Feelings of
Relation.
Speciet 1.
Relations of Co-existence,
Position, Resemblance, Degree,
Proportion, Comprehensiveness.
Species 2.
Relations of Succession.
ORDER II.
EMOTIONS ; SUCH AS LOVE, &C.
Class I.
Immediate Emotions.
Class II.
Retrospective Emotions.
Species I.
Retrospective Emotions, having re la-
tion to others.
Species 2.
Retrospective Emotions, having refer-
ence to ourselves.
Class UI.
Prospective Emotions.
With 'reference to this classification of the mental phae-
nomena, I perfectly concur in opinion with the biographer
of Dr. Brown, that it is " original, simple, distinct, and
complete. The division into external and internal affec-
tions is natural and obvious. Not less so is the distinction
he makes with reference to the internal affections ; for
intellectual states and emotions are felt by us as .gene-
rically different, and must always thus be felt by us." The
arrangement is also, in its leading particulars, complete ;
for to know all our sensitive states or affections — all our
intellectual states — and all our emotions, is " to know all
the states of phaenomena of the mind." In the minor sub-
divisions Dr. Brown's classification may be susceptible of
improvement ; but the leading divisions seem so much in
accordance to nature, that with the Rev. Mr. Welsh, I
cannot anticipate the time when another shall be suggested
so worthy of adoption.
n
82 ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT
I would not, however, be understood as expressing lull .
approbation of the phraseology of the first general division,
viZi "the external affections of the mind." I am well
aware that the concluding words will sufficiently indicate,
to those who are accustomed to think on such subjects,
that the adjective " external," is merely intended to sug-
gest, that the cause of these affections is out of the mind.
It may, however, be misunderstood. It may lead some to
imagine, that there are affections which are not in the
mind — that sensation is in the organ, &c. ; and on that
account, I am disposed to regret that some other mode of
designation was not employed by this writer ; yet as the
matter is of subordinate importance — and as an uniform
nomenclature, in intellectual science, as well as in physical,
is very desirable, it is not my intention to deviate from it
in the subsequent discussions.
DIVISION I.
INCLUDING THE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS OF THE MIND.
This division of the mental phaenomena comprehends,
it must be recollected, all those affections of mind which
are immediately subsequent upon certain states of the
body, and particularly of what are called the organs of
sense, and which are never found but in connexion with
those states of the body to which we have referred. Such
is the constitution of the mind, that when certain states of
the material fabric, with which it is connected, exist, cer-
tain affections of mind are experienced ; and to these states
of mind we give the name of external affections, because
the cause of their existence is something ad extra.
Of external affections there are, according to Dr. Brown's
arrangement, which we propose to follow, two orders ; viz.
Order I.
INCLUDING THE LESS DEFINITE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS.
This order of the external affections comprehends all
those mental affections which result from certain states of
OP THE MENTAL PHjENOMENA. O.^
any part of the material fabric, with the exception of tfie
organs of sense. By the aid of this exception, we are
enabled to distinguish them from sensations, properly so
called, which as we shall shortly See, are states or mind ori-
ginated by impressions upon the organs of sense. Dr.
Brown, indeed, says, that tlie less definite external affec-
tions are sensations^ as well as the more definite affections
gf this division, because they arise from a certain state of
the body. In using this language, however, he speaks in-
cautiously. It is at variance with his own statements. An
organ of sense is the external termination of a nerve which
proceeds fi-om the brain, and is, indeed, an elongation of it.
A sensation, as the word imports, is a mental affection
arising from an affection of an organ of sense. A state
of mind originated by an affection of any part of the body,
which does not constitute an organ of sense, cannot then
be a sensation ; though, as its cause is ad extra, it must be
an external affection of mind. In this ojder of our feelings
are to be classed,
1. Our various appetites, such as hijinger, thirst, (fcc. ; or
rather, that '< elementary uneasiness,'* which constitutes a
part of them ; for it must surely be apparent that these
appetites are complex feelings ; that the appetite of hunger,
for instance, consists of an uneasy feeling, and a desire to
obtain relief from it. The elementary uneasiness is, doubt-
less, the result of a certain state of the body ; and the
accompanying desire of relief arises, by a law of the mind,
which would certainly originate a similar feeling in any
other case of want or suffering. There is nothing pecu-
liar in the pain which constitutes one element of our
appetites ; there is nothing peculiar in the desire which con-
stitutes the other. Why then, should the pain and desire
co-existing, be thought to require a particular designation,
and to constitute what is called a power of mind in .this
case, and not in others ? A man falls into a pit ; his situ-
ation is painful ; it originates the desire of relief. Why
should we not say he has the appetite of ascending, as well
as that we have the appetite of hunger ? It will be replied,
perhaps, that the complex feeling, denominated hunger,
84 ORDER I.
recurs at regular intervals, and that, on this account, it
ought to be regarded as being specifically distinct from
any accidental case, in which there is an union of pain and
desire. But what is the reason of this regular recurrence
of the appetite ? Is it not that God has so formed the body*
that it is, at these intervals, in that state which is necessary
to the existence of the elementary uneasiness involved in
appetite ? This we suppose will be admitted. And should
it be so,. how can it be thought that that circumstance can
impress a peculiar character upon the mental feeling itself?
Suppose the individual, referred to a short time ago, should
fall into the pit at regular intervals ; that the result should
invariably be bodily pain, and desire of relief; would
the circumstance of the accident happening habitually,
and regularly, convert this complex mental feeling into an
appetite ? This will not be pretended. And yet the reply
of our opponents ought to be in the affirmative.
Dr. Reid has admitted the correctness of the preceding
analysis of appetite. " Every appetite," he says, " is ac-
companied with an uneasy sensation proper to it ; in the
appetite of hunger, for instance, there are two ingredients
— an uneasy sensation, and a desire to eat, which arise
and perish together." Surely, then, as there is nothing
peculiar either in the pain or the desire, the former should
be classed with our other sensations^ (L e, on his princi-
ples,) and the latter with our other desires. Their habi-
tual union produces no change in their nature, and cannot
entitle the complex feeling to be considered as the result
of a distinct and original power of the mind — the light in
which it is represented by Dr. Reid.
The circumstance which has operated, more than any
other, to prevent the reception of the foregoing state-
ments, is, that the desire is invariably and immediately
successive to the uneasiness. We are apj, accordingly, to
conceive of them as constituting but one feeling, or affec-
tion of mind ; and this tendency is strengthened by the fact
of their having received but one name. " In themselves
they are, however, as different," says Dr. Brown, " as if no
such succession took place ; as different as the pleasure of
OF THE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 85
music is from the mere desire of hearing it again ; or as
the p^in of excessive heat, in burning, from the subse-
quent desire of coolness. There is, therefore, no reason
that we should consider the elementary pain itself as dif-
ferent in kind from all our other pains ; it is evidently a
sensation, as much as any other internal bodily pain that
we feel ; a state or affection of the mind, arising immedi-
ately and solely from a state or affection of thfe body,
which is the only definition that can be given of a sensa-
tion."*
. It is not wished to discontinue the use of the word
appetite. As the feelings which the term denotes recur at
regular intervals, and are distinguished by that circum-
stance from other co-existing pains and desires, it is con-
venient to have a distinct name by which to designate
them ; but we must guard against supposing that the
term denotes an original power of. mind.
I must not pass from this subject without noticiing the
vague statements of Dr. Rjeid with regard to our appe-
tites. " Every appetite," he says, " is accompanied with
an uneasy sensation proper to it," i, e. the uneasy sensa-
tion is not ' the appetite ; for the companion of a thing
Cannot be the thing itself. He immediately adds, how-
ever, " If we attend to the appetite of hunger, we shall
find in it two ingredients, an uneasy sensation, and a de-
sire to eat;" i. e. the uneasy sensation is the appetite, or
a constituent part of it, and not its companion merely.
An appetite then consists of two parts. And yet, he im-
mediately adds, " that appetite in an infant is only one of
these parts ;" for in them, he says, " there is no desire."
And he concludes the whole with the words, " That the
appetite of hunger includes the two ingredients I have
menUoned, will not, I apprehend, be questioned!'''' though
he had himself denied it but the moment before !t
Mr. Stewart, in treating of appetites, says, " they take
their rise from the body ; they are occasional ; they are
accompanied with an uneasy sensation, &c." He does
* Vidt p. 83. t Vol. III. pp. 145, 146.
86 .ORDER I.
not directly state what they are ; but his language necessa-
rily implies, that the uneasy sensation is not one of their
ingredients. It would seem as if he considered the desire,
of which Dr. Reid speaks, as constituting exclusively the
appetite, — a sentiment which involves, unless there be a
difference of judgment between him and Dr. Reid on the
case of infants, the opinion, that infants are destitute of
appetite altogether.*
I have no doubt that the want of precision, which the
statements of these writers occasionally display, results
from their opinion of the comparative unimportance of
mental analysis. Having specified several benevolent
affections, Mr. Stewart says, " he does not state them as
ultimate facts in our constitution — that several may be
analyzed into the same general principles — but that this
(notwithstanding the stress which has been sometimes
laid upon it) is chiefly a.question of arrangement,'^''] This
language argues, it is humbly conceived, an erroneous
conception of the object of intellectual science. In phy-
sical science " we endeavour to resolve the particular
properties of bodies into the general qualities of matter."
In like manner, we should aim, in intellectual science, to
resolve particular states or affections of mind, into those
'' simple and primitive laws, by which term we denote the
most general circumstances in which the phaenomena are
felt by us to agree." In other words, we should endea-
vour to discover what are " ultimate facts," as Mr. Stew-
wart calls them, in the mental constitution ; what are the
" ingredients," if we may use that language, of indivi-
dual states of mind ; what portions of these ingredients
are common to other states, and what are peculiar to the
individuals ; that we may thus arrive at the knowledge of
the elements of Mind, as the chemist aims to discover the
elements of the bodies by which he is surrounded in the
world of matter. Mental science will remain compara-
tively uninteresting and profitless, till more is attempted
generally in the way of analysis, — a field of investigation,
* r«Vf« Outlines, pp. 82, 83. t Ibid. p. 99.
OF THE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 87
into which, k is hoped, the splendid success of Dr. Brown
will induce many to enter. What can be more barren
than the statements of Mr. Stewart himself on the subject
of appetite ? — a barrenness which is solely to be ascribed
to the absence of all attempt to analyze. Appetites, he
tells us, rise from the body — are occasional — are accom-
panied with an uneasy sensation — are three in number,
&c. — are not selfish — are both natural and acquired !
This is actually the amount of Mr. Stewart's section on
this subject. It comprises all that can be said upon it, by
any one who writes upon Mr. Stewart's principles, t. e, it
tells us what we, and all men, most perfectly know. How
different the statements even of Dr. Reid, and especially
of Dr. Brown ! What we call an appetite is a complex
feeling ; but its particular " ingredients," or parts, resolve
themselves into the general properties of Mind, as the
weight of gold resolves itself into the general quality of
gravity. An appetite may be analyzed mto an uneasy
feeling, and a desire to be delivered from it ; but there is
nothing peculiar either in the pain or the desire. An ap-
petite is not then an element — not a simple and original
power of the mind — and has no title to be ranked amongst
the number of its distinct susceptibilities.
The wisdom and goodness of the Great Author of our
frame, are especially apparent in the provision he has made
for*the regular recurrence of that complex state of mind
10 which we give the name of appetite. We can illus-
trate this statement in reference to one of them only.
The waste of strength, to which the animal frame is ne-
cessarily exposed, can only be repaired by a regular supply
of nourishment adapted to its state and wants. Some
means must, accordingly, be resorted to by the Creator, to
secure the taking of this nourishment. Now, if the appe-
tites of hunger and of thirst did not exist, what security
could we possess that the fruits of his bounty would not
be neglected ? What rule should we have to direct us
what quantity of food to take, and how frequently ?
'•Though a man knew," says Dr. Reid, "that his life
must be supported by eating, reason could not direct
88 ORDER 1. •
him when to eat^ or what ; how much, or- how ot'teri.
In all these things, appetite is a much better guide than
reason." Or, if it be admitted that experience might, in
process of time, furnish a rule, would it not, in all probabi-
lity, without the spur and impulse of appetite, be in dan-
ger of constant violation? " Were reason only to direct us
in this matter, its calmer voice would often be drowned in
the hurry of business, or the charms of amusement. But the
voice of appetite rises gradually, and at last becomes loud
enough to call off our attention from any other employ-
ment."* "If indeed," adds Dr. Brown, "the necessary
supply were long neglected, the morbid state of the body
which would ensue, though no pain of actual hunger were
to be felt, would convince, at last, the sufferer of his folly.
But the providence of our gracious Creator has not trusted
the existence of man to the dangerous admonition of so
rough a monitor, which might, perhaps, bring his folly be-
fore him, only when it was too late to he wise. The pain of
hunger — that short disease, which it is in our power so
speedily to cure, prevents diseases that more truly deserve
the name."t
But eating is not the mere removal of pain or " disease ;"
it is the source of pleasure : a circumstance which has
been most properly referred to by Arch-deacon Paley, as
an unequivocal manifestation of the goodness of God.
"Assuming," says this luminous writer, "the necessity of
food for the support of animal life, it is necessary that the
animal be provided with the organs fitted for the procuring,
receiving, and digesting of its prey. It may be necessary
also that the animal be impelled by its sensations to exert
its. organs. But the pain of hunger would do all this.
Why add pleasure to the act of eating, sweetness and
relish to food ? Why a new and appropriate sense for
the perception of pleasure ? Why should the juice of a
peach, applied to the palate, affect the part so differently
from what it does when rubbed upon the palm of the
hand ? This is a constitution which, as it appears to me.
. ^ Ftrfe Vol. III. p. 147. Vol.1, p. 394.
OP THE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 89
call be resolved into nothing but the pure benevolence of
the Creator. Eating is necessary ; but the pleasure at-
tending it is not necessary ; it is superadded to what is
strictly essential, and can only have flowed from the good-
ness of God."*
Should it be objected that this accomp anying pleasure
exposes us to the danger of excess, it may be replied,
that the Creator has provided against this, by rendering it
painful to continue the supply of food, in any great pro-
portion, after the demands of nature have been adequately
satisfied. No better barrier of a moral nature (and moral
agents must be ruled by moral means) could have been
set up ; and, in most cases, it is sufficiently strong :so
that to adopt the beautiful illustration of Dr. Brown,
" Between satiety on the one hand, and want on the other,
the stream of health flows tranquilly along, which, but for
these boundaries, would speedily waste itself and disap-
pear : as the most magnificent river, which, if dispersed
over a boundless plain, would flow almost into nothing,
owes its abundance and majestic beauty to the very banks
which seem to confine its waters within too narrow a
channel."!
In the order of less definite external aflections, Dr. Brown
classes,
2dly, Those affections of mind which result from certain
conditions of any of the muscles of the body : for though
we find it difliicult to ascribe them to any local organ ( on
which account they ought not to be called sensations,)| yet
they require for their immediate antecedents certain states
of some part or parts of the animal frame, and there-
fore are external affections, ?*. e. states of mind pro-
duced by certain states of the body. To this class belong
Muscular pleasures. In early life^ the constant and ra-
pid action of the muscles is a source of high gratification ;
it forms, indeed, a chief part of the delight which is experi-
enced by the young of all species of living beings. "They
seem to me," says Paley, " to receive pleasure simply from
'P Vide Nat. Theol. pp.518, 519. t Page 394. % Vide p. a3.
12
90 ORDER II.
the exercise of tlieir limbs, and bodily faculties, without
reference to any end to be attained, or any me to be
answered by the exertion."* In middle age, it is from less
violent muscular action that pleasure can be derived ; and
in advanced life, repose becomes to us, bending under the
weight of years, what alacrity and action are to us in child,
hood.
Muscular pains ^ also, belong to this class. The motion
of any limb, to which the action of many muscles is neces-
sary, cannot be continued for a considerable length of time
without great uneasiness : and few feelings are more
distressing than that which is occasioned by muscular re-
laxation, after the parts had been long kept in a s tate of
tension. The acute pain, accompanying our return to an
upright position, after long-continued stooping, has been
experienced by all.
To the same class, also. Dr. Brown refers the various
organic feelings which constitute the animal pleasure of
good health, when every corporeal function is exercised in
just degree. " This pleasure," he justly observes, " is cer-
tainly more, even at all times, than mere freedom from
pain, though it is experienced with the greatest zest, after
the habit of enjoyment has been long broken by disease."
Order II.
OP THE EXTERNAL AFPECTIONS, COMPRISING OUR SENSATIONS.
It is impossible to suggest a better definition of the
word Sensations, than that which is given us by Dr.
Brown. " Sensations," says he, " are those states of mind,
however various they may be, which immediately succeed
the changes of state produced in any of our organs of sense,
by the presence of external objects." The definition
takes it for granted, it will be observed, that we have a
body, and bodily organs, and that there are external objects
to act upon thom ; i, e. it takes for granted the existence of
an external world. In what manner our knowledge and
belief of something external to our own minds arise, will
■■■ Nat. TheoL pp. 492, 3.
ALL SENSATION IN THE MIND. 91
be shown afterward. It. is merely necessary now to
observe that the term sensation includes only that class of
our feelings which are conceived by us to result from the
influence of something ad extra.
Assuming, then, as we do for the present, the existence
of the body, and the organs of sense, the best mode of
classifying our sensations is, to arrange those together
which are received through the medium of the same or-
gan ; for though there may, perhaps, be sensations of the
same sense, which differ from each other as widely as
others which are received through different channels, " if
we quit," as Dr. Brown says, " that obvious line of dis-
tinction, which the difference of organs affords, we shall
not find it easy to define them by other lines as precise."
It will, therefore, be necessary to consider separately
the sensations of Smell, Taste, Hearing, Touch, and
Sight : before we proceed to do this, however, it will be
expedient to lay before the reader some general remarks
with reference to the nature and process of Sensation.
I. Our first observation then is, that all sensation is in
the mind. Were not this the case, it would not be the
object of intellectual science ; it is, accordingly, affirmed
in the definition adopted from Dr. Brown, that sensations
are those states of mind^ <fec. &.c. This remark is op-
posed, in the
First place^ to the sentiments of those who imagine,
or appear to imagine, that sensation is in the organ of
sense. The common arguments by which the imma-
teriality of the mind is proved, render it manifest, that
feeling cannot reside in the organ which is material. If
the contrary were the case, a sensation must necessarily
be divisible, since the organ is so ; but to conceive of the
half or the quarter of a sensation, is a manifest absurdity.
The power of thinking is universally admitted (always
excepting the Materialists) to reside in the mind ; while
(as it is conceived by some (the susceptibility of sensa-
tion may have its seat in the body. There is, however,'
no difference in this respect. It is as easy to conceive
that matter can think, as that it can feel. In either case
92 ALL SENSATION
the notion is absurd. The organs of sense are, indeed,
necessary to sensation. God has so formed the mind,
that it never can exist in any of those states to which we
give the general name of sensation, except when what we
call an impression is made upon one or other of those
organs ; but the feeling itself can have its seat nowhere
but in mind.
The general statement now made is very ably illustrated
by Dr. Reid. He, indeed, uses the term Perception ; but
there is no difference in this respect between perception
and sensation. " We must not confound," says he, " the
organs of perception with the being that perceives."—
" The eye is not that which sees, it is only the organ by
which we see. The ear is not that which hears, but the
organ by which we hear ; and so of the rest." — " A man
cannot see the satellites of Jupiter, but by a telescope.
Does he conclude from this, that it is the telescope that
sees those stars ? By no means ; such a conclusion would
be absurd. It is no less absurd to conclude, that it is the
eye that sees, or the ear that hears. The telescope is an
artificial organ of sight, but it sees not. The eye is a
natural organ of sight, by which we see ; but the natural
organ sees as little as the artificial."*
The sentiment thus opposed by Dr. Reid, has been
proved to be inconsistent with the immateriality of the
mind ; it is not less at variance, as he proceeds to show,
with its identity. If it be the eye that sees, the ear that
hears, and so on, and not the mind, the thinking principle
is not one but many. " When I say, I see, I hear, I feel,
I remember," says Dr. Reid, " this implies that it is one
and the same self that performs all these operations.
And as it would be absurd to say that my memory, another
man's imagination, and a third man's reason, may make
one individual intelligent being, it would be equally absurd
to say, that one piece of matter seeing, another hearing,
and a third feeling, may make one and the same per-
cipient being."!
'^ Vide Vol. I. p. 115. t Vol. I. p. 116.
IS IN THE MIND. 1)3
But is not this doctrine, it will be objected, in direct
opposition to the common sense of men ? Have we not
the evidence of consciousness that sensation is in the or-
gan, and not in the mind ? Is not the pain of a wound
felt to be in the limb which is injured ? so, that, unless
the limb be the seat of the mind, which no one imagines,
this doctrine of Reid cannot be true.
To this objection, which I have stated as strongly as
possible, it has been usual to reply, in substance at least,
" that we do not really feel the pain to be in the organ ;
that our knowledge of the seat of a wound is not gained
from the mere sensation, since children cannot distinguish
the precise place of their bodies which is affected by the
touch of any external object ; nay, that even an adult,
pricked with a pin on any part of his body, which he has
seldom handled, and never seen, will not readily put his
finger upon the wound, nor even at first come very near
to it ; that, consequently, our knowledge of the locality
of any impression made upon the body, is the mere re-
sult of experience ; so that we can no more be said to
feel the place of a wound, than to hear the distance, or
nearness, or direction of a sound ; knowledge which
none but the vulgar now conceive of as being derived
from any source but experience." The sentiments just
expressed have long been held by the most judicious me-
taphysicians. Dr. Brown maintains, that the painful sen-
sations resulting from puncture, and laceration, would not
even have given us the knowledge of our corporeal frame,
far less the knowledge of the particular part affected ;
that they are to be regarded, in this point of view, only
as equivalent to our sensations of heat and cold, which,
without the experience of other sensations, would no
more have been conceived to arise directly from a corpo-
real cause, than our feelings of joy or sorrow.*
But though the objector should concede that originally,
or antecedently to experience, the sensation produced by
puncture would not be referred to the particular part af-
fected, he might still urge, that it is so referred at present,
^ Vol. I. -p. 487.
94 ALL SENSATION
— that at any rate now the pain appears to be in the limb,
or rather, that it is the limb which appears to be the sub-
ject of the pain ; so that, unless consciousness deceive
us, the sensation is not in the mind. I answer, that the
seat of the sensation must surely be now what it always
has been. It is easy to conceive that experience may
have added something to the original feeling, but not that
it has transferred the sensation from the mind, which was
its primitive seat, to the limb, which was confessedly not
so. Consciousness only tells us what is in the mind —
what we feel, not what is the cause of our feelings. Now
it is not denied that, in adult age at least, we feel as if
the pain were in the limb. It is not the province of con-
sciousness to inform us where the pain is, but where it
appears to us to be. And consciousness cannot be said
to deceive us, unless our actual feelings, and its testimony
concerning them, should be at variance, which, when the
previous statements are recollected, will be immediately
seen to be absurd and impossible. Can it be truly said
that consciousness deceives us, when, by the art of the
ventriloquist, the sound, which really proceeds from his
mouth, is felt by us as if it issued from our own pocket,
— or when, after the amputation of a limb, we feel as if
we experienced pain in the extirpated member? Surely
not ; because we do actually feel, and do not merely
imagine that we feel, as if that were the case ; and con-
sciousness only informs us, as we have said, of our feel-
ings. It may be observed by the way, that the latter of
the cases just adduced, proves, beyond all possibility of
doubt, that the actual seat of a sensation may not be
where it appears to our feelings to be ; and, therefore,
though we should concede, which however we do not,
that the pain of a puncture, or laceration, is always felt
at the exact spot at which the injury is sustained, it would
not follow that its actual seat is not the mind.
Our knowledge of the part affected is derived from expe-
rience, in the same way as we gain our information of the
distance of a visual, and the direction of a sonorous, object.
The mental feeling was originally different, when different
IS IM THE MIND. 95
parts of the body are affected. The knowledge of this dif-
ference is speedily gained ; and when we say the pain is in
the hand or the foot, we do no more in fact than express a
rapid judgment, the result of experience, that the sensation
of which we speak proceeds from an injury sustained in one
or other of those members. Still the sensation is in the
mind, and can be nowhere else : and the provision which
the Creator has made, to secure the certain existence of
this judgment, displays his goodness. Did not that provi-
sion exist, we should be exposed to the greatest danger.
In some cases, a whole limb might be consumed, ere we
discovered the external cause of the agony we endured.
God has, therefore, so constituted the mind, that the feeling
is originally different when the parts of the body which
sustain the injury are different ; so that the pain appears to
us as if it were in the hand, or the toe, which, in regard to
its practical use, is the same thing precisely as if it were
actually there.
Secondly^ I oppose the observation that all sensation is
in the mind, to those who refer it to what they call the ani-
mal, in contradistinction from the rational, soul. It is not
an unusual opinion that there are three distinct principles
in man — the material principle, which connects him with
the inanimate world, the animal principle, which is com-
mon to him with the brutes, — and the immaterial or spiri-
tual principle, which, being of a higher order, allies him to
the Deity. It is to the second of these principles, which is
not regarded as immaterial, that sensation is ascribed by
those who maintain the opinion to which reference is now
made ; so that sensation is not in the mind, properly so
called, but in that part of our nature which supports the
functions of animal life.
It appears to me that true philosophy knows nothing of
this supposed intermediate principle, — a principle which is
neither matter nor mind, but an unnatural and monstrous
mixture of both. It will be found in vain to plead, in sup-
port of its existence, the language of Scripture, because the
phraseology of the apostle, "body, soul, and spirit," was
employed, in consequence of its accordance with the reign-
ing philosophy ; and, if it be regarded as authority on this
96 SENSATION THE RESULT OF A
point, we must, for a similar reason, discard the Newtonian
system of astronomy, and adopt the clumsy hypothesis of
the Ptolemaics, that the sun revolves round this little speck
of earth. There are, it is imagined, only two principles in
our nature — matter and mind : the latter being the seat of
all sensation and thought ; and the former, as essentially
incapable of either, as the earth on which we tread. The
addition of what is called a principle of animal life, to ex-
plain the vital phaenomena, is, I apprehend, the introduc-
tion of a cause to account for certain appearances, which
appearances are as inexplicable, after the introduction
of the supposed cause, as they were before it. To me
it has long appeared that the only conceivable principle of
animal life, is the mysterious union of mind, with a certain
organized bodily frame. Life commences with the forma-
tion of this union ; it is extinguished on its dissolution. It
certainly follows, from this statement, that brute animals,
as well as men, possess mind, or an immaterial principle ;
a sentiment which cannot be rejected without embracing
the dogmas of materialism. It is true that the mind of
irrational creatures is of a nature inferior to that of man ;
and not destined, like the latter, to immortality. But that
brutes possess mind, and that mind is the seat of sensation,
is as true of them, as it is of man himself.
II. The second general observation concerning sensa-
tion is, that the term is restricted in its application to those
states of mind which directly result from certain changes
in the organs of sense, or in its widest range, to such as are
the immediate result of some bodily change. To express
the same sentiment in different wofds, sensations are those
states of mind which require, for their immediate antecedent,
some external or material cause. The mind is susceptible
of innumerable feelings which are not sensations, because
their immediate antecedents are certain previous states of
the mind itself. Hence it is unphilosophical to talk of the
sensations of joy or sorrow, though of these feelings we
have a very distinct consciousness.
There is a want of precision, in the manner in which
this term is sometimes employed, that tends to confound
things which essentially differ from each other. Dr. Reid
CHANGE OF ORGANIC STATE. 97
sometimes uses it to denote all the varieties of our feelings,
without any reference to their causes, as either external or
internal. " Although," says he, " the present subject leads
us to consider only the sensations which we have by means
of our external senses,"* &c. — language which implies that
there may be sensations which are not by means of the
external senses. And again, " Every thing we call happi*
ness, pleasure^ or, enjoyment, on the one hand, and on the
other, every thing we call misery, pain or uneasiness, is
sensation or feeling."! From these examples, especially
the |last, it is manifest that Dr. Reid did not sufficiently
discriminate the class of feelings which the term properly
designates ; for " it is not applicable to all the varieties of
our consciousness," says Dr. Brown, "but to those particu-
lar varieties which are immediately successive to certain
affections of our organs of sense. Feeling is a more com-
prehensive word; we are said to feel indignation, love, sur-
prise, as readily as we are said to feel the warmth of a fire,
or the coldness of snow ;" the latter feelings only, how-
ever, are sensations.^
It must be particularly observed, as it is stated in the
definition given a short time ago, that sensations are those
states of mind which imntpdintply succeed certain changes
in the bodily organs. It very frequently happens that a
long train of rapidly successive feelings is awakened by a
single impression upon an organ of sense. It is, however,
only to the first in the series, to that which is directly con-
sequent upon the bodily affection, that the term sensation
is properly applied^
It is not possible, by any effort, to bring the mind into
that state which is produced by any external object upon
an organ of sense. The remembrance or the conception
of a sensation, is a totally different state of mind from the
sensation itself. It is uniformly, in our waking hours at
least, of a less powerful and stimulating nature. I say in
our waking hours, because, if the consciousness of others
resembles my own at least, we sometimes have, during
* Vol. I. p. 324. + Vidt p. 326. % P. 399.
13
98 INCLUDES ALL SUCH PEELINGS.
sleep, sensations (if we may so call them) of sight and
touch as vivid as any that occur to us while awake. The
phaenomena of sleep, however, involved, as they must be
admitted to be, in so much perplexity, are not to be taken
into the account here.
III. The next general observation in reference to sensa-
tion is, that we must be careful not to regard the term as
restricted, in its application, to those states of mind which
are decidedly pleasing or painful in their nature. There
is some danger that a young irtquirer may do this. A sen-
sation, he is apt to imagine, is something that is very dis-
tinctly felt ; and no sensation can be thus felt which is, in
its own nature, indifferent. The term, however, should be
regarded as comprehending every mental affection that is
the immediate consequent of an impression upon any organ
of sense ; and it is the opinion of all our most enlightened
metaphysicians, (an opinion indeed which is all but self-
evident,) that by far the greater number of our sensations
are of a kind which cannot be termed either agreeable or
disagreeable. There is no object of sense which does not,
when it comes in contact with its respective organ, produce
a sensation. " I apprehend," says Dr. Reid, " that besides
the sensations which are either agreeable or disagreeable,
there is still a greater number that are indifferent. To
these we give so little attention that they have no name,
and are immediately forgot, as if they had never been ; and
it requires attention to the operations of our minds, to be
convinced of their existence. For this end we may observe
that to a good ear, every human voice is distinguishable
from all others. Some voices are pleasant, some disagree-
able ; but the far greater part can neither be said to be one
or the other. The same thing may be said of other sounds,
and no less of tastes, smells, and colours ; and if we consi-
der that our senses are in continual exercise while we are
awake, that some sensation attends every object they pre-
sent to us, and that familiar objects seldom raise any emo-
tion pleasurable or painful, — we shall see reason, besides
the agreeable and disagreeable, to admit a third class of
sensations, that may be called indifferent."*
* Fide Essay II. chap. xvi. p. 327.
ORGANIC CHANGE UNKNOWN. 99
■-«-
Of what use then, it may be asked, is this large class of
indifferent sensations? The question, we answer, can only
involve difficulty in the case of those who forget that a feel-
ing, or a susceptibility of feeling, may possess the highest
value, and prove ultimately the spring of exalted enjoyment,
which is not itself attended with delight. " If a man had
no ear to receive pleasure from the harmony or melody of
sounds, he would still find the sense of hearing of great
utility. Though sounds gave him neither pleasure nor
pain of themselves, they would give him much useful in-
formation." " Think of the innumerable sensations pro-
duced by the words and letters of a volume lying open be-
fore us. They are indifferent in themselves, yet are they
more precious, even in relation to happiness itself, from
the intellectual and moral benefit they are the means of
imparting, than other sensations of which it is the very
essence to be delightful."
IV. Another important general remark in reference to
sensation is, that we are utterly ignorant of the nature of
that change, in the bodily organ, which has been affirmed
to be essential to sensation. The affection of the sentient
mind, is the result of the presence of an external object, or
rather of a certain state of the organ, which is produced by
the presence and influence of the object ; for that when
rays of light, for instance, come in contact with the optic
nerve, they effect some change in its state, before sensa-
tion can exist in the mind, there can be no doubt, though
what this change is we are unable even to conjecture.
Were there any encouragement to make an atttempt to
ascertain its nature, it would be the province of the anato-
mist to do it ; but there is none. Dr. Reid expressly states
that we know nothing of it ; and he gives the name of im-
pression to this change in the organ, in preference to seve-
ral others to which he refers, on the ground that it better
comports with our ignorance. Even this term, however,
is not unexceptionable. It conveys, as Dr. Brown justly
observes, too much of the notion of a peculiar well-known
species of action ; that which consists in producing an
image of the external object upon the organ, — a notion
100 CONKEXION BETWEEN THE ORGAN
which has had a most pernicious effect in the theory of per-
ception. All we know upon the subject is, that some change
is^produced in the state of the organ ; and, therefore, " a
phrase which expresses the least possible knowledge,
must be allowed to be the best suited to human igno-
rance." Nothing can be safely affirmed, but that sensa-
tion is preceded by a variation of organic state.
V. The next important general observation in reference
to sensation is, that we know nothing of the nature of the
connexion between external objects, or the organs of sense,
and the percipient mind. It is in all cases of vast impor-
tance to see clearly the limits within which our path is
circumscribed. Here our course is bounded by the fact
itself. We state the entire amount of our information
when we say, that if the bodily organ exist in a particular
state (of the nature of which we are ignorant,) the mental
affection immediately follows. It is true that attempts
have been made to trace the progress of the impression, as
it is called, upon the organ, from the extremity of the nerve,
to the mind, supposed to reside in the brain. But even if
there be any such progress, it is manifestly a meterial or
bodily change, whose course we attempt to mark ; the very
last of the series of changes, is a material change — an
alteration of the central mass of nervous matter called the
brain. So that if the whole of the conceived process were
before us, we should be left us much in the dark as ever.
The grand question would remain to be solved, " How does
it happen that sensation should be the immediate result of
a certain state of the brain ?"
The intellectual philosopher might, we conceive, refuse
to concern himself about the corporeal part of the process
in sensation— if there be such a process — on the ground
that it does not belong to his science. It may not, how-
ever, be useless to Jay the substance of what has been stated
upon this subject before the reader.
The brain, we are told — for it seems necessary to give
here some account of that organ — is of a half fibrous, but
soft and pulpy texture, consisting of many convolutions,
adapted perhaps to answer particular purposes in the eco-
AND THE MIND UNKNOWN. 1(|||.
Bomy of life, though it is impossible for us to ascertain
what those purposes are. From the brain, or the spinal
marrow, which is an elongation of the brain, proceed a
vast number of fine cords, called nerves, which make their
way to all parts of the body, separating into smaller
branches as they proceed, until they become invisible to
the naked eye. They are, it should be especially observed,
of the same substance with the brain itself, " and in perfect
continuity with that substance, forming, therefore, with it
what may be considered as one mass, as much as the whole
brain itself may be considered as one mass." The extre-
mities of these nerves constitute what we call organs of
sense, with which the causes of sensation come in contact ;
and all, in fact, which is certainly known concerning sen-
sation is, that when the organ, the nerve, and the brain are
in a sound state, or not materially diseased, a change of
state in the organ, produced by some external cause, is fol-
lowed by that mental feeling to which we give the name
of sensation.
With reference to the corporeal process just alluded to,
it is generally thought that this change in the state of the
organ, is succeeded by some change in the state of the
nerve, and this again by some change in the state of the
brain, previous to actual sensation. " There is sufficient
reason to conclude," says Dr. Reid, " that the object pro-
duces some change in the organ (rather in its state ;) that
the organ produces some change upon the nerve ; and that
the nerve produces some change upon the brain.'' To
these changes he gives the name of " impression ;" and he
explicitly says that the organ and the nerve, are to be re-
garded as media merely, for making the ultimate impres-
sion upon the brain, which he regards as the last step in
the material part of the process. " Here," says he, " the
material part ends ; at least, we can trace it no further, —
the rest is all intellectual,"*
Previous to the time of Dr. Reid, there had been many
speculations amongst philosophers, respecting the manner
in which this impression is conveyed from the organ of the
♦ Vol. I. p. 119.
■■^r
102 HYPOTHESES OF DES CARTES,
brain. The celebrated Des Cartes adopted the following
hypothesis. A certain fluid, to which he gave the name
of animal spirits, (of whose existence even we have no
proof,) is secreted, as he supposed, by the brain. This fluid
is conveyed through the nerves, which he considered tubu-
lar, to the organs of sense ; and when an impression is
%]ade upon the organ, it is communicated by the animal
spirits to the brain, in the pineal gland of which, being, of
all the parts of that member, the only one which is single,
he imagined the soul takes up its abode. The relicts of
this dream of a great mind, yet remain in the phraseology
which describes great constitutional vivacity, as an exube-
rance of animal spirits. The hypothesis itself has long
since sunk into deserved contempt. It is a mere hypo-
thesis.
The tubular structure of the nerves was denied by Dr.
Briggs, Sir Isaac Newton's master in astronomy. He af-
firmed them to be solid filaments of prodigious tenuity ;
and this opinion, as it accords better with observation,
seems to have been more generally received since his
time. He appears to have supposed them capable of vi-
bration, though their want of tenacity, moisture, &c.
render such an opinion highly improbable, and that the
impression is transmitted, by vibration of the nerve, from
the organ to the brain.
Sir Isaac Newton records it as a conjecture, whether
there may not be a subtile fluid, immensely rarer than air,
called ether, pervading all bodies ; and whether sensa-
tion may not be produced by the vibrations of this me-
dium, excited by the external object, and propagated
along the nerves.
On this hint, the celebrated Hartley appears to have
founded his doctrine concerning the manner in which im-
pressions are conveyed from the organ to the brain ; an
opinion which, in this country at least, entirely supplanted
the notion of Des Cartes. He himself explains it in the
following manner. " External objects, impressed on the
senses, occasion, first in the nerves, on which they are im-
pressed, and then in the brain, vibrations of the small,
IMPRESSION TRANSMITTED FROM THE ORGAN. 103
and, as one may say, infinitesimal meduHary particles.
And these vibrations," he adds, " are excited, propagated,
and kept up, partly by the ether, partly by the uniformity,
continuity, softness, and active powers of the medullary
substance of the brain, spinal marrow, and nerves." This
hypothesis, as it has been more than once replied, involves
two gratuitous suppositions — the existence of the ether,
and the existence of the vibrations of which it speaks ;
for nothing like proof has been given that the words are
not symbols of things which have no being. It is un-
worthy the dignity of philosophy to contend against such
mere assumptions.*
Granting, then, that in sensation, some impression is
transmitted from the organ to the central brain, we ought
still to reject the theories of Des Cartes and Hartley, and
to acknowledge, with Dr. Reid, that we are utterly igno-
rant of its nature. But are we sure that any impression
is thus transmitted ? The reasons for the supposition are
thus stated by Dr. Tloid '. " Whf»n the organ of any sense
is perfectly sound, and has the impression made upon it
by the object ever so strongly ; yet, if the nerve that
serves that organ be cut, or tied hard, there is no percep-
tion ; and it is well known, that disorders in the brain de-
prive us of the power of perception, when both the organ
and its nerve are sound."t Dr. Brown, on the other hand,
conceives it possible, and indeed probable, that sensation
is the immediate consequent of the change produced up-
on the organ. There is no reason to be assigned, d prioriy
he thinks, and very justly as it appears to us, that a cer-
tain state of the organ cannot be the cause of sensation,
as well as a certain state of the brain, especially when it
is recollected that the brain, nerve, and organ, are of the
same substance, and perfectly continuous. The causes to
which Dr. Reid refers, as preventing sensation, may
operate by destroying that sound state of the organ
which has been rendered necessary to sensation. The
nerve, organ, and brain, forming one great organ, " a
* Fide Reid, Vol. I. p. 122—138. Brown, Vol. II. pp. 424—432.
tP. 119.
104 CONNEXION BETWEEN MATTER
sound state of the whole organ, even from the analogy of
other grosser organs, may well be supposed to be neces-
sary for the healthy state, and perfect function, of each
separate part."*
Whatever be thought of this conjecture of Dr. Brown, it
can scarcely be doubted, I think, that, in the words just
quoted, he pushes his statements too far, and involves him-
self in contradiction. If the brain and the nerves be one
organ, as he affirms; and if a sound state of the whole
organ be necessary for the healthy state and perfect func-
tions of each separate part, as he further affirms ; is it not
manifest that disease in the nerves, connected with the
organ of sight, for instance, would paralyze the nerves con-
nected with all the other senses, yea, the whole brain itself?
— in opposition to fact, and to his own admissions, that the
blind are still sensible of sound, &c.
Nor does this writer appear to me to have given a satis-
factory reply to Dr. Reid's statements on this point. The
argument of Dr. T^PiH is, that wh^n a. nprvp. is boimd, or
cut, there is no sensation, because that circumstance pre-
vents the necessary transmission of the impression to the
brain. The argument is invalid, replies Dr. Brown, because
the application of the ligature, or the knife, prevents that
sound state of the nerve {i, e, as he means, the organ) which
is necessary to sensation. Now this reply might be re-
garded as sufficient, if the ligature, &c. destroyed the
sound state of the nerve above the seat of the injury as well
as below it. This, however, if I mistake not, is not the case.
The sensibility of the nerve above the ligature, or the
division, remains unimpaired; and as no reason can be
assigned why the injury should extend downwards, and not
upwards, the natural conclusion seems to be, that there is
no sensation below the seat of the injury, because that
injury cuts off the necessary communication with the brain.
There are other reasons, also, which a regard to brevity
will not allow me to mention, that concur with the above
statement in leading me to prefer the old views upon this
subject.
* P. 431.
AND MfND INEIPLICABLE. 10^
But though we should concede to Dr. Reid that the
changes of which he speaks are actual steps in the
process of sensation, the reader is again requested tor
bear in mind, that they are merely corporeal changes^
The only difference between these writers is, that the one
regards sensation as the immediate result of a certain
change in the state of the organ, while the other consi-
ders it as flowing directly from some change in the state
of the central brain. Both sentiments have to encoun-
ter the same difficulty — "how a change in what is mere
matter, should be followed by a change in a substance so
radically different from it, as mind." The hypotheses of
Des Cartes, and Hartley, so far from removing this diffi-
culty, do not tend, in the smallest degree, to diminish it*
For with reference to that of Hartley, the least fanciful
perhaps of the two, it may be observed, that it is as diffi-
cult to conceive how vibrations of the particles of the brain
should be followed by sensation, as how it should spring
directly from an organic change. Under the influence of
these considerations, an excellent writer has said, "All
attempts to explain the principle on which depends the
connexion between the body and the soul have been un-
successful. We can advance only a few steps in the pro-
cess, and there the inquiry of the philosopher terminates^
as well as the observations of the vulgar and the unreflect-
ing." Had the assertion been, "we cannot advance a
single step," it would, indeed, have been more correct; for
the mere tracing of the corporeal changes does nothing
towards explaining the connexion between matter and
mind. Were it possible, indeed, to trace them with cer-
tainty, we should do no more than is effected when we
trace the progress of the rays of light, from the object from
which they are reflected, to the optic nerve — which leaves
the mystery of perception entirely unravelled. There is,
accordingly, no late writer on Mental Science who does
not admit that all speculations on the point must be entirely
fruitless. "Of the nature of the connexion of the great
sensorial organ with the sentient mind," says one of the
most enlightened, "we shall never be able to understand
14
106 CONNEXION BETWEEN MATTER AND MIND
more than is involved in the simple fact, that a certain
affection of the nervous system precedes immediately a
certain affection of the mind."
Now there is one circumstance to which the reader's
attention is especially directed, viz. to that feeling of my s-
teriousness with which we are apt to think of the con-
nexion which subsists between matter and mind. It carries
along with it something peculiarly inexplicable in our ap-
prehension. The nature of the union which exists between
physical causes and their effects, is not, we admit, unat-
tended with difficulty ; but the mutual influence and ope-
ration of matter and mind, present, we are ready to ima-
gine, difficulties which are entirely sui generis, and especi-
ally incapable of solution.
For this feeling, however. Dr. Brown has succeeded in
proving that there exists no cause whatever in the nature
of the case. This distinguished writer has shown that the in-
fluence of matter upon mind, or of mind upon matter, is not
more inexplicable than the influence which matter exerts
upon matter, in the innumerable physical changes which
wefare every day called to witness. That a certain state
of any organ of sense should be directly succeeded by sen-
sation, is wonderful, and we feel it to he so: but that the
odour of a rose, coming in contact with the olfactory nerve,
should be immediately succeeded by that change in the
state of the organ, which is necessary to sensation, is
equally unintelligible-,-equally wonderful, and yet we do not
conceive it to he so. How is this ?
Dr.' Brown supposes that, in the facts just referred to, we
may trace the influence of the false notion, that physical
causes and effects are united by some secret link, or vincu-
lum, which link, though it resides in the cause, is totally
distinct from it, or something superadded to it. Consist-
ently^ with this notion, it is easy to conceive of matter be-
ing joined to matter ; — a vinculum may be found, or ima-
gined, to uniteFthem. But what fetters can be forged,
capable of holding in bondage two such radically different
substances as matter and mind ?
The notion, however, to which I have just referred, is
now universally abandoned, Mr. Stewart admits " that
NOT PECULIARLY WONDERFUL. 107
we are unable to perceive a necessary connexion between
two successive events; that this connexion may, in no
instance, be a necessary connexion ; that, in natural phi-
losophy, when we speak of one thing being the cause of
another, all that we mean is, that the two are constantly
conjoined, so that when we see the one we may expect the
other."
And when philosophers abandoned the notion of a secret
link between cause and effect, which, though distinct from
both, binds them together, they should have ceased to
regard the connexion between matter and mind, as involv-
ing in it any thing peculiarly inexplicable : I mean, that
they should have ceased to do this, whatever be the senti-
ments they held with reference to causation. For, if the
amount of what we know with regard to physical causes
and effects, be, that one event invariably precedes, and
another event invariably follows, we are surely not left
more entirely in the dark with respect to the union of mat-
ter and mind. Or, if the physical cause and effect be sup-
posed to be united by a direct exertion of divine power, it
is manifestly just as competent to that power to join, in
invariable sequence, a certain bodily change with a cer-
tain mental affection. Or, if it be imagined that there is
aptitude in the cause to precede, and in the effect to fol-
low — something, that is, in their constitution, of the nature
of which, however, we can form no conception, to adapt
them to stand in that mutual relation ; how can we doubt
that it is as easy for the Creator to impart this aptitude to a
physical substance, to stand in the relation of immediate
antecedent to a certain mental change, as to a certain phy-
sical change ? One might imagine, from the language of
some individuals, that it is not difficult to explain how
matter acts upon matter ; and we are apt to imagine that
we fully comprehend the subject. But we delude ourselves.
We know that the effect is linked, in invariable sequence,
with the cause ; and this is all we do know — all we ever
shall or ever can know. How it is so, we can form no
conception. " Why is it so ?" admits of no other answer,
than that God has ordained it to be so, and given the cause
108 THE NATURE OF THE KNOWLEDGE
an aptitude to precede, and the effect an aptitude to fol-
low ; but of the nature of that aptitude we are profoundly
ignorant. That matter should act upon mind, and mind
upon matter, is, indeed, wonderful ; but not more wonder-
ful than that matter should act upon matter ; " since all we
know in either case is, that a certain change of one sub-
stance has followed a certain change of another substance,
a change, which, in all cases exactly similar, is expected by
us to follow again."
VI, With reference to sensation, it is especially neces^-
sary to observe, that we must carefully guard against sup-
posing that, by the influence of external objects upon the
organs of sense, we gain any other knowledge of these ob-
jects, than of what they are relatively to our feelings. Per-
sons unaccustomed to reflect upon subjects of this kind,
are prone to imagine that we obtain, by sensation, a know-
ledge of what surrounding bodies are in themselves ; in
other words, to suppose that there must be something in
the objects, which act upon our senses, similar to the sen-
sations they produce — that there is sweetness in the sugar,
fragrance in the rose, heat in the fire, and so on. On the
same ground, they might have conceived of pain as resi-
ding in the knife, or sword, which wounded them ; for
sweetness, fragrance, heat, and pain, are all equally sensa-
tions, which can exist nowhere but in the mind : " and to
suppose that any property of matter can resemble them, is
not less absurd than the mistake of the blind man, who
conceived that the colour called scarlet resembled the
sound of a trumpet." It is not intended, of course, to deny
that there are qualities, or, as it has been explained, apti-
tudes in bodies to produce these feelings ; nor that, to the
aptitude of sugar, for instance, to cause the sensation of
sweetness, we may properly apply the term sweetness ; and
so of the other qualities. All that it is intended to affirm
is, that the quality, or aptitude, and the resulting sensation,
are not the same thing ; and, indeed, that they are not less
unlike than the sharp point of a needle, and the pain of the
puncture produced by it. Yet we are apt to forget this ;
^nd, in consequence of a bias contracted in infancy, are
OBTAINED BY SENSATION. 16i)
ready, as it has been observed, to transport our sensations
out of ourselves, and to spread them, as it were, over a sub-
stance to which they cannot possibly belong. This is
especially the case with regard to colour. How difficult do
we find it to divest ourselves of the belief that something
analogous to our sensations of colour is inherent in bodies !
Whereas it is unquestionable that colour, as a quality in
bodies, is nothing more than the properties of attraction
and repulsion ; in consequence of which they transmit
some rays and reflect others, and so appear coloured. And
that colour, considered with reference to the rays them-
selves, can be nothing more than an aptitude, of the nature
of which we can know nothing, to excite certain sensations
in our minds.
All this with reference to the secondary properties of
matter, as they are called, philosophers are now ready to
admit. Even Dr. Reid contends, not merely that there is
nothing like our feelings of fragrance, &c. in surrounding
objects, but that the qualities which produce these feel-
ings are only known as the causes of the sensations ; i, e.
that our knowledge of them is relative, not absolute.*
Besides the secondary qualities of bodies, as sound,
taste, colour, smell, heat, and cold, there are, however, as
every one knows, certain others, which Mr. Locke deno-
minated primary qualities, such as extension, divisibility,
f^urc, motion, solidity, hardness, softness, and fluidity ;
and to these qualities the foregoing remarks have been
thought not to apply. "Our senses," Dr. Reid states,
"give us only a relative and obscure notion of the se-
condary qualities; they merely inform us that they are
qualities which produce in us certain sensations ; but as
to what they are in themselves, our senses leave us in the
dark." On the other hand, he affirms, " that of the pri-
mary qualities, they give us a direct and a distinct notion,
and inform us of what they are in themselves,'^'' " Every
one," he adds, " capable of reflection, may easily satisfy
himself that he has a perfectly clear and distinct notion of
* Vide also Welsh's Memoirs, pp. 216, 217.
110 REMARKS ON DR. REID
extension, divisibility, figure, motion." Of fluidity, soft-
ness, and hardness, he says, " they are different degrees of
cohesion in the parts of a body ;" and he adds, " of the
cause of this cohesion we are ignorant, but the thing itself
we understand perfectly, being immediately informed of it
by the sense of touch. It is evident, therefore, that of the
primary qualities we have a clear and distinct notion ; we
know what they are, though we may be ignorant of their
causes."*
To the same effect is the language of Mr. Stewart. —
" The qualities perceived by smelling, tasting, hearing,
&c. are known to us only as the causes of certain sensa-
tions ; and have, therefore, been contra-distinguished, by
the name of secondary qualities, from those of which we
learn the nature directly and immediately from the sensa-
tions with which they are connected."!
According, then, to the statements of Dr. Reid, and his
illustrious disciple, the remark made a short time ago,
viz. that the influence of external objects upon the organs
of sense, can give us no other knowledge of those objects
than of what they are relatively to our feelings, must be
understood with limitations. Of the primary qualities of
matter, they affirm that we know what they are in them-
selves, and not merely what they are in relation to us. On
these statements, the following remarks are submitted to
the reader.
Firsts They appear to oppose Mr. Stewart's own ad-
mission, that our knowledge of matter is only relative.|
I do not dwell on this because Mr. Stewart probably
meant, with Dr. Reid, that our knowledge does not reach
to the essence of matter — that it only extends to what
matter is relatively to its properties. I would, however,
suggest, that it appears to be very anomalous phraseology.
We speak of the relations which one body bears to ano-
ther ; we speak also of the relation which one property of
matter bears to another property, and one state of mind
* Fide Vol. I. p. 332—338. t Fide Outlines, pp. 21, 22.
AND MR. Stewart's statements. Ill
to another state ; but surely it is language unwarranted
by general usage, to talk of the relations of a substance
to its qualities.
Secondly^ The direct and distinct notions which, as
both these writers affirm, we form of the primary qualities
of matter, are mental states, and mental states alone ;
and can, accordingly, bear no more resemblance to any
thing external than the sensations which result from the
secondary qualities of matter. Let it be granted, for the
present, that there is a difference in our notions or ideas of
the primary and secondary qualities ; that the former
are more distinct than the latter; still they are only
notions. The qualities of extension, and hardness, &c.
are not to be identified with the notions we form of them,
any more than the quality of fragrance is to be identified
with the sensations of fragrance. The qualities, and the
notions, it is to be further observed, do not, and cannot,
resemble each other. Hardness and extension are the
causes of our ideas, or notions ; but, as they are proper-
ties of matter, they can no niore resemble these notions,
or ideas, which are states of mind, than the unknown qua-
lity of the rose resembles the well-known sensation of fra-
grance. All our ideas, notions, perceptions, &c. are states
of mind, to which nothing external can bear the least re-
semblance. We know these states directly ; we know
what they are in themselves. But we know hardness and
extension, as qualities of matter, only relatively ; i, e. we
know them only as the antecedents, or causes, of these
mental states. To say we know what the qualities are in
themselves, is to identify the hardness and extension, which
are without us, with the notions of hardness and extension
which are within us. And this, incredible as it may ap-
pear, is the mistake into which Dr Reid has fallen.
Thirdly, Let it be considered whether more has not
been said with respect to the superior distinctness of our
notions of the primary qualities, than the case justifies.
Take the primary quality of hardness, and the secondary
quahty of colour, for instance. " Hardness," says Dr,
Reid, " is cohesion in the parts of bodies. Of the cause
112 THEIR ACCOUNT OP SENSATION
of this cohesion we are ignorant, but the thing itseli we per-
fectly understand, being immediately informed of it by the
sense of touch." Now, might it not be said, " colour, in
a body, is its tendency to reflect certain rays of light only,
in consequence of which it appears coloured : the cause of
this tendency we know not ; but the thing itself we per-
fectly understand, being immediately informed of it by the
sense of sight." Nay, might we not pursue the parallel
to the other secondary qualities ? Might it not be said,
" fragrance in a rose is its tendency to throw off certain
particles, which excite an agreeable sensation in us, as the
cohesion of the parts of bodies excites the notion of hard-
ness in us ? Of the cause of this tendency we are igno-
rant ; but the thing itself we perfectly understand, being
immediately informed of it by the sense of smell." " Fra-
grance is something unknown^ that, in a certain relation to
our olfactory nerves, excites a well-known agreeable sensa-
tion ; and hardness in the table is, in like manner, some-
thing unknown^ that, in a certain relation to our tactual
organs, excites the notion of hardness. But the notion of
hardness is in us, and not in the table, in the same way
that the agreeable feeling is in us, and not in the rose.
Mr. Stewart states it as a fact, that we have notions of ex-
ternal qualities which have no resemblance to our sensa-
tions, or to any thing of which the mind is conscious. But
surely we are conscious of nothing but our own feelings
and notions. We are conscious not of the qualities, but
of our notions of them ; and what these qualities are but
the unknown causes of these notions, we cannot, accord-
ing to the present constitution of our nature, ever know."*
The truth of the preceding statements will become
more apparent, after we have examined Dr. Reid's ac-
count of the difference which, as he conceives, exists be-
tween sensation and perception ; and when we have as-
certained what it is that really takes place in the mind,
when we are said to perceive an external object. Taking
this philosopher for our guide, the term Sensation de-
notes merely that change in the state of the mind, which
* Welsh's Memoirs of Dr. Brown, pp.255, 6.
AND PERCEPTION EXAMINED.
113
results from an impression upon any one of tiie organs of
sense. Perception expresses the knowledge which we
obtain of the qualities of matter, by means of our sen-
sations. As a mental faculty, or power, it is supposed,
further, to be simple and original, like sensation ; to be
the faculty by which this knowledge is gained ; as sensa-
tion is the power which renders us susceptible, or rather,
which is the susceptibility of feeling, when an external
object acts upon an organ of sense. " Sensation sup-
poses a sentient being, and a certain manner in which
that being is affected ; but it supposes no more. Percep-
tion implies an immediate conviction and belief of some-
thing external, something different both from the mind
which perceives, and from the act of perception."*
" When I smell a rose, there is, in this operation, both
sensation and perception. The agreeable odour I feel,
considered by itself, without relation to any external ob-
ject, is merely a sensation. This sensation can be nothing
else than it is felt to be. Its very essence consists in its
being felt ; and when it is not felt, it is not. There is no
difference between the sensation, and the feeling of it ;
they are one and the same. It is for this reason, we be-
fore observed, that in sensation there is no object distinct
from the act of the mind by which it is felt ; and this
holds true with regard to all sensations."! The incorrect-
ness of the phraseology here is manifest, though regard to
brevity forbids more to be done than to inquire, " What
is meant by an act of the mind by which the sensation
is felt ?"
" Let us next attend," adds Dr. Reid, " to the percep-
tion we have in smelling a rose. Perception has always
an external object ; and the object of my perception, in
this case, is that quality in the rose which I discern by the
sense of smell. Observing that the agreeable sensation
is raised when the rose is near, and ceases when it is re-
moved, I am led, by my nature, to conclude some quality
to be in the rose, which is the cause of this sensation.
* Vol. I. p. 329. + Vol. I. p. 321.
15
114 THEIR ACCOUNT OF SENSATION
This quality in the rose is the object perceived ; and that
act of my mind by which I have the conviction and belief
of this quality^ (what can be the meaning of these
words ?) is what, in this case, I call Perception.*
My first remark on* this statement is in reference to
some of the minor inaccuracies which it exhibits.
" Sensation," says Dr. Reid, " is nothing else than it
is felt to be." Now, when we recollect that these words
occur in a passage in which sensation and perception are
contra-distinguished from one another, it will be seen that
they necessarily imply that perception is something more
than it is felt to be. Yet, as no affection of the mind
can be any thing more than it is felt to be, it is impossible
to maintain the truth of this implied assertion, without
identifying perception with the thing perceived.
" The very essence of sensation consists in its being
felt ; and when it is not felt, it is not." Can perception
then exist, which the language implies, when we are not
conscious of it ? A sensation has no more right to ap-
propriate to itself the name of a feeling, than a percep-
tion as it is called ; both of them are feelings, or affec-
tions, or states of mind ; and if the one cannot exist
without a consciousness that such is the case, so neither
can the other.
" In sensation there is no object distinct from the act of
the mind by which it is felt." Now, if a sensation and
the feeling of it are the same, as we are assured, what
need is there for an act of mind to feel it 1 And what
can that act of mind be by which a sensation is felt ?
And, further, what can Dr. Reid mean by representing
this act of the mind as the object of sensation, at a time,
too, when he meant to say that sensation has no object,
and is thus distinguished from perception ? Yet his words
clearly imply this. " In sensation there is no object dis-
tinct from the act of the mind by which it is felt." Our
obligations to Dr. Reid, as a writer on mental science, are
very great ; yet it is not to be denied that his language i?
-- Vol. I. pp. 321,^.
AND PERCEPTION EXAMINED. 115
sometimes deficient in point of precision. What the
reader is now, however, particularly requested to observe,
is the statement of Dr. R. that perception has an object,
while sensation, as he alleges, has none. There is a sense
in which this assertion is true, as it will be afterward
seen ; but it is not true in the sense which he attaches to
the words. By the declaration that perception has an ob-
ject, he probably intended that when we perceive, we per-
ceive something. But, may it not be replied, that when we
feel, we also feel something ? in others words, are sensiblo
that there is some cause of our sensation? Whether the mere
circumstance that the cause was known in one case and
not in the other, if such were the fact, would warrant us
in considering the two feelings, as the result of two radi-
cally different powers of mind, will be seen afterward.
Secondly, the statement which Dr. Reid has here given
of perception, appears to be at direct variance with what
he says, in his Inquiry, concerning the information which
the mind obtains through the medium of the external
senses. He here talks of discerning qualities by the
senses. He tells us that " the external senses have a
double province ; — to make us feel, and to make us per-
ceive. They furnish us with a variety of sensations, some
pleasant, others painful, and others indifferent ; at the
same time, they give us a conception, and an invincible
belief, of the existence of external objects."* Now in
the work to which I have just referred, he tells us, in di-
rect opposition to this statement, that the senses of smell,
taste, hearing, and sight, give us no knowledge even of
the existence of external bodies, — that we might ex-
perience all the sensations which these senses can trans-
mit to the mind, and yet have no conception, and no be-
lief, that there is any thing without the mind. How tlien
can he maintain, as he does, that it is the business of
these senses to make us perceive, as well as feel ? And,
even with regard to the remaining sense of touch, he
shows, at great length, that there is nothing in the peculiar
* Pp. 349, 50. Vide also Stewart's Elements, Vol. I. 8vo edit. pp. 92
and 100.
} iO THEIR ACCOUNT OF SENSATION EXAMINED.
sensations of which it is the inlet, from whence the ex-
istence of any thing external can be inferred ; i. e. in
other words, that the sense of touch does not, any more
than the other senses, teach us to perceive. His object,
doubtless, is to show that the sensations of touch, by an
original law of our nature, suggest the notion of some-
thing external. But granting the correctness of this state-
ment, it is manifest that the notion itself — or the concep-
tion of something without us — is not properly by means
of the sensations of touch, though it accompanies them ;
but by means of that particular form of intuition, that
law of our nature, of which Dr. Reid speaks, and which
is roused into operation when the sensations of touch are
experienced. Now, no such law of our nature is called
into action when the sensations of smell, taste, sight, &c.
are produced ; so that if we were constrained to admit
his doctrine with reference to the sense of touch, — and to
say it is the office of that sense to make us feel, and to
make us perceive, — there would be no pretence whatever
for extending the same doctrine to the other senses.
Thirdly, I observe that, taking Dr. Reid's account of
the matter, it is obvious that the conclusion to which he
comes, in the case supposed, does not require, for arriving
at it, any distinct and original faculty. " Observing that
the agreeable sensation is raised when the rose is near,
and ceases when it is removed, 1 am led, by my nature, to
conclude some quality to be in the rose, which is the cause
of this sensation. This quality is the object perceived ;
and that act of the mind, by which I have the conviction
and belief of this quality, is what, in this case, I call per-
ception." Now, in remarking upon this statement, it
would be perfectly fair to say, that if the sensations of
touch had not been previously experienced, and so the
knowledge of things external already obtained, the Doc-
tor, so far from being led by his nature to conclude some
quality in the rose, which is the cause of the sensation,
could gain, by what he felt, according to his own state-
ments, no notion of the existence of the rose. Not to in-
sist upon this, however. I would ask whether the conclu-
PERCEPTION EXPLAINED. IIT
sion of which he speaks, is not a mere act of judgment, or
memory, founded on an intuitive belief. A sensation of
fragrance is experienced ; we believe intuitively that it
must have a cause ; experience teaches us to class it with
that order of feelings which are originated by external ob-
jects, of which we have learned the existence ; we judge,
accordingly, in the circumstances described by Dr. Reid,
that the rose is the cause of it. What necessity is there
for supposing that the belief, in this case, is the result of
an original power of mind, to which a peculiar name
should be given ? A farmer beholds the mangled remains
of a flock of sheep, — he sees the wolf, in the distance,
making his escape, — he judges that the wolf has been the
destroyer. Dr. Reid would not say he perceives it ; and
yet the conclusion is the result of the exercise of the same
mental power, which pronounced upon the cause of the
sensation. Dr. Reid does not venture to say here that he
perceives the quality. He is only led to conclude some
quality to he in the rose which is the cause of the sensa-
tion ; i, e. he concludes that the rose is its cause, and is
somehow adapted to be so. And when we judge the wolf
to be the destroyer, do we not conclude that he is adapted
to be so ? And should we not draw the same conclusion,
if the animal, making his escape with the marks of slaugh-
ter upon him, were one with whose nature and existence
we had been previously unacquainted ?
The foregoing remarks prepare the way for the follow-
ing statement, viz. that what we call Perception, is the
reference we make of our sensations to something external
as the cause of them. In the case supposed by Dr. Reid
we refer the agreeable feeling to the rose, as its cause.
The reference is different from the feeling itself— it is dif-
ferent from the object, or the rose ; but it results not from
a particular faculty of the mind given to it for that ex-
press purpose, but from the general principle, whatever
that principle may be, by which we are enabled to draw
conclusions in other cases. When Dr. Reid says, as he
appears to do in other parts of his works, that we perceive
the quality itself, if he intends more than that we conclude
118 THE NATURE Or
there is a quality in the rose adapted to excite the sensatiou,
his statement is at variance with all he has said with regard
to secondary qualities ; viz. that our notions of them are
only relative — that they are conceived of only as the
unknown causes of well-known feelings — that, correctly
speaking, we have no conception of the?n^ because "a
relative notion of a thing is no notion of the thing at all, but
only of some relation which it bears to something else."*
But do we not perceive the rose, it will be asked, though
it should be conceded that we cannot be said to perceive
the quality ? The answer is, that we do not wish to aban-
don the phraseology, but to determine its meaning — to
ascertain, in short, what it is that takes place in the mind
when the rose is said to be perceived. This flower, then,
when present, let it be observed, produces sensations of
smell, and of sight. Now these sensations are not adapted
to excite the notion, and, therefore, do not originally ex-
cite the notion, of any thing external ; i, e, they give us
no perceptions. It is admitted, on all hands, that origi-
nally there was nothing in the mind, when a rose was pre-
sent, but the sensations. Now, however, there certainly is
something more than the sensations ; and the question is,
" What is it ?" To that question I answer, *' It is the re-
ference which the mind makes of the sensations to some-
thing external, at a certain distance from us, of a certain
form, texture, &c., as their cause ; — a reference which ex-
perience, when we have gained the knowledge of things
external in the manner to be afterward described, enables
us to make." It is to be observed, however, that this re-
ference neither involves, nor is -accompanied with, any
knowledge of the rose, but as the unknown cause of these
sensations of smell and sight. Perception of the rose is
then this reference, or the belief that these visual, and nasal
feelings, are produced by a certain external body, to which
we give the name of rose.
I am aware that individuals, unaccustomed to such spe-
culations, will yet inquire, " But do not we see the rose ?"
* Vol. I. p. 334.
r/>:f-
PERCEPTION EXPLAINED. 119
I answer, that this perception of the rose, of which they
imagine themselves the subjects, is either the particular
sensation of sight which the rose produces ; or the refer-
ence of this sensation to something external as its cause,
which is known to be present by the existence of the sensa-
tion, and which is onhj known as the cause of the sensation.
The child, it is admitted, before he has gained more
knowledge than can be derived from the sense of sight,
does not see the rose in the sense which we now attach to
to the words. Were it not for the sense of touch, it is fur-
ther admitted, we should never see the rose in our present
sense of the terms. The result of the presence of a rose
would be a mere sensation, the cause of which would never
be imagined to be any thing external. Such is not the
perception of a rose now ; because the sense of touch, or
muscular sensation, has given us the knowledge of some-
thing without us ; and experience has taught us that when
certain sensations exist, certain external bodies are pre-
sent to the organs, and, therefore, we refer the sensations
to these bodies as their causes.
With the sensations of touch, however, or with the mus-
cular sensations, which for the present I do not distinguish
from each other, I admit that there is connected an intui-
tive belief in the existence of things external. It will, ac-
cordingly, be perhaps contended, that we have here per-
ception in the sense which Dr. Reid attached to the term.
Let us examine this subject a little more fully.
An external body is brought, we shall suppose for the
first time, into contact with the organ of touch. It pro-
duces its appropriate sensation. That sensation suggests
the notion of something out of the mind. It is not only
believed to have a cause, but it is referred intuitively to
something external as its cause. What can perception, in
this case, be more than this intuitive reference ?
It will be replied, perhaps, that, along with this intuitive
reference, there arises, by a law of the mind, the notion of
extension, figure, hardness, &c. ; — that this notion is the
perception of these qualities, and pre-supposes an original
power of mind, to which the same name (perception) is
120 THE NATURE OF
given, by which it is rendered capable of forming the
notion. Now if it be granted that such notions do arise,
(though it may be doubted whether our conceptions of
hardness, roundness, &c. &c. include any thing more than
a notion, in each case, that there is something external
which produces the sensations we experience when we
touch a hard and a round body : so that our conceptions
of the primary qualities may not be essentially different
from the notions we have of the secondary qualities of mat-
ter,) it is maintained, that they arise in the same way with
our belief that the whole is greater than its part — or that
the order of nature will remain the same ; and that we
might with as much propriety ascribe our belief, in the
cases just mentioned, to the power of perception, as our
notions of extension, figure, &c. It may be further ob-
served, also, that if the term Perception be regarded as
denoting these notions, there can be no perception by the
other senses ; for, according to Dr. Reid and Mr. Stewart's
own account of the matter, we have no notion, in this
sense, of the secondary qualities ; we only know them as
causes of peculiar sensations ; L e. we have no notion of
them, but of their relations,''^ Let it be also recollected,
in addition to what has been said, that, whatever be the
nature of our notions of hardness, extension, form, &c., they
are not the qualities themselves — that there can be nothing
in the mind but conceptions or notions of the qualities —
that the qualities cannot in the nature of things, bear any
resemblance whatever to the notions, &c. ; from all which
it follows, that the primary qualities are only known as the
antecedents or causes of certain -sensations and notions;
i, e. they are not known absolutely, but relatively only.
In thus stating the opinion, however, that perception is
not a simple and original power of the mind — that the
word denotes merely the reference we make of our sensa-
tions to something external as their cause, I agree with
Dr. Brown, to whom we are indebted for the most enlight-
cned views upon this subject, in thinking, that it is not
desirable to erase the word from our metaphysical vocabu-
lary. " On the contrary," he adds, " I conceive it to be a
TERCEPTION EXPLAINED. 121
very convenient one, if the meaning attached'to it be suffi-
ciently explained, by an analysis of the complex state of
mind which it denotes ; and the Ose of it confined rigidly
to cases in which it has this meaning. Sensation may exist
without any reference to an external cause, in the same
manner as we may look at a book without thinking of the
author; — or it may exist with reference to an external
cause ; and it is convenient, then, to confine the term sen-
sation to the former of these cases, and perception to the
latter.'"** There is, accordingly, no object in sensation, in
this sense of the word ; i. e, no reference is made to the
cause of the feeling. In Perception there is an object ;
f. c. in perception such a reference is made, and by this,
and this alone, it is distinguished from sensation.
Before proceeding to the last general remark concern-
ing sensation, it may be proper to give an account of some
of the difliculties in which the more ancient writers on the
subject of perception were involved — difficulties with which
they could not have been perplexed, had they entertained
juster and simpler views of its nature. It is not easy, in-
deed, to state what were the precise ideas they entertained
in reference to perception ; the probability is, that there
was nothing very definite in their conceptions. The lan-
guage they employ is analogical, and grossly material.
One thing, however, is tolerably certain, viz. that they
imagined that, in perception, matter acts in some way
upon mind, or mind upon matter, or that there is a mutual
and reciprocal operation of matter and mind. Out of this
opinion arose, as it appears to me, the absurd doctrine of
perception by images. Of this doctrine, I shall^rs^ give
a brief account ; secondly^ exhibit its connexion with the
•assumed axiom on which it was made to rest ; and thirdly^
present the reader with a few of those remarks upon it,
which the present advanced state of the science of mental
philosophy enables us to make.
The doctrine itself may be stated in a very few words.
The objects by which we are surrounded, are continually
» Vide Vol. TT. p. 47.
16
122 THE SUPPOSED AXlOxVf
throwing ofi' certain shadowy films, or resemblances of
themselves, called anciently species, forms, phantasms,
ttc, and, in more modera times, ideas, or by Mr. Hume,
impressions. These species of phantasms, coming in
contact with the organs of sense, are by them transmit-
ted to the brain, on which, as it seems to have been ima-
gined, they impress an image of themselves, or of external
objects. I have said, it seems to have been imagined,
because it is in some measure doubtful whether they con-
ceived the image to be impressed upon the mind, or the
brain, or upon both. It is certain however, that these
species, or the impressions made by them, were regarded
by ancient writers as the immediate, i. e, real objects in
perception ; and that, when they talked of perceiving exter-
nal objects, they intended their language to be understood
metaphorically, as we may be said to perceive an absent
friend when we look on his picture. " Plato," says Dr.
Reid, " illustrates our manner of perceiving the objects of
sense in this manner. He supposes a dark subterraneous
cave, in which men lie bound in such a manner, that they
can direct their eyes only to one part of the cave. Far
behind them is a light, some rays of which come over a
wall to that part of the cave which is before the eyes of our
prisoners. A number of persons, variously employed, pass
between them and the light, whose shadows are seen by
the prisoners, but not the prisoners themselves."
This statement abundantly confirms the assertion made
a short time ago, that the language of the ancient philoso-
phers on this subject is analogical, and grossly material.
It is impossible to reflect upon it without feeling that they
must have conceived of the mind as possessing eyes like
the body ; and, further, that the mind perceives an object
by looking at it. And there is strong ground to think
that some modern philosophers, of great name, opposed,
as they imagine themselves to be, to the old Peripatetics,
have not entirely delivered themselves from the influence
of this false analogy.
The connexion of this view of perception with the as-
sumed axiom, that nothing can act where it is not, i&
manifest. The invention of these phantasms was a con-
ON WHICH THEY WERE BUILT. Iii3
trivance to destroy, not so much the distance between the
senses and the object, which Dr. Brown alleges, as the
distance between the object and the percipient mind ;
that there might be that mutual action of matter and
mind which they deemed essential to perception. The
following statements will show this. " I suppose," says
Malebranche, " that every one will grant, that we per-
ceive not the objects that are without us immediately and
of themselves. We see the sun, the stars, and an infinity
of objects without us ; and it is not at all likely that the
soul sallies out of the body, and, as it were, takes a walk
through the heavens, to contemplate all those objects.
She sees them not, therefore, by themselves ; and the im-
mediate object of the mind, when it sees the sun, for ex-
ample, is not the sun, but something which is intimately
united to the soul ; and it is that which 1 call an idea.
So that, by the word idea, I understand nothing else here
but that which is the immediate object, or nearest to the
mind, when we perceive any object. It ought to be care-
fully observed, that, in order to the mind's perceiving any
object, it is absolutely necessary that the idea of that
object be actually present to it. Of this it is not possible
to doubt. The things which the soul perceives are of
two kinds. They are either in the soul, or without the
soul. Those that are in the soul are its own thoughts ;
that is to say, all its different modifications. The soul has
no need of ideas for perceiving them. But with regard to
things without the mind, we cannot perceive them but by
means of ideas."
" How body acts upon mind, or mind upon body,"
says Dr. Porterfield, " I know not ; but this 1 am very
certain of, that nothing can act, or be acted upon, where
it is not ; and, therefore, our mind can never perceive any
thing but its own proper modifications, and the various
states of the sensorium to which it is present. So that it
is not the external sun and moon which are in the heavens,
which our mind perceives ; but only their images or repre-
sentations impressed upon the sensorium. How the soul
of a seeing man sees these images, or how it receives those
1*24 THE SUPPOSED AXIOM
ideas from such agitations in the sensorium, I know not ;
but 1 am sure it can never perceive the external bodies
themselves, to vi^hich it is not present."*
These extracts sufficiently explain the notions concern-
ing perception, which were formerly entertained by
philosophers, and the reasons which led to their adop-
tion. " Whatever difficulties the hypothesis of species
involved," says Dr. Brown, " it at least seemed to remove
the supposed difficulty of perception at a distance, and by
the half spiritual tenuity of the sensible images, seemed
also to affi)rd a sort of intermediate link for the connexion
of matter with mind."t
This theory of perception by images, together with all
its connected absurdities, it ought to be observed, had
partly given place to more rational conceptions before
the time of Dr. Reid, whose writings demolished the crazy
fabric altogether. Dr. Brown indeed affirms, that, from
the time of the decay of the Peripatetic philosophy, the
opinions of the very men whom Dr. Reid considered him-
self opposing, were precisely the same with his own ; that
he has been misled, by understanding in a literal sense
what they understood in a figurative sense, and so has
maintained a sort of "windmill contest" with metaphors
only •, and, beyond all question, he does produce passages
from the writings of Des Cartes, Locke, and others, which
seem to bear him out in his assertions. It is necessary,
however, to put one statement in the balance against
another ; and any one who does this carefully, will be dis-
posed, I apprehend, to think that sufficient justice has
scarcely been done to Dr. Reid ; ^hat more darkness hung
over the minds of men, on this subject, than Dr. Brown is
disposed to allow. Mr. Welsh conceives it quite indis-
putable, " that the language of Locke is merely meta-
phorical ;" the statements, however, of the former, seem
only to prove that they were occasionally so ; and the fol-
lowing extract from Dr. Price's Review proves, beyond all
question, that the old theory of images had by no means
* Vide Reid's Essays, Vol. I. pp. 289, 290.
t ^«^« Vol. II. p. 107.
OF PECEPTION BY IMAGES. I5i5
entirely disappeared. " External objects themselves not
being present, if perceived, they must be perceived by
ideas of them. Nor will it follow from hence, that we
can have no assurance of the existence of external ob-
jects. All ideas imply the possibility of the existence of
correspondent objects ; and our belief of the actual ex-
istence of the objects of sense, we may resolve (as Dr.
Reid does) into impressions on our senses, forcing belief
at the moment of the impression in a manner we cannot
explain. And this may be done to more advantage on
the supposition of ideas, than without it. For scepticism
seems to be less favoured by supposing, that in perception
by our senses there is something distinct from the mind,
and independent of it, really perceived,- than by supposing
that there is nothing then perceived."*
Upon the whole doctrine of perception by images, the
following remarks are submitted : —
First, that, in relation to many objects of perception, it
implies a manifest absurdity. " If vision," says Dr. Brown,
" had been our only sense, we might, perhaps, have under-
stood, at least, what was meant by the species that directly
produce our visual images. But what is the phantasm of
a sound or an odour ?" We perceive, according to this
doctrine, by means of all the senses ; and yet by none of
the senses is it possible to perceive, but by the sense of
sight.
Secondly, that, in relation to visual objects, it is a mere
hypothesis. What proof have we that an image of such
objects even as will admit of an image, is formed in the
brain ? " The brain," says Dr. Reid, " has been dis-
sected, times innumerable, by the nicest anatomists —
every part of it examined by the naked eye, and with the
help of microscopes ; but no vestige of an image of any
external object was ever found. The brain seems to be
the most improper subject that can well be imagined for
receiving or retaining images, being a soft, moist, medul-
lary substance."!
* Vide Price, Note C. pp. 481, 482. t Vol. I. p. 149.
I'M REMARKS UPON THE DOCTRINE
And further, it may be asked, What proof have we even
of the existence of the species themselves^ by which the
images in the brain are supposed to be formed ? Has any
man ever seen them ? Has any one ever been conscious
of them ? This is not pretended. The only thing like
argument in the support of their existence is derived from
the assumption, that nothing can act where it is not ; and
that this assumption is a false one, will, it is hoped, speedily
appear. The whole doctrine of perception by images is,
therefore, nothing but a fiction, or an hypothesis ; " and
men," says Dr. Reid, "then only begin to have a true
taste in philosophy, when they have learned to hold hypo-
theses in just contempt, and to consider them as the reve-
ries of speculative men, which will never have any simili-
tude to the works of God."
Thirdly^ that, as an hypothesis, it is useless in relation
to the great purpose for which it was invented. It leaves
any supposed difficulty on the subject of perception just
where it found it. For supposing the monstrous absurdity,
that there are images of sounds, smells, &c. as well as of
colour and form, could be disposed of; and that we were
to allow that, by some mysterious process (a process which,
on their own principles, must be as mysterious as percep-
tion itself,) they niiake their way to the brain, and impress
the likeness of themselves upon that member ; what real
progress should we have made in explaining the phgeno-
mena of perception ? It was to destroy the distance be-
tween the object of perception and the mind, that the ex-
pedient of species, or images, was resorted to. But if the
brain, on which the image is supposed to be formed, and
the mind, are not in contact with each other, it is manifest
that the distance is not destroyed after all. The image is
not where the mind is : and, therefore, Malebranche and
others have still the main difficulty to solve, how the image
in the brain acts upon the mind (or the mind upon the
image, for it is difficult to say which was regarded as the
agent in perception) where it is not. We cannot wonder
that Dr. Porterfield should say, " How the soul of a seeing
OF PERCEPTION BY IMAGES. 1*27
man sees these images I know not ;" for, if it be true
that nothing can act where it is not, — and if it be fur-
ther true, that in perception there is an action of matter
upon mind, or of mind upon matter, — it is obviously
as impossible for the soul of a seeing inan to see an image
of the sun in the brain, as to perceive the sun itself, at the
distance of nearly a hundred millions of miles.
Should it be said, with a view to obviate this difficulty,
that the soul resides in the brain, so that the image of an
external object in the brain is present to the soul ; I would
ask what is meant by this language. We know what we
are to understand by the assertion, that one portion of
matter is present to another ; the phrase imports that the
two are, according to ordinary conception, in contact ;
but how can these ideas be applied to such opposite
existences as the soul and the body ? How can a material
substance be present to, or in contact with, an immaterial
one ? Besides, if any notion could be formed of the con-
tact of mind and matter, how would this diminish the sup-
posed difficulty of perception ? " Two things may be in
contact without feeling or perception." " This power of
perceiving ideas," says Dr. Reid, " is as inexplicable as any
of the powers explained by it. And the contiguity of the
object contributes nothing at all to make it better under-
stood ; because there appears no connexion between conti-
guity and perception, but what is grounded on prejudices
drawn from some imagined similitude between mind and
body."*
The only way of apparent escape from the pressure of
this difficulty, is to contend that these phantasms, or spe-
cies, produce directly upon the mind, and not upon the
brain, images of themselves. But to do this is to plunge
still deeper into the regions of mystery and nonsense. For
how can an image of that which has parts exist in an indi-
visible essence like the mind ? Surely the notion of an
image, in the mind, must have appeared to the Peripate-
tics themselves as great an absurdity, as that any thing
* Vol. I. pp. 305, 6.
■
1128 THE DOCTRINE BUILT UPON
should act where it is not, had their attention been fairly
directed towards it.
Fourthly^ that the assertion just referred to, viz. " nothing
can act where it is not," so far from deserving to be re-
garded as an axiom, is a mere assumption, for which there
is no proof whatever. It has been too long the custom of
philosophers to regard it as a self-evident proposition. Dr.
Reid himself declares his conviction that its truth must be
admitted ; and, for a reason which does not appear to pos-
sess much weight, even on his own notions of power,
" That nothing," says he, " can act where it is not, must I
think be admitted ; for J agree with Sir Isaac Newton,
that power without substance is inconceivable."* But
power residing in a substance, though it should operate
beyond the boundaries of that substance, is not, it is obvi-
ous to reply, power without substance.
Conceding, however, what he does to the old philoso-
phers. Dr. Reid is constrained to deny that in perception
there is any action of matter upon mind, or of mind upon
matter, — a denial on which some very powerful animad-
versions are made by a writer in the Encyclopcedia Bri-
tannica^ though they do not appear to be grounded on the
most enlightened principles ; for the action of one body
upon another, can mean no more than that it is the imme-
diate antecedent of some change in that other body ; and
that there is, in this sense, a mutual action of matter and
mind, is undoubted. A certain change, for instance, in the
external organ, or the central brain, is immediately fol-
lowed by a change in the state of the mind ; i, e. in the
only intelligible sense of the words, matter acts upon mind.
Again a certain volition of the mind, is instantly followed
by an action of some part of the muscular frame ; L e,
mind acts upon matter.
Dr. Reid, however, is driven to the necessity of denying
either that the mind, in perception, acts upon the object,
or the object upon the mind, as the only way of escape
from all the absurdities of the ideal philosophy. He is
♦ Vol. I. p. 290.
AN ASSUMED AXIOMS 129
driven to it, as we have seen, by hi& unnecessary admis-
sion of the truth of the pretended axiom to which we now
refer. And I call it an unnecessary admission, since it is
as impossible to conceive how two bodies, in a state of
junction, act upon each other, (whatever sense we attach
to the term action — even if we use it in Dr. Rcid's sense,
which seems to include something more than immediate
antecedence,) as to explain the fact when they are in a
state of separation 5 and, therefore, we have no more right
to pronounce the latter to be impossible than the former.
In fact, all the evidence of experience goes to prove that,
in order to action, it is not necessary that two bodies be
in a state of junction or contact. The sun attracts the
earth — the earth the sun ; the moon raises the tides, and
alters the relative position of every atom upon the face of
our globe ; and yet the sun is not where the earth is — the
earth is not where the moon is. In fact there is not, as we
have good reason to think, one single atom of matter in
the whole universe in contact with another atom ; and yet
the principle of attraction pervades all, 1. e. matter acts
where it is not.
There is no possible way, then, of supporting the credit
of this pretended axiom, but to deny that any portion of
matter can be properly said to act upon another, — to main-
tain that all the motions and changes in the material world
are, in fact, effected by spirit, not body, — that God, in
other words, is the only agent in the physical universe.
Nor is it certain that even this will answer the purpose; for
it is as difficult, as we have seen, to say the least of it, to
conceive how spirit can be present with matter, as how one
particle of matter can be present to another. That the
great Being who formed the universe is so far present every
where, as that his knowledge and power pervade all times,
and all places, is a truth of which we can form a tolerably
clear conception ; but to talk of his being present in the
sense of the metaphysicians, when they say that matter can
neither act, nor be acted upon, where it is not, is to get far
beyond our depth, and to utter words which, while they
reach the ear, convey no idea to the understanding.
17
130 THE DOCTRINE BUILT UfOS
The preceding reasoning is valid, whatever sense vi^e at*
tach to the term action ; but if, when we employ the phrase
" one body acts upon another," the meaning is merely that
it produces a change in the state of that other body, I can
see, for my part 1 acknowledge, no plausible reason for
supposing that the junction of the two bodies is necessary
for the production of such an effect. It is just as easy to
Divine power so to constitute the sun and the earth, as
that a change should take place in the latter, when
brought into a certain relative position with reference to
the former, though at the distance from it of 95,000,000 of
miles, as if the two were in actual contact. Our feelings
are apt to deceive us on this subject, in consequence of the
circumstance that most of the changes which we witness
are produced among bodies in seeming contact with eacli
other. We should remember, however, that this contact
is only a seeming contact, (in fact, if it were real, the change
would be equally unaccountable) ; and that there are cases
of influence in which even apparent contact does not exist,
— such, for instance, as the mutual attraction of the earth,
and the heavenly bodies ; — a fact which nonplusses the fol-
lowers of the old philosophy, (the supposition of any thing
intervening between the earth and moon does not destroy
the difficulty, for still there is no contact,) and fairly com-
pels them to acknowledge their ignorance, or draws from
them a more than ordinary portion of nonsense and absur-
dity. The time is not far distant, let us hope, when this
nostrum of the dark ages will descend to the grave of all
the Capulets, whither it should have gone long ago.
Fifthly, that the whole doctrine of perception by images
is built on a radically mistaken conception of the nature of
perception, giving existence to difficulties, as we have seen,
Vi'hich could not have been fancied even to exist, with
more correct views of its nature. For if perception be
neither more nor less than the reference, either instinctive
or otherwise, which we make of our sensations to some-
thing external, as the causes to which they owe their exist-
ence, it is manifestly attended with no more difficulty to
refer them to something distant, than to something near.
A GRATUITOUS AXIOM. 131
When the finger approaches a candle, and we feel its heat,
we refer the sensation of warmth to the candle. In like
manner, when basking in the heat of the sun, we refer the
sensation we feel to the solar rays as its cause. There is
as much difficulty in the one case as in the other, and no
more ; i, e. there is, in neither case, no difficulty at all.
VII. The Seventh and last general observation with re-
ference to sensation is, that it is that power which connects
us with the external world ; and that to it may be ulti-
mately traced all the knowledge of which we are pos-
sessed.
" The philosophers," says Mr. Stewart, " who endea-
voured to explain the operations of the human mind by the
theory of ideas, and who took for granted, that in every
exertion of thought there exists in the mind some object
distinct from the thinking substance, were naturally led to
inquire whence these ideas derive their origin ; in particu-
lar, whether they are conveyed to the mind from without,
by means of the senses, or from part of its original fur-
niture."*
While ideas continued to be regarded as little images in
the mind, distinct both from the mind and the object, it is
not wonderful that, with regard to 7nany of them at least,
the latter opinion was generally held. It must have been
so difficult to show in what manner a very considerable
number could have entered by the senses, or been produced
by reflection, that it was at any rate the easiest mode to
say, with Des Cartes, that they are innate.
Mr. Locke raised hi^ voice against the doctrine of innate
ideas, maintaining that all may be traced to sensation, or
reflection. He insists that the mind has no original furni-
ture of this description, — that all our ideas of external
objects enter by means of the senses ; and that the rest are
obtained from what he calls the perception of the opera-
tions of our own minds, employed about the ideas it has
got. These ideas, thus acquired, " the understanding," he
says, " has the power to compare, unite, &c, so as to make
'^ Vol. I. p. 94.
132 THK ORIGIN OF OUR IDEAS.
at pleasure new complex ideas ; but it has not the power to
invent or frame one new simple idea in the mind, not taken
in by the way before mentioned."*
These notions of Locke, after prevailing for a time, were
assailed by Leibnitz and Shaftesbury, who insist that many
things are innate to the mind, particularly the intellectual
powers themselves, and the simple ideas which are neces-
sarily unfolded by their exercise. On this statement it has
been well observed, that " a part of it is doubtless true,
though the truth is so obvious that it may perhaps be safely
affirmed that Mr. Locke never dreamed of denying it.
That our faculties, as conception, memory, and the like,
are not ideas acquired by sensation or reflection, is just as
plain as that the powers of perceiving and reflecting are
not so acquired. It is mere trifling to say that Mr. Locke
has not marked the distinction. Pie was not bound to
mark it. It is involved of necessity in the statement of
his theory. For the rest, by what sort of logic is it that
ideas, unfolded by the exercise of the faculties, can be
shown to be innate ?"
The views of Mr. Stewart differ materially from those
of Locke. He supposes that sensation and conscious-
ness, or reflection, furnish what he calls the occasions on
which the mind is first led to form those simple notions
into which our thoughts may be analyzed, and which may
be considered as the principles or elements of human
knowledge — that the sensations, received by means of the
external senses, furnish the occasions for instance, on which
the intellectual faculty forms the notion of sounds, smells,
flavours, colours, &c. ; since the -notions are confined to
those who are possessed of these senses — thatthe exer-
cise of the mental faculties furnishes the occasions, in like
manner, on which the ideas of reflection (according to
Locke's classification) — such, for example, as those of-
time, motion, personal identity, &c. are formed; to the
existence of which notions, or ideas, the exercise of the
respective faculty is indispensable — and that since sensa-
* Fide Bool? II. Chap, i, ii.
DOCTRINE OF LOCKE, STEWART, &C. 133
tion originates this exercise of the mental faculties, all our
ideas may, in the sense explained above, be referred to it.
In answering the question, whether all our knowledge may
be ultimately traced from our sensations, he replies in the
affirmative; but says it implies nothing more " than that
the impressions made upon our senses, by external ob-
jects, furnish the occasions on which the mind, by the laws
of its constitution, is led to perceive the qualities of the
external world, and to exert all its intellectual faculties."
" Agreeably to this explanation of the doctrine," he adds,
"it may undoubtedly be said with plausibility (and I am
inclined to believe with truth) that the occasions on which
all our notions are formed, are furnished either immedi-
ately, or ultimately, by sense." The amount of Mr.
Stewart's statements seems to be, that the exercise of the
mental faculties, — as for instance, memory, abstraction,
reason, <fec., — furnishes the occasions on which certain
simple notions arise in the mind ; and that impressions
made on our organs of sense, or rather that actual sensa-
tions, are the occasions of this exercise of the faculties, so
that, in this way, all our knowledge may be traced from
our sensations.*
There appears to be a mixture of truth and error, in the
statements both of Mr. Locke and Mr. Stewart. That no
ideas, either in the ancient or modern sense of the term,
can be properly said to be innate, is now generally con-
ceded to Mr. Locke. That some impression from with-
out, i, e. upon an organ of sense, is necessary to awaken
the mind to the first exercise of consciousness, or rather
(for the language of Mr. Stewart conveys no distinct idea)
that sensations, as the term was formerly explained, are
necessarily the first feelings which the mind experiences,
and without which it would be impossible for it to become
the subject of any other, or even, as Mr. S. says, to arrive
at the knowledge of its own existence, must be allowed to
Mr. Stewart. This is indeed denied by a late writer, who
seems disposed to substitute the theory of innate sensations,
* ride Elements, Vol. T. Chap. I. Sec. 4. PhiL Essays, p, 80—92.
134 INNATE SENSATIONS ABSURD.
in place of the innate ideas of Des Cartes. " We firmly
believe," says this writer, " that its most important feel-
ings, {i. e, the mind's,) are independent of the senses ;
we mean the feelings of pleasure and pain, which are
coeval with our existence as sentient beings, and may be,
and we doubt not must be perceived, before the senses are
called into exercise." This statement most manifestly
confounds/eeZm^5 with susceptibilities of feeling ; the lat-
ter of which are doubtless coeval with our existence ; but
not the former. Having committed this almost incredible
mistake, our author proceeds, " all that the senses can do,
so far as the mere animal is concerned, is to supply those
pleasures which the mind desires," (the pleasures are not
then in the mind, but are to be brought in by the senses ;)
" and we have elsewhere supposed," he adds, " and we
think it incontrovertible, that the mind may continue sus-
ceptible of pleasure, or of pain, in the absence of all the
external senses." This is readily granted ; but how does
it prove that the mind may be in a state of pleasure or of
pain, before any impression is made upon any of the senses,
and even in the absence of the senses ? " Take away,"
the same writer proceeds, " sight, hearing, taste, and
smell ; will a man then be incapable of feeling pleasure
and pain ? No. Take away the remaining sense of touch ;
is he then an insentient mass ? No. Supply his wants,
and he will still be happy." Now it is readily admitted,
that the destruction of the senses, or even of the whole
body, does not necessarily involve the destruction of the
mind — that all its susceptibilities of feeling might remain,
and would be again developed, m similar circumstances ;
— it is further admitted, that the mind, in the case sup-
posed, might be the actual subject of states of feeling,
which are in a high degree pleasurable or painful ; though
not of such as at present directly result from the influence
of external objects upon the corporeal organs. All this, I
say, is admitted. But the unparalleled absurdity of the
statement is, that a man may have animal wants after he
has lost all his senses — wants capable of being supplied ;
for his language is, " Supply his wants, and he will be
TRUTH OF MR. STEWART 'S STATEMENT. 135
happy, so far,'' he adds, " as his animal existence is con-
cerned !"* Will this facetious writer be so obliging as to
inform us, in the next edition of that useful work in which
this extraordinary language is to be found, of what kind of
animal wants a man can be the subject, and what kind of
animal existence he can possess, when he is deaf, and
dumb, and blind — has neither touch, nor taste, nor smell ?
It must, also, be further granted to Mr. Stewart, that,
though sensations are necessarily the first feelings of the
mind, and essential to all others, all our knowledge is not
directly derived from sensation ; or, to speak more ac-
curately, that our knowledge does not consist merely in the
knowledge of our sensations. There are, doubtless, notions,
or ideas, which arise in the mind, by the laws of its constitu-
tion, on the occurrence of various sensations, and perhaps
also, as Mr. Stewart says, on the exercise of its faculties,
which bear no resemblance to the sensations, which are
their necessary precursors. The first sensation, according
to Mr. Stewart, and the second, existing contempora-
neously with the remembrance of the first, according to
Dr. Brown, gives us the notion of self. The occurrence of
a certain event, originates the assurance that, in all future
time, a similar result will be witnessed in the same cir-
cumstances ; i. e. it gives us the notion of a cause. All
this is freely conceded to Mr. Stewart ; but it is appre-
hended that some mistakes occur in his statements, in
consequence of what are conceived to be his false views
of the nature of perception, and which tend to exhibit
their fallacy. In the hope of throwing a little more light
upon this interesting and difficult subject, the following
observations, in the form of remarks upon the doctrine of
Mr. Stewart, are submitted to the reader. In the
First place, Mr. Stewart seems to have fallen into a
mistake with reference to the notions, which, as he says,
the mind is led to form, through the medium of sensation.
" The impressions made upon the senses furnish," he says,
*' the occasions on which we form," i, c. originally, " the
* Vide Edia. Encyc. — article Metaphysics^ p. 90.
136 MISTAKES COMMITTED
notion of sounds, smells, flavours, colours, &c," This
language necessarily implies, that we have notions of these
qualities distinct from the sensations which they produce.
It has been shown, however, that the senses of hearing,
smelling, tasting, &c. give us no knowledge even of the
existence of external bodies ; and far less of those quali-
ties which occasion the sensations to which we refer.
Even in adult years, we have no notions of these quali-
ties ; we can have none; We have, indeed, a full con-
viction, derived from another source, that there is some-
thing external, which occasions these sensations. But the
notions to which Mr. Stewart refers, as being the result of
impressions upon the senses, and of which he seems to
have mistaken the nature, are notions of the sensations
themselves, and not of the qualities which awaken them.
When we think of fragrance in a rose, for instance, what
notion have we, but of the sensation it produces ? Having
learned, indeed, the existence of the rose, and found that,
in a certain relation to it, the sensation of fragrance is
excited, we believe there is something in the rose which
awakens it ; but it is an abuse of language to call this
behef a notion of the quality.
The second remark relates to Mr. Stewart's assertion,
that ^many of our ideas cannot be traced to conscious-
ness.* This is doubtless true, in a certain sense, yet it is
by no means distinctly explained by Mr. Stewart, nor
does it appear to be generally understood. Mr. Stewart
seems to regard consciousness as a power by which the
mind, so to speak, inspects itself — its various thoughts and
feelings ; or as the act of inspection : and he would seem
to mean that, when the mind looks within, it finds the no-
tions to which he refers already there ; so that their origin
cannot be ascribed either to the power, or the exercise of
consciousness. It is, however, a necessary consequence
of his doctrine, concerning consciousness, that the know-
ledge of our notions, though not perhaps the notions them-
selves, must be traced to consciousness. Notions, or
ideas, might have existed in the mind, according to this
■■• Vide Philosophical Essays, Chap. ii.
BY MR. STEWART. 137
system, while we knew it not, if God had not added to
our other mental faculties, the supposed power of con-
sciousness ! Who can believe it ? If consciousness, on
the other hand, be a general term, comprehending the
whole of our mental states, so that the consciousness of
the moment is the state — the thought, or feeling — of the
moment ; it is obviously absurd not only to trace some, as
Mr. Stewart says, but to trace any, of our notions to con-
sciousness ; for that would be to trace the notion to the
notion. Our notions must be traced to the circumstances
in which the mind is placed, in connexion with the nature
of the mind itself, as formed to become the subject of
certain ideas in those circumstances. A certain sensation
is instantly followed by the notion of something without,
as the cause of it ; in this case the notion may be traced
to the sensation ; though it is, as Mr. Stewart says, rather
the occasion than the cause of it — that cause being, pro-
perly speaking, in the constitution of the mind itself.
Thirdly, the most serious mistake which Mr. Stewart
has committed, is the denial, that many of the notions,
into the origin of which he inquires, are subjects of con-
sciousness. It is a mistake, produced by the opinion en-
tertained by him, and Dr. Reid, that we know the primary
qualities of matter, as they are in themselves, so that the
notions we form of them are essentially different from
those which we entertain with regard to the secondary
qualities. He says of many of the simple notions, which
in consequence of prior sensations we are led to form,
that " they bear no resemblance to any thing of which
we are conscious within ourselves" — that " they are not
subjects of consciousness ;" z. e, in effect, that they are
not mental states, or feelings, or operations ; for if they
are, they must be subjects of consciousness, according to
Mr. Stewart's own statement, that *' consciousness is an
inseparable concomitant of all the present operations of
the mind." Indeed, the manner in which he speaks with
regard to consciousness in general, in the second chapter
of his Philosophical Essays, appears to me peculiarly dark
and objectionable. " From consciousness we derive," he
18
138 MISTAKES OF MR. STEWART.
States " all our notions of the faculties and operations of
the mind. In analyzing them, we arrive at certain simple
notions, or ideas ; and these," he adds, '^ form the only
direct and appropriate subjects of consciousness, in the
strict acceptation of that word." If this statement be
correct, none of our feelings are subjects of consciousness.
Simple notions, or ideas only, are to be thus denominated ;
and not even the whole of them — notions of extension r
and figure, are expressly excluded. And of such notions,
though they are, according to Mr. Stewart's own philoso-
phy, operations of the mind, or as much states of the
mind, as sensations .themselves, he yet maintains, that they
bear no resemblance to any thing of which the mind is
conscious !! Now, as few things can be more manifest
than that notions of extension, &c. constitute a part of
the consciousness of the mind ; or that they are, in Mr.
Stewart's phraseology, the things of which the mind is
conscious, it seems to me impossible to account for the
manner in which Mr. Stewart writes, without supposing
that he has unconsciously identified the quality of exten-
sion which is without the mind, with the notion of exten-
sion which is in the mind.
This mistake, for such I believe it to be, is visible in the
whole of what Mr. Stewart has written on this subject.
" Sensations," he says, " furnish the occasions on which
the notions of extension, &c. arise in the mind ;" which
notions, he tells us, " are not the subjects of conscious-
ness ;" — " resemble nothing of which the mind is con-
scious." On the same ground he might deny that our no-
tions, as he calls them, of any of the objects of sense, are
subjects of consciousness. His language, with regard to
them, is precisely similar. " Impressions made by exter-
nal objects upon the organs of sense, furnish the occasions
on which the notions of colours, sounds, tastes, &c. arise
in the mind." Now why does he not apply his doctrine
here also ? Why does he not say that the notions of
sounds, colours, &c. are not subjects of consciousness ?
There is no conceivable reason why the notion, in the
latter case, should be a subject of consciousness, and in
CONSCIOUSNESS THE BOUNDARY OF KNOWLEDGE. 139
the former case not. The probability is, that Mr. Stewart
did not confound so completely the notion of sounds, co-
lours, &c. with the external cause, as the notion of exten"
sion ; and hence the difference in his statements.
These remarks will prepare the reader, not indeed to
adopt the doctrine which Mr. Stewart attributes to Mr.
Locke, viz. that consciousness is exclusively the source of
all our knowledge, but to admit that knowledge cannot
extend beyond the bounds of consciousness. External
objects make impressions upon the organs of sense; these
impressions are followed by sensations ; and these sensa-
tions, at least some of them, are attended with the concep-
tion of something external as the cause of them. Now
what is known here, let me ask, but our consciousness ?
We know the sensation we experience in a particular case ;
but that is our consciousness. We refer the sensation to
an external object : but that reference again being a state,
or, as Dr. Reid would say, -an operation of mind, is our con-
sciousness. We form a notion, it may be, of the object
which awakened the sensation ; but still that notion is our
consciousness. However clear the notion of any thing ex-
ternal may be, it is still only a notion ; it is not the quality
itself; it cannot, in the nature of the case, bear the least
resemblance to it. We know nothing, we can know
nothing, of external objects, but that they occasion certain
sensations, notions, or ideas ; i. e. that they are the occa-
sions of particular states of consciousness. Should it be
objected that this is not to know the objects themselves, I
answer, that it is knowledge with which, however, we must
be satisfied, since the hope of attaining any other is per-
fectly delusive. To affirm that we possess any knowledge
of external objects, which does not resemble any thing of
which the mind is conscious, is to confound the cause and
the effect ; it is to say, in effect, eitlier that knowledge is
out of the mind, or that external objects are in it.
Thus sensation, though one of the lowest of the mental
powers, being possessed by man in common with brutes —
some species of which are distinguished by an acuteness
and extent of the sensitive powers, in some of the organs
14() FIRST CLASS OF SENSATIONS.
which were never possessed by man hi any stage or period
of his existence — is that power which connects us with the
external world. ^' It is the germ of intellect, and the ave-
nue to knowledge." " In the order of feelings called sen-
sations," says Dr. Brown," we find the rude elements of all
our knowledge — the materials on which the mind is ever
operating, and without which, it seems to us almost impos-
sible to conceive that it could ever have operated at all, or
could, even in its absolute inactivity, have been conscious
of its own inert existence."*
Having made these general remarks with reference to the
nature of sensation, we proceed to the classification of our
sensations. It has been already observed, that it is better
to arrange those together which are received through the
medium of the same organ. In conformity with this pro-
posed plan of proceeding, let us go on to consider those
sensations which are received through the medium of the
organ of smell.
Class I. — Sensations of Smell.
It will be advisable to consider,
I. The organ of smell.
II. The sensations which are received by means of this
organ.
III. The properties of external bodies, by which these sen-
sations are excited.
IV. The knowledge which the mind derives from them.
I. We are to consider the organ of smell. This consists,
as it is well known, in a set of nerves distributed through
the delicate and very sensible mucous membrane which
lines the cavities of the nostrils, and the sinuses with which
they communicate. They arise, we are told, from the brain,
in a triangular form ; and, passing over the frontal bone,
are conducted to each side of the nostrils, and spread out
^ Vol. I. p. 399.
THE SENSATIONS RECEIVED, &.C. 141
in numerous and minute ramifications on the membrane
referred to above. The whole of this delicate organization
is defended by the bones of the nose, which are admirably
adapted to preserve it from injury, and to assist in speech
and respiration.
11. The sensations which are received by means of this
organ. When this organ is affected by a cause, and in a
manner, the nature of which eludes our researches, a cer-
tain state of mind is produced, varying with the nature of
the cause from which it results ; this state of mind we call
the sensation of smell. It is impossible to define or to de-
scribe it ; all the simple and original feelings of our nature
must be experienced in order to be known. How it comes
to pass that this peculiar mental affection should be inva-
riably subsequent to the organic change, and what is the
nature of the connexion which" exists between the two,
philosophy is totally unable to explain. We have nothing
more to say, than that such is the constitution of our na-
ture, which is only another phrase for the will and appoint-
ment of God.
The sensations received by this sense are numerous and
diversified. When we compare them together, we can
perceive very few resemblances, or contrarieties, or, indeed,
relations of any kind between them. They differ so much
from each other, as scarcely to admit of classification ;
though we have a few generic terms, such as sweet, stink-
ing, musty, &c. For the most part, however, we are con-
strained to designate them by proper names, according to
the causes which produced them ; " such as the smell of a
rose, of a jessamine, (fee." With regard to the terms by
which the modifications of this class of sensations are dis-
tinguished, it has been well observed " that they are few,
and often such as were primarily applicable to other classes
of sensations. There appears a kind of borrowing system ,
— a system of mutual transfer of signs, to denote ideas of
sensation ; in consequence of which, language, first appli-
cable to one, is rendered as applicable to another. Thus
we speak of a sweet smell, and a sour smell ; but the terms
sweetness and sourness are applicable to the sensations of
taste. We also speak of a sharp or a pungent smell ; but
142 FIRST CLASS OP SEN3ATIOXS.
these are terms first applied to the sense of touch, though,
at the same time, they convey ideas that are clear and in-
telligible. This poverty of terms with reference to the dif-
ferent sensations of which we are conscious, is not to be
regretted ; for if there were distinct terms appropriated to
each distinct sensation, we should need a dictionary for
the terms of every sense, and the signs of language would
be infinite. They are, however, sufficient for the common
purposes of life, and for scientific investigation."
Most of the sensations received by means of this sense,
are naturally agreeable or disagreeable. It is imagined by
some writers, that none of them are originally indifferent, —
a point on which it is impossible to speak with any degree
of well-founded certainty. Some of the causes which pro-
duce them, are most powerful in their operation; and
others are even fatal by their influence upon the lungs.
The sense of smell is far from being an unimportant part
of our mental constitution. It assists us in the selection of
food, apprising us of the existence of qualities which might
prove injurious to us. It guards us against an atmosphere,
impregnated with vapours, which might extinguish life. It
contributes its share to the general happiness of the human
race — and by no means an inconsiderable share, in con-
sequence of the numerous sources of gratification. " The
fragrance of the fields," says Dr. Brown, " enters largely
into that obscure, but delightful group of images, which
rise in our minds on the mere names of spring, summer, the
country ; and seems to represent the very forms of ethereal
beauty, as if it were the very breath of heaven itself. If
we imagine all the innumerable flowers which nature pours
out, like a tribute of incense to the God who is adorninor
her, again to be stripped, in a single moment, of their odour,
though they were to retain all their bright diversities of
colouring, it would seem as if they were deprived of a spi-
rit which animates them ; how cold and dead would they
instantly become, — and how much should we lose of that
vernal joy, which renders the season of blossoms almost a
new life to ourselves."*
-■^ Vol. I. p. 449.
THE PROPERTIES WHICH PRODUCE THEM. 143
III. The properties of external bodies which produce
these sensations, are generally denominated odours; the
term, however, when used in reference to properties, con-
veys no definite idea. Minute particles, called effluvia, are
thrown off from certain bodies which are said, on that ac-
count, to be odoriferous. These particles, as it has been
imagined, repel each other, and so become widely diffused
in the atmosphere ; and, by being drawn into the nostrils
along with the air, produce the sensations of which we have
spoken. And as the effluvia is thus scattered in the air,
"there is manifest appearance of design," says Dr. Reid,
" in placing the organ of smell in the inside of that canal,
through which the air is continually passing in inspiration
and expiration."
That the sensation of smell is actually produced by efflu-
via thus emitted by the odoriferous body, is not a mere hypo-
thesis ; it is capable of direct proof. In some cases we see
the particles (as of snuff) from which the sensation results ;
and in others there can be no doubt that effluvia is thrown
off, and excites the sensation. Cover a rose, for instance,
with a glass receiver, and no sensation of smell will be ex-
perienced. The glass is impervious to the particles of
matter which the rose throws off; hence it can no longer
be perceived by this sense. It appears from this circum-
stance, that the effluvia of bodies must be inferior, in point
of minuteness, to the particles of light ; yet that they arc
inconceivably small, is established by well-known facts^
A grain of musk will diffuse its odour for years, without any
perceptible diminution of its weight ; and a box, in which
it was once enclosed, although frequently washed, will re-
tain the scent of it for years.
It has been thought by some, that there is no body which
does not emit this effluvia, though our organs are not suffi-
ciently delicate to be, in all cases affected by it. The sup-
position is, to a certain degree, sanctioned by the fact, that
blood-hounds, &.C. are sensible of odours, when we per-
ceive none.
Some confusion of ideas on this subject, has been pro-
duced bv the circumstance that the odour, and the result-
144 riRST CLASS OF SENSATIONS.
ing sensation, have the same name. Thus the phrase, the
smell of a rose, designates a certain quality in the rose, and
a certain state or affection of mind. It will be unneces-
sary, after the statements already made, to guard the reader
against supposing, with the vulgar, that there is any thing
in the rose which resembles the sensation; or, with the
sceptical philosopher, that there is nothing in the rose to
originate the sensation. He will regard the odour and the
sensation, as sustaining the relation of cause and effect;
but as bearing no more resemblance to each other, than a
blow with a stick, to the pain which results from it.*
IV. The knowledge which the mind derives from these
sensations. It will be necessary here to distinguish between
different periods of our existence, or to state the amount of
information which is conveyed to us by them at present^
and that which was communicated by them originally.
It is not to be doubted that the sensation which results
from the action of the effluvia of a rose upon the organ,
conveys to us now an assurance both of the existence and
the presence of that flower. But was it so originally ?
Nothing can be more manifest than that it ought to have
been so, if perception be an original power of the mind,
like sensation — a power given to us for the express purpose
of obtaining, through the medium of our sensations, a
knowledge of external objects, and of their properties. In
that case, it is certain that the very first time we experi-
enced the sensation of which we are speaking, we should
have been able to say, in the same sense, and with as much
confidence as now, " I smell a rose." But is it so in point
of fact? I admit that it is impossible to ascertain, with per-
fect accuracy, what is passing in the mind of the infant
metaphysician ; but there is no reason whatever to induce
the opinion, that the knowledge which the sensations of
smell communicate to us at present^ is enjoyed, previously
to experience, by him : the supposition that it is so, is
utterly unlikely. There is nothing more in the sensation
produced by the odour of a rose, to lead to the idea of an
* Firfe, on this subject, Reid's Inquiry, pp. 65, 66.
tHE KNOWLEDGE DERIVED TROM THEM. 145
external cause, than in the feelings of joy or sorrow. " Had
we been endowed with the sense of smell," says Dr. Brown,
" and with no other sense whatever, the sensations of this
class would have been simple feelings of pleasure, or pain,
which we should as little have ascribed to any external
cause, as any of our spontaneous feelings of joy or sorrow."
— "As a mere change in the form of our being, the sensa-
tion of fragrance may suggest to us the necessity of some
cause, or antecedent of the change. But it is far from sup-
posing the necessity of a corporeal cause." — " We class
our sensations of smell, as sensations, because we have pre-
viously believed in a system of external things," (they do
not give us this belief,) " and have found, by universal expe-
rience, that the introduction of some new external body,
either felt or seen by us, was the antecedent of those states
of mind which we denominate sensations of smell, and not
of those internal pains or pleasures, which we therefore
distinguish from them, as the spontaneous affections of our
own independent mind."*
However strange it may appear, since it is totally incon*
sistent with the distinction he attempts to establish be*
tween sensation and perception, it is yet the fact, that Dr.
Reid has expressed himself, on this point, in terms precisely
similar to those which are employed by Dr. Brown. " By
the original constitution of our nature," says he, in his In*
quiry, " we are both led to believe that there is a perma-
nent cause of the sensation, and prompted to seek after
it; and experience determines us to place it in the rose."
Again, "Let us therefore suppose a person beginning to
exercise the sense of smelling; a little experience will dis-
cover to him, that the nose is the organ of this sense, and
that the air, or something in the air, is a medium of it. And
finding, by further experience^ that when a rose is near, he
has a certain sensation ; when it is removed, the sensation
is gone; he finds" (that is, judges) " a connexion in nature
between the rose and the sensation. The rose is consi-
dered as a cause, occasion, or antecedent of the sensation ;
•^ Vol. I. pp. 444, 5,
19
146 SECOND CLASS OF SENSATIONS^
the sensation is an effect or consequent of the presence of
the rose ; they are associated in the mind, and constantly
found conjoined in the imagination."* How useless a fa-
culty then is this imagined power of perception, according
to Dr. Reid's own statements ! It is given us, as he alleges,
for the express purpose of discovering the existence and
qualities of the bodies by which our sensations are produ-
ced ; and yet it is not the power of perception after all, but
the faculty of judgment, enlightened by experience, which
leads us to place the cause of our sensations, and Dr. Reid
himself declares this, in the external bodies from which they
flow.
Class II. — Sensations of Taste.
1. The organs of this sense are certain nervous papillae,
^vhose principal seat is the surface of the tongue, and espe-
cially its sides and apex, which constitute a most conve-
nient situation for these nerves, inasmuch as by the flexibi-
lity of that member, they may be easily brought into con-
tact with the substance to be tasted. It is probable, also,
that similar papillae exist within the substance of the mucous
membrane which lines the palate, as we find that the sen-
sation of taste is increased when the sapid body is pressed
between the palate and the tongue.
" It is with manifest propriety," says Dr. Reid, " that the
organ of this sense guards the entrance of the alimentary
canal, as that of smell the entrance of the canal for respi-
ration. And from these organs being placed in such
manner, that every thing that, enters into the stomach
must undergo the scrutiny of both senses, it is plain that
they were intended by nature to distinguish wholesome
food, from that which is noxious. The brutes have no
other means of choosing their food; nor would mankind,
in the savage state. And it is very probable, that the smell
and taste, no way vitiated by luxury or bad habits, would
rarely, if ever, lead us to a wrong choice of food among the
productions of nature."! Dr. Brown thinks, on the con-
* Inquiry, p. 75, pp. 67, G8. Vide also Stewart, Vol. I. p. 100.
t Inquiry, p. 82.
&ENSATIONS or TASTE. 147
trary, that there is no reason to suppose that the senses
teach us what is wholesome and noxious primarily, and of
themselves ; though, in the circumstances in which man is
brought up, having no necessity to appeal to the mere dis-
crimination of his own independent organs, he admits, with
some little appearance of self-contradiction, that it is not
easy to say how far his primary instincts, — if it had not been
the high and inevitable dignity of his nature to rise above
them, — might, of themselves, have operated as directors.
" But whatever their primary influence may be, the secon-
dary influence of his organs of taste and smell," he adds,
" are not less important. When we have once completely
learned what substances are noxious, and what are salutary,
we then, however similar they may be in their other sensi-
ble qualities, discriminate these as often as they are again
presented to us, by that taste, or smell, which they affect
with different sensations ; and our acquired knowledge has
thus ultimately, in guiding our choice, the force and viva-
city of an original instinct."*
II. With the nature of the sensations received by means
of this sense, we are well acquainted ; though, as in the
case of smell, they admit neither of definition, nor of de-
scription. A celebrated naturalist has endeavoured to
show that at least sixteen different simple tastes exist.
These admit, however, of an almost boundless number of
modifications, from their different combinations — their va-
rious degrees of intensity and weakness — the quickness or
slowness with which they arise on the contact of the nerve,
and the sapid body — the time of their continuance — and
the different parts of the organ which they principally
affect.
It is an excellent observation of Dr. Reid, that " nature
seems studiously to have set bounds to the pleasures and
pains we have by the senses of smell and of taste, and to
have confined them within very narrow limits, that we
might not place any part of our happiness in them, there
being hardly any smell or taste so disagreeable, that use
* Vol.1, pp. 451, 2.
148 CLASS II.
will not make it tolerable, and at last, perhaps, agreeable ;
nor any so agreeable, as not to lose its relish by constant
use. Neither is there any pleasure or pain of these senses
which is not introduced, or followed, by some degree of its
contrary, which nearly balances it. So that we may here
apply the beautiful allegory of Socrates ; that although
pleasure and pain are contrary in their nature, and their
faces look different ways, yet Jupiter hath tied them so to-
gether, that he that lays' hold of the one, draws the other
along with it."*
These statements of Dr. Reid afford an easy explanation
of what are called acquired tastes.
III. The properties of external bodies which produce
these sensations are called flavours ; but what they are in
themselves we know not. Dr. Reid thinks it probable, that
every thing that affects the taste is soluble in the saliva.
*' It is not conceivable," he says, " how any thing should
enter readily, and of its own accord, as it were, into the
pores of the tongue, palate, and fauces, unless it had some
chemical affinity to that liquor, with which these pores are
always replete." " It is therefore," he adds, " an admirable
contrivance of nature, that the organs of taste should
always be moist with a liquor which is so universal a
menstruum."
IV. With regard to the knowledge which the mind de-
rives from these sensations, similar remarks may be made
with those which were suggested in reference to the sensa-
tions of smell ; it is unnecessary to repeat them. Suffice
it to say, with Dr, Brown, that " though, in our present
state of knowledge, we immediately refer them to some-
thing which is bitter, or sweet, or acrid, or of some other
denomination of sapid quality, and we have no hesitation
in classing them as sensations — not as feelings, which
arise in the mind, from its own independent constitution ;
yet if we attend sufficiently to the feeling which arises in
the case of taste, we shall find, however immediate the
reference to a sapid body may be, that it is truly successive
•^ Inquiry, p. 84.
SENSATIONS OP HEARING. 149
to the simple sensation, and is the mere suggestion of
former experience, when a body previously recognised by
us as an external substance, was applied to our organ of
taste — in the same manner as when we see ashes and dying
embers, we immediately infer some previous combustion,
which we could not have inferred, if combustion itself had
been a phainomenon altogether unknown to us."*
Class III. — Sensations of Hearing.
I. The organs. These consist, in man, of the external
ear, or auricle, and an internal bony cavity, with nume-
rous circular and winding passages, formed within the
temporal bone. These two distinct parts are separated
by a strong transparent membrane, stretched across the
passage, called the tympanum, or drum of the ear. By
this membrane, the vibrations of the air are received from
the external ear, and are transmitted through the canals
or passages called the labyrinth, to the auditory nerve,
which is formed into a beautiful expansion, not unlike the
expansion of the optic nerve on the retina. The auditory
nerve conveys the impression to the brain, and the imme-
diate result is,
II. The sensation of hearing, the nature of which is
known to all who are not destitute of the faculty itself.
The prodigious variety of this class of sensations is not
less apparent than in the case of those which have been
already considered. The ear, we are told, is " capable of
distinguishing four or five hundred variations of tone in
sound, and probably as many different degrees of strength ;
by combining these we have above twenty thousand sim-
ple sounds, that differ in tone, or in strength, supposing
every tone to be perfect.'' The same writer, however, justly
observes, that the same tone is susceptible of a boundless
variety of modifications. A flute, a violin, a hautboy, and
a French horn, may all sound the same tone, and be easily
distinguishable ; nay, if twenty human voices sound the
♦ Vol. I. pp. 446, 7.
150 CLASS III.
same note, there will still be some difference. And even
the same voice, while it retains its proper distinctions, may
be varied many ways, by sickness or health, youth or age,
leanness or fatness, good or bad humour."*
The value of this sense will appear when it is recollected,
that to it we are indirectly indebted for the existence of
verbal language ; the importance of which, whether we
consider it as the medium of the reciprocal expression of
present feelings in the domestic circle, or reflect upon the
benefit which it yields to man as an intellectual, and a
moral being, must be regarded as incalculable.
III. The cause of these sensations, is the air thrown into
a tremulous, or vibratory state, by the motion of a sono-
rous body ; or by any other means, by which this wave-
like motion can be produced. When elastic bodies are
struck, a vibratory motion is imparted to the bodies them-
selves, and communicated by them to the surrounding at-
mosphere. Every one has observed the concentric circles
which are formed in a pool of water by the action of a
stone thrown into it. It is probable that similar circles,
or waves of air, are produced by the causes mentioned
above ; and, if the ear be situated within the reach of these
circles, a sensation of sound will be produced, vivid in pro-
portion to the density of the wave, or vibration.
IV. The knowledge which is derived through the me-
dium of this sense is obviously not original and instinctive ;
when, at least, we throw out of our view the sensations
themselves. We judge at present, and generally with tole-
rable accuracy, of the distance of the sonorous body, and
of the direction in which it lies ; but the sense of hearing
originally gives us no information on these points. All
this is admitted by Dr. Reid himself. " That such a noise
is in the street, such another in the room above me ; that
this is a knock at my door ; that, a person walking up-stairs,
— is probably learned by experience. Previous to expe-
rience, we should as little know whether a sound came
from the right or left, from above or below, from a great or
'•* Vide Reid's Inquiry, p. 89.
SENSATIONS OF HEARING. B^ K I V SH SIT
Jl small distance ; as we should know whe
sound of a drum, or a bell, or a cart. Nature^^^lil
is frugal in her operations, and will not be at the expense
of a particular instinct, to give us that knowledge which
experience will soon produce, by means of a general prin-
ciple of human nature."*
We need not hesitate to proceed a step beyond Dr.
Reid, and to say, that the sensations of sound would not
have suggested to us the notion of any thing external to
the mind. " In hearing," says Dr. Brown, " as in taste
and smell, we do not derive from its sensations our know-
ledge of things external ; but in consequence of our know-
ledge of things external, we regard these feelings as sensa-
tions, in the common philosophic meaning of the term."t
Mr. Stewart even acknowledges that the sense of hearing
gives us no knowledge of any thing without us. " By
means of the senses of hearing, and smelling, we never
could have arrived," he says, " at the knowledge of the
existence of things external. All that we could possibly
have inferred from our occasional sensations of smell and
sound, would have been, that there existed some unknown
cause by which they were produced."! Mr. Stewart should
then tell us what perception, by the sense of smell, is.
According to his own statements, there is originally none.
If we can ever be said to perceive by this sense, we do it,
on his principles, as the result of experience ; that is, wc
learn to perceive. And what is the difference, in point
of absurdity, between the two assertions, (if perception be
an original power of the mind,) " we learn to perceive ;"
and " we learn to feel ?"
How then, it may be asked, do we learn to judge of
distance, direction, &c. ? The answer is, that there are
original diversities in the sensations received by this or-
gan, corresponding with the magnitude, direction, dis-
tance, &c. of the sonorous body ; a little experience will,
consequently, enable us to form a judgment concerning
its size, the quarter from whence it proceeds, &c. ; which
- Inquiry, p. 90. + Vol. I. p. 453. + Vol. I. p. 100.
15:^
CLASS IV
judgment is susceptible, through practice, of indefinite
improvement.
It is this sense which renders us capable of the plea-
sures of harmony ; though there is a peculiarity connected
with what is called a musical ear, for some excellent re-
marks upon which, the reader is referred to Dr. Brown,
Vol. I. p. 469—481.
Class IV. — Sensations of Touch,
I. The organ. A broad line of distinction exists be-
tween the sense of touch, and those which have been pre-
viously considered, in reference to the organ. In tasting,
and smelling, the organ is one ; and even in hearing,
there is merely a duplicate ; and the organs of these
senses occupy particular situations in the body ; but the
sense, or rather the organ of touch, is diffused all over the
surface of the body. The nervous papillae of the skin
appear to be the inlets of that class of sensations, which
are now to be considered.
It has been thought by some that there is naturally
greater delicacy, or sensitiveness, in those nerves which
are distributed to the hands, and fingers, than has been
imparted to any others. The opinion, however, rests on
no solid ground. Our sensations of touch, when the ob-
ject comes in contact with the hands, and fingers, are
doubtless now more distinct than when it touches any
other part of the* body. That circumstance is, however,
to be ascribed to the frequent exercise of the hands, and
fingers, in consequence of the position they occupy in the
system ; by which exercise, increased delicacy, according
to a law of our physical constitution, is obtained. Had
it been as convenient to employ the toe as the hand,
when it became necessary to examine any object by the
sense of touch— and had the toe been employed for that
purpose — there is no reason to doubt that the toe would
have become as sensitive as the finjjer.
II. The sensations, &c. I shall very briefly refer to
these, together with the qualities from which, as it is
thought, they result ; and then proceed to the remaining
SENSATIONS OF TOUCH. 153
topic of inquiry concerning this sense ; as it appears to
be the plan best adapted for exhibiting the great and im-
portant difference of opinion which exists amongst phi-
losophers in relation to this most difficult part of mental
science. Referring to the other senses, Dr. Reid says,
" they exhibit only one kind of sensation, and thereby in-
dicate only one quality in bodies. By the ear we perceive
sounds, and nothing else ; by the palate, tastes ; by the
nose, odours ;" and, we may add, by the eye, colours.
" These qualities," continues Dr. Reid, " are all likewise
of one order, being all secondary qualities :" (we have
seen that there is no perception by the nose, the palate,
or the ear,) " whereas by touch we perceive not one
quality only, but many, and those ofvery different kinds."*
Dr. Reid refers here to the different qualities perceived
(i. e, as he supposed) by the sense of touch, to show that
the sensations received by it, as the medium, are greatly
more diversified than those of any other sense. And even
when we have thrown out of our consideration those
which Dr. Brown withdraws from this sense, it cannot be
doubted, that they differ more generically from each
other, than any of the sensations of smell, or hearing, or
taste, or sight.
III. The qualities of external bodies to which we owe,
according to Dr. Reid, these sensations, are, first, heat and
cold. The latter is now regarded by philosophers as the
mere negation, or absence of heat. Opinion has con-
siderably varied with regard to the true nature of heat,
considered as a quality, or a cause of sensation. It was
formerly thought to consist in a certain vibration of the
particles of the heated body. Of late years it has been
regarded as a fluid generally diffused through nature, and
accumulated in the heated body. This is a question be-
longing to physical science, with which we have no con-
cern.
In addition to heat and cold. Dr. Reid specifies hard-
ness and softness, roughness and smoothness, figure,
* Inquiry, p. 99.
20
154 CLAb'S iV.
solidity, motion, and extension, as qualities which act
upon our sense of touch. In examining the correctness
of this doctrine, it will be well to avail ourselves of the
statements of Dr. Brown, who has made, we think, a suc-
cessful effort to resolve the whole of the qualities thus
enumerated into different modifications of resistance and
extension. " Hardness and softness," says he, " are ex-
pressive only of greater or less resistance ; roughness is
irregularity of resistance, when there are intervals between
the points that resist, or when some of these points pro-
ject beyond others'' (that is, it is — as Mr. Welsh shows,
in a most ingenious attempt to resolve all the properties
of bodies into attraction and repulsion — the particular
position of the particles of substances, occasioned by
their (natural) atJinities and repulsions ;) " smoothness is
complete uniformity of resistance ; liquidity, viscidity, are
expressive of certain degrees of yieldingness to our efforts,
which solidity excludes, unless when the effort employed
is violent." " All, in short," he adds, " are only different
species, or degrees, of that which we term resistance,
whatever it may be, which impedes our continued effort,
and impedes it variously, as the substances without are
themselves various." With regard to the other qualities
mentioned by Dr. Reid, he thus writes : — " Figure is the
boundary of extension, as magnitude is that which it com-
prehends ; and divisibility, if we consider the apparent
continuity of the parts which we divide, is only extension
under another name. If we except motion, therefore,
which is not permanent, but accidental, — and the know-
ledge of which is evidently secondary to the knowledge
which we acquire of our organs of sense, before which
the objects are said to move, — and secondary in a much
more important sense, as resulting, not from any direct
immediate organic state of one particular moment, but
from a comparison of sensations past and present, — all
the information which we are supposed to receive primarily
and directly from touch, relates to modifications of resist-
ance and extension.*
* Vol. I. pp. 487,8.
SENSATIONS OP TOUCH. 155
All the sensations then which these qualities, or any
others, which act upon the organs of touch produce, may
be included under sensations of heat and cold : of punc-
ture and laceration ; of hardness and extension.
IV. The knowledge which these sensations convey. The
terms heat and cold, denote both the sensation and the
quality. The former, as Dr. Reid says, is perfectly known ;
it neither is, nor can be, any thing else than it is felt to be.
The cause of the sensation, or the quality, is unknown.
Whatever be the nature of that quality of bodies which we
call heat, he elsewhere tells us, it cannot ni the least de-
gree resemble the sensation of heat. To suppose a re-
semblance, he assures us, would be as absurd as to imagine
that the pain of the gout resembles a square or a triangle.
He admits also further, that even in adult age, it is only
known relatively, i. e, as the unknown external cause of a
certain well-known sensation. When, tlierefore, we say,
" I perceive that the body is hot," what can be meant
more than that it gives us the sensation of heat ? Yet on
Dr. Reid's principles, it must imply something more. It is
manifest, however, that even this knowledge, imperfect as
it is, is more than we derive from the sensation originally.
Independently of all others, it would merely suggest the
idea of a cause, not of a cause ad extra. It is unnecessary
to repeat remarks which have been made with reference to
the other senses. " It is quite evident," says Dr. Brown,
" that in classing our warmth or chillness as a sensation,
and not as a feeling that has arisen spontaneously in the
mind, we are influenced by that experience which has pre-
viously given us the belief of things external, at least of
our own corporeal frame ; and that, if we had been unsus-
ceptible of any other sensations than those of heat and
cold, we should as little have believed them to arise di-
rectly from a corporeal cause, as any of our feelings of joy
or sorrow."*
Similar remarks may be made with reference to the
sensations resulting from puncture and laceration. Even
* P. 487.
15(3 CLASS IV.
at present, as we had occasion to observe formerly, they do
not invariably apprise us of the particular part of the body
injured ; and originally, they would have given us no con-
ception even of the existence of the body.
There are, however, as it is generally imagined at least,
other sensations, — the sensations of hardness and exten-
sion, received by means of this sense, and which give us,
of themselves, and originally, the knowledge of matter,
and of its primary qualities. Indeed, Dr. Reid expressly
assures us, that by the writers who had preceded him, it
had been "always taken for granted that the ideas of
hardness, extension, figure, and motion, enter into the
mind by the sense of touch, in the same manner as the
sensations of sound and smell do by the ear and nose."*
This error is too flagrant to need any lengthened refuta-
tion. There is an essential difference between a sensa-
tion, and an idea or a notion. And no one now, I imagine,
believes that an idea, or a notion, is in any case the direct
result of the action of an external body upon an organ of
sense. That action produces a sensation — and a sensa-
tion only : the sensation may become the immediate ante-
cedent to an idea, in no respect resembling itself, or we
may form a notion of. the sensation after it has subsided ;
but the idea or notion must not be transformed into a sen-
sation, by being represented as flowing directly from a
certain impression upon an organ of sense.
Dr. Reid has very carefully distinguished between the
sensations of hardness, extension, &c., which, as he con-
ceives, are received by the sense of touch ; and the notions
to which, as he further conceives, they give rise. " There
is," says he, " no doubt, a sensation by which we perceive
a body to be hard or soft. This sensation of hardness,"
he adds, "may easily be had, by pressing one's hand
against the table, and attending to the feeling that ensues,
setting aside, as much as possible, all thought of the table
and its qualities, or of any external thing." And, having
stated the difficulty of attending to this sensation, he pro-
* Inquiry, p. 121.
SENSATIONS OF TOUCH. 157
ceeds to declare that a philosopher must vanquish it, or
that it will be impossible for him to reason justly upon the
subject.*
The foregoing quotation is given for the sole purpose of
showing that Dr. Reid did not regard our notions of hard-
ness and resistance, as constituting, if we may so speak,
sensations of touch. In this we think he was right. His
error, as we imagine, consisted in regarding, what he calls
sensations of hardness and extension, as sensations of
touchy — and so, in making our conception and belief of an
external world, to arise, by a law of our nature, out of the
feelings proper to this sense.
Dr. Brown, on the contrary, considers the feelings of
hardness, or, in other words, of resiBtance, as radically dif-
ferent from the proper sensations of touch ; and as origi-
nating from another source, viz. from the muscular frame,
which is not, he says, " merely a part of the living ma-
chinery of motion, but is also truly an organ of sense."
His statements on this subject deserve our most particu-
lar attention, and are in substance as follows. He com-
mences with the important remark, that the sense of touch
must have a sensation peculiar to itself. Of this it does
not seem possible to doubt. In the case of any of the
senses which have been considered, it may become a
question, what degree of knowledge we gain by means of
the feelings which are peculiar to each ; but that smell
has its peculiar feelings, and hearing, and taste, in hke
manner, all, it is imagined, will admit. It is the same
with regard to the sense of touch. There is a certain state
of mind, which is the invariable consequent of the contact
of an external substance, and any part of the body ; in
the same manner, as there is a certain state of mind con-
nected, originally, with the impression, which the odour
of a rose, for instance, makes upon the olfactory nerves.
The question then is, What is this state of mind ? We
have already seen, that it is not the notion or belief of
hardness and extension. Dr. Reid thinks it is the sensa-
* Inquiry, p. 105.
158 CLASS IV.
tion or feeling of hardness and extension, out of which
arises, he supposes, by intuition, the conception and be-
lief of an external world. Dr. Brown denies that even
the feeling of hardness is the proper sensation of touch ;
and, to ascertain what are the simple original feelings of
this sense, he says, "let us imagine a being endowed with
the sense of touch, and with every other sense and faculty
of the mind, but not with any previous knowledge of his
own corporeal frame, or of other things external ; and let
us suppose a small body of any shape to be pressed, for the
first time, on his open hand. Whatever feeling mere touch
can give of itself, would of course be the same in this case
as now,'''' Now what would this feeling be ? Would it be
the sensation of hnrdncss and extension ? No ; that arises,
at any rate the sensation of hardness arises, when we af-
terward attempt to grasp the body, and the muscular
effort is impeded; a feeling which, as every one may
judge, is essentially different from that which results from
the mere application of the same body to the open palm.
" When 1 move my arm," says Dr. Brown, "without re-
sistance, I am conscious of a certain feeling ; when the
motion is impeded by the presence of an external body, I
am conscious of a different feeling, arising partly, indeed,
from the mere sense of touch in the moving limb com-
pressed, but not consisting merely in this impression, since,
when the same pressure is made by a foreign force, with-
out any muscular effort on my part, my general feeling is
very different.""*'
The proper sensation of touch is not then the feeling
of hardness, extension, &c., as Dr. Reid imagines, since
that feeling is not produced by mere contact. It arises
only when muscular effort is impeded ; and is, therefore, to
be ascribed to the muscular frame. Mr. Welsh has very
accurately distinguished between the simple original
feelings of touch, and others which succeed it. " The
tactual feeling," says he, " upon the pressure of a foreign
substance, is one species of mental state ; the muscular
* Vol. I. p. 501.
SENSATIONS OF TOUCH. 159
sensation, upon having an accustomed movement impeded^
is another ; the notion of an external quality, as extension
or figure, is a third ; and is as easily distinguished from
the second as the first."*
This distinction between the proper feelings of touch,
and the muscular feelings, is of immense importance when
we attempt to estimate the amount of information, con-
cerning external things, which is derived from this sense.
Smelling, tasting and hearing, it is admitted on all hands,
could give us no notion of any thing out of ourselves. Is
then the proper sensation of touch — the feeling which is
produced by mere contact, when there is no impeded
muscular exertion — better adapted to originate it ? I feel
compelled to answer this question in the negative. The
sense of touch does not appear to me more able to origin-
ate the notion of an external world, than the sense of smell.
Jt is impossible for any one to exhibit this sentiment, in a
more luminous point of view than Dr.Reid,howmuch soever
his statements may be at variance with other parts of his
system ; I therefore quote his words. Having represented
the case of a blind man, who has lost all the knowledge
he had gained by the sense of touch, and who is in fact
destitute of all knowledge, he says, " We shall first sup-
pose his body fixed immoveably in one place, and that he
can only have the feelings of touch, by the application of
other bodies to it. Suppose him first to be pricked with a
pin; this will no doubt give him a smart sensation, — he
feels pain, — but what can he infer from it ? Nothing sure
with regard to the existence or figure of a pin" — "Having
had formerly no notion of body, or of extension, the prick
of a pin can give him none."
„ Suppose next, a body not pointed, but blunt, is appli-
ed .to his body, with a force gradually increased until it
bruises him. What has he got by this but another sensa-
tion, or train of sensations, from whence he is able to con-
clude as little as from the former."
" Suppose further, that the body applied to him touches
a larger or lesser part of his body. Can this give him any
* Memoirs, p. 249.
160 CLASS IV.
notion of its extension or dimensions ? To me it seems im-
possible that it should, miless he had some previous notice
of the dimensions and figure of his own body to serve him
as a measure."
The Doctor proceeds in the same way to show, that a
body drawn along his hands, or his face, while they are at
rest — or an effort to move, or the actual movement of any
limb, would give him no notion of space or motion. And
he concludes his statement with the following memorable
words : " Upon the whole it appears, that our philosophers
have imposed upon themselves, and upon us, in pretending
to deduce from sensation, the first origin of our notions of
external existences of space, motion and extension, and all
the primary qualities of bodies, that is, the qualities whereof
we have the most clear and distinct conception."*
Now if our knowledge even of the primary qualities is
not deduced from sensation, how could the Doctor affirm
afterward, as he does, that it is "the business of the senses
to make us feel, and to make us perceive?^"* i, e. in other
words, that it is the business of the senses to put us in pos-
session of knowledge which cannot, after all, be deduced
from sensation !
In opposition to this reasoning, designed to show that
the mere sensations of touch can give us, of themselves, no
more knowledge of resistance and extension — to which, as
we have seen, all the primary qualities, as they are called,
may be reduced — than those of smell, taste, &c., it will be
said, perhaps, that we now appear, at any rate, to perceive
these qualities by the sense of touch — to feel a body to be
hard, large or small, round or square. This is freely ad-
mitted; it does not, however, follow from this, that the
sense of touch of itself, originally, gives us any notion either
of hardness or extension. We now seem to perceive the
distance of bodies by the eye, but the case recorded by
Cheselden, proves, beyond all doubt, that our knowledge
of distance is gained by an act of judgment, not of percep-
tion. It appears impossible, in the very nature of things,
* Vide Inquiry, p. 126—129.
SENSATIONS OP TOUCH. 161
that the mere sense of touch should give us the notion of
hardness. There must exist, on any system, the sensation
of hardness, i. e, the feehng of resistance, in order to the
existence of the notion of hardness. But the sensation of
hardness, or the feeling of resistance, cannot exist where
there is no resistance ; i. e, it cannot arise from mere con-
tact. There must be impeded muscular effort, in order to
the rise of the feeling of resistance ; and the notion of hard-
ness arises out of this latter feeling ; if, indeed, it be any
thing else than a notion of the feeling of resistance, or of
the sensation of hardness itself.
Nor is it less manifest, it is imagined, that the notion of
extension is not conveyed to the mind by the sense of touch.
The argument by which the affirmation has been supported,
must have had its origin in the dark ages ; it cannot endure
the light of the present day. It is as follows. The object
which impresses the organ of touch, covers a portion of
that organ corresponding exactly in size with itself; wc
must therefore perceive by touch, the size and form, the
roundness or squareness of the body. Against this argu-
ment there lie the following objections :
First, it supposes the knowledge of the existence of the
body ; i. e. it supposes the knowledge of an external world,
— for the body is as much external to the mind as is the
sun in the firmament ; in other words, it presupposes the
possession of that knowledge which the sense of touch
was given us, according to these notions, for the express
purpose of obtaining. The statement we are now consider-
ing, most strangely forgets that the infant metaphysician
knows no more that he has a body, than that he is sur-
rounded by forms of inimitable beauty. To gain this
knowledge is the precise difficulty. This first step being
taken, all the subsequent ones are perfectly easy and intel-
ligible ; now our opponents generously leave us to take this
first step in the best way we can.
Secondly, it would not account for the perception of
extension by the sense of touch, even if this difficulty, with
reference to the existence of the body, were surmounted ;
for, as Dr. Brown justly observes, " It is not in our organ of
'21
16:2 CLASS IV.
touch merely, that a certain extent of the nervous extremity
of our sensorial organ is affected. This occurs equally in
every other organ. In the superficial expansion of the
nerves of hearing, smell, taste, for example, itisnota^om^
merely that is affected, but a number of continuous points
precisely as in the superficial organ of touch ; and if, there-
fore, the notion o^ extension in general, or o^ figure^ which
is limited, extension, arose whenever a portion of the ner-
vous expansion was affected in any way, we should derive
these notions as much from a taste, or a smell, or a sound,
as from any of the configurations or affections of our or-
gans of touch,'' — i. e. "we should have square inches, and
half inches, of fragrance and sound."*
Thirdly, it is contradicted by fact ; for, in innumerable
cases, the mere sense of touch does not enable us to judge
of form. If a body, in ever so slight a degree irregular in
form, is pressed upon any part of our tactual organ, we find
ourselves unable, even after all the experience we have had
with regard to objects of touch, to determine with preci-
sion, without using the organ of sight, its magnitude and
figure. The knowledge of form and extension is not then
gained by the sense of touch ; "for if touch were truly the
direct and primary sense of magnitude and form, as hear-
ing is the sense of sound, it should be equally the sense of
every variety of these, as hearing is the sense of every vari-
ety of sound." If there be a single case in which touch
fails to give us the knowledge of form, magnitude, exten-
sion, &c., we may certainly gather from that fact, that the
sense of touch is incapable of itself of imparting this know-
ledge, so that w^herever it exists,' it must be traced to a dif-
ferent source.!
. The amount of what has been said may be thus stated.
Touch must have its peculiar sensation, as well as the
senses of taste, hearing, &c. ; i. e. there is a certain state
of mind which is the direct result of the contact of an ex-
ternal body with any part of the animal frame — that state
of mind is not the notion of hardness and extension ; L e. it
* Vol. I. pp. 505, 6.
t Fide Brown, Vol. I. pp. 508, 9 ; 545, 6.
SENSATIONS OP TOUCH. 163
is not the notion and belief of an external world — it is not
even the sensation of hardness or the feeling of resistance,
— it is merely, in all cases, thekindof feeling which is pro-
duced by the pressure of a body upon the open palm — a
feehng essentially different from the sensation of hardness
or the feeling of resistance. Impeded muscular effort alone
can give rise to this latter feeling, out of which grows the
notion of an external world ; so that touch merely suggests
the hardness and figure of bodies, in consequence of asso-
ciations formed between bodies of different forms and de-
grees of solidity, and the tactual feelings which result from
contact with them — in the same manner as different sen-
sations of vision suggest the distances of bodies.
There still remains for our consideration the important
question, " In what manner do the conception and belief
of things external arise out of impeded muscular effort, or
the feeling of resistance ? Is it by intuition connected with
this feeling, or may the fact be otherwise explained ?" Dr.
Brown contends that our faith in the existence of things
without the mind does not rest upon any peculiar intuition;
that it is to be traced to "that more general intuition by
which we consider a new consequent, in any series of ac-
customed events, as a sign of a new antecedent, and of that
equally general principle of association, by which feelings
that have frequently co-existed flow together, and consti-
tute afterward one complex whole."*
My limits will not allow me to give even the substance
of the statements by which this opinion is defended.! They
display, to great advantage, the unrivalled talents of the
writer ; but I am constrained to say, that I cannot regard
them as perfectly satisfactory. On this most difficult sub-
ject, I am rather disposed to agree with those who ascribe
our belief in the existence of an external world to a pecu-
liar intuition. A body comes in contact with the palm of
the hand — the fingers close upon it — they instinctively press
* Vol. I. p. 508.
t If it should not too much increase the size of this volume, I will give
the substance in a note at the end.
104 CLASS IV.
it — the feeling ol" resistance is experienced ; and that feel-
ing, by a law of the mind, instantly suggests the notion of
something external, and antecedently to all experience, is
referred to it as its cause. There is nothing in the mere
tactual feeling, as we have seen, which appears adapted to
originate the idea of any thing external. Nor does the
muscular feeling seem to me more likely to awaken it. It
is a mere sensation, which will indeed lead to the concep-
tion of a cause^ but which no more involves the notion of
an external cause, than the fragrance of the violet or the
rose.
I am happy to find the sentiments of Mr. Welsh in har-
mony with the statements given above. " By the muscular
feehngs,'' says this writer, " we could not have the idea of
outness ; for, in the case supposed, the little reasoner has
not arrived at the knowledge of his own organ of sensa-
tion, as something extended, and capable of resistance." —
" Without the idea of one material object, we have no
foundation for arriving at the idea of any other. And as
the idea of one such object must be taken for granted in
every theory of the origin of our notions of other material
existences, it seems to follow that this idea, at least, must
be ascribed to some primitive law of our nature.""^
The intuitive belief for which we plead goes no further,
it IS however imagined, than to the bare existence of some-
thing external to us. The magnitude, form, &c. of bodies
are learned, we think, by experience ; and the tactual feel-
ing, being always associated with the muscular feeling,
inasmuch as we must touch what we grasp, suggests at
length, though it did not do it originally, the notion of
hardness, or of a resisting, extended, and external mass.
And if the belief of an external world is founded on intui-
tion, we cannot fail to perceive the absurdity of all attempts
either to support or to overthrow it, by an effort of reason-
ing. To reason in defence of any proposition, is to attempt
to show that it rests upon some self-evident truth — on a
truth, ?'. e, which we are led by our nature, or rather, by
* Memoirs, pp. 247, 8.
SENSATIONS OP SIGHT. 165
that God who formed it, to believe as soon as the terms in
which it is expressed are understood. When we have
shown that any proposition does rest upon a self-evident
truth, we have proved it ; to proceed further is impossible.
No self-evident proposition then can be proved ; it yields
proof to others, but can itself derive it from none. And,
on the other hand, to reason against an intuitive truth, is
an act of absurdity and madness. No arguments can be
brought against it, but such as professedly derive their va-
lidity from a truth of the same order with that which is as-
sailed. If, therefore, the proposition attacked could be
conceived to be weak, the weapons of attack must be
equally weak, and so cannot overthrow it. It is impossi-
ble to prove by argument the existence of an external
world, for the same reason that we cannot prove two and
two to be equal to four ; or the whole greater than a part.
And the man who should undertake to overthrow, by argu-
ment, our established belief on this subject, would prove
nothing but his own folly or insanity.
Class V. — Sensations of Sight,
This is by far the most important of our senses. It fur-
nishes us with information so essential, as well as
valuable, that if the race of man had been incapable of
acquiring it, the very possibility of their continued existence
seems scarcely conceivable. Dr. Reid has admirably illus-
trated the incomparable value of this sense, by supposing a
world of human beings destitute of it. " How incredible,"
says he, " would it appear to such beings, accustomed only
to the slow informations of touch, that, by the addition of
an organ, consisting of a ball and socket, of an inch di-
ameter, they might be enabled, in an instant of time, with-
out changing their place, to perceive the disposition of a
whole army, the order of a battle, the figure of a magnifi-
cent palace, or all the variety of a landscape — to traverse
the globe itself; yea, to measure the planetary orbs, and
166 CLASS V.
make discoveries in the sphere of the fixed stars.""^ No
sense exhibits, in so striking and dehghtful a manner, the
infinite wisdom and unbounded goodness of the Creator.
I. The organ, or the eye, is situated in a circular orbit,
and composed of transparent substances, called humours,
of various refractive densities ; viz. the aqueous, crystalline,
and vitreous humours. The first refraction takes place
on the surface of what is called the convex cornea of the
eye, which receives the rays of light, converges and trans-
mits them to the aqueous humour, a transparent fluid
situated between the cornea and the crystalline humour.
The pupil, or perforation in the centre of the iris, admits
of the transmission of the rays from the aqueous humour to
the crystalline lens ; by which they are again refracted,
and transmitted to the vitreous humour, in which is placed
the retina, or net-like expansion of the optic nerve. After
the rays of light have undergone these several refractions,
they produce upon the retina a distinct image of the ob-
ject from which they are reflected ; and, according to the
degree of perfection with which this image is formed, will
the perception, by means of this sensitive power, be clear
and distinct.
In reference to the organ, thus briefly described, it has
been well said, " that it is a machine of such exquisite and
obvious adaptation to the effects produced by it, as to be, of
itself, in demonstrating the existence of the divine Being
who contrived it, equal in force to many volumes of theo-
logy. The atheist who has seen and studied its internal
structure, and yet continues an atheist, may be fairly con-
sidered as beyond the power of me're argument to reclaim."
" Were there no example in the world of contrivance,
except that of the eye," says Dr. Paley, " it would be
alone sufficient to support the conclusion which we draw
from it, as to the necessity and existence of an intelligent
Creator. Its coats and humours, constructed as the lenses
of a telescope are constructed, for the refraction of the
rays of light to a point, which forms the proper action of
the organ — the provision, in its muscular tendons, for turn-
* Inquiry, p. 154.
SENSATIONS OF SIGHT. 167
ing its pupil to the object, similar to that which is given to
the telescope by screws, and upon which power of direction
in the eye, the exercise of its office, as an optical instru-
ment, depends — the further provisions for its defence, for
its constant lubricity and moisture, which we see in its sock-
et, and its lids, in its gland, for the secretion of the matter
of tears, its outlet, or communication with the nose, for
carrying off the liquid after the eye is washed with it; —
these provisions compose altogether an apparatus, a system
of parts, a preparation of means, so manifest in their de-
sign, so exquisite in their contrivance, so successful in their
issue, so precious and so infinitely beneficial in their use as,
in my opinion, to bear down all doubt that can be raised
upon the subject."*
It is perfectly unnecessary to say any thing with respect
to the sensations of sight, in distinction from the knowledge
which the mind obtains through the medium of this sense.
II. The exciting causes of these sensations are generally
said to be colours. But what are colours? They are pro-
duced, we are told, by rays of light falling upon bodies
which possess the power of refraction and reflection. It is
manifest, however, that this answer leaves the subject in
all its original obscurity. It does not tell us how they are
produced, or where they are produced — whether they are
actual qualities in the bodies themselves, or mere sensa-
tions of the mind which contemplates them. " The philo-
sophical idea of colours," says Dr. Watts, *4s to consider
them to be nothing but sensations excited in the mind by
the variously refracted rays of light reflected on the eye, in
a different manner, according to the different size or shape
of the particles of which the surfaces of these bodies are
composed ; and to suppose them in the bodies themselves,
is the vulgar error."!
Sir Isaac Newton says, more correctly, that " coloured
bodies derive their colour not from the bodies themselves,
but from the particular properties they possess, of reflect-
ing some rays very abundantly, and of transmitting, or ab-
* Nat. Theol. pp. 81, 82. Vide also p. 19—32.
t Logic, Part I. Chap, iii. Sec. 4.
168 CLASS V.
sorbing others." This distinguished writer had disco verea
that light consists of rays of different colours, and of differ-
ent degrees of refrangibihty — so that by suffering it to pass
through a prism, by which the rays are refracted or bent
out of the line of direction in which they entered the prism
in different degrees, we obtain a series of colours, proceed-
ing by regular gradation from red to violet. Bodies which
reflect the red rays, appear red to us ; bodies which reflect
the violet-coloured rays, appear of a violet colour to us,
&c. &c. How it happens that some bodies reflect one
kind of rays, and others another kind, we know not. It
may result from a particular modification of the principles
of attraction and repulsion ; or it may be the result of some
other principle of which we are totally ignorant. And
though there must be some difference in the rays which
excite different sensations — in the red and violet rays for
instance — we can form no conception of the nature of that
difference. It is obvious, however, that there can be
nothing in those bodies which appear red, and nothing in
the red rays themselves, which bears the most distant re-
semblance to our sensations of redness. To suppose this
would be as absurd as to conceive of pain in the point of a
sword.
The preceding statement proceeds on the supposition
that light is the object — the exclusive object of vision. Dr.
Reid and Mr. Stewart tells us, that some objects of sense
operate directly, and others indirectly, upon our organs. In
the case of sight, for instance, they imagine that it is the dis-
tant object which acts upon the organ ; but that its action
is carried on through the medium of light. , Dr. Brown, on
the other hand, states more justly, as it appears to me, that
it is the light which acts upon the organ, and constitutes
the object of the sense of sight. The following passage
seems fully to confirm his opinion : " It is of importance to
remember, that even in the perception of the most distant
body, the true object of vision is not the distant body itself,
but the light that has reached the expansive termination
of the optic nerve. If the light could exist in the same
manner, moving in the same varieties of direction as at
SENSATIONS OP SIGHT. 169
present, though no other bodies were in existence than the
light itself, and our sensorial organ, — all the sensations of
mere sight would be the same as now ; and accordingly we
find, as light is in a great measure manageable by us, that
we have it in our power to vary, at pleasure, the visual no-
tions, which any one would otherwise have formed of
bodies, without altering the bodies themselves, or even their
position with respect to the eye, — by merely interposing
substances to modify the light reflected or emitted from
them. The same paper, which we term white when we
observe it with our naked eye, seems blue or red, when we
look at it through glass of such a kind, as absorbs all the
light which enters it, but the rays of those particular
colours ; and it seems larger or smaller as we look at it
through a concave or a convex lens, which leaves the ob-
ject precisely as it was, and affects only the direction of the
rays which come from it ; the reason of all which diversi-
ties of perceptions is, that though what we are accustomed
to term the object, continues the same, whatever substance
be interposed between it and the eye, that which is really
the obgect of vision is different ; and our perceptions, there-
fore, correspond with the diversity of their real objects."*
IV. The knowledge which is derived from the sensations
of sight. At present this sense is the inlet to innumerable
feelings. On opening our eyes, we perceive the magni-
tude, distance, figure, and relative position of bodies, as
well as their colour. Or, if this be rather an act of judg-
ment, or a suggestion of memory, the result of experience
and association, it takes place so instantaneously, that
we find it scarcely possible to conceive of a time when the
eyes might have been opened without putting us in pos-
session of all the information which the sense of sight
now^ conveys.
Since the days of Berkeley, however, philosophers, with
scarcely any exception, have admitted, that the knowledge
of the distance, magnitude, and real figure of objects, is the
result of information gained by the other senses, — that it
»* Vol. 11. pp. 61, 62.
22
170 CLASS V*
may be truly said we learn to see, — and that vision is what
Swift has paradoxically denominated it, "//ic art of seeing
things that are invisible, """^ The only point in controversy,
at present, appears to be whether we gain directly, by the
sense of sight, the knowledge of colour merely, or of exten-
sion in addition to colour, i. e, the knowledge of the length
and breadth of bodies.
Before we proceed to make any remarks upon this ques-
tion, it will be proper to advert, for a moment, to the rea-
sons which led Berkeley, and all who have written upon
the subject since his time, to refuse their assent to the opi-
nion of preceding philosophers, that the knowledge of the
distance, magnitude, and figure of bodies, is immediately
received by sight.
The evidence of fact is against this opinion. The cele-
brated Cheselden performed the operation of couching
upon an adult ; when it was found that as soon as the
organ began to perform its functions, all objects, at what-
ever distances, appeared to touch the eye. And whenever
a similar operation has been performed, since his time, it
has been found, we are told by the most competent judges,
that " the actual magnitude, distance, figure, and position
of objects, were to be learned, like a new language — that
all objects seemed equally close to the eye — and that a
sphere, and a cube, of each of which the tangible figure
vras previously known, were not so distinguishable in the
mere sensation of vision, that the one could be said with
certainty to be the cube, and the other the sphere."
The obvious inability of children to measure distances
and magnitudes, is nearly, if not altogether, as conclusive
on this point, as the cases to which we have referred.
Whatever knowledge the sense of sight can in itself con-
vey, must be obtained with the first exercise of the sense :
whoever, therefore, has seen (and who has not seen ?) an
infant stretch out its little hands to grasp the moon, must
be convinced that the knowledge of distance, &c. is not
derived from this source.
There are^ also, considerations which render it, a priori,
improbable that this hioioledge is received by the sense of
SENSATIONS OP SIGHT. 171
sight. Had it been observed that it is light which consti-
tutes the true object of vision, and not the luminous body
itself, the opinion, now opposed, could not have maintained
its ground so long. For, " from whatever distance light
may come, it is," says Dr. Brown, " but the point of the
long line, which terminates at the retina, of which we are
sensible, and this terminating point must be the same,
whether the ray has come from a few feet of distance, or
from many miles.''* " The rays, from distant objects, when
they produce vision, are as near to the retina, as the rays
from objects which are contiguous to the eye." How,
therefore, should these rays suggest the notion of unequal
distances, unless they do it by intuition ? — a notion directly
contradicted by the facts to which we have referred ; for if
the knowledge of distance were instinctive, it would exist
in infancy (as appears to be the case among animals) as
well as in maturity ; and would, further, be immediate in
those who have acquired the power of vision, by the surgi-
cal operation to which reference has been made.
But if distance is not the direct object of sight, like co-
lour, and if the perception of distance is not instinctive,
how is it acquired ? It has been usual to suppose that
objects appear to us distant, or near, according to the
angle which lines proceeding from their boundaries or ex-
tremities, subtend upon the eye of the beholder. The reply
of Dr. Brown to this statement is irresistible. He says, in
substance, that all men are not instinctively geometers, and
employed in measuring angles, — that these angles have
no real existence, as feelings of the mind of the individual
who sees, — and, finally, that it is impossible for the mind to
have any knowledge of them. They are formed by rays of
light proceeding from distant bodies, and meeting in one
focal point at the retina. The angles, therefore, cannot be
known, unless the radiant lines, formed by the rays, are
known : and how is it possible, in harmony with preceding
statements, to conceive that they are known ? The dis-
tant body from which they proceed, is not the object of
■■^ Vol. n. pp. 66, 67.
172 CLASS Y.
-vision— the rays, in their progress from it, are not the ob-
jects of vision ; the point of light which comes in contact
with the retina, and this point of Hght alone, is the object
of vision. " Before the rays reach the optic nerve, they
are," says Dr. Brown, " as little capable of producing
vision, as darkness itself;" (as little capable, we may add,
as is the fragrance of a rose of producing sensation, before
it reaches the nostril ;) " and when they reach the retina,
the hnes, and consequently the angles, exist no more.''*
Our knowledge of distance, &c. is not, then, derived
from the angles which rays of light subtend upon the eye ;
for, in addition to what has been already said, these angles
must be the same, whether the body be viewed on land, or
across an expanse of water ; yet the apparent distance
will be very different. This single fact would prove, were
there no other evidence, that the knowledge of which we
are speaking, is a result of the principle of association.
There is, doubtless, an original diversity in the sensations
produced by light (for we must ever bear it in mind that
it is by light that the sensations of vision are produced)
which proceeds from one body, at a distance, and from
another, which is near; it is then perfectly easy to see, how
these sensations may become, or rather must become, signs
of the distance of objects. They suggest the notions of near-
ness, or distance, in the same manner precisely with sounds.
In fact, it is only as the result of association, that we come
to know from what bodies the light which beanii$ upon our
eye is reflected. Light, as we have said, is the only object
of vision. It is not the tree, or the house, which stands be-
fore Us, that we see, but light merely^ pf different kinds,
and shades of colour. In the same manner, however, as
words become associated with things, so as to suggest them,
do the sensations of colour suggest the bodies from which
they are reflected.
But if our perceptions of distance, magnitude, &c. &c.
should be allowed to be acquired, is not the perception of
extension, or of the length and breadth of objects, or rather
of colour, involved in the sensations of sight themselves ?
■= Vol. H. p. 7 8.
SENSATIONS OF SIGHT. 173
AiJ philosophers, previous to the time of Dr. Brown, have
replied to this question in the affirmative. Dr. Reid main-
tains that there is a figure which bodies present to the
eye — a figure which involves length and breadth; (or, in
other words, that in the original perceptions of this sense,
we see not merely colour, but expanded colour,) but is es-
sentially different from the tangible figure, or the figure
which is perceived by the sense of touch, and which is, in
fact, the true figure ; — that upon this visible figure experi-
ence effects no change, it being the same to an infant, or
to a man newly made to see, as to u^ ; — that these visible
appearances are disregarded by us, nature designing them
as signs of the tangible figures of bodies, which they sug-
gest, though not intuitively ; for though these signs, as he
calls them, present the same appearance to a man newly
made to see, as to us, yet he would have no knowledge of
their signification, whereas to us they constitute a language
perfectly familiar, and, therefore, we take no notice of the
signs, and attend only to the thing signified by them.*
In support of this opinion, Dr. Reid refers to the art of
painting ; a proficient in which art, by the different size,
and shading, he gives to the objects which he represents,
can exhibit them as solid or circular, or distant or near, as
well as extended ; t. e. as Dr. Reid thinks, he can transfer
to the canvass the precise appearance which they present to
the eye, so that the painting suggests to the mind the same
ideas which the scene in nature which it represents would
have done.
Dr. Brown, on the other hand, denies that extension
is involved in our original perceptions of sight. We sec
light or colour only, he thinks, not an expanse of colour,
or colour of a certain length or breadth. The colour now
appears figured, i. e, extended, only in consequence of
being blended, by intimate associations, with the feelings
commonly ascribed to touch. He admits that, in our pre-
sent sensations of sight, it is impossible for us to separate
extension from colour ; or that objects necessarily appear
to us long and broad ; but he maintains that this extension
* Inquiry, pp. 169,70.
174 GLASS V.
of length and breadth is not the extension of the figure
called visible, but of the tangible figure ; that the only
figure which does seem to us combined in vision vi^ith
colour, is that which philosophers call tangible. And, in
reply to the argument, or the supposed argument, in sup-
port of the notion that extension constitutes an ingredi-
ent in our original perceptions of sight, derived from the
fact, that there is a certain figure, or length and breadth
of the retina, upon which the light falls, he says, " this is
admitted ; but the question is not whether such a figure
exists, but whether the perception of the figure necessa-
rily forms a part of the sensation. A certain extent of ner-
vous expanse is affected when sensation, through the me-
dium of the other senses, is excited ; of the olfactory nerves,
for instance. We do not, however, connect extension with
our sensations of smell on this account ; we have not yards
or inches of fragrance. Why then should extension, for
this reason, accompany the sensation of colour?"
The reader will form his own judgment upon this difficult
question. I feel scarcely prepared to express an opinion.
Some things it seems necessary to concede to Dr. Brown.
In the first place, that our present inability to separate ex-
tension from colour — or, in other words, that the fact that
objects now appear to us long and broad — does not prove
that it was originally so ; because they now appear at dif-
ferent distances from us, though it has been proved that
they seemed originally in contact with the eye. Our per-
ception of extension, therefore, may be acquired. Second-
ly, it must, 1 imagine, be conceded to Dr. Brown, and for
the reasons assigned by him, that the perception of exten-
sion is not necessarily involved in our original sensations of
sight because a certain expanse of the retina is acted upon
when vision is produced. But I am constrained to ac-
knowledge, that he appears to me to involve the subject
in some perplexity, by supposing, as he does, that there
can be no visible figure of objects, unless the figure on the
retina is perceived. Now 1 certainly am not aware that
any philosopher conceives that the visible figure which, as
he imagines, bodies present to the eye, is the figure which
SENSATIONS OF SIGHT. 175
iliey form upon the retina. If that were the case, how
could bodies appear larger than the retina ? The question
is, whether colour, when first perceived by the eye, is not
seen to be expanded — to be long and broad — or of a cer-
tain figure — di figure of larger or smaller dimensions, ac-
cording to the extent of the retina aftected,but not the very
figure formed upon it ? And, further, whether this figure,
or apparent magnitude, does not become, by association,
a sign of the real or tangible magnitude of bodies ? It is
essential to the support of Dr. Brown's system to maintain,
as he does, that the figure or magnitude, which he allows
it is now impossible to separate from colour, is the tangi-
ble, L e, the real figure or magnitude. I cannot, however,
but doubt the accuracy of this statement. The pane of
glass in the window, near to which I sit, appears thou-
sands of times longer and broader than another pane,
of the same size, in the opposite house ; yea, abundantly
larger than the house itself. Is the apparent magnitude of
the latter the tangible magnitude ? How can it be sup-
posed ? Further, if the figure which we cannot separate
from colour, be the tangible figure ; i. e, a figure including
the dimensions of length, breadth, and thickness ; how
would it be possible to represent it upon a flat surface ? If
objects really appear thick, as well as broad and long,
which Dr. Brown supposes, it would seem to me to follow,
that we cannot form pictures of them, because thickness
cannot be drawn upon canvass. If, on the contrary, all that
we really see be certain kinds and shades of colour, of dif-
ferent degrees of length and breadth ; and if the thickness
or solidity of bodies be a mere suggestion of memory ; then
the mystery of the art of painting is unravelled. The same
proportionate length, and breadth, and kinds, and shades,
of colour, appearing on paper, or canvass, will suggest all
that the scene in nature, which it represents, will suggest —
and a painting may be mistaken for an actual landscape.
Lastly, if no extension of length and breadth, varying ac-
cording to the distances of objects, is involved in the ori-
ginal sensations of sight, how could the appearance which
bodies make to the eye, ever come, by experience, to sug-
1T6 INTERNAL AFFECTIONS.
gest their real magnitude ? The brightness, and degrada-
tion, and variation in the colour of objects, at different dis-
tances from the eye, afford a basis on which experience
may erect rules to guide us in judging of distances. But if
there were no visible extension of length and breadth, I am
at a loss to conceive how we could ever come to judge of
their real size. On the contrary, if they have apparent
magnitude, varying, let it be observed, according to their
distances, and not remaining the same, as Dr. Brown re-
presents, at all distances, (and that they have, we have
surely only to open our eyes to be convinced,) all difficulty
is at once removed. The apparent size suggests by expe-
rience the real size ; in the same way as difference of co-
lour suggests difference of distance.
There is one statement by Dr. Brown on this subject,
which appears to me at variance with his own sentiments.
*-The magnitude," he says, "which we connect with
colour, in any case, is the magnitude which we term tangi-
ble, — a magnitude," he adds, " that does not depend on the
diameter of the retina, but is variously, greater or less, de-
pending only on the magnitude and distance of the exter-
nal objecty^^ Now as the tangible, i. e. the real 'magni-
tude of bodies is incapable of change — as it does not de-
pend upon, or vary with, their distance, I am unable to at-
tach any meaning to these words ; unless one which recog-
nizes the very distinction which he endeavours to disprove.
DIVISION II.
INCLUDING THE INTERNAL AFFECTIONS OF THE MINDi
The class of feelings which have passed under our re-
view, are the result of the laws both of matter and of mind.
They necessarily suppose that, in the latter, there exist cer-
tain susceptibilities of receiving impressions from without :
* Vol. 11. p. 89.
PROOF THAT THEY EXIST. 177
and that there are, in the former, certain properties, or
qualities, adapted to develope them. The external aiFec^
tions then depend, as Dr. Brown has well said, as much
upon external things as upon the mind itself. They re*
quire for their existence the presence and influence of
something external to the mind — a circumstance which ex-
plains, and perhaps sufficiently justifies, the term by which
this incomparable writer has designated them^
The class of affections we now proceed to consider^
comprehends those which depend upon the independent
constitution of the mind itself; which do not directly, at
least, depend upon the body ; which have for their imme-
diate antecedents, not impressions made upon the organs
of sense, or the brain, but previous feelings or states of the
mind itself. Before we proceed to classify these affections,
it may be of use to offer a few remarks in proof of their
existence, and in illustration of their vast importance.
It may be desirable to show, in the first place^ that we
have such affections ; for, in consequence of prevailing
misconceptions of the meaning of such terms as causation,
mental action, (fee, a difficulty is apt to be experienced, in
conceiving that one state, or affection of mind, can be im-
mediately followed, without the interposition of any other
agency, by another state, or affection of mind. How can
a state of mind, in which the mind is said to be passive, be-
come the cause of some other state ? How can mind
thus act upon itself? To some, this appears to involve?
greater difficulty than the connexion between matter and
mind. In the latter case, the statement of preceding phi-
losophers, incredible as it may appear, has seemed to them
to lessen the difficulty. An impression, such is the state-
ment, is made upon an organ of sense — the mind, which is
gifted with active power, attends to the impression — and so
becomes sensible of the presence of something external ;
somewhat in the same way, we presume, as we are apprized
of the presence of a beggar when he knocks at the door!
It is wonderful that such learned trifling should, for so long
a period, have been mistaken for sound philosophy !
23
178 INTERNAL AFFECTIONS.
It is difficult to see how tliese notions can be applied to
the rise of our internal afiections. One of these affections
cannot knock, so to speak, at the door of the mind, and so
arouse its slumbering attention ; or if it did, it could only,
we should think, direct its attention to itself, and not awa-
ken a totally different affection. It is impossible for the
old philosophy to explain how one affection of the mind
produces another affection. But if we entertain those no-
tions of causation — of mental or material action, which
have been advocated in the preceding part of this work, we
shall not think that there is any thing peculiarly mysteri-
ous in the matter. All we know of the external affections
is, that a certain state of mind invariably follows a certain
state of matter ; all we know of the internal affections is,
that a certain state of mind is subsequent to another state
of mind. The amount of our knowledge is, in each case^
the same ; it is the fact, and the fact exclusively. That the
consequent follows the antecedent, in both cases, must be
resolved into Divine appointment. Now it is surely as easy
to conceive that the constitution of the mind is such that
one state of mind should be connected with another state
of mind, as that ascertain mental affection should, in Hke
manner, be connected with a certain impression upon the
body — a substance that is external to itself, and radically
different from it.
There is, then, no a priori objection against the supposi-
tion that we have internal (in the sense in which the word
has been explained) as well as external affections ; or, in
other words, that such is the constitution of the mind, that
some of its affections immediately and invariably precede,
and so are, in the only intelligible sense of the words, the
causes of other affections. The Divine Contriver of our
mental frame, to adopt the language of Dr. Brown, with a
slight variation, who formed the soul to exist in certain
states, on the presence of external things, could also easily
form it to exist in certain successive states without the pre-
sence, or direct influence of any thing external ; the one
state of the mind being as immediately the cause of the
state of mind which follows it, as, in our external feelings,
PROOF THAT THEY EXIST. 179
the change produced in our corporeal organ of sense, is
the cause of any one of the particular affections of that
class.*
All this, however, does not prove that we have such af-
fections. Certainly not ; but is the existence of such a class
of affections to be doubted ? Does not the sensation of
hunger produce a desire of food ? Does not the perception
of danger excite fear ? Does not the sight of a friend awa-
ken joy ? Dr. Brown has illustrated this subject in a man-
ner so felicitous — so admirably adapted to fix an indelible
impression upon the mind, of the sentiments he aims to
convey, that though the passage is long, I shall easily be
excused for quoting it. " Suppose ourselves, in walking
across a lawn, to turn our eyes to a particular point, and
to perceive there an oak. That is to say, the presence of
the oak, or rather of the light reflected from it, occasions a
certain new state of mind, which we call a sensation of
vision ; an affection which belongs to the mind alone, in-
deed, but of which we have every reason to suppose, that
the mind of itself, without the presence of light, would not
have been the subject. The peculiar sensation, therefore,
is the result of the presence of the light reflected from the
oak; and we perceive it, because the mind is capable of
being affected by external things. But this affection of the
mind, which has an external object for its immediate cause,
is not the only mental change which takes place. Other
changes succeed it, without any other external impression.
We compare the oak with some other tree which we have
seen before, and are struck with its superior magnificence
and beauty ; we imagine how some scene more familiar to
us would appear, if it were adorned with this tree, and how
the scene before us would appear, if it were stripped of it ;
we think of the number of years which must have passed
since the oak was an acorn ; and we moralize, perhaps,
on the changes which have taken place in the little history
of ourselves and our friends, and still more on the revolu-
tions of kingdoms, and the birth and decay of a whole ge-
♦ Vol. 11. pp. 153, 4.
180 .IXTERNAL AFFECTIOJVS.
neration of mankind, — while it has been silently and regu-
larly advancing to maturity through the sunshine and the
storm. Of all the variety of states of mind which these
processes of thought involve, the only one which can be as-
cribed to an external object as its direct cause, is the pri-
mary perception of the oak ; the rest have been the result,
not immediately of any thing external, but of preceding
states of the mind ; that particular mental state which con-
stituted the perception of the oak, being followed immedi-
ately by that different state which constituted the compari--
son of the two ; and so, successively, through all the differ-
ent processes of thought enumerated. The mind, indeed,
could not, without the presence of the oak, that is to say,
without the presence of the light which the oak reflects,
have existed in the state which constituted the perception
of the oak. But as little could any external object^ without
this primary mental affection, have produced immediately
any of those other states of the mind which followed the
perception. There is thus one obvious distinction of the
mental phsenomena ; as in relation to their causes, external
or internal ; and whatever other terms of subdivision it may
be necessary to employ, we have, at least, one boundary,
and know what it is we mean, when we speak of the exter-
nal and internal affections of the mind."*
In the second place, it will be proper to illustrate their
vast importance. The susceptibilities which are indicated
by them, enlarge, to an incredible degree, our capacities
of enjoyment. All our bodily senses, indeed, are inlets of
pleasure. They may doubtless become sources of pain :
but they were not given to afflict and torment us. The
benevolent intention of the heavenly donor is apparent.
The loss of any single sense, would be the drying up of a
source of boundless gratification. But the affections, upon
the consideration of which we are now to enter, are pecu-
liary valuable in this point of view, on account of their
immense number ; since by far the greater part of our feel-
ings are those which arise from our internal successions of
* Vol. I. p. 368—370.
4^*
THEIR GREAT IMPORTANCE. 181
thought. Innumerable as our perceptions appear, they,
form but an inconsiderable part of the varied consciousness
of a day. A single sensation may originate a countless
train of feelings, each of them more precious to the mind
through which they pass in rapid succession, than the
wealth of the Indies. An impression made upon one of
the bodily orgalhs, may lead us back to the scenes of child-
hood and youth — may cause us to live over again, so to
speak, the hours of enjoyment we have spent in days which
have long since passed away — and awaken the most de-
lightful anticipations of that futurity into which nothing but
the eye of fancy, and imagination, and faith, is permitted to
enter. And if, in the backward vision of events, scenes
should start into view which distress, rather than delight
us, let us not forget that this is not to be ascribed to the
constitution of our minds, but to that sad proneness to
evil which carried us from the patli of duty, and so forces
bitterness out of the source of consolation itself.
Further, our susceptibilities of internal atfection elevate
us greatly in the scale of being. To them we are indebted
for our superiority over the irrational creation. In all that
regards mere sensation, we are certainly not raised above
the brutes, and are, indeed, in some respects, unquestion-
ably inferior to them. Destitute of the class of internal
affections, we should be mere brutes, or rather more de-
pressed in the scale of being ; for, limited as their powers
are, they have manifestly more than mere sensation.
They have memory, if not judgment, in an inferior and a
stationary degree. We must, then, seek for that cause
which elevates the mind of man, physically considered, to
a nearer equality with angelic nature, than the mind of
the brute sustains, in those high and noble faculties which
constitute, according to our arrangement, the second ge-
neral division of its powers. To raise our estimate of the
value of these powers, let us endeavour to form a con-
ception of the state to which we should be reduced were
we to be deprived of memory, and the power of mark-
ing resemblances, <fcc. In that case all science would be-
come extinct ; for science, as we had occasion formerly to
182 INTERNAL AFFECTIONS.
observe, consists in classification, which requires a power
of recognizing resemblances. Our existence would, in
fact, be confined to the present moment. Our minds
would resemble a mirror, as Dr. Brown observes, from
which the images of passing objects perish as they are
hurried forwards by others, — with this difference only, that
the mind would be conscious of the presence of the image
while it remained, which the mirror is not. But, consti-
tuted as we are at present, the knowledge which we ac-
quire from without, lives within us ; and, in the very dark-
ness of midnight, can create again, so to speak, that very
world which is hidden from our view. Our internal affec-
tions enable us to live in the past and the future, and ren-
der those objects which are to form and discipline our
minds, and prepare them for a higher sphere of duty and
of enjoyment, for ever present with us. They serve to
weave, so to speak, all our thoughts and feelings into one
harmonious whole. " If," says Dr. Brown, " we had the
power of external sense only, life would be as passive as
the most unconnected dream ; or rather, far more passive
and irregular than the wildest of our dreams. Our remem-
brances, comparisons, our hopes, our fears, and all the va-
riety of our thoughts and emotions, give a harmony and
unity to our general consciousness, which make the con-
sciousness of each day a little drama, or a connected part
of that still greater drama, which is to end only with the
death of its hero, or rather with the commencement of his
glorious apotheosis."*
Finally, our susceptibilities of internal affection render
the mind independent of the body. Against the doctrine
of a separate state, between death and the resurrection —
a doctrine maintained by all orthodox divines — material-
ists and infidels have been in the habit of objecting, that
the mind cannot exist without the body, — that it is so de-
pendent upon bodily organization, in relation to all its feel-
ings and operations, that it must necessarily sink into a stato
of unconsciousness, or rather of non-existence, when the
* Vol. II. p. 150.
THEIR GREAT IMPORTANCE. 183
body crumbles into the dust. Now, holding fast, as I do,
the scriptural sentiment, that " to be absent from the body,
is to be present with the Lord," I am still disposed to con-
cede to the materialist, that of all that class of feelings
which we have denominated sensations, i. e. of the sensi-
tive, or external affections, the mind must be deprived by
the loss of the body. I am well aware that an Omnipo-
tent Being could give existence to a creature, susceptible
of all the affections which now arise, in the mind of man,
without the slightest connexion with any thing material.
On the death of the body he may, it will be said, impart
this susceptibihty ; and I have no intention to affirm with
certainty that he will not do it ; but the supposition appears
to me in the highest degree improbable. The bestowment
of this supposed susceptibility, would involve a radical
change in the physical nature of the human mind ; and
such a change the Scriptures, I think, do not warrant us
to expect. Were it to take place, it would render unne-
cessary, if not undesirable, the redemption of the body
from the grave. Now, the Sacred Writers invariably re-
present this event as the very consummation of the Chris-
tian's enjoyment. Their statements necessarily imply that
the soul suffers loss while the body remains a prisoner in
the grave. And this loss is, 1 apprehend, the loss of that
entire class of affections, which have come under our re-
view — those feelings of mind of which the senses are the
inlets — and which, as we have seen, cannot, in the present
state, be experienced, without that impression upon the
external organ, with which the resulting sensation has been
connected, by the great Author of our frame, in invariable
sequence. It is not judicious, 1 imagine, to contend that
the mind will continue to experience, in a separate state,
all the feelings of which it is the subject in this world.
The independence of the mind upon the body should be
sought for in that class of feelings which have nothing ex-
ternal and material as their cause.
The bearing of these remarks upon the fashionable sys-.
tem of phrenology will be apparent. According to that
system, all our affections are external affections. They
depend upon a certain state of the body ; they must ac-
184 PHRENOLOGY.
cordingly perish with the body. " If the mind," says Drl
Brown, in a passage to which I would call the particular
attention of all who seem to have no apprehension that
phrenology will ultimately conduct to materialism, " were
capable of no affections, but those which I have termed
external, it would itself be virtually as mortal as all the
mortal things that are around it ; since, but for them, as
causes of its feelings, it could not, in these circumstances
of complete dependance, have any feelings whatever, and
could, therefore, exist only in that state of original insensi-
bility, which preceded the first sensation that gave it con-
sciousness of existence. It is, in the true sense of immor-
tality of life, immortal, only because it depends for its feel-
ings, as well as for its mere existence, not on the state of
perishable things, which are but the atmosphere that floats
around it, but on its own independent laws ; or, at least,
— for the laws of mind, as well as the laws of matter, can
mean nothing more, — depends, for the successions of its
feelings, only on the provident arrangements of that all-
foreseeing Power, whose will, as it existed at the very mo-
ment at which it called every thing from nothing, and gave
to mind and matter their powers and susceptibilities, is
thus, consequently, in the whole series of effects, from age
to age, the eternal legislation of the universe."*
* Vol. II. p. 155.
A sense of duty has led me to make the above remark in reference to
the system alluded to ; but I have no wish, for the following reasons, to en-
rol myself among the number of its decided and avowed opponents. First,
because it reckons among its advocates the biographer of Dr. Brown, a
gentleman of great metaphysical acumen, whose opinions on any subject
are entitled to much respect, and especially upon a subject to which he
has probably devoted a considerably greater degree of attention than any
of his opponents. Secondly, because I am, perhaps, properly speaking,
rather an unbeliever of the doctrine than a rejecter of it : and. Thirdly, be-
cause candour compels me to say that I have been repelled from so care-
ful an examination of the system as I might have given to it, by what I
cannot but regard as the vague and unsatisfactory manner in which it is
exhibited in the writings of one of its principal advocates. Poor phreno-
logy has been very unfortunate in its apostle! Could not the Modern
Athens supply his place with one who could at any rate state the princi-
ples of the system with something like philosophical precision ? I am con-
strained to think that the present leader had better beware of metaphysics.
OBJECTION STATED. 185
*Vhe internal affections, like the affections of sense, are
to be analyzed, and classified ; and there is more room
for analysis in the case of this order of our affections,
than in that of those which have already come under our
notice. Our primitive sensations cannot be analyzed ;
they are perfectly simple feelings. We are in danger of
confounding them, indeed, with states of mind, com-
pounded of the original and simple feeling, and a certain
notion, with which it has become blended, by intimate
association ; and hence there is a necessity for a process
of analysis even here. But it is in the class of internal
affections especially that feelings, bound together in in-
dissoluble union, are in the greatest danger of being mis-
taken for simple states of mind ; and it is consequently
here that we have the greatest need to institute a rigid
process of mental analysis.
In prosecuting our analysis, we shall find need to sum-
mon all our caution and judgment to our aid. We may
err in attempting to carry the analysis too far, — an error
which will lead us to aim at forcing into one division, in-
tellectual diversities which cannot be made to correspond.
Or we may err, on the other hand, by not carrying the
analysis far enough — an error which will cause us to
multiply divisions, in classifying the phaenomena, without
necessity.
The metaphysicians on the continent have fallen into
the former mistake. In France, Dr. Brown tells us, all
the phaenomena of mind, have been, during half a century,
regarded as sensations, or transformed sensations ; that is
to say, as sensations variously simplified, or combined.
The system of Condillac supposes not merely that sensa-
tion is the source of all our feelings, in the sense of being
primary to them, but that it essentially constitutes them
all, " in the same manner as the waters of the fountain
are afterward the very same waters which flow along the
mead." When two material substances chemically com-
bine, and seem to form a third substance, unlike either of
the former, this third substance, how dissimilar soever it
may appear, is only the two substances co-existing,
24
i86 Alls TAKE OF CONDILLAC.
Condillac suffers this fact to guide his views in intellectual
science. Two affections of inind are followed by a third ;
— the perception of a horse, and the perception of a cow,
by the conception of their resemblance, for instance ; and,
therefore, this third affection — the conception, or feeling
of their resemblance — is the two former affections, as
Condillac imagines, co-existing or transformed. In a
most masterly manner, Dr. Brown has shown, that the
analogy which has misled Condillac is delusive ; as, in-
deed, the greater part of such analogies must necessarily
be. He exhibits the radical error committed by him — the
error of Apposing that when he has shown the circum-
stances in which any mental affection arises, he has shown
this affection to be essentially the same with the circum-
stances which produced it. He states very justly, that, if
we refer the decision to consciousness, we must at once
admit that the feeling of resemblance, in the case referred
to above, is essentially different from the previous acts of
perception which originated it ; and he adds, " It is not,
therefore, as being susceptible of mere sensation, but as
being susceptible of more than mere sensation, that the
mind is able to compare its sensations with another.'''' This
act of comparison, if we call it a mental act, requires, for
its performance, a distinct and separate power.
In addition to Dr. Brown's able argument,' the case of
brutes may be appealed to, in support of the preceding
statement. They have sensation, and in all that regards
mere sensation, they are, as we have seen, probably not
less perfect, at any rate, than man. They ought, therefore,
according to the French system, to be able to perceive
resemblances, and so to classify ; that is, they ought to be
as capable of science as man himself. This, however, as
we are well aware, is contrary to fact. The internal af-
fections cannot then be resolved into sensation.
Some of the Scotch metaphysicians appear to have
fallen into the opposite error. They have multiplied
powers to an unprecedented degree ; and against this
error, as it appears to me, we ought to be especially on
our guard. W^ may stop the process of analysis too
NOT RESOLVABLE INTO SENSATION. 187
fioon, that is, before we have arrived at the elements of
our varied thoughts and feelings ; but we cannot carry the
process too far, if we pause when we reach the elements
themselves. It is conceded at once, indeed, that — since
intellectual elements do not, any more than material
elements, exhibit in themselves any distinguishing marks
that they are such — we may at times waste our labour on
that which does not admit of further decomposition. But
how are we to know that it will admit of no furtiicr de-
composition, till we make an attempt to analyze, and
make it without success ? Who complains of excessive
analysis in physical science ? The case of the ancients,
who admitted of only four elements, and the case of the
alchymists, who contended that there is but one — to both
of which Dr. Brown refers, — are not in point ; because
their statements proceeded not on the ground of examina-
tion, and analysis, but of conjecture merely. Let us not,
in like manner, complain of intellectual analysis, to what
extent soever it may be carried, while the results of that
analysis are carefully examiped. It becomes us to guard,
I apprehend, against excessive simplification in the science
of mind, not by refusing, as Dr. Re id and Mr. Stewart
liave done, to put our feelings and states of mind generally
into the intellectual crucible, but by resolving not to be
imposed upon by any thing which it may be pretended
comes out of it. We do not bar the attempts of the
chemist to reduce the present number of apparent ma-
terial elements ; — on the contrary, we applaud them. He
is engaged in his proper vocation. We merely deem it
necessary to exercise suitable caution in receiving the an-
nounced results of his experiments. If he assure us that
water may be resolved into certain gases, we pause, per-
haps, in forming a judgment till some one has repeated
the experiment on which he grounds his opinion, or we
repeat it ourselves : and when a sufficient trial has been
made, we give our confidence and support to the new
doctrine. And even if this second attempt at analysis
should fail to bring satisfaction to our minds — if it should
furnish reason to suppose that the original experimenter
188 CLASSIFICATION OP
was mistaken — we should not censure the efforts he had
made to unfold the secrets of the material world, unless
it appeared, on examination, that those efforts had been
unwisely or ignorantly directed.
Similar remarks, as it appears to me, may be made with
regard to the analysis of mind, its powers, and operations.
No discoveries will be made in intellectual science, if no
discoveries are expected and attempted — if nearly the
whole of the mental phaenomena are at once, with little or
no examination, to be regarded as the results of intuition,
or of certain original powers, concerning which nothing
further can be said, than that they are primitive laws of
mind. Speculation and analysis should, it is conceived,
be encouraged ; but we ought to receive their pretended
results with great caution. If the French metaphysicians,
for example, declare that all our feelings may be resolved
into sensations, let us appeal to consciousness. Let us ex-
amine, by its aid, whether the affection, which, as they as-
sure us, is compound, does really involve the elements of
which they speak ; whether these elements united, consti-
tute the whole of the feeling, or more than the feeling ; and
let the testimony which consciousness gives upon the sub-
ject, guide our decision.
In the present state of mental science, few, it is ima-
gined, will be disposed to deny that, perhaps, the chief
fault of Dr. Reid's generally excellent writings, is the dis-
regard of analysis which they display. This distinguished
writer has multiplied powers to a most unnecessary and
unwarrantable extent ; "for though," as Dr. Brown has*
well observed, " in one sense, the susceptibilities or pow-
ers which the mind possesses, may be said to be as nume-
rous as its feelings themselves — there being no classes of
feelings in the mind, and every feeling implying a corres-
ponding susceptibility ; yet when we arrange these differ-
ent phaenomena, in certain classes, it is an error in classifi-
cation, to give a new name to varieties that can be referred
to other parts of the division already made."
In our classification of the internal affections, we follow
Dr. Brown, who divides them into two great orders, " our
THE INTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 189
intellectual states of mind, and our emotions ;" and, uniting
with them the order of feehng we have already considered,
he thus admirably exhibits the distinction which exists
between them. " We have sensations, or perceptions of
the objects that affect our bodily organs ; these I term the
sensitive^ or external affections of the mind ; we remember
objects— we imagine tliem in new situations — we compare
their relations ; — these mere conceptions, or notions of ob-
jects and their qualities, as elements of our general know-
ledge, are what I have termed the intellectual states of
mind ; — we are moved with certain lively feelings, on the
consideration of what we thus perceive, remember, ima-
gine, or compare — with feelings, for example, of beauty, or
sublimity, or astonishment, or love, or hate, or hope, or
fear ; these, and various other vivid feelings analogous to
them, are our emotions,'*'*
" There is no portion of our consciousness," he adds,
'' which does not appear to me to be included in one or
other of these three divisions. To know all our sensitive
states, all our intellectual states, and all our emotions, is to
know all the states or phajnomena of the mind."* In re-
ference to this division of the internal affections, I agree
with Mr. Welsh, in thinking that no advances in science
can supersede it. " Intellectual states and emotions are
felt by us to be generically different, and must always thus
be felt.''
Order I.
0¥ OUR INTERNAL AFFECTIONS, COMPREHENDING OUR INTELLECTUAL
STATES OF MIND.
The mental affections thus designated, divide them-
selves into two classes, which it may be proper to illus-
trate briefly, before we proceed to a particular considera-
tion of each.
It is impossible to examine the mental phaenomena with-
out perceiving that there are laws by which their succession
* Vol. I. p. 377.
^
1^0 CLASSIFICATION, «&Cn.
is regulated. No one can doubt that there is what we call
a train of ideas in the mind — that one thought originates
another thought, which, in its turn, introduces a third ; so
that a line of connexion runs through the consciousness of
each day, and, indeed, through the whole consciousness of
life. The first class of intellectual states of mind, consists
then of those simple notions or conceptions of objects,
w^hich separately arise out of a preceding state of mind,
under the guidance of laws to be afterward considered.
It is not more certain, however, that one simple concep-
tion thus introduces another, than that notions of relation
arise in the mind, when two or more objects are present to
its view. The mind as irresistibly compares the beings and
things to which its attention is invited, as it perceives them ;
and it must be particularly observed, that those notions of
relation which arise out of this mental comparison of two
objects, differ essentially from the thoughts which are sug-
gested by the contemplation of one object ; and so consti-
tute the second class of our intellectual states of mind.
To the first of these classes, Dr. Brown has given the name
of Simple Suggestions ; the second, he distinguishes by the
title of Relative Suggestions. These two classes of men-
tal affections, let it be further observed, indicate the exist-
ence of two distinct powers or tendencies of mind ; and it
is only necessary to suppose that the mind is actually pos-
sessed of these two powers, to account for the existence of
the whole of that order of our mental affections which we
are now to consider.
I do not altogether approve of the terms by which Dr.
Brown designates these two classes of our intellectual
states, especially of the latter. * To the word Suggestion,
an unusual latitude of signification is attached. When the
sight of a painting is followed by the conception of the
painter, it is in perfect harmony with the ordinary use of
the term, to say it suggests the latter idea ; but the percep-
tion of a horse, and a sheep, can scarcely be said to sug-
gest the points in which they agree. Dr. Brown, however,
uses the term Suggest in this connexion, merely to inti-
mate that one state of mind immediatelv follows another
ORDEE I. CLASS I. 191
State. Relative Suggestions are feelings which arise by a
law of the mind, from co-existing perception, or concep-
tion, or two or more objects. Bearing these remarks in
mind, we need not hesitate to adopt Dr. Brown's phrase-
olo<yy ; and, for reasons formerly stated, it is deemed better
not to depart from it.
Class I.
Of the Intellectual States^ ^c. viz. Simple Suggestions,
Are those states of mind which arise out of preceding
states of mind, without involving any notion of relation ;
or, in other words, they are simple conceptions of what
has been formerly perceived. The sight of a river, for
instance, suggests the idea of a friend who perished in it
many years ago. In this case the recollection of our
friend, which is one state of mind, is introduced by the
perception of the river, which constituted the immediately
preceding state of mind. And in explanation of the fact
that the latter state arises out of the former, no other
reason can be assigned, than that God has so formed the
mind that certain states are subsequent to certain other
states, according to various laws, of the nature and opera-
tions of which we must derive our knowledge from ex-
perience. In illustration of this class of our mental
states, Mr. Stewart says, — " That one thought is often
suggested to the mind by another ; and that the sight of
an external object often recalls former occurrences, and
revives former feelings, are facts which are perfectly
familiar, even to those who are least disposed to speculate
concerning the principles of their nature. In passing
along a road which we have formerly travelled, in the
company of a friend, the particulars of the conversation
in which we were then engaged, are frequently suggested
to us by the objects we meet with. In such a scene, we
recollect that a particular subject was started ; and, in
passing the different houses, and plantations, and rivers.
192 CLASS I. IDEAS SUGGESTED,
the arguments we were discussing when we last saw them,
recur spontaneously to the memory."*
To the thoughts which are thus suggested, we give the
name of Simple Suggestions ; the mental power, in con-
sequence of the existence of which they arise in the man-
ner described by Mr. Stewart, we denominate Simple
Suggestion. It will be necessary here to exhibit more
fully the nature of the power itself; and then to explain
the laws by which it operates.
The phrase, " the association of ideas," was formerly
used to designate what is meant by simple suggestion.
Dr. Reid, indeed, thinks it has no claim to be considered
an original principle, or an ultimate fact in our nature,
and resolves it into habit. Mr. Stewart, on the contrary,
resolves habit, when the term is used in reference to men-
tal operations, into association of ideas, which he regards
as a law of our constitution, or an original principle.
The following reasons lead me to reject the phrase, " as-
sociation of ideas," as a proper designation of that
power, to the influence of which the mental states we are
now considering ought to be traced.
Firsts it is too limited in its application. It supposes
that nothing but past thoughts can be recalled, whereas it
is manifest, such at least is the general opinion of philo-
sophers, that former feelings are most powerfully revived
by the presence of objects, the perception of which co-
existed with the feelings themselves. Which of us could
revisit the chamber in which we witnessed the dying
agonies of a beloved friend, without a renewal of our
grief? Indeed, Mr. Stewart himself admits that the
phrase is not unexceptionable. " If it be used," is his
language, " as it frequently has been, to comprehend
those laws by which the succession of all our thoughts,
and of all our mental operations, is regulated, the word
idea must be understood in a sense much more extensive
than it is commonly employed in." " I would not, there-
fore," he adds, " be understood to dispute the advantages
* Vol. I. pp. 277, 8.
!\0T ASSOCIATED. 193
which might be derived from the introduction of a new
phrase, more precise, and more applicable to the fact."*
Secondly^ it assumes what is not true ; viz, that the
ideas which suggest each other must, at some previous
period, have been present together to the mind, and be-
come united, by some process which is not explained, in
indissoluble bonds. Suggestion is the result, it is imagined,
of association. One idea brings another into the mind,
in a manner somewhat similar to that, we presume, in
.which the last of the chain-shot invariably follows, when
the first in the train effects an entrance.
Now the whole of this statement is contradicted by
consciousness and fact. We see two objects, it may be,
at the same time ; we are conscious that we perceive
them simultaneously ; but we are not conscious of any
bond of union being thrown around them, which should
render a simultaneous conception of them, in all future
time, necessary. And, in point of fact, some ideas often
suggest others, which have never co-existed previously in
the same mind. We have most of us seen a giant ; we
may also have seen a dwarf; that is, not simultaneously,
but at different periods. And yet, in all probability, the
sight of one would instantly suggest the idea of the other^
This instance, referred to by Dr. Brown, affords most de-
cided proof that suggestion is not the result of association,
but that it must be referred to some other principle.
Thirdly^ it mistakes a particular rule, according to
which ideas are suggested, for the cause of their sugges-
tion. It is doubtless true, that when two objects have
been perceived simultaneously, the thought of one may
be afterward suggested to the mind by the presence of
the other ; but the ultimate reason of the suggestion is,
that the great Creator of the mind has imparted to it a
tendency to exist in certain states of thought and feeling,
after certain other states of thought and feeling ; or, in
other words, he has imparted to one thought or feeling,
an aptitude to produce a certain other thought or feeling.
This tendency to exist in certain states, after certain other
* Vol. I. pp. 283, 4.
25
194 CLASS I. IDEAS SUGGESTED.
States, is the great general law of the mind, as it relates
to the power of suggestion. The conception of a giant,
awakening the conception of a dwarf— the thought of a
river, bringing to our view the friend who perished in his
attempt to cross it — are individual cases of development
of this great law. They afford an illustration of two of
the rules,— the rule of contrast, and of contiguity, — ac-
cording to which the suggesting principle acts ; but they
do not exhibit the cause of the suggestion. It is not
more true, in the latter instance, than it can be in the
former, that the conception of one of the objects referred
to, suggests the other, because the two ideas have been
formerly associated. The suggestion takes place in both
instances, because there is an original tendency in the
mind to exist in certain states after certain other states —
a tendency which operates according to certain rules,
within the circle and influence of which, both the cases of
suggestion, of which we are now speaking, are found.
The general law is not that ideas which had been formerly
associated will suggest one another, and for that reason ;
but that there is a tendency in the mind to the suggestion
of RELATIVE CONCEPTIONS ; the giant, accordingly, suggests
the dwarf, and the river the death of our friend, because,
in the former instance, the two ideas sustain the relation
of contrast, and, in the latter, the relation of contiguity to
each other.
The tendency to which we now refer, is apt to be re-
garded as mysterious and wonderful ; but, in fact, it is not
more wonderful, that the mind should be formed to exist
in relative states, after relative states — or that one concep-
tion should introduce another, in some way related to it —
than that it should be so constituted, as to experience the
sensation of vision when the rays of light fall upon the re-
tina. However inexplicable the former process may be, it
is not more inexplicable than the other. "It is as little ne-
cessary," says Dr. Brown," to the suggestion, that there
should be any prior union or association of ideas, as to
vision, that there should be any mysterious connexion of the
organ with light, at some prior period to that in which light
NOT ASSOCIATED. 195
Itself first acted on the organ, and the visual sensation was
its consequence. As soon as the presence of the rays of
light at the retina has produced a certain affection of the
sensorium, in that very moment the mind begins to exist
in the state which constitutes the sensation of colour ; —
as soon as a certain perception or conception has arisen,
the mind begins to exist in the state which constitutes
what is said to be some associate conception. Any prior
connexion, or association, is as little necessary in the one
of these cases as in the other. All that is prior is not any
process connecting light with the organ, or the conception
of a giant with the conception of a dwarf, but only certain
original susceptibilities of the mind, by which it is formed,
to have, in the one case, some one of the sensations of
vision when light is at the retina — in the other case, to
have, in certain circumstances, the conception of a dwarfs
as immediately consecutive to that of a giant.''*
The reader must be on his guard against supposing that
the discussion to which his attention has been called, is a
mere dispute in regard to the best name by which to desig-
nate a certain power of mind. It supposes, on the contra-
ry, that the disputants entertain different views of the na-
ture of the mind. There is obviously a broad line of dis-
tinction between that philosophy, which maintains that no
ideas can suggest each other which have not been previ-
ously associated in the manner so frequently referred to, —
and a system which affirms, on the other hand, that the
suggestion is the result of a native susceptibility of mind, —
of an original tendency (to refer to one instance in illustra-
tion) to exist in that state which we call the conception of
a giant, after it has existed in that other state, which we
call the conception of a dwarf. In this instance, it is im-
possible that the suggestion should be the result of previous
association, since the very first time that the dwarf is per-
ceived, after we have become aware of the existence of
such a being as a giant, the conception of the latter will
be awakened. And, in cases where two ideas had previ-
* Vol. II. pp. 344, 5.
196 CLASS I. THE IMPORTANCE
ously co-existed, it is absurd to attempt to explain the fact
that one suggests the other, by the supposition that some
union was formed between them; since that would be to
explain one mystery by the introduction of another, — a
mode of explanation which has unfortunately been too
common in mental science.
This faculty of suggestion is one of the most valuable of
the mental powers ; the possession of it demands the most
fervent gratitude to that Great Being who has so richly
and mysteriously endowed the human mind. It is the re-
vealer to us of the past; it enahlp* ns to look into the
future. We are ready to imagine, as Dr. Brown justly ob-
serves, " that (he future memory of perception is involved in
perception itself," — that the mind could not, that is, exist
without the remembrance of pleasures formerly enjoyed,
or of sorrows long past and long endured. But we deceive
ourselves here. The faculty of suggestion is not essential
to the existence of the mind, how much soever it may be to
its comfort. And without the power of suggestion we
should be destitute of memory ; for memory, as we shall
presently see^ is suggestion ; it is thought, springing up
after thought, in the retrospect of former events,— carrying
us back, in imagination, to the scenes which it so vividly
revives, exciting a feeble reminiscence of the emotions
which those scenes themselves awakened, — and thus cau-
sing us to live over again the whole of our past lives. How
precious a gift is this, and how mysterious ! A power to
look back upon the past, would appear to us almost as
wonderful as an ability to look forwards into the future,
were it not that wonder is prevented by its actual posses-
sion. " When a feeling," says Dr. Brown, " of the exist-
ence of which consciousness furnishes the only evidence,
has passed away so completely^ that not even the slightest
consciousness of it remains, it would surely, but for this ex-
perience," or possession, " be more natural to conclude
that it had perished altogether, than that it should, at the
distance of many years, without any renewal of it, by the
external cause which originally produced it, again starts as
it were, of itself into being. To foresee that which has
OP THE FACULTY OF SUGGESTION. 197
not yet begun to exist, is, in itself, scarcely more unaccoun-
table, than to see, as it were, before us what has wholly
ceased to exist. The present moment is all of which we
are conscious, and which can strictly be said to have a real
existence, in relation to ourselves. That mode of time
which we call the past, and that other mode of time which
we call the future, are both equally unexisting ; that the
knowledge of either should be added to us" — the know-
ledge of the future, through the medium of the past — "so
as to form a part of our present consciousness, is a gift of
heaven, most beneficial to us, indeed, but most mysterious ;
and equally, or nearly equally mysterious, whether the un-
existing time, of which the knowledge is indulged to us, be
the future, or the past."*
The faculty of suggestion, then, is an original tendency
which the Creator of the mind has given to it, to exist in
certain states, after certain other states. It revives our
emotions, as well as our ideas ; though we now consider
its influence only as it is concerned in the introduction of
the latter. Such, at least is the doctrine both of Mr. Stew-
art and of Dr. Brown. I would beg to propose it as a
question, worthy of consideration, whether the power of
suggestion does in any instance, directly revive our emo-
tions. We recollect, indeed, the dying pangs of a beloved
friend with renewed grief. But the faculty of suggestion
carries us back, so to speak, into the very chamber; it places
the whole scene again before us : it revives that is, our for-
mer perceptions, or ideas; — may it not thus only indirectly
revive our former emotions?
But though the mind is so constituted as that certain
states follow other states, this suggestion does not take
place loosely and confusedly. " Any feeling does not fol-
low any feeling." There is a certain fixed and regular
order of sequence, ascertainable by experience, and by ex-
perience alone. And the business of the mental philoso-
pher is to observe this order, and to reduce the particular
cases of suggestion to general laws or tendencies of sug-
* Vol. II. p. 204.
198 CLASS I. LAWS OF SUGGESTION.
gestion ; which general laws, it is, however, most carefully
to be observed, are not to be regarded as the causes of
suggestion, but as descriptions of the usual manner in
which the power of suggestion operates.
The importance of this fact with reference to sugges-
tion is great. " If past objects and events had been sug-
gested to us again, not in that series in which they had
formerly occurred, but in endless confusion and irregu-
larity, the knowledge thus acquired, however gratifying
as a source of mere variety of feeling, would avail us lit-
tle, or rather would be wholly profitless, not merely in our
speculative inquiries as philosophers, but in the simplest
actions of common hfe. It is quite evident that, in this
case, we should be altogether unable to turn our expe-
rience to account, as a mode of avoiding future evil, or
obtaining future good ; because, for this application of our
knowledge, it would be requisite that events, before ob-
served, should occur to us at the time when similar events
might be expected. We refrain from tasting the poison-
ous berry, which we have known to be the occasion of
death to him who tasted it ; because the mere sight of it
brings again before us the fatal event which we have heard
or witnessed. We satisfy our appetite with a salutary
fruit, without the slightest apprehension ; because its fami-
liar appearance recalls to us the refreshment which we
have repeatedly received. But if these suggestions were
reversed, — if the agreeable images of health and refresh-
ment were all that were suggested by the poisonous plant,
and pain, and convulsions, and death were the only images
suggested by the sight of the grateful and nourishing fruit,
— there can be no doubt to which of the two our unfortu-
nate preference would be given."*
In suggestion, there is a tendency, as we have seen, to
relative conceptions ; so that all objects and ideas, which
sustain any relation to each other, are capable of suggest-
ing one another. To inquire, therefore, into the laws, ac-
cording to which the suggesting principle operates, is, in
* Vol. 11. pp. 205, 6.
LAWS OF SUGGESTION. 199
effect, to inquire what relations are to be found existing
amongst our multiplied thoughts and conceptions ; or to
endeavour to reduce them all, as several writers have done,
to a few general and comprehensive classes. Mr. Stewart
makes no attempt to do this, and for a reason which is not
altogether destitute of weight. In reference to Hume's
classification, he says, " It is not necessary for my present
purpose that I should enter into a critical examination of
this part of his system, or that I should attempt to specify
those principles of association which he has omitted. In-
deed it does not seem to me that the problem admits of a
satisfactory solution, for there is no possible relation among
the objects of our knowledge, which may not serve to con-
nect them together in the mind ; and, therefore, although
one enumeration may be more comprehensive than an-
other, a perfectly complete enumeration is scarcely to be
expected."*
We may grant to Mr. Stewart the truth of his concluding
remark, without conceding that we should make no effort
to enumerate and classify. Perfection can never be at-
tained by man ; so that if we were to do nothing, which
we cannot do perfectly, our time must be consumed in
total inactivity. And should any one, taking advantage
of the preceding statement, allege that an enumeration of
the laws of suggestion, being in effect merely a classifica-
tion of the relations of surrounding objects, is not adapted
to throw much light upon the nature of the mind, we an-
swer, that since the relations are perceived, or felt by the
mind, we do, in point of fact, enlarge our knowledge of
the mind by inquiring what are the relations which it is
capable of ascertaining.
Previously to the pubhcation of Mr. Hume's works, the
relations by which our thoughts are connected together, and
the laws which regulate their succession, were but little
attended to. He attempted to reduce all the principles of
association — or the general circumstances according to
which suggestion takes place — to the three following, tiz,
* Vol. I. p. 289.
'^00 FIRST LAW OF SUGGESTION.
Resemblance, Contiguity in time and place, and Cause
and Effect. Of this attempt Mr. Stewart says, " it was
great, and worthy of his genius ; but it has been shown bv
several writers since his time, that his enumeration is not
only incomplete, but that it is even indistinct as far as it
goes." It is, however, even more manifestly redundant
than incomplete, according to his own principle of ar-
rangement, inasmuch as Contiguity includes Causation.
Other objects may be proximate, but a cause and an effect
must be so, at any rate in reference to time ; and are, in-
deed, classed in the relation of contiguity, by Mr. Hume
himself, on that very account. Dr. Brown imagines that
all those relations which guide the operations of the sug-
gesting principle, may be reduced to the single relation of
contiguity ; for though the conception of a giant, and a
dwarf, for instance, may not have co-existed, each may
have co-existed with a ceriam emotion, so that either of
the objects, by awakening that emotion, may suggest the
other. If this delicate analysis should be allowed to
be just, no charge of incompleteness can attach to Mr.
Hume's classification. It would be difficult, however, to
reduce every case of suggestion to the influence of this
single law. I prefer, therefore, the classification of Hume,
(causation being included in contiguity) with the addition
of Contrast ; so that the three primary laws of suggestion
are, Resemblance, Contrast, and Contiguity.
FIRST LAW OF SUGGESTION.
RESEMBLANCE.
Under this general law are included a great variety of
individual cases of suggestion, differing in some respects
from each other.
Objects which hear a mutual resemblance will awaken
the conception of each other. An individual, whom we
have never seen, brings to our recollection on this account,
an old and familiar friend. The house of a total stranger
places vividly before us our own beloved home. A scene
in nature, on which we had never previously gazed, sug-
RESEMBLANCE. 201
gests a similar one in our immediate neighbourhood,
which has delighted us from the days of childhood. In
all these cases, it is to be especially observed, that resem-
bling states of mind are produced by the objects which
suggest each other, in consequence of the similar im-
pressions they make upon the organs of sense; and that
to this circumstance the suggestion is to be traced. The
mind has a tendency to exist in certain states, after cer-
tain other states. The great general law is, that states of
mind which bear any relation to each other, may suggest
one another ; states, therefore, which sustain the particular
relation of resemblance, will suggest each other. The
perception of the stranger's house, and the conception of
our own, are resembling states of mind ; the idea of one
will, therefore, introduce the idea of the other, because
there is a tendency in the mind to exist in resembling
states. The suggestion cannot in this case be the result of
association, because no idea of the stranger's house had
existed till the house was perceived, when it instantly
recalled the recollection of our own.
Analogous as well as resembling objects will suggest each
other. There is no actual resemblance between a brave
man, and a lion ; but there is a resemblance in the emo-
tion which the sight of each produces ; and hence the con-
templation of the deeds of the hero will suggest the notion
of a lion. A lamb is an inoffensive animal ; when obser-
ving it we are, accordingly, impressively reminded of the
comparative innocence of childhood. This case of sugges-
tion does not materially differ from the one already consi-
dered. It is by means of the production of similar states of
mind, that both resembling and analogous objects suggest
each other. The states in the former case, are what we
generally call ideas, or notions ; in the latter case, they are
emotions. Objects which resemble each other, suggest one
another, by producing resembling ideas ; objects which are
analogous to each other, perform the same work, by awa-
kening resembling emotions.
Many of our rhetorical figures owe their origin to these
analogies of objects, or their tendency to excite resembling
26
'202 FIRST LAW OF SU GUEST IO^.
emotions ; and it is upon the quickness of the mind in re-
cognizing these analogies, that some of its higher powers,
such as fancy, or imagination, depend. Under the impulse
of powerful feeling, which imparts an increased degree of
vigour to all the mental faculties, the strong emotion of the
moment will naturally suggest a variety of objects which
have excited similar states of emotion ; hence a profusion
of metaphors will be poured forth, for the metaphor, as it
has been justly said, is the natural vehicle of passion. In
the metaphor the analogy, or resemblance, is implied ; in
the simile it is expressed ; — that man is a lion — that man is
as brave as a lion. The simile is therefore obviously in-
consistent with the impetuosity of passion. In a state of
comparative coolness, we may stop to develope, and fully
exhibit the analogies which present themselves to the mind ;
but it is impossible to do this in a moment of great excite-
ment. " The mind, in this case, seizes the analogy with
almost unconscious comparison, and pours it forth in its
vigorous expression with the rapidity of inspiration. It
does not dwell on the analogies, which it seizes, and de-
serts, in like manner;"^ so that the blending together of
incongruous images, in the same paragraph, though it may
be assailed by that technical criticism which thinks only of
tropes, and figures, and the formal laws of rhetoric, may be
justified, as the same writer observes, " by the sounder cri-
ticism which founds its judgments on the everlasting prin-
ciples of our intellectual and moral nature,"
The metaphor, and the simile, aiford pleasure to the
mind, by bringing to view the analogies to which we have
referred. It is, therefore, necessary that these analogies be
not only real, but obvious, at least obvious when the atten-
tion is directed to them. It is important to add this clause
to the general assertion, because much of the high gratifi-
cation derived from works abounding in the kind of im-
agery we are now considering, results from the unthought
of analogies which they develope ; analogies that had not
previously occured to us, but which, when once unfolded,
we admit to be not less obvious than true to nature.
* Brown, Vol. IL p. 231.
RESEMBLANCK. '^03
It is a very important remark, also, that these figures
must not merely be just and obvious, but borrowed from
objects which might be naturally expected to occur to the
mind in the situation in which the comparison is made.
What we call far-fetched analogies are not similes, in which
there is no real analogy in the objects they compare, nor in
which the analogy is not so complete as in others whose
excellence we admit; " but they are those," says Dr. Brown,
" in which the analogy is sought for in objects, the natural
occurrence of which, to the mind of the writer in the cir-
cumstances in which he is supposed to be, does not seem
very probable." The same writer illustrates the truth and
justness of this remark by a reference to one of the stanzas
in Gray's Elegy in a Church-yard :
*' Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark anfath«m'd caves of ocean bear ;
Fall many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
•' The two similes in this stanza, certainly produce very
different -degrees of poetical delight. That wiiich is bor-
rowed from the rose, blooming in solitude, pleases in a very
high degree ; both as it contains a just and beautiful simi-
litude, and still more, as the similitude is one the most like-
ly to have arisen to a poetic mind, in such a situation. But
the simile in the first two lines of the stanza, though it may,
perhaps, philosophically be as just, has no other charm ;
and strikes us immediately as not the natural suggestion of
such a moment, and such a scene." There is an analogy
doubtless between talents and virtues in the obscurity of
deep poverty, and a jewel concealed from the view of all,
at the bottom of the ocean ; but it is an analogy, not likely
to be suggested by the scenery of the church-yard ; and,
therefore, it yields less satisfaction than the other.
This tendency of the mind to the suggestions of analogy,
contributes to enlarge the boundaries of the arts and sci-
ences. In the contemplation of a certain result, there will
occur to the mind all the variety of analogous means,
which might lead to the production of it. '' When a me-
204 SECOND LAW OP SUGGESTION,
chanician sees a machine," says Dr. Brown, " the parts oi
which all concur in one great ultimate effect, if he be bless-
ed with inventive genius," i, e. if there be a tendency in
his mind to suggestions of analogy, " he will not merely
see and comprehend the uses of the parts, as they co-ope-
rate in the particular machine before him, but there will,
perhaps, arise in his mind the idea of some power j yet un-
applied to the same purpose ; some simpler process, by
which the ultimate effect may be augmented or improved,
or at least obtained at less cost of time, or labour, or capi-
tal. When the crucible of the chemist presents to him
some new result, and his first astonishment is over, there
arises in his mind the ideas of products or operations, in
some respects analogous, by the comparison of which he
discovers some new element, or combination of elements,
and perhaps changes altogether the aspect of his science.
A Newton sees an apple fall to the ground, and he disco-
vers the system of the universe. In these cases, the prin-
ciple of analogy, whether its operation be direct, or indi-
rect, is too forcible, and too extensive in its sway, to admit
of much dispute."^'
SECOND LAW OF SUGGESTION.
CONTRAST.
The mind has a tendency to exist in successive states
which are opposite to, as well as resemble one another.
This is another of the general laws, according to which
the principle of suggestion operates. Hence the concep-
tion of a giant, may be immediately succeeded by the con-
ception of a dwarf. The latter idea does not arise as the
result of some previous association between it and the idea
of a giant ; but in consequence of an original tendency of
the mind to exist in these successive states ; of which no
other account can be given, than that such is the constitu-
tion which its Creator has imparted to it. Objects^ accord-
ingly, which present themselves in the light of contrast^ will
"^ Vol. n. pp. 237, 8.
CONTRAST. 205
suggest each other. The sight of a city, sacked and de^
stroyed by a victorious and infuriated army — its houses
laid in ruins — its palaces reduced to ashes — its streets ren-
dered impassable by the bloody and mangled remains of
the thousands of warriors who fell in its defence, and to
whom no right of sepulture had been extended, — can
scarcely fail to be succeeded by the conception of the same
city in the day of its prosperity and joyousness — when its
edifices were the theme of universal praise — when the
voice of gladness was heard in all its dwellings, and the
smile of comfort rested on every countenance.
Opposite conditions suggest one another. The state of
infancy, suggests that of old age ; the state of old age, that
of infancy. The conception of prosperity is succeeded by
that of adversity, and the contrary. We can scarcely see
an individual in firm and vigourous health, without think-
ing of the time when disease may reduce him to a state of
decrepitude. Nor can we look at the " imperial victor
moving along in all the splendour of majesty and con-
quest," without recollecting that, if he retain his supre-
macy among men, there is a mightier arm even than his,
which, in the brief space of a few hours, can bring him
down, even to the grave. Dr. Brown thinks that this ten-
dency of the mind to pass from one state to its opposite, is
a happy contrivance of nature, or, as I would rather say, a
wise provision of the God of nature, for tempering that
excess of emotion which might result from too long a con-
tinuance of the same feeling. It may awaken salutary re-
flection in the minds of the rich and great ; it can scarcely
fail to cherish the principle of hope in the bosoms of the
most wretched of our race. Present misery suggests, by
the law of contrast, the conception of past enjoyment ; and
though, for a time, this may even aggravate our distress,
yet the images of past delight cannot long be present to
the mind, without awakening trains of thought corres-
ponding with themselves, " and in some degree the hap-
py emotions with which they were connected — emotions
which dispose the mind more readily to the belief, that
'206 THIRD LAW OF SUGGESTION.
the circumstances which have been may yet again recur ;^
and thus the gracious Author of our being, " has provided
an internal source of comfort, in the very excess of misery
itself."
To this tendency of the principle of suggestion, we are
indebted for the rhetorical figure called Antithesis. It
both prompts the orator to the use of the figure, and ren-
ders it to his hearers pleasing and effective. " Of the
eternity of ages, and the few hours of life — the Almighty
power of God, and human nothingness — it is impossible
to think in succession, without a feeling like that which is
produced by the sublimest eloquence." Impressive, how-
ever, as this figure is — and indeed because it is so — it
ought to be cautiously and sparingly introduced ; our
thoughts and images must not appear to be the result of
labour, they should seem to rise spontaneously. And it is
impossible that this should be the case, if they display not
a variety corresponding with the diversified ways in which
the principle of suggestion, left to its own guidance, loves
to develope its powers. The field of thought requires
variegated tints, and colours, and species, as well as the
garden ; in which a continuous succession of clusters of
the same flower would prove monotonous and tiresome,
even though that flower should be the jessamine or the
rose.
THIRD LAW OF SUGGESTION.
CONTIGUITy.
Objects contiguous in place suggest one another to the
mind. " To think of one part of an extended landscape,"
says Dr. Brown, '• is to recall the whole. The hill, the
grove, the church, the bridge, and all the walks that lead
to them, rise before us in immediate succession." The
conception of a certain town brings into distinct mental
view, the streets, and the exact succession of houses ; and,
especially, that house which has been long hallowed to
our recollections as the abode of tried friendship, and
=^ Vol. II. p. 258.
CONTIGUITY. 207
eminent piety. The name of a certain country recalls to
our remembrance all the neighbouring ones, and thus
renders attainable the knowledge of the geography of the
globe. If places had not suggested contiguous places —
'• if the idea of the river Nile had been as quick to arise
on our conception of Greenland as on that of Egypt" —
" it is evident that however intently, and frequently, we
might have traced, on our maps, every boundary of every
province of every nation on our globe, all would have
been, in our mind, one mingled chaos of cities, and
streams, and mountains."*
There are cases in which the joint influence of resem-
blance, and contiguity of place or time, are discernible.
A stranger, whose eyes resemble those of a particular
friend, though his general countenance should be totally
dissimilar, will suggest the conception of our friend. Dr.
Brown says of this, and, indeed, of every case of resem-
blance, that it may be reduced from direct resemblance,
to the influence of mere contiguity. With submission to
this distinguished writer, 1 am disposed to regard this
statement as being only partially true. When the con-
ception of our friend's eyes has arisen, it is not difl5cult to
see how that will recall, by the third law of suggestion,
his whole countenance and person. But how does the
conception of his eyes arise ? Not surely by contiguity.
The stranger's eyes have never perhaps been contiguous,
certainly not in our recollection, to those of our friend.
The latter must, therefore, be introduced by the law of
resemblance, and not of contiguity. And I feel a strong
persuasion that this instance, in connexion with kindred
ones, is fatal to Dr. Brown's opinion, that all suggested
feelings may be reduced to one law — the law of proximity,
or contiguity.
Things and events contiguous in point of time suggest
one another. When we revert to the season of boyhood,
we find ourselves surrounded, in imagination, with the
juvenile associates in our games, and sports. If we pos-
sess a tolerably competent knowledge of history, the re-
* Brown, Vol. II. pp. 266, 7.
■^^^^p*
208 THIRD LAW OP SUGGESTION.
collection of some remarkable circumstance will recall all
the contemporaneous events. Contiguity in time, indeed,
" forms the whole calendar of the great multitude of
mankind, who pay little attention to the arbitrary eras of
chronology, but date events by each other, and speak of
what happened in the time of some persecution, or re-
bellion, or great war, or frost, or famine. Evefi with those
who are more accustomed to use, on great occasions, the
stricter dates of months and years, this association of
events as near to each other, forms the great bond for
uniting in the memory those multitudes of scattered facts
which form the whole history of domestic life, and which
it would have been impossible to remember, by their
separate relation to some insulated point of time."*
There can be little doubt, indeed, that the mode of
studying history, at which we have just glanced, will be
found, in most cases, to be the most expedient. Let the
inquirer divide the whole time which has elapsed since the
date of authentic history into periods of not more than
forty or fifty years each, and then contemplate the re-
markable persons and occurrences of each period, and he
will find that the law of contiguity throws so firm a bond
of union around them, (I must not be understood literally
here,) that the period will suggest the occurrences — and,
on the other hand, that each single event, will suggest the
contemporaneous events, as well as the general date at
which they all happened.
The great law of suggestion, which we are now consi-
dering, explains, as we shall afterward see, the phaeno-
mena of recollection, as that word is used, in distinction
from memory.
It unfolds, also, the manner in which children rise to the
knowledge of language. The sign is pronounced, while
the object signified by it is presented to their view ; and,
being thus contiguous in time and place, the sign and the
object suggest each other.
Further, connected as well as contemporaneous events
1 Brown, Vol. II. pp. 265,6.
CONTIGUITY. liQiO
will suggest one another ; and the suggestion takes place,-
whether the connexion be casual or invariable. The late
destruction of machinery, in this neighbourhood, was con-
nected with commercial distress -, and, in future years, we
shall never think of the one, without recollecting the other :
here the connexion, though natural, was yet accidental.
The conception of a cause is followed by the conception
of an effect, &C. ; here the connexion is constant, and in-
variable. Other objects may be proximate in time, but a
cause and its effects are always so ; they will, accordingly^
more readily and certainly suggest each other.
To this law of suggestion we are, in part at least, in-f
debted for our knowledge of science ; for science is, as we?
have seen, the knowledge of the relations of bodies to
each other — of which their relation, in reference to time,
is one of the most important. Were it not an original
tendency of the mind for antecedents to suggest consc
quents, and consequents antecedents, we should in vain
search for science and practical wisdom amongst men^
Experience of the past would afford no guide with respect
to the future ; and it is difficult to conceive how the htr^
man family could, in such circumstances, be preserved
from utter extinction^
There is thus a connetioTi in the thnnghts, and feelings
of the mind. One state is followed by another state, ac-
cording to a certain order of sequence ascertainable by
experience, and experience * alone, — of which order no
other account can be given, than that the Almighty has
impressed upon the mind a tendency to exist in these suc-
cessive states. The general tendency operates, as we have
seen, according to certain laws, to which we give the
names of Resemblance, Contrast, and Contiguity. The
perception of a tempest, for instance, may bring to our
recollection a similar one which occurred some time ago
— or it may lead us to think of the brightness and calm-
ness of the preceding day — or it may present to our view
the awful condition of some valued friend, over whose
bark, as it rides upon the waves, it is at that very moment
sweeping with much more threatening fury — or it may
27
210 THIRD LAW or SUGGESTJOA.
cause our thoughts to dwell upon the devastations which
will enable us but too easily to track its course, ere it sub-
side. Now, if the occurrence to which we have referred,
may suggest any one of these conceptions, it becomes an
interesting inquiry, " how does it happen that one is ac-
tually suggested, rather than another ? How does it come
to pass, that the same event awakens different suggestions
in different minds — and even in the same mind, at differ-
ent periods and times ?"
There must be circumstances which modify the influ-
ence of these general laws, or it would follow, not only
that our thoughts and feelings would invariably arrange
themselves in the same order of sequence — which we are
certain is not the case ; but that the history, or, if I may so
speak, the map of one mind, would exhibit, with perfect
correctness, the mind of the species— no difference exist-
ing between one mind and another, save in the vividness
of colouring, or, in other words, in the liveliness of feelings
which uniformly follow in the same course.
To these modifying circumstances which vary the train
of thought, and feeling, in different minds — and in the
same mind, at different periods — by inducing one concep-
tion, rather than others, which might have existed by the
primary laws of suggestion. Dr. Brown gives the name of
secondary laws of suggestion. Some of them embody
the rules which have been given by various writers for the
improvement of the memory, and, in this point of view,
they will be found very useful. They are, in substance, as
follows :
First, those thoughts or feelings will be most likely to
suggest one another, which, when they first co-existed, or
succeeded each other, remained for the longest time in the
mind.
Secondly, those which were originally the most lively.
Thirdly, those which have been most frequently found
in a state of union.
Fourthly, those which have been most recently expe-
rienced.
Fifthly, those which have co-existed less with other
feelings.
CONTIGUITY. '2\l
Sixthly, the influence of the primary laws is modified by
constitutional differences. The general power of sugges-
tion itself may be more vigorous in one mind, than in an-
other ; or there may be, in different minds, original tenden-
cies to different species of suggestions. To illustrate this
subject, let us suppose that, in three individuals, the prin-
ciple of suggestion exhibits the following varieties. To
the mind of the first, the objects which he beholds habi-
tually suggest resembling objects ; to that of the second,
contrary, or contrasted objects ; to that of the third, conti-
guous objects. How different, in this case, must be the
conceptions which the tempest, to which we referred a
short time ago, would excite in the bosoms of these men !
That there is an original difference of tendency in the
principle of suggestion, cannot be doubted ; and, in all
probability, it is, as Dr. Brown imagines, upon a constitu-
tional tendency to suggestions of analogy, that the exalted
faculty, which we call genius, depends. The splendid
imagery of the poet is built, as we have seen, upon ana-
logy — upon the shadowy resemblances of objects to each
other, or rather upon their tendency to awaken similar
emotions. There is thus an analogy between a veteran
chief, to whom the remembrance only of glory remains,
and a majestic oak, stripped by age of its verdure ; the
sight of one may therefore recall the other. But if there
be not a natural tendency to suggestions of analogy — or if
the mind of an observer be dull, and cold ; and, in a great
degree, unsusceptible of emotion of any kind, the two ob-
jects, in consequence of the faintness of the resembling
and connecting emotion which they produce, will not be
likely to suggest each other, in order to the suggestion,
in this case, it would be necessary that some master mind
should have previously placed them before his view in the
relation of contiguity ; and then they will, of course, re-
call each other by the third law of suggestion. In the
former case, the man is a genius ; in the latter, a mere
imitator. For the creations of genius, as we call them,
are the suggestions of analogy. They result, probably,
from a quicker and a more delicate susceptibility of emo-
tion ; in consequence of which, objects which produce re-
•f2ly THIRD LAW OF SUGGESTION.
sembling emotions suggest one another ; the fancy becomes
creative, and the poet exhibits " new forms of external
beauty, or of internal passion, which crowd upon his mind
by their analogy to ideas and feelings previously existing."
An equal variety and beauty of imagery may flow from the
pen of an inferior poet ; but his splendid figures are not the
creations of his own mind ; i. e. they are not suggestions
of analogy, but of contiguity. The subject which he en-
deavours to illustrate, and the imagery he employs for that
purpose, had been brought together by preceding writers ;
they suggest each other by contiguity ; and his poetry is
an effort not of genius, but of memory. " Copious read-
ings, and a retentive memory," says Dr. Brown, *^may
give to an individual of very humble talent a greater pro-
fusion of splendid images, than existed in any one of the
individual minds on whose sublime conceptions he has
dwelt, till they have become, in one sense of the word, his
own. There is scarcely an object which he perceives that
may not now bring instantly before him the brightest ima-
gery ; but for this suggestion, however instant and copi-
ous, previous co-existence, or succession of the images,
was necessary ; and it is his memory, therefore, which we
praise. If half the conceptions which are stored in his
mind, and which rise in it now in its trains of thought
by simple suggestion, as readily as they arose in like man-
ner in accordance with some train of thought in the mind
of their original authors, had but risen by the suggestion of
analogy, as they now arise by the suggestion of former
proximity, what we call memory, which is, in truth, only
the same suggestion in different circumstances, would
have been fancy, or genius ; and his country and age would
have had another name to transmit to the reverence and
the emulation of the ages that are to follow."*'
Seventhly, the primary laws are modified not only by
constitutional differences, which are of course permanent,
but also by others which are less permanent ; by the days,
or hours, or minutes, of good or bad humour, and in gene-
ral of all the emotions, pleasing or painful, that are able
* Vol. TI. pp. 277. B,
CONTIGUITY. '2ld
while they last to warm even the sullen to occasional
sprightliness and kindness, or by an opposite transforma-
tion, to convert the gay to grave, the lively to severe.
Eighthly by the state of the body.
Lastly by habit. There are tenden-
cies of mind acquired by habit, which operate somewhat
in the same manner, with constitutional differences, to mo-
dify the successions of our thoughts. The truth of this is
evinced by the different conceptions which are awakened
in the minds of men of different professions by hearing the
same story, or perusing the same book.
With reference to the general subject of suggestion, two
circumstances further deserve our attention.
The Jirst is, that the liveliness of suggested feelings de-
pends upon the manner of their introduction into the mind.
The conception of our native land, for instance, when at a
distance from it, and destitute of all the comforts which
are only to be enjoyed there, however that conception
may arise, must always be interesting and affecting ; yet
will it be more especially so, if it is awakened by the un-
expected sight of an object which came from that land, and
which transports us back again, as it were, to our own fire-
side. The well known story of the pewter spoon, stamped
with the word London, found by Captain King at the ex-
tremity of the globe, admirably illustrates the foregoing
statement.
The superior influence of objects of perception in stimu-
lating the suggesting principle, Mr. Stewart explains on
the ground of their permanent operation, as exciting or
suggesting causes. " When a train of thought," says he,
" takes its rise from an idea or conception, the first idea
soon disappears, and a series of others succeeds, which are
gradually less and less related to that with which the train
commenced; but in the case of perception, the exciting
cause remains steadily before us ; and all the thoughts and
feelings which have any relation to it, crowd into the mind
in rapid succession ; strengthening each other's effects,
and all conspiring in the same general impression."*
* Vol.1, p. 281.
214 THIRD LAW OF SUGGESTION.
Now if the suggested feeling produced by an object of
perception grew in vividness as these thoughts and feelings
crowd into the mind, I should think this statement of Mr.
Stewart not only ingenious, but satisfactory. The contra-
ry, however, will, I apprehend, be found to be the case.
The strongest burst of feeling is at the moment of percep-
tion, before there has been time for the gathering and
bringing forward of this crowd of associate ideas. Dr.
Brown supposes that the object before us awakens a vari-
ety of associate feelings, which mingle with the perception
itself, and form with it one complex feeling ; and that the
felt reality of the object perceived, gives to the whole of
these associate feelings the temporary illusion of reality.
Without expressing any decided opinion on this point, 1
am ready to concede to Dr. Brown, that when for the first
time after the death of a friend, we are introduced into his
study, we feel as if we were again in his presence ; and
should regard it, as Mr. Stewart says, " a sort of violation
of that respect we owe to his memory, to engage in any
light or indifferent discourse, with the materials of his for-
mer occupation before us." How this should take place
without something of that illusion, of which Dr. Brown
speaks, it is, perhaps, difficult to conceive.
The second remark is, that when we speak of an object,
or conception, introducing a train of thought into the
mind, we are not to suppose that, as in a procession of
visible figures, one idea vanishes from our view when the
others become visible. On the contrary, the prior con-
ception, in such a case, often remains, so as to co-exist
with the conception it has itself introduced ; and may
afterward introduce other conceptions, or feelings, with
which it may co-exist, in like manner, in a still more com-
plex group. The sight of a book, for instance, the gift of
a valued friend, introduces the conception of that friend,
of his family, of an evening which we have spent with
them, and of various subjects of our conversation. AH
these conceptions exist simultaneously. Our friend does
not introduce his family, so to speak, and then disappear.
He himself remains, as part of the group ; and may be
ATTENTIOX. 215
the source of innumerable other conceptions, all bearing
some degree of relation to him.
Were it not for this circumstance, as Dr. Brown very
justly remarks, it would be impossible to think of the
same subject even for a single minute. The conception
of that subject would introduce some other conception ;
that, in the same manner, would give rise to a third ; so
that if the original conception could not co-exist with the
following ones, it must perish almost as soon as it arose.
Yet we know that the fact is very ditferent, and that we
"• often occupy whole hours in this manner, without any
remarkable deviation from our original design. Innume-
rable conceptions, indeed, arise during this time, but all are
more or less intimately related to the subject, by the con-
tinued conception of which they have every appearance
of being suggested ; and, if it be allowed that the concep-
tion of a particular subject both suggests trains of concep-
tions, and continues to exist together with the conception
which it has suggested, every thing for which 1 contend
in the present case, is implied in the admission."*
Were this co-existence of conceptions and feelings im-
possible, there could be no selection either in the prosecu-
tion of an argument, or in the choice of imagery. Ta
choose necessarily supposes that more than one argument,
or image, is in the view of the mind ; which could not be
the case if, when one arises, all others cease to exist.
ATTENTION.
Before we leave the subject of the co-existence of feel-
ings, it may be desirable to say something with regard to
Attention, as it will be found to involve co-existing feel-
ings, viz. desire, in union with some other affection of
the mind. By most writers, previous to the time of
Dr. Brown, attention was regarded as an original power
of the mind. It is said by one individual, who ex-
hibits the general doctrine upon the subject, that though
sensations are intended to make us acquainted with
external things, yet that before any internal percep-
* Bro^vn, Vol. II. pp. 324, 5.
216 ATTENTION
tion or knowledge of the external objects can be ob-
tained, the notice of the mind must be directed to them.
Attention is, therefore, defined as " that faculty by which
the mind is enabled to notice the objects around us,
and, by that notice, to acquire the knowledge of things."
I do not dwell upon the mistake involved in this language
with respect to the nature of the knowledge we pos-
sess of external things ; it is to another point that I now
refer. The statement supposes that there may be sensa-
tion, but not perception, without attention ; because (for
such is manifestly its import) perception is the knowledge
of things ; and things must be noticed before they can be
known. And, such notice being necessary, there must be
a power to notice them ; to which power the name of
Attention is given. A few remarks will, I trust, render it
manifest that we have no need of any such power — that all
the phsenomena of attention may be accounted for, by sup-
posing the co-existence of desire, with perception, or with
one of the internal affections of the mind.
Upon the nature of Desire, it is not necessary now to
enter ; all are sufficiently acquainted with it for our pre-
sent purpose. Of what, then, besides desire, in union with
some other mental affection, are we really conscious, when
what we call attention is exercised ? We hear a low and
indistinct murmuring. We listen to it — or direct the at-
tention of the mind to it. But what is the meaning of
these expressions — or what is it that takes place in the
mind, in the case now supposed ? On the most careful
examination, can any thing more be discovered, than de-
sire to ascertain the nature or cause of the sound, co-ex-
isting with the sensation itself— in connexion with an ef-
fort to place the organ in the most favourable position for
catching the undulations of the air, as they approach ?*
If the murmuring should gradually subside, so as to be-
come quite inaudible, while what is called attention re^
* As a general remark it may be observed, that the eifort, of which we
seem to be conscious in attention, is an eflfort to preserve the muscles in that
stale of contraction, which is most favourable for gaining the information
desired.
H
NOT AN ORIGINAL POWER. 2^7
mains, what would attention, in that* case, be but expec-
tation of its return, in union with the continued desire of
ascertaining from what it results, and the bodily effort to
which we have referred ? I am unable to conceive what
else can be included in it. Similar remarks may be
made with regard to attention, when the object which
awakens it is not any thing external, but something rn the
mind itself; it is desire, co-existing with the particular
state of mind, the nature of which we wish more distinctly
to ascertain.
I must not, however, dismiss this subject, without refer-
ring to the cases which are supposed to afford support to
the doctrine, that attention is an original power of the
mind. It is a well-known fact, that impressions are some-
times made, by external objects, upon the organs of sense,
without awakening the sensations which are ordinarily
produced ; — or, at any rate, the sensations, if there are
any, are so faint that, if we are conscious of them, they
leave no traces in the memory. Upon this fact some
philosophers build their opinion, that attention is a dis-
tinct and an original faculty, and that the mind is not en-
tirely passive even in sensation. Their argument is ai*
follows. There cannot be sensation, without attention.
The support of this proposition is rested upon the fact to
which we have just alluded ' for it is presumed by them,
that, in the cases we are now considering, there is no
sensation, because the attention of the mind is engrossed
by something else; and upon this assumption, for it is=
nothing more, they build the general doctrine, that there
can be no sensation without attention. And because the
mind is active in attention, which is thus affirmed to be ne-
cessary, in all cases, to sensation, the mind is not, they
think, altogether passive in sensation itself. It might be
observed here, that the whole of the preceding statement
manifests those obscure notions concerning the activity
and passivity of the mind, to which it was found necessary
formerly to advert.* On this, however, I do not now dwelL
* ^trf«p.75-
28
218 ATTENTION
The reader is merely requested to observe that, according
to the doctrine we are considering, the attention of the
mind must always be awakened previous to sensation, or
there could be no sensation. And this remark enables us
to detect, what I will venture to call, the absurdity of the
whole theory ; for it supposes a connexion between matter
and mind, in order to account for the connexion which is
known to exist between them. The difficulty is to show
how an impression, made upon a material organ, should
be followed by sensation which is altogether in the mind.
This difficulty it is attempted to remove, by introducing
the supposition that the mind attends to impressions made
upon the organs of sense (a statement, by the bye, which is
utterly unmeaning) — a supposition grounded upon the fact
referred to above — and so receives sensations from them !
But, if that be the case, the impression, upon the bodily or-
gan, must arouse the attention of the mind, in cases where
the mind was inntteniive, previous to sensation ! And what
is it to affirm this, but in effect to say, that a connexion
between matter and mind is actually formed, before it is
possible to form one ? Or, not to press this statement, are
we not impelled to put the question, " If an impression,
upon a bodily organ, can immediately and directly pro-
duce attention, which is one state of mind — why may it
not directly produce sensation, which is another state of
mind?" The grand difficulty, as these writers imagine at
least, though there is no especial difficulty, as we have
seen, in the case, is to get over the gulf between matter
and mind ; if we can surmount that difficulty, it must be
as easy to reach the port of sensation, as that of attention.
But, as it still remains a fact that impressions are made
upon the bodily organs which are not followed, to say the
least of it, by the ordinarily vivid sensations which attend
them, how is this fact, it will be said^ to be accounted for,
if we deny that attention is a distinct power of the mind,
and so do not ascribe the want of sensation, in the cases
referred to, to the momentary 272attention of the mind ? I
answer, that there would be no absurdity in regarding it as
an ultimate law of the mind, that, when desire co-exists
NOT AN ORIGINAL POWER. til9
with any sensation, the mind is thereby rendered partly in-
capable of receiving any other sensation. All that could
be said would be, that though the mind is so constituted as
to be able to receive, with equal readiness, any sensation
when it is not under the stimulus of desire ; — yet that it is
not so constituted as to receive all sensations, with the
same degree of readiness, while that stimulus remains ; but
that sensation only, or chiefly, with which the desire co-
exists. And if any should be disposed to regard it as won-
derful, if not incredible, that the mind should be partly di-
vested of its powers to receive sensations with equal readi-
ness, while under the influence of this stimulus, I would
remind them that it is not more wonderful, than that the
mind should possess this power, when it is not under the
stimulus to which we refer.
There is no necessity, however, to suppose that this par-
ticular influence of desire upon our sensations, is an ulti-
mate law of the mind ; it may be resolved into a more ge-
neral law — as the descent of a stone to the earth, may be
resolved into the general law of gravitation. Dr. Brown
states, and his statement is confirmed by the testimony of
experience, that it is the nature of our emotions, of every
sort, to render more vivid all the mental affections with
which they happen at any time to be combined ; as if their
own vivacity were in some measure divided with them.
Desire, accordingly, co-existing with a sensation, for in-
stance, will render that sensation peculiarly vivid. And it
is a law of sensation, and indeed, of all our mental affec-
tions, that when one becomes pre-eminently vivid, the rest,
which co-exist with it, fade in proportion so as scarcely to
be felt. "A thousand faint sounds murmur around us,
which are instantly hushed by any loud noise. If, when
we are looking at the glittering firmament of suns in a win-
ter night, any one of those distant orbs were to become as
radiant as our own sun, which is itself but the star of our
planetary system, there can be no question that, like our
sun on its rising, it would quench, with its brilliancy, all
those little glimmering lights, which would still shine on us,
indeed, as before, but would shine on us without being
220 THE NATURE OP ATTENTION
perceived. It may be regarded, then, as another general
law of the mind, that when many sensations, of equal in-
tensity, co-exist, the effect of the increased intensity of one,
is a diminished intensity of those which co-exist with it."*
Here, then, we have a simple and intelligible explana^
tion of the fact which is adduced by a writer in the Ency--
clopaedia Britannica, to sustain his doctrine concerning at-
tention and sensation. " He," says this writer, " whose
mind is intensely employed in any particular pursuit, may
have his eyes open upon an object which he sees not, or
he may not hear the sound of a clock striking within two
yards of him; nay, we will venture to affirm, that there is
hardly one reader of this article, to whom such absences of
sensation have not occurred. Now, as there is no reason
to suppose that, in the one case, the undulations of the air,
caused by the striking of the clock, did not reach his ears,
or, that in the other, the rays of light reflected from the ob-
ject, did not fall upon his eyes, which were open to receive
them; the only reason which can be assigned for his not
having, in these instances, had audible and visible sensa-
tions, is that his mind was so engaged in something else,
as not to pay to the vibrations of his brain that attention,
if we may so say, without which impressions ab extra can
produce no sensation."!
Now to this theory there are only two or three objec-
tions. In the first place, no one knows that there are
any such vibrations in the brain, as this writer takes for
granted ; in the second place, if their existence could be
proved, it would be about as rational to talk of paying at-
tention to them, as of paying attention to the motions of the
animal spirits,— or to the groves, and seas, and mountains,
if such there be, that lie hid under the belts of Jupiter; in
the third place, the explanation of the fact, which this writer
has suggested, leaves it as much involved in mystery as be-
fore. In the circumstances referred to, the individual had
not sensation, because his attention was engaged by some-
thing else ; this is the amount of the explanation ; a state-
* Vol. II. pp. 133, 4. t Vide Article Metaphysics.
EXPLAINED. '221
merit which necessarily supposes, that there is no difficulty
in accounting for sensation when the mind exercises atten-
tion — that the introduction of the supposed act of atten-
tion explains the whole matter at once. Let this writer be
told, on the contrary, that after he has given the best de-
finition of the word attention, in this connexion, which he
can either produce or procure, he has in- reality explained
nothing ; since it is just as difficult to account for sensa-
tion when the mind is attentive, as when it is inattentive.
The writer should have been satisfied with stating the fact
as an ultimate fact, without attempting to assign a reason
for it ; for the only thing that can be said, when sensation
does not thus follow an impression upon the organ by
which it is usually produced, is, that the mind is under the
stimulus of strong desire, with reference to some other
sensation or conception. This stimulus, in common with
all our emotions, brightens, or renders more vivid, that
particular conception or sensation ; and all accompanying
ones become, by a law of the mind, so faint as scarcely to
be perceived. On this subject the reader should carefully
consult Dr. Brown,* where the radical doctrine now stated
is illustrated most ingeniously ; though the particular il-
lustration adopted by him, involves specialities in it, which
render it of more difficult application to the explanation
of attention in general.
The preceding account of what actually takes place in
the ^mind when we are said to exercise attention, recom-
mends itself by its simplicity and intelligibility; and, in this
respect, it forms a striking contrast to the sentiments of
those who regard attention as an original faculty, and yet
are unable to explain what they mean by it. The following
statement by Mr. Stewart, is not a little remarkable. Ha-
ving supported, at some length, the opinion that an effort
of attention is necessary to the lowest degree of memory,
he proceeds, not as we might expect him, to explain what
that eflfort is, nor to tell us that it does not need explana-
tion, — but to say, " With respect to the nature of this effort,
* Vol. II. pp. 131— 156.
'2*22 THE NATURE OF AFFECTION EXPLAINED.
it is, perhaps, impossible for us to obtain much satisfaction.
We often speak of greater and less degrees of attention ;
and, I believe, in these cases conceive the mind (if I may
use the expression) to exert itself with different degrees of
energy. I am doubtful, however, if this expression con-
veys any distinct meaning. For my own part, I am in-
clined to suppose (though I would by no means be under-
stood to speak with confidence) that it is essential to me-
mory, that the perception, or the idea, that we wish to re-
member, should remain in the mind for a certain space of
time, and should be contemplated by it exclusively of every
thing else, and that attention consists partly (perhaps en-
tirely) in the effort of the mind to detain the idea or the
sensation, and to exclude the other objects that solicit its
notice. Notwithstanding, however, the difficulty af ascer-
taining in what this act of the mind consists, every person
must be satisfied of its reality from his own consciousness ;
and of its essential connexion with the power of memory.''*
With deference to Mr. Stewart, I cannot avoid thinking,
that his definition of attention, " as an effort of the mind
to detain an idea, or a sensation," does not give any very
intelligible account of the matter ; and that his concluding
words are very extraordinary. If the effort, of which ho
speaks, were a developement of a simple and original
power of the mind, how could it be unintelligible, any
more than other simple and original feelings ? The dark-
ness which appears to rest on Mr. Stewart's mind is, I ap-
prehend, the entire result of his mistake in classing atten-
tion with the original powers of the mind. Had it occur-
red to him, that it may possibly admit of analysis, he could
scarcely have failed to perceive, with Dr. Brown, that it is
desire, co-existing with some other mental affection. And,
as it is a secondary law of suggestion, that the most lively
feelings will ^be the most readily suggested, he would have
seen the influence of desire, which always imparts liveli-
ness to a particular sensation, or conception, to fix it in the
memory.
=^ Vol. I. pp. 107. 8.
CONCEPTION, MEMORY, IMAGINATION. !225
CONCEPTION, MEMORY, IMAGINATION.
From the general view which has thus been given of
faculty of suggestion, or of the tendency of the mind to
exist in certain states, after certain other states, it will, I
doubt not, occur to the thoughtful reader, that it is possi-
ble to reduce, to this single law, all the phsenomena of
Conception, Memory, Imagination and Habit, — words
which have been usually regarded as denoting so many
distinct and original powers of the mind. I shall, to a
certain extent, mingle together the remarks I have to make
upon the three former of these supposed powers, — pre-
senting the reader, in the first place, with the opinions of
preceding philosophers, and then showing in what light
they are exhibited by the doctrines contained in the fore-
going pages.
Some difference of opinion on minor points, is certainly
displayed by former writers ; but I believe it has been
generally maintained by them that conception, memory,
and imagination, are distinct and original powers of the
mind ; the first enabling us to make any thing formerly
perceived, an object of thought, so as, if painters, to sketch
a copy of it ; the second^ recognizing this thing as a former
object of perception ; and the thirds giving us the power
to form a notion of what we have never seen, and which
may not in fact be in existence.
Of the differences to which I have alluded, the follow-
ing constitute a part. Dr. Reid uses the word conception,
so as to include in it our notions, or apprehensions, of gene-
ral propositions ; so that we may be said to conceive of ar-
guments by which the truth of any doctrine may be sup-
ported : while Mr. Stewart wishes to confine its application
to our perceptions and sensations ; so that we can only con-
ceive, properly speaking, of what we have seen, or felt, or
otherwise perceived. Mr. Stewart further contends, that
there is invariably connected with a lively conception
of any object a firm belief of its present existence. Dr.
Reid, on the other hand, says that perception is at-
tended with a belief of the present existence of its
'J24 CONCEPTION, MEMORY, IMAGINATION,
object ; memory with a belief of its past existence ; but
that imagination, and he includes conception under this
term, is attended with no belief at all, and was, therefore,
called by the schoolmen apprehensio simplex. Mr. Stew-
art expresses a very decided opinion, that conception and
memory are perfectly distinct and separate powers. " Con-
ception," says he, " is often confounded with other pow-
ers. When a painter makes a picture of a friend, who is
absent or dead, he is commonly said to paint from me-
mory, and the expression is sufficiently correct for common
conversation. But, in an analysis of the mind, there is
ground for a distinction. The power of conception en-
ables him to make the features of his friend an object of
thought, so as to copy the resemblance ; the power of
memory recognizes these features as a former object of
perception."* Another writer, who adopts the same
general views, referring to this passage, says, on the other
hand, " It is difficult to consider, from this very explana-
tion, that conception is a distinct and separate power, and
it appears more philosophical and simple to view it as
that modification of memory, which consists in recalling
our past sensations and ideas without a recognition of
them as having formerly existed."
Mr. Stewart thus draws the line of distinction between
conception and imagination. " The business of concep-
tion, according to the account I have given of it, is to
present us with an exact transcript of what we have felt
or perceived. But we have, moreover, a power of modify-
ing our conceptions, by combining the parts of different
ones together, so as to form new wholes of our own crea-
tion. I shall employ the word imagination to express this
power ; and, I apprehend that this is the proper sense of
the word, if imagination be the power which gives birth
to the productions of the poet and the painter. This is
not a simple faculty of the mind. It presupposes abstrac-
tion, to separate from each other, qualities and circum-
stances which have been perceived in conjunction ; and
also judgment and taste to direct us in forming the com-
* Vol. I. p. 133.
NOT ORIGINAL POWERS. 225
binations. If they are made wholly at random, they are
proofs of insanity."*
I perfectly agree with Mr. Stewart, in thinking that
imagination is not a simple faculty of the mind ; but I
feel greatly surprised to find that opinion avowed by him.
In his " Outlines" he denominates imagination one of
the ^^ principles of our constitution." He does not admit
the faculty of taste, a genius for poetry, for painting, for
music, for mathematics, into his enumeration of the
powers of the mind, because they are complex ; and he
tells us that " to analyze such compounded powers into
the more simple and general principles of our nature,
forms one of the most interesting subjects of philosophi-
cal disquisition." Why then, it may be asked, has he ad-
mitted the complex power of imagination into his cata-
logue of the powers of the mind ? Why speak of it as a
principle, u e. an intellectual element, when it is con-
fessedly not such ? What should we think of the chemist
who, after having classed water among the elements,'
should declare that it is not a simple substance ? In what
is the mistake into which Mr. Stewart appears to have
fallen inferior ?
That imagination is not a distinct power of the mind;
is surely manifest ; for if we should fail to show that con-
ception, memory, and imagination, may all be resolved
into a more general law or power of the mind, it might
still be contended that they are identical. For, first, what
is Conception, according to the statements of these philo-
sophers themselves, but imperfect Memory — memory
which recalls the object, but not the time ? And,
secondly, what is Imagination, but Memory presenting
the objects of prior perceptions in groups or combinations,
(in a manner to be afterward explained) which do not
exist in nature ? Were it said to be possible, indeed, for
imagination to exhibit not only new combinations, but
new elements of those combinations, there would be
stronger reason for representing it as an original power ot
the mind. I am not aware, however, that such is the
* Vol. II. p. 135.
29
226 THE NATURE UF
opinion of any. It manifestly is not the opinion of Mf.
Stewart. " Conception," he tells us, " presents us with
an exact transcript of what we have felt or perceived."
There is th^n nothing new here. " Imagination," he
proceeds, " combines the parts of different conceptions
together ;" so that there is, in like manner, nothing new
here but the combinations. And another writer, whose
general principles are the same, assures us that ''the
imagination can neither reproduce nor combine any sen-
sations or ideas, but such as have been formerly perceived
by the mind. No act of the will, in the exercise of this
power, can call up or combine a sensation or idea en-
tirely new. In the wildest excursions of its powers, we
shall invariably find that every separate part of that group,
is the reproduction of some former idea or sensation.
Look, for instance, at the Queen Mab of Shakspeare, —
at the Garden of Eden, as described by Milton, — the Don
Quixotte of Cervantes, — the Crazy Kate of Cowper, — the
Passions of Collins, or any other combination, formed by
the magic power of genius, and we shall find that each
part of the combination may be traced to what has been
seen, or heard, or known, as actually existing in nature or
art. Even the stuff that dreams are made of, is nothing
more than scattered views of thought, produced by sensa-
tions imperfectly remembered, while the attention and
the will are partly suspended, and the mind brought to
reflect on the most grotesque and heterogeneous associa-
tions. In fact, unless the most refined conceptions of the
most enlightened faculty were capable of being analyzed,
they would be unintelligible to others."
There is not, then, sufficient reason for thinking that
Conception, Memory, and Imagination, are three distinct
and original powers. I proceed now to show that they
may all be resolved into that more general tendency of
mind, to which Dr. Brown gives the name of Suggestion —
or into that law by which, according to divine appoint-
ment, certain states of mind are followed by certain other
states of mind.
CONCEPTION STATED. '2^7
CONCEPTION. 1^
The truth of the foregoing statement in regard to Con-
ception, must be admitted by all who receive the doctrine
presented in the preceding pages with reference to Sug-
gestion. A particular conception, is manifestly a sug-
gestion ; the power of conception, is the power of sug-
gestion. I perceive a dwarf — that is one state of mind ; I
immediately think of a giant — that is another state of
mind. Now if there be a principle in the mind, called
Suggestion — or a tendency in its phaenomena to a certain
order of sequence — by which the former of these states
introduces the latter, what need is there for a power of
Conception to originate the same state ? It is not the or-
der of divine providence to employ two powers in the pro-
duction of one effect ; but, on the contrary, by the opera-
tion of a single power, to secure many results. It will
scarcely be contended, by those who regard conception as
a power distinct from suggestion or association, that the
notion of a former object of perception, introduced by
suggestion, differs from the notion of the same object in-
troduced by conception. What difference, in fact, can
there be, unless one of the supposed powers is defec-
tive in its operation, and so originates an imperfect no-
tion ? And, if there be no difference in the notions, how
has it come to pass that philosophers, who regard sugges-
tion, or, in the phraseology of Dr. Reid, association, as an
original faculty designed to regulate the train of our
thoughts, have so generally admitted that another original
power— the power of conception — has been given to us
for the accomplishment of the same purpose ? They must
have thought that some notions of absent objects arise in
the mind, whose origin cannot be ascribed to the principle
of suggestion or association ; and they appear to me to
have thought so on two accounts.
First^ in consequence of their erroneous views of the
nature of the suggesting principle. Two ideas cannot, as
they thought, suggest one another, which have not been
previously associated in the manner formerly described.
:238 THE NATURE OF
In point of fact, however, one idea is very frequently suc-
ceeded by another, with which no union could have been
previously formed ; its rise must, therefore, they imagined,
be traced to another power.
Secondly^ through the influence of their erroneous con^
eeptions of the manner in which our ideas frequently arise
in the mind ; viz, by an act of volition. There are no-
tions, they allow, whose existence, on any particular occa-
sion, is to be ascribed to the influence of the suggesting or
associating principle ; but these notions are obviously not
directly under our control. They arise only when the law
of association, to which they owe their existence, happens
to be in operation. It seemed necessary, therefore, to
suppose the existence of a distinct power, which, putting
forth its energy under the direction of volition, might se-
cure their presence at all times when there is occasion for
them ; for that conceptions do arise, one after another, by
a mere act of will, seems not to have been doubted by the
philosophers to whom reference is now made — an opinion
which, I trust, will speedily appear to be altogether un-
founded.
MEMORY.
Nor is it much less manifest that Memory, as well as
Conception, may be resolved into Suggestion. Even
Mr. Stewart, though he classes Memory among the ori-
ginal powers, admits that the remembrance of a past
event is not a simple act of the mind — that we first form
a conception of the event, and then judge of the time to
which it is to be referred. This statement is indeed ex-
torted from him, to obviate a charge of seeming contra-
diction in his statements — a contradiction which, 1 can-
not avoid thinking, he might have suffered to remain,
without materially increasing the obscurity into which his
neglect of analysis has plunged him. The reader shall
judge for himself: — " Conception implies no idea of time
whatever,'*''^ — " Conception is always attended with a be^
* Vol. I. p. 133.
MEMORY STATED. 229
lief that its objects exist ;"* that is, it implies the idea of
present time, like perception. Again ; " We have the
power, as will not be disputed, of conceiving a past event
without any reference to «ime."t — ^" Every exertion of the
power of conception is accompanied with a belief that
its object exists before us at the present moment ;"t that
is, we have not the power of conceivmg a past event with-
out reference to lime. The real doctrine of Mr. Stewart,
however, notwithstanding these conflicting statements, is
expressed in the last quotation, viz, " that every exertion
of the power of conception is accompanied with a belief
that its object exists before us at the present moment,'*'* An
act of memory, on the other hand, includes an idea of the
past. Now as the recollection of an event, in which any
object of sense was concerned, involves an act of me-
mory, and an act of conception, it would seem to follow,
from these statements, that in recollection, we believe an
event to be past and present at the same time. It is to
remove this obvious diflficulty that Mr. Stewart tells us,
that an act of remembrance is not a simple act — that the
mind first forms a conception of the event, and then judges
from circumstance of the period of time to which it is to be
referred.! " So long as we are occupied with the concep-
tion of any object connected with the event, we believe
the present existence of the object : but this belief," he
adds, " is instantly corrected by habits of judging acquired
by experience."! Mr. Stewart himself does not seem to
anticipate that this attempt to remove the difliculty will
prove satisfactory to all his readers. I find it not easy to
conceive how it can satisfy any. It manifestly surrenders
the correctness of the former statement, " that memory
includes an idea of the past," or rather it relinquishes the
notion of its being a separate power. It is not by me-
mory, but conception, that the event is placed before the
view of the mind ; it is not by memory, but judgment, ac-
cording to his own admission, that it is referred to a former
period of time. Now since the notion of the event rises
* Vol. I. p. 142. t Ibid. p. 406.
•fe
230 THE NATURE OF
by conception, and is referred to past time by judgment,
what is the office which memory has to perform here ? I
can conceive of none.
Had Mr. Stewart permitted his latter statements to re-
model his previous ones, there would have been little rea-
son to complain of want of accuracy ; for what we call Me-
mory is not a distinct power, but Conception ; i, e. as we
have seen, suggestion, co-existing with the notion of time.
The remembrance of a past event is the notion or concep-
tion of that event, as a past event ; or, in other words, it is
the notion, combined with a feeling, that it stands in the
relation of priority to our present consciousness. The no-
tion itself is a simple suggestion, and arises through the
operation of that power; the feeling of its antecedence to
the present moment is a relative suggestion, and arises
through the influence of another power — the power of
relative suggestion, which remains to be considered.
" The remembrance, therefore, being thus a complex feel-
ing, is a proof of the existence of the two susceptibilities of
the mind to which reference has just been made ; but it is
not a proof of any third power, more than the sight of a
rose, combined with the perception of its fragrance, is a
proof that we possess some third sense or power, distinct
from those which give us the elementary sensations of
colour and odour, of which our complex sensation is
formed."* Few notions are of more difficult apprehension,
than the notion of time. The term seems to indicate not
a thing, but a relation — the relation of antecedence and
posteriority. Now as various events sustain these relations
to each other, and to other events, it is necessary to have
a general term which may include all the individual varie-
ties of the relation — as we have the general term man, to
include every individual man. This general term is time.
And memory is the simple conception of an event, co-exist-
ing, as we have seen, with the notion of time ; or with the
notion that the event stands in the relation of priority, to
ihe present moment. The conception itself may arise by
* Brown, Vol. 11. p. 387.
/
HEMORY STATED. 231
any of the laws of suggestion ; for it is, as we have seen, a
mere suggestion. The notion of time, i. e. of priority, arises
on comparing the event with our present consciousness.
The conception may arise without this comparison, in
which case it is conception or suggestion merely ; or it may
arise, and co-exist, with this comparison, in which case it
is memory.
There can be little doubt that, in the case of memory,-
as well as of conception, the notion that these concep-
tions are under our control, so that we can produce them
by an act of volition, has contributed to perpetuate the
opinion, that memory is a distinct power from suggestion
or association. Dr. Reid, in distinguishing between me-
mory and reminiscence, says, that the latter includes a will
to recollect something past, and a search for it. This is
not the case, as we have seen, with reference to ideas
which arise through the influence of association. They
come unbidden into the mind. It will be proper, there-
fore, to examine the correctness of the opinion to which
reference has been made. Let it be observed, then, that
neither Dr. Reid, nor Mr. Stewart, imagines that any idea
can be the direct result of volition. " Here," says the
former, " a difliculty occurs. It may be said, that what
we will to remember, we must conceive, as there can be
no will without a conception of the thing willed. A will
to remember a thing, therefore, seems to imply that we
remember it already, and have no occasion to search for
it."* The language of Mr. Stewart is still more decided :
"^ To call up a particular thought," says he, " supposes it
to be already in the mind." The first of these writers,
however, if not the latter, imagines that volition has an
indirect influence over our conceptions. " When we will
to remember a thing," he says, " we raust remember
something relating to it, which gives us a relative con-
ception of it ; but we may, at the same time, have no con-
ception what the thing is, but only what relation it bears
to something else."* On this statement it may be ob-
served, that doubtless the best method we can take to
■^ Vol. I. p. 495.
i232 TriE NATURE OF
revive the recollection of something v^^hich has escaped
from our minds, is to " remember," if we can, something
relating to it ; for in that case the ordinary laws of sug-
gestion are likely to introduce the idea of which we are
in quest. But the question is, how does the memory of
the relative conception, which is to draw the other after
it, arise ? " If it arises of itself to the mind, according
to the simple course of suggestion, there is not even indi-
rect volition in the parts of the spontaneous train ; and if
it does not arise of itself, but is separately willed, there is
then as direct volition, and, consequently, as much ab-
surdity, involved in this calling up of the person, the
place, and the other accompanying circumstances, as in
calling up the very conception itself, which is the object
of all this search. In either case, we must be supposed
to will to know that, of which the will to know implies
the knowledge."!
Dr. Reid appears to me to have involved himself in un-
necessary difficulty, by using the term Will, instead of De-
sire, in this connexion ; for the " will to remember a thing,"
of which he speaks, is not will, or volition, according to his
own definition of the term, but simply desire.f And the
true theory of recollection, or reminiscence, seems to be
that it is desire to recollect something forgotten, co-exist-
ing with various conceptions, bearing a relation to the de-
sire, which arise by the ordinary laws of suggestion, and
which, again, by their relation to the event which has es-
caped from our recollection, may, sooner or later, intro-
duce it into the mind. " But the co-existence of this train
of conceptions, with the unsatisfied desire," says Dr.
Brown, " though a complex state of mind, is not the exer-
cise of any new power, distinct from the elementary pow-
ers or feelings which compose it* We have only to per-
form our mental analysis, as in any other com{^lex phaeno-
mena of the mind, and the elements instantly appear. "§
There is one statement by Dr. Brown — a statement in
which I cannot altogether concur with him, but which is
* Vol. I. p. 495. t Brown, Vol. 11. pp. 375, 6.
t Vide Brown, Cause and Effect, pp. 74, 75. 6 Vol. II. p. 377.
MEMORV STATfiD. 233"
far too ingenious, and important, to be passed over unno-
ticed. It occurs in the kind of complaint he makes of the
general tendency to restrict improperly the application of
the term Memory. What is memory, but suggestion?
What is the faculty of memory, but the tendency of the
mind to suggest ideas, or objects, with v/hich it has been
previously acquainted, according to certain laws ? The
laws are different — the suggestions are different ; and yet
we are apt to regard memory as comprehending sugges-
tions of a particular order only — those which take place
according to the law of contiguity in time, and place. To
remember, is to have some object or event suggested to
the mind, by something which had been contiguous with it,
in time or place. Such is the ordinary view of this faculty.
But if memory is mere suggestion, why, inquires Dr. Brown,
in effect at least, should this one particular class of sugges-
tions appropriate the name to itself exclusively ? Why
should not a suggestion of analogy be called memory, or an
act of memory, as well as a suggestion of contiguity ? Why
should not an original tendency to suggestions of the for-
mer class,* be denominated a good memory, as well as a
similar tendency to suggestions of the latter class ? Why
should we not talk of the good memory of the poet, as well
of the historian, or chronologist ? The fact which has been
referred to, with regard to imagination ; viz. that it does
not create any new conception, or even the fragment of
such a conception — that all the component parts of its
combinations have been present to the view of the mind
before — seems to give great plausibility to these state-
ments. The substance of them cannot, indeed, as it was
formerly admitted, be denied. The creations of genius
are suggestions of analogy. The analogous objects sug-
gested, must have been previously seen by the individual,
or he must have formed some conception of them. Why
then should he not be said to remember them, when the
idea of them is introduced by the presence, or the notion
of other objects ? There does not occur to me any answer
* ride p. 227.
30
to, this question, except one, which has led Dr. Brown him-
self to acknowledge that a distinction exists between con-
ception and memory ; viz, that suggestions of analogy are
mere conceptions ; at any rate they may be such ; they
may not be combined with any notion of time ; and, there-
fore, Dr. Brown should refuse to designate them by the
term Memory, or give that name to all our conceptions.
It seems to follow from the preceding statements con-
cerning memory, that, when we talk of laying up stores of
knowledge in the mind, upon which this faculty may draw
as occasion requires, we in fact use language which, though
it may be admitted into the currency of common conver-
sation, does not bear upon it the stamp of genuine philo-
sophy. It must be regarded, indeed, like the phrase ani-
mal spirits, as the relict of a barbarous age. With the Pe-
ripatetic philosophy, and its notions of sensible species,
&c., the phraseology in question most perfectly agreed.
For if images came to the mind in perception, and rose
again to its view in the very act of memory, it was obvi-
ously necessary to have some place in which to store them,
between the primary act of perception, and the subsequent
acts of memory. Our forefathers, accordingly, converted
the mind into a kind of lumber room, in which the images
of birds, beasts, fishes, and all sorts of creeping things,
were crowded together, like the antediluvian tribes in the
ark of Noah. From this lumber-room, one after another
sprang forwards into view, as required for a moment, and
then sank back into its dark abode. Strange metamor-
phoses also were effected by the master magician, in the
interior of the chamber (which, be it observed, was the
chamber itself,) as the result of which some ideas stripped
of their heads, others of their tails, and supplied with
others in their room, were brought forth in this state by
laughter-loving imagination, like Sampson to the Philis-
tines, " to make sport."
Now what but a relict of the old Peripatetic philosophy,
which I have scarcely caricatured, is the statement that
" memory expresses some modification of that faculty which
enables us to treasure up, and preserve for future use, the
MEMORY STATED. 235
knowledge we acquire." Why, this is the very lumber-
room of the Stagyrite, and modern philosophers have
scarcely been at the trouble of whitewashing it ! When
the doctrine of perception by images was abandoned, the
indefinite and unmeaning phraseology, as I cannot but re-
gard it, to which I have now referred, should have been
abandoned also ; I mean by philosophers, in philosophical
works, and as formal statements, intended to explain the
objects on which they treat. If memory, i, e. not the
power, but the exercise of it, be a conception of some
past event, blended with a judgment with reference to the
time at which it happened (and it is no more in tlie opinion
of Mr. Stewart himself,) where is the conception when the
mind is not actually forming it ? In what does knowledge
consist, but in thoughts, conceptions, <Lc. ? And what is
a thought, but the mind thinking — a conception, but the
mind conceiving ? What are they but states of mind ?
How then can ideas, conceptions, &c. be laid up in the
mind ? How can states of mind be treasured up in itself?
It is not necessary, however, as has been observed, to alter
the current phraseology upon this subject; this is now,
perhaps, impossible. Our concern should be to attach
some definite idea to it. Let it not, then, be forgotten,
that to lay up knowledge in the mind, is to endeavour, by
observation, and reading, and conversation, to obtain ac-
curate conceptions of all the objects of thought — to exa-
mine those objects frequently — to contemplate them both
separately, and in the relations they sustain to each other,
especially the relations of contiguity of time, and place ;
that so, by the influence of the laws of suggestion, these
conceptions may be introduced into the mind, at the mo-
ment when they are needed. To suppose that they are
laid up in the mind, or reside habitually in it, is an error
similar to that which leads some to suppose that joy, or
fear, or sensation, exists in the mind, when neither of them
is felt; — or that the mind, whose states are perpetually
changing, is invariably in the same state. The power o{
suggestion is, indeed, a permanent guest; and, by its in""
236 THE NATURE OF
fluence, notions of past sensations, or of prior objects of
perception arise, according to the guiding influence of
laws which have been formerly explained.
IMAGINATION.
A few remarks will show that Imagination resolves it-
self into the general power of suggestion. The fact of the
case, admitted by all, is that many of our conceptions have
nothing which corresponds with them in nature. They are
complex ; and though their constituent parts may have
been formerly recognized by us, and indeed, always have
been so, yet the combinations themselves have never ex-
isted, and in some cases it is impossible that they ever
should exist. Now the question is. How do these complex
conceptions arise ? The separate notion of gold, and of a
mountain, may be introduced, according to the system of
those who regard memory, conception, and association, as
distinct powers, through the influence of either of them; but
which of them can originate the complex notion of a golden
mountain ? — manifestly not one. We have, therefore, it
is thought, a distinct power of mind, given us for the pur-
pose of modifying our conceptions, by combining the parts
of different ones together, so as to form new wholes of our
own creation. To conceive of a golden mountain for in-
stance, we combine, it is said, the conception of gold, and
the conception of a mountain ; and the power by which we
are enabled to do this, is called Imagination. On this
statement I observe.
First, that to suppose this combination to be the
result of design, involves the same absurdity which was
noticed with respect to reminiscence. "I cannot have
selected," says Dr. Brown, " the images of gold and a
mountain, with the intention of forming the compound of
a golden mountain ; since it is very evident, that if I willed
that particular compound, I must have had the conception
of a golden mountain, previously to my conception of a
golden mountain." " If we select images with the view of
forming a particular compound, we must alreadv have
IMAGINATION STATED. 237
formed this compound ; and to select them for no purpose
whatever, is, in truth, not to select them at all.*
Secondly^ that this complex conception may be ascribed
to the influence of the ordinary laws of suggestion ; it is,
therefore, unphilosophical to suppose the existence of a dis-
tinct power in order to account for it. We have already
seen that conceptions and feelings may co-exist, and thus
form a complex state of mind. Each part of a complex
conception may, accordingly, introduce another concep-
tion. If, therefore, the immediate antecedent to the notion
of a golden mountain be a complex feeling, one of its
parts may suggest the notion of gold, and the other the
notion of a mountain ; and thus the complex notion — a
golden mountain, is accounted for.
Thirdly^ that it is difficult to conceive what is the pre-
cise office of imagination, even according to Mr. Stewart's
own account of it. It is not, he admits, a simple power ;
i. e. it is not a power at all; for nothing is, correctly
speaking, a power of mind which is capable of being re-
solved into any thing else, any more than a material sub-
stance is an element, which admits of analysis. " It
supposes," he adds, " abstraction," (of which more will
be said hereafter) " to sepaiate from each other qualities
and circumstances, which have been perceived in conjunc-
tion ; and also judgment and taste to direct us in forming
the combinations."! Taking this statement, then, for our
guide, it is abstraction which separates the parts of former
combinations with a view to the formation of a new com-
pound ; it is judgment or taste, which brings them into
their new state of complexity : What then is the office of
imagination ? It is surely not to throw light upon mental
science, to call the combined operation of two distinct
powers of the mind, as they are considered, a third power,
and to give to that operation a specific name. It may be
observed, also, that the language to which I now refer,
necessarily supposes that we have a notion of the result of
the combination before we make it ; or there would be no
room for the exercise of judgment. An artist who mixes
•" Vol. II. p. 39/;. t Vol. I. p. 135.
238 THE NATURE Or
his colours with judgment, knows the effect of their com-
bination. Mr. Stewart tells us, that the complex concep-
tions, of which we have been speaking, are formed under
the guidance, and by the agency of judgment ; and if that
be the case, the mental artist must be aware of the nature
and effect of the combination which he makes ; or he
could only exercise judgment after it was made, not in ac-
tually forming it ; i. e, he must have had " the conception
of a golden mountain previously to the conception of a
golden mountain."
There are cases, however, in which new compounds, or
groups, are formed, when the mind earnestly desired a new
combination ; is there not, then, the exercise of a distinct
and an original faculty here, going in quest of illustrations,
so to speak, and selecting from the mass, thus brought before
the view of the mind, those which are judged to be best
adapted to our purpose ? Let us examine this matter a little.
"We sit down," let it be imagined, "to compose upon a
certain subject. We must necessarily have some general
notion of that subject, and a strong desire to elucidate it.
In these circumstances, if our minds possess vigour and fer-
tility, conceptions and illustrations will flow in with asto-
nishing rapidity." The point then to be considered is,
" what is their origin V Are they brought into the mind by
the powerful effort of some distinct faculty, given to us for
that express purpose, — or are they introduced by the influ-
ence of the ordinary laws of suggestion ? To suppose they
arise by a mental effort, by direct volition, is to suppose,
according to preceding statements, that they are in the
mind, before they are brought into it. They arise then by
suggestion ; the strong desire of elucidating the subject
introduces them ; so that in fact there is no room for the
operation of a distinct power here.
But different conceptions and images, it will be said,
perhaps, arise to the view of the mind, in the circumstances
supposed ; we must, consequently, have a power to select
some and to reject others ; and, to the performance of this
work, the general faculty of suggestion is manifestly ina-
dequate. I answer that it is of immense importance to
IMAaiNATION.
lorni clear conceptions of what it is that actually takes
place in the mind, in the circumstances referred to ; for the
terms, employed by the objector, are too general and inde-
finite. What then is its amount ? I reply, that some of
the conceptions and images remain in the mind, and are,
accordingly, transferred to the paper ; while others instantly
vanish away. But is this the result of a distinct and sepa-
rate power ? With Dr. Brown I imagine not. The cir-
cumstance may be thus explained: — among the various
images and conceptions which have been introduced, as
we have seen, by the principle of suggestion, the mind,
possessing a faculty which remains to be considered — the
faculty of perceiving relations — discovers which of them
bear the relation of congruity to its leading conception,
or to the great point which it wishes to illustrate or embel-
lish ; " and these images instantly becoming more lively,
and therefore more permanent, the others gradually disap-
pear, and leave those beautiful groups which he seems to
have brought together by an effort of volition, merely be-
cause the simple laws of suggestion, that have operated
without any control on his part, have brought into his mind
a multitude of conceptions, of which he is capable of
feeling the relation of fitness or unfitness to his general
plan. What is suitable remains, — not because he wills it
to remain, but because it is rendered more vivid by his ap-
proval and intent admiratioo. What is unsuitable disap-
pears, — not because he wills it to disappear, — for his will
would in this case serve only to retain it longer ; but simply
because it has not attracted his admiration and attention,
and, therefore, fades like every other faint conception.
Nature is then to him what she has been in every age, the
only true and everlasting muse — the inspirer — to whom we
are indebted as much for every thing which is magnificent
in human art, as for those glorious models of excellence
which, in the living and inanimate scene of existing things,
she has presented to the admiration of the genius which
she inspires.''*
* Vol. 11. p. 409.
1
Hi) HABIT.
HABIT.
Habit constitutes the last of those supposed powers, the
phaenomena of which may be traced to the influence of
the general faculty of suggestion. Mr. Stewart does not
admit habit into his catalogue of the original powers of
the mind. He resolves the power of habit into the associ-
ation of ideas. Dr. Reid, on the other hand, resolves the
association of ideas into habit. His language is as fol-
lows : " That trains of thinking, which, by frequent repe-
tition, have become familiar, should spontaneously offer
themselves to our fancy, seems to require no other original
faculty but the power of habit." And, referring to a good
extemporaneous speaker, he adds, " When a man speaks
well and methodically upon a subject without study, and
with perfect ease, I believe we may take it for granted that
his thoughts run in a beaten track. There is a mould in
his mind, which has been formed by much practice, or by
study, for this very subject, or for some other so similar
and analogous, that his discourse falls into this mould with
ease, and takes its form from it."*
Now if this statement had been made to a mixed, and
not very philosophical assembly, for the purpose of secu-
ring popular effect, it might have passed without animad-
version. But to see it issuing from the pen of a writer, who
appears at times so fully sensible of the injury which the
philosophy of mind has sustained by the introduction of
material analogies — and to find it in a work, too, which
was intended for men of thought and science, — and given,
moreover, as a grave explanation of a well-known fact, and
not merely figurative statement of the fact, — may well be
regarded as passing strange ! A beaten track — and a
mould in the mind ! What can the words mean ?
In defining the term Habit, Mr. Stewart says, that the
word, in the sense in which it is commonly employed,
" expresses that facility which the mind acquires in all its
exertions, both animal {query, what is an animal exertion
* Vol. n. p, 07.
HABIT.
of mind ?) and intellectual, in consequence of practice.
We apply it to the dexterity of the workman ; to the ex-
temporary fluency of the orator ; to the rapidity of the
arithmetical accountant. That this facility is the effect of
practice, we know from experience to be a fact ; but it does
not seem to be an ultimate fact, nor incapable of analysis."
" In the essay on Attention, I showed that the effects of
practice are produced partly on the body, and partly on the
mind. The muscles which we employ in mechanical ope-
rations become stronger and more obedient to the will.
This is a fact of which it is probable that philosophy will
never be able to give any explanation."
" But even in mechanical operations, the effects of prac-
tice are produced partly on the mind ; and, as far as this
is the case, they are resolvable into what philosophers call
the association of ideas ; or into that general fact, which
Dr. Reid himself has stated, 'that trains of thinking, which,
by frequent repetition, have become familiar, spontane-
ously offer themselves to the mind.' In the case of habits
which are purely intellectual, the effects of practice resolve
themselves completely into this principle : and it appears
to me more precise, and more satisfactory, to state the prin-
ciple itself, as a law of our constitution, than to slur it over
under the concise appellation of habit, which we apply in
common to mind and to body."*
The preceding account of habit appears to me to be
rather a description of the consequences of habit, than a
definition of the thing itself. Habit, strictly speaking, is
the regular and frequent performance of any particular
mental or bodily action. When we say of any individual
that he is in the habit of taking opium, we mean that the
act of taking it is frequently repeated, and, perhaps, also at
certain stated intervals. The term, in short, denotes that
which is customary. Habits, however, may be most ad-
vantageously contemplated in their immediate results;
and the direct results of an habitual action are — an es-
pecial tendency to that action, and superior facility and
excellence in its performance.
* Vol. T. pp. 284, 5.
31
242 HABIT.
First, the frequent performance of certain actions, pro^
duces an especial tendency to them — and the frequent re-
currence of certain states of mind, increases the probabili-
ty of their return. This results, as Dr. Brown thinks, in
both cases, from the circumstance that innumerable rela-
tions of co-existence are thus formed between these actions,
and states of mind, and other objects and events — so that
they are of necessity more frequently suggested to the
mind. In the case of a bodily action, performed at vari-
ous seasons, and under numerous and different circum-
stancesy the occurrence of any of those seasons,'or circum-
stances, will suggest the action ; the conception of the
action will awaken the desire to perform, (by suggestion,
Dr. Brown thinks — the conception, and the desire, having
frequently co-existed before ; there does not appear to me,
however, any necessity to call in the aid of suggestion
here,) and the performance of the action follows as a mat-
ter of course. In the same way, when a certain mental
state has frequently existed, many perceptions and events
must have co-existed with it ; it will, accordingly, be re-
called by the recurrence of any of them. Emotions may, in
this manner, in the opinion of Dr. Brown, be renewed or
suggested, by the occurrence of circumstances which have
co-existed with them ; and the more frequently they have
been experienced, the more numerous of course will be
these co-existing circumstances; and the consequent
greater probability of the frequent revival of the emo-
tion. In the case of a drunkard, for instance, the desire of
drinking has, perhaps, co-existed with a particular hour
of the day — with the perception of certain individuals, or
certain objects. When that hour, therefore, arrives, or any
of these perceptions occur, the desire, under the influence
of the ordinary laws of suggestion, will immediately fol-
low them.
Secondly, the frequent performance of certain actions
gives increased facility in performing them. It will be
sufficient to refer, in illustration of this statement, to the
case of the rope-dancer. How is this to be accounted
for ? " The muscles," says Mr. Stewart, " which we
employ in mechanical operations, become stronger, and
HABIT. • -^"^1,
more obedient to the wilV " This is a fact," he adds,
" of which it is probable that philosophy will never be
able to give any explanation." This might be asserted
with great truth, if the fact were indeed as Mr. Stewart
states it to be. To say that the muscles become moi-e
obedient to the will, is, in effect, to say, that the same
cause produces different effects ; which is opposed by all
the principles of sound philosophy. On this point, tke
statements of Dr. Brown appear to me far more satisfac-
tory. Previously to the performance of any action to
which we have not become habituated, we know neither
the particular muscles which must be employed to effect
it, nor the particular degree of contraction of those
muscles which may be necessary ; nor, I may add, the
particular state of mind, or volition, that is needed, (for
all bodily motions which are not the result of compulsion
must be preceded by volition, or there would be an effect
Avithout a cause) to produce the contraction. Through
the influence, however, of a permanent desire to perform
the action easily, and gracefully, we make repeated ef-
forts, and by this means we gradually discover what
muscle must be contracted — the degree of exertion which
is necessary — or rather, perhaps, what is the particular
state of mind which is followed by the desired result.
The motion is frequently performed through the influence
of a permanent will, that is, a desire to attain perfection ;
thus, as the volition and the motion frequently occur in
the relation of contiguity, the former will suggest the
latter. "The two arise together, afterward," says Dr.
Brown, " with little risk of the interference of any awk-
ward incongruous volition, which might disturb them, and
destroy the beauty of the graceful movements, that seem
now scarcely to require any effort in the performer, but to
be to him what the muscular motions necessary for simple
walking or running are to us — motions that, easy as they
now seem to us all, were once learned by us as slowly and
with as many painful failures, as the more difficult species
of motions, which constitute their wonderful art, were learn-
ed in raaturer life, by the rope-dancer, and the juggler.*
* Vol. II. pp. 422, 3.
^244 ' CONCEPTIONS OF RELATION.
Class II.
Of the Intellectual States of Mind ; viz. Conceptions of
Relation,
We cannot long observe two or more objects together,
without becoming sensible of certain relations which they
mutually sustain : the states of mind which constitute the
notion, or conception, of these relations, are what Dr.
Brown calls Relative Suggestions ; — the power, by which
we are rendered capable of experiencing them, is Relative
Suggestion. " I perceive, for example, a horse and a
sheep at the same moment. The perception of the two
is followed by that different state of mind, which consti-
tutes the feeling of their agreement in certain respects, or
of their disagreement in certain other respects." The
radical difference which exists between Conceptions of
Relation, and Simple Conceptions, is taken for granted
in our classification, and is clearly displayed by the dif-
ferent manner in which they arise ; for the class of affec-
tions we now proceed to consider, can only grow out of
the consideration of two or more objects, or affections of
mind ; while the former class requires only one. The
perception of a horse, for instance, may suggest, in
various ways, — by some resembling blemish for example,
— the notion of a cow ; here the notion grows out of the
contemplation of one object. But that conception of
resemblance which is embodied in the word quadruped,
can only arise on the simultaneous perception, or concep-
tion, of the horse and the cow, or of other animals of the
same class.
There is more danger, however, of identifying concep-
tions of relation with our sensitive affections, i. e, with
perceptions. " Relation, proportion, and resemblance,"
says one, " are, in the first instance, distinct original ob-
jects of perception ; we cannot examine matter, by any
of our senses, without perceiving them. At the very
same instant that perception makes us acquainted with
the existence of external objects, it also makes us ac-
RELATIONS NOT PERCEIVED. !245
quainted with some of their more obvious relations.
When equal objects are perceived, we see that they agree ;
when unequal, we see that they differ ; and the mind never
loses sight of this comparison of objects, which is sug-
gested by its very first perceptions. A single object would
leave an insulated, independent image on the mind ; but
the moment that another is presented, a comparison is in-
stituted, and we are compelled to mark their agreement
or their difference. This is the first link in reasoning
w hen the objects are not presented simultaneously ; when
they appear together, perception enables us to recognize
their apparent relation to each other."*
This passage is, in more respects than one, open to
criticism. What is meant, for instance, by a comparison
of objects which is suggested by perception ? Perception
affords an opportunity for comparison, but it is not in har-
mony with the established use of the term to say, it sug-
gests it. The language would seem to imply, that the re-
lations of equality, &c. are not directly perceived ; but
that they are suggested to the mind in the sense in which
Dr. Brown uses the term. Such, however, cannot be its
meaning ; since it would be in direct hostility to the ob-
ject the writer had in view in the whole paragraph, viz, to
show that we see the relations of objects in the same way
that we see the objects themselves. I must, however,
forbear all further remarks. My object in quoting the
passage, was merely to guard the reader against what I,
at least, deem a mistake upon the subject.
The relations of objects are not, I apprehend, perceiret?;
our conceptions of them owe their existence to a power
of the mind distinct from perception, though the exercise
of that power may invariably accompany the simultaneous
perception of two or more objects. The writer to whom I
have just referred, has overlooked this. He takes it for
granted that, because we are made acquainted with the
relations of objects, at the same time that we are made
acquainted with the objects themselves^ we become ac-
* Edinburgh Encylcpaedia — article Logic, p. 124.
246 NOTIONS OF RELATION.
quainted with both by perception. This is not the case I
imagine,
First, because brutes have no knowledge of the relations
of objects ; at any rate, their conceptions of relations, if
even they have any, are so faint and imperfect, as to prove
that the knowledge of relations is not introduced into the
mind by perception. For in perception, or sensation,
they are equal to man. Their senses of smell, and of
sight, are not inferior to ours. If, then, brutes see things
as distinctly as we do, and if relations are objects of vision,
why have they not as accurate a knowledge of relations,
as we possess ?
Secondly, the term relation, in its application to ob-
jects, does not, at any rate, always denote any thing that
essentially belongs to those objects ; and, therefore, rela-
tions cannot be perceived. This statement may be illus-
trated by a reference to the relation of size. We perceive
two men ; we instantly say of one, he is tall ; of the other, he
is short. We see that it is so, says an objector. I answer
no ; because tallness is not an object of sight ; it is not an
absolute quality — it is not something actually existing in
him like the colour of his skin. All that is to hQ perceived
in this individual, would be perceived, if no man besides
himself were in existence ; but in that case he would ap-
pear to us neither tall, nor short. The following state-
ment of Dr. Brown deserves the most attentive considera-
tion : — " The tallness of a tree, the lowness of a shrub or
weed, as these relative terms are used by us in opposition,
do not express any real quality of the tree, or shrub, or
weed, but only the fact that our mind has considered them
together ; all which they express, is the mere comparison
that is in us, not any quality in the external objects ; and
yet we can scarcely bring ourselves to think, but that, inde-
pendently of this comparison, there is some quahty in
the tree which corresponds with our notion of tallness, and
some opposite quality in the shrub or weed, which corres-
ponds with our notion of shortness, or lowliness ; so that
the tree would deserve the name of tall, though it were the
only object in existence ; and the shrub, or weed, in like
RELATIONS NOT PERCEIVED. 247
manner, the epithet of lowly, though it alone existed, with-
out a single object with which it could be compared.
These instances, as I have said, are simple, but they will
not be the less useful in preparing your minds for consider-
ing the more important natures of relation in general, that
imply, indeed, always some actual qualities in the objects
themselves, the perception of which leads us afterward to
consider them as related, but no actual quality in either of
the objects that primarily and directly corresponds with
the notion of the relation itself, as there are qualities of
objects that correspond directly with our sensations of
warmth or colour, or any other of the sensations excited
immediately by external things. The relation is, in every
sense of the word, mental, not merely as being a feeling of
the mind, for our knowledge of the qualities of external
things is, in this sense, equally mental ; but, as having
its cause and origin directly in the very nature of the mind
itself, which cannot regard a number of objects, without
forming some comparison, and investing them consequently
with a number of relations."*
Thirdly^ we recognize relations in those objects of
thought which never can become objects of perception.
Hope and expectation, we at once say, resemble each
other ; joy and grief are opposite to each other. Our con-
ceptions of relations are not then to be traced to our sen-
sitive powers ; i. e. they are not perceptions. They pre-
suppose another and a very different power. " When
equal objects are presented," to refer again to the state-
ments of the Encyclopaedia, we do not " see that they
agree," but are apprized of that fact by the faculty which
recognizes relations, and which our Maker has added to
the powers of external perception, though it is not neces-
sarily connected with them.
The relation which this general faculty recognizes in
external objects, or internal affections, are innumerable ;
but they admit of a very easy classification according as
they involve, or do not involve, the notion of time. The
latter are called by Dr. Brown, relations of co-existence ;
* Vol. I. pp. 99, 100. Vide also Vol. II. pp. 181, 2, 193, 439, 471.
248 RELATIONS OF CO-EXISTENCE.
the former, relations of succession. Whatever be thought
of this phraseology, there is a broad line of distinction be-
tween these two classes of relations. I think of the three
angles of a triangle, and of two right angles, and immedi-
ately recognize the relation of equality as subsisting be-
tween them, — a relation which involves no notion of time.
I think again of the ascent of the sun above the horizon,
and of the arrival of full and perfect day, and recognize
the relation of priority and subsequence, — the one event is
the cause, the other is the effect.
Species I.
Relations of Co-existence.
These relations are recognized in objects which really
co-exist without us, or in affections of the mind which co-
exist in the manner formerly explained,* or which are con-
sidered by us as if they constituted parts of what are in
reality simple states of mind. In this species are included
Relations of Position, Resemblance or Difference, Propor-
tion, Degree, and Comprehension. To illustrate the whole
of them is impossible ; it must suffice to notice one or two.
On contemplating a machine, and its system of wheels and
pulleys, we recognize the relation of the parts of one com-
plex object, to the whole. We not only see all that is to
be seen, but we form a conception of a relation — the rela-
tion of comprehension — which is not, as we have seen, an
object of perception, and the notion of which would never
arise, had we not the power of relative suggestion, or the
faculty of recognizing relations. On contemplating two
such machines, we, in like manner, not only see all that is
to be seen, but we recognize their resemblance to each
other, which, not being a quality of either, is not an object
of perception. I have particularly referred to these rela-
tions — the relations of resemblance, and of comprehen-
sion — on account of their especial importance, which it
will be necessary to illustrate at some length.
Vide p. 30—36.
RESEMBLANCE. 249
To begin with Resemblance, I observe that the faculty
which recognizes this relation, is not merely, as it must be
obvious to all, the foundation of the imitative arts, but the
source of classification, and, consequently, of general
terms ; without which language, consisting only of par-
ticular terms, and each tree, and house, and object of
every description, requiring a proper name, would be a
burden under which the mightiest mind must sink.
On perceiving various objects simultaneously, the power
of relative suggestion enables us to recognize the various
points in which they resemble each other ; and hence to
classify them, or arrange them in different divisions, — for
classification is grounded on resemblance, those objects
being placed in the same division, which bear this relation
to one another. Were we possessed of the power of per-
ception merely, the resemblances, of which we speak,
would no more strike us than the brutes around us. En-
dowed, however, as we are, with the faculty of recogni-
zing relations, we become immediately aware that some
agree, in contradistinction from others, in possessing a
principle of vitality. Of these, some have reason, others
not. Of the irrational tribes, some are covered with hair,
others with scales, others again with feathers ; many have
four legs, several only two. And thus what would other-
wise have been an indiscriminate mass of beings, sepa-
rates, in our mental vision, into distinct classes ; while, to
give utterance to those notions of resemblance which
arose in our minds on the perception of these objects, and
which were the spring and the guide of this mental classi-
fication, or rather perhaps which constitute it, we invent
general terms, which are words designed to express the
common resemblance recognized by us in objects which we
thus class together. " That in looking at a horse, an ox,
or a sheep, we should be struck with a feeling of their re-
semblance, in certain respects, — that to those respects in
which they are felt to resemble each other, we should give
a name, as we give a name to each of them individually,
comprehending under the general name such objects only
as excite, when compared together with others, the feel-
250 GENERAL TERMS
ing of this particular relation, — all this has surely nothing
very mysterious about it. It would, indeed, be more
mysterious if, perceiving the resemblances of objects, that
are constantly around us, we did not avail ourselves of
language, as a mode of communicating to others our feel-
ings of the resemblance, as we avail ourselves of it in the
particular denomination of the individual, to inform
others of that particular object, of which we speak ; and
to express the common resemblance which we feel by any
word, is to have invented already a general term signifi-
cant of the felt relation."*
No process could be more simple and beautiful, than
the one which is thus described by Dr. Brown. That
great Being who formed the mind, has imparted to it, not
merely the power of perceiving the individual objects by
which we are surrounded, but also of recognizing the re-
semblances which exist among them. This notion of
their resemblance, constitutes what we call a general idea
— which idea, or notion, is embodied in a general term,
as a particular notion, or our notion of an individual, is
expressed by a particular term or a proper name. " In
the first place," says Dr. Brown, " there is the perception
of two or more objects ; in the second place, the feeling
or notion of their resemblance, immediately subsequent
to the perception ; and, lastly, the expression of this com-
mon relative feeling by a name, which is used afterward
as a general denomination, for all those objects, the per-
ception of which is followed by the same common feeling'''^
{or notion) " of resemblance.'''']
I have dwelt the longer upon this subject because the
statements which have been given, appear to me to re-
move entirely the veil of darkness which, till the time of
Dr. Brown, hung over the points in controversy between
the Nominalists and the Realists. During the reign of the
Peripatetic philosophy, when ideas were regarded, as we
have seen, not merely as something distinct from the mind,
but as images of external objects, it could not fail to form
* Brown, Vol. U. pp. 482, 3.
•" P, 4Q5. Vide also Wel^li'? Memoir of Dr. Brown, v. 271—27.1.
AND IDEAS. ^l
a perplexing question, " What are general ideas ?" The
species, or images of the Peripatetics, resembled, of course,
the objects from which they came. But all objects of per-
ception are particular objects ; there is no individual being
answering, for instance, to our general notion of a quadru-
ped. It followed, then, on their principles, as there could
be no perception but by images — either that we have ima-
ges, which are images in fact of nothing, — or that we have
no general ideas, corresponding to general terms; and
that words are the only objects of our thoughts in all our
general speculations. This was the controversy that ex-
isted between the Nominalists and the Realists — a contro-
versy, which, even in the strong language of John of Sa-
lisbury, even at that early period of which alone he could
speak, had already employed fruitlessly more time and
thought than " the whole race of the Caesars had found ne-
cessary for acquiring and exercising the sovereignty of the
world."
Since the decline of the Peripatetic philosophy, the
strict and proper realism of the ancient school has appeared
in too grotesque a garb, to allow of its making its appear-
ance even in the company of philosophers. Most of our
modern writers have been Nominalists — and, some of them,
Nominalists in the strictest sense of the word. Hobbes
expressly states, not merely " that words are essential to
general reasonings, and that without them all our conclu-
sions would be particular, but that it is words which give
to our conclusions all their generality." And Mr. Stew-
art states, that " There are only two ways in which we can
possibly speculate about classes of objects ; the one, by
means of a word or generic term ; the other, by means of
one particular individual of the class, which we consider as
the representative of the rest ; and that these two methods
of carrying on our general speculations, are at bottom so
much the same, as to authorize us to lay it down as a prin-
ciple, that, without the use of signs, all our thoughts must
have related to individuals. When we reason, therefore,
concerning classes or genera, the objects of our attention
are merely signs ; or if, in any instance, the generic \yord
252 NOMINALISM OPPOSED.
should recall some individual, this circumstance is to be re-
garded only as the consequence of an accidental associa-
tion, which has rather a tendency to disturb, than to assist
us in our reasonings."*
With all my respect for Mr. Stewart, I am constrained
to join Dr. Brown in thinking, that this rigid nominalism —
the doctrine, that is, which affirms that we have only per-
ceptions^ (which are necessarily individual or particular —
there being no classes of objects in nature) and general
terms, to which no corresponding notion is to be, or can
be attached — is not more rational than the realism of the
ancient schools. " The very statement of the opinion it-
self, is almost a sufficient confutation ;" for,
First, it supposes the [invention of a word without
necessity; for a word which was not designed to embody
a notion that had arisen in the mind, was manifestly unne-
cessary and useless at its origin, and must remain so to the
present day. Now to suppose the invention or adoption
of a word without necessity— a word which was not in-
tended to express, and which does not express, what we
perceive, or think, or feel, — is to suppose what I can re-
gard as nothing less than a self-evident absurdity. Such a
word would be an effect without a cause. Had it not been
for the miserable controversy to which I have referred, no
one, I apprehend, would have doubted that thought must,
in all cases, precede language — that ideas, or notions, must
exist before words. This is felt by every one, in reference
to words which are appropriated to individuals, that is,
proper names. We never invent and employ a proper
name before the notion of the individual, who is to
bear it, has arisen in the mind. The very thought of act-
ing in this manner involves absurdity. Why then should
the invention of a general term, previous to the rise of a
general notion, and to which no general notion is ever to
be attached, be regarded as less absurd ? It is in vain to
attempt to reply to this reasoning by saying, that there are
many who contend they have no general notions ; for it
may be answered, First, that general terms were in use be-
' Vol.L pp. 190-1.
NOMINALISM OPPOSED. 253
fore their day, and may have been the invention — if they
proceeded from man — of those who had general notions ;
and, Secondly, that though the individuals referred to have
no general notions in their system, they have them, like all
other men, in their minds ; for, as a
Second objection against their doctrine, I observe, with
Dr. Brown, " that their extension of general terms to some
objects only, not to all objects, implies some reason for this
limitation, — some feeling of the general agreement of the
objects included in the class, to distinguish them from the
objects not included in it, which is itself that very general
notion professedly denied." We have, it is admitted, ge-
neral terms ; now, if these terms have no meaning, where
can be the impropriety of arranging, in the same class, and
designating by the same name, objects the most dissimilar
in their nature ? What can there have been to prevent
such a classification ? Why has it not, in point of fact,
been made ? On what principle has all classification actu-
ally proceeded ? How can a Nominalist defend one mode,
and repudiate another ? It cannot be because he recog-
nizes resemblances in some objects, and not in others; be-
cause, if he has a notion of resemblance, he has a gene-
ral notion — a notion, that is, of a mere relation — of some-
thing, in other words, that does not, it may be, exist in the
objects themselves, like their colour, which would appear
precisely as it does to us at present, even if all objects but
the particular object one contemplated, were annihilated ;
but which is immediately subsequent to the perception, or
conception, of two or more objects, like the galvanic effect
upon the tongue, produced by placing it between zinc and
silver. I mean that, consistently with his system, it cannot
be thus ; though in point of fact it cannot possibly be other-
wise. For what do the Nominalists mean by the classes,
and kinds of objects, of which they speak, and to which
they confine the application of the general term? The
very phraseology necessarily supposes the previous recog-
nition of resembling qualities in the respective objects of
each class ; and this recognition — this notion of a common
relation, is the general idea the existence of which they
254 NOMINALISM OPPOSED.
deny. What does Mr. Stewart mean by the "common
properties" of a class — the " circumstances in which the
subject of our reasoning resembles all other individuals of
the same genus," — "the particular quality or qualities, in
which the individuals resemble other individuals of the
same class ; and in consequence of which a generic name
is applied to it ?" This language seems to me necessarily
to imply all for which Dr. Brown contends in the following
passage, though it altogether subverts the system of Nomi-
nalism. " We perceive two objects : this is one state of
the mind. We are struck with the feeling of their resem-
blance in certain respects ; this is a second state of the
mind. We then, in the third stage, give a name to these
circumstances of felt resemblance, a name which is, of
course, applied afterward only where this relation of simi-
larity is felt. It is unquestionably not the name which pro-
duces the feeling of resemblance, but the feeling of resem-
blance which leads to the invention, or application of the
name ; for it would be equally just and philosophic to say,
that it is the name of the individual, John, or William,
which gives existence to the individual, John or William,
and that he was nobody or nothing, till the name, which
made him something, was given, — as to say, that the name
man, which includes both John and William, is that which
constitutes our relative notion of resemblance of John and
William, expressed by their common appellation ; and
that, but for the name, we could not have conceived them
to have any common or similar properties, — that is to say,
could not have had any general relative notion, or general
idea, as it has been wrongly called, of human nature, of the
respects in which John, William, and all other individual
men agree."*
The remark of Dr. Brown is of great importance, that,
when we speak of our invention of a general term, the
phraseology exclusively applies to us, in the present ma-
ture state of our language. If language be of human
origin, there is little doubt that Dr. Smith has correctly
'^ Vcl. TI. pp. 506, 7,
I
.0,'
THE NATURE OP GENEBAL NOTIONS. 255
described the manner in which general terms came into
actual use. The first words must have been, in that case,
proper names. These names were afterward extended
to similar objects ; the feeling of resemblance going be-
fore the extension, and guiding it — or why did not the sa-
vage give the name " cave" (the word by which he had
designated the first place of that kind in which he found
shelter) to the first tree he afterward met with? And
though there is, in my judgment, sufllicient reason to think
that language was not of human origin, many words are
unquestionably so ; and, in the invention and application
of every new general term, we act on the very principles
by which we have supposed the savage to be governed.
" The general term is not the cause of the generalization ;
it is not at all essential to it ; it is only the record of a
generalization previously made." It is an " abridgement
of language" rendering us capable of acquiring and com-
municating information, with a facility and a speed incom-
parably greater than could have been the case if language
had consisted of proper names alone.
Before quitting this part of the subject, it will be neces-
sary to put the reader on his guard against supposing that
a general notion is a kind of picture of an individual ob-
ject of the class, comprising those qualities, and those qua-
lities only, which belong to the whole class. Mr. Locke
seems to have fallen into this mistake. " Does it not," says
he, " require some pains and skill, to form the general idea
of a triangle — for it must be neither oblong, nor rectangu-
lar, neither equilateral, equicrural, nor scalene, but all,
and none of them, at once." We answer, the thing is
impossible. A triangle must have individual properties ;
a general notion then of a triangle is a contradiction in
terms. But we may have a notion of the particulars in
which triangles resemble one another. Similar remarks
may be made with reference to the supposed general no-
tion of a man. " The general idea of a man,'' says Dr.
Brown, " who is neither dark nor fair, tall nor short, fat
nor thin, nor of any degree intermediate between these ex-
tremes, and yet is, at the same time, dark and fair, tall and
256 JUDGING, REASONING,
short, fat and thin, is that of which we may very safely
deny the existence : for a man must be particular, and
must therefore have particular qualities, and certainly can-
not have qualities that are inconsistent. But a dark and
a fair man, a tall and a short man, a fat and a thin man, all
agree in certain respects, or, in other words, excite in us a
certain relative feeling, or notion of general resemblance ;
since, without a feeling of this kind, we never should have
thought of classing them together under one general term.
We have not a general idea of a man, but we are impress-
ed with a certain common relation of similarity of all the
individuals, whom, on that account, and on that account
alone, we rank together under the common appellation of
Application of the foregoing Principles to the Phcenomena
of Judging^ Reasoning, ^c, ^c.
These words, together with Abstraction, have been usu-
ally regarded as denoting distinct and original powers of
the mind. I shall first give a statement of the sentiments
of preceding philosophers, and then exhibit the light in
which these supposed faculties are presented by the doc-
trines contained in the foregoing pages. Mr. Stewart, at
the commencement of his second volume, after animad-
verting upon the vagueness with which the words Reason,
Reasoning, Understanding, Intellect, Judgment, &c. have
been used by philosophers, proceeds to fix the precise sig-
nification of each term. The word Reason was, he thinks,
first used " to comprehend the principles, whatever they
are, by which man is distinguished from the brutes." " it
denotes," he says, at present, " that power by which we
distinguish truth from falsehood, and combine means for
the attainment of our end." He distinguishes between
Reason, and Reasoning — the latter expressing only, as he
='^ Vol. II. pp. 516, 17,
MR. STEWART'S ACCOUNT OF. 257
conceives, "one of the various functions and operations of
Reason." The term Judgment, Mr. Stewart thinks, is
nearly synonymous with Understanding; the phrases 'a
sound understanding,' and ' a sound judgment,' being equi-
valent, unless, indeed, the former implies a greater degree
of positive ability than the latter. He says, however, that
the meaning attached to the word Judgment, by logical
writers, is very different. By them it is used to denote a sim-
ple undefinable act of the mind ; or the power by which we
are enabled to pronounce concerning the truth or falsity of
any proposition, or the probability or improbability of any
event. Dr. Reid considers judgment as an act of the mind^
by which one thing is affirmed or denied of another. He
states that the definition must ho. restricted to mental
affirmation or denial. That restriction, howpv^r, appears
in the definition itself (an act of the mind,) though it has
been overlooked both by Dr. Reid, and Mr. Stewart ; for
the expression of our judgments to others, is not an act of
the mind, but of the organs of speech. The faculty of
Judgment then, and the power of Reason, appear in the
systems of these distinguished writers, to be identical ;
while Reasoning is a developement or exertion of that
power.
To the general statements of Mr. Stewart much praise
is due. They partake, however, too much perhaps, of the
charaater of mere verbal criticism ; and they appear to
fail in exhibiting what takes place in the mind, when we
are said to judge or reason. For since words, descriptive
of mental states, or affections, or operations, can at most
only express the opinions of men concerning their nature,
we should, I apprehend, direct our attention more exclu-
sively to the affections themselves, than to the symbols by
which we attempt to apprize others of their existence, and
nature.
The strain of Mr. Stewart's remarks, is doubtless di-
rected by his opinion, that, as judgment, or reason, is a
distinct faculty of the mind, it is as impossible to ex^
plain what takes place when we are said to form a judg-
ment, as to experience a sensation* And if it cannot be
3.3
258 THE NATURE OF
proved that judgment may be resolved into a more general
faculty of mind, Mr. Stewart is unquestionably right. We
cannot explain what takes place in the mind, when the
odour of the rose acts upon the organ, — or when we feel
that two is to four, as four is to eight, because the sensa-
tion, and the conception of equality, are simple feelings, or
states of mind ; and to explain any mental phaenomenon
is to resolve it into its elements, or constituent parts. We
cannot, for this reason, explain the emotion of love ; but
we can explain the feeling of jealousy ; i. e. we can point
out the simple emotions which blend together, and consti-
tute, by their union, this dreadful and destructive passion.
Is there, then, any more general faculty into which the
powers of judging, rea soning, &c. may be resolved ? To
this question, it is replied, that, if the truth of the preceding
statements be admitted, the general power of recognizing
resemblances, or relations, will account for all the phaeno-
mena of reason, judgment, &c. If there be in the human
mind the faculty of perceiving relations, why should we
conceive of another power ta distinguish truth from false-
hood — to decide on the probability or improbability, of
any event — to combine means for the attainment of ends ?
What is truth, in this connexion, but the conformity of
words to things, i, e. a relation ? What is the probability
of any event, but its accordance, or congruity, with the
various circumstances of time, place, &c. in which it is
said to have happened, i. e. a relation ? What is the
adaptation of means to ends, but a relation? And, if
such be the case, surely the single power of recognizing
relations, includes both reason and judgment, if there be
conceived to be any difference between them; — as the
principle of attraction accounts both for the resistance
which a body offers to our attempts to stop its descent to
the earth, and to raise it after it has fallen.
From the great importance of this subject, however, we
must devote a little more attention to it. Let us take then
the following illustration : — This picture resembles the ori-
ginal. The question is, " What takes place in the mind
of^ an iadividual who asserts this V* It would be generally
JUDGING DESCRIBEU. '2^0
said, I presume, that the picture, and the original, are
first compared with each other — the mind then judges
that the former resembles the latter — and finally gives
expression to that judgment in the words to which refer-
ence has been made. Now, I would ask, what is this
comparison, but the simultaneous, or the immediately suc-
cessive perception of the picture and the original ? and
what is the judgment which is said to be subsequent to the
comparison, but the recognition of a relation — the rela-
tion of resemblance, between the two objects of percep-
tion — a recognition which requires a power distinct from
perception — the power to which Dr. Brown has given
the name of Relative Suggestion? No other power is
necessary.
An act of judgment, then, as it is called, when the
words describe a mental operation, is nothing more than
the recognition, or feeling, of some relation between two
or more objects, which either present themselves to the
senses, or are objects of conception. I judge that A is ac-
tually higher than B, though at first sight it might appear
to be lower ; i. e. I recognize the relation of position which
they bear to each other. I judge that this picture resem-
bles my friend, in certain respects, and that it is entirely
unlike him in others ; j. c. I am impressed with the rela-
tions of resemblance, and dissimilarity, which exist be-
tween the picture and my friend. I judge that two is to
four, as this latter number is to eight ; i, e. I feel the rela-
tion of proportion which the numbers bear to one an-
other. 1 judge that a house consists of its foundation,
roof, different apartments, &c. ; i. e. I feel the relation of
these parts to one comprehensive whole. In all these
cases the recognized relation is different, but the power by
which we recognize it is the same ; and, in each of them,
it is the power by which we become sensible of relations
in general. To admit into our enumeration of the men-
tal faculties two distinct and original faculties — one to
enable us to recognize relations, and another to enable ua
to judge, is an uncalled-for multiplication of original facul-
ties. And to retain the latter phraseology exclusively — to
'^60 THE NATURE OF
say we judge that one object is higher than another, that
the picture resembles our friend, &c. is not, perhaps, so
well adapted to throw light upon what really takes place
in the mind, as the phraseology which Dr. Brown's system
would lead us in preference to adopt.
Such, then, is a mental judgment — it is a mere feeling
or notion of relation ; and when utterance is given to it by
words, it becomes a proposition. Two are the half of
four. The words embody a recognized relation between
two and four. " The word animal," says Dr. Brown, " is
a general term expressive of a particular relation of resem-
blance that is felt by us. A horse is an animal, is a pro-
position which is merely a brief expression of this felt re^
semblance of a horse to various other creatures included
by us in the general term."
Propositions, then, being nothing more than expressions
of relations of one kind or another, which we have previ-
ously recognized, may be, of course, as various as the rela-
tions themselves which the human mind has been rendered
capable of discovering. These are, as we have seen, po-
sition, resemblance or difference, proportion, degree, and
comprehension. We have seen the importance of one of
these relations, viz, resemblance ; the recognition of which
is the basis and the guide, of all classification. We pro-
ceed to exhibit the importance of another, viz. comprehen-
sion ; the recognition of which is usually at least involved
in what we call an act of reasoning. Dr. Brown thinks
that all these various relations may be resolved into the
single relation of comprehension, or the relation of a
whole to the separate parts included under it. It is not
necessary, however, to push our analysis so far. To illus-
trate our meaning, we must explain what is meant by the
term whole, in this connexion. A whole, then, be it ob-
served, may be regarded by us as made up of parts, which
admit of actual separation from each other — as in the case
of a book, and its covers and leaves ; or of qualities,
which have no independent existence — as when we say of
gold, it is ductile, yellow, &c. And it must be especially
observed, that the power by which we recognize the rela-
JUDGING DESCRIBED. 261
tion of comprehensiveness, is in both these cases the same.
" A flake of snow," to borrow the admirable illustration of
Dr. Brown, " is composed of particles of snow which ex-
ist separately, and this composition of separate particles
in seeming coherence, is one species of totality. But the
same snow, without any integral division, may be considered
by us as possessing various qualities, which qualities are
parts of our complex notion of snow, as a substance."*
And it is the faculty of relative suggestion, or the power
of recognizing relations, which enables us to feel that the
flake comprehends the particles of which it is composed —
and that our general notion of snow comprehends a notion
of the various properties which it possesses.
An aflSrmative proposition of this kind is, then, built
upon a previously felt relation of comprehension ; since it
enumerates, or predicates, some quality or attribute of a
subject, which may be said to form a part of the subject
itself, and the notion of which is a constituent of our com-
plex conception of the subject. The one quality of which
we speak, is comprehended, and felt to be so, with other
qualities, in that general aggregate to which we state it to
belong. Gold is ductile ; i. e. our complex conception of
gold comprehends the particular notion of ductility. Every
affirmative proposition, then, of this kind, involves a men-
tal analysis of a complex notion. Our notion of snow is
complex ; L e, it is as if it were made up of the concep-
tions of the individual qualities which it possesses. We
cannot, accordingly, aflirm snow to be white, till, by a pro-
cess of mental analysis, we have ascertained that whiteness
is a constituent part of our conception of snow ; though
the proposition itself re-unites this elementary part to the
complex notion again. " It is, as it were," says Dr. Brown,
" a little process of analysis and synthesis ; 1 decompose,
and in expressing verbally to others the mental decompo-
sition which I have made, I combine again the separated
elements of my thoughts ; not, indeed, in the same man-
ner — for the analytic process is as different as matter is to
mind — but with the same feeling of agreement, or identity,
* Vol. II. pp. 540,1.
iJ62 THE NATURE OF
which rises in the mind of a chemist, when he has reduced
to one mass the very elements into which he had previously
transmuted the mass, by some one of the analyses of his
wonderful art."
The preceding remarks will prepare the way for the
statement of Dr. Brown's doctrine concerning reasoning ;
viz. that, as expressed in words, it consists in a connected
series of propositions of the kind referred to above, each of
which embodies and expresses a feeling of the relation of
comprehension. Man is an intellectual being ; he should
not, therefore, pursue the gratifications of sense only. The
preceding sentence contains two distinct propositions ; and
the whole is an effort of what is called Reasoning. Yet
few things can be more manifest than that each of the pro-
positions expresses nothing more than a recognized rela-
tion — the relation of comprehension. The first proposi-
tion exhibits something which forms a part of our complex
notion of man, uiz. intellect ; the second, something which
enters into our complex notion of an intellectual being ;
viz, elevation above the pleasures of mere appetites.
It is thus in the longest pror.ess of ratiocination. Such
a process contains nothing but a series of propositions, em-
bodying and giving utterance to a series of mental judg-
ments, viz. notions of relations ; and " if we take away these
consecutive judgments or feelings of relation, we leave
nothing behind which can be called a ratiocination." " In
a single proposition," says Dr. Brown, " we take one step
or feel one relation ; in an enthymeme we take two steps,
or feel two relations ; in a syllogism, we take three steps,
or feel three relations : whatever is affirmed in any stage of
our reasonings, is a relation of some sort, — of which, as felt
by us, the proposition that affirms the relation is only a
verbal statement."*
All reasoning then, verbally expressed, consists of a
series of propositions : it must, however, be especially
observed, that every series of propositions does not consti-
tute reasoning. God is infinitely wise ; man is prone to
* Vol. III. p, 15.
I
REASONING EXPLAINED. 268
err ; heaven is the abode of happiness ; hell the residence
of misery and despair. Here is a series of propositions,
each of them embodying a judgment, or the notion of a
relation ; but there is no ratiocination here. To constitute
reasoning, there must be a certain connexion in the propo-
sitions enunciated — a kind of thread must run through
them — by which the last is connected as effectually as the
second with the first. There are, then, two inquiries which
present themselves here.
I. What is the nature of this connexion of the proposi-
tions in a process of reasoning ? and
II. What is the principle through the influence of which
they arise in the mind, in the order required?
I. What is the nature of this cuiiiitJAiun of the proposi-
tions in a process of reasoning? This, will, perhaps, be
best ascertained by examining a particular instance of rea-
soning. Let us take the following short one: — Man is
possessed of intellect, will, freedom, (fee. ; he is therefore
a capable subject of moral government. In this example,
the term man is what is called the subject of the first pro-
position; and his affirmed capability of moral government,
is denominated its predicate. It will be observed, how-
ever, that this predicate becomes the subject of the second
proposition, which when fully expressed, stands as follows :
— A being possessed of intellect, will, freedom, &c. is a
capable subject of moral government. We are accordingly
led, by this particular instance, to the general doctrine,
that, to confer upon a series of propositions a claim to the
character of reasoning, it is essential that the predicate of
each of the propositions constitute the subject of the propo-
sition which immediately follows it ; in that case the pre-
dicate of the last, will be as certainly connected with the
subject of the first proposition, as though they stood in
juxta-position. By lengthening the preceding series of
propositions, the truth and importance of this statement
will be rendered apparent.
Man is possessed of intellect, will, freedom, &c.
ti64 tHE NATURE of
The possessor of intellect, &c. &c. is a capable subject
of moral government.
A capable subject, &c. &c. may expect that his con-
duct will hereafter undergo the scrutiny of the Judge of all.
In the above series it will be seen, that the predicate of
the first becomes the subject of the second, proposition, —
and the predicate of the second, the subject of the third ;
and, further, that the subject man of the first, is connected
with the predicate of the last ; — thus, Man may expect that
his conduct will hereafter undergo the scrutiny of the Judge
of all. The reason of this connexion will be apparent,
when it is remembered, that each of the predicates declares
what is comprehended in the complex notion expressed by
its subject. The possession of intellect, will, freedom, &c.
is involved in our cuiuplcA notion of man ^ capacity or
moral government is involved in our complex notion of a
being possessing intellect, &c. &c. ; and the certainty of
the scrutiny referred to is involved in our complex notion
of a capable subject of moral government. Now, if the
second is involved in the first — the third in the second —
and the fourth in the third — it is manifest, that the fourth
is as really involved in the first, as in the third. And thus
it is in every train of reasoning, however long that train
may be. An analysis takes place in our mind, of the com-
plex notion denoted by the first, or original subject, in con-
sequence of which we are enabled to predicate something
of it. That which is thus predicated undergoes a similar
process of analysis, the result of which is embodied in the
subsequent proposition ; so that when we arrive at the con-
clusion, how distant soever it may be, the last predicate is
as truly contained in the first, as is its particular predicate,
though it does not become visible to us till exhibited, as
it were, in its elementary state, by the repetition of analy-
sis after analysis. Dr. Brown compares the process to the
decompositions of the chemist, in which, after analyses
almost without number have been effected, the last or ul-
timate substance which is developed by the art of the che-
mist, was as truly involved in the substance upon which
his operations commenced, as in that from Avhich it was
immediately produced.
REASONING EXPLAINED. 265
II. What is the principle through the influence of which
the propositions, in a train of reasoning, arise in the mind
in the order required, L e. in such a manner as to evolve
the ultimate truth developed — or to show the connexion
which exists between the original subject, and the last
predicate, in this series of propositions? To illustrate
this subject, let us suppose ourselves possessed of an
obscure conception that the conduct of man must un-
dergo the scrutiny of the Judge of all. We examine
what would be the subject and predicate here, if the
conception were embodied in a proposition ; and we do it
without obtaining full conviction, because their relation,
or agreement, does not, perhaps, immediately appear. In
order to this, certain other conceptions must arise in the
mind — the conception of man, for instance, as the posses-
sor of intellect, &c. (fcc. — the conception that a possessor
of intellect, &c. &c. is a capable and an actual subject of
moral government. How then do these conceptions arise
in the mind, or, which is the same thing, the propositions
in which they are embodied ? Are they to be ascribed to
what is called the sagacity of an individual, enabling him
to perceive that they may be used as a kind of common
measure, somewhat in the same way that a portable piece
of wood is applied to two immoveable blocks, to ascertain
whether their lengths are equal, or the contrary ? This is,
no doubt, the common opinion on the subject. " We have
a certain sagacity," we are told by one writer, " by which
we find out the intervening propositions that are so, and
they are arranged in this order, because we have disco-
vered them to be suitable for our measurement, and put
them in their proper place." " These intervening ideas,
which serve to show the agreement of any two others,"
says Mr. Locke, " are called proofs. A quickness in the
mind to find out these intermediate ideas (that shall dis-
cover the agreement or disagreement of any other,) and to
apply them rightly, is, I suppose, that which is called saga-
city." And, in another part of his work, he define^ Rea-
son " as that faculty which finds out these means and rightly
applies them."
34
266 ORDER OF CONCEPTIONS
Dr. Brovvn maintains, on the other hand, that the inter
vening conceptions arise through the influence of the
faculty of suggestion, and according to certain laws
«» which are independent ahke of our skill, and of any ef-
forts which that skill might direct." The conceptions
which occur in our trains of thought do not, as we have
seen, follow each other loosely, but according to certain
relations. There is a relation between the notion of man,
and the notion of intellect — a similar relation between the
notion of a being possessing intellect, &c. &c. and of one
who is capable of moral government, — and, finally, a
third relation between the conception of a being who is
capable of moral government, and of one whose conduct
must undergo the scrutiny of the judgment day. These
different conceptions, then, may arise, and arise in this
order, by the faculty of simple suggestion ; and they
might have arisen, had we been constituted differently,
without the recognition of any relation in the parts of the
train. Possessed, however, as we are of the faculty of
relative suggestion, the notion of man has no sooner in-
troduced that of intellect, &.c. &c. than we feel the rela-
tion which exists between them ; and so in the following
members of the train, till the relation between man, and
the certain scrutiny of the judgment day, is at length
evolved.
The same writer shows most clearly, that the inter-
vening conceptions in a train of reasoning, cannot arise
by an act of will ; and that the discovery which they en-
able us to make, of the existing relation between the sub-
ject of the first proposition, and the predicate of the last,
is not the result of any intentional application of them
for that purpose. " A and D are before us, and have a
relation which is at present unknown, but a relation which
would be evolved to us, if B and C were to arise to our
mind. Do they then arise at our bidding ? Or do they
arise without being subject to our command, and without
obeying it? After the remarks which I have made in
reference to intellectual phaenomena, in some degree
analogons, I trust that you are able of yourselves to de-
> or "^nr
NOT DEPENDENT ON VOLlTIOlJj^TJ JT T "TT ^^
cide this question, by the argument which I n^Qd on the
occasions to which I refer. The mind, it cat^JseaMC^.
fail to occur to you, cannot will the conception of B or C,
however essential they may be to our reasoning ; since to
will them — at least if we know what we will, which is
surely essential to volition — implies the existence of the
very conceptions which we are said to will, as states of
the mind present, and prior to the existence of that sa-
gacity which is said to produce them. If B and C, there-
fore, arise to our thoughts, in the case supposed by us, it
cannot be because we have willed them, but they must
rise in consequence of laws of mind, that are independent
of our volition. In short we do not find them out, as
Locke says, but they come to us ; and when they have
thus risen in our mind, we do not apply them, as he sa3rs,
because we regard them as suitable ; but the relation
which is involved in them is felt, without any intentional
application, merely in consequence of their presence to-
gether in the mind. The skilful application, indeed, of
which he speaks, involves an error of precisely the same
kind, as that which is involved in the assertion of the vo-
lition of the particular conceptions which are said to bo
thus applied. It necessarily assumes the existence of the
very relative feeling, for the rise of which it professes to
account ; since, without this previous feeling, the com-
parative, suitableness of one medium of proof, rather than
another, would not be known. The right application of
fit conceptions, to fit conceptions, in the choice of inter-
mediate ideas, presupposes then, in the very sagacity
which is said to apply them rightly, a knowledge of the
relation which the intermediate idea bears to the object to
which it is applied ; — of the very relation, for discovering
which alone, it is of any consequence that the intermedi-
ate idea should be applied."*
He afterward adds, — and I believe the statement in-
cludes every thing of which we are really conscious in
what we call an effort of reasoning, — " If we wish to as-
certain the proportion of A to D, the conception of these.
" Vol. IT. p. 561—563.
THE SUGGESTING PRINCIPLE
as long as the wish which involves them remains, must, by
the simple laws of suggestion, excite other conceptions
related to them ; and in the multitude of relative objects,
thus capable of being suggested, it is not wonderful that
there should be some one, B or C, which has a common
relation to both A and D ; and which, therefore, becomes
a measure for comparing them, or suggests this very rela-
tion without an intentional comparison."*
The sagacity of Locke, then, seems to be nothing more
than a general vigour, and richness in the principle of
suggestion, in consequence of which, a vast variety, both
of objects and relations, arise to the mind ; by means of
some of which, the connexion is established between those
subjects of our thoughts, whose relation we wished to
ascertain.
We are all aware of the different length of time which
is occupied, by different minds, in travelling from the
original premises to the ultimate conclusion. This may
result from two causes.
J. From the different degree of rapidity with which the
mind, in consequence of the unequal strength of the sug-
gesting principle, runs through, so to speak, the series of
propositions, which are usually necessary to connect the
original subject with the ultimate predicate ; or,
II. From the different number of steps, so to speak,
which different minds require to take in arriving at the ul-
timate conclusion. " There are minds," says Dr. Brown,
" which merely by considering man, and opinion, and pu-
nishment (referring to his own illustration of the process of
reasoning), would discover, without an intervening propo-
sition, that fallible man ought not to set himself in judg-
ment as a punisher of the speculative errors of fallible
man ; there are others, perhaps, who might not perceive
the conclusion without the whole series of propositions
enumerated, though the conclusion is involved, as an ele-
ment, in the first proposition, man is fallible; and, accord-
ing as the particular intellect is more or less acute, more or
fewer of the intervening propositions will be necessary."!
•-'' Vol. 11. pp. 573, 4. t Vol. 11. p. 544.
NOT OP UNIFORM STRENGTH. 269
Some highly-gifted individuals comprehend the various
subjects which engage their attention at a single glance.
While others reach their conclusions by a slow and labo-
rious process, they gain theirs, as it were, by a single bound.
We talk of their possessing an intuitive perception of
things ; and seem to think that they gain their knowledge,
by a process strictly sui generis. In reality, however,
there is no radical difference. There is as true a connex-
ion between the first subject, and the last predicate, in any
series of propositions constituting ratiocination, as between
that subject and its immediate predicate. It is not in it-
self, then, more wonderful, that this connexion should
strike one man, and not another, than that any relation
whatever should be recognized by one man and not by
another. The radical cause of the difference, in both
cases, is, it is conceived, the different proportionable vigour,
&c. of the principle of suggestion.
ABSTRACTION.
By most writers on mental science, Abstraction has been
regarded as a distinct, and an original faculty, of the nature
and office of which the following account has been given.
Every object which presents itself to our view, possesses
a combination of qualities. To attain a knowledge of
these qualities, it is necessary to consider them separately.
Our attention must be directed id each distinct part of the
combination, as if it were a separate object. This indivi-
dual contemplation of qualities, necessarily supposes the
existence of a faculty by which the mind separates the
combinations which are presented to it ; — to this faculty
the name of Abstraction is given.
It is necessary, however, to observe, that the precise of-
fice of this supposed faculty, is not always very definitely
described. It is sometimes represented as the separate
consideration of one object, or quality, which presents itself
in connexion with others. We can think, for instance,
exclusively of the separate parts of any material or me-
•270 STATEMENTS OP MR, STEWART.
chanical whole, — of the qualities of bodies, without re-
garding the substances in which they inhere. In this man-
ner, it is said, " We can think of the leaves of a tree, dis-
tinct from the root — of the colour and length of an object,
distinct from its figure and breadth — of the soul as distinct
from the body — and of one affection of mind, as distinct
from all others." At other times, the faculty of abstrac-
tion is represented as the withdrawment of the mind from
all the other qualities of the combination, in order to the
individual consideration of one, which we wish particu-
larly to examine. Mr. Stewart, at one time, tells us, that
" Abstraction is that faculty by which the mind separates
the combinations which are presented to it;" and, at
another, that it is "the power by which certain qualities
are considered apart from the rest." Thus we have at
least three definitions of abstraction. It is the power of
withdrawing the mind from certain qualities, when a com-
bination is presented — the power of separating the quali-
ties, in this combination — the power of considering one of
them, apart from the rest, after the separation has been
effected.
In reference to the preceding statements, it is cheerfully
conceded, that we do, in point of fact, frequently regard
one object, or quality, apart from all others ; but the reader
is requested to consider, whether a distinct faculty of mind
is required to enable us to do this. On the principles of Mr.
Stewart himself, what is this separate consideration of quali-
ties, but attention to them'? " Abstraction," he tells us, " is
that power by which certain qualities are considered apart
from the rest." " Attention," he defines, " as an effort of
mind to detain the perception of an object, (or a quality,)
and to contemplate it exclusively of every thing else."
Unless, then, Mr. S. makes some nice distinction between
an effort to contemplate qualities apart from the rest, and
the actual contemplation of them. Abstraction and Atten-
tion are, on his system, identical. If this distinction is made
by him, it follows that the actual consideration of a parti-
cular quality is abstraction ; and that the mental effort
thus to consider it, is attention ; a statement which is to
ABSTRACTION EXPLAINED. !OT
my mind, almost equivalent with the declaration, that at-
tention is an effort to be attentive !
And if the consideration of certain qualities apart from
the rest, be regarded as an exercise of the faculty of Ab-
straction, why should not the notice which is given to thou-
sands of individual objects^ every day of our lives, be con-
sidered a manifestation of the same faculty ? The sound
of thunder is heard, we listen to nothing else. A meteor
darts across the sky, we see nothing else. An officer pur-
sues a suspected thief through the intricacies of a crowded
city, he observes nothing else. Is the separate considera-
tion which is thus given to these things, an effort of ab-
straction ?
If it be said that the withdrawment of the mind from
other objects, that it may give its attention to those to
which reference has been just made, is an exercise of ab-
straction, I answer that the mind cannot be said, with
any propriety, to withdraw itself It does not leax)e those
■which cease to excite its interest, but is attracted by others
which awaken a deeper interest. It will be found, I be-
lieve, to be a truth confirmed by experience, that neither
qualities, nor objects, will excite the separate considera-
tion of the mind, in the sense which Mr. Stewart attaches
to the words, which do not awaken some strong emotion.
It is the excited emotion which detains, so to speak, the
perception, or conception, by which it was occasioned,
while by a law of the mind, to which reference was made
in considering the phaenomena of attention, all accom-
panying perceptions, or conceptions, fade and disappear.
The mind is accordingly said to withdraw itself from cer
tain objects, or qualities, that it may fix its undivided
attention upon others.
Should it be alleged that abstraction, strictly speaking,
is a separation of combinations of qualities — the with-
drawment of some from the rest, for the purpose of indivi-
dual and attentive examination, — I would ask, what is
meant by the statement ? It is impossible to withdraw
qualities from the substances in which they are to be found.
It is farther impossible to effect an actual separation in
!272 ABSTRACTION AND
the combinations of qualities which present themselves to
us. We can neither separate the colour from the gold,
nor its yellowness from its ductility. If it be said we can
separate them mentally, 1 ask, again, " what is this mental
separation, but a separate consideration of the qualities ?"
Do we any otherwise separate the ductility of gold from its
colour, than by thinking of its ductility, and not thinking of
its colour ? This will not be pretended. But, it will be
said, we can thus mentally separate one quality from a
combination of qualities, with a view to a more particular
examination. I answer, that the statement involves a
contradiction ; it supposes that the separation is already
made, when the mental effort is put forth by which it is to
be effected. To attempt to separate the colour from the
gold, supposes (if we know what we attempt) that we have
separately considered or thought of the colour ; i. e. that
the abstraction is made, before we attempt to make it.
" If by this," (viz, the power of separating combinations,)
says Mr. Welsh, " it is implied that the mind has a power
of intentional separation, the existence of the faculty of
abstraction must be altogether denied. The exertion of
such a power would, in every instance, involve a contra-
diction ; for the state preceding the intentional separation,
involves the very abstraction which it is supposed to pro-
duce. If we know the part that we single out, we have
already performed all the separation that is necessary ; if
we do not know what we are singling out, the separate
part of the complex whole may indeed arise to our concep-
tion, but the operation of a peculiar faculty is not neces-
sary to account for it thus arising."* Any part of a whole
may arise by one of the laws of simple suggestion ; and in
this way we are led to the separate consideration of that
part, without any intentional withdrawment of the mind
from the rest.
This supposed faculty of abstraction has been regarded
as the ground-work of generalization. " The classifica-
tion of different objects," says Mr. Stewart, " supposes a
* Memcfirs, pp. 2B9, 9J),
GENERALIZATION. 27S
power of attending to some of their qualities or attributes,
without attending to the rest, for no two objects are to be
found without some specific difference ; and no assortment
or arrangement can be formed among things not perfectly
alike, but by losing sight of their distinguishing peculiari-
ties, and limiting the attention to those attributes which
belong to them in common,"* On this statement it is ob-
vious to remark, that it does not inform us how the com-
mon resembling qualities are recognized by the mind ; for
the mere act of attention to the attributes of various bo-
dies would not apprize us of their differences, or their re-
semblances, if we had not the faculty of recognizing rela-
tions in general. We are not however left, as we have
seen, without this faculty ; and the possession of it renders
unnecessary the supposed distinct powers of abstraction
and generalization ; for the latter, as well as the former,
is by some considered an original faculty. To recognize
relations is, in fact, to generalize. At any rate, when a re-
lation of resemblance is felt, no other power, certainly, is
necessary to guide us in classing together all those objects
which agree in exciting this common relative feeling.
There is no need to withdraw the mind from their dis-
tinguishing peculiarities; nor, indeed, can this be done
by an act of volition. The interest excited by the disco-
very of their common resembling qualities, will, on princi-
ples formerly explained, cause the perception or concep-
tion of their peculiarities or diversities to fade and dis-
appear.!
Thus classification, and generalization, are the result not
of abstraction, but of suggestion ; or of that faculty by
which we recognize relations. "In consequence of this
principle of our minds," says Dr. Brown, " we are almost
incessantly feeling some relation of similarity in objects,
and omitting, in consequence, in this feeling of resem-
blance, the parts or circumstances of the complex whole,
in which no similarity is felt. What is thus termed ab-
straction, is the very notion of partial similarity. "J
* Vol. I. p. 155. t Vide p. 273. t Vol. HI. p. 21.
35
274 RELATIONS OF SUCCESSION.
Our abstract notions of qualities, &c. are also derived
from this faculty. Objects become known to us only by
their qualities ; the resemblances, accordingly, which we
recognize in objects, must be in one or more of their quali-
ties. It sometimes happens that our attention is directed
chiefly to the objects as possessing similar qualities. " But
there are other cases in which our attention is directed to
the resembling qualities, without referring them to the ob-
jects in which they reside. Thus in looking at snow, we
feel a resemblance in the colour to that of a swan ; and
making the quality, and not the subject, the object of our
thoughts, we have the notion of whiteness."*
Abstraction is not, then, an original power ; the phae-
nomena which have been usually ascribed to it, may all
be resolved into the faculty of suggestion.
Species If.
Relations of Succession,
These relations involve the notion of time ; indeed the
connexion which their subjects bear to each other, as prior
or posterior, constitutes the very relation to which we now
refer.
Of events and feelings which stand in this relation to
each other, some may be casually prior, or posterior, and
others may be permanently and invariably so.
On the occurrence of two events or feelings, of this
latter class, one of which is the immediate antecedent of
the other, the notion of their relation, as cause and effect,
arises in the mind — a conception, that is, of the aptitude
of one to precede, and of the other to follow ; so that, in
all similar circumstances, this will be the order of their oc-
currence in every subsequent period of time.
The knowledge of this relation, or of the aptitudes of
events and feelings to precede and follow one another, sup-
plies in some measure, the place of history. When our
^ Welsh's Memoirs, pp. 273, 4.
RELATIONS OF SUCCESSION. tl7b
minds recur to the ages which are past, we feel certain
that, as it regards the changes which take place in the
physical world, and the fluctuations of human thought and
feeling, the occurrences of to-day may be regarded as a
tolerably accurate specimen of what has been going on
in the world since its creation.
It supplies further, also, in a similar degree, the place of
prophecy. It communicates, in a certain extent, the gift of
foreknowledge. It lifts up the veil which hangs over futurity.
It enables us to declare not only what has been, but what
will be — to lead the future, as Dr. Brown says, as if it were
present. If the contemplation of objects, as prior and poste-
rior, gave us no conviction that in all future time, the order
of their occurrence will, in all similar circumstances, be
the same, it is manifest that we should be utterly unable'to
take any thought for the morrow — to provide against evil
— to devise measures for seizing, and appropriating the
approaching good. Nayj it is further manifest, that we
should be unable to take thought for the present moment.
The fire that burnt us yesterday, would excite no dread of
a similar fire to-day, if it were not regarded as the cause of
our pain. The food that nourished us yesterday, would
prompt no exertion to obtain a supply of similar food to-
day, if we were not impressed with a feeling of the rela-
tion of that food to our renovated strength and spirits. It
does not appear that mere memory would be sufficient.
We recollect that some time ago, perhaps at a certain
hour, we entered a room, and began to sing, at the very
instant when the ceiling fell with violence, inflicting a seri-
ous wound upon us ; yet we enter the same room to-day,
after the ceiling has been renewed, at the same hour, and
begin to raise the same notes, without the slightest fear of
a recurrence of the disastrous event — because we do not
suppose that our singing was its cause. And such would
be the case generally without the notion of causation. It
is our conception of the fitness of some events to precede,
and of others to follow, that renders the experience of the
past, any guide in reference to the present and the future.
" The knowledge," says Dr. Brown, " of these invariable
376 EMOTIONS
relations of succession, becomes to us inestimable — not as
a medium only of intellectual luxury — but as a medium of
all the arts of life, and even of the continuance of our very
physical existence, which is preserved only by an unceasing
adaptation of our actions to the fitness or tendencies of ex-
ternal things,"*
Order IL
OF OUR I]VT£RNAL AFFECTIONS, COMPRISING OTTR EMOTIONfil.
Much curious speculation has been excited, we are told,
among philosophical inquirers, respecting the nature and
origin of this class of our feelings. Some deny that they
constitute an order generically distinct from preceding
ones. Some "trace them exclusively to the principle
of association. Others consider them as original tenden-
cies in the constitution of our nature ;" and others, again,
regard them " as referable to the different views of the
understanding."
Our Emotions differ, however, so manifestly from our
intellectual states of mind, by that peculiar vividness of
feeling which every one understands, though it may be
impossible to embody it in any verbal definition, that it
is not a little singular that one should be confounded
with the other, by any who have simply remembered and
compared^ and have also loved, or hated, desired, or
feared. It is difficult to account for the fact that they
have been thus confounded, without supposing that the
philosophers referred to, fell into the error of Gondii-
lac — the error of supposing that a feeling which is the
consequence of certain other previous feelings, is only
another form of those feelings themselves. It is con-
ceded that certain views of the understanding are ne-
cessary antecedents to certain emotions, — that a vari-
ety of circumstances may have conjoined their influ-
ence to fix our affections on the objects which engage
* Vol. III. p. 5.
DIFFER FROM INTELLECTUAL STATES. !ii77
them. But surely the emotions or affections themselves,
are states of mind generically different from the percep-
tions, or conceptions, by which they are preceded, and
produced. They presuppose the existence of different
susceptibilities of mind. '' We might have been consti-
tuted," says Dr. Brown, " with respect to our intellectual
states of mind, so as to have had all the varieties of these,
our remembrances, judgments, and creations of fancy,
without our emotions,'*'' On this point, however, it is not
my intention to enlarge. I feel, indeed, at a loss what to
say which would be likely to convince those whom the
evidence of consciousness does not teach, that the recol-
lection of a certain event, for instance, or the recognition
of a particular relation, is a state of mind which differs
essentially from the emotion of joy or sorrow, love or
hatred.
The business of the mental philosopher is, we have
said, to analyze and classify. This statement is not less
true with regard to our emotions, than to our intellectual
states of mind. It appears, however, more desirable to
classify the emotions not in their elementary state, but in
those complex conditions in which they generally exhibit
themselves in the world, and have received certain definite
characteristic names ; and, in the consideration of the
separate affections, to state the elements of which the
complex whole is composed.
In arranging all the vivid feelings to which reference is
now made under the general head of Emotions, it is in-
tended, of course, to intimate that they do not admit of
generic distinctions. Some writers, indeed, conceive that
they form three divisions, under the generic names of
Passions, Emotions, and Affections. In this arrangement
they are supported by the authority of Dr. Cogan, who
tells us, that the almost universal disagreement among
philosophers in their ideas concerning the precise nature
of a passion, emotion, and affection, was one, among
other inducements, to the publication of his work on the
Passions. Under the influence of regret at this circum-
stance, and of his opinion, that the three terms just men-
278 EMOTIONS.
tioned designate so many generic varieties of those vivid
feelings to which we are about to attend, he is, of course,
very anxious to give a precise definition of them. He
tells us, that he paid great attention to the vi^orkings of
the human mind — that he has pursued the analytical
method of examination, (fee. ; but the manner in which
he writes forces upon my mind the conviction, not merely
that there are no such generic varieties as those for which
he contends, but that, like many others, he has spent more
time in investigating the meaning of terms, than in
actually observing the operations of mind. I shall lay
before the reader the substance of Dr. Cogan's remarks,
together with a few observations which are manifestly
suggested by them.
The three terms. Passions, Emotions, and Affections,
are always employed, he tells us, to express the sensible
effects which objects, or ideas concerning them, have up-
on the mind. And, after taking a rapid glance at the man-
ner in which the first of the terms is used, he proceeds to
say that, in most of these applications, no attention has
been paid to the primitive signification of the word Pas-
sion, " although this appears," he adds, " to be the safest
method to recall us from those aberrations to which we
are perpetually exposed." Under the guidance of this
principle, he goes on to state, that the primary idea at-
tached to the word is that of passivity^ or being impul-
sively acted upon — that the term Passion, therefore, may
with strict propriety be used, and used exclusively, to re-
present the Jirst feeling, the percussion, as it were, of
which the mind is conscious from some impulsive cause ;
by which it is wholly acted upon, without any efforts of
its own, either to solicit, or to escape the impression.
With reference to Emotion, the Doctor says, " The state
of universal passiveness described above, in consequence
of this sudden percussion of mind, is of short duration.
The strong impression, or vivid sensation, immediately
produces a re-action correspondent to its nature, either to
appropriate and enjoy, or to avoid and repel the exciting
cause. This re-action," he adds, {query of the mind ?) " is
STATEMENTS OP DR. COGAN. '27\)
very properly distinguished by the term Emotion. Emo-
tions, however," he immediately afterward states, "are
principally and primitively applicable to the sensible
changes, and visible effects, which particular passions pro-
duce upon the frame in consequence of this re-action, or
particular agitation of mind."
Again, he tells us, that " the term Emotion is sometimes
expressive of lively sensations which do not produce visible
effects, in any degree proportionate to their feelings. In
emotions the mind is not so completely or necessarily pas-
sive ; it possesses some power over the external signs, &c."
Finally, he states, that the term is frequently employed
to mark the first impression which particular objects make
upon susceptible minds, whether they remain concealed, or
not. " Thus in the fine arts," he adds, " the charms of mu-
sical compositions which are novel to us ; — the first view
of a gallery of paintings possessing distinguished merit;
— the surprise of a beautiful or elevated sentiment, or po-
etic description, will generally make a more vivid impres-
sion upon us, than that which is felt, in a continued, or re-
newed contemplation of the same subjects."
The third term, Affection, has, he tells us, a different
signification from either of the preceding ones. " It al-
ways represents a less violent, and generally a more dura-
ble influence which things have upon the mind. It is ap-
plicable to the manner in which we are affected by them
for a continuance. It supposes a more deliberate predi-
lection and aversion, in consequence of the continued in-
fhience of some prevailing quality. This distinguishes it
from the transient influence of passion. Nor is it intimately
connected with any external signs ; which distinguishes it
from emotions, &c. &c."*
On these statements the following observations are sub-
mitted to the reader; First, that in his explanation of the
term Passion, Dr. C. appears to proceed on a radical mis-
take — the mistake of supposing that the nature of any state
or operation of the mind, may be ascertaiped by a refer-
* Fide Treatise on the Passions, 3cl Edition, p. 2—10.
)>S0 REMARKS UPON
ence to the primitive signification of the term which is
used to denote it. He has given us, it is probable, a cor-
rect account of the original meaning of the term passion ;
yet he merely exhibits thereby the opinion of those who
first used the term to designate the states of mind in ques-
tion. Had they been infallible men, we should be bound of
course to believe that what we call the passions are states
of mind in which it is altogether passive. But since they
were not infallible, what more than the ordinary respect
which we pay to the judgment of intelligent men, do we
owe to their judgment, of which the word in question is a
manifestation ? Language is only the expression of hu-
man opinion. To refer, therefore, to the original, or even
general acceptation of mere terms, with a view to ascer-
tain the nature of those mental states or operations which
they are used to denote, is worse than trifling. It is to al-
low the opinions and authority of men to regulate our sen-
timents, while we profess to derive them, as Dr. Cogan
does, from an actual examination of the workings of the
mind.
Suppose we were to apply the principles of this writer
to the mental state, denoted by the term Idea. It is deri-
ved from the Greek siSsw, to see. An idea must, there-
fore, be something which is capable of being seen ; i. e,
an idea of a house must be an image of a house. Thus we
are plunged at once into the bog of the Stagyrite. I am
not certain whether the Doctor himself would wish to make
his escape from the spot to which his philosophy must in-
fallibly conduct him.
Secondly, that it is impossible to perceive clearly the line
of distinction which is drawn by Dr. Cogan, between pas-
sions, emotions, and affections — or, as it would perhaps be
more correct to say, that he has himself failed to exhibit
any line of distinction. In so far as the words denote states
of mind, he does not seem to think that there is any speci-
fic difference between them. Of passions and emotions,
he says, the difference is simply in degree, not in kind ; and
of the affections, he adds, some of them indicate them-
selves so strongly, that they approach to emotions. The
DR. cogan's statements. ^81
passions, according to this writer, seem to denote the more
violent excitements of mind — the emotions, those which
are in a degree less powerful — and the affections, such as
are comparatively moderate and gentle. But where is the
mental thermometer by which they are to be measured ?
Who shall tell us when passion sinks to emotion, and
when emotion rises to passion ? According to the doc-
trine of Cogan, we need a thermometer for every individual
mind; for what is passion in one man, would scarcely rise
to emotion in another ; yet thermometer we have none.
It is on this account that a classification, founded on a
mere difference of degree, is inadmissible; a division
should be built on a specific difference. How immensely
do our sensations differ from each other in point of inten-
sity ! Yet what philosopher has ever thought of dividing
them into the most intense — the moderately intense — the
least intense ? And yet, with respect to sensations, there
would be a more manifest reason for such a division ; inas-
much as all our sensations may become actually painful by
their intensity ; and might accordingly seem, on that ac-
count, to admit of being arranged in the three divisions of
pleasant — painful — and indifferent. For reasons formerly
assigned, however, such a mode of classification is never
adopted. How infinite are the gradations in that state of
mind to which the name of Love is assigned ! Why should
we not, then, on the principles of Dr. Cogan 's classification,
subdivide it into three classes, and talk of the passion of
love — the emotion of love — and the aflfection of love, as
though the feeling in each class were specifically different ?
There is, in fact, a far broader and more visible line of
distinction between the various kinds of emotions specified
by Cogan, than between the three classes of mental emo-
tions, affections, and passions. Passions invariably pro-
duce visible effects ; but this is also the case with some
emotions. Affections do not indicate themselves by visi-
ble effects; and there are some emotions which remain
concealed in the bosom. Where then is the broad line of
distinction between these three classes ? There is obviously
none. But, on the other hand, while some emotions are
36
282 REMARKS UPON
mere bodily affections, others have, according to his state-
ment, their seat in the mind — a difference which causes a
broad line of distinction between them, and constitutes a
basis for classification.
Thirdly^ that some of the statements, to which reference
has been made, are contradictory. The book is written
for the professed purpose of explaining certain mental
states^ not any mere bodily affections^ how important sover
they may be. In harmony with this professed object, the au-
thor states that the three terms Passions, Emotions, and
Affections, are always employed to express the sensible
effects which objects, or ideas concerning them, have upon
the mind.^ And yet, when he comes to define Emotion,
he tells us, in effect, that it denotes not an effisct upon the
mind at all, but upon the animal frame !
In an introductory paragraph he gives his opinion, that
emotion is the re-action of the mind, after a state of pas-
sion ; and, in the very next, he declares, in effect, that it is
not the re-action of the mind but the consequence of this
re-action — or its visible effects upon the frame ! At one
moment he assures us that the word Passion may be used
exclusively to denote the Jirst feeling of which the mind
is conscious from some impulsive cause ; while, in the very
next, he states, that though passion denotes exclusively the
first feeling, emotion is frequently employed to mark the
first impression which particular objects make upon sus-
ceptible minds. From a work containing statements such
as these, it is in vain to expect precision. And yet the
writer complains bitterly of the want of precision in phi-
losophical investigations, and adds, " it is hoped the above
explanations of the terms Passions, Emotions, and Affec-
tions, will obtain the approbation of philosophic readers,
since they were suggested to the author by an attention to
the workings of the human mind,'''* I find it impossible
to doubt that Dr. Cogan deceived himself here. To talk
of ascertaining that emotion is an effect produced upon
the body, by attention to the workings of the mind, cannot
* P. 2.
DR. cogan's statement?. '283
be regarded as much less absurd, than to look to con-
sciousness to explain the nature of a broken leg. If emo-
tion were what this writer represents it, it would not be a
mental affection. The intellectual philosopher would
have no more concern with it than with the fever, or para-
lysis, which are sometimes the results of strong mental
excitement. To gain any knowledge of it, we should be
constrained to resort to perception. There are, doubtless,
in Dr. Cogan's book, many good general descriptions of
the passions in those complex forms in which they ordina-
rily present themselves to our view ; but this introductory
chapter is fatal to all hope of meeting with enlightened
philosophical views, with just and delicate analysis, or even
with tolerable precision. Were there no other complaint
to make, the grossly material vehicle in which he has cho-
sen to communicate his thoughts — adapted as it is either
to convey no notions, or false ones — would be sufficient
to justify severity of censure. To define passion as the
percussion of the mind, is to give us no information, or to
materialize the mind. To talk of the impetus of the pas-
sion upon the corporeal system, is to fall into the same
error. If the meaning be, that the passion awakens desire
or fear, the one leading us to avoid, and the other to pur-
sue, the object which kindled the passion, why is this not
said ? Why does the Doctor write, while professing to ad-
mit the separate existence of mind, as if matter and mind
had common properties, and were governed by common
laws?
While I thus oppose the statements of Dr. Cogan, and
deny that there is any specific difference between what he
denominates Passions, Emotions and Affections, I would
not be understood as wishing to discard the terms them-
selves. It is convenient to have words which mark dif-
ferent degrees of intensity and permanence in the same
radical feeling, as, in grammar, it is desirable to invest the
adjective with different degrees of comparison. The word
Passion may be very properly retained to denote the su-
perlative degree, so to speak, of any of those feelings
which sometimes blaze with fierceness for a moment, and
•284 DIFFERENT MODES
then expire ; or, as Dr. Brown says, '' to designate our de-
sires when they become very vivid and permanent ;" thus
we talk of the passion of the miser, the passion of ambi-
tion, which is only an exalted and lasting desire of worldly
power and splendour. The word Affection may be ad-
vantageously employed to denote emotions when they ex-
ist in a moderate and gentle state, and have the character
of perpetuity ; as the parental affection, conjugal affection,
&c. Still all our states of mind, of this kind, may be ar-
ranged under the general head of Emotions. They admit
of classification, like sensations ; but they display no gene-
ric varieties. I proceed to state the principle of classifi-
cation ; and then to consider the emotions separately.
Very different modes of classification have been propo-
sed and adopted by writers on this subject. " Some have
placed them," says Cogan, " in contrast to each other, as
hope and fear, joy and sorrow, &c. Some have consider-
ed them as they are personal, relative, social : some ac-
cording to their influence at different periods of life : others
according as they relate to past, present, or future time ; as
sorrow principally refers to things past ; joy and anger to
present scenes ; hope and fear respect futurity. The aca-
demicians advanced, that the principal passions are fear,
hope, joy and grief." " Dr. Hartley has arranged thepas-
sions under five grateful, and five ungrateful ones. The
grateful ones, are love, desire, hope, joy, and pleasing re-
collection ; the ungrateful are hatred, aversion, fear, grief,
displeasing recollection." The affections, termed by him
Intellectual Pleasures and Pains, are arranged under six
general classes, — imagination, ambition, self-interest, sym-
pathy, theopathy, and the moral sense. A concise account
of the system of Hartley is given by Belsham in his Ele-
ments of Moral Science. Dr. Watts divides the passions
into two leading classes — the primitive and derivative.
The primitive he subdivides into two ranks. First, admi-
ration, love and hatred. Second, the divers kinds of love
and hatred ; as esteem, contempt, benevolence, malevo-
lence, complacency, displacency. The derivatives are de-
sire, aversion, hope, fear, gratitude, anger, &.c.
OP CLASSIFYING THE EMOTIONS. 285
Mr. Grove's system resembles that of Watts. Doctors
Doddridge and Beattie appear also to have approved of it.
Dr. Cogan's classification is founded on the assumption
that, in the nature of man, there is the principle of self-love,
and the social principle. Some of our passions and affec-
tions owe their origin, he supposes, to the former — others
to the latter principle ; and thus are formed the two classes,
into which he divides all our feelings of the kind we are
now considering. Under each of these classes, he admits
two orders.
Order the Jirst^ includes those passions which are excited
by the idea of good. Order the second, comprehends
those which are awakended by the idea of evil.
The first order admits of subdivision in the following
manner. The good may be in our possession ; when it
will occasion various degrees of enjoyment, from simple
gratification to ecstacy. Or, it may not be in our posses-
sion ; when, according to different circumstances, it will
inspire desire or hope.
The second order may be thus subdivided. The evil to
which it relates may be the loss of good possessed or de-
sired. Or, it may be apprehension of loss, or injury, or dis-
appointment. The loss or disappointment will occasion
sorrow; the apprehension, fear. The cause of this sorrow
and fear may be some agent, whose designed conduct, or
whose inadvertency, may threaten and produce injuries,
and thus excite anger in various degress.
The second class, comprehending the passions and
affections derived from the social principle, admits of two
orders.
Order the Jlrst, includes those which are excited by bene-
volence, in which good is the predominant idea. From be-
nevolence flow good desires, and dispositions, and good
opinions. Out of good desires spring the social affections,
and the sympathetic affections. From good opinions pro-
ceed gratitude, admiration, esteem, respect, veneration,
fondness, &c.
Order the second, including those passions and affections
in which evil is the predominant idea, may be subdivided
286 DR. brown's classification.
into malevolent desires and dispositions — as malignancy^
envy, rage, &c. &c. &c. ; and displacency — as horror,
contempt, indignation, &c.
Dr. Brown's arrangement is given us in the following
terms : " The most obvious principle of general arrange-
ment seems to me their relation to time — as immediate, or
involving no notion of time whatever ; — as retrospective,
in relation to the past ; — or as prospective, in relation to
the future. Admiration, remorse, hope, may serve as par-
ticular instances to illustrate my meaning in this distinc-
tion. We admire what is before us, — we feel remorse for
some past crime, — we hope for some future good.''*
There are other advantages of this arrangement besides
the one which Dr. Brown has himself mentioned. It is
simple, and it is comprehensive. There are none of our
emotions, in those complex states in which they usually
present themselves, and to which particular names have
been attached, which do not easily arrange themselves in
one or other of these classes ; though, it must be acknow-
ledged, that all the elementary parts, when the complex
feeling is analyzed, are not invariably found to belong to
the same class with the complex feeling itself.
Dr. Cogan's arrangment does not include all our emo-
tions ; it rejects, as we shall afterward see, the feelings of
surprise, wonder, and astonishment ; and it does not clas-
sify love and hatred, desire and aversion, with our passions,
but rather represents them as the causes of our passions.
Indeed the statements of this writer, on this point, con-
stitute the most objectionable part of his book. They
proceed, I humbly conceive, on a radically mistaken con-
ception of the nature of the human mind. We cannot think
justly with regard to mind, without supposing that each of
the various emotions which it experiences, presupposes
the existence of a power, or susceptibility, in the mind of
becoming the subject of that emotion. No joy, no grief,
no anger, &c. &.c. could be felt, had not the Creator of
the mind imparted to it a distinct susceptibility (in the
* Vol. III. pp. 36, 7.
MISTAKES Of COG AN. 287
sense formerly explained) of experiencing joy, grief, anger,
&c. Dr. C. has entirely forgotten this. He exhibits all our
emotions, or passions as he calls them, as necessarily
springing out of one single principle, to which he gives
the name of love to well-being. This he regards as the
first and leading principle of our nature, and all others as
the necessary consequences of this principle, in beings
similarly formed and circumstanced with ourselves. Im-
plant in the mind of man this single principle, and with-
out any distinct susceptibility of experiencing joy, grief,
anger &c., these emotions will, in the circumstances sup-
posed by him, he imagines, necessarily arise. On this
statement I observe,
Firsts That of the principle itself no intelligible account
has been given. What is " well-being ?" Can any other
conception be formed of it, than as a state in which the
mind is in the enjoyment of feelings which have been ren-
dered, by its very constitution, grateful to it ? What is love
to well-being, but love to those grateful feelings ? Is it
not, then, manifest that a state of well being, supposes
the mind to have been endowed with various susceptibili-
ties of grateful feeling, and that the individual, who is the
subject of this state, is possessed of objects adapted to de-
velope these susceptibilities ? What is that well-being
which is previous to contentment, complacency, delight,
and other happy emotions, and the love of which actually
produces these emotions ? Surely well-being is content-
ment, complacency, delight, &c. I do not, I apprehend,
express myself in terms of undeser\'ed severity, when I
say, that a system of philosophy, which commences by
speaking of a state of well-being — or a grateful state of
existence — as something which exists previously to all
grateful feelings, and then proceeds to trace all these feel-
ings to the natural and necessary influence of love to this
state of well being, is radically absurd.
Secondly, I observe that, if a state of well-being could
be conceived of as existing previously to the possession
of grateful feelings, love to this state would not originate
the emotions of complacency, delight, &c. which are sup-
288 EMOTIONS.
posed, by this system, to result from it. Contentment,
complacency, &c. are states of mind produced by the
possession of an object previously desired ; the states of
mind are in themselves delightful ; but they exist only in
consequence of a distinct susceptibility of experiencing
them — or, in other words, because God has so formed the
human mind, as that when the object to which we have re-
ferred is possessed, the feeling of contentment, or compla-
cency, &c. immediately arises.
Had Dr. Cogan not embarrassed himself by attempting
to trace all our emotions to this strange principle of love
to well-being — had he recollected, that all our emotions
arise in consequence of the existence of corresponding
susceptibilities — and had he classified love, hatred, desire,
aversion, &c. among our emotions, instead of represent-
ing them as the causes of those emotions, he might, per-
haps have presented us with an arrangement more worthy
of adoption than that which is founded on their mere rela-
tion to time. This latter classification is, however, so sim-
ple, that, without hesitation, we follow Dr. Brown in adopt-
ing it.
EMOTIONS.
Class I. — Comprehending those which are immediate^
or involve no notion of time.
In this class may be included, — cheerfulness in all its
different gradations, melancholy, surprise, wonder, aston-
ishment, languor, beauty, deformity, grandeur, sublimity,
ludicrousness, moral approbation and disapprobation, love
and hate, sympathy, pride and humility.
The possession of some of the susceptibilities implied in
the foregoing terms, renders us capable subjects of moral
government ; and it is in the manner in which several of
these emotions arise, and continue to be developed, that
much of virtue and vice consists. But they are now to be
considered rather " physiologically than ethically." Our
(;U££RfULN£SS. 289
business at present is chiefly to examine tlie nature of the
mental affections enumerated above, that we may gain a
more accurate knowledge of mind, as capable of experi-
encing them ; though it may be proper, as we proceed, to
point out, with reference to some of them at least, their
moral character.
CHEERFULNESS.
With the nature of this emotion all are acquainted.
Dr. Brown has described it as " a sort of perpetual glad-
ness." It only approaches to perpetuity, however, in the
young, and in some of the choicer spirits of our race, in
whom it constitutes a kind of habit of mind. Individuals,
whose mental temperature is rather grave than gay, and
aged persons, generally speaking, enjoy not the constant
sunshine of this delightful state of mind. It manifests,
however, the benevolence of our Maker, that he has ren-
dered the human mind susceptible of the emotion ; and
the habitual want of it, when such is the case, is to be as-
cribed to human perversity, and to the infelicity of circum-
stances which that perversity has introduced. There are
words of kindred import, such as contentment, satisfac-
tion, complacency, gladness, joy, delight, &c., which some
authors consider as the symbols of so many radically dis-
tinct emotions, excited by the idea of good in possession.
The fact, however, seems to be, that the emotion denoted
by all the words is the same, — that the feelings indicated
by them, are modifications of the simple emotion of joy.
The terms, however, may be properly enough retained to
exhibit different degrees of the same mental affection — or
to mark a distinction between the emotion, in combination
with the conception of its cause, forming a complex state
of mind, as in the case of complacency ; and without any
such combination, as in the case of cheerfulness. Content-
ment, satisfaction, gladness, joy, &c. are complex states of
mind. When analyzed, the elements presented are — the
simple emotion of joy — and the conception of the cause of
that emotion. They differ from each other only in the cir-
37
29() MELANCHOLY.
cumstance, that the elementary emotion is more poweriul
in some than in others ; rising, by regular gradations, from
contentment to joy, and delight. Cheerfulness is the sim-
ple emotion itself — for we are frequently " cheerful with-
out knowing why" — though the word denotes the emotion
in its gentler state.
MELANCHOLY.
Of this term, together with several kindred ones, the
following account has been given. " The lowest degree
of painful feeling may be termed uneasiness. The word
discontent is used when we are able, with some distinct-
ness, to specify the cause of the evil suffered. Dissatisfac-
tion is a higher feeling, of a painful nature. It supposes
previous expectation, and present disappointment. Vexa-
tion arises from a variety of trifling and momentary trou-
bles, which cross our wishes, and contribute to our disap-
pointment. It appears to be the exact counterpart of
gladness, and is greatly heightened and modified by sur-
prise, and unexpectedness. It discovers itself by lively ex-
pressions of displeasure, and sometimes by violent affec-
tions of the animal part of our nature. Sorrow is the di-
rect opposite of joy ; and denotes a more permanent state
of mind than what exists under the influence of the above-
mentioned feelings. Grief, and sorrow, are nearly syno-
nymous terras ; only grief is more commonly applied to the
first and more violent excitements of sorrow ; and sorrow
to the more settled and lasting affection of grief. Hence
sorrow remains, when grief has subsided. Thus the death
of a dear relative, or friend, may produce a paroxysm of
grief, so violent, that even the term transport is sometimes
applied to express its power ; thus conveying the idea, that
the mind is carried beyond itself by its force. In this in-
stance, it is the exact counterpart of lively dehght. The
conception of the loss, however, thus producing violent
grief, may become, by degrees, so chastened and modified,
as to settle into sorrow. The external indications of this
passion are sometimes extremelv violent, and even, when
MELANCHOLY. 291
subsided, they leave traces and marks of their influence on
the animal frame, and on the habits of the mind. Objects
that once excited pleasure, become invested with gloom ;
one class of associations predominates over all the rest.
In numerous cases, the imagination receives an amazing
stimulus from the excitement of sorrow ; and the power of
memory becomes unusually vivid, and strong. Hence the
loss is aggravated ; the mind indulges its reveries of wo ;
and it sometimes happens that the grief is so long nou-
rished — and one train of painful associations becomes so
marked and predominant, as to suspend or derange the
right use of the rational powers. There are occasionally
produced, in some instances, the raging of madness, and,
in others, " the morbid sadness of melancholy. The pas-
sion of sorrow," adds this writer, " is peculiarly distin-
guished as being of a tacit, uncommunicative nature.
Unlike joy, it wishes not to excite kindred feelings in
others ; it is marked by silence ; and, retiring into the
scenes of privacy, it weeps alone. ' Peter went out to
weep.' It is not till the passion of sorrow has subsided
into an aflfection, that it becomes capable of what is called
the luxury of grief. In this state, the communciation of
the feeling may be a source of gratification."
The preceding statements represent the words explained,
as denoting the same radical emotion in different degrees,
or as existing in combination with some other feeling. The
radical emotion is grief; which constitutes, as Dr. Brown
thinks, one of the elementary emotions. It is capable, like
the qualities of material objects, of various degrees of" in-
tension ," at one time it may be found in its elementary
state ; at others, in combination with some conception or
notion, forming with it a complex state of mind — but the
radical emotion is the same in all. And, since in classify-
ing our emotions, we do not, on various accounts, regard
them in their elementary principles, but in those complex
conditions in which they generally present themselves to
our view, it follows that the same emotion, when in com-
bination with a certain conception, and when it presents
202 MELANCHOLY.
itself in its elementary state, may admit of being arranged
differently. This is the case with Regret, and Melancholy,
or sadness. Iti mere sadness there may be no notion of
the cause of the emotion — we are melancholy we know
not why ; but in regret, the same emotion is combined
with a conception of its cause — we must regret something.
And, as the cause of regret must be a past event, regret is
classed by Dr. Brown among our retrospective emotions.
Whether this does not go far to prove that a more philoso-
phic arrangement of our emotions than that which he
adopts, and which is here followed on account of its sim-
plicity, might have been suggested, I will not undertake
to say.
Dr. Brown describes melancholy as " that state of mind
which intervenes between the absolute affliction of some
great calamity, and that peace which afterward succeeds
to it." This description supposes that time has an influ-
ence in softening violent grief into melancholy ; an in-
fluence which has been remarked upon, as frequently as
it has been observed ; though I am not aware that any
writer, besides Dr. Brown, has presented us with any
statement which can claim the character of a philosophi-
cal explanation of the phsenomenon. The amount of his
statements is as follows : The grief is, at first, pure, un-
mixed grief By the laws of suggestion, however, in con-
sequence of which any simple feeling may be rendered
complex, this grief becomes combined with other feelings
produced by passing events, so that it partakes gradually
less and less of the nature of that pure affliction which
constituted the original sorrow ; till at length it is so
much softened and diversified by repeated combinations,
as scarcely to retain the same character, and to be rather
sadness, or a sort of gentle tenderness, than affliction.
Further, with the original feeling, all surrounding ob-
jects are at first strongly associated, so that the sight of
any one of them recalls that feeling, when the mind is
momentarily diverted, by the ordinary laws of suggestion ;
that is, as we say, in popular phraseology, renews the
grief. By degrees, however, these surrounding objects
SURPRISE, WONDER, AND ASTONISHMENT. 293
become associated with other feelings, which they recall
more frequently than the original feeling, in consequence
of one of the secondary laws of suggestion. Thus the
melancholy is less frequently excited, because fewer ob-
jects now recall it, and it is, at the same time, gentler
when it is renewed.*
SURPRISE, WONDER, AND ASTONISHMENT.
The states of mind denoted by these words are de-
nominated by Dr. Cogan, " Introductory Emotions." It
did not appear to him possible to trace them to the influ-
ence of what he calls the leading principle of our nature,
viz, love to well-being. They do not, accordingly, appear
in his enumeration of the passions, 6lc, ; but he has been
constrained to station them in a position which is almost
as singular as the very remarkable language he employs
concerning them. " Being," says he, " a class of emo-
tions in which distinct ideas of good or evil are not pre-
sent to the mind, they may enlist themselves under either
division ;" i. e, under the division of passions and affec-
tions, which are excited by the idea of good — or of
those which are awakened by the idea of evil. But if,
when these emotions, as he calls them, arise, no ideas of
good or evil are present to the mind, by which they may be
excited ; and d fortiori, if emotions are not mental affec-
tions — if they are the effects produced by powerful excite-
ments of mind upon the body, (the sense in which he
avows his intention of using the term) — it is perfectly
manifest that they ought not to be placed in either division.
He proceeds, in his description of them, in the following
indefinite manner : " They" (i. e, the Introductory Emo-
tions, as he calls them) " are vivid impressions," (query,
upon what ?) productive of effects," (on what ?) " which,
strictly speaking, neither belong to the passions nor affec-
tions ; and yet their presence" (where ?) " frequently con-
stitutes the difference between an affection and a pas-
sion,"! The reader must make what he can of this pas-
* Vol. III. p. 47-51. t P. 49.
294 CLASS I. SURPRISE, &C.
to me it is unintelligible. Nor does his subsequent
definition of Surprise throw any more light upon the sub-
ject. "■ Whatever presents itself," he tells us, " in a sudden
and unexpected manner, makes a proportionably greater
impression upon us ; the first percussion will be more vio-
lent ; and this circumstance," he adds, " will give peculiar
energy to the exciting cause, whatever its peculiar complex-
ion may be. A strong impulse is given, by the very mode
of its appearance, previous to our being able to acquire a
distinct knowledge of its nature. ThisHmpulse is the emo-
tion," he adds, " we term surprise."* I have marked, by
italic characters, the words which throw ambiguity over
the whole statement. An impulse is given, he states, and
this impulse is surprise. To what does he mean, I ask, is
the impulse given ? The connexion would seem to inti-
mate that his intention is to affirm that it is imparted to
the exciting cause of the affection. But, if such be his
meaning, it necessarily follows that surprise, on his system,
is neither an affection of the mind, nor of the body, but in-
creased power of impression in an external object. If he
mean that the impulse is given to the mind, then it follows
that emotion is not, as he affirms, the effect of strong in-
ternal feeling upon the corporeal frame, I cannot avoid
suspecting that there was nothing definite in the Doctor's
own conceptions on the subject. He seems to have had
an obscure idea, that the qualities of novelty and unexpect-
edness must produce some distinct mental feeling ; and
yet, not knowing what to think of this feeling, or how to
classify it, he perhaps unconsciously abandons this idea in
the course of his statements, and writes, not as though he
considered surprise a distinct mental feeling, but the no-
velty and UNEXPECTEDNESS of an event, giving to the feel-
ing which the event is, in itself, adapted to produce, a
greater degree of vividness. He frequently remarks upon
the influence of these introductory emotions, as he calls
them, in converting affections into passions. And he states
it as highly probable, that " the essential and characteristic
difference between a Passion and an Affection, depends
SURPRISE, WONDER, AND ASTONISHMENT. 295
lipon the superaddition of surprise to the natural effect pro-
duced by the real or supposed quality of an object ; that
this emotion, conjoined with the specific nature of its ex-
citing cause, is virtually the efficient cause of a passion ;
the percussion of surprise rendering the affection visible,
by characteristic signs, correspondent with its specific na-
ture."* I admit, that it is impossible to gather any thing
with certainty from this statement ; but it would appear
to be the idea of the writer, that an object, in itself adapted
to awaken a certain affection, produces, when it appears
suddenly and unexpectedly, a more than ordinarily vigor-
ous excitement of that affection. The mental feeling, in
this case, is not different in kind from the ordinary instances
of it, but in degree only ; so that surprise is not a distinct
mental feeling, but merely the novelty and unexpectedness
of an event, imparting increased vividness to other feelings.
The reader is referred to what he says with reference to
wonder and astonishment, in confirmation of this opinion ;
neither my limits nor my inclinations will permit me to fol-
low statements, which appear to me at least so unusually
indefinite, in a professedly philosophical work, any further.
The error that no distinct emotion, or mental feeling, is
denoted by any of the terms to which we now refer, was
committed also by Dr. Adam Smith. "Surprise," says
this writer, " is not to be regarded as an original emotion,
of a species distinct from all others. The violent and sud-
den change produced upon the mind, when an emotion of
any kind is brought upon it, constitutes the whole na-
ture of surprise ;"t i. e. a sudden change from grief to joy,
or from joy to grief, is surprise. We would ask here, what
is this change ? It is neither the grief nor the joy, but the
cessation of one, and the commencement of the other.
How then it can have happened, that the mere termination
of grief, and the beginning of sorrow, could be regarded by
Dr. Smith as an emotion, (for his language implies that sur-
prise is an emotion, though not an original one) is cer-
tainly adapted to produce in us that change which is thus
"" P. 190. t Vide Essays on Philosophical Subjects, p. 6.
296 CLASS I. SURPRISE, (fcc,
singularly designated. " If there be any emotion," says
Dr. Brown, " which is truly original, it really seems to me
very difficult to discover one which could have a better
claim to this distinction than surprise. It certainly is not
involved in either of the successive perceptions, or concep-
tions, or feelings of any kind, the unusual successions of
which appear to us surprising ; and if it be not, even in
the slightest degree, involved in either of them separately,
it cannot be involved in the two, which contain nothing
more, as successive, than they contained separately. When
the two are regarded by the mind as objects, indeed, they
may give rise to feelings which are not involved in them-
selves, and the emotion of surprise may be, or rather truly
is, one of these secondary feelings ; but the surprise is then
an original emotion, distinct from the primary states of
mind which gave birth to it, indeed, but do not constitute
it. Sudden joy and sudden sorrow, even in their most vio-
lent extremes, might succeed each other reciprocally, in
endless succession, without exciting surprise, if the mind
had been unsusceptible of any other feelings than joy and
sorrow. Surprise is evidently not joy, — it is as evidently
not sorrow, — nor is it a combination of joy and sorrow ; — it
is surely, therefore, something different from both ; and we
can say with confidence, that before the mind can be asto-
nished at the succession of the two feelings, it must have
been rendered susceptible at least of a third feeling."*
If the statements of Dr. Smith are correct, why are not
animals in general susceptible of surprise, and wonder, and
astonishment, as well as the human race, for they experi-
ence sudden transitions from joy to sorrow, and from sor-
row to joy ?
There is, then, we conceive, an original susceptibility of
mind, of which brutes are destitute, rendering us capable
of a specific emotion at the occurrence of any thing un-
expected, new, vast, &c. To attempt to describe the
feeling is absurd. All the simple feelings of our natui'e
must be experienced in order to be known ; nothing more
* Vol. III. p. 63, 4.
SURPRISE, WONDER, AND ASTONISHMENT. 297
can be done by us than to point out the circumstances in
which they ordinarily arise. There is one question, how-
ever, to which a little attention must be devoted ; viz, is
the emotion, designated by the various words, surprise,
wonder, and astonishment, strictly speaking, one emotion,
or as different as the words by which it is denoted ? The
latter appears to^e the more common opinion. It is sup-
ported by the weight of Dr. Smith's authority, although
his statements, on this point, appear to be necessarily at
variance with his doctrine, that surprise is not an original
emotion. What is new and singular, he conceives to ex-
cite that feeling, or sentiment, as he calls it, which, in
strict propriety, is termed Wonder ; what is unexpected,
that different feeling which is commonly called Surprise.
" We wonder," says he, " at all extreme and uncommon
objects — at all the rarer phaenomena of nature — at me-
teors, comets, and eclipses — at singular plants and ani-
mals ; and at every thing, in short, with which we have
been before either little, or not at all acquainted ; and we
still wonder, though forewarned, of what we are to see.
We are surprised," he continues, " at those things which
we have seen often, but which we least of all expected to
meet with in the place where we find them ; we are sur-
prised at the sudden appearance of a friend, whom we
have seen a thousand times, but whom we did not imagine
that we were to see then."*
Some of my readers will be ready to imagine, it is pos-
^ble that the preceding distinction is perfectly accurate,
and that the point is established beyond controversy, that
surprise, and wonder, are radically different emotions.
And yet what does Dr. S. really prove more than that the
same emotion may appear under different modifications ;
and that the law of custom, which regulates the use of
words, directs us to employ the term Surprise, when ex-
hibiting one of its modifications, and Wonder, when point-
ing out another ? A certain quadruped is called a calf in
one stage of its existence, and a cow in another ; we can-
not, accordingly, use the terms convertibly ; so that, rea-
* Philosophical Essays, p. 2.
38
298 CLASS I. SURPRISE, &c*
soning on Dr. Smith's principles, we ought to believe that
the calf, and the cow, are totally different animals. The
circumstance which misled Dr. Smith is one, the influence
of which has been more than once adverted to, — he has
attended more to the acceptation of terms, than to what
takes place in the mind when we are said to feel surprise,
or wonder, or astonishment.
The statements of Dr. Brown, on this subject, are es-
pecially worthy of attention. " When new and striking
objects occur, or when familiar objects present themselyes
in unexpected situations, a certain emotion arises, to
which we give the name of surprise, or astonishment, or
wonder, but which, as an emotion, is the same, though
different names may be given with distinctive propriety, to
this one emotion — when combined, or not combined, with
a process of rapid intellectual inquiry, or with other feel-
ings of the same class. When the emotion rises simply,
it may be termed, and is more commonly termed, Sur-
prise ; — ^^when the surprise, thus excited by the unex-
pected occurrence, leads us to dwell upon the object
which excited it, and to consider in our «minds what
the circumstances may have been which have led to
the appearance of the object, the surprise is more
properly termed wonder, — which, as we may dwell up-
on the object long, and consider the possibilities of ma-
ny circumstances, that may have led to the unexpected in-
troduction of it, is, of course, more lasting than the instant
surprise which was only its first stage."*
The description given by this able writer of the circum-
stances in which the emotion of surprise, or wonder, arises,
leads me to remark upon another question suggested by
him ; viz, whether the same events which excite wonder
in us, produce the same emotions in the mind of an infant ;
for since every thing is new to an infant, those occurrences
which are very remarkable to us, are not more remarkable
to an infant, than common and every day events. Does
the feeling of surprise attend then, in the case of infants,
the perception of every object, and effect ? With Dr.
* Vol. III. p, 57.
LANGUOR.
299
Brown, I think not. The feeling of surprise is manifestly
inconsistent with a state of utter ignorance. It supposes,
in the circumstances in which it arises, the knowledge of
other circumstances which were expected to occur ; for
there must be unexpectedness, as well as novelty, in events,
or objects, which awaken surprise. Now as all expecta-
tion supposes previous experience, our knowledge of the
future being derived from the past, it follows that infants
who have no experience, cannot be the subjects of surprise.
The moralist cannot pass from the consideration of this
emotion, without noticing its importance to our safety and
happiness. ** It is in new circumstances that it is most
necessary for us to be upon our guard ; because, from their
novelty, we cannot be aware of the effects that attend
them, and require, therefore,* more than usual caution,
where foresight is impossible. But if new circumstances
had not produced feelings peculiarly vivid, little regard
might have been paid to them, and the evil, therefore,
might have been suffered, before alarm was felt. Against
this danger, nature has most providentially guarded us.
We cannot feel surprise without a more than ordinary in-
terest in the objects which may have excited this emotion,
and a consequent tendency to pause, till their properties
have become, in some degree, known to us. Our astonish-
ment may, therefore, be considered as a voice from that
Almighty goodness which constantly protects us, that, in
circumstances in which inattention might be perilous, whis-
pers, or almost crtes to us, Beware !"*
LANGUOR.
The term languor is used to designate that mental wea-
riness which all have felt, and, therefore, all understand,
that arises from " a long continuance of one unvaried ob-
ject, or from a succession of objects so nearly similar, as
scarcely to appear varied." Such is the constitution of
the mind, that objects originally pleasing, if forced upon
* Brown, Vol. III. p. 65.
300 CLASS 1. BEAUTY.
our view for a long period of time, gradually cease to in-
terest, and become at length actually painful ; while those
which were at first displeasing, are rendered more tiresome
and offensive by the same means.
In imparting to the human mind the susceptibility of
experiencing this emotion, the great Being who created
it, has supplied us with a powerful stimulus to that state
of action for which we are formed. The feeling of lan-
gour, of which we now speak, " is to the mind," says Dr.
Brown, " what the corresponding pain of hunger is to our
bodily health. It gives an additional excitement even to
the active ; and to far the greater number of mankind, it
is, perhaps, the only excitement which could rouse them,
from the sloth of ease, to those exertions, by which their
intellectual and moral powers are, in some degree at least,
more invigorated ; — or by which, notwithstanding all their
indifference to the welfare of others, they are forced to
become the unintentional benefactors of that society, to
which otherwise they might not have given the labours of
a single solitary exertion, or even of a single thought."*
BEAUTY.
On this subject, with reference to which so much has
been written, it will probably most contribute to the satis-
faction of the reader, to give an extended outline of the
views of one of our most distinguished writers, and to com-
pare with them the statements of others who have attained
great celebrity, endeavouring to hold the critical balance
with a steady and an impartial hand. For various reasons
I select the statements of Dr. Brown.
The term Beauty, according to this writer, denotes an
emotion, not a sensation. It is not the direct result, that
is, of the influence of* any thing external, upon an organ
of sense ; it is a feeling subsequent to the perception, or
conception, of the object termed beautiful ; and, in this
respect, is similar to the emotion of hope, or fear, which
'" Vol. III. p. 70.
STATEMENTS OF DR. BROWN. 301
does not arise in consequence of the possession of the sen-
sitive powers merely, but of a susceptibility of mind which
is enjoyed in addition to them. The bearing of this state-
ment, in which I entirely agree with Dr. Brown, on some
of the controverted points with reference to beauty, will
be afterward seen.
What we thus properly term, however, the emotion of
beauty, is not one feeling of our mind, but many feelings,
differing widely, as in the case of colours, among them-
selves, yet sufficiently analagous to justify us in compre-
hending them under the same general term.
The term Beauty necessarily denotes a pleasing emo-
tion ; for it is found, when analyzed, to be a modificatioli
of joy, one of the elementary feelings to which our emo-
tions are reducible. All objects which agree in exciting
this pleasing emotion, we denominate beautiful, and for
that reason ; as we call a certain substance sweet, which
produces the sensation of sweetness. Beauty, like sweet-
ness, is an affection of mind, knd of mind only. It cannot
exist in material objects. It is not an external entity ; and,
therefore, to inquire into a supposed common quality, to
which we give the name of beautiful, in the all but infi-
nite variety of objects which excite the emotion, is absurd.
The absurdity, however, has been committed; and by
some, beauty is said to be a waving line ; by others, a
combination of certain physical qualities, &c. ; as if, says
Dr. Brown, beauty were any thing in itself, and were not
merely a general name for all those pleasing emotions,
which forms, colours, sounds, motions, &c. produce.
This tendency of the mind to regard beauty as some ac-
tual and external essence, which is to be found in every
object that awakens the emotion, is accounted for by a
fact, to the establishment of which Dr. Brown devotes a
very considerable part of his discussion upon the subject ;
viz, the general tendency of the mind to transfer its feel-
ings to the objects which produce them. The delight
which the beautiful object yields we transfer to it, com-
bining it, at least partially, with our very conception of the
object as beautiful. When we come, indeed, to philoso-
302 CLASS I. BEAUTY.
phize on the subject, we should say, that external beauty
is simply that which excites a certain delightful emotion ;
but when the beautiful object is before us, and we feel its
influence, we then conceive it to contain in it the very de-
light which we feel ; we consider some permanent delight
as embodied in it, so that it would remain beautiful though
no eye were ever to behold it. A similar transfer takes place
with regard to odours and tastes, and especially colours.
What is fragrance or colour in a rose ? Nothing surely
resembling our sensations. We admit at once, when ques-
tioned on the subject, that they are only the unknown
causes of certain well-known sensations. Yet when the
sensations are actually experienced, we forget this; we
transfer what we feel to the rose ; we are apt then to sup-
pose that a charm, somewhat resembling our sensation of
fragrance, floats around the flower itself, and exists there
independently of our feeling. And with regard to colour
especially. Dr. Brown says it is impossible for us to look on
what we philosophically regard as the unknown causes of
our sensations, without blending with them the very sen-
sations which they awaken, and seeing, therefore, in them,
the very greenness and redness which are feelings of our
minds.
This tendency to spiritualize matter, by regarding it, at
least momentarily, as the subject of feelings which can
only exist in the mind, was noticed long ago by D'Alem-
bert. " The bias," says he " we acquire in consequence
of habits contracted in infancy, to refer to a substance ma-
terial and divisible, what really belongs to a substance spi-
ritual and simple, is a thing well worthy of the attention of
metaphysicians. Nothing," he adds, " is perhaps more
extraordinary, in the operations of mind, than to see it
transport its sensations out of itself, and to spread them, as
it were, over a substance to which they cannot possibly be-
long." '' It would be difficult," says Mr. Stewart, when
quoting these words, " to state the fact in terms more
brief, precise, and perspicuous." I subscribe to this judg-
ment of Mr. Stewart, but not to the opinion of D'Alem-
bert, that the fact in question is most wonderful. Nothing,
41
STATEMENl'S OP DR. BROWN. 303
on the contrary, appears to me more natural than to re-
gard the cause, as bearing some resemblance to the effect ;
and the transference of colour to external objects, is only
a particular manifestation of this natural tendency.
" Now," says Dr. Brown, " if this be the case with re-
ference to smells, tastes, and colours, I trust it will not
appear too bold an assertion to say that the agreeable
emotions which certain objects excite in us, are capable of
being, in our conceptions, combined with the very notion
of the objects themselves ; and that we term such objects
beautiful, by combining, in our notions of them, the delight
which we feel, as we term them green, blue, crimson,
by combining with them, our feelings of colour. A beau-
tiful object, as felt by us, is an object on which we have
diffused the delightful feeling of our own mind. Though
no eye were to behold what is beautiful, we cannot but
imagine that a certain delight would for ever be flowing
around it ; as we cannot but imagine, in like manner, that
the loveliest flower of the wilderness, which buds and wi-
thers unmarked, is blooming with the same delightful hues,
which our vision would give to it, — and surrounded with
that sweetness of fragrance,* which, in itself, is but a. num-
ber of exhaled particles, that are sweetness only in the
sentient mind."
Thus beauty, according to Dr. Brown, is an emotion
that is pleasing, and it is an emotion which we diffuse and
combine with our conception of the object that may have
excited it ; and these two circumstances, he adds — " the
pleasing nature of the emotion itself, and the identification
of it with the object that excites it, — are the only circum-
stances that are essential to it in all its varieties."
The transference, however, of this pleasing emotion to
the object, implies its previous existence ; and the recollec-
tion of this self-evident truth suggests the important inqui-
ries. How does it come to pass, that certain objects only
excite this pleasing emotion, and from whence do they de-
rive their power to produce it?
These questions, or rather this question, for we have here
in reality only one question, has greatly divided the philo-
sophical world ; some maintaining, on the one hand, that
304 CLASS I. BEAUTY.
many objects have primarily and absolutely the power oi'
awakening the emotion of beauty ; while others contend,
on the other hand, that they derive it exclusively from as-
sociation.
Dr. Brown, and Mr. Payne Knight, arrange themselves
in the former class. They both appeal to the fact — for I
am disposed to concede that it is a fact — that there are cer-
tain colours, and certain distributions of colours, which seem
naturally to delight the child and the savage ; and the for-
mer seems to imagine, without sufficient reason as it ap-
pears to me, that the smile of the mother, like the cry of the
parent hen, calling her brood to feast upon the discovered
corn, may be an instinctive sign of pleasure, of which a
delightful emotion may be the immediate consequence.
Those who have more knowledge of children than it is pro-
bable Dr. Brown possessed, will scarcely be able to per-
suade themselves, that infants are able to unlock the mean-
ing of a smile, or a frown, till experience has supplied them
with the key.
The Rev. Mr. Alison, on the other hand, and Mr. Jeffrey,
editor of the Edinburgh Review,* resolve the beauty of all
external objects into association, or suggestion. With cer-
tain objects, certain agreeable feelings — feelings received
by means of some of the ordinary susceptibilities of the mind
. — have co-existed; the perception, or conception of these
objects will, by the ordinary laws of suggestion, recall these
feelings. In the opinion, therefore, of both these writers,
beauty is not an inherent property, or quahty, or external
objects ; it does not depend upon any particular configu-
ration of their parts, or proportions, or colours ; but it is
the power they possess of recalling those agreeable feelings
" of which they have been the accompaniments, or with
which they have been associated in our imagination, by
any other more casual bond of connexion."
There is, however, a considerable difference of opinion
between these writers on one point of importance. Mr.
Alison, to account for the vividness of the emotion of
beauty, seems to think it necessary to suppose, that the
* Fide article Beauty^ Supplement to the Encyc. Brit.
THE RESULT OF ASSOCIATION. 305
beautiful object suggests a long train of pleasing images,
each contributing its own share to the enjoyment, and pro-
ducing altogether a large amount of delight. Mr. Jeffrey
admits that such a train of thought may arise, but main-
tains that it is not necessary to the perception of beauty,
which, he says, " is in most cases instantaneous, and as
immediate as the perception of the external qualities of
the object to which it is ascribed." If the appeal be made
to experience, there can be little doubt that Mr. Alison
will be found to be in error here. The emotion of beauty
does not gradually rise in vividness, as Mr. Alison repre-
sents. There is not the pouring in of one little streamlet
of joy after another, but the tide of delight is at once full.
And it is a correct, and an important remark, that " the
more intense the feehng of beauty is, the less is the ten-
dency of the mind to pass from the delightful object which
fills the heart, as it fills the eyes, to images of distant
analogy."
The preceding statements tend to show the fallacy of
the following objection against the general views of Messrs.
Alison and Jeffrey. " Any theory respecting the beautiful
which professes to explain our agreeable impressions by the
principle of association alone, must be radically erroneous.
It involves," as Mr. Stewart has justly and acutely remark-
ed, " a manifest absurdity. Unless some perceptions be
supposed which are originally pleasing, there is nothing
on which the associating principle can act. There can ba
no accumulation without a capital."* If, with the above
passage, be compared the following statement of Dr.
Brown, in which he describes, with singular felicity the
manner in which association may become the source of
beauty, the reader will be at no loss to see that, on this sub-
ject at least, there may be accumulation without capital —
or that agreeable feelings may become associated with ob-
jects which yield no direct pleasure. " The perception of
an object (i, e. any object) has originally co-existed with a
certain pleasure, — a pleasure which, perhaps, may have
* Vidt Christian Observer, 1812.
39
306 CLASS I. BEAUTY
frequently recurred together with the perception, — and
which thus forms with it in the mind one complex feeling,*
that is instantly recalled by the mere perception of the ob-
ject, in its subsequent recurrences. With this complex
state, so recalled, other accidental pleasures may after-
ward co-exist in like manner, and form a more complex
delight ; but a delight which is still, when felt, one mo-
mentary state of mind, capable of being instantly recalled
by the perception of the object, as much as the simpler
delight in the earlier stage. The embellishing influence of
association may thus be progressive in various stages ; be-
cause new accessions of pleasure are continually rendering
more complex the delight that is afterward to be suggest-
ed ; but that which is suggested in the latter stages, though
the result of a progress, is, in itself, in each subsequent
perception of the object which it embellishes, immediate.
We spread the charm over the object with the same rapi-
dity with which we spread over it the colours which it
seems to beam upon us.t" He states, also, that " this plea-
sure may be recalled, not only by the object with which it
originally co-existed, but by an object similar, and analo-
gous to it ; which thus, even when we first gaze upon it ;
may appear to have a sort of original loveliness, which, but
for the rapid and unperceived suggestion, it would not have
possessed. One degree of beauty is thus acquired by every
object similar to that which has been a source to us of any
primary pleasure."
In attempting to guide the reader, in his eflforts to ascer-
tain where the truth lies, amidst these conflicting state-
ments, 1 would request him to notice.
First, the exceedingly narrow basis on which Dr. Brown
builds his doctrine of the original beauty of material ob-
jects. That basis, as we have seen, is the fact that certain
colours, and sounds, seem naturally more agreeable to
children, and savages, than others. This is the exclusive
basis ; for the statement which seems to give, though with
great hesitation, native beauty to the mother's smile, I
* Fide ip. 31. t Vol. III. p. 168, 9.
OF MATERIAL OBJECTS NOT ORIGINAL. 307
must be permitted, with all deference to Dr. Brown, to
throw out of the question. Mr. Jeffrey seems to doubt
the correctness of the statements of Dr. Brown ; with lit-
tle reason, however, I apprehended. I concede at once
the alleged fact, that some colours delight infants and sa-
vages, who, in this respect are infants, more than others ;
but Dr. Brown has to prove that this delight is the emotion
of beauty, and not a mere pleasure of sense. It is not
probable that all colours, any more than all odours, yield
naturally the same measure of sensitive enjoyment. The
sensation of blackness, may not be equally grateful with
the sensation of redness. Children may, accordingly, and
I apprehend actually do, prefer colours glaring and strong,
merely because they stimulate more powerfully, and'so are,
as mere sensations, more pleasing than others. The foun-
dation, therefore, on which Dr Brown erects his argument,
must be held to be not merely narrow, but insecure, till he
has proved that the delight of children, &c. is not mere
sensitive delight. He attempts to show that this cannot
be the case, inasmuch as the sensitive feelings are now, as
he alledges, what they are in infancy ; while the colours,
and dispositions of colours, which delight the child, are
not those which delight us. But why must they be the
same now as they were in infancy ? We should little have
expected this assertion from a writer who maintains, that
it is in the power of habit, not merely to modify original
sensations, but absolutely to reverse them — to render that
pleasant which was originally disagreeable.* Besides, he
forgets the obvious fact, that to us association has embel-
lished some colours more than others ; so that, without
supposing any modification of the original sensation, this
embellishment may turn the scale in favour of those colours
which, as the mere sources of sensitive delight, are less
valuable than others.
There is, on this point, considerable difference of opin-
ion between Dr. Brown and Mr. Payne Knight. They
agree in thinking that colours, and sounds, yield naturally
* Vol. III. p. 139,
308 CLASS I. BEAUTY
more pleasure than others. The latter, however, con-
ceives that this pleasure is a sensation ; so that, according
to his statements, our original and natural emotions of
beauty, are of the same order of feelings with the fragrance
of a rose, or the flavour of a peach. Dr. Brown, as we
have seen, denies this. They are not, he thinks, external
but internal affections ; not sensations, but emotions ;
which may succeed sensations, or not, he says, according
to circumstances. The difficulties which both opinions
have to encounter, will be more fully considered after-
ward.
Secondly, I would request the reader to consider the
comparatively small number of our emotions of beauty
which are considered, either by Dr. Brown, or Mr. Payne
Knight, as resulting from an original tendency of mind to
this feeling. Dr. Brown expressly says, " it is only a small
part of this order of emotions, which we can ascribe to such
a source, and these, as I conceive, of very humble value,
in relation to other more important emotions of this order,
which are truly the production of associations of various
kinds.""* Mr. Payne Knight, also, agrees with Mr. Alison
in holding the most important, and, indeed, the only consi-
derable part of beauty, to depend upon association, and
has illustrated this opinion with a great variety of just and
original observations.
These concessions enable us to decide upon the correct-
ness of Dr. Brown's assertion, that the burden of proof does
not rest with the believers, but with the deniers of original
beauty — an assertion that appears to me at variance with
the whole spirit of his philosophy, which teaches us not to
multiply powers unnecessarily. Admitting, as he does, that
most of our emotions of beauty are the result of associa-
tion, it follows that he ought not to call in the aid of an
original susceptibility to account for any, unless he is able
to show that they cannot spring from association. Neces-
sity only, on his principles, will justify the supposition of
original emotions of beauty ; i. e. the onus probandi rests
upon the believers in original beauty. The system of Dr.
* Vol. III. pp. 143, 4.
OF MATERIAL OBJECTS NOT ORIGINAL. 309
Brown, by maintaining that the superior delights which
some colours afford children, is not a sensation, but an emo-
tion of beauty, appears to me entangled in a difficulty,
which does not encumber the statements of Mr. Payne
Knight. And emotion, according to the system of Dr.
Brown, is a feeling sui generis — of a totally different or-
der from a sensation. An original emotion of beauty dif-
fers, then, generically from a sensation ; but an emotion
of beauty, the result of association, may be nothing more
than a reflected, or a recalled sensation — the revival, though
in a fainter degree, of a former sensitive affection ; so that
our emotions of beauty may comprehend two distinct
classes of feelings.
Thirdly, I would call the attention of the reader to the
inquiry, whether original emotions of beauty do not neces-
sarily suppose that some distinct quality, to which we may
give the name of beauty, exists in external objects. This, as
we have seen^ is denied by Dr. Brown. Beauty is not, he
says, any thing which exists in objects, and permanent,
therefore, as the objects in which it is falsely supposed to
exist. Now, if all beauty be the result of association, the
truth of these statements is apparent. But, if there be ob-
jects, as he maintains, which excite originally, without any
previous association, the emotions of beauty, I do not see
how the consistency of these statements can be maintained.
Doubtless there is no beauty like what we feel, and transfer,
in the objects which awaken the emotion, as there is no-
thing in the rose, which resembles our sensations of fra-
grance, and of sight. But as the delightful feeling of beauty
must be excited, before it can be reflected upon the object,
and as that feeling cannot be excited without a cause, it
seems to follow, as a necessary consequence, either that
the beautiful object must have some permanent quality
which awakens the emotion, or that it must derive its power
to excite it from association. Our sensations of smell, taste,
colour, tfec. would not exist, if there were no cause of the
feeling in external objects, though we know not what that
cause is. In like manner, the emotions of beauty, which
Dr. Brown, considers original, could not arise without a
310 CLASS I. BEAUTY
cause. And if. there be a cause of the emotions in exter
nal objects — a cause which cannot be ascribed to associa-
tion — that cause is beauty in the objects, as the cause of
fragrance in a rose, is the fragrance of the rose. If there
be original emotions of beauty, then, as it appears to me,
external objects must have native beauty.
Fourthly, I would request the reader to observe the
difficulties with which the notion of original emotions of
beauty is embarrassed. How is it possible to reconcile,
with this notion, the various, and even opposite, tastes of
men ? Our sensitive feelings are natural, and hence they
are generally uniform. What is sweet, bitter, tasteless,
red, scarlet or black, to one man, is so to another ; and
yet though we have, as it is contended, original emotions
of beauty, there is amongst diiferent individuals, great di-
versity, and even direct contrariety here. Where one
sees-Jbeauty, another sees none, — nay, recognises, it may
be, hideous deformity. A Chinese lover would see no at-
tractions in a belle of London, or Paris ; and a Bond-
street exquisite would discover nothing but deformity in
the Venus of the Hottentots. " A little distance in time
produces the same effects, as distance in place ; — the gar-
dens, the furniture, the dress, which appeared beautiful in
the eyes of our grandfathers, are odious and ridiculous in
ours. Nay, the difference of rank, education, or employ-
ments, gives rise to the same difference of sensation. The
little shopkeeper sees a beauty in his road-side box, and in
the staring tile roof, wooden lions, and clipped box-
wood, which strike horror into the soul of the student of
the picturesque, — while he is transported in surveying the
fragments of ancient sculpture, which are nothing but
ugly masses of mouldering stones in the judgment of the
admirer of neatness."*
If our emotions of beauty are the result of association,
all this is easily explained ; but if even only a small por-
tion of their number is the result of an original power, or
susceptibility, how is the fact to be accounted for ? And,
if we are to suppose, with Mr. Payne Knight, that original
* Sapplement to Encyclopaedia Britannica— article Beauhi, p. 173.
OF MATERIAL OBJECTS NOT ORIGINAL. 311
emotions of beauty are in fact sensitive affections, the
difficulty of explaining it abundantly increases. How
does it happen that these particular sensations are suscep-
tible of a change, which no other sensations undergo ?
What other organic feelings are so frequently reversed, or
obliterated ? And more especially, what other organic
feeling is so powerfully affected by the principle of sug-
gestion ? When did association change the taste of a
peach, or the colour of a rose ? The difficulty which
thus presses upon the doctrine of original beauty, Dr.
Brown endeavours to obviate, by stating, as we have seen,
that beauty is not a sensation, but an emotion. He admits
that, if it were the result of our organic powers, or even
of an internal sense, which, like our other senses, must
force upon the mind, constantly, or almost constantly, a
particular feeling, when a particular object is present,
there would not be this amazing diversity in the feelings
of beauty. But emotions, he says, are capable of being
modified to a much greater extent than sensations. He
refers particularly to the emotion of Desire, in illustration
and confirmation of his sentiments. No one, he argues,
will contend that all objects are naturally equally desi-
rable — or rather, that there are none which, prior to all
pleasing associations, awaken the feeling of desire ; and
yet circumstances may vanquish, and even invert this
tendency. " In all ages," he continues, " the race of
mankind are born with certain susceptibilities, which, if
circumstances were not different, would lead them, as one
great multitude, to form very nearly the same wishes ; but
the difference of circumstances produces a corresponding
diversity of passions, that scarcely seems to flow from the
same source. In like manner, the race of mankind, con-
sidered as 'a great multitude, might be, in all ages, en-
dowed with the same susceptibilities of the emotion of
beauty, which would lead them, upon the whole, to find
the same pleasure in the contemplation of the same ob-
jects ; — if different circumstances did not produce views
of utility, and associations of various sorts, that diversify
the emotion itself."*
* Vol. III. p. 127,
312 CLASS I. — BEAUTY
I cannot fully reply to this statement now, because it
involves what I cannot but consider a mistake with respect
to the feeling called Desire, into which I must not at pre-
sent enter. It manifestly supposes that there are objects
which originally, and, as it were, instinctively — without any
previous conception of them as good — awaken the feeling
of desire, or there would not be a fair parallel between
them, and original emotions of beauty. This doctrine,
with respect to desire, I do not admit. But at present, all
I can say in reply to this statement of Dr. Brown is, that
there is not, by any means, the same diversity in the de-
sires, as in the tastes of men. The former may be account-
ed for by the influence of modifying circumstances ; it
does not appear to me that the latter can.
Fifthly^ I would request the reader to observe how easily
our emotions of beauty received from external objects,
may be shown to arise from association. " A young and
beautiful countenance charms us, and we are apt to ima-
gine, that the forms and colours which it displays, would
produce the same effect upon us, independently of associa-
tion. It is manifest, however, that what we admire is not
a combination of forms and colours, which could never ex-
cite any mental emotion ; but a collection of signs and to-
kens of certain mental feelings and affections, which are
universally recognized as the proper objects of love and
sympathy. It is the youth, and health, and innocence, and
gayety, and sensibili ty, and delicacy, and vivacity, indica-
ted by these signs, that awaken the emotion of beauty ; and
had they been indicative of opposite qualities,— had the
smile that now enchants us, been attached by nature to
guilt and malignity— or the blush which expresses delica-
cy, been miited with brutal passions, — it cannot be doubted,
that our emotions would be exactly the reverse of what
they are. Mr. Knight himself thinks it entirely owing to
these associations, that we prefer the tame smoothness,
and comparatively poor colours of a youthful face, to the
richly fretted and variegated countenance of a ^pimpled
drunkard."*
* Article Beauty^ p. 182.
I
THE RESULT OF ASSOCIATION. 313
The same writer proceeds to show in what manner as-
sociation gives beauty to inanimate objects. A common
English landscape is beautiful ; but its beauty consists in
the picture of human happiness that is presented to our ima-
gination and affections — in the visible and cheerful signs of
comfort and contented and peaceful enjoyment. Spring
is beautiful ; it is associated with the hope of approaching
abundance. Autumn is beautiful ; it is the season when
this abundance appears in a state of maturity. The blue
sky, by day, is beautiful ; it is associated with all the com-
forts of fine weather ; an d hence the sky, in the evening
twilight, though of a different colour, is equally beautiful.
Bodies divested of corners and angles, are generally more
beautiful than others : Who can doubt that their beauty
is derived from association with pleasant sensations of
touch ?
The reader, who has opportunity, cannot fail to be ex-
ceedingly delighted to travel with Mr. Jeffrey through the
whole of his illustrations ; I cannot even advert to them.
There is, however, one statement in support of his general
doctrine concerning beauty, derived from the structure of
language, which I must quote for the benefit of those who
may not have access to the work in which it is contained.
" It is very remarkable, that while almost all the words by
which the affections of mind are expressed, seem to have
been borrowed originally from the qualities of matter, the
epithets by which we learn afteward to distinguish such
material objects as are felt to be sublime or beautiful, are
all of them epithets that had been previously appropriated
to express some quality or emotion of mind. Colours are
said to be gay or grave ; motions to be lively, or delibe-
rate, or capricious ; forms to be delicate or modest ; sounds
to be animated or mournful ; prospects to be cheerful or
melancholy ; rocks to be bold, waters to be tranquil, and
a thousand other phrases of the same import ; all indi-
cating, most unequivocally, the sources from which our in-
terest in matter is derived, and proving that it is necessary,
in all cases, to confer mind and feeling upon it, before it
40
314 CLASS I. BEAUTY
can be conceived as either sublime, or beautiful."* Beautj
is not then a quality in external objects, but the reflection
of emotions, excited by the feelings, or condition of sen-
tient beings.
But if all our emotions of beauty, derived from externa!
objects, are the result of association, how does it happen,
it will perhaps be inquired, that there should be so remark-
able a degree of uniformity of taste among well-educated
men ? Considering the various circumstances in which
they are placed, the point of difficulty, it may be said, is to
account not for diversity, but partial similarity and iden-
tity, in their emotions of beauty. The following answer
to the question is given by Dr. Brown^ " The term Beauty
is a general term ; it is applied to all those objects which
are adapted to produce the same general emotion^ And
in our inquiries what are the objects which possess this
adaptation, we observe not merely what gives delight to
ourselves, but what gives delight also to the greater num-
ber of the cultivated minds around us ; and what might
be capricious in one mind, is thus tempered by the
result of more general associations in the many. In
this manner we form a general standard of beauty — a re-
lative notion of fitness to excite a certain amount of de-
light — which seems to be for ever in our mind to direct us,
according to which, we fix at some precise degree the
varying beauty of the moment."!
The preceding statement illustrates very admirably the
manner in which a high degree of critical taste is acquired,
understanding by the word taste here, an intellectual per-
ception, rather than a feeling ; but it does not appear to
me to throw any light upon the question, " how it happens
that all men, though placed in infinitely diversified circum-
stances, should experience emotions of beauty from the
same objects ?" The true answer seems to be, that though
there are associations peculiar to the man, there are also
associations common to the species. It is not one man
who associates the pleasures of fine weather with the blue
* P. 108. t Pp. 169, 70.
THE RESULT OF ASSOCIATION. 315
appearance of the sky ; all men do it. The sky, accord-
ingly, is not beautiful to one, but to all men.
Finally, the scheme which resolves all external beauty
into association or suggestion, is recommended by several
important considerations, at which I shall briefly glance.
It will explain, I conceive, all the phaenomena of beauty.
Dr. Brown does not specify a single instance of the emo-
tion which he will venture to say cannot be ascribed to the
suggesting principle. The amount of this statement is,
that there are some which may arise from an original ten-
dency of mind ; or, at the utmost, which do thus arise.
It effectually prevents the necessity of inquiring con-
cerning the quality, in external objects, which excites the
emotion — an inquiry which, in consequence of the infinite
diversity of objects by which the emotion is produced,
would throw us into interminable difficulties. Dr. Brown's
system, as we have seen, does not prevent this necessity.
If there be original emotions of beauty, there must be
something in the objects by which the emotion is awaken-
ed, to produce it ; or why do not all objects excite it ?
The question then naturally and necessarily arises, " What
is that something ? — or, in other words. What is Beauty ?
But if association be the source of beauty, all external ob-
jects are beautiful, with which interesting associations have
been formed ; and their power to awaken that pleasurea-
ble feeling which constitutes the emotion, is their beauty.
It gets rid of all the mystery which has been thrown
over the subject, by the supposition of a peculiar sense or
faculty given us for the express purpose of perceiving
beauty ; and shows us that what is called the faculty of
taste, is either the knowledge, gathered from observation
and experience, of what will produce generally the emo-
tions of beauty ; or the power of deriving pleasure from
certain objects, with which interesting associations have
been formed by those who are regarded as the most po-
lished and refined of our species — a power which is gained
by subjecting the mind to that discipline, which will lead to
the formation of similar associations.
316 CLASS I. SUBLIMITY
SUBLIMITY.
Sublimity, considered as a feeling of the mind, admits
not of definition ; regarded as existing in the external ob-
ject, it is that which fits it to awaken the emotion ; a
sublime object is one which produces the impression of
sublimity.
As it has been observed in relation to beauty, there can
be nothing resembling our emotion of sublimity, in the
outward and material object by which it is awakened.
Yet, as in the case of beauty and of colour, the feeling
may be transported out of the mind, and embodied in the
object, " which, accordingly, seems to bear about with it
that awful sublimity which exists nowhere but in our own
consciousness."
By most writers on this subject, sublimity has been re-
presented not merely as something radically different from
beauty, but actually opposed to it. This sentiment has to
encounter the high authority of Messrs. Jeffrey, and Stew-
art, and Dr. Brown. The latter tells us that the kindred
emotions of beauty and sublimity, shadow into one an-
other — that they are merely different parts of a series of
emotions, gradually rising from the faintest beauty to the
vastest sublimity. To the lower part of this series we
give the name of Beauty, — to the higher, the name of
Sublimity, — and to the intermediate class, we might, he
thinks, give that of Grandeur: — and, having thus de-
nominated them, we are, he says, apt to imagine that we
have three classes of emotions, widely differing from each
other, through the invention of the terms to which we
have referred, cannot manifestly alter the nature of the
feelings they are employed to designate.
I have more doubt of the justness of the conclusion
than of the premises here. The prismatic colours shade
into one another, so that it is impossible to say where one
terminates and another commences ; but does it follow
from hence that red, orange, green, blue, &c. are radically
the same ? In hke manner, the sensation of genial warmth
IS NOT IN MATERIAL OBJECTS. 317
gradually rises, it may be, into that of intolerable heat ; but
should we be safe in concluding, from this circumstance,
that there is no difference between pleasure and pain ?
There is, also, another consideration which serves to
throw some doubt over this opinion of Dr. Brown. If
there is no difference between the emotions of beauty and
sublimity — if the latter are to be regarded as the former,
in the superlative degree — it would seem to follow as a
necessary consequence, that an abatement of sublimity
would bring us down, so to speak, to beauty. This is,
however, contrary to fact, according to the statements of
Dr. Brown himself. " So far is it," he says, '' from being
indispensible to sublimity, that beauty should be the
characteristic of the same circumstance, in a less degree,
that, in many instances, what is absolutely the reverse of
beautiful, becomes sublime, by the exclusion of every
thing that could excite of itself that delightful but gentle
emotion. A slight degree of barren dreariness in any
country through which we pass, produces only feelings that
are disagreeable ; a wide extent of desolation, when the
eye can see no verdure as far as it can reach, but only
rocks that rise at irregular intervals, through the sandy
waste, has a sort of savage sublimity, which we almost
delight to contemplate."*
That Dr. Brown has correctly and beautifully stated the
fact, there is no doubt ; but how does it harmonize with
his statement, that sublimity is a class of feelings not es-
sentially different from beauty ? There appears, at least,
to be an incongruity almost as great, between the two
passages, as if it should be said that the way to render a
man perfect in benevolence, is to strip him of every de-
gree of kindness. If there be no radical difference be-
tween beauty and sublimity, there can be no sublimity
without beauty, as there cannot be the superlative whitest,
without the quality of whiteness itself; in some cases,
however, he says, the emotion of beauty does not inter-
mingle with the compound feeling of sublimity. It is
more difficult, also, to maintain Dr. Brown's consistency,
* Pp. 185, 6.
318 CLASS I. SUBLIMITY
because he does not admit that the emotion of subUmity,
in the case referred to, is the result of association. Those
who trace it to this latter source, find no difficulty in ac-
counting for the fact. A wide extent of desolation sug-
gests, either directly, or by analogy, the notion of vast
power, which a slight degree of barrenness would not ;
hence its sublimity.
As in the case of beauty. Dr. Brown maintains, that
many external objects excite, independently of associa-
tion, the emotions of sublimity. " We must not sup-
pose," he says, " that, but for the accident of some men-
tal association, the immensity of space would be con-
sidered by us with the same indifference as a single atom,
— or the whole tempest of surges, in the seemingly bound-
less world of waters, with as little emotion as the shallow
pool, that may chance to be dimpling before our eyes."
This opinion concerning original emotions of sublimity,
is held in connexion with the assertion, that there is no
sublimity in objects ; — an error, as it appears to me at
least, similar to that which was noticed with reference to
beauty, and the influence of which may be traced in
several parts of Dr. Brown's philosophy. I notice it
more fully than I should have done, on that account. If
by denying sublimity to those objects which awaken the
emotion without the aid of association. Dr. Brown means
no more than that nothing resembling our feeling is to be
found in them, he is doubtless right ; but in that case he
sets himself to deny what no one has ever thought of
maintaining. If he intends to affirm, that the objects, by
which the emotion is excited, contain nothing in them to
awaken it, he contradicts his own affirmation, that the
feeling of sublimity cannot arise without a cause. If he
admits that the objects in question contain some property,
or quality, not possessed by others, from which the emo-
tion results, then that property is sublimity in them ; as
colour in an orange is that unknown property from whence
results the sensation. If Dr. Brown held that the emo-
tion of sublimity is the result of association, he might
consistently deny sublimity to things external. In that
THE RESULT OF ASSOCIATION. 319
case, It would be perfectly correct to say that it is the
mind which gives them their subhmity. But, on his sys-
tem, even if we grant that, at a second stage of the
business, the mind transfers something to the object, it is
beyond all question that, in the first stage, the object
transfers something to the mind — the object must give the
mind sublimity, before the mind can give sublimity to the
object. And if some objects only give sublimity to the
mind, it surely is not an unnecessary, much less an absurd
inquiry, " What are these objects ?" or, " What is the
quality in them by which the emotion is produced?"
Would Dr. Brown say, that to inquire into the cause of
colour in bodies, however profitless such inquiry might be,
would be to renew all the absurdities of the a parte rei ?
Why then should any speculation concerning beauty or
sublimity in objects, be thus characterised, if there be
something in objects which fits them to awaken the emo-
tions of beauty and sublimity ?
With Messrs. Alison and Jeffrey, I regard the feeling of
sublimity, when excited by material objects, as the result
of association. Nothing can be more sublime than the
sound of thunder. We mistake the rumbling of a cart,
at a distance, for thunder. The nicest ear cannot detect
any difference between the two sounds ; they are equally
sublime, till we learn that we have been mistaken in the
cause of the latter sound ; all feeling of sublimity
vanishes with the information. " What is it," says Mr.
Alison, " that constitutes that emotion of sublime delight,
which every man of common sensibility feels upon the
first prospect of Rome ?" — " It is ancient Rome which
fills his imagination. It is the country of Caesar, and
Cicero, and Virgil, which is before him. It is the mistress
of the world which he sees, and who seems to him to rise
again from her tomb, to give laws to the universe." —
" Take from him these associations, conceal from him
that it is Rome that he sees, and how different would be
his emotions !"
I agree with Dr. Brown, that the quality or property, on
the presence of which the emotions of sublimity arise, is
32(1 CLASS I. .SUBLIMITY
vastness ; but the question is, " Do the emotions directly
flow from the perception of this quality, as the sensation of
fragrance is the direct result of the contact of certain par-
ticles, and the olfactory nerve, — or are they excited through
the medium of those conceptions of power, or wisdom,
which the view of the quality suggests? I cannot but re-
gard the last member of the preceding question as exhibit-
ing the real fact of the case. If any thing stupendous in
the material world could be contemplated without suggest-
ing the notion of greatness of power, or wisdom, it would
possess, I imagine, no sublimity. Mountains piled upon
mountains, precipices overhanging precipices — the torrent
rushing over the verge of the rock worn smooth by its con-
stant action, and thundering as it plunges into the abyss
below — and the hurricane, annihilating the beauty over
which it sweeps, and enabling us to track its course by the
desolation which it leaves behind it, owe their grandeur to
a Hvely conception of the energy of that power which called
them into being, and which urges them foward in their
impetuous and resistless career. Hence the rumbling of a
cart loses its sublimity, when it ceases to be mistaken for
thunder. Our knowledge of the cause of the sound, breaks
the association between it, and the conception of power
which it had awakened, and accordingly it is sublime no
longer.
It is, then, we think, the conception of power and wis-
dom, however the conception may be introduced into the
mind, that awkens the emotion of sublimity. Whatever,
therefore, " is vast in the material world — whatever is su-
premely comprehensive in intellect — whatever in morals
implies virtuous affections, or passions, far removed be-
yond the ordinary level of humanity, or even guilt itself,
that is ennobled, in some measure, by the fearlessness of its
darings, or the magnitude of the ends to which it has had
the boldness to aspire — these, and various other objects, in
matter and mind, produce the vivid feelings of sublimity."
On this account, the words of inspiration, so frequently ap-
pealed to, exhibiting this universe rising into being, at the
creating fiat, are sublime in the highest degree. The
niE RESULT OF ASSOCIATJON, 321
conduct of the soldier, referred to by Dr. Brown, who,
during a famine, shared, for a long period of time, his
scanty allowance with his comrade, whose enmity he had
formerly experienced, exhibits ffreat virtue ; the action,
accordingly, is not heroic merely, it is sublime. The act of
our Redeemer, in giving himself for us, when we were
enemies, ungodly, <Slc., is hence, also encircled with a
splendour of moral sublimity, which eclipses all inferior
excellence ; it exhibits an amplitude and vastness of moral
virtue, exalted above all rivalship. How, then, does it
happen, we may well ask, that while the devotion of Le-
onidas and his Spartans is never referred to, by men of re-
finement, without a warm tribute of praise, the sublime
sacrifice of the Son of God, though, as a mere matter of
taste, it ought to win for itself unparalleled admiration,
extorts from them but too frequently not a single word of
approbation !
There is, then, we think, no sublimity in external things.
There is not only nothing in them which resembles the
emotion we experience ; but there is no permanent qua-
lity in them which can be said to be the unknown cause of
the mental feeling. Sublimity is not in them, even as fra-
grance is in the rose ; for the rose actually possesses that,
from whence the sensation of fragrance directly results •,
whereas, the cause of our emotions of sublimity, is some-
thing which our imaginations have spread over external ob-
jects — certain affecting conceptions of power, or wisdom,
in which we, so to speak, have arrayed them. Divest
them of this covering, and of the unity which the mind
only gives to them,* and they will appear " a multitude of
separate and independent atoms, and nothing more."
If vastness, or any kindred property, which may suggest
the notion of power, be that with which the emotion of
sublimity is connected, we see the reason of two or three
facts referred to by Dr. Brown, and which are, on his sys-
tem, difficult to explain. Beauty is sometimes, he states,
an ingredient in sublimity ; at others, it is not so, though
*P.30.
41
322 CLASS I. DEFORMITY, &C.
the two feelings are not, he thinks, essentially distniet
from each other. The feeling of sublimity, is also, he
adds, occasionally more akin to terror than to beauty.
AH this is perfectly consistent with the preceding state-
ments. A lofty mountain, for instance, may be sublime
from its magnitude, and beautiful from its form and con-
tour ; or its outline may be rugged, and unsightly. Could
we shut out all apprehension of danger, what could be
more beautiful than a vivid flash of lightning, in the still-
ness of the night, lifting for a moment the veil of darkness,
and disclosing all the loveliness which it conceals ? It is
associated, however, with the notion of great power —
power which may become the source of mischief, yea, of
destruction to us ; hence it is rather sublime than beauti-
ful, and in certain states of mind, more terrible than either ;
?'. e. it awakens only conceptions of danger, though, in
other circumstances, it might have led to the notion of
power, or recalled those feelings of pleasure in which the
emotions of beauty consist.
All objects, then, derive their beauty and sublimity from
association. The associated feelings, however, which con-
fer upon them this adornment, are different ; a circum-
stance which w ould appear to intimate, (for I speak with
hesitation and diffidence on this point,) that the emotions
of beauty and sublimity differ from each other,
DEFORMITY AND LUDICROUSNESS.
The opposite emotion to beauty is deformity ; while lu-
dicrousness stands in contrast with sublimity. A few words
will comprise all that it is necessary to say with regard to
these emotions. Ludicrousness is that light mirth we feel
on the unexpected perception of a strange mixture of con-
gruity and incongruity. The congruity or incongruity,
from which the emotion results, may exist in the language
merely ; as in the case of puns, where there is an agree-
ment of sound, and a disagreement of sense; — or in the
thoughts and images which language expresses ; as when
it brings to light some unexpected resemblances of objects
MORAL APPrxOBATION AND DlSAPPROBATIOiV. 32e^
or qualities, formerly regarded as incongruous — or some
equally unexpected diversity among those in which the re-
semblance had been supposed before to be complete ; or,
in many cases, in the very objects of our direct perception ;
as when any well-dressed person, walking along the street,
falls into the mud of some splashy gutter ; in this case, the
situation and the dirt, combined with the character and ap-
pearance of the unfortunate stumbler, form a sort of natural
burlesque, or mock heroic, in which there is a mixture of
the noble and the mean, as in any of the works of art to
which those names are given.
Dr. Brown considers this emotion as a complex state of
mind, containing the following elements : — a combination
of astonishment, resulting from the unexpectedness of the
congruity or incongruity that is perceived ; and a vivid
feeling of delight, one of the forms of that joy or gladness
which constitutes one of the elementary emotions.
MORAL APPROBATION AND DISAPPROBATION.
The emotions we now proceed to consider arise in the
mind on the contemplation of virtue and vice. Moral rec-
titude, as we shall afterward see, is the correspondence or
harmony of our mental affection, and our external conduct,
with the various relations we sustain ; and the Creator
of the mind has not merely imparted to it the power of dis-
cerning this correspondence, but of approving an action
which is manifestly in conformity with rectitude, and of
disapproving another which as obviously violates it.
Most writers on ethical subjects admit the existence of
moral judgments — or a power of distinguishing right from
wrong ; but some appear to forget that we have moral
emotions, as well as moral judgments ; or, in other words,
that there is in the mind an original susceptibility of moral
emotion, in consequence of which, actions of a moral cha-
racter are regarded with powerful feelings of approval, or
condemnation.
It is, however, as undoubted that the mind has been
formed to approve what is right, as the intellect to discern
324 CLASS I. MORAL APPROBATION
it. Let the appeal be made to consciousness, and it will
be found that the man who errs in argument, and the man
who deviates from the rule of moral rectitude, are viewed
with very different feelings. It is the judgment which de-
tects what is incorrect both in the reasoning and the con-
duct ; but, in the latter case, there is a vivid emotion of
disapprobation subsequent to the judgment, which never
follows a mere mistake in ratiocination. And, if we ga-
ther the verdict of observation and experience, we shall
find it in perfect harmony with the testimony of conscious-
ness. Men who have shaken off the fetters of moral re-
straint, may be held together by motives of interest, but
not by feelings of mutual respect. If they admire each
other's talents, they cannot approve of each other's princi-
ples and conduct : the thing is incredible, impossible. The
mind has no susceptibility of approving vice, considered
as such ; and, therefore, an unholy brotherhood of beings
linked together for the accomplishment of some nefarious
scheme, has been frequently broken up, through the mutual
suspicions engendered by a feeling of each other's worth-
lessness.
The emotions of which we now speak, contribute to dis-
tinguish us, as moral agents, from brutes and inanimate ob-
jects, which are only capable of being governed by instinct
or physical power. They are now, however, considered
rather physiologically than ethically, as phsenomena of the
mind, indicating corresponding susceptibilities of mind ;
and so adapted to give us a fuller and more correct concep-
tion of the mind, as a spiritual substance or essence. In
this sense we may say, in defining the mind, that it is that
which morally approves and disapproves, as well as that it
is that which thinks and feels, and judges, &c.
While some have overlooked the susceptibility of moral
emotion, as a constituent part of the mental constitution,
others have denied the existence of moral judgments ; at
least they have forgotten, that a moral emotion necessarily
presupposes an exercise of moral judgment, pronouncing
upon the rectitude or criminality of the action which ex-
AND DISAPPROBATION. 325
cites the emotion. This appears to me to be the great
errror, or rather one of the great errors, of Dr. Brown on
the subject of morals. His doctrine upon this subject is,
that the emotions of approbation and disapprobation, of
which we speak, " are not the result of an intellectual com-
parison of the action with certain rules of propriety derived
from any source whatever," — " that they do not even pre-
suppose any such comparison, except that of the action it-
self and its circumstances," — " that the rules of propriety to
which we have referred, are not previous to the emotions,
but the emotions to the rules, of which they constitute, in
truth, the foundation." In short the Doctor, misled by his
notions of beauty, supposes that as we do not first pro-
nounce an object beautiful, and then feel the emotion of
beauty, so we do not first pronounce an action right, and
then feel the emotion of moral approbation ; the emotion
in both cases takes the lead ; and as we call that object
beautiful which excites the emotion of beauty, so we de-
signate that action right which awakens the emotion of
moral approbation.
This statement exhibits only a part of the errors, as I
cannot but regard them, which are to be found in that de-
partment of the Doctor's Lectures which are more properly
ethical, yet it contains all that it is necessary for me to
notice at present. I shall have occasion afterward to ex-
amine the necessary consequence of this doctrine, viz, that
virtue is nothing in itself, <fcc. I now simply encounter
the position, that no moral judgment precedes our moral
emotions ; and state, in opposition to it, that a perception
or conception of an action as right or wrong, invariably
precedes an emotion of approbation or disapprobation.
That we have moral judgments — notions of actions as vir-
tuous, or the contrary — will scarcely be denied ; and that
such judgments are presupposed, in our moral emotions, is
manifest from the circumstance, that the latter are uni-
formly governed, and may be reversed, by the former. Let
an action be ever so praise-worthy, it excites no feeling of
approbation, if we do not regard it as a right action. And,
on the contrary, let it be ever so flagitious, it awakens no
326 CLASS I. MORAL APPROBATION, &C.
feeling of condemnation, if it be not considered an impro-
per action. Persecution on the ground of religious opi-
nion, will be allowed to be censurable and criminal ; yet
the mind of the persecutor Saul, did not disapprove either
of his own conduct, or of that of his companions in ini-
quity, because he verily thought that he ought to do many
things contrary to the name of Christ. Did not judgment
precede and govern feeling in this instance ? How can it
be doubted, especially as we find, that at a future period,
when his moral judgment was reversed, his feelings also
underwent a change ; and that he then so strongly con-
demned the conduct he had once approved, as to include
it in the catalogue of his greatest sins, that he had perse-
cuted the church of God,
And how are we to account for the different state of
feeling with which the same action is contemplated, unless
we ascribe it to the different views which are taken
of its moral character ? To say nothing of parricide,
infanticide, the offering up of human sacrifices — prac-
tices abhorred by us, but approved, at least not disap-
proved, by multitudes — how is it to be explained that one
half of the inhabitants of this country practise habitually,
without any self-reproach, certain modes of conduct, which
the other half cannot witness without powerful feelings of
disapprobation ? Is it not the case that their moral judg-
ments differ, and that, from this difference there results a
corresponding difference of moral feeling ? And the only
way to produce harmony of feeling, is to produce harmony
of judgment. Let us only succeed in lodging a conviction,
in the judgments of those whose conduct we condemn,
that it is morally wrong ; and, however fatally the heart
may be entangled, the feeling of moral disapprobation will
infallibly arise.
We do not then merely form notions of actions as right
or wrong, but we approve of the one, and disapprove of
the other. The mind has an original susceptibility of mo-
ral emotion ; but this emotion does not arise on the mere
contemplation of an action ; it follows and is governed by
the moral judgment which the mind forms of it. Even Dr.
THE RESULT OF MORAL JUDGMENTS. 327
Brown himself, in attempting to account for that diversity,
and even contrariety of moral emotion, to which I have
alluded, is obliged to ascribe it to the different view which
is formed of the result of the action. There is, on his
scheme, an exercise of the intellect — a decision of the
judgment ; but that decision is, not that the action is right
or wrong, but that it is beneficial, or the contrary. Those
actions which are conceived, by the individuals who con-
template them, to issue in good, excite necessarily, without
any notion of their rectitude, the emotion of approbation ;
and those whose tendency is to evil, awaken the feeling of
disapprobation. The notion of rectitude is, he thinks,
subsequent to the emotion, and built upon it. I appre-
hend this statement is at variance with consciousness. We
do not first feel an action, if I may so speak, to be wrong,
and then judge it to be wrong. That would be a back-
ward motion of the mechanism of the mind, if 1 may em-
ploy such a figure. Nor do we, I conceive, in point of
fact, judge an action to be beneficial or injurious : but we
judge it to be right or wrong ; and the judgment is in-
stantly succeeded by a corresponding emotion of appro-
bation, or disapprobation.
The preceding statements, representing a susceptibility
of moral emotion as forming an essential part of the men-
tal constitution, are adapted to show the unphilosophical
nature of an objection which has been brought against the
doctrine of moral necessity, viz, that, on that scheme, it is
impossible to render praise or blame to the conduct of men.
The obvious reply is, that a voluntary agent in the commis-
sion of evil must be disapproved. It is in vain to allege
that he was constrained by the power of motives which had
a necessary influence upon his mind, to act as he did ;
for, whether the allegation be true or not, it is easy to re-
ply, that we are at least equally constrained by the con-
stitution of our minds to disapprove, and condemn him.
The moralist cannot fail to observe of how much impor-
tance these moral emotions are, as the restrainers and
punishers of vice, at any rate, of openly licentious con-
duct. Dark as is the moral aspect of many parts of the
328 CLASS I. LOVE AND HATRED.
world, how much more distressing would be the scene*
were there not a restraint, in this part of our mental con-
stitution, upon some of the worst passions of our nature.
Dr. Brown has written with great warmth and eloquence
on this subject ; but the natural amiableness of his mind,
combined with his excellent moral principles, has led him
to ascribe too much power to the moral guard of which
we speak. From the manner in which he expresses himself^
a careless observer of man might be led to suppose, that visi-
ble immorality is a kind of " vara avis'''' in the world — that
the indignant voice within the bosom, of which he speaks,
remonstrating against the contemplated deed of immoral-
ity, in union with the certainty that that voice will be re-
echoed by the dreadful award of all around him, would
compel the transgressor, in every instance, to retire from
the possibility of human observation at least, before lie
permitted the developement of his passions, if it did not
altogether prevent his indulgence of them. Such, how-
ever, is not the fact ; and, therefore, while we do rejoice in
the degree of influence which these emotions possess in
preventing the prevalence of vice, it becomes us, at the
same time, to mourn over that deep degeneracy of our
race, which, notwithstanding the existence of barriers so
strong, has yet the power ''to deluge the earth with volca-
nic eruptions of anarchy and crime !"
LOVE AND HATRED.
The former of these terms comprehends a great variety
of emotions, which take different names, according to the
objects towards which they are directed, or to their differ-
ent degrees of intensity. When the emotion is awakened
by our own particular interests exclusively, it is called self-
love ; when it is directed towards mankind generally, it is
denominated good-will, or benevolence ; when it embraces
particular individuals, it may be friendship, or patriotism,
parental, filial, conjugal, or paternal affection. To express
those modifications of the affection which are produced
LOVE AND HATRED.
3^
by some of its more strongly marked different degrees of
intensity, it takes the name of regard, respect, esteem, ve-
neration, &c.
The analysis of this emotion presents us, in the opinion
of Dr. Brown, with two elements ; viz. a vivid delight in
the contemplation of the object of affection, and a desire
of good to that object. The latter is the result of the for-
mer. It is, however, an important remark of this writer,
that the delight which forms invariably a constituent part
of the emotion, admits of great variety. " The love which
we feel for a near relation may not, in our maturer years,
be exactly the same emotion as that which we feel for a
friend ; the love which we feel for one relation, or friend,
of one character, not exactly the same as the love which we
feel for another relation, perhaps of the same degree of
propinquity, or for another friend of a different character ;
yet if we were to attempt to state these differences in
words, we might make them a little more obscure, but we
could not make them more intelligible." They are better
known by the distinctive phrases — love of parents, friends,
country, &c. — than by any description of the variety of
the feelings themselves; as the difference between the
sweetness of honey, and that of sugar, is better known by
these mere names of the particular substances which ex-
cite the feelings, than by any description of the difference
of the sweetness. " Or rather," adds Dr. Brown, " in the
one way it is capable of being made known to those who
have ever tasted the two substances ; in the other way, no
words which human art could employ, if the substances
themselves are not named, would be able to make known
the distinctive shades."
It follows necessarily, from this analysis of love, that
some quality must exist, or must be conceived to exist, in
the beloved object, which, by virtue of the constitution of
the mind, is capable of yielding pleasure to it. This qua-
lity, then, let it be especially observed, is the object of love,
or that by which the emotion is excited. The emotion is
in itself delightful ; it is happiness to love ; but we do not
l9ve for the sake of the pleasure of loving. If that were
4'2
^I'SO CLAbS I. LOVt: AND HATKED.
the case, there would be the same inducement to love all
the objects by which we are surrounded, the pleasure of
loving being in all cases, when at least the emotion is
equally intense, the same; and, therefore, the actual direc-
tion of our love, would be a mere matter of accident.
Besides, the act of loving must be performed, before we
can experience the pleasure of the act. Love exists, in the
order of nature, before the pleasure ; and so cannot be
awakened by the pleasure, unless we admit that the effect
may sometimes produce the cause. It may also be further
stated, that, if no pleasure attended the act of loving, we
should be constrained, by the constitution of our minds,
to give our regard to those qualities which now awaken our
affection ; as we are constrained to despise the mean and
the profligate, though no pleasure is experienced in de-
spising. The pleasure of loving is not, then, the cause, or
the object of affection.
The emotions of hatred are awakened by the percep-
tion of any thing which the tendencies of our nature,
either mental or moral, render evil to us. They do not
arise on the occurrence of absolute suffering merely, but on
the anticipation of suffering, or on the prospect of a dimi-
nution of that portion of good which we enjoy, or wish to
possess. In its general nature, the emotion of hatred is di-
rectly opposite to that of love ; and presents, accordingly, to
our analysis, a strong feeling of pain on the contemplation
of an object, and a desire of injury to it. It is modified
also, like the emotion of love, by the objects against which
it is directed, as well as by its degree of intensity.
The importance of both these classes of emotions must
not be overlooked. The benevolent affections, as they
are properly called, contribute largely to the happiness of
mankind, both by the pleasure which they directly yield
to those in whose minds they are awakened, and by the
happiness which they diffuse by the actions to which they
lead. A benevolent man is the producer of happiness to
others, and the subject of happiness himself; for to love
is to enjoy, and he only can be perfectly miserable who
has nothing to love, or who is to no being the object of
LOVE AND HATRED. 331
love, " So consolatory is regard," says Dr. Brown, " in
all the agitations of life, except under the horrors of re-
morse, that he who has one heart to share his affection,
though he may still have feelings to which we must con-
tinue to give the name of sorrow, cannot be miserable ;
while he who has no heart that would care whether he
were suffering or enjoying, alive or dead — and who has
himself no regard to the suffering or enjoyment of a single
individual, may be rich, indeed, in the external means of
happiness, but cannot be rich in happiness, which exter-
nal things may promote, but are as little capable of pro-
ducing, as the incense on the altar of giving out its aro-
matic odours, where there is no warmth to kindle it into
fragrance."* In harmony with these statements it has
been said, with inimitable beauty, as well as truth, that
heaven is perfect love, and hell the perfect want of love.
Nor is a susceptibility of the malevolent affections,
as they are called, though improperly, an unnecessary
part of the mental constitution. They are the defence
of happiness against the injustice which would other-
wise be every moment invading it. The indignation,
and abhorrence, which are awakened by deeds of lawless
violence, add to the force of penal sanctions, and guard us
against aggressions which no mere statuary enactments could
entirely prevent. It has been thought by some moralists in-
consistent with the justice and holiness of God to suppose,
that he has implanted in the mind a susceptibility of these
emotions. The opinion can only have originated in a mis-
apprehension of the nature of the susceptibility ; " for a ca-
pability of loathing vice is necessary to moral excellence ;
without it we should be the very beings whom we were
not formed capable of abhorring." The existence of such
a capability renders, doubtless, an improper developement
of it possible — as the power of loving renders it possible
to love sin ; but He who implanted the susceptibility, is
not accountable for this sinful developement of it. The
emotion itself is, as we have seen, a strong feeling of
pain on the contemplation of an object regarded by us as
* Vol. III. p. 272.
332 CLASS I. — SYMPATHY.
an evil object, in union with a desire of injury to it. Now
it will not be alleged that the painful feeling is improper ;
and it is equally manifest, that the accompanying desire
of injury is not so per se, I may desire evil to an indi-
vidual, and even inflict evil upon him, with the most
virtuous and benevolent intention. The moral character
of the desire depends upon the intention. If, indeed, we
desire evil to an individual merely as evil, how much so-
ever he may deserve it — if we do not desire it as a means
of some more ultimate good, our desire is then fitly
characterized by the terms malice, envy, &c., and must be
given up to condemnation, as being a sinful developement
of a susceptibility which is not morally evil per se. There
is, doubtless, great danger of this improper developement ;
and all who value the approbation of conscience, must be
on their guard here : but when we analyze the feeling,
and consider what is its ultimate object, we shall find that
the " term malevolent is far from being the most appro-
priate that might be employed to express it, and that it is
only in a qualified sense that it can at all be applied. Is
its object the communication of suffering to a sensitive
being, or the punishment of injustice and cruelty ?" (or
more ultimately, we may add, the reformation of the un-
just and cruel man,) " a little reflection will convince us,
that the latter was its original and proper object."*
Thus the great Creator of the mind has formed it capa-
ble both of love and hatred ; but " he has not formed it
to have equal enjoyment in both." And in this circum-
stance we perceive the strongest proof of his goodness.
Love aims at pouring enjoyment upon all around, — hatred
at inflicting suffering ; now it is happiness to love, and
misery to hate. Can this be accident ? Is it possible to
doubt, that He who implanted in the mind all its suscep-
tibilities, designed the happiness of his creatures ?
SYMPATHY.
The mind, it is supposed, possesses a power of so en-
tering into the circumstances of others, as to partake of
* Dewar's Moral Philosophr, Vol. I. pp. 394, 5*
SYMPATHY. 333
their feelings. And if these words are not very strictly
interpreted, there can be no doubt that we possess such a
power. " Without any direct cause of pain we catch
pain," in the emphatic language of Dr. Brown, " as it
were, by a sort of contagious sensibility, from the mere
violence of another's anguish." Nor is it merely with
pain that we sympathize ; pleasure is also infectious,
though perhaps not to the same degree. This has, indeed,
been denied by some philosophers, who, misled by the
etymology of the word, tell us, that the proper idea of
sympathy is that of suffering with another. No candid
observer of facts, however, can doubt, it is presumed, that
we rejoice with them that rejoice, as well as weep with
them that weep. " There is a charm in general gladness
that steals upon us without our perceiving it ; and if we
have no cause of sorrow, it is sufficient for our momentary
comfort, that we be in the company of the happy."
It is generally imagined, however, that the mind pos-
sesses a stronger comparative tendency to participate in
the sad, than in the gay, emotions of those around us ;
and this tendency is by some supposed to be the result of
a process of reasoning. " It arises," we are told, " in a
great measure from the conception that the state of suf-
fering has stronger claims upon our fellow feeling than a
state of joy. The happy man, we are apt to imagine, is
happy enough without us ; but the suffering man needs
our corhmiseration, and help. It must be admitted, also,"
the same writer proceeds, " that self-love at times affects
our sympathy. We form a comparison, in the case of
distress, which makes us sensible of the weakness of the
individual, of his dependence upon ourselves, and of his
need of help. On this ground, it is conceived, that there
will afterward be an obligation to be grateful to us, ari-
sing out of the action of the sympathetic feeling ; but in
the case of joy, there is an inversion of this order. The
individual whose happiness makes us happy, is not con-
sidered as owing any obligation to os for our sympathy.
The obligation, on the contrary, seems to lie on the other
334 CLASS I. SYMPATHY.
side ; and it is easy to conceive that we may be unwilling
to incur this obhgation."
It is impossible to refuse to the preceding statement the
praise of ingenuity ; yet it is, I think, radically defective.
The considerations mentioned by this writer may set in
motion the hand^ but they will not give the heart of sym-
pathy ; — they do not exhibit the source of the alleged
superior feeling in the case of distress ; they merely ac-
count for the ready help that is afforded. If it be a fact
that we more readily and powerfully sympathize with sor-
row than with joy, it seems impossible to account for this
fact — on the admission of a distinct susceptibility of sym-
pathy — without supposing that the principle is naturally
more vigorous in the one case than in the other. I am,
however, much disposed to regard it as an unsupported
assumption, that there is in the mind a stronger tendency
to sympathize with sorrow than joy. The truth of the
case will, perhaps, be found to be, that every one enters
more readily into that feeling, whether it be sorrow, or
joy, which has been most prevalent in his own mind.
It is not, however, certain that sympathy in the general
feelings of others, is the result of a distinct susceptibility
of mind. It may be possible, perhaps, to trace all its
pha3nomena to another law of the mind. Even Dr.
Brown, who maintains, though with some hesitation, that
the mind possesses an original tendency to sympathy,
admits that many of its phaenomena may be traced to sug-
gestion. " It may be considered," he says, " as a neces-
sary consequence of the laws of suggestion, that the sight
of any of the symbols of internal feeling, should recall to
us the feeling itself, in the same way as a portrait, or rather,
as the alphabetic name of our friend, recalls to us the con-
ception of our friend himself. Some faint and shadowy
sadness we undoubtedly should feel, therefore, when the
external signs of sadness were before us ; some greater
cheerfulness, on the appearance of cheerfulness in others,
even though we had no peculiar susceptibility of sympathi-
zing emotions, distinct from the mere general tendencies
of vsuggestion." Now. if some of the phapnomena of sym-
SYMPATHY. 335
pathy must^ as Dr. Brown acknowledges, be resolved into
suggestion, that fact lays a strong ground of probability
that all may be thus resolved. And in support of this
sentiment several powerful arguments may be adduced.
We have the feelings of sympathy, when there is no
object of sympathy. We shudder, as if sympathizing,
but shudder at a mere thought, as when under the influ-
ence of some lively conception of danger, which will
produce similar involuntary muscular movements, with
the actual peril. Our sympathetic feelings are found
to be most lively, when the circumstances of the indivi'
dual who attracts our sympathy, have been most similar to
our own. The man who has encountered and escaped the
dangers of a storm, feels most acutely when the vessel, in
the distance, appears with her signals of distress, and to
which no assistance can be rendered. With the mother,
bereft of her first born, none will sympathize so tenderly, as
those who have sustained a similar bereavement. It is not
easy to explain this on the assumption, that sympathy is an
original susceptibility given to enable us to enter into the
feelings of others. But if on the other hand, it be the re-
sult of suggestion, it is manifest that the tears and anguish
of the bereft mother, will recall very powerfully to the mind
of her friend, the hour and the poignancy of her own an-
guish ; i. e. her sympathy will be greater than that of others.
The analysis, also, of sympathy tends, I apprehend, to show
that it is not the result of an original susceptibility. Dr.
Cogan, indeed, seems to consider it as simply the partici-
pation of the feelings of others ; the analysis of Dr. Brown
is, however, more correct. Sympathy in sorrow consists,
according to his statements, of two successive states of
mind — the feeling of the sorrow of others — and the desire
of relieving it. The first element of this complex feeling
is here, I apprehend, very unhappily described. What is
meant by the feeling of the sorrow of others ? We may,
indeed, feel sorrow in company with others ; our sorrowful
feelings may resemble theirs ; but it is only in a figurative
sense that we can be said to feel their sorrows. These
arise from causes which do not affect us. The state of
their minds cannot become ours ; it is incapable of transfer-
3B6 CLA»S I. SYMPATHV.
ence. Nothing mote can with truth be said than that, in
sympathy, we are the subjects of feehngs which resemble
those of our friends ; and the general laws of suggestion
sufficiently account for their existence. Suggestion recalls
past feelings, as well as past ideas, or conceptions. The
indications of grief which we witness, recall or renew the
grief we have formerly experienced ; so that the pain we
feel in sympathy is our own pain, it cannot possibly be the
pain of others ; and the susceptibility of sympathy, instead
of being distinct and original, may be nothing more than
the readiness with which the general principle of sugges-
tion recalls our past feelings of pleasure or of pain, when
we observe the external symbols of either in others. If this
readiness cannot be resolved into any of the secondary laws
of suggestion, it will follow that though in one sense, sym-
pathy is not original — inasmuch as it is not distinct from
the general principle of suggestion ; yet that, in another
sense, it is original — inasmuch as a natural and an espe-
cial tendency has been given to the general principle, to
recall our own joys and sorrows, when we witness the joys
and sorrows of others. I cannot but think, however, that
the peculiar interest which all men attach to every thing
that concerns themselves, will account for this particular
developement of the general principle of suggestion.
If the preceding statements be correct, they evince the
truth of a remark of Dr. Brown, that " there is nothing pe-
culiar in the mere grief which constitutes one of the ele-
ments of sympathy." It cannot be peculiar, because it is
a renewal of the grief which we may have experienced in
numberless instances before, and which is more readily re-
called, according to the ordinary laws of association, after
every additional instance of its recurrence ; a circumstance
which explains the fact, that those who have suffered much,
are the most addicted to sympathy. And if there be no-
thing peculiar in the griefs there is surely nothing more
peculir in the desire which constitutes one of the elements
of sympathy ; so that the general susceptibilities of experi-
encing grief and desire, will account for the phaenomena of
sympathy, without calling iti the aid of a third original
principle.
SYMPATHY,
337
i
They explain also another assertion made by Dr. Brown,
while they correct a mistake into which he appears to have
fallen. " Sympathy is not," he says, " a modification of
love;" and in support of this statement he appeals to the
well-known and conclusive fact, that we sympathize with
an individual in pain, whom we regard not with love, but
positive dislike and even abhorrence. There is nothing
mysterious in this on the principles just stated. The symp-
toms of pain will recall our own former sufferings by the
common laws of association, whatever be the character of
the sufferer. I do not see how our love, or our hatred,
can affect the operation of the principle of suggestion. It
may be fairly doubted, I think, whether what we call sym-
pathy is greater in the case of a suffering friend, than it
would have been in the case of an enemy. Our affliction
is doubtless greater, because other painful ingredients are
added to it. There is more than sympathy in our cup of
sorrow. Sympathy does not at all depend upon love. It
should not be spoken of as an emotion which arises out of
it — a statement which Dr. Brown, with singular self-incon-
sistency, has made ; for, almost in the next sentence he
tells ^us, " that there is often sympathy when there is no
love, but positive abhorrence !" How then can it arise
from love ?
The same writer thus beautifully remarks upon this law
of sympathy. " If compassion were to arise only after we
had ascertained the moral character of the sufferer, and
weighed all the consequences of good and evil which might
result to society from the relief which it is in our power to
offer, who would rush to the preservation of the drowning
mariner, to the succour of the wounded, to the aid of him
who calls for help against the ruffians who are assailing
him ? Our powers of giving assistance, have been better
accommodated to the necessities which may be relieved by
them. By the principle of compassion within us, we are
benefactors almost without willing it ; — we have already
done the deed, when, if deliberation had been necessary
as a previous step, we should not have proceeded far in the
43
338 CLASS I. SYMPATHY.
calcuJation which was to determine by a due equipoise of
opposite circumstances, the propriety of the relief."*
It would be unpardonable to omit directing the particu-
lar attention of the reader, to that display of divine good-
ness which the emotions of sympathy exhibit. " Even in
the case of our happier feelings," says Dr. Brown, " it is
not a slight advantage that nature has made the sight of
joy productive of joy to him who merely beholds it. Men
are to mingle in society ; and they bring into society affec-
tions of mind that are almost infinitely various ; if these
internal diversities of feeling were to continue as they are,
what delight would society afford ? The opposition would
render the company of each a burden to the other. The
gay would fly from the sullen gloom of the melancholy f
the melancholy would shrink from a mirth which they
could not possibly partake. But the same power which
formed this beautiful system of the universe out of chaos^
reduces to equal regularity and beauty this and every other
confusion of the moral world. By the mere principle of
sympathy, all the discord in the social feelings becomes ac-
cordant. The sad, unconsciously become gay ; the gay
are softened into a joy, that has less perhaps of mirth, but
not less of delight ; and though there is still a diversity of
cheerfulness, all is cheerfulness." " How much more ad-
mirable, however, is the providence of the Creator's bounty,
in that instant diffusion to others, of the grief which is felt
only by one, that makes the relief of this suffering not a
duty merely, which we coldly perform, but a want^ which
is almost like the necessity of some moral appetite. To
every individual there is thus secured the aid of multitudes,
to whom he had probably been formerly an object of in-
difference, if not of hatred."!
PRIDE AND HUMILITr.
Pride is said by Dr. Cogan to be " that exalted idea of
our state, qualifications, and attainments, &c. which ex-
ceeds the boundaries of justice, and induces us to look
* Vol, III. p. 290. t Vol. III. p. 291.
PRIDE AND HUMILITY. 339
down upon our supposed inferiors with some degree of un-
merited contempt." This definition of pride excludes it
from the class of emotions altogether ; it exhibits it as an
intellectual estimate of ourselves ; as a mistaken judgment,
requiring, of course, for its existence, no distinct and ori-
ginal susceptibility of mind. And this definition is the
more objectionable, because humility, which is certainly
the direct opposite of pride, is permitted to remain in the
class of emotions. It is said to be not too low an idea of
our state, &c. &c., but a degree of habitual sorrow and
painful apprehension, in consequence of this estimate of
our condition and character.
There can be no reasonable doubt, I think, that the
terms pride and humility, denote states of mind which be-
long, partly, at least, to the order of feelings. They in-
volve, doubtless, an intellectual estimate of our attain-
ments ; but, properly speaking, they denote " the vivid feel-
ings of joy or sadness, which attend the contemplation of
ourselves, when we regard our superiority or inferiority, in
any qualities of mind or body, or in the external circum-
stances in which we may be placed." The emotion, then,
involved in pride is not essentially immoral, and the recol-
lection of this statement will deliver us from certain diffi-
culties of a moral aspect, with which some other accounts
are embarrassed. If it be lawful to desire high attain-
ments in intellectual and moral excellence, it must be law-
ful to rejoice when we have been enabled to make them.
Besides, the mind has been formed to rejoice in such cir-
cumstances, and, therefore, the feeling of satisfaction can-
not be evil, per se. Dr. Brown states that the moral tur-
pitude which we generally, and, it must be granted, justly
attach to pride, does not lie in the pleasure of excellence,
as a mere direct emotion, but in those ill-ordered aflfections
which may have led us to the pursuit of excellence, that
is unworthy of our desire, or in the vanity and haughtiness
which may spring out of it. " The feeling of our excel-
lence," says he, " may give rise directly, or indirectly, to
various other affections of mind. It may lead us to im-
press others, as much as possible, with oitr superiority, — ^
340 CLASS I. PRIDE AND HUMILITY.
which we may do in two ways, by presenting to them at
every moment, some proofs of our advantages, mental,
bodily, or in the gifts of fortune ; or, by bringing to their
minds directly their inferiority, by the scorn with which
we treat them. The former of these modes of conduct is
what is commonly termed vanity ; the latter, haughtiness ;
but both, though they may arise from our mere comparison
of ourselves and others, and our consequent feeling of su-
periority, are the results of pride, not pride itself." The
emotion of gladness which arises from the conscious at-
tainment of high degrees of excellence, takes its moral
character from the nature of the excellence in which supe-
riority had been desired.
The term pride is sometimes used, not to mark this ele-
mentary emotion, but a prevalent disposition of mind to
discover superiority in itself, where it does not exist ; and
to dwell on the contemplation of the superiority where it
does exist, with a humbhng disdain, perhaps, of those that
are inferior. In this sense, pride " is unquestionably a vice
as degrading to the mind of an individual, as it is offensive
to that great Being, who has formed the superior and the
inferior, for mutual offices of benevolence ; and who often
compensates, by excellencies that are unknown to the
world, the more glaring disparity in qualities which the
world is quicker in discerning."
This prevalent disposition in any mind to discover supe-
riority in iteslf, is generally accompanied by a tendency to
take a low standard of comparison. Let us conceive of
two persons who have made an equal degree of intel-
lectual progress ; one compares himself with individuals
before him, and the other with those who are behind him,
in the march of general improvement ; the one will proba-
bly be proud, the other humble. Now whether the adop-
tion of dift'erent standards be regarded as the cause or the
consequence of pride, it cannot be doubted that an ha-
bitual tendency to seek a high standard of comparison, is
the most excellent and noble state of mind. " They mea-
suring themselves by themselves, and comparing them-
selves among themselves, are not wise." " An habitual ten-
ANGER. 341
dency to look beneath, rather than above," says Dr. Brown,
" is the prevailing tendency of mind which we call pride ;
while a disposition to look above, rather than below, and to
feel an inferiority, therefore, which others do not perceive,
i s the character which is denominated humility. Is it false,
then, or extravagant to say, that humility is truly the no-
bler ; and that pride, which delights in the contemplation
of the abject things beneath, is truly in itself more abject,
than that meekness of heart which is humble because it
has greater objects, and which looks with reverence to the
excellence that is above it, because it is formed with a ca-
pacity of feeling all the worth of that excellence which it
reveres ?''*
Class II.
Retrospective Emotions ; comprehending those which
relate to Objects as past.
The conception of some object of former pleasure or
pain, is essential to the complex feeling denoted by these
emotions ; and, on that account, they are denominated
Retrospective. In this class are included anger, gratitude,
regret, gladness, remorse, and self-approbation. Dr. Brown
admits a subdivision here, founded apparently on the cir-
cumstance, for he does not well explain his meaning, that
otlier individuals, personally considered, are the direct
objects of anger and gratitude, but not of regret, &c. &c.
ANGER,
Is a feeling of displeasure excited by any injury which
is either done or intended, to ourselves, or to others. It
involves in it, or rather it presupposes, a conception of the
injury, and it may be followed by a desire of retaliation ;
but, strictly speaking, anger is the emotion of displeasure
itself, exclusive both of its cause, and its consequences.
We have a considerable variety of names to mark the
various modifications of anger, some of which are in-
* Vol. HI. p. 314,
342 CLASS II. ANGER.
tended apparently to exhibit different degrees of the feel-
ing of displeasure itself—as indignation, anger, wrath,
rage, &c. ; and others, to denote different degrees and
naodifications of the desire of retaliation with which, as
we have said, it is generally accompanied, — as resent-
ment, rancour, revenge, &c.
This statement of the nature of anger will assist us in
disposing of the question which has been agitated with
reference to the moral character of this emotion. Some
regard it as evil per se. But if so, it cannot result from
an original susceptibility ; and to suppose that it does not,
is absurd. If the mind had not been formed to be angry,
in certain circumstances, how could anger at any time
exist ? Besides, if anger were in itself sinful, how could
Jehovah be represented, even in a figurative sense, as the
subject of it ? How could He who was separate from sin,
have looked upon men with anger ? How could we be
exhorted to be angry, and sin not ? These considerations
prove that anger is not evil per se ; and, if it be a mere
emotion of displeasure on the infliction of any evil upon
us, how can it be conceived that an essentially immoral
character attaches to it ? Anger becomes sinful, doubt-
less, when it springs up without sufficient cause, or when
it rises to excess, or when it continues too long ; — all of
which, it must be conceded, too frequently takes place, in
consequence of the moral perversity of our nature ; — but
the emotion of displeasure itself is not more essentially
evil, than the affection of love which may arise improperly
as well as anger. And though the moral character of the
accompanying desire of retaliation is far more question-
able, and must, in some of its modifications, be given up
to unmingled reprobation, I can scarcely venture to pro-
nounce even this evil per se. Man, in consequence of
depravity, is an enemy to man. It seems accordingly
necessary that there should be a principle in his mental
constitution, to operate as a moral restraint upon his dis-
position to violence and outrage. This moral guard is
the desire of retaliation which the evil doer awakens
against himself The mere emotion of displeasure might
or THB
be insufficient for the purpose. The aggressor might n6^'J,^lS'^>^
ANGER. _,
be repressed by a fire which blazed for a moment,
then expired. Resentment, which secures the bringing of
the transgressor to punishment, must be added to dis-
pleasure ; and both combined operate powerfully " to
save from guilt, and the consequences of guilt, the indi-
vidual who might otherwise have dared to be unjust, and
the individual who would have suffered from the unjust
invasion.
It is necessary to observe here, however, that to reach
the sublime height of Christian morality, this natural de-
sire of retaliation (for I admit that the mind was formed
capable of experiencing it) must not be cherished for its
own sake ; it must be subordinated to the ultimate design
of preventing the evil which it punishes. It should also
be further observed, that though anger, and even resent-
ment, or a desire of retaliation, may not be evil per se, they
are in great danger of becoming so. Dr. Brown has given
an admirable statement of the cases in which the former
must be regarded as improper. The following is a bare
abstract of his remarks.
1st, When it arises too soon — without reflection — when
the injury which awakens it, is only apparent, and was de-
signed to do good. The disposition which becomes too
speedily angry, we call a passionate disposition.
2dly, When it is disproportionate to the offence. An
individual feels that he is injured, it may be, in an incon-
siderable degree ; but, without inquiry, or thought, he pours
out at once all his fury upon the offender. To guard against
this we should call in the aid of reflection.
3dly, When it is transferred from the guilty to the inno-
cent, as in the case of a fretful disposition.
4thly, When it is too long protracted. The disposition
is said, in that case, to be revengeful — a disposition of
which it is difficult to say whether the guilt or the deformity
be the greater.
If a theological difficulty should occur to any of my
readers, founded on the consideration that man was not de-
signed by his Maker to be the foe of man, and so did not
344 CLASS Ii: GRATITUDE.
need that moral guard against aggression and violence of
which we have been speaking, I would remind them that
God, who sees the end from the beginning, may have been
led to give to him a mental constitution, which was adapted
to what he foreknew would become his permanent and
general condition.
GRATITUDE.
Gratitude, says Dr. Cogan, " is a pleasant affection ex-
cited by a lively sense of benefits received, or intended ;"
it is indeed a modification of the emotion of love. The
love of gratitude is kindled by kindness ; and hence we are
said to "love God because he first loved us." Other spe-
cies of love are excited, it is supposed, by some excellence,
or imagined excellence, which resides habitually in the ob-
ject of affection ; and hence it has been usual to draw a
line of distinction between the love of gratitude, and the
love of complacency. There may, however, be less differ-
ence between them, than is commonly imagined. Dr. Co-
gan remarks, very justly, as it appears to me, " that grati-
tude is mostly connected with an impressive sense of the
amiable disposition of the person by whom the benefit is
conferred, and that it immediately produces a personal af-
fection for him."* Now, if this be the case, the exciting
cause of gratitude may be the " amiable disposition" from
whence it is conceived, at least, that the streams of kind-
ness flow ; and this is an excellence of a moral kind. The
object of gratitude, is not the gift, but the giver. It in-
volves, doubtless, value of the gift ; since, when we receive
nothing which is felt by us to be a good, there is no dis-
play of kindness, and nothing, of course, to excite grati-
tude ; but gratitude, properly so called, is love to the do*
nor, and not love to the bounty conferred by him, or a mi-
ser might be one of the most grateful beings in the world.
It may be, in short,love to that benevolence which prompted
the gift. In support of the preceding statements, many
reasons may be assigned.
"^ P. 150.
GRATITUDE. 345
Firsts a hard-hearted and vindictive man is seldom so
fortunate, though he may scatter with profusion the gifts of
his bounty all around him, as to awaken in those who de-
ceive them the feeling of gratitude.
Secondly^ where that feeling does arise, it is accom-
panied with a conviction that, notwithstanding his rough
exterior, he possesses more real kindness than is usually
imagined. To others he may appear a compound of every
thing that is detestable ; but the grateful man sees in him
a redeeming spark of benevolence.
Thirdly^ the benefits we receive awaken no gratitude if
they are conceived to flow from any other source than kind-
ness. The bestowment of a princely fortune upon us, by
an individual who manifestly cared neither for our joys nor
our sorrows, and evidently aimed only at gaining a reputa-
tion for splendid liberality, would fail to touch our hearts.
We feel no gratitude to the advocate who saves our pro-
perty, nor to the physician i^\\o saves our lives, unless we
conceive that some feelings of kindness, and of concern for
us, blend with a sense of professional obligation, and
prompt, in some degree, the exertion of their skill.
Fourthly^ the smallest amount of benefit will awaken the
liveliest feelings of gratitude, when it is an unequivocal
manifestion of a benevolent temper, and an affectionate
interest in our welfare. How should this be the case if the
love of gratitude were excited by the gift, and not by a
conception of the amiable qualities which prompted its
communication ? I am well aware, that the most power-
ful feelings of gratitude are generally awakened by splen-
did donations, and by frequently repeated acts of kindness ;
but this may result from the circumstance that they are
viewed as more unequivocal and striking proofs of that
amiableness of disposition, which, as I am now endeavour-
ing to show, is the exciting cause of gratitude ; and this
statement explains the fact, mentioned by Cogan, that
•' when the affection operates according to the natural
course of influence, it will be correspondent to the impor-
tance of the good obtained — the distance in station be-
tween the recipient and his benefactor — the smallness of
44
346 CLASS II. REGRET AND GLADNESS.
his claims — perhaps the consciousness of deserving very
different treatment." Hence, we may add, the warmth of
gratitude which the Christian manifests to the Giver of all
good.
REGRET AND GLADNESS.
The affections which bear these names are said, by Dr.
Brown, to be " the emotions with which we look back on
past events, as mere events of advantage or disadvantage
to Us, without including any notion of our own moral pro-
priety or impropriety of conduct." It might have been
better, perhaps, if the Doctor had said " to us," and to
others; because we regret the evils which befall our
friends, and are glad to receive intelligence of tlieir pros-
perity. In this respect there is a broad line of distinction
between this and the following pair of emotions. We may .
regret the conduct of uur friends— wu may disapprove of
it, but we never suffer remorse on account of jt ; our cdn-
sciences only accuse or excuse ourselves.
In regret and gladness, the simple emotion of pleasure
and of pain, which constitutes one of their elements, is
combined with a conception of its cause. In this, and in
this only, as we have formerly seen, do they differ from
emotions which were considered in the former class. We
may " be melancholy or cheerful without knowing why ;"
on the contrary, the cause of our regret or gladness it is
always possible to specify. That cause must be a past
event ; and the retrospective reference is so important a
part of the complex whole, that the state of mind which
involves this reference may admit, if not require, a dif-
ferent classification.
Few events are productive of unmixed evil or good ; by
far the greater number are the source of both. It is
accordingly manifest, that the emotions they excite will
correspond with the view which an individual takes of
them. If the evil merely be contemplated, regret will
ayise ; if the good exclusively, gladness will be awakened ;
if both be contemplated, the two emotions will be ex-
REHORSE AND SELF-APPROBATION. 347
cited, each modifying the other. Regret and gladness do
not then depend upon the nature of events merely, but
also upon the tendency of the mind to dwell, as we say in
familiar language, on the dark or the bright side of things.
There are individuals whom nothing can permanently de-
press ; there are others whom nothing can permanently
cheer. In the former, we find an habitual desire to trace
the favourable consequences of events; and this desire, as
Dr. Brown beautifully and philosophically explains it, " in-
fluences the train of our suggestions" (as our other desires
lead to the suggestion of images accordant with them ;)
" it calls up those results which may minister to our enjoy-
ment or our benefit ;" and thus the very cup of sorrow it-
self is drained^of half its bitterness.
The preceding statement evinces the importance, in a
philosophical point of view, of that confidence in the Di-
vine wisdom and goodness which the Gospel requires us
to display. It powerfully tends to induce that habit of
mind to trace the favourable consequences of events
which, as we have just seen, is so eminently desirable :
" which is," indeed, as Dr. Brown well says, " almost the
same thing to us as if adverse had been transformed into
fortunate and prosperous events." Thus it enables us in
some measure to walk by sight as well as by faith.
REMORSE AND SELF-APPRGBATIGN.
Remorse is that dreadful feeling of self-accusation ana
condemnation which arises on the retrospect of our guilt.
It is combined with, or pre-supposes, a perception of cri-
minality ; and, consequently, a knowledge of the standard
by which actions are weighed ; but remorse itself is, pro-
perly speaking, the vivid feeling of regret, and self-con-
demnation, which is consequent upon this intellectual
state of mind.
The opposite of this emotion, for which our language
does not supply us with an unexceptionable name, " is the
delightful feeling of self-approbation, which arises on the
retrospect of innocence and virtue." The scriptural ex-
348 CLASS II. REMORSE.
hortation, to "keep a conscience void of offence,'* de-
cidedly proves both that the human mind is capable, phy»
sically speaking, of experiencing the emotion, and that
the state of mind which it denotes may be habitually at-
tained, to a certain degree at least, by great care and
watchfulness.
Some writers consider the emotions of which we are
now speaking, and which we may denominate moral re-
gret and moral gladness, as being, in truth, the feelings of
moral approbation and disapprobation, already considered
— modified by the circumstance that the conduct ap-
proved or condemned is our own. Dr. Brown, more cor-
rectly as it appears to me, distinguishes them. "The
emotions," says he, " with which we regard the virtues
and vices of others, are very different from those with
which we regard the same vices and virtues as our own.
There is the distinctive moral feeling, indeed, in both
cases, whether the generous sacrifice, or the malignant
atrocity which we consider, be the deed of another, or of
our own heroic kindiieiss oi guilty passion ; but, in the one
case, there is something far more than mere approbation,
however pleasing, or mere disapprobation, however disa-
greeable. There is the dreadful moral regret, arising from
the certainty that we have rendered ourselves unworthy oi
the love of men, and the approbation of God."* His de-
scription of the counterpart of this moral regret it is un-
necessary to transcribe. It is further manifest to me, also,
that moral regret is essentially different both from mere
regret and moral disapprobation, from the fact that, how
dear soever the offender may be to us, and with whatever
bitterness of feeling we may contemplate his misconduct,
there does not arise any thing like the feeling of remorse.
The susceptibility of experiencing the emotions we are
now considering constitutes, I apprehend, what is usually
called the power of conscience. Some, indeed, regard
conscience as a modification of the faculty of judgment, as
it is ordinarily denominated, or rather, perhaps, as the
* Vol. in p. 534.
V'tf
REMORSE AND SELF-APPROBATION. JM9
judgment exercised in pronouncing upon the moral cha-
racter of actions. This appears to me a very obvious mis-
take. The operations of conscience are confined to our-
selves the faculty of judgment includes others within the
range of its decisions. My judgment pronounces the con-
duct of a friend to be wrong, but it cannot be said that my
conscience condemns him. The doctrine also, now op-
posed, loses sight of the distinct offices of judgment and
conscience. Judgment is the jury which brings in the
verdict of guilty ; conscience is the executioner, who
strikes the avenging blow.
There are others who regard conscience as an internal
sense, which decides upon the moral character of actions as
the eye discriminates colours. But, if that were the case,
how could the decisions of conscience (as they are called,)
with regard to the moral propriety of actions, be reversed, as
they frequently are, by the mere illumination of the under-
standing ? When did any accession of knowledge cause the
colour scarlet to appear green, or green scarlet ? Besides,
the notion of conscience, as a sense, which decides on the
morality of actions, is open to the objection referred to
above ; viz. that the office of conscience is not to pro-
nounce an action right or wrong ; but, if I may so speak,
to reward it hi the dme case, and to punish it in the other.
It is better therefore, to consider conscience as the suscep-
tibility of experiencing those emotions of approbation, or
disapprobation and condemnation, which are awakened
bx a retrospect of the moral demerit, or the moral excel-
lence, of our own conduct. The operation of conscience
is, in all cases, subsequent, in the order of nature at least,
to a conviction of demerit, or the contrary. By an origi-
nal law of the mind, self-approbation, or self-condemna-
tion, arises as an individual conceives himself innocent or
guilty, whether that conviction be well or ill founded. The
approval of conscience does not, then, afford certain evi-
dence that our conduct has been consistent with true recti-
tude ; the disapprobation of conscience is not infallible
proof that our conduct has been contrary to it. The
conscience of Paul applauded him while persecuting the
350 CLASS II. REMORSE AND SELF-APPROBATION.
church of God. The consciences of some of the pri-
mitive Christians condemned them while eating " meats
which had been sacrificed to their idols ;" though there
was no moral evil in the latter case, and flagrant iniquity
in the former.
The view just given of the nature of conscience is free,
it is imagined, from the objections which are urged
against the common statements in regard to it. It does
not identify it with the judgment, nor does it render it in-
dependent of the judgment. It accounts for the diversity
of its operations, and it confines its influence to ourselves.*
Dr. Brown presents us with some admirable remarks il-
lustrative of the manner in which individuals, whose moral
principles were once correct, become involved in guilt and
remorse, before they have any suspicion of danger. They
would repel, perhaps, any temptation to fraud, or injustice ;
but what is called social pleasure presents a different as-
pect. It comes in a very alluring shape to all whose minds
are not armed against its seductions, by the higher enjoy-
ments which religion affords; while that shape appears
scarcely even questionable. But pleasure once made the
object of pursuit, soon becomes the business of life. It
hurries into dissipation and vice ; and the individual who,
on the commencement of his career^'saw no images save
those of social enjoyment, may, in after life, have to retrace
years heedlessly and uselessly passed, with the astonish-
ment, though not with the comfort, of one who looks back
on some frightful dream, and who scarcely knows whether
he is awake.
The value of the blessing denoted by the words, " a
good conscience," is inexpressibly great. Dr. Brown says,
it is the only object of desire that' is truly universal ; and
* This part of my manuscript was prepared before I was fortunate
enough to see the account which is given of the nature of conscience by a
very highly esteemed friend, the Rev. Dr. Wardlaw, in his late excellent
work on the state of the heathen. I felt that it was due to the acknowledged
talents of that writer to reconsider the statements given above. With the
general principles of that admirable little work I most cordially concur ;
but on the particular point to which this note refers I did not see cause to
alter my opinion.
CLASS III. — DESIRES AND FEARS. 351
certain it is, that though depraved propensities may invest
pleasure with attractions so alluring as to induce indivi-
duals to purchase them even at the expense of rousing the
monitor within, yet all men dread his expostulations — all
would gladly have the approbation of conscience, though
all have not the principle and fortitude to do what is neces-
sary to secure it.
Class III.
Prospective Ethotions, comprehending those which relate
to Objects as future.
The two classes of emotions denoted by the words De-
sires and Fears, include all the feelings of the kind we are
about to consider. " They are the most important of all
our emotions, from their direct influence on action, which
our other feelings influence only indirectly through the
medium of them."
" Desire," says Mr. Locke, " is the uneasiness a man feels
in himself upon the absence of any thing whose present
enjoyment carries the idea of good in it." This defini-
tion appears to me scarcely correct. The uneasy sensa-
tion, of which Locke speaks, is rather that which precedes
desire than desire itself. The mere destitution of good
will produce uneasiness, but not desire, unless there be
some knowledge of the cause of uneasiness. The emotion
of desire itself is a feeling of pleasure, not of pain. Dr.
Brown has not attempted to define the words desire and
fear ; but he has stated all that is necessary to be said, and
perhaps all that can be said, upon the subject. " Our desires
arise from the prospect of what is agreeable in itself, or
from the prospect of relief from what is disagreeable. Our
fears arise from the prospect of what is disagreeable in itself,
and from the prospect of the loss of what is in itself agree-
able." If, then, our desires are excited by the prospect of
that which is conceived to be good, and our fears by what
is deemed evil, where is the propriety of the dissertation
into which he immediately enters, to show that what he calls
the object of our desires and fears, may be the same ; sa
that is it unnecessary to consider them separately? What
352 CLASS HI. DESIRES AND FEARS.
does he intend by the object of desire and fear ? If by that
term be meant that which excites the emotions, it is mani-
fest that the object of desire and fear is not alike; in the
one case it is good, in the other evil. If it be meant that
the same being or circumstance may produce either desire?
or fear, or both, there can be no doubt of the correctness
of the statement ; but as this being or circumstance must
be contemplated in different lights, when both emotions are
awakened, the thing feared and desired, or the object of the
desire and fear, is different. Let us examine his own illus-
tration *. " We hope that we shall attain to a situation of
which we are ambitious ; we fear that we shall not attain
to it. We fear that some misfortune, which seems to
threaten us, may reach us ; we hope that we shall be able
to escape. Here the hope and the fear, opposite as the
emotions are, arise from the same objects, the one or the
other prevailing according to the greater or less probabi-
lity on either side." Now it is admitted that, in a popular
sense, the objects may, perhaps, be said to be the same ;
but surely not in a philosophical sense. In the first case,
the object of desire is success ; the object of fear defeat.
In the latter case the descent of the misfortune is the ob-
ject of fear ; and escape from it the object of desire* And
even when the presence of the same being awakens both
of the emotions, it can only be said, in a popular sense, that
the object of the desire, and of the fear, is the same. We
desire the continued esteem of a friend — we fear to lose it.
The permanent possession of a good is the object in one
case — the permanent loss of it the object in the other. And
to maintain that the object of desire and fear is the same,
because the being before us is the same, appears to me al-
most as great a mistake as to allege that the object of sight
and of smell is the same, because the cause of both the
sensations is to be found in the single rose before us.
From the preceding account of the nature of desire, it
follows, as a necessary consequence, that the emotion thus
designated is only awakened by that which appears to us
good. We employ this phraseology on the ground that,
to secure the existence of desire, it is not necessary that the
DESiE£S AND FEARS. 353
object be good, e'lihet in a moral or physical point of view ;
but merely that it be so regarded by the mind which con-
templates it. It is neither morally nor physically good, i. e.
when the future as well as the present is considered, to in-
dulge to excess in the pleasures of the table ; but it appears
good, in the latter sense, to those who shut out of view
every moment but the present; they are, accordingly
drunkards, or gluttons. This is admitted by Dr. Brown.
" To desire," he says, " it is essential that the object ap-
pear good." — " What we do not desire may be conceived
by us to be good, relatively to others who desire it, but
cannot seem to be good relatively to us."* I have been
more desirous to lay before the reader this statement by Dr.
Brown, because, on the subject of desire, I am constrained,
after long-continued and anxious thought, to differ very
materially from him, on a point of some importance in it-
self, and of greatly more importance, when all its conse-
quences and bearings are properly considered.
From the language employed by Dr. Brown, " To de-
sire, it is essential that the object appear good," we might
have expected to hear him state that, in our conceptions
at least, the object desired must possess some excellence
of a moral or physical nature, — that the conception of
this excellence precedes the desire, and is, in fact, the
cause of it. Nothing, however, can be more opposite
than this, from the doctrine of this distinguished writer.
The good which is essential to desire is, he tells us, desira-
bleness ; and desirableness does not necessarily involve
the consideration of moral or physical good ; — " it is the
relation of certain objects to certain emotions, and nothing
more" — " the tendency of certain objects," in consequence
of the nature of the mind, " to be followed by that par-
ticular feeling which we term desire." It follows, from
this statement, that the good which Dr. Brown calls de-
sirableness, is not the power of the object desired to yield
satisfaction. Accordingly he tells us it is not. Objects
do not appear desirable to us because they yield pleasure,
■* Vol. III. IK 373.
45
354 CLASS 111.— DESIRES ARE EXCITED
for they would have been desirable had they yielded
none — the pleasure they impart is the result, not the
cause, of the desire. And, again, in a longer statement,
he says, " We desire, indeed, all these objects, and, how-
ever ill fitted some of them may appear to be productive
of delight, we may perhaps feel pleasure in all these ob-
jects, — as we certainly should feel pain, if we were not to
obtain what we desire, whatever the object of desire may
have been ; but it is not the pleasure which was the cir-
cumstance which prompted our desire when it arose, — it
was the desire previously awakened, which was accom-
panied with pleasure, or was productive of pleasure — the
pleasure being in all these cases the effect of the previous
desire, and necessarily presupposing it."*
The same doctrine had been previously afiirmed by Dr«
Price, from whom, indeed. Dr. Brown seems to have
borrowed it. His language is the following : " I cannot
help in this place, stepping aside a little to take notice of
an opinion already referred to ; I mean the opinion of
those who allow of no ultimate object of desire besides
private good. What has led to this opinion has been
inattention to the difference between desire, and the
pleasure implied in the gratification of it. The latter is
subsequent to the former, and founded in it : that is, an
object, such as fame, knowledge, or the welfare of a
friend, is desired, not because we foresee that when ob-
tained, it will give us pleasure ; but vice versa ; obtaining
it give us pleasure, because we previously desired it or
had an affection carrying us to it, and resting in it. And
were there no such affections, the very foundations of
happiness would be destroyed."!
The more common doctrine on this subject most un-
questionably is, that desire is kindled by that which is
good — by what is rendered good to us either by our
physical constitution, or our moral state. I shall proceed
to mention some of the difficulties in which the system of
Drs. Brown and Price is involved.
* Vol. III. p. 407. t Vide Review, p. 118.
BY THE CONCEPTION OP GOOD. 355
First, that system mistakes, I imagine, the real cause of
the pleasure, which the objects of our desires afford us.
This, indeed, appears to me the radical error. Objects
afford pleasure, such is the doctrine, because they have
been previously desired ; without previous desire they
could yield none ; thus desire is the spring of all the en-
joyments of man. Let us try this doctrine in relation to
sensitive pleasures. There are certain odours, tastes, and
sounds, which are universally pleasing. Why are they so ?
The proper answer would appear to be, that they are ren-
dered so by the constitution of the mind. The very first
time we experience them they yield pleasure, or rather
they are themselves happy states of mind : they need no
previous states to render them so. But, according to the
doctrine opposed, the sensation of sweetness, for instance,
must be desired before it can be agreeable, and this pre-
vious desire renders it agreeable. To my apprehension,
1 acknowledge, this is reversing the natural order of
things. Certain sensations are by nature agreeable ; their
return is desired, and desired because they are agreeable.
What the Creator of the mind has rendered agreeable to
it, he has inspired a desire to enjoy. The order opposed,
however, is the exact reverse of this. Certain desires
after certain sensations exist, in consequence of which
desires, the sensations are agreeable. And, since all de-
sires suppose the knowledge of their objects, — for we can
no more desire without desiring something, than regret
without regretting something, — it follows that the mind
has the knowledge of external objects, or of the sensa-
tions they produce, previous to any experience of the
sensations.
The views of both these writers appear to have been
governed by the circumstance, that we feel pain when we
do not obtain the object of our desire. That pain could
not have existed, it is assumed, without the previous ex-
istence of the desire ; and it is hence inferred that the
pleasure we enjoy when the object is obtained, is the re-
sult of the desire, or rather produced by it. The conclu-
sion here would not, however, be a legitimate one, even if
356 CLASS III. DESIRES ARE EXCITED
the premises were granted. It is possible that desire may
be an invariable accompaniment of the pleasme, without
being the cause of it. Certain objects may be the source
of pleasure to the mind, in consequence of its physical
constitution or moral state. They would have been the
source of pleasure, if the susceptibility of desire had not
formed an element of the mental constitution. That sus-
ceptibility may have been implanted, not to constitute, ac-
cording to the statements of Drs. Brown and Price, the
spring of all the enjoyments of man ; but to secure the
active pursuit of those objects, which have been so
adapted to the nature of the mind, as to minister those
enjoyments. It may be true that, in adult age, we receive
pleasure from no object which had not been previously
desired; because desire is an invariable concomitant of
our conception of an object as good. But it is surely the
object which is the cause of the pleasure, and not the
desire. The system opposed appears to represent all ob-
jects as naturally indifferent to the mind. We might
smell a rose, taste the juice of the peach, obtain know-
ledge, live in society, without deriving pleasure from one or
the other, if we had not the susceptibility of desire.
" They give its pleasure because we previously desired
them,^'' says Dr. Price ; so that the desire, and not the ob-
ject, is the cause of the pleasure. The true state of the
case appears, on the contrary, to me to be, that certain
objects are the sources of pleasure to the mind, in conse-
quence of its physical constitution or its moral state, and
that a susceptibiUty of desiring these objects has been im-
planted within us to stimulate us to pursue them.
Secondly, the statement of Dr. Brown does not appear
to supply a solution of the. fact, that dissatisfaction often
succeeds the acquisition of the object of desire. If desire
be the cause of the pleasure which the objects of our pur-
suit give us, pleasure ought invariably to result from their
acquisition. The effect should always succeed the cause.
Our hope of obtaining the object we desire might indeed
be disappointed, but we could not experience disappoint-
ment in it» To allesje that, when obtained, it does not an-
BV THE CONCEPTION OF GOOD. 357
swer our expectation, is to give up the system. It is to
admit that the pleasure is not the result of the desire —
that it is the consequence of the adaptation of an object
to our mental or moral nature ; so that, where this adapta-
tion does not exist, no degree of previous desire can im-
part to any object the power of conferring happiness, when
its nature becomes fully known to us.
Thirdly^ the statements of Dr. Brown appear to be at
variance with the fact, that the objects of desire are not
merely exceedingly numerous, but that, in many cases,
they stand in direct opposition to each other. The sensa-
tions of men are, for the most part, alike. What is scar-
let, or bitter, or fragrant to one, is so to another ; but what
is desirable to one, is often not desirable to another. Yet,
if the opinion of Dr. Brown, — " that it is the very nature
of the mind, as originally constituted with certain tenden-
cies, that some objects should appear to it immediately
desirable," — be correct, how should there be this simi-
larity ? How could our emotions, in this case, be more
susceptible of change, than our sensations? I grant that
desire is susceptible of change ; but on this fact I build
an argument, that it does not arise in the manner stated by
Dr. Brown. If there be an original tendency in any ob-
ject to awaken desire, (a tendency which is independent
of any view which the mind takes of it as adapted to give
pleasure,) it appears to me, that this tendency must ope-
rate as uniformly in producing desire, as the tendency of
a body to give us a certain sensation, is uniformly fol-
lowed, when the body is brought into contact with the ap-
propriate organ, by that sensation. I cannot account for
the great diversity of human desires, without supposing
that desire follows the notion of good, or is awakened by
the expectation of pleasure ; in that case, the different
mental attainments, and moral habits of men, sufficiently
explain the circumstance.
Fourthly, the change which is effected in the desires of
the same individual, in consequence of the different views
he is led to form of the influence of various objects and
events upon his happiness, seems to me incompatible with
368 CLASS III. DESIRES ARE EXCITED
the statements of Dr. Brown. Medicine is presented to a
sick person-^he does not desire it. Its probable influence
in removing his disease is explained to him — he now does
desire it. Can it be doubted that, in this case, the view of
private good excited the desire ? There are cases, also, in
which so mighty a moral revolution takes place in the
mind, that almost all the things which had been formerly
desired, become objects of dislike and avoidance ! How
is this, unless we suppose that, in consequence of the pro-
duction of a different taste, the former objects of desire are
no longer felt to be good, and, therefore no longer desired ?
How can the fact be reconciled with the doctrine which
affirms that certain objects are naturally desirable, as cer-
tain others are naturally sweet, or bitter, or fragrant ? In
short, it will be found, I imagine, impossible to account
for the phajnomena of desire, without supposing that the
emotion is originally awakened by that which is thought
likely to minister to our happiness — that, to render an ob-
ject desirable, it must have, or be conceived to have a per-
manent quality of goodness. I mean not that it must
" appear good" in the sense which Dr. Brown attaches to
the words ; but it must possess some conceived quality of
a physical or moral nature, which is, in itself, adapted to
promote our enjoyment. In this manner only, I apprehend,
can the emotion be originally awakened ; though I am wil-
ling to concede that it may now arise without any thought
of personal pleasure, through the influence of suggestion.
The conception of the object, and the desire, have so fre-
quently existed simultaneously, that the latter state may in-
stantly follow the former, by the ordinary laws of sugges-
tion, without that intervening thought of pleasure, which
was necessary, at first, to connect them together. The de-
sire of wealth may now arise without any thought of the
pleasures which wealth procures, through the influence of
the same laws ; yet it cannot surely be doubted, that it was
originally produced by a conception of the honour and in-
fluence, and happiness, which it secures to its possessor.
Finally, it is worthy of our inquiry, whetlier the senti-
ments of Dr. Brown ere not embarrassed by powerful dif-
BY THE CONCEPTION OF GOOD. 359
iiculties of a moral nature. When the desires of men are
placed upon forbidden objects, we admit that this fact does
not implicate the holiness of the Divine Being, since it is
the result of their depravity, leading them to call that
which is evil, good ; and hence to desire it. But if the va-
rious objects of desire are immediately desirable, and do
not become so by means of our conception of their adapt-
ation to minister to our good, — and if they are rendered
thus immediately desirable by the physical constitution of
the mind, — where must the blame be cast, but upon that
God who created the mind and gave it all its natural ten-
dencies ? How can a man be censured, if this be the case,
for desiring what is evil, any more than tasting gall to be
bitter, and honey sweet?
I cannot avoid suspecting that Dr. Bro^yn has confound-
ed two things which are surely not identical ; viz, the
pleasure which is involved in the act of desiring, and the
pleasure which the object desired affords, when our efforts
to obtain it are successful. I am led to form this opinion
by one of his ovvn illustrations. " We do not love for the
sake of the pleasure of loving ; in like manner we do not
desire for the sake of the pleasure of desiring." This is
doubtless true ; yet it does not follow, from hence, that wo
do not desire an object for the sake of the happiness it will
yield when obtained. That is a totally different thing.
To make the illustration bear upon the case in hand, it is
incumbent upon Dr. Brown to show, not merely that we
do not love for the sake of the pleasure of loving, but that
our love to any object precedes the feeling of any of its
qualities as agreeable to us, and even renders them agree-
able. Few, however, will venture to assert this. Love is
attracted by qualities which, in consequence of our mental
constitution, or moral state, are felt to be agreeable to us.
Desire, in like nianner, which is, perhaps, nothing more
than love itself, modified by the thought of the object as
absent, and by regret on that account, is awakened by the
conception of the happiness which would . result from its
possession.
*
360 CLASS III. DESIRE, WISH, HOPE, &C.
If Dr. Brown be in error on the subject of desire, his
mistake is radically different in its nature from that into
which Mr. Jeffrey appears to have fallen in his late cele-
brated article of Phrenology. In the opinion of Mr. J.
the mere apprehension of good would necessarily excite
hope or desire, without what he calls a faculty of desire ;
^. e. according to the phraseology which we adopt, without
a distinct susceptibility of experiencing the emotion of
hope or desire. Dr. Brown supposes, on the other hand,
that the emotion may arise without a previous apprehen-
sion of good. Both appear to me to be mistaken. The
mere apprehension of good would not originate the emo-
tion of desire, without a distinct susceptibility ; the suscep-
tibility would not, on the other hand, be developed, without
the apprehension of good.
Now as desire is excited by the idea of good, we may
admit as many classes of desires as there are species of
good to be expected and desired. The classification, then,
which we adopt, is not built upon any radical difference
in the emotion itself, but in the objects which excite it.
Yet though desire, whatever be its object, is radically
the same emotion, it may exist in different degrees or gra-
dations, which may be very properly marked by distinctive
names, such as wish, hope, expectation, confidence, &c.
By most preceding writers the terms just mentioned have
been regarded as representative of so many radically dif-
ferent emotions ; at any rate, they have not been con-
sidered as merely denoting different degrees of the same
emotion, " Desire," we have been told, " always implies
that the object desired is attainable ; and this remark," it
is added, " suggests an important distinction between wish
and desire. Wish has been sometimes termed inactive de-
sire. Desire has been considered as the union of wish
and hope. A man may wish what he has no hope of ob-
taining ; because hope, if rational, always supposes the
possibility of the attainment of the object. Wish, like de-
sire, may arise from the view of something good ; but be-
cause that good is not deemed attainable, it does not call
forth activity and eflbrt. A beggar may wish to be a king-
DENOTE THE SAME EMOTION. 361
and a man to fly ; but in neither case can it be said tliat
these things are desired. A wish may refer to the past ;
but desire invariably regards the future. A sick man may
be said to wish for health ; but we do not say he desires it.
He desires to use the means requisite for attaining it, be-
cause they are within his reach. But the success of those
means does not depend upon his power, and therefore he
is only said to wish for it."
Now, it is conceded, that this writer has stated, with suf-
ficient accuracy, the manner in which these terms are em-
ployed — and shown that they could not, in the various
cases supposed, be substituted for each other. But he has
failed to prove that the words wish, desire, hope, &c. de-
note emotions generically distinct ; because, marking as
they do, different degrees of the same feeling, they are ob-
viously incapable of transposition. The desire of a beg-
gar to be a king is so powerfully repressed by a conviction
of the impossibility of attaining to the possession of regal
power, that it has not opportunity to grow, so to speak, in-
to hope ; he merely wishes it ; it is desire in the positive
degree. The illustration of Dr. Brown, is, we think, per-
fectly conclusive on this point. " Our hopes, wishes, ex-
pectations, &c. do not form classes of feelings essentially
distinct from our general emotions of desire ; but are
merely those emotions themselves in all their variety, ac-
cording as we conceive that there is more or less likelihood
of our obtaining the particular objects which we are desi-
rous of obtaining. In a competition of any kind, in which
there are many candidates, there is perhaps some one can-
didate who is aware that he has very little interest, and
who has, therefore, scarcely more than a mere wish of suc-
cess. He canvasses the electors, and he finds, to his sur-
prise, perhaps, that many votes are given to him. He no
longer wishes merely, he hopes ; and, with every new vote
that is promised, his hope grows more vivid. A very foW
votes additional, convert the hope into expectation ; and,
when a decided majority is engaged to him by promise,
even expectation is too weak a word to express the emo-
tion which he feels : — it is trust, confidence, reliance, or
46
36^ CLASS III. DESIRE.
whatever other word we may choose to express that modifi^
cation of desire which is not the joy of absolute certainty,
like the actual attainment of an agreeable object, and yet
scarcely can be said to differ from certainty. In this series
of emotions, nothing has occurred to modify them, but a
mere increase of probability in the successive stages ; and
the same scale of probabilities which admits of being thus
accurately measured in an election that is numbered by
votes, exists truly, though perhaps less distinctly, in every
other case of desire, in which we rise from a mere wish, to
the most undoubting confidence.'"*
The word Desire may, then, be regarded as a general
term, inclusive of all our emotions of this kind, whatever
be their objects or gradations. Wish, hope, expectation,
confidence, merely exhibit different degrees of intensity in
the same feeling. It is, therefore, perfectly correct, philo-
sophically speaking, to say that a beggar desires to be a
king — his wish to enjoy regal power is desire — though we
cannot say he hopes to possess it; hope is desire in the
comparative degree, and to that degree of emotion he has
not attained.
It may here be observed, that whatever be the object of
desire, the general feeling admits of all the gradations to
which we have now referred. We may Wish, hope, expect,
6lc, to obtain knowledge, or wealth, or honour. Dr. Brown
states, that when our desires become very vivid, or very
permanent, they are called passions, which constitute thus
no distinct class of feelings.
The term desire is said to be sometimes synonymous with
command. This is the case when the expression of desire
should carry with it the force of a command ; as when a
parent desires his child to perform a certain action ; so
that, in fact, there is no change in the meaning of the word.
The preceding statements lead me to advert a little to
the nature of the will, or the power of volition, as it is
called. I shall first, however, glance at the doctrine?
which have been propounded in relation to it.
* P. 38q.
STATEMENTS CONCERNING TfiE WILL. 3163
By most writers on Mental Science, the will has been
regarded as a distinct and original power of the mind.
Mr. Locke gives us the following description of volitiono
" It is," says he, " an act of the mind knowingly exerting
that dominion it takes itself to have over any part of the
man, by employing it in, or withholding it from any par-
ticular action." This is, indeed, rather a definition of
what writers of this class would consider an act of the
will, than of the will itself; but it intimates, with sufficient
clearness, the notion he entertained of the latter.
Dr. Reid is more explicit. " Every man," says he, " is
conscious of a power to determine in things which he con-
ceives to depend upon his determinations. To this power
we give the name of Will ; and, as it is usual in the opera-
tions of the mind to give the same name to the power,
and to the act of that power, the term Will is often put to
signify the act of determining, which more properly is
called volition. Volition, therefore, signifies the act of
willing and determining ; and will is put indifferently to
signify either the power of willing, or the act." The same
author tells us that, " by preceding writers, the term WilF
was made to signify not only our determination to act or
not to act, but every motive or excitement to action,"* a
fact which shows how little regard was formerly paid to
precision ; since the error is not less than that which con-
founds the rose, with the sensation of fragrance produced
by it, or even with the power of sensation itself.
Having thus exhibited the will as a distinct faculty of
the mind, Dr. Reid proceeds to state that it differs, in va-
rious respects, from desire ; and is, in some cases, directly
opposed to it. He speaks, indeed, of three acts of the
mind — an act of will, of desire, and of command — which
are sometimes confounded, but which he affirms to be dif-
ferent ; and he thus developes his views with respect to the
nature of that difference. '* What we will," he says, " must
be an action, and our own action ; what we desire may not
be our own action, it may be no action at all. We may
be said to desire meat, or drink, but not to will it. A man
* Vol. lU. p. ^i .
364 CLASS in. — desire
desires that his children may be happy, and that they may
behave well. Their being happy is no action at all ; their
behaving well is no action of his, but theirs."
And even with respect to our own actions, there is said
to be a distinction between desire and will ; for we may
desire what we do not will, and will what we do not desire j
nay, what we have a great aversion to.
Command is thus distinguished from will. The object
of will, is some action of our own ; the object of command,
some action of another person. Command is also a social
act of the mind, having no existence but by a communica-
tion of thought, to some intelligent being ; and implying,
therefore, a belief that there is such a being. Desire and
will are said on the contrary, to be solitary acts, which do
not imply any such communication or belief.*
Some of the preceding statements appear to me unfound-
ed, and others to convey little or no meaning. " Command
is a social act of the mind ;" what is the meaning of "com-
mand" here? Is the term intended to denote the state of
mind which directly prompts the words in which the com-
mand is issued ? On two accounts it is impossible that
this can be the meaning of Dr. Reid ; first, such a state of
mind is no more a social act of the mind than an act of
desire, or an act of will ; secondly, Dr. Reid adds, that a
command can have no existence but by a communication
of thought to some intelligent being. Now an act or state
of mind, prompting to the communication of thought, can-
not exist by the communication. It is perfectly manifest
that by "command" Dr. Reid meant, the words in which
the command is embodied. In this sense a command may
be allowed to be a social act ; but, unfortunately for the
Doctor's system, it is an act of the organs of speech, and
not an act of the mind at all. To represent command, in-
deed, as an act of the mind, is to use words without mean-
ing. A command is a desire, or a determination, or voli-
tion, embodied in words. No command exists till this de-
termination is clothed in a verbal dress ; previous to the
* Vide Vol. III. p. 77.
AND WILL IDENTICAL. 3(55
moment in which it is thus clothed, it differs in no respect
from our other, and our ordinary volitions.
The doctrine of Dr. Brown on this subject is radically
different. A volition, according to his statements, is a de-
sire springing up in peculiar circumstances, and so appro-
priating to itself a particular name ; it supposes, therefore,
no distinct and original faculty — nothing more than that
general susceptibility which is the source of all our emo-
tions of this class. On various accounts certain actions,
i. e, certain motions of some of the bodily members, may
be regarded in the light of a good, and so become objects
of desire. But as the actual motions follow instantly, by
Divine appointment, our desires to perform them, these de-
sires perish, of course, in the moment of their birth. It is
to desires of this kind that we give the name of Volitions ;
but they are not specifically different from our permanent
desires — all of which, but for the circumstance of their per-
manence, would be denominated volitions. " We are
said," says Dr. Brown, " to desire wealth, and to will the
motion of our hand ; but if the motion of our hand had not
followed the desire of moving it, we should then have been
said not to will, but to desire its motion ;" as, we may add,
is the case with the paralytic. " The distance, or the imme-
diate attainableness of the good, is thus the sole difference ;
but, as the words arc at present used, they have served to
produce a belief, that of the same immediate good, in the
case of any simple bodily movement, there are both a de-
sire and a volition, that the will which moves the hand, for
instance, is something different from the desire of moving
it ; — the one particular motion being preceded by two feel-
ings, a volition, and a desire. Of this complex mental pro-
cess, however, we have no consciousness ; the desire of
moving a limb, in the usual circumstances of health and
freedom, being always directly followed by its motion."*
1 have little doubt that the doctrine of Dr. Brown will
ul timately approve itself to the judgment of every candid
man. It is supported by the evidence of consciousness.
* Cause and Effect, pp. 52, 3.
iJt)() CLASS III. DESIRE
What is that volition (as it is called) to move the limbs for
some specific purpose, but a desire to move them, in order
to secure the accomplishment of that purpose ?
It will be necessary, however, to examine the arguments
on which Dr. Reid grounds his statement, that, even with
reference to our own actions, desire and will are not iden-
tical. This is rendered more especially necessary, by the
appearance of a note attached to Mr. Dugald Stewart's
third volume of " Elements of the Philosophy of the Hu-
man Mind,"— a note which^ on Mr. Stewart's account, is
to be regretted. There is perhaps no one who would not
concede to this distinguished writer, that his judgment on
any point in mental science is entitled to high considera-
tion ; but it is painful to see that, in opposing an opinion of
Dr. Brown, Mr. Stewart does not seem to think it neces-
sary for him to say more, than to pronounce that opinion
" a slip" — taking no notice whatever of the argument by
which it is supported. On referring again to the note, I
find I must correct myself. Mr. Stewart does say more.
He tells us that he took the trouble, many years ago, to
point out this error to Dr. Brown ; and he further expresses
his regret that the latter should, in these circumstances,
have been so unreasonable as not to abandon it ! Whether
this is the precise style which even Mr. Stewart is entitled
to hold with regard to Dr. Brown, the philosophical world
will doubtless form its own opinion.
The substance of Mr^ Locke's objection against the
doctrine that desire and will are synonymous terms, to which
Mr. Stewart refers, is contained in the statements of Dr.
Reid, which we now proceed to examine. " We may de-
sire," he says, " what we do not will, and will what we
do not desire." In support of this assertion, he adds—
" A man athirst has a strong desire to drink, but for some
particular reason he determines not to gratify his desire.
A judge, from a regard to justice, and to the duty of his
office, dooms a criminal to die, while from humanity^^)r
particular affection, he desires that he should live. A
man, for health, may take a nauseous draught, for which
he has no desire, but a great aversion. Desire, therefore,
AND WILL IDENTICAL. 367
even when its object is some action of our own, is only an
incitement to will, but it is not volition. The determina-
tion of the mind may be not to do what we desire to do.
But as desire is often accompanied by will, we are apt to
overlook ihe distinction between them."*
On these statements I observe,
Firsts that they appear to be self-contradictory, even on
Dr. Reid's own principles. Granting, for the sake of ar-
gument, that volition and desire are two distinct and origi-
nal principles, it will not be denied by him that both are
awakened by the conception of good. We will, that
which appears good ; we desire, that which appears good.
How, then, can that good which produces volition, fail to
excite desire ? How can the determination of the mind
be to do what we do not desire to do ? If the man wills
to take the , medicine, does he not desire, all things consi-
dered, to take it? Is it v0i better for him, upon the whole,
to take it, than to refrain from taking it ? Does he not
think so ? In a state of health it might be an evil to take
the medicine, but in the hour of sickness it becomes a
good ; and yet. Dr. Reid would have us believe, that, re-
garding as he must do the neglect of the medicine as an
evil, he yet desires to neglect it ; i. e, in other terms, he is
averse to that which appears good, and desires that which
appears evil. Credit Judwus Apella !
Secondly, I observe, that the statements of Dr. Reid
proceed, it is conceived, on a misunderstanding of the
cases to which he refers. There is an opposition, he af-
firms, between will and desire, in the cases just mentioned.
To this it is replied, that there may be an opposition be-
tween the ultimate volition to take the medicine, pass the
sentence, &c., and the habitual desires of these individu-
als — yea, an opposition between this volition, and the al-
most immediately preceding desire ; but there can be no
opposition, it is imagined, between this volition, at the
moment when it exists, and the desire of the individual at
that moment. They must then agree ; they are identical.
* Vol. III. pp. 75, 6.
368 CLASS III. DESIRE
" The determination of the mind, says Dr. Brown, " never
is, and never can be, to do what, in the particular circum-
stances of the moment, we do not desire to do. When we
take a nauseous draught, there is a disHke, indeed, of the
sensation which follows the motion," {i, e. of taking it)
" but there is no dislike of the motion itself, which alone
depends upon our will, and which is desired by us, not
from any love of the disagreeable sensation that follows
it," — " but from our greater dislike of that continuance of
bad health, which we suppose to be the probable conse-
quence of omitting the motion. The desire of moving
the hand, and the muscles of deglutition, — or, to use a
word which Dr. Reid would have preferred, the will to
move them, — is a state of mind as different, and as dis-
tinguishable, from the dislike of bad health, as from the
dislike of the draught. It is a new feeling, to which a
wide view of many circumstanc%! has given birth, — a de-
sire not of pleasure in the draught, but of less evil, in one
of two unavoidable evils."*
This is Dr. Brown's " slip." I confess I should be glad
to meet with many of a similar kind, in the writings of other
philosophers. It will not be necessary to examine at length
the other instances adduced by Dr. Reid; we shall briefly
refer to them. A judge, he argues, wills the death of a
criminal, but he does not desire it ; and, therefore, will and
desire are not synonymous terms. We answer, he did not
desire it a short time previous to the moment in which he
passed the sentence. Two things, before the ultimate de-
cision of his mind, appeared good to him — to spare the of-
fender — and to preserve his character as an upright judge.
After struggling for the ascendency for some time, perhaps,
the latter consideration triumphed ; it appeared desirable
to him, upon the whole, to pass the sentence, and from that
desire the sentence actually flowed. There is here then no
opposition between will and desire. Dr. Reid has evi-
dently confounded the habitual desire of the judge, or his
desire a short time previous to his ultimate decision, with
* Cause and Effect, pp. 62, 3.
ROMANS VII. 15. EXPLAINED.
the desire of the moment, when, as the mouth of the law,
he warned the criminal to prepare for his approaching fate.
Again, in the case of an individual compelled to support
a weight in his outstretched arm, under fear of a more
painful punishment if he draw it back. Dr. Reid contends
that there is an opposition between will and desire. " He
wills," says he, " the very pain which he does not desire."
This statement, we reply, is unfounded even on his own
principles ; — the pain not being an action of his own, not
being even an action at all, the individual cannot, accord-
ing to Dr. Raid's own account of volition,* be said to will
it. And the fact is that, on no principles, can the pain be
the direct object of volition. The thing directly deter-
mined upon is, not the endurance of pain, but the conti-
nued extension of the arm. He wills this as the least of two
evils; and, surely, if there were a distinction between will
and desire, he must desire it too ; or it would follow, that
the mind is constituted to desire a great evil, rather than a
comparatively insignificant one.
The preceding statements explain the language of the
apostle, "For what I would, that do 1 not." Some indi-
viduals, imbibing the principles of Dr. Reid, have main-
tained, from this passage, that Christians sometimes com-
mit sin in opposition to their wills at the very moment of
committing it ! They seem to imagine that the object of
temptation, operating upon depraved propensities, stimu-
lates desire, and that desire becomes at length so vehement,
as to draw them into rebelHon, although volition is actually
on the side of rectitude. The doctrine advanced in the
preceding pages, proves that this can never be the case.
The desire to perform the sinful action, in consequence of
which it is performed, is the will to perform it. The ha-
bitual will of a Christian may be on the side of obedience ;
it actually is so. Where this is not the case, the Christian
character does not exist ; but to affirm that the will is on the
side of obedience, at the moment of disobedience, is to
give utterance to a sentiment, all the absurdities involved
* Vide p. 424.
47
say CLAbJi 111. HOW THESE STATEMENTS
in which I cannot now stop to unfold. There can be no
rational doubt that the opposition which is too frequently
found to exist between the habitual and occasional deter-
minations of Christians, is the subject of affirmation in the
passage to which reference has been made.
There is, then, no radical difference between will and
desire. The former term is, indeed, a very convenient
word to denote " those desires which have instant termi-
nation in a muscular ^motion, which is their object ; and
to distinguish them from such as relatft to objects not di-
rectly and immediately attainable, and, therefore, not ac-
companied with the belief of direct and immediate attain-
ment ; but still it must not be forgotten, that the mental
part of the sequence, the momentary feeling, which exists
in our consciousness alone, and ceases almost as soon as it
arises, is a desire that differs not from our other desires,
more than those others mutually differ.*
The important bearing of this view of the nature of the
will, or of volition, upon the philosophical question of Li-
berty and Necessity, as well as upon certain keenly con-
tested theological topics, will be apparent to all my readers.
Such is the constitution of the mind, that every thing
which appears good, (and many things appear good, or
the contrary, according to the moral state of an individual,)
excites the emotion of desire ; i. e, it produces what we
call volition, when the desire terminates in muscular ac-
tion. It produces volition, for the same reason that the
odoriferous particles of a rose originate the sensation of
sweetness, viz. because God has so formed the mind, that
the events to which we have now referred, shall ever be in
immediate sequence. In connexion with this view of the
matter, how is it, then, possible to hold the notion of the
self-determining power of the will ? Mr. Stewart might
well say that Dr. Brown's doctrines, on the subject of voli.
tion, if true, " settle the question concerning the liberty of
the will." For who would even think of talking of the
siBlt-determining power of desire — the self-determining
* Cause and Effect, p. 55—57.
BEAR UPON THE LIBERTY OF THE WILL. 371
power of love, hope, joy — the self-determining power of
sensation, &c. ? A volition, or determination, when freed
from the mystery in which it has been too generally in-
volved, is found to be nothing more than a desire — a state
of mind which can no more arise without a cause, than a
sensation, or perception ; — and a state of mind, which
must as infallibly arise, I may add, in the circumstances
which are adapted to produce it, as the feeling of fra-
grance, when the odoriferous particles of a rose are
brought into contact with the organ. To say that the
mind possesses a self-determining power, is to affirm that
volition, i. e, desire, may exist without a cause, (and if
any thing can exist without a cause, why may not the uni-
verse itself?) — that the mind may be affected without any
thing to affect it, and drawn without any thing to draw it.
To maintain that, when it appears to us better^ upon the
whole, to put certain muscles in motion, than to allow them
to remain at rest, no desire, i. e, no volition to move them
may arise, is equivalent with the declaration that, when the
particles of the rose are brought into contact with the or-
gan, in a sound state, there may be no sensation. To ex-
hibit it as a matter of choice with us whether we will submit
to the influence of motives, when their moral power is dis-
cerned by the mind, is equivalent with stating that the mind
chooses whether it will receive sensation in the case referred
to — than which few things can be more absurd. To sub-
mit mentally to the influence of inducements to virtuous
conduct, can mean nothing more than to have volition,!, e.
desire, awakened by them. To choose to submit to their
influence is, therefore, to will, i, e. desire, the existence of
will or desire ; it is to choose to practise the conduct en-
joined.
There is not much reason to doubt that the bearing of
Dr. Brown's statements upon this subject is partly the
reason, at any rate, of Mr. Stewart's attack upon them.
They certainly " settle the question concerning the liberty
of the will," but they do it in a manner which is not the
most agreeable to the latter gentleman. "The philo-
sophical speculations of the Scotch metaphysicians," says
372 CLASS III. DESIRE.
the Rev. J. Gilbert,* (including in his charge Dr. Reid,
Mr. Stewart, &c., and most absurdly, as well as unjustly,
connecting Dr. Brown with them,) are adapted to subvert
the theological creed of their country." The statements
of Dr. B. must be especially obnoxious to him.
CONSIDERATION OF OUR PARTICULAR DESIRES.
THE DESIRE OF CONTINUED EXISTENCE.
This is not very commonly included in the catalogues
of our desires ; though, as it is one of the most general
of our prospective emotions, it is not a little singular that
it should have been omitted. It has, perhaps, been
thought that existence is not a good per se ; and so does
not merit, any more than gold, a place among what we
regard as the natural objects of desire. I am, however,
disposed to think that life is, in itself, regarded as a bless-
ing ; so that existence, as mere existence, may be desired :
hence the tenacity with which some individuals cling to
life, even when it is to them a cup of almost unmingled
bitterness. Existence is, however, doubtless chiefly valu-
able to us " as that which may be rendered happy ;" and,
therefore, we sometimes find a recklessness of life, among
those who are bereft of hope, as well as happiness — a
recklessness which sometimes leads them to court danger,
and, not unfrequently, to lay violent hands upon them-
selves.
And, if a susceptibility of this desire constitutes a part
of our physical constitution, the desire of life cannot be
improper in itself. It is, doubtless, unjustifiable when it
is not kept within due bounds — when it becomes the para-
mount and governing principle — when it leads us to
neglect duty, and, d fortiori, to commit sin for the pur-
pose of preserving it ; — and when the approaching glories
* Vide Memoirs of Dr. E. Williams, Note.
THE DESIRE OF SOCIETV. 373
of eternity do not render us even willing, if it be the ap-
pointment of God, " to depart, and be with Christ, which
is far better."
So far, indeed, is the love of life from being in itself
improper, that it is a principle of great practical impor-
tance and utility. "Its existence bespeaks," says Dr.
Brown, " the kindness of that Being, who, in giving to
man duties which he has to continue for many years to
discharge, in a world which is preparatory for the nobler
world that is afterward to receive him, has not left him to
feel the place in which he is to perform the duties allotted
to him, as a place of barren and gloomy exile." To a
Christian, who has attained " the full assurance of hope,"
how intolerable must this exile have appeared, had it not
been counterbalanced, in some degree, by the love of life ;
if duty had not been neglected, how much of that inter-
est, and ardour, and zeal, which is happily now sometimes
manifested, might never have been displayed !
THE DESIRE OP SOCIETY.
"Man is born in society," says Dr. Brown, "depen-
dent on it for the preservation of his infant being, and for
the comfort and happiness of his existence in other years.
It is to be the source of all the love which he feels, of all
the love which he excites, and, therefore, of almost all the
desires and enjoyments which he is capable of feeling.
He owes to it," he afterward tells us, " all his strength,
as well as all his happiness." " Man," says another
writer, " has many feelings to gratify by associating with
other beings possessing intelligence and thought, and the
pleasure connected with their gratification would lead
him, independently of an original desire for society, to
seek for the means of this enjoyment.''*
From statements like these we might have expected the
conclusion to be drawn, that we have no original desire of
society. Were there indeed reason to suppose that so-
ciety, without the existence of such a desire, would not
* Dewar's Moral Philosophy, Vol. I. p. 467.
374 CLASS III. DESIRE OF SOCIETY.
be preserved, nor even formed, we should be constrained
to embrace the opinion that God has rendered us the in-
stinctive subjects of an emotion which is so important to
our existence, as well as to our happiness. But if the en-
joyments which society brings would lead us to seek and
desire it, it is obviously less certain that we have an origi-
nal desire of it ; because we have less cause for such a
desire. Mr. Stewart, however, considers our desire of
society instinctive. " Abstracting from those affections
which interest us in the happiness of others, and from all
the advantages which we ourselves derive from the social
union, we are led by a natural and instinctive desire, to
associate with our own species." Dr. Brown also says,
that " of a society to which man thus owes all his strength,
as well as all his happiness, it is not wonderful that na-
ture should have formed him desirous ; and it is in har-
mony with that gracious provision which we have seen
realized so effectually in our other emotions, that she has
formed him to love the society which profits him, without
thinking of the profit which it affords."* I cannot re-
gard it, for the reasons mentioned above, as certain, yet I
am not anxious to deny, that God has rendered society,
like the fragrance of a rose, delightful in itself; so that it
may be desired, as soon as the mind can form any con-
ception of it, on its own account, and not merely on ac-
count of the blessings which follow in its train. Still I
conceive it is desired because it is delightful. The order
of sequence is, I am constrained to think, in opposition to
Dr. Brown, the following ; Society gives pleasure (by vir-
tue of the mental constitution ;) and is, therefore, desired
— and not Society is desired, and, therefore, gives plea-
sure. It is observable that Dr. Brown substitutes the
word " love," for " desire," in the passage just referred
to. He says, " we are formed to love" (not desire) " the
society," &c. &c. Now love to an object, as we have
seen, does not precede the feeling of its qualities as agree-
able, and so render them agreeable. The desire, or the
* Vol. in. pp. 420, 1.
THE DESIRE OP KNOWLEDGE. 375
love, of society cannot precede the feeling, or the concep-
tion, of its agreeableness, and so produce that feeling ;
for, in that case, it would be rendered a good to us hy de-
sire, and so could not be desired as a good, — the desire
having previously arisen. And, in that case, I may fur-
ther add, every thing that is desired must give pleasure,
which is contrary to fact. The truth seems to be, that
God has formed us capable of desiring any thing which
either is, or appears, good for us, physically or morally
considered ; — that some things are, by virtue of our men-
tal constitution, physical goods — and that society may be,
and probably is, among the number. If this be what is
meant by an instinctive desire of society, I have no wish
to oppose the statement.
THE DESIRE OP KNOWLEDGE.
Few principles of our nature are more powerful in their
operation than the emotion which we thus designate ; nor
are there any whose influence is either earlier or later felt.
It may bear different names, in different stages of life ; — it
may be called curiosity, in the child — and desire to investi-
gate the causes of things, in the sage ; but the principle, or
the emotion, is the same in all. " It is developed accord-
ing to the order of our wants and necessities ; being con-
fined, in the first instance, exclusively to those properties of
material objects, and those laws of the material world, an
acquaintance with which is essential to the preservation of
our animal existence." At a later period of life, no indi-
vidual is exempt from its influence ; yet, either in conse-
quence of constitutional differences, or of diversified cir-
cumstances, its operations are strikingly various — an occur-
rence from which the world is a material gainer, as it lays
the foundation of all the advantages derived by society from
the division, and subdivision, of intellectual labour.
" The desire of knowledge," says Mr. Stewart, " is not
a selfish principle. As the object of hunger is not happi-
ness, but food ; so the object of curiosity is not happiness.
376 CLASS III. DESIRE.
but knowledge."* Although this phraseology is certainly
unusual, and not very definite, Mr. Stewart appears to
mean, by the object of hunger, and of curiosity, the thing
desired. Now I fully concede to him, that the direct " ob-
jects of desire," in the cases specified, are food and know-
ledge — that God has made knowledge (like the fragrance
of a rose) delightful in itself; so that it may be desired, and
frequently is desired, on its own account, and not merely
for the sake of the advantages which it secures to its pos-
sessor. I cannot, however, concur in the opinion of Dr.
Brown, that the desire of knowledge precedes the feeling of
knowledge as delightful, and renders it delightful. " The
continuance of an interesting narrative," says Dr. Brown,
'' affords pleasure, because it gratifies curiosity." Now as
curiosity is nothing but desire, the assertion involves the
mistake, as I cannot but regard it, that all objects afford
pleasure, because they have been previously desired. The
fact, on the contrary, appears to me to be, that, by the
constitution of the mind, knowledge, like the flavours, and
odours, &c. to which I formerly referred, is agreeable to it ;
and would have been agreeable, had there been no curi-
osity implanted to stimulate to the pursuit of knowledge,
not to render it delightful. The tale to which Dr. Brown
refers, conveying information, is itself delightful ; the mind
is so formed that it cannot be otherwise ; and, therefore,
desire arises to hear its conclusion ; because what is de-
lightful to the mind, God has formed the mind to desire.
And it is because curiosity, or desire, is thus necessarily
awakened to hear the whole of the narrative, of which only
a small part has been laid before us, that we are apt to as-
cribe the pleasure which the remaining part gives, to the
curiosity, instead of to the narrative itself, or rather to the
knowledge which that narrative conveys.
The results of knowledge are, however, delightful, as well
as knowledge itself The possession of extended informa-
tion gives a man many advantages over others — lifts him
to distinction and honour — enables him to gratify many
* Outlipes, p. 86.
THE DESIRE OF KNOWLEDGE. 377
powerful propensities of his nature ; so that, though know-
ledge may be desired for its own sake, it may also be de-
sired on account of these collateral benefits. It is very
possible, accordingly, to imagine that we are pursuing
knowledge for its own sake, when, in fact, our activity is
stimulated merely by love to its results ; and I greatly fear
We must make the humbling confession, that comparatively
little of the midnight oil which is consumed in the chase,
is a pure and disinterested sacrifice to the love of know-
ledge. " The connexion," says one, " between the desire
of knowledge, and the desire of society, is remarkable ; the
former is generally, if not always, accompanied with a wish
to impart communications to others, and thus curiosity,
and the social principles, are united. Hence it has been
doubted, whether a man's curiosity would ever be sufficient
to engage him in a course of study, if entirely secluded from
the enjoyments and the prospects of society." And ano-
ther writer adds — ^^ The desire of communicating our know-
ledge is so closely connected with the desire of acquiring
it, that few writers have given it a separate consideration*
Though the pleasure accompanying it may be traced to
the lively exercise of our social affections, or to the feeling
of superiority which accompanies the conscious possession
of knowledge, it is not the less true that it forms a power-
ful motive to perseverance in the most laborious study. It
might seem, indeed, that the philosopher, whose labours
are to benefit future ages rather than his own, is not act-
ing under the influence of this stimulant, and that his only
incentives are the desire of knowledge, the wish to do good,
and, perhaps, the ambition of posthumous reputation ; but
even he would not think it worth his while to pursue his
studies with so much steadiness and application, if he en-
joyed not in hope the satisfaction of enlightening and be-
nefitting his fellow-creatures. He anticipates the future,
and, by an illusion not unnatural to man, he spreads his
conscious existence over it, as he converses, in his writings,
with the people of succeeding generations."*
* Dewar's Moral Philosophy, Vol. I. p. 405,
48
378 CLASS III. THE DESIRE OP POWER.
THE DESIRE OF POWER.
This emotion is excited by the delight which the God of
nature has rendered power capable of affording to the
mind, and by all the good which the possession of it can
secure to us. We have an original desire of power, if, by
that statement it is meant that power is per se, indepen-
dently of all its grateful train of consequences, delightful
to the mind. There is no more mystery in this, than in the
fact that light is pleasant to the eye, and the juice of a
peach to the taste, — all must be resolved into Divine ap-
pointment. The consciousness of power arises on the
production of an effect, and the ability to produce effects
is a source of happiness, before we have learned that it
may be rendered subservient to our enjoyment. " It is not
merely," says Dr. Brown, " the noise and the shaking of
the rattle that delights the infant, but the shaking of the
rattle by his own hands ; an event which gives him the con-
sciousness of power, and which, as it cannot delight him
from the reflection of any benefit which that power may
be made to yield to himself, must be delightful in itself."
The account which this writer has given of the origin
and progress of this desire is singularly beautiful. It be-
gins, according to his statements, with the pleasure pro-
duced by the conscious possession of physical energies.
The infant is proud of being able to shake the bells of his
rattle, — the school-boy, of his power to leap further, or to
run faster than his companions. Here superior physical
energies of his^own, awaken delight; the transition is very
easy,, to superior instruments, or agents. We look on what
they do for us, as what we do ourselves, since they are ours^
as much as our own limbs are ours. Hence the boy is
proud of having the best top, or bat ; " it is a sort of pro-
longation of the hand which wields it, obeying our will with
the same ready ministry as that with which our hands them-
selves, more directly move at our bidding." Hence men
learn to be proud of having the best horses, dogs, &c.
They appropriate their actions to themselves, and so re^
THE DESIRE OF POWER. 379
joice in their superior power. And, having thus appropri-
ated to themselves the actions of brutes, it is not difficult
to appropriate what is done by others of their own species,
when they have acted under their control and command.
" Every new being," says Dr. Brown, " who obeys us, is
thus, as it were, a new faculty, or number of faculties,
added to our physical constitution ; and it is not wonder-
ful, then, that we should desire to extend the number of
these adventitious faculties, more than that we should avail
ourselves of the instruments of the optician for quickening
our sight, or of a carriage for conveying us over distances,
which it would have been impossible for us to travel with
the same velocity on foot."*
And as power is thus originally delightful, every thing
which puts us in possession of power, and enables us to
exercise it, may become an object of desire. Knowledge
is directly desirable, being, as we have seen, in itself the
source of happiness. But knowledge is also the source of
influence. The power possessed by men of distinguished
talents and attainments, over others, is prodigious. The
empire of Aristotle over the world of mind was, for a long
period, not less complete and despotic, than the sway of
any of the tyrants of antiquity. Knowledge may be ac-
cordingly desired as an instrument of power.
The pleasure which attends the communication of know-
ledge may result from our love of power. The conveyer
of a mere article of intelligence, feels himself superior, on
this account, to his auditors. He possesses power over
them, power to awaken curiosity, to excite fear, to kindle
joy or transport.
The gift of eloquence may also be desired on the same
principle ; for " in no case," says Dr. Dewar, " is the power
of man over man more wonderful, and in general more en-
viable, than in the influence which the orator exercises over
the thoughts and passions of a great multitude ; while with-
out the force of the splendour of rank, he moves their will,
and bends their desire to the accomplishment of his own
* Vol. in, p. 448.
380 CLASS III. DESIRE.
purpose. This is a power far more elevated than that
which only reaches to the bodies of men ; it extends to the
affections and intentions of the heart, and seems as if it
were capable of arresting the trains of our ideas, and of
awakening or creating the feelings that are suited to its
designs. The conscious possession of a power so vast, and
so peculiar, is accompanied with a degree of pleasure pro-
portionably great, and it may be supposed that the plea-
sure will prompt to the frequent exercise of the superiority
from whence it springs."*
Rank and elevated station, may also be desired on the
same principle, for they confer the power " of forcing obe-
dience even upon the reluctant, and, in many cases of win-
ning obedience, from that blind respect which the multi-
tude are always sufficiently disposed to feel for the follies,
as for the virtues, of those above them," When the desire
of power assumes this shape, it takes the name of ambi-
tion ; — a word which, together with the state of mind indi-
cated by it, is most unpopular; because, in thinking of
ambition, " we dwell on the great and visible desolations
to which, in a few striking cases, it gives rise, — when the
ambitious man has the power of leading armies, and forcing
nations to be slaves, and of achieving all that iniquity,
which the audacious heart of man may have had the guilt
and folly of considering as greatness." It is, however, of
great importance to remember the remarks of Dr. Brown.
"We forget or neglect, merely because they are less strik-
ing than those rare evils, the immediate beneficial influence
which the passion is constantly exercising in the conduct
of the humbler individuals, whose power, under the preven-
tive guardianship of laws, is limited to actions that scarce-
ly can fail to be of service to the community. All the works
of human industry are, in a great measure, referable to an
ambition of some sort ; that, however humble it may seem
to minds of prouder views, is yet relatively as strong as the
ambition of the proudest. We toil, that we may have some
little influence, or some little distinction, however small
* Vol. I. p. 421.
THE DESIEE OP POWER. 381
the number of our inferiors may be ; and the toils which
raise to the petty distinction, are toils of public, though
humble utility ; and even the means of distinction which
the opulent possess, are chiefly in the support of those who,
but for the pride which supports them, while it seems only
to impose on them the luxury of ministering to all the vari-
ous wants of their luxury, would have little to hope from a
charity that might not be easy to be excited by the appear-
ance of mere suffering, in those slight and ordinary degrees,
in which it makes its appeal rather to the heart than to the
senses. It is this slight influence of the passion, contribu-
ting to general happiness, where general happiness is not
even an object of thought, which it is most delightful to
trace ; and it is an influence which is felt in every place,
at every moment, while the ravages of political ambition,
desolating as they may be in their tempestuous violence,
pass away, and give place to a prosperity like that which
they seemed wholly to overwhelm, — a prosperity which, as
the result of innumerable labours, and, therefore, of innume-
rable wishes that have prompted these labours, rises again,
and continues through a long period of years, by the gentler
influence of those very principles to which before it owed
its destruction."*
These remarks may assist us in forming an estimate of
the moral aspect of this desire. Power may be an in-
strument of great good, and has therefore been rendered
directly delightful to the mind. It follows from hence,
that the desire of power is not in itself positively wrong.
I say positively, because it may be negatively wrong, when
it is not so per see. The desire of food is an original
feeling, and consequently, like all our native feelings, pos-
sesses in itself no more moral character than the instinct-
ive attachments of brutes. No moral approbation can
accordingly be awarded to the act of taking food, unless
the object of the person who partakes of it be to strength-
en him for the labours and duties to which he is called.
Yet even when this intention does not exist, the disappro-
bation of the act, which must arise in minds of exalted
* Vol. III. pp. 463, 4.
382 CLASS III. DESIRE.
virtue, is excited not by what is, but by what is not. The
moral error is one o( defect. It is so also with reference to
the desire of power. Power should be desired for the
sake of that good which it may be rendered the instru-
ment of securing. There can be no virtuous desire of
power when this higher object is disregarded, and the
feeling becomes positively sinful in cases where power is
sought with a view to the attainment of an end which it
is not lawful to pursue.
The desire of wealth is usually regarded as a particular
modification of the love of power. Wealth gives us pow-
er to secure the voluntary services of others, and to obtain
all that those services can procure for us. The ultimate
object of desire, in this case, has accordingly been stated
to be the power which wealth thus confers upon us. It is
probably more accurate, however, to say that the gratifi-
cations which this power enables us to secure, constitute
the ultimate object of the desire, rather than the power
itself. The love of wealth is manifestly not an original
principle. Wealth is not desired, like knowledge, for its
own sake ; " for a mass of gold does not possess more es-
sential value, or much more essential value, than a mass
of iron. It derives its value from the command over the
labour of others, or the actual possessions of others, which
it is capable of transferring to every one into whose hands
it may pass ; or from the distinction which the possession
of what is rare, and universally desired, confers.
In the case of the miser, however, the ultimate object
of desire is thought to be the wealth itself. He does not
employ it as an instrument in securing those enjoyments
in relation to which alone wealth has any value. " The
mere gold is desired, as if it were a source of every hap-
piness ; when every happiness which it truly affords, is
despised, as if of little value, compared with that which
derives from its power over the very enjoyments that are
despised, all the absolute value that it possesses."
" The common theory of the value attached by the miser
to the mere symbol of enjoyment is, that the symbol, by
the influence of the general laws of association, becomes
THE DESIRE OF POWER. 383
representative of the enjoyment itself. We have so fre-
quently considered money as that which affords us various
pleasures, that the value which we attach to the pleasures
themselves, is transferred to that which we know will
always produce them, when exchanged for the enjoy-
ment."
Now it cannot be denied, I imagine, that this theory is
open to the objection of Dr. Brown, viz. that while it suf-
ficiently shows how all men come to attach value to mo-
ney, it does not explain the fact that some men are led to
attach peculiar value to it. It would seem to prove, in-
deed, that all men must ultimately become misers. Dis-
satisfied, on this account, with the common theory, Dr. B.
founds the passion of the miser, not on the pleasing associ-
ation of enjoyment, but on an associated painful feeling of
regret. Many of the enjoyments which money purchases,
perish with the moment of their acquisition ; while the mo-
ney that procured them is still in being. The cake of the
school-boy is soon devoured ; its value has wholly ceased ;
but the money which he gave for it is still in existence, and
would have remained his own if the cake had not been pur-
chased. He thinks of the penny as existing now — and ex-
isting without any thing which he can oppose as an equi«
valent to it ; and the feeling of regret that he has parted
with it arises. This feeling of regret will be suggested by
every conception of expense, — will be heightened by the
recollection of all that the money might have purchased,
but which is now beyond his reach, as well as by other con-
siderations, — till avarice, at length, takes full possession of
his heart.
Did the statements of Dr. Brown proceed no further, they
would manifestly be exposed to the same difficulty with
the common theory. But he goes on to show that the dif-
ferent manner in which money is spent, in early life, may
lay a foundation for the different emotions with which it is
ultimately contemplated. When, in return for the money
expended, nothing substantial or permanent has been
gained, this feeling of regret, the germ of avarice, is likely
to arise. On the other hand, when something has been
384 CLASS in. — desire op the esteem
purchased which retains a permanent value, the feehng is
less likely to arise ; and the pleasure derived from the pur-
chase, during its permanent possession, will accustom the
purchaser to value money only as the instrument of what
he feels to be valuable. I have, I acknowledge, some
doubts whether a reference to fact will altogether bear out
the statements of Dr. Brown ; but I cannot withhold my
admiration from the singular beauty and ingenuity of many
of his subsequent remarks upon the subject.
DESIRE OF THE ESTEEM AND LOVE OF OTHERS.
Under this head I include the love of fame, for it grows
out of the desire of esteem, and is not essentially distinct
from it. That the emotion itself constitutes one of the ori-
ginal susceptibilities of the mind — or that the Creator of
the mind has rendered the esteem and love of others natu-
rally grateful to us, it were a waste of time to stop to prove.
Nor is it more necessary to specify the various ways in
which the emotion is developed. My remarks shall, there-
fore, be confined to the moral aspect of this desire. Con-
stituting then, as it does, a part of our moral nature, it is
impossible that it can be evil per se. Dr. Brown thinks
that, unless in cases when it becomes improper from ex-
cess, it must, on this account be virtuous per se ; so that
when a man desires and seeks the esteem and approbation
of others, for its own sake, he feels and acts virtuously. If
this were conceded, however, it would follow that true vir-
tue may be predicated of an individual when he experi-
ences hunger, or desires to enjoy the flavour of a peachy
The moral character of this emotion must, then, be de-
termined, by the ultimate object, on account of which we
desire the esteem and love of others. If we seek it as an
important instrument of good, it is both lawful and com-
mendable. But if, on the contrary, we pursue it to gratify
our pride — as the means of doing evil ;— or even if we de-
sire it for its own sake merely, the moralist who takes the
high tone and ground of divine revelation, must pronounce
it morally wrong. " Take heed," said our Saviour, " that
ANli- LOVE OP OTHERS. 385
ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them ;
otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in
heaven.""
It has been well observed, that when the desire of the
esteem and love of others is pursued as an ultimate object,
it disinclines the heart from following the course to which
higher motives to virtue would lead. The individual under
its control may have no objection to the authority of hea-
ven, as a rule of action, when it happens to correspond in
any point with his inclinations ; but, when it departs from
this point of accidental union, the authority is overlooked
and disregarded.
Yet, though I dare not pronounce the desire of the
esteem or approbation of others, for its own sake, to be
positively virtuous, 1 freely acknowledge that it is the
means of preventing much evil. " The mere love of repu-
tation," says one, " when the standard of morality is some-
what elevated, will produce much of that regularity of con-
duct, which is conducive to the order and happiness of
society." — " A man that is not quite abandoned, must be-
have so in society as to preserve some degree of reputation.
This every man desires to do, and the greater part actually
do. In order to this, he must acquire the habit of restrain-
ing his appetites, and passions, within the bounds which
common decency requires, and so as to make himself a
tolerable member of society, if not an useful and agreeable
one. It cannot be doubted that many, from a regard to
character, and the opinion of others, are led to make them-
selves useful and agreeable members of society, over whom
a sense of duty exerts but a small influence."* In the
same strain, though not quite so evangelically, WTites an
eloquent French author, "the greater number of men, weak
by the frailties and inconsistencies of their nature, require
a support. The desire of reputation, coming in aid of their
too weak sense of duty, binds them to that virtue, which
otherwise they might quit. They would dare, perhaps, to
blush to themselves; they would fear to blush before tbeif
nation, and their age."
* Dewar's Moral Philosophy, Vol. I. p. 415.
19
386 THE DESIRE OF SUPERIORITY-
THE DESIRE OF SUPERIORITY, OR THE PRINCIPLE OF
EMULATION.
Some philosophers regard the desire of superiority, as not
distinct from the desire of power. " We cannot," they say,
" have the superiority over others with whom we compare
ourselves, without possessing some degree of power over
them. Superiority is not any thing else but power, and
the pleasure which arises from the consciousness of being
superior to others, is the same, in kind and degree, with
that which arises from our conscious possession of power."
1 am disposed to question the accuracy of the preceding
statement. That superiority frequently confers power, and
is, indeed, generally perhaps connected with it, is conceded ;
but it does not appear to me that the two things are iden-
tical. One man may be superior in humility to another,
but what power over him does this superiority confer ? Or
rather, how does it appear that this superiority is power ?
The love of distinction, as distinction^ appears to me a dis-
tinct susceptibility of mind from the love of power. A man
may desire distinction without thinking of the power with
which it is usually connected.
It is of great importance not to confound the desire of
superiority, or emulation, with envy. Emulation aims
merely to surpass others ; envy to deprive them of certain
advantages that we may attain this superiority. Emula-
tion may exist amongst those who are united in the most
cordial friendship. Envy cannot; because envy involves
in it a malevolent aifection. It is the wishing of evil to
others ; though evil to them is only desired as the means of
attaining superiority over them, " Emulation," says Dr.
Butler, " is merely the desire of superiority over others with
whom we compare ourselves. To desire the attainment of
this superiority, by the particular means of others being
brought down below our own level, is the particular no-
tion of envy. From whence it is easy to see, that the
real end which the natural passion emulation, and which
the unlawful one envy, aims at, is exactly the same;
OR THE PRINCIPLE OF EMULATIOX. 387
and, consequently, that to do mischief is not the end of
envy, but merely the means it makes use of to attain its
end."
The following distinction between jealousy and envy is
worth attention. " The malevolent affection with which
some unfortunate minds are ever disposed to view those
whom they consider as competitors, is denominated jea-
lousy, when the competitor, or supposed competitor, is one
who has not yet attained their height, and when it is the
future that is dreaded. It is denominated envy, when it
regards some actual attainment of another. But the emo-
tion, varying with this mere difference of the present and
the future, is the same in every other respect. In both
cases the wish is a wish of evil — a wish of evil to the ex-
cellent — and a wish which, by a sort of anticipated retri
bution, is Itself evil to the heart that has conceived it."*
The principle of emulation is not, then, contaminated by
any desire of evil to others. It is not, accordingly, evil per
se. It cannot be so, because it is one of the original sus-
ceptibilities of the mind. Neither is it good per se. It is
impossible to grant that one original propensity, developed
by its appropriate object^ is, on that account, virtuous, with-
out making a similar concession in favour of all, — a con-
cession which would lead into interminable difficulties.
Nor does the moral aspect of this emotion depend alto-
gether upon the nature of that in which we desire to excel.
The desire of superiority, in relation even to Christian
attainments, merely as superiority, could such a desire pos-
sibly exist, would not be a virtuous desire. To invest it
with the character of virtue, the emotion must be excited
by the moral excellence, or holiness itself. This desire is
a very important part of our mental constitution As a na-
tural feeling merely, it has nothing in it of the nature of true
virtue ; but, under the influence and direction of higher
principles, it may be rendered the instrument of much good.
It has become a question, how far it is right to take the
advantage of an appeal to this part of our mental constitu-
* Brown, Vol. III. p. 549.
388 THE DESIRE OF SUPERIORITY, &C.
tion in conducting the education of children. On the ont
hand, it is said, that little good can be effected without
such an appeal ; it is alleged, on the other, that by making
that appeal, we attempt to influence the child by a motive
which does not possess the nature of true virtue, and are in
danger of stimulating to a very alarming degree, a princi-
ple which needs to be kept in subjection. It is of impor-
tance, I apprehend, to remember, in this controversy, that,
in the business of education, we have, in most cases, only
mere natural principles to which we can appeal — that if it
be wrong, for the reasons specified above, to avail ourselves
of the principle of emulation, it is diflicult to see how it can
be right to avail ourselves of the principles of fear, shame,
&c. If a child does what is right, merely through fear of
disgrace, or punishment, or because the tutor, or the parent,
commands it, I freely acknowledge that, on the principles
of the New Testament, there is nothing of true virtue in
his conduct ; but are we not, on this account, to threaten,
or command? The proper method sccma to be, to avail
ourselves of every natural propensity which can afford aid
in the mental and moral discipline of the young — to bring
the powerful motives supplied by the principles of shame,
fear, emulation, to bear upon them ; but to teach them, at
the same time, that they must be influenced by higher mo-
tives, in order to obtain the approbation of God,
THE
ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE.
The main object of the preceding part of this volume
has been to ascertain and exhibit the nature, or, what we
may call, the physical properties of the mind — to describe
its original susceptibilities and powers — the varied states
of thought and feeling which it has been formed by its Cre-
ator capable of experiencing — the elements of the more
complex phaenomena — the circumstances and occasions on
which they arise, or the laws which regulate their occur-
rence and succession.
Mental Philosophy then, properly so called, constitutes
one branch of Physical Science. The mind is a substance,
not, indeed, visible and tangible like gold, but still a sub-
stance ; 2. e, something subsisting, or something to which
existence has been imparted by the power of the great
source of being. And it is the business of the intellectual
philosopher, to inquire into the properties of the substance
mind^ as the student in natural science inquires into the
properties of the substance matter. To this point our
efforts have hitherto been exclusively, or all but exclu-
sively, directed.
There is, however, another very important inquiry to be
instituted. Having ascertained the original susceptibili-
ties of the mind, there still remains the question which
regards the rectitude of the actual feelings, which, in in-
dividual cases, grow out of these original susceptibilities.
390 THE RECTITUDE OP PARTICULAR FEELINGS
For though few things can be more certain, than that no
feeling which the mind has been formed to experience,
can be evil per se, it is not a legitimate consequence of
this statement that, in every case of its occurrence, it
must be a right feeling. The mind has been rendered
susceptible, for instance, of the feeling of anger. Anger
cannot, therefore, be evil per se ; yet as it may become
so through misdirection, excess, &c., we cannot pro-
nounce upon its blameless character, in any particular
instance, without examination. Even philosophers, who
do not perhaps admit the moral pravity of human nature,
are aware of this distinction between what is, and what
ought to be. Thus accurately speaks Dr. Brown :
" Though our intellectual analysis were perfect, so that
we could distinguish, in our most complex thought or
emotion, its constituent elements, and trace with exact-
ness the series of simpler thoughts which have progres-
sively given rise to them, other inquiries, equally, or still
more important, would remain. We do not know all
that is to be known of the mind, we know all its phae-
nomena, as we know all that can be known of matter,
when we know the appearances which it presents, in
every situation in which it is possible to place it, and the
manner in which it then acts, or is acted upon by other
bodies. When we know that man has certain affections
and passions, there still remains the great inquiry as to
the propriety or impropriety of those passions, and of the
conduct to which they lead. We have to consider not
merely how he is capable of acting, but, also, whether
acting in the manner supposed, he would be fulfilling a
duty or perpetrating a crime."*
The Rev. J. Gilbert, in his Memoirs of the late Dr.
Williams, of Rotherham, repeats with apparent acqui-
escence a charge of overlooking this distinction, which
had been preferred by the latter gentleman against the
Northern metaphysicians. " He regarded," says Mr. G.
" the science of morals as in a very imperfect degree
understood, for which in the commencement of the work
* Vol. I. p. 9.
MUST BE EXAMINED. o9^1
he assigns a variety of causes* He thought in particular,"
proceeds Mr. G. " that the method of induction alone, as
proposed by the Scotch professors of the philosophy of
mind, could never produce a result, capable of supplying
adequate grounds for the formation of a satisfactory sys-
tem of morals."* In support of this general statement,
Mr. G. himself says, '' By induction from particular ob-
servation of what transpires in our own minds, we may
indeed ascertain that we are accountable — but we cannot
arrive at a true knowledge of the nature of virtue and
vice, or of their respective sources. The very supposition
that such a method of constructing a true moral philoso-
phy can possibly succeed, must assume that the inquirer
is, in fact, a perfect being — that what ought to be, and
what is, are in him the same thing. How else, by any
examination of his thoughts, feelings, volitions, and ac-
tions, can he ascertain the rule of requirement, the
general law of rectitude ?"t
The correctness of the latter statement is admitted. It
is, in truth, the very statement of Dr. Brown ; and Mr.
Gilbert, in justice to this distinguished writer, ought to
have adverted to this fact. I admit, indeed, that Dr,
Brown sometimes writes, on the subject of morals, as
though he had practically forgotten his own statements •,
but no evidence can be more conclusive than that which
is afforded by the passage I have quoted, that, when the
subject was before the view of his mind, he saw with
perfect clearness the important distinction which exists
between what is, and what ought to be, in human feeling
and conduct.
And no person, it is conceived, who admits the state-
ments of Scripture, in reference to the moral pravity of hu-
man nature, can forget this distinction. For though the
fall of man affected no change in the original susceptibili-
ties of the mind — though it created none, and distinguished
none, it perverted all. It brought a cloud over the under-
standing which affects our moral perceptions ; so that, till
* Vol I. p. 588. X P. 589.
392 WHAT IS RECTITUDE T
it is dispelled by supernatural influence, the susceptibility
of love is frequently developed by that which is evil, and
the susceptibility of hatred by that which is good.
It becomes, accordingly, necessary to devote a little time
to the investigation of what ought to be in man ; — having
shown how he is capable of acting, to consider, as Dr.
Brown says, " whether acting in the manner supposed, he
would be fulfilling a duty, or perpetrating a crime.''
To conduct this investigation, so as to lead to a satisfac-
tory result, it is obviously necessary to ascertain what is the
proper standard of rectitude, in reference to human affec-
tions and conduct. The term rectitude necessarily sup-
poses a balance in which moral actions may be weighed,
or a rule by which they are to be measured. What is this
rule ? This question, which is comprehensive of almost
every inquiry that can be presented on the subject of mo-
rals, is generally conceived to resolve itself into two, viz.
What is rectitude ? and, What is the measure, or standard,
of rectitude ? Or, according to another mode of statement,
adopted by some. What is the nature — and what the cri-
terion of virtue ? It is, in the opinion of many writers, of
great importance to preserve this distinction. "In this
controversy," says one, " we often meet with much needless
discussion, owing, in a great measure, to different senses
attached to terms of a similar import. Thus the word
Test, or Criterion, is sometimes applied to that which con-
stitutes virtue, instead of being confined to that by which it
is ascertained. In the same way, the term Standard of vir-
tue has been confounded with the foundation of virtue."
In strict accuracy, however, the question proposed above
is one only ; for that which renders an action right, is the
ultimate, i, e. the true criterion, of its being so. If an ac-
tion be morally right, for instance, because it is conformed
to the law of God, the divine law must, of course be the
standard of moral rectitude. It is, however, perfectly con
ceivable that, of this ultimate standard, whatever it may
be, we may not, in all cases, be able to avail ourselves.
We may find ourselves compelled to employ a measure
nearer at hand, so to speak, a measure which may prove
THE NATURE OP RECTITUDE. 393
«n action to be right, though it does not render it so. It
will, probably, therefore, be expedient to proceed in our
inquiries, as if the question to which reference has been
made, really involved the two perfectly separate and dis-
tinct inquiries, viV. What is rectitude 1 — and, What is the
standard of rectitude ? Our first question then is,
WHAT IS RECTITUDE ?
The general doctrine, in relation to this important topic,
which I shall endeavour to establish, is the following ; viz4
that the term Rectitude, denotes some actual quality in
actions — or that there is an essential distinction between
right and wrong. In what rectitude actually consists, 1
shall afterward state ; my object, at present, is to support
this general doctrine ; — an object which will, perhaps, be
best attained by instituting an examination of various
statements which are directly opposed to it, and by exhibit-
ing it in the light of contrast with them as we proceed*
The general assertion of an essential difference between
right and wrong is, then, I observe,
I, At variance with the statements of those sceptical
philosophers who maintain that the term Rectitude merely
denotes that conduct which happens to be sanctioned by
the customs or laws, of the country, or age, in which we live.
This sceptical doctrine is founded on the different moral
estimate which is formed of the same action, in various
countries and ages. In Sparta, theft was permitted by
law, and, when undiscovered, viewed with approbation ;
in England, it is execrated, and punished. In some coun-
tries, the aged have been abandoned, without compunction,
to their fate ; in Great Britain, they are honoured and
cherished.
Upon a few isolated facts of this description, the perni-
cious doctrine has been built, that actions have no moral
character — that we have only " a few casual prejudices,
which we have chosen to call virtue ; — prejudices which a
slight difference of opinion might have reversed, making:
50
394 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
the lover of mankind odious to us, and giving all our
regard to the robber and the murderer."
To overthrow this pernicious doctrine, nothing more is
necessary than to refer to the general agreement, in the
moral judgments of men, which, after every allowance
has been made for the difference of opinion referred to
above, will be found to exist. With some trifling diversity
— a diversity for which it is by no means difficult to ac-
count — there is a great, and general, and remarkable uni-
formity. For one, who views theft, and infanticide, and
parricide, without detestation, we can point to thousands,
and tens of thousands, who cannot revert to them even in
thought, without the warmest feelings of moral abhorrence.
And, this fact, as we have said, completely overturns the
sceptical doctrine. Because — for such must be the lan-
guage of the objector, if he adhere to truth and fact— in
one case, out of five hundred, or five thousand, there exists
a difference of judgment in reference to moral actions, ac-
tions have no moral character. It is surely sufficient to re-
ply, Because, in the remaining five hundred, or five thou-
sand, there is an agreement, actions have a moral charac-
ter. If his argument has any weight, ours must have
weight ; for they rest on the same basis, viz. that the mo-
ral judgments of men may be regarded as evidence of the
moral character of actions. And the argument, if it be
allowed at all, throws much greater weight into our scale,
than into his. The general rule is with us, the exceptions
with him. The moral judgments of men — of the race at
large — are on our side of the question ; the moral judg-
ment of a few only on his. The probability certainly is,
that the correct judgment is with the many ; the mistaken
one, with the few. Were an individual to call an object
black, which all other men considered scarlet, we should
instantly decide not surely that its colour was not scarlet,
but that the eyes of the observer were the subjects of dis-
ease. The application of the illustration is easy. Indivi-
dual approbation of theft, infanticide, parricide, &c. does
not disprove, them to be crimes of a crimson hue ; it shows
merely that the judgment — the moral eye of the observer —
THEORY OF THE SCEPTICS ; OF HOBBES. 395
is diseased. " Our taste," says Dr. Brown, " distinguishes
what is sweet and what is bitter — we prefer one to the other.
Who is there that denies that there is, in the original capa-
bility of the infant, a tendency to certain preferences of
this kind? Yet in the luxury of other years, there are cu-
linary preparations which the taste of some approves, while
the taste of others rejects them. If the morals of different
nations, differed half as much as the cookery of different
nations, we might allow some cause for disbelief of all
the natural distinctions of right and wrong. But what
sceptic is there who contends from the approbation which
one nation gives to a sauce, or a ragout, which almost
sickens him, that the sweet does not naturally differ from
the bitter as more agreeable, and the aromatic from the in-
sipid, and that to the infant sugar, wormwood, spice, are,
as sources of pleasure, essentially the same ?*
The theory of Hobbes, is a modification of the sceptical
philosophy, on which we have been animadverting. That
philosophy, as we have seen, not only regards actions as
devoid originally of any moral character, but as perma-
nently remaining so — the moral estimates we form of ac-
tions being mere prejudices — so that, in fact, there is no
such thing as virtue and vice in the world. Hobbes, how-
ever, though he contends for the original moral indiffe-
rence of actions, admits that legal enactment may give,
and, indeed, does give them, a moral character. That
which is commanded, becomes virtue through the influ-
ence of law, though it was not so before ; and disobedi-
ence is, accordingly, not to he regardftd as imprudence, or
disobedience merely, but as actual immorality. It is im-
possible to conceive of a more complete and triumphant
answer to this dogma, than that which has been given by
Drs. Brown and Cud worth. " A law, if there be no moral
obligation independent of the law, and prior to it, is only
the expression of the desire of a multitude who have power
to punish, that is to say, to inflict evil of some kind on
those who resist them, — it may be imprudent, therefore, to
* Vol. III. p. 605,
396' THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
resist them ; that is to say, imprudent to run the risk of
that precise quantity of physical suffering which is threat-
ened ; but it can be nothing more. If there be no essen-
tial morality that is independent of law, an action does
not acquire any new qualities by being the desire of a
thousand persons rather than of one. There may be
more danger, indeed, in disobeying a thousand, than in
disobeying one, but not more guilt. To use Dr. Cud-
worth's argument, it must either be right to obey the law,
and wrong to disobey it, or indifferent whether we obey it
or not. If it be morally indifferent whether we obey it or
not, the law, which may, or may not be obeyed, with equal
virtue, cannot be a source of virtue ; and, if it be right to
obey it, the very supposition that it is right to obey it,
implies a notion of right and wrong, that is antecedent to
the law, and gives it its moral efficacy.
" A sovereign," it has been truly said, " may enact and
rescind laws ; but he cannot create or rescind a single
virtue." It is impossible for him " to reverse the feelings
of moral approbation and disapprobation with which we
contemplate the conduct of men." Our moral judgments
are not, then, the result of political enactment. They
flow from another source. They are, as we have seen,
remarkably uniform ; — a fact which is easily accounted for
on the supposition that there is an essential difference
between right and wrong, which we are formed as capable
of perceiving, as the difi'erence which exists between
truth and falsehood ; but which must be wholly inexplica-
ble on any other system.
II. The assertion of an essential difference between
right and wrong, is at variance with the sentiments of
those who maintain that rectitude is founded solely in the
will or command of God. The two words, will and com-
mand, are used as synonymous here, because the com-
mands of God are the expression of his will. It is not
denied indeed, — and this should be most carefully ob-
served — that the will of God, when ascertained, must be,
in all cases, a most perfect measure of virtue ; nor that it
may, in some cases, if not in all, be the most convenient
NOT POUNDED IN THE WILL OP GOD. 397
measure. I wish, also, further to guard the reader against
supposing that any thing which may be said on this point
is intended to oppose the sentiment (whether it be a cor-
rect one or not, I do not now stop to inquire) that the
nature of God is the foundation of virtue. All that is
meant is, that we must look to something more ultimate,
so to speak, not, indeed, as the standard, but as the
foundation of virtue.
One would think that any dispute upon this subject
might be very easily settled. The question is simply this,
" Is an action right because God commanded it ? Or did
God command it because it is right ?" It is to me, I ac-
knowledge, most wonderful that any doubt should have
existed whether the latter part of this dilemma exhibits
the true state of the case ; for if an action be right be-
cause God commanded it, it follows.
First, that it has no rectitude in itself. Its rectitude,
by supposition, is communicated by the will or command
of God ; and as no being who has life in himself can
have life communicated, so no action which has rectitude
in itself, can have rectitude communicated. And if recti-
tude be thus communicated to actions, i. e. if they are
virtuous, and vicious, only because God willed that they
should be so, — then vice is in itself just as excellent as
virtue, and virtue just as worthless as vice. *'Let me
ask," says Dr. Dwight, " can any man believe this to
be true ?"
Secondly, that God willed virtue to be excellent with-
out any reason. The rectitude or virtue is consequent
upon the divine will. It did not precede it ; it did not
accompany it; and could not, therefore, have been the
cause of the volition. " And if virtue, ^nd vice, had
originally, and as they are seen by the eye of God, no
moral difference in their nature ; then there was plainly
no reason why God should prefer, or why he actually
preferred, one of them to the other. There was, for ex-
ample, no reason why he chose, and required, that intelli-
gent creatures should love him, and each other, rather
than that they should hate him, and hate each other. In
398 THE NATURE OP RECTITUDE.
choosing and requiring that they should exercise this
love, God acted, therefore, without any motive whatever.
" Certainly," says Dwight, " no sober man will attribute
this conduct to God."*
Thirdly^ If rectitude is founded on the will of God, it
follows, that he might have commanded what he now
prohibits, and have prohibited what he now commands.
If he willed virtue to be excellent, without any reason,
and actually rendered it virtue by so willing it, (which is
the case by supposition,) then he might have willed vice
to be excellent, and it would have become virtue by the
volition. To borrow the strong language of Dr. Dwight
— " If he had willed the character which Satan adopted,
and sustains, to be moral excellence, and that which
Gabriel sustains to be moral worthlessness, these two
beings, continuing in every other respect the same, would
have interchanged their characters ; Satan would have
become entirely lovely, and Gabriel entirely detestable.
Must not he who can believe this doctrine, as easily be-
lieve that, if God had willed it, two and two would have
become five ? Is it at all easier to believe that truth and
falsehood can interchange their natures, than that a
square and a triangle can interchange theirs V
Fourthly. If rectitude has its foundation in the will of
God, the distinction which is always conceived to exist
between moral duties and positive enactments, must be
abandoned. Were it conceded, as the sentiment we op-
pose asserts, that an action is right because God com-
mands it, and wrong because He forbids it, it would follow
that the prohibition of " the tree of knowledge of good
and evil," and the prohibition of murder and idolatry,
save the same character to the conduct forbidden. Pre-
vious to the command, there was no more sin in the one
case than in the other ; and, after the command, there
must have been an equal measure of sin in both. A posi-
tive precept, and a moral duty, are words without mean-
ing, unless it be conceded, that the latter denotes an
* System of Theolo^, Sermon 99.
SYSTEM OF HUTCHESON. 399
action which was commanded because it was right, and
the former an action which became right by being com-
manded.
III. The assertion of an essential difference between
right and wrong, is opposed to those statements which
represent rectitude as dependmg upon the arbitrary con-
stitution of the human mind. There are three forms of
this latter opinion which it will be necessary to notice ;
viz, the theories of Hutcheson, Adam Smith, and Dr.
Brown. From the latter of these philosophers, it pains
me greatly to be obliged to differ so materially ; but I am
constrained to think, that, on the subject of morals, he is
less to be trusted as a guide, than on any other part of his
course. I trust I shall be able to show, that his own rules
of philosophizing, overturn his own system of morals. At
all events, the reader shall have an opportunity of judging
between us. A victory over Dr. Brown, for the sake of
the triumph, is one of the very last things I should desire.
I greatly honour his talents — his character — his memory ;
but truth is dearer to me than any system, or any man.
The theories to which I have referred, have some fea-
tures in common, and some common objections may be
urged against them ; yet the defects and mistakes of each,
as they appear to me at least, are so far special, as to ren-
der it desirable to consider them separately.
To account for the origin of our ideas of right and
wrong. Dr. Hutcheson supposes, that God has endowed
us with what he calls " a moral sense," meaning, by this
phrase, a power within us different from reason, which
renders certain actions pleasing, and certain others dis-
pleasing to us. Through the medium of the external
senses, certain flavours and odours, &c., become the
sources of pleasure to us : by means of the moral sense,
in like manner, certain affections and actions of moral
agents, excite moral approbation and disapprobation,
leading to the formation of moral judgments.
If Dr. Hutcheson had been contented with saying, as Dr.
Brown has done, that certain actions awaken, when con-
templated, vivid emotions of approval or disgust, his scheme
400 THE NATURE OP RECTITUDE.
would have been intelligible at any rate, but it would not
have answered the end he had in view. He wished to ac-
count for the origin of our notions of right and wrong, which
he would not have conceived himself to have done, by
merely showing how. approbation and disapprobation arise.
It was necessary to call in the aid of a moral sense ; and
then, as the philosophy of the times taught that, by means
of the external senses, we gom perceptions^ or ideas^ as they
were called, as well as sensations^ it seemed to follow that,
by the medium of the moral sense, we may gain, so to
speak, moral sensations and moral perceptions — or ideas
of right and wrong.
Upon this scheme an excellent writer thus remarks :
" Our ideas of morality, if this account is just, have the
same origin with our ideas of the sensible qualities of bo-
dies, the harmony of sound, or the beauties of painting and
sculpture ; that is, the mere good pleasure of our Maker,
adapting the mind and its organs in a particular manner to
certain objects. Virtue is an affair of taste. Moral right
and wrong signify nothing in the objects themselves to
which they are applied, any more than agreeable and
harsh, sweet and bitter, pleasant and painful, but only cer-
tain effects in us. Our perceptions of right, or moral good
in actions, is that agreeable emotion, or feeling, which cer-
tain actions produce in us ; and of wrong, or moral evil, Ihe
contrary. They are particular modifications of our minds,
or impressions which they are ready to receive from the
contemplation of certain actions, which the contrary ac-
tions might have occasioned, had the Author of nature so
pleased ; and which to suppose to belong to these actions
themselves, is as absurd as to ascribe the pleasure or unea-
siness which the observation of a particular form gives us,
to the form itself. It is, therefore, by this account, impro-
per to say of an action that it is right, in much the same
sense that it is improper to say of an object of taste, that
it is sweet ; or of pain, that it is in the fire."*
I agree with Mr. Stewart, in thinking, that all these con-
sequences — sceptical conclusions as he calls them — do not
* Vide Price on Morals, pp. 10, 11.
SYSTEM OP HUTCHE50^^ 401
legitimately follow from this statement of Hutcheson. No
part of that statement justifies the charge of Dr. Price, that,
on this theory, moral right and wrong signify nothing in
the objects themselves, to which they are appHed* The
analogy from sensual affections to which Dr. Price ap-
peals, supports his charge only by resorting to what Mr.
Stewart justly denominates a miserable quibble— for though
there is nothing in sugar that resembles the sensation of
sweetness, there is something in it by which that sensation
is produced. In like manner, though we cannot conceive
that any thing resembling the emotion of approbation, re-
sides in the action which awakens it, there must be a cer-
tain quality, or aptitude in the action, to excite the emotion ;
and this quality, or aptitude, whatever it be, and whatever
we call it, may be, on Hutcheson 's principles, the virtue of
the action.
It cannot be denied, however, that a part at least of Dr*
Price's charge is true. Hutcheson 's statements do certainly
represent virtue as depending upon the arbitrary constitu-
tion of the mind. Had our external senses been different,
our sensations must have been diverse from what they are
at present. Would, then, our moral feelings and judgments
remain the same, were our moral sense to undergo a change?
How can it be pretended ? Ey the present constitution of
the mind, virtuous actions are doubtless agreeable to us.
By a different constitution, which, for ought we know to the
contrary, we might easily have received, vicious actions
(?*. e. as they are now regarded by us) might have been ren-
dered agreeable. The character of Satan might have
awakened emotions of approbation ; the character of God
those of disapprobation ; and, consequently, on his princi-
ples, our ideas of right and wrong must have been com-
pletely reversed.
This objection against the doctrine of Hutcheson ap-
pears to me a radical and fatal one. I most perfectly
agree with Mr. Stewart in the following sentiment, " that
it is of the utmost importance to remember that the
words right and wrong express qualities of actions."
*• When I «ay/' adds this writer, "of an act of justice that
51
402 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
it is right, do I mean merely that the act excites pleasure
in my mind, as a particular colour pleases my eye, in con-
sequence of a relation which it bears to my organ ; or do I
mean to assert a truth, which is as independent of my con-
stitution as the equality of the three angles of a triangle to
two right angles ?"*
The theory of Dr. Adam Smith is considerably different
from that of Hutcheson. If, on contemplating the actions
of our fellow men, we are able fully to sympathize with
them, we regard the action as right, and the agent as vir-
tuous. If, on the other hand, we find the exercise of sym-
pathy impossible, our moral judgment is the direct reverse.
When we regard our own conduct, "we in some measure
reverse this process ; or rather, by a process still more re-
fined, we imagine others sympathizing with us, and sympa-
thize in their sympathy. We consider how our conduct
would appear to an impartial spectator. We approve of
it, if it be that of which we feel that he would approve ; we
disapprove of it, if it be that which we feel, by the experi-
ence of our own former emotions, when we have ourselves
in similar circumstances estimated the actions of others,
would excite his disapprobation."
Dr. Brown examines this fantastical doctrine with great
minuteness, thus giving to it more importance than it de-
serves. He states that sympathy is not a perpetual accom-
paniment of every action of every one around us — that it is
only called forth when there is in those actions which ex-
cite it, a display of vividness of feeling ; so that, on the
theory of Smith, the greater part of human actions can
have no moral character, since they awaken no sympathy.
He states further, that, without some previous moral no-
tions of actions as right, or wrong, mere sympathy could
communicate no ideas of virtue and vice. The utmost
effect of sympathy is to identify us, so to speak, with the
individual who excites it. Now it is supposed that this
individual cannot gain, by contemplating his own circum-
stances and conduct^ any notion of rectitude. How then,
* Outlines, p. 240.
%
SYSTExM OF DR. ADAM SMITH. 403
it is natural to ask, can we gain it, by identifying ourselves
with him?
There is, however, I imagine, a more important objec-
tion against the theory of Smith, than any to which Dr.
Brown has adverted. It obviously founds rectitude on the
arbitrary constitution of the mind. The mind is so consti-
tuted that it sympathizes with certain actions ; those ac-
tions, says Dr. Smith, are right. Does he mean that the
sympathy renders them virtuous — or proves them to be so ?
If he mean the latter merely, then the system does not ex-
hibit the foundation of virtue at all. If the former, then
\irtue depends upon the constitution of the mind; and, as
it is possible for the mind to have been constituted differ-
ently, it might have been virtuous to lie and kill, and vicious
to refrain from either !
The foregoing objection against this whimsical theory
would have been valid, if man were now what he ought to
be. But he is not. The crown of moral purity has fallen
from his head. His judgment is beclouded — his heart is
depraved ; and, in consequence of this circumstance, he
may experience sympathy where he should feci none — and
lack it where it ought to be possessed. So far, then, is the
theory of Dr. Smith from exhibiting the foundation of
virtue, that it does not furnish us with an accurate criterion
of virtue.
The theory of Dr. Brown differs very considerably both
from that of Smith and Hutcheson ; the precise nature,
however, of that difference will be better appreciated, after
a statement of that theory has been laid before the reader.
In consequence of its importance, and the remarks which
I intend to make upon it, I shall give a fuller account of it
than of the statements of preceding writers.
Dr. Brown, then, begins his discussion by denying the
propriety of the distinction which is usually made between
a moral action and a moral agent — a distinction which
has led to the common opinion, that an action may be
evil, while the agent is virtuous, or, vice versa, that the ac-
tion may be praiseworthy, while the agent deserves censure
and condemnation. To say that any action which we are
404 . THE NATURE OP RECTITUDE.
considering, is right or wrong, and to say that the person
who performed it has merit or demerit, are to say precisely
the same thing. "An action," he adds, " if it be any thing
more than a mere insignificant word, is a certain agent in
certain circumstances, willing and producing a certain ef-
fect ; and the emotion, whatever it may be, excited by the
action, is in truth, and must always be, the emotion excited
by the agent, real or supposed."
He proceeds to state that certain actions, or rather cer-
tain agents, in certain circumstances, excite instantly and
irresistibly, by virtue of the constitution of the mind, the
emotions of moral approbation — that all actions which are
thus united in awakening this emotion, we class together,
and give to them a generic name — that this generic name is
virtue, which does not denote any thing self-existing, like the
universal essences of the schools, and eternal, like the Pla-
tonic ideas — that it denotes nothing in itself, but is only a
general name for certain actions, which agree in exciting,
when contemplated, this emotion of approbation — that this
emotion, and the contrary, are distinctive to us of the
agent as virtuous or vicious, worthy or unworthy of esteem
— that the emotions do not arise from processes of reason-
ings and regard to general rules of propriety, formed gene-
rally by attention to the circumstances in which the mind
is placed — that though the general rules of propriety may
seem to confirm our suffrage, the suffrage itself is given
before their sanction — that these rules of propriety are ul-
timately founded on these particular emotions ; it being
the case, not that we originally approve or condemn par-
ticular actions, because, upon examination, they appear to
be agreeable to, or inconsistent with, a certain general
rule ; but that the general rule is formed, on the contrary,
by finding, from experience, that all actions of a certain
kind, or circumstanced in a certain manner, are approved
or disapproved — that the tendency of an action, in conse-
quence of the constitution of the mind to awaken this emo-
tion, and which he calls its approveableness, is the virtue
of the action, and that this approveableness is nothing but
the relation of the action to the emotion — that the obliga-
SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 406
tion to perform an action is, that if we neglect it we can-
not look upon ourselves with approving regard, and that a
man has acted virtuously, and has merit, who has acted in
such a manner as to secure his regard. " Why," says he,
" does it seem to us virtue to act in this way ? Because,"
he replies, " the very contemplation of the action excites in
us a certain feeling of vivid approbation. It is this irresist-
ible approveableness (if I may use such a word to express
briefly the relation of certain actions to the emotion that is
instantly excited by them) which constitutes to us, who
consider the action, the virtue of the action itself, the
merit of him who performed it, the moral obligation on
him to have performed it"
From this abstract it appears, that the theory of Dr.
Brown differs very materially from that of Dr. Smith. Ac-
cording to the former, certain actions directly awaken
emotions of approbation or disapprobation ; and the ac-
tions are regarded as virtuous or vicious, in consequence
of the relation they bear to these emotions. According
to Dr. Smith, we do not immediately approve of certain
actions, or disapprove of certain other actions. Before
any moral sentiment arises, we must go through another
process — that by which we enter into the feelings of others ;
if we are able perfectly to sympathize with them, we re-
gard their conduct as virtuous.
From the theory of Hutcheson, that of Dr. Brown does
not differ so widely. The latter, indeed, chiefly objects to
those statements of Hutcheson in which he ascribes all our
moral feelings, and judgments, to a " moral sense ;" for,
" unless words," says he, " be used with little or no mean-
ing, such statements imply that we have some primary me-
dium of moral perception which conveys to us moral know-
ledge, as the eye enables us to distinguish directly the va-
rieties of colour, or the ear the varieties of sound : whereas
there is nothing in our moral judgments allied to sensation
or perception in the philosophic meaning of these terms.
"' If indeed," he adds, " sense were understood in this case
to be synonymous with mere susceptibility, so that when
we speak of a moral sense, we were to be understood to
406 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
mean only a susceptibility of moral feeling of some sort,
we might be allowed to have a sense of morals ; because
we have, unquestionably, a susceptibility of moral emo-
tion ; but, in this wide extension of the term, we might be
said, in like manner, to have as many senses as we have
feelings of any sort, since, in whatever manner the mind
may have been affected, it must have had a previous sus-
ceptibility of being so affected, as much as in the peculiar
affections that are denominated moral."*
It is probable that Hutcheson employed the phrase
moral sense, as some of our modern phrenologists have
adopted the term organ, without taking the trouble to in-
quire whether he attached any definite signification to it.
It doubtless ought to be discarded, since it must either be
used in so lax and vague a manner as to convey no mean-
ing, or in a definite sense, when it would convey an impro-
per meaning.
Dr. Brown's system is not certainly exposed to this ob-
jection ; yet the radical fault which attaches itself to the
theories of Hutcheson and Smith, cleaves to that of
Brown ; while it has vices peculiar to itself. Like them,
it lays the foundation of virtue, in the arbitrary constitu-
tion of the mind. In consequence of the possession of
that constitution, certain actions awaken the emotions of
approbation, as certain flavours, and odours, are naturally
agreeable. Now, as no one doubts, that what is at pre-
sent pleasant to the taste, (fcc, might have been rendered
disagreeable ; — it seems to follow, as a necessary conse-
quence, that those actions which now excite approbation,
might, with a different mental constitution, have awakened
disapprobation ; i, e., that virtue and vice do not essen-
tially differ from each other. This, indeed, seems to be
admitted by Dr. Brown himself; for, even while affirming
the immutability of moral distinctions, he resolves that
immutability into the constitution, and unchangeableness
of the mind. " Virtue," says he, " being a term expres-
sive only of the relation of certain actions, as contempla-
* Vol. IV. p. 164.
SYSTEM OP DR. BROWN. 407
ted, to certain emotions in the minds of those who con-
template them, cannot, it is evident, have any universality,
beyond that of the minds in which these emotions arise.
We speak, always, therefore, relatively to the constitution
of our minds, not to what we might have been constituted
to admire, if we had been created by a different being ;
but to what we are constituted to admire, and what, in
our present circumstances, approving or disapproving
with instant love, or abhorrence, it is impossible for us not
to believe to be, in like manner, the objects of approba-
tion, or disapprobation, to Him who has endowed us with
feelings so admirably accordant with all those other gra-
cious purposes which we discover in the economy of na-
ture."*
And again : " Virtue is a felt relation to certain emo-
tions, and nothing more, with no other universality, there-
fore, than that of the minds in which, on the contempla-
tion of the same actions, the same emotions arise. We
speak always of what our mind is formed to admire or
hate, not of what it might have been formed to estimate
differently ; and the supposed immutability, therefore, has
regard only to the existing constitution of things under
that Divine Being, who has formed our social nature as it
is, and who, in thus forming it, may be considered as
marking his own approbation of that virtue which we
love, and his own disapprobation of that vice which he
has rendered it impossible for us not to view with indig-
nation or disgust."!
The theories both of Hutcheson and Smith, do really
place the foundation of virtue in the constitution of the
mind; it is peculiar, however^ to Dr. Brown, as I imagine,
at least, to avow this. He admits^ unless I misunderstand
him, that the mind might have been formed capable of
approving what it now disapproves. And, had that been
the case, vice would not only have appeared virtue, but
would really have been virtue ; i. e. on the principles of
this writer, that virtue is the relation of an action, to the
* Vol. III. p. 596. t Vol. III. p. 615.
w
408 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
feeling of approbation, which it excites. To me, I ac-
knowledge, the opinion that, retaining our relation to God
as creatures, and to each other as fellow-creatures, any
change in the constitution of the mind could render it
right to hate God, and each other, is so extravagant, that
I know not any thing which could prevail upon me to
embrace it.
It has been stated that the theory of Dr. Brown has to
encounter objections which are peculiar, either in kind or
degree, to itself. Some of these 1 proceed to mention.
First, it supplies us with no adequate cause for the rise
of the emotion of approbation, nor, consequently, for the
origin of our notions of virtue. The truth of this state-
ment will, it is imagined, be apparent to the reader, when
he recollects the account which Dr. Brown has given of the
nature of virtue. — Virtue, and vice, he tells us, denote
nothing in actions themselves. This is repeated in al-
most every form of negation. " Virtue is a felt relation,
and nothing more." " All that we mean by the moral
differences of actions is their tendency to excite one emo-
tion, rather than another." " There is no right nor
wrong, virtue nor vice, merit nor demerit, existing inde-
pendently of the agents who are virtuous or vicious."
And, in like manner, he adds, " If there had been no
moral emotions to arise on the contemplation of certain
actions, there would have been no virtue, vice, merit or
demerit, which express only relations to these emotions,"*
Now let the reader especially observe that — as virtue, is,
on this system, nothing more than a relation between a
certain action, and a certain emotion, — the notion of
virtue cannot arise, till the emotion of approbation has
arisen. Nothing surely can be more manifest than this.
But, on Dr. Brown's principles, how can the emotion of
approbation arise ? If virtue be nothing in actions, as is
so often stated, how do certain actions originate this emo-
tion? Does it not arise without a cause, unless there be
rectitude in the actions themselves — i. e. some quality or
aptitude in them to awaken it ? How can we approve.
* Vol. IV. p. 175.
SYSTEM t)F DR. BKOWN; 409
without approving something? If virtue be not sorrre
quality in actions which is not universal, how comes it to
pass that we approve some actions, and not others ? Why
do we not approve all actions alike ? Or, rather, how is
it possible that we should approve any actions, when
there is nothing in them, according to this theory, to ap-
prove ? It is admitted that there can be nothing in any
of the odoriferous particles of matter, which resembles
our sensations of smell ; yet there must be such particles,
or we should have no sensations. And when the resulting
sensations are different, — when some bodies have a
pleasant, and others an offensive odour, there must be a
difference in the odoriferous particles emitted by them, or
there could be no difference in the sensations which they
produce. Dr. Brown's system presents us with an effect
without a cause — represents us as approving, but approv-
ing nothing. It is not an answer to this statement to say
we approve the action^ because if there is nothing more
in one action than in another to excite the emotion of
approbation, how comes it to exist at all, or why do not
all actions awaken it ? If, on the other hand, there is
something in one action which does not exist in another,
adapted to awaken the feeling, that something is virtue in
the action ; and the statement of Dr. Brown is over-
thrown, that virtue is " a relation, and nothing more."
I am not unaware of the way in which Dr. Brown en*
deavours to extricate himself from the difficulty which
has been pressed upon his system. That difficulty is, that
as virtue is a mere relation — being nothing in actions
themselves — the system supplies us with no adequate
cause for the rise of the feeling of approbation — repre-
sents it as arising without any thing in the action by
which it is awakened to produce it, or virtue would be
something in actions. " It is not to moral distinctions,"^
replies the Doctor, " that this objection, if it had any
force, would be applicable." And he immediately pro*
ceeds to argue that it can have no force, because many
oth^r relations, such as equality^ proportion, &.C., do nofe
signify any thing in the objects themselves to which they
52
410 TUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
are applied, and yet they awaken feelings of equalityr
&c. — i. e\ feelings which, according to the line of argu-
ment we have taken, have no cause, according to Dr.
Brown's statement, in the objects which produce them.
A horse passes before us — it is followed by a cow ; we are
struck with the feeling of their resemblance. Yet the
cause of that feeling is not in one, or the other, of the
animals, nor in both of them united ; it is, says Dr. Brown,
in the constitution of our mind, formed by its Maker ca-
pable of experiencing the feeling in the circumstances re-
ferred to. The application of the argument is as follows ;
— virtue is nothing in objects, yet it may excite the feel-
ings of which we have been speaking.
In the whole of this reasoning there seems to me a mis-
take. It appears to identify our notions of virtue with our
feelings of approbation produced by virtuous conduct.
The question is, " How do our feelings of approbation
arise ?" Dr. Brown replies by showing how our notions
of virtue arise. Now, conceding to him, for the sake of
argument, that virtue is a relation, and that relations do
not exist in the object, but in the mind which contem-
plates them ;* It is manifest, on his own principles, that to
the rise of a notion of relation, it is necessary that there
be the perception or conception of two or more objects.
It is when the horse and cow are both perceived or thought
of, and not when they are perceived or thought of sepa-
rately, that the notion of relation arises. It follows, ac-
cordingly, from this statement, that if virtue be, as Dr.
Brown states, the relation of an action to the feeling of
approbation which it excites, the notion of this relation
cannot arise in the mind on the contemplation of the action
and the feeling separately. They must be viewed simul-
taneously ; ?. e. the emotion of approbation must have
* What is the proper notion to be formed of relations, appears to me a
most difficult and perplexing subject. I would not be understood as oppo-
sing Dr. Brown's statement ; yet I can scarcely accede to it. That notions
of relation exist in the mind is manifest ; but to say that the relations
themselves exist in the mind, is, I apprehend, more questionable phrase-
ology.
SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 411
arisen before the notion of relation between the action and
the emotion can possibly arise, for they cannot otherwise
be viewed simultaneously. Now Dr. Brown's system leaves
us utterly in the dark as to the manner in which the emo-
tion arises, or rather as to the source from which it springs ;
unless, indeed, he has identified it with the feeling of rela-
tion. And as this feeling depends for its existence upon
the previous existence of the emotion, for the previous
existence of which the system supplies no adequate cause,
I cannot but regard the whole theory as baseless. There
is no virtue in actions — nothing, that is, in one action,
which does not exist in another, to excite the emotion, (or
there would be virtue in the action,) and yet the emotion
arises ; — a statement which is to me equivalent with the
declaration, that there is nothing in a rose to awaken the
sensation of fragrance, and yet that the sensation arises.
We have seen that Hutcheson's theory does not neces-
sarily involve the sentiment that right and wrong tire not
indicative of any thing in actions themselves. Now as
some actions awaken emotions of approbation, while
others do not, we might have expected to hear Dr. Brown
admit the existence of something in thbse actions which
is adapted to awaken them. Such an admission would,
however, be adverse to his doctrine, that virtue is a mere
relation — a sentiment which lies at the foundation of most
of the mistakes, as they appear to me, that Dr. Brown has
committed on this subject. It may, then, be worth while
to examine this sentiment a little more particularly.
Proceeding on the same principles which have led Dr.
Brown to declare that virtue is a mere relation, I would
ask, what should forbid us to say of what are usually called
the secondary qualities of bodies, as smells, tastes, &c.,
that they arc nothing in the bodies themselves, but mere
relations of those bodies to the sensations they produce ?
If this would be a miserable quibble, as Mr. Stewart says,
(because there must be something in the body by which
the sensation is produced, though nothing resembling the
sensation,) how are we to free the statement of Dr. Brown
from a similar charge ? Besides, what is meant by the
412 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
term relation here ? What relation do what are called
virtuous actions sustain to the emotions they awaken ? It
can be no other than the relation of antecedence ; that is,
the actions precede the emotion, or are the cause of it.
And if this be the case, they must have a tendency, or apt-
itude, to produce it ; that is, there must be something pe-
culiar to those actions — something in them that does not
exist in others — which is adapted to excite the emotion ;
or why do not all actions awaken it ? And this conducts
us to the old conclusion, viz. that this something is the vir-
tue of the actions, in opposition to the statement so often
repeated, that virtue is a mere relation.
Secondly, If virtue be the mere relation of certain
actions to a certain emotion, it would seem to have been
constituted without any reason on the part of God, Dr.
Brown himself is obliged to admit that actions which are
now related to the emotion of approbation, might have
stood iti a relation exactly the reverse ; in which case what
m now regarded as virtue would have been vice, and vice
itself would have been transformed into virtue. Now if we
were not formed to* approve an action because it is right,
but the action hecdtnes right by our approving it, what rea-
son can there have been for that particular constitution of
mind which our Creator has given to us ? Admit, with
Mr. Stewart, "that the words right and wrong express
qualities of actions, — that when we say an act of justice
is right, we assert a truth which is independent of the con-
stitution of our minds ;" — and all doubt is removed. What
is right, God has formed the mind to approve, as what is
good, he has formed it to desire. If an action became
good by being desired, and right by being approved, which
appears to be Dr. Brown's system, what reason, it is again
asked, could have induced the Deity to form the mind to
approve some actions, and not others ? Dr. Brown inti-
mates, indeed, on one occasion, that the actions we approve
must be approved by God ; and he would, perhaps, argue
from that circumstance, that they could not have occupied
a relation different from that in which they at present stand
to Qur minds. But why must they be approved by God 1
SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 413
They must be approved by us, because our minds are con-
stituted to approve of them ; — a reason which does not
apply to God. If they have no rectitude in themselves,
i. e. as it appears to me, if there is in them nothing to ap-
prove, how is it that they awaken approbation in the mind
of the Deity ? Were it certainly the case, that an action
must awaken approbation in the mind of God, because it
excites it in ours^ it would follow, for any thing I can see
to the contrary, that an object which excites in our minds
the emotion of beauty, must appear beautiful to Jehovah.
And, further, if actions derive their virtue from the con-
stitution of our minds — if virtue be, as it is stated, the mere
relation of a certain action to a certain state of the mind —
how could there be virtue, any more than beauty, or fra-
grance, previous to the existence of the mind ? What, on
this system, is the rectitude of God — that holiness which is
ascribed to him by those who are a<lmitted to closer fellow-
ship than we enjoy, and which adorned his character long
ere his voice, " Let there be light," broke the silence of eter-
nity ? It can manifestly be nothing else than the tendency
of certain contemplated actions to awaken the approbation
of his own mind. But if certain actions tend to awaken ap-
probation, and others not, must there not be some quality
in the former which the latter do not possess, by which the
approbation is excited — 2. e. must there not be virtue in the
former, and not in the latter ?
If we avail ourselves of Dr. Brown's own statement, that
a moral action is, in fact, the moral agent himself, we shall,
perhaps, render it more difficult for an advocate of his sys-
tem to explain what we are to understand by the essential
rectitude of the Divine Being. He would seem to be re-
duced to the necessity of saying, that the holiness of God
is the relation of the Divine character to the Divine appro-
bation.
Thirdly^ Dr. Brown's theory of morals proceeds on a
practical forgetfulness of the distinction which exists, as he
himself admits, between what is, and what ought to be, in
human conduct. " When we know," says he, *» that man
has certain affections and passions, there still remains the
414 THE NATURE OP RECTITUDE.
great inquiry as to the propriety or impropriety of those
passions, and of the conduct to which they lead." To the
importance of this admission, reference tias been already
made. It is, indeed, manifest, that we must either admit
that every state of mind, of every human being, is right —
and right because it exists ; — or that we must seek for some
moral rule, by which to try its rectitude. Now Dr. Brown
places that standard, as we have seen, not in the law of
God, not in any thing exterior to the mind, but in the mind
itself, in one of its own states, or affections. Those ac-
tions and affections which excite certain emotions of ap-
probation, are right, and right on that account. But are
not emotions of approbation affections of the mind? And
must we not, accordingly, on his own principles, institute
an inquiry concerning their " propriety, or impropriety ?"
If, with regard to other emotions, it is not enough to know
that the mind is susceptible of them, or that, on a certain
occasion, they actually exist, why should it be considered
enough to know this with reference to the emotions of
moral approbation and disapprobation ? Since we are not
to take it for granted that any other affection is right be-
cause it exists, why should we sit down with the assu-
rance that the affection of moral approbation is right be-
cause it exists ? It is necessary not only to have a moral
measure of the rectitude of actions, but to be certain of its
accuracy. Dr. Brown takes the feelings of approbation
and disapprobation as the moral measure of all other affec-
tions. The first step in the process, then, on his system,
is to prove the accuracy of his measure, and the conse-
quent rectitude of every action which is conformed to it.
Now what proof has Dr. Brown of the accuracy of his mea-
sure ? He does not produce any. Emotions of approba-
tion are affections of mind ; but affections of mind are not
proved to be right, by his own concession, by their exist-
ence. And yet affections of mind, the rectitude of which,
on Dr. Brown's own principles, requires to be proved, but
of which no proof either is, or can be, given, are the only
standard by which other affections are to be tried ! It is
obvious that the Doctor takes for granted the propriety of
the feelings of approbation ; and, indeed, that he must do
SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 41S
SO. And, taking this for granted, the system supplies us
with no certain measure of the rectitude of any action, or
of any affection of mind whatever. The correctness of the
rule not being verified, we can have no confidence in rela-
tion to the correctness of any thing that is measured by it.
The whole system of morals is thus involved in doubt and
uncertainty ; and it is impossible, on this scheme, for any
man to know, whether he deserves the vengeance, or the
love, of his fellow-men.
The charge which has thus been brought against the
system of Dr. Brown, is, it is conceived, established. He
practically forgets the distinction between that which is,
and that which ought to be. We approve of certain ac-
tions, and aflfections ; and they are right, because we so
approve of them ; i. e. we gather our knowledge of the rec-
titude of one affection, from the existence of another affec-
tion. How was it possible for this acute writer to avoid
perceiving, that he has no more right to take for granted
the rectitude of the feeling of moral approbation, than the
rectitude of any other feeling ? And that until he has
proved the correctness of his measure, or rule, it will be
impossible to prove the rectitude of any action, or affection,
which is compared with it ?
I have dwelt the longer on this point, because the influ*
ence of this mistake, as I cannot but deem it, is visible in
the whole of his disquisitions on the subject of morals —
many of which are of great value, though the oversight to
which we refer is a serious drawback upon their importance.
He encounters those who deny that there is any distinction
between virtue and vice — those who maintain, with Hobbes,
that this distinction is the mere result of political enact-
ment — and especially Hume, and the selfish system, as he
denominates it, in the same manner, and on the same prin-
ciples. We approve certain actions on the instant of con-
templating them ; they are, therefore, virtuous actions —
thus considering what is, an infallible measure of what
ought to be,
I have said that this oversight comes into prominent view
in his eloquent attack upon those who rest the foundation
416 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE,
of virtue upon utilitj^ either public or private. The cur-
rent of his reasoning is as follows : We do not approve of
an action because it is adapted to promote the good of so-
ciety, nor because it tends to the benefit of the individual,
either in this world or the next. Our approbation is given
previously to any calculation of consequences ; and, there-
fore, the tendency of the action, he argues, to promote
either public or private benefit, is not that which gives it
the character of virtue.
Now, I have no doubt, that the foregoing account states
the fact correctly — that we do approve of actions without
any reference to their consequences. Nor do I oppose the
sentiment, that actions are not rendered virtuous by their
beneficial tendency. But I deny that this is a legitimate
conclusion from the premises. For, as the approbation of
which he speaks, is an affection of mind, the question ob-
viously recurs, " Are we right in approving actions without
any reference to their tendency, or consequences ? Is it
certainly the case, that what we approve, is worthy of ap-
probation ?" If it be so, how are we to support the cor-
rectness of the Doctor's own statement, " that after we
know that a man has certain affections, there still remains
the great inquiry concerning their propriety, or improprie-
ty?" Unless we admit that man is what he ought to be,
it is impossible, consistently to maintain, that any actual
feeling whatever, in any case of its occurrence, is right,
because it exists. Susceptibilities of feeling, indeed, be-
longing to the physical nature of man^ must be allowed to
be what they should be, from the bare fact of their exist-
ence. But, as mere susceptibilities, i. e., capabilities of
feeling, they have obviously no moral character whatever.
The susceptibilities of exercising love, hatred, fear, anger,
&,c., render us capable of becoming virtuous or vicious ;
but they are, themselves, neither virtuous nor vicious. It
is only when they are developed — or rather to the affec-
tions which grow out of them, that a moral character can
attach ; and, as it is admitted, on all hands, that there
may be an improper developement of all our affections^ it
is manifest, that no particular instance of their develope-
SYSTEM OP DR. BROWN. 417
ment can be proved to be right, by the mere fact of the
developement itself.
Thus Dr. Brown's system confounds what is, with what
ought to be ; and it places the foundation of virtue in the
arbitrary constitution of the mind. I must not forget to
notice the very ingenious manner in which our author at-
tempts to parry the objection which Dr. Price brings, on
this account, against the theory of Hutcheson. Dr. Price
refers our moral sentiments to reason. There is an eternal
and immutable distinction, he says, between right and
wrong; and the understanding perceives this, as it per-
ceives the difference between truth and falsehood, &c.
This statement, replies Dr. Brown, is exposed to the very
same objection with the one for which it is offered as a
substitute ; since reason is but a principle of our mental
frame, like the principle which is the source of moral
emotions. " What we term reason, is only a brief ex-
pression of a number of separate feelings of relation, of
which the mind might, or might not, have been formed to
be susceptible, and has no peculiar claim to remain un-
altered."*
Now this reply of Dr. Brown would be valid, I appre-
hend, if the argument of Dr. Price were — a certain action
or affection is virtuous, because we perceive it to be so^
There is no difference, in this point of view, whether we
say we perceive, or, with Dr. Brown, we feel an action to
be virtuous. If we rest its claim to the praise of rectitude
on our judgments, or our emotions, we are confounding
what is, with what ought to be ; and, placing the founda-
tion of rectitude in the arbitrary constitution of our minds.
But the argument of Dr. Price is, or was intended to be, —
there are moral distinctions in actions; and, therefore,
God has rendered the human mind capable of apprecia-
ting them. If certain affections and actions appear to the
judgment to be right, and if there be no reason to sup-
pose, that the view we thus take of them is influenced by
the moral infirmity of our nature, there is good reason to
*Vol. IV. p. 179.
53
418 THE NATURE OF KECTlTtJDE.
m/er, that they are right affections and actions. God
cannot be supposed to have given us an erring judgment.
The theory of Dr. Brown, is very different. He does not
infer that an action is in itself right, because the mind
has been formed to approve it. There is, he says, on the
contrary, no virtue in actions. They are virtuous, because
they are approved ;— a statement similar to the following
declaration on the part of Dr. Price, if he could be sup-
posed to utter such a statement, — " Actions are virtuous,
because they are perceived to be so."
Fourthly^ It is necessarily involved in Dr. Brown's
principles, that there might be virtue in a nation of athe-
ists. The denial of the Divine existence does not effect
a radical alteration in the mental constitution. The athe-
ist, as well as the theist, feels the emotion of approbation
on the contemplation of certain actions. Now, accord-
ing to the statements of Dr. Brown, to feel morally obliged
to perform an action, is to be sensible, that we could not
neglect it without incurring our own disapprobation, as
well as the disapprobation of others ; to be virtuous, or
to have merit, is to have acted in such a manner as to have
obtained this approbation. What is there, then, to render
it impossible, that an atheist should feel this sort of obli-
gation — should become the subject of virtue, in this sense
of the term ? obviously nothing. Expunging from his
creed altogether the doctrine of the Divine existence, he
might yet be strictly virtuous. I know not, indeed, whe-
ther this would be denied by Dr. Brown. Certain it is,
that, in one of the most objectionable passages in his
whole work, he declares, that there may be virtue, where
there is no regard to the Divine authority in what we do,
nor, indeed, any thought of the Divine existence. And if
there may be virtue where God is forgotten, I see not why
it should not exist where his very being is denied. " The
question is not," says he, " whether it be virtue to conform
our will to that of the Deity, when that will is revealed to
us, or clearly implied, for of this there can be no doubt.
It is, whether there be not in our nature, a principle of
moral obligation, from which our feelings of obligation.
SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 419
virtue, merit, flow, and which operates not independently
of the Divine will indeed, for it was the Divine will which
implanted in us this very principle, — but without the ne-
cessary consideration at the time, of the expression of the
Divine will ; and, consequently, without any intentional
conformity to it, or disobedience, or which, in our obedi-
ence itself, as often as we think of the Divine will, is the
very principle by which we feel the duty of such conform-
ity. The mother, though she should, at the moment, forget
altogether, that there is a God in nature, would still turn,
with moral horror, from the thought of murdering the little
prattler, who is sporting on her knee ; and who is not more
beautiful to her eye, by external charms and graces, than
beautiful to her heart, by the thousand tendernesses which
every day, and almost every hour, is developing ; while the
child who has, perhaps, scarcely heard that there is a God,
or who, at least, is ignorant of any will of God, in con-
formity with which virtue consists, is still in his very igno-
rance, developing these moral feelings which are supposed
to be inconsistent with such ignorance ; and would not
have the same feeling of complacency, in repaying the
parental caresses with acts of intentional injury, as when
he repays them with expressions of intentional love. Of
all the mothers, who, at this time, are exercised, and vir-
tuously exercised, in maternal duties around the cradles of
their infants, there is, perhaps, not one who is thinking
that God has commanded her to love her offspring, and to
perform for them the many offices of love, that are neces-
sary for preserving the lives that are so dear to her. The
expression of the Divine will, indeed, not merely gives us
new and nobler duties to perform — it gives a new and
nobler delight, also, to the very duties which our nature
prompts, and the violation of which is felt as moral
wrong, even when God is known and worshipped, only as
a demon of power, still less benevolent than the very bar-
barians, who howl around his altar in their savage sacri-
fices."*
* Vpl. lY. pp. 108, Q,
420 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
i cannot see how it is possible for a Christian moralist
to do otherwise than strongly condemn this passage.
Why did not the Doctor refer us to the parent brute,
guarding her young with manifest tenderness as a speci-
men of virtue ? In what does the mother, supposed by
Brown, differ from the brute ? Her watching around the
cradle of her young, is not the result of any regard to
God — not prompted by a sense of duty ; but by mere
animal aifection. " I see not," says one, " on what
ground the mere instinctive exercise of these affections,
which are common to us with the lower animals, should
be dignified with the sacred appellation of virtue. There
is virtue in the exercise of our feelings and faculties only
when they are intentionally made subservient to the great
and ultimate end of our being."
On this account, it is said that " the very ploughing of
the wicked is sin" — that the " sacrifices of the wicked
are abomination to the Lord" — that " they who are in
the flesh cannot please God." They do what nature
prompts ; but to act merely under the promptings of
nature, without any intentional conformity to the require-
ments of duty, will not secure, if we take the New Testa-
ment for our guide, the divine approbation ; and, there-
fore, such conduct cannot deserve the sacred appellation
of virtue. Scripture morality requires that " whatever
we do in word or deed, we should do all in the name of
the Lord ;" — that whether we eat or drink, or whatever
we do, all should be done to the glory of God.
Fifthly^ it attaches, as a necessary consequence to the
system of Dr. Brown, that the most flagitious actions may,
in particular circumstances, not merely lose their turpitude,
but become positively virtuous. The moral obligation to
abstain from an action, is the feeling that, by committing
it, we should forfeit our own approbation, and that of
others. The moral obligation to perform an action, is, on
the other hand, the feeling that by performing it, we should
secure the approbation of both. There is, accordingly,
no obligation to perform any action when this feeling,
which is the only in^pelling principle, does not exist. This,
SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 421
indeed, seems to be allowed by Dr. Brown himself. " If
there had been no moral emotions to arise on the con-
templation of certain actions, there would have been no
virtue, vice, merit, or demerit, which express only rela-
tions to these emotions." It is true, this statement merely
affirms, that if we had not been formed susceptible of
moral emotions, there would have been no vice or virtue
in the world. But if the emotion constitutes the only
binding force — the only moral obligation to perform an
action, what ditference does it make, I ask, whether, when
an action is contemplated, we are destitute of that emo-
tion by constitutional defect, or through the operation of
any other circumstance ? If the emotion is not there, the
moral obligation is not there. There is nothing to render
it a duty to perform the action. It is true, we may have
violated duty at a previous step of the process. We may
have neglected those measures, which, had they been
adopted, would have secured the existence of the emotion
at the time referred to. Yet still, as to be morally obliged,
on the scheme of Dr. Brown, is to feel that if such an ac-
tion be neglected, we shall forfeit the approbation of the
wise and good, as well as our own, I see not how the con-
clusion is to be avoided, that there can be no sin in not
performing an action, when we do not feel in the manner
described. This, however, is not all. It clearly follows,
in addition to this, as we have stated, that if any action,
however flagitious it may be, be contemplated with an
emotion of approbation, the performance of that action
becomes a duty. If the approving feeling be there, the
moral obligation must be there also. And, in that case,
infanticide, and parricide, and theft, are actions not merely
to be in certain instances palliated, but morally applauded.
It was the absolute duty of Paul to persecute the church
of God ; for " he verily thought within himself, that he
ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of
Nazareth ;" for this conduct, however, he regarded him-
self as standing in need of mercy. His previous conduct,
in neglecting to avail himself of the means of instruction,
according to Dr. Brown's principles, may, indeed, have
42:^ THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
been morally wrong ; but the cruelties he practised were
morally right. It is in vain to say that his ignorance was
voluntary, and, therefore, his conduct was wrong. To
maintain the guilt of a man who does wrong, when he
thinks himself in the right, we must suppose that there is
a moral obligation to actions which is totally independent
of the state of feeling of the agent, and this the views of
Dr. Brown will not allow him to admit.
IV. The assertion of an essential difference between
right and wrong, is opposed to the sentiments of those
who maintain that the consequences of actions impart to
them their moral character — or, in other words, who place
the foundation of virtue in utility. Amongst the advo-
cates of this system, there are two leading divisions.
Some make the utility to be private, and individual ; thus
considering virtue to be nothing more than a well-regu-
lated self-love : while others set up the standard of general
utility, and consider an action to be virtuous, because of
its tendency to promote the general welfare. As to the
best criterion of ascertaining it, there is also a difference
of opinion. Some refer to the light of nature as suf-
ficient for the purpose, while others acknowledge the will
of the Deity to be the rule. Both contend, however, that
the action, in whatever way it may be ascertained to be
right, is right merely because of its utility. This theory
of morals has been defended by Christian writers, as well
as by infidels ; it is worthy, therefore, of particular con-
sideration. Some of the principal arguments in support
of this system are the following.
1st, It is conceived to be the best system, because it is
capable of general application. All the virtues are use-
ful, and whatever system be adopted, no action can be re-
garded as right but what is deemed to possess this pro-
perty. If, therefore, every action with which we are ac-
quainted, be, in point of fact, useful, we are authorized to
consider utility as the reason of its being right.
2d, To lay the foundation of virtue in utility, is to place
it on an intelligible footing. " To refer to the fitness of
things, or the moral sense, is to use phrases that not one
THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 423
in a thousand of the common people clearly understand.
But, on the other hand, to say that an action is right be-
cause it promotes the general interests of mankind, is to
assign a reason that is immediately understood."
3d, It is asserted that the positive and comparative
worth of human actions is generally determined by some
view of their utility. Thus, if actions be compared, that
action which has the greatest measure of benefit to the
greatest number of individuals, resulting from it, is alleged
to be the most virtuous action. It is contended that utility
has a close connexion with all our sympathetic feelings,
and best accounts for the emotions and affections which
follow our actions. Hence the satisfaction we feel in con-
templating a benevolent action, or a just action performed
by others, and the complacency of which we are con-
scious in performing such actions ourselves."
4th, Dr. Dwight argues that virtue must have its founda-
tion in utility, because there is no ultimate good but hap-
piness. Virtue is the means of happiness, and like all
other species of means, is only valuable on account of
the end to which it leads. " If virtue," says he, " brought
with it no enjoyment to us, and produced not happiness
to others, it would be wholly destitute of all the impor-
tance, beauty, and glory, with which it is now invested.
Virtue, therefore, must have its foundation in utility."
And again, " were sin to produce the same good with
virtue, no reason is apparent to me, why it would not be-
come excellent and rewardable. Were virtue to produce
the same evil with vice, I see no reason why we should
not attribute to it all the odiousness, blame-worthiness,
and desert of punishment which we now attribute to sin."
5th, It may be alleged that nothing can render it a duty
to do any thing which is contrary to our own welfare,
taking the whole of our being into the account. The
command of God himself, could we conceive of his issu-
ing a command at variance with our ultimate happiness,
must be inoperative, nay, ought to be inoperative, here.
The tendency of an action then to promote our happiness,
taking the whole of our being into the account, must be
424 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
that which renders it a duty, or gives to it the character of
rectitude.
In proceeding to examine the system which has been
briefly detailed, it may be expedient to show how far we
are agreed with its advocates.
1st, It is, then, freely granted, that virtue is character-
ized by utility — or that virtuous actions are beneficial. It
does not, however, follow as a legitimate consequence
from this circumstance, that they owe their rectitude to
their utility. The subjects of God's moral government
sustain various important relations to him, and to each
other. Actions which correspond with these relations,
are both virtuous and beneficial ; and, therefore, though
always useful, it is not necessary to suppose that they are
virtuous because they are useful. When the materialist
tells us that sensation and thought must be the properties
of a certain system of organized matter, because they in-
variably accompany it, and are never found but in con-
nexion with it, we meet his assertion with a negative, on
the ground that God may have established a connexion
between a certain state of the brain, and the manifesta-
tion of vital phgenomena, though the organization is not
the cause of the phajnomena. In like manner, God may
have established a connexion between certain actions,
and the happiness of mankind, though the tendency of
these actions to secure happiness, does not give to them
the character of virtue.
2dly, It may be further granted, with reference to many
subjects of political enactment, that what is expedient is
right. But, it must be remembered, that these enact-
ments regard things which are, in themselves, morally in-
different. The Supreme Legislature may determine whe-
ther a particular tax shall be imposed ; but they must not
pass an act authorizing theft, or murder. And the recti-
tude which these decisions give to actions, is rather a legal
than a moral rectitude ; unless, indeed, the conduct they
enjoin, may be said to derive a moral character from the
obligation under which every individual lies, to seek the
good of the nation, and to yield obedience to its laws.
EXAMINATION OF THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 425
3dly, ft may, also, be granted, "that cases may arise,
which may require a particular reference to utility and
expediency, in order to their determination." Still these
concessions do not imply that actions are right, because
they are beneficial ; all they prove is, that, by their being
beneficial, we may ascertain them to be right. " Utility
may be a criterion of virtue, without being the criterion 5
and it might be even the criterion, without being the ulti-
mate reason of duty. Did we admit the universality of
expediency, as a test, it would not prove the action to be
right on that account ; it would only prove, that this was
the best or safest rule by which to discover its rectitude."
Finally^ I am very ready to admit, that nothing could
render it our duty to do what would endanger our well-
being during the whole extent of our existence. This
may result, however, from that which is involved in the
ultimate and everlasting loss of well-being. To be eter-
nally miserable, is to be an eternal enemy to God ; on
this account, nothing should lead us to risk the loss of
eternal happiness. We are formed to desire our own
happiness — in point of fact, all men actually desire, and
pursue, that which they consider likely to promote it.
But to say that we must pursue it, as a matter of duty —
that we are guilty^ as well as imprudent, if this be not our
conduct — that no consideration whatever will justify our
disregarding it for a season, (and if for a season, why not
for ever ?) is more than I should choose to maintain. It
may, therefore, be allowed, that nothing can render it a
duty to risk our eternal salvation, without embracing the
sentiment, that the tendency of an action to promote our
welfare, is that which gives it the character of virtue.
In opposition to the theory which founds virtue in uti*
lity, I observe.
Firsts that it is at variance with the manner, and cir*
cumstances, in which moral emotions arise in the mind.
That God has formed us susceptible of such emotions,
7. c. capable of vividly approving, or disapproving, certain-
actions and affections, has been conceded to Dr. Brown ;.
while we hesitate, recollecting the moral pravity of our
54
426 THE NATURE OP RECTITUDE.
race, to admit that those actions which we approve, are
certainly right on that account. Still it must be atimitted,
that our inquiries into the nature of virtue, will be aided
by observing the manner in which the emotions in ques-
tion arise. For if, in point of fact, they are awakened not
by any view of the utility of the action—- if they arise
previously to any calculation, or even thought, of its uti-
lity, and entirely through the influence of other conside-
rations — and if this rise of the .emotions cannot be sup-
posed to be the result of any moral obliquity introduced
by sin ; — it must, in that case, be admitted, that they form
correct criteria of virtue. What we actually approve,
may be regarded, under the limitations suggested above,
as indicating what we were originally formed to approve.
And if God has not formed us to approve an action, on
account of its tendency to promote either our benefit, or
that of others, we may surely infer, that it does not derive
its rectitude from its usefulness to ourselves, or others. It
is not to be supposed, that we have been formed to ap-
prove actions which are not right — " or so, as that we do
not, and cannot, approve that in them which constitutes
their rectitude, but something, on the other hand, which
does not constitute it." The question is, then, one of
fact. Do we give our approbation to actions on account
of their utility ? The inquiry shall be made in reference
both to private and public utility.
(1.) Is our approbation given to actions on account of
their bearing upon our personal interest, or welfare ? That
we must reply to this question in the negative, it appears
to me impossible to doubt. A seemingly generous man,
comes prominently forward to the relief of a very deser-
ving individual, who had been reduced to great distress.
He delivers him from prison, rescues him from penury,
places him in business, opens the way for him to wealth
and happiness. We approve and admire his disinterested
and distinguished kindness. After the lapse of a short
period, however, events occur to induce a suspicion, that
we have misconceived the motives under the impulse of
which he acted. Circumstances render it but too mani-
EXAMINATION OF THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 427
fest, that real sympathy with the unfortunate sufferer, had
little or no influence upon his mind — that he had merely
made use of his distress as a foundation on which to build
a reputation for splendid liberality. Our feelings of ap-
probation instantly subside. Nay, the obliged individual,
himself, ceases to approve the conduct of his benefactor.
But, if virtue be the tendency of an action to promote in-
dividual benefit, why should he do this ? Though he has
become more enlightened in relation to the motives of his
patron, he still continues to enjoy the substantial benefits
of his liberality. The fact is incompatible with the notion,
that the emotion of approbation, is awakened by the ten-
dency of an action to promote individual benefit. " Let
us imagine, that some human demon, a Nero, a Tiberius,
a Caligula, were to show to any one of us, all the king-
doms of the world, and to say, * All these thou shalt have,
if thou wilt but esteem me," — would our esteem arise at
all more readily 1 Should we feel, in that case, for the
guilty offerer of so many means of happiness, a single
emotion like that which we feel for the humblest virtue
of one, who, we know, never can be of any aid to our
worldly advancement? If a virtuous action be, in itself,
nothing, except as a source of personal gain, why, in such
a case Jis that which I have supposed, does not our heart
feel its sentiments of esteem and abhorrence vary with
every new accession of happiness which is promised to us?
At first, indeed, we may feel a loathing for the tyrant, —
not because tyranny is, in itself, less worthy of approbation
than the mildest benevolence, — but because it may be more
injurious to our interest. It would require no trifling equi-
valent; but still, as it is only a quantity of injury which is
dreaded, an equivalent may be found ; and, with every new
bribe for our esteem, there is of course a nearer approach
to this equivalent. Our abhorrence should gradually sub-
side into slight indignation, and this into very slight dislike,
and this again, when the bribe is increased, become at
length some slight emotion of approbation, which may
rise, with the still increasing bribe, through all the stages
of love, — through esteem, respect, veneration, — till we feel
428 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
ultimately for the tyrant, whose power is to us a source of
so much happiness, all that devotion of the heart which
we so readily yield to power that is exerted for the benefit
of mankind. When we labour to think of this progress-
ive transmutation of moral sentiment, while the guilty ob-
ject of it continues the same, in every respect, but as he
offers a greater or less bribe for our affection, — do we not
feel, by the inconsistency which strikes us at every supposed
stage of the progress, that affection, — the pure affection
which loves virtue and hates vice, — is not any thing which
could be bought, but by that noble price which is the vir-
tue itself, that is honoured by us ; and that to bribe us to
love what is viewed by us with horror, or to hate what is
viewed by us with tenderness or reverence, is an attempt
as hopeless, as it would be to bribe us to regard objects as
purple which are yellow, or yellow which are purple ? We
may indeed agree, by a sacrifice of truth, to call that pur-
ple which we see to be yellow, as we may agree, by a still
more profligate sacrifice of every noble feeling, to offer to
tyranny the homage of our adulation, — to say to the mur-
derer of Tharasia Paetus, ' thou hast done well,' — to the
parricide who murdered Agrippina, ' thou hast done more
than well.' As every new victim falls, we may lift our
voice in still louder flattery. We may fall at the proud
feet,— we may beg as a boon, the honour of kissing that
bloody hand which has been lifted against the helpless ;
we may do more, — we may bring the altar and the sacri-
fice, ^nd implore the god not to ascend too soon to hea-
ven. This we may do, for this we have the sad remem-
brance, that beings of a human form, and sons, have done*
But this is all which we can do. We can constrain our
tongue to be false ; our features to bend themselves to the
semblance of that passionate adoration which we wish to
express ; our knees to fall prostrate ; but our heart we can-
not constrain. There, virtue must still have a voice which
is not to be drowned by hymns and acclamations, — there
the crimes which we laud as virtues, are crimes still, — and
he whom we have made a god is the most contemptible of
mankind ; — if, indeed, we do not feel perhaps that we are
EXAMINATION OP THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 429
ourselves still more contemptible. When is it, I may ask,
that the virtue of any one appears to us most amiable ? Is
it when it seems attended by every thing that can excite the
envy even of the wicked, — with wealth, with power, with
all which is commonly termed good fortune ; and when,
if its influence on our emotions depend on the mere images
of enjoyment which it suggests, these may surely be sup-
posed to arise most readily ? It is amiable, indeed, even
in such circumstances ; but how much more interesting is
it to us, when it is loaded with afflictions from which it
alone can derive happiness ? It is Socrates in the prison
of whom we think — Aristides in exile, — and perhaps Cato,
whatever comparative esteem he might have excited,
would have been little more interesting in our eyes than
Caesar himself, if Caesar had not been a successful usurper."*
Should it be said that, in considering the tendency of
an action to promote our individual benefit, we must take
the whole of our being into the account — and that we are
accordingly not entitled to consider any action as virtuous
which is not in this highest sense useful ; I answer that,
even according to this statement, certainly less objection-
able than the other, rectitude is only a matter of prudence.
The difference between virtue and vice is precisely the
same in kind with that which exists between different
speculators in the market of commerce, who have em-
ployed their capital more or less advantageously in the
different bargains that have been oflered to them. The
individual who chooses the pleasures of sin, in preference
to the glories of eternity, acts, it must be admitted, a most
unwise and imprudent part ; but what more can be said of
his conduct ? To charge him with blame, in acting so
imprudently, is to utter words without meaning. The lan-
guage implies that there is a distinction between what is
right, and what is prudent, which the sentiment I am
opposing denies. We regard what is called a prudent
man, and a virtuous man, with very different feelings, and
our emotions of moral approbation are only given to the
Brown. Vol. IV. p. 70—73.
430 THE NATURE OP RECTITUDE.
latter. It is of no consequence in this point of view whe-
ther the individual be prudent for time or eternity. Could
we conceive of a person abstaining from all sin, and doing
all that the law of God requires, and influenced at the
same time by no conviction of duty, by no sense of obli-
gation to God, by no regard to his glory — but by the mere
instinctive desire of securing his own happiness, we should
follow him, I imagine, through his whole course on earth,
and see him enter heaven at last, were it possible for such
a man to gain admission there, without a single plaudit of
approbation.
Our emotions of approbation are not then, in point of
fact, awakened by the bearing of actions upon our indi-
vidual benefit. Now, if man were what he ought to be,
this circumstance would supply decisive proof that actions
do not derive their virtue from private utility. He is not,
however, what he ought to be ; he is a depraved being.
Yet the rise of the emotion, previous to any thought of
the consequences of the action approved, does not seem
to be the result of depravity. It cannot, indeed, be sup-
posed for a moment to be so. We may, therefore, fairly
conclude that the moral emotions of which we speak are
developements of an original susceptibility of mind. And
if God has not formed the mind to approve an action on
account of its private utility, it follows, according to our
previous reasoning, that it is not approvable on that
account, — or, in other words, that virtue is not founded in
private utility.
(2.) Is it true that our approbation is given to actions on
account of their general utility ? It appears to me that Dr.
Brown has supported the negation of this position with a
power of argument not to be shaken. Our consciousness,
if we appeal to it, will tell us, that admiration, not moral
approbation, is awakened by what is merely beneficial. If
any one should doubt this, I would ask him how he can
otherwise explain the fact, that intelligent agents are exclu-
sively approved? Utility is to be found not in the actions
of voluntary agents alone, but in inanimate matter. A ship,
a steam-engine, a printing-press, have contributed a fai*
SISf!
EXAMINATION OF THE SELFISH ^wTF^ T TT
siTy
greater amount to the happiness of the ^t(g^^ jJhaoa*Dy
single action of any human being. Why tf
approve of and morally respect these inventionsT
do we not regard " a chest of drawers," to use the illus-
tration of Dr. Smith, with the same feelings with which
we contemplate the conduct of the Christian ? That
we do not is indisputable. The emotions which are
produced by what is useful, and what is morally good,
are feelings as different as any two feelings which are
not absolutely opposite; and if we class them as the
same, we may with as much reason class as the same
our moral veneration, and our sensation of fragrance,
because they are both pleasing. If virtue, however, be
founded in utility, it is indisputable that a man of virtue,
and a chest of drawers, ought to be regarded with exactly
the same feelings. The only way of escaping from this
consequence is to tell us, that it is only utility in certain
voluntary actions of living beings that awakens approba-
tion< The reply of Brown is triumphant. " Does he not
perceive, however, that in making this limitation, he has
conceded the very point in question ? He admits that, the
actions of men are not valued merely as being useful, in
which case they must have ranked in virtue with all things
that are useful, exactly according to their place in the scale
of utility, — but for something which may be useful, or rather
which is useful, yet which merely as useful, never could
have excited the feelings which it excites when considered
as a voluntary choice of good. He admits an approvable-
ness then, peculiar to living and voluntary agents, a capa-
city of exciting certain vivid moral emotions, which are
not commensurable with any utility, since no accession of
mere utility could produce them. In short, he admits every
thing for which the assertor of the peculiar and essential
distinctions of virtue contends ; and all which he gains by
his verbal distinction of utilities is, that his admission of the
doctrine which he professes to oppose, is tacit only, not
open and direct." The cause of the mistake, which iden-
tifies utility and virtue, has been referred to already, and is
thus well stated by a late writer :— " That there is a close
432 THE NATURE OP RECTITUDE.
connexion between virtue and happiness* so close that'with-
out it the universe would become a splendid mansion of
misery, is not to be doubted ; and it is chiefly because this
connexion is felt and observed by all, that certain writers
have been led to maintain, that virtue solely consists in
utility, or in its tendency to happiness, and that the law by
which we are to regulate our conduct is to be found in what
appears to us to be conducive to happiness. They have been
led to embrace this opinion with the greater confidence,
that they have observed how much its truth holds in regard
to men invested with public offices and public trust. Men
in such circumstances are, doubtless, bound to act for the
good of the community. But they are bound so to act,
because it is their duty to love their neighbours as them-
selves, to respect the rights of others as they do their own,
and, consequently, to promote their happiness to the extent
of their power and opportunity.""*
In consequence of this connexion between virtue and
utility, we approve of actions which tend to general happi-
ness. The important question, however, says Dr. Brown,
is whether the specific amount of utility, be that which we
have in view, in the approbation we give to certain actions,
— whether we love the generosity of our benefactor with an
emotion exactly the same in kind, however different it may
be in degree, as that with which we love the bank bill, or
the estate which he may have given us. This he very justly
denies. Were it the case that our approbation is founded
on utility, is it not manifest that the consequences of an ac-
tion must be present to our view, before we could approve
it ? This, however, is not the case. " Who is there," says
Brown, "that in the contemplation of Thermopylae, and
of the virtues that have made that desolate spot for ever
sacred to us, can think of Leonidas and his little band
without any emotion of reverence, till the thought occur,
how useful it must be to nations to have rulers so intrepid f
Our admiration is not so tardy a calculator. It is instant
in all its fervor." To the same effect adds another writer :
— " We approve or disapprove of actions, however, nor
* Dewar, Vol. II. p. 44.
EXAMINATION OF THE SELFI^S^STEM. 4^3
because of their tendency to happiness, or the contrary,
but in consequence of the moral constitution of our nature;
which constitution, as God is its author, we are to regard
as furnishing an expression of his will. How few of man-
kind ever think, or have ever thought, of the relation be-
tween virtue and happiness ! Do we not give our admira-
tion to the virtuous patriot, to the benefactors of our race
who has loved their race more than their own ease or lives,
before we have considered the good which they were in»
strumental in conferring ? Would not the noble career of
Howard procure for him a place in the grateful affections
of every human heart, irrespectively of the consequences
which are to flow from it, and before these consequences
had been placed in the view of the mind ? He who has
formed us in his own image has not rendered it necessary
for us to observe relations, and to estimate tendencies and
effects, previously to our approving of an action as right, or
of disapproving of it as wrong ; and being conscious that
we love virtue and hate vice without reference to conse-
quences, merely because they are virtue and vice, we justly
infer, that it is not on account of their consequences that
virtue is lovely and vice hateful, that the one produces the
emotion of approbation and the other of disapprobation."*
The amount of the preceding statement is, that as God
has not formed us to approve actions on account of their
general utility, they are not virtuous, or approvable on that
account. The statement does not forget, but, on the con-
trary, proceeds on a careful remembrance of the important
distinction which exists between what is, and what ought
to be. Our susceptibilities of moral emotion are exactly
what they ought to be, because they constitute an original
and essential part of our moral nature. With reference
to the developements of these susceptibilities — or actual
emotions of approbation — it must be conceded that they
also are what they ought to be, unless it can be shown that,
in any particular instance, the feeling of approbation may
be the result of that injury which our moral nature has sus-
* Dewar, Vol. n. pp.43, 64
55
434 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
tained through the entrance of sin. We have seen that
though what is virtuous is also useful, it is not approved
because it is useful — that the emotion arises, in innumera-
ble instances, previously to any consideration of conse-
quences. Now as the rise of the emotion cannot be ascri-
bed to the moral obliquity of our nature, it may be regarded
as marking what is, and what is not virtue.
Before I leave this part of the subject, I would observe
that our actual emotions of approbation, constitute a more
accurate criterion of virtue (1 say criterion, because if man
were what he ought to be, they would merely supply a rule
— they would not exhibit the foundation of virtue) than
my argument has hitherto rendered it necessary for me to
assume. I cannot, indeed, allow that they are an infallible
standard because the moral infirmity of our nature affects
the developement of all our susceptibilities, though it has
extinguished none, and created none. Yet, perhaps, the
feelings of moral approbation, and disapprobation, are less
affected by it than almost any other. The heart is some-
timiBs sadly polluted, while the moral faculties retain a con-
siderable portion at least of their primitive rectitude. There
is an important distinction between the approbation of the
judgment and conscience, and the approbation of the heart.
The number is not small of those who approve the good,
while they follow that which is evil. The Gentiles, in the
days of the Apostles, polluted as were their hearts, and de-
testable as was their conduct, were yet a law to themselves
— " their consciences accused, or excused one another."
It is the last item in the charge of the inspired writer
against those who held the truth in righteousness, that they
not only did those things which they knew to be worthy of
death, but had pleasure in them that did them. Even this,
however, intends rather that they loved their company,
than that they approved their conduct. In further oppo-
sition to this theory of virtue, I observe,
Secondly^ that it cannot be reconciled with the princi-
ple on which the practice of moral duties is enforced
upon us in the Sacred Scriptures. It has been justly re-
marked, " that whatever theory be assumed, that man
EXAMINATION OP THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 435
who has the most entire regard to the principle tliat con-
stitutes moral obligation, possesses the greatest degree of
virtue." If virtue derive its very character and existence
from legislative enactment, he who is most generally and
exclusively influenced by the authority of the law of his
country, has the greatest share of virtue. On the same
ground, if moral rectitude be the tendency of an action
to promote our individual benefit, or the welfare of society
at large, the palm of superior moral excellence must be
given to him who pays the most exclusive regard to his
own interest, or the general good, as his system ought to
lead him. Let it be once conceded that virtue has its
foundation in private utility, and it will necessarily follow
that the man who throws away all concern about the
welfare of his fellow-creatures — who looks at nothing,
and thinks of nothing, and pursues nothing, but his oAvn
private interests — sacrificing the interests of others, and
the glory . of God, if they appear to him to stand in his
way, and forgetting them when they do not — is the indi-
vidual who is the most entitled to the approbation of his
fellow-men ! Who can believe it ? Or, let it be granted
that virtue is founded in public, rather than private utility,
and " mutatis mutandis,^'' similar consequences will un-
avoidably follow.
Now it needs but a cursory inspection of the records
of divine truth, to discover that this is not the ultimate
ground, or reason, on which practical religion is enforced
upon us by the Sacred Writers. Instead of commanding
us whether we eat or drink, or whatsoever we do, to aim
at the promotion of public or private benefit, their lan-
guage is, " do all to the glory of God." A regard to the
approbation and to the honour of the Most High, is
uniformly represented as the highest motive — the most
powerful consideration by which a rightly-disposed mind
can be influenced. And though inferior motives do
frequently operate, and, on account of their moral weight,
are sometimes appealed to, yet the general statements of
the Sacred Volume render it indisputable that a man
rises in the scale of moral excellence, in proportion as self
436 THE NATURE OP RECTITUDE^.
is annihilated, and as he manifests an habitual regard to
that motive by which the Deity himself is influenced in
the whole of his works.
If virtue had its foundation either in public or private
utility, there could be nothing evil which tends to good.
What then is the meaning of the prohibition, " not to do
evil, that good may come ?" The language is perfectly
unintelligible, except on the supposition, that the recti-
tude, and expedience, of an action, are entirely distinct
things ; and that, though what is right may be generally
expedient, there are cases of exception. In this passage
we are commanded to keep rectitude, not expedience, in
view — a command utterly incompatible with that account
of the nature of virtue upon which we are now animad-
verting. The observation of Paley on this command, af-
fords a striking proof of the baneful influence of the sys-
tem of expediency ; " for the most part," says he, " a
salutary caution !" How different from the language of
Paul! How different from his manly and spirited con-
clusion, *' Let God be true, and every man a liar."
The preceding discussion was commenced with the
general statement, that Rectitude is some actual quality
in actions. It becomes now essential to give a more dis-
tinct and explicit explanation of that which is conceived
to constitute its real nature, than it was necessary, or even
proper, to do in encountering the various systems to which
the attention of the reader has been directed. I observe,
accordingly,
V. That virtue, as it regards man, is the conformity or
harmony of his affections and actions with the various
relations in which he has been placed — of which con-
formity the perfect intellect of God, guided in its exercise
by his infinitely holy nature, is the only infallible judge.
We sustain various relations to God himself. He is
our Creator — our Preserver — our Benefactor — our Gover-
nor. " He is the framer of our bodies, and the father of
our spirits." He sustains us " by the word of his power ;"
for, as we are necessarily dependent beings, our continued
existence is a kind of prolonged creation. We owe all
THE TRUE NATURE OP RECTITUDE. 437
that we possess to him ; and our future blessings must
flow from his kindness. Now there are obviously certain
affections and actions which harmonize or correspond
with these relations. To love and obey God manifestly
bejfit our relation to him as that great Being from whom
our existence as well as all our comforts flow. He who
showers his blessings upon us ought to possess our affec-
tions ; he who formed us has a right to our obedience. It
is not stated merely, let it be observed, that it is impossi*
ble to contemplate our relation to God without perceiving
that we are morally bound to love and obey him (though
that is a truth of great importance ;) for I do not consent
to the propriety of the representation, that virtue depends
either upon our perceptions or our feelings. There is a
real harmony between the relations in which we stand to
God, and the feelings and conduct to which reference has
been made ; and, therefore, the human mind has been
formed capable of perceiving and feeling it.
We sustain various relations to each other. God has
formed " of one blood, all the families of the earth."
Mutual love and brotherly kindness, the fruit of love, are
required by this relation — they harmonize or correspond
with it. We are children ; we are loved, and guarded,
and supported, and tended with unwearied assiduity by
our parents. Filial affection and filial obedience are de-
manded by this relation ; no other state of mind, no other
conduct, will harmonize with it. We are, perhaps, on
the other hand, parents. Instrumentally at least we have
imparted existence to our children ; they depend on us
for protection, support, &c. ; and to render that support
is required by the relation we bear to them. It is, how-
ever, needless to specify the various relations in which we
stand to each other. With reference to all, I again say,
that they necessarily involve obligations to certain states
of mind, and certain modes of conduct, as harmonizing
with the relations ; and that rectitude is the conformity
of the character and conduct of an individual with the
relations in which he stands to the beings by whom he is
surrounded.
438 THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDEi
It is by no means certain to me that this harmony bc"
tween the actions and the relations of a moral agent, is
not what we are to understand by that " conformity to the
fitness of things," in which some writers have made the
essence of virtue to consist. Against this doctrine, it has
been objected that it is indefinite, if not absurd ; because,
as it is alleged, it represents an action as right and fit,
without stating what it is fit for — an absurdity as great, says
the objector, as it would be to say that " the angles at the
base of an isosceles triangle are equal without adding to
one another, or to any other angle." Dr. Brown also, in
arguing against this doctrine, says, " there must be a prin-
ciple of moral regard, independent of reason, or reason
may in vain see a thousand fitnesses, and a thousand
truths ; and would be warmed with the same lively emo-
tions of indignation against an inaccurate time-piece, or
an error in arithmetic calculation, as against the wretch
who robbed, by every fraud that could elude the law, those
who had already little of which they could be deprived,
that he might riot a little more luxuriously, while the help-
less, whom he had plundered. Were starving around him."
Now why may we not say, in answer to the former objector,
that the conformity of an action with the relations of the
agent, is the fitness for which Clarke contends ? And why ^
may not we reply to Dr. Brown, that — allowing, as we do,
the necessity of that susceptibility of moral emotion for
which he contends — the emotion of approbation which
arises on the contemplation of a virtuous action, is not
the virtue of the action, nor the perception of its ac-
cordance with the relations of the agent, but the accord-
ance ITSELF ? " That a being," says Dewar, " endowed
with certain powers, is bound to love and obey the Crea-
tor and Preserver of all, is truth, whether I perceive it or
no ; and we cannot perceive it possible that it can be
reversed."
All the relations to which reference has been made, are,
in one sense, arbitrary. Our existence as creatures is to
be ascribed to the mere good pleasure of God. The rela-
tions which bind society together, the conjugal, parental,
THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 439
filial relation, depend entirely upon the sovereign will of
Him who gave us our being ; but the conduct to which
these relations oblige us, is by no means arbitrary. Ha-
ving determined. to constitute the relations. He could not
but enjoin upon us the conduct which his word prescribes.
He was under no obligation to create us at all ; but having
given us existence, he could not fail to command us to love
and obey him. There is a harmony between these rela-
tions, and these duties, — a harmony which is not only per-
ceived by us — for to state that merely, would seem to make
our perceptions the rule, if not the foundation, of duty,
but which is perceived by the perfect intellect of God him-
self. And since the relations we sustain were constituted
by God, since he is the judge of the affections and con-
duct which harmonize with these relations — that which
appears right to Him, being right on that account — Recti-
tude may be regarded as conformity to the moral nature of
God, the ultimate standard of virtue.
The preceding account of the nature of rectitude is dif-
ferent from that of Dr. Price, and, it is hoped, more con-
sistent and intelligible. In his elaborate work on Morals,
this writer maintains that there is an essential and eternal
distinction between right and wrong — a statement which
I, of course, have no desire to controvert, as it merely de-
clares, in other terms, that an essential difference exists be-
tween what God is, and what he is not. But the writings
of Dr. Price supply us with no standard of virtue, except
that which is afforded by the moral faculties of man ; or,
if they attempt to carry us beyond this rule, they are so ab-
stract, or so dark, as to render it difficult to comprehend
them. The Doctor commences his dissertation, by stating
that " the terms right and wrong, denote what actions are"
— " real characters of actions, &c. — and not mere sensations
derived from the particular frame and structure of our na-
tures." He proceeds to show, that the understanding is
the source of new ideas, in opposition to Locke, who af-
firms that all our ideas are derived from sensation, and
reflection. He explains the difference which he con-
ceives to exist between what he calls " Sense," and " Un-
440 THE TRUE NATURE OE REOTiTUDBr
derstanding ;" meaning by the former of the terms, tiiC
faculty or power of sensation. According to his state-
ment of this difference, it is the same with that which
Mr. Stewart attempts, as we have seen, to estabhsh be-
tween the sensations which are received through the me-
dium of the organs of sense, and the simple notions, of
various kinds, which are formed by the mind, on the occa-
sion of the existence of these sensations. " The under-
standing," says Dr. Price, " forms the ideas of necessity,
infinity, contingency, possibility, power, causation, &c. ;"
he adds, also, " of right and wrong." Thus ideas of right
and wrong, are, as he considers, necessary perceptions of
the understanding, and morality is a branch of necessary
truth.
Now before I proceed to state more fully the objection
against this system, at which I have already hinted, the
reader is requested to notice that, in the language which
the Doctor employs, there is the appearance, at least, of
identifying our perceptions of right and wrong, with the
right and wrong perceived. I am aware, indeed, that
statements are to be found in his volume, which would
seem to render it impossible to suppose that such a mis-
take can have been committed. And, perhaps, when his
mind was particularly directed to the point, the distinction
between our ideas of right, and rectitude itself, did not es-
cape his notice. I cannot but think, however, that the two
things were habitually identified. How otherwise could
he think of saying that right and wrong may denote what
we understand and know concerning certain objects — that
they are expressive of simple and undefinable ideas ?^
How otherwise could it have happened, that he has failed
to tell us what rectitude in actions is ? Declaring, as he
does, that it is a real character of actions — that it is per-
ceived by the understanding — and that every act of per-
ception supposes something to be perceived, we naturally
expect to find him proceeding to show, not merely how
our notions of rectitude arise, but what is the nature of
■^= Vide J>p. 59, 60.
THE TRUE NATURE OF RllCTITUDE. 441
rsctitude itself. Certain it is, however, that he does no-
thing of the kind. He traces our notions of virtue to
what he considers their source ; he tells us that they are
necessary perceptions of the understanding ; but he says
nothing of that which is perceived, i. e. of rectitude itself.
His argument seems to be, " We perceive a distinction
between right and wrong, and, therefore, morality is eter-
nal and immutable."
Now I shall not dwell upon the objection against this
doctrine, which is justly retorted by Dr. Brown, viz, that
it as truly represents virtue to be dependent upon the ar*
bitrary constitution of the mind, as any of the schemes
which it rejects. For what, in reality, is the argument of
Dr. Price, but the following ? We perceive a difference
between virtue and vice, — and, therefore, there is a differ-
ence — a difference eternal and immutable. And if such
be the amount of the argument, why may we not say,
with Dr. Brown, " We feel a difference between virtue
and vice, and, therefore, there is a difference ?" Reason
is but a principle of our mental frame, like the principle
which is the source of our moral emotions. Why, there-
fore, should the former be regarded as an infallible guide,
and the latter not ?
Not to dwell upon this, however, it is manifest, that,
since the Doctor does not state in what rectitude consists,
his system presents us with no standard of virtue, except
that which is supplied by those perceptions of right and
wrong, of which we have so frequently spoken. These
perceptions, as it appears to me, take the same place, and
perform the same office, with the moral emotions of Dr.
Brown. On this account, I prefer the statements of the
nature of rectitude, which have been given in the prece-
ding pages. Those statements declare, that moral dis-
tinctions are eternal and immutable — that virtue is an ac-
tual quality, or character of actions — that the conformity
of an action with the relations sustained by the agent, or
its agreement with the Divine perceptions of rectitude,
guided in its exercise by his infinitely holy nature, is the
virtue of the action. Thus it lays an intelligible and in-
56
44:2 THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
fallible foundation of virtue in the moral nature of God—
and presents us, also, with a perfect standard of virtue, in
the revelation which he has given us of that nature.
It was observed, a short time ago, that when Dr. Price's
statements are apparently adapted to carry us to something
more ultimate, as the standard of virtue, than our own
perceptions, they become so abstract, or so dark, as to be
difficult of comprehension. The following is a short ac-
count of them :
" Our ideas of right and wrong, are necessary percep-
tions of the understanding." — " The terms denote what
actions «re, not by will, or power, but by nature and
necessity ;" — " They express real characters of actions
which belong to them immutably, and necessarily." In
reply to an objection that this statement appears to set up
something distinct from God, which is independent of him,
and equally eternal, and necessary, he says, " It is easy to
see, that this difficulty affects morality no more than it
does all truth. If, for this reason, we must give up the
unalterable natures of right and wrong, and make them
dependent on the Divine will, we must, for the same rea-
son, give up all necessary truth, and assert the possibility
of contradictions."^
In further encountering the objection, he observes —
" Firsts that something there certainly is, which we
must allow not to be dependent on the will of God ; as,
for instance, his existence, eternity, &c.
" Secondly^ Mind supposes truth, — an eternal necessary
mind supposes eternal necessary truth, — if there were no
eternal necessary independent truths, there could be no
infinite, independent, necessary mind, or intelligence, be-
cause there would be nothing to be certainly and eternally
known.! In like manner, it may be said, that if there
^ P. 137.
•j- Does not the Doctor identify mind, or intelligence, here with knoW'
ledge ? There cannot, certainly, be knowledge, where there is nothing to
be known ; but may there not be mi7id ? Actual perception cannot exist
where there is nothing to be perceived ; but may not the power of per-
ception ?
THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 443
were no moral distinctions, there could be no moral attri-
butes in the Deity. If there were nothing eternally and
unalterably right and wrong, there could be nothing
meant by his eternal, unalterable rectitude, or holi-
ness.*"
This last statement, is exceedingly plausible, and may,
indeed, be so explained, as to convey a just and an impor-
tant meaning. Yet it is very possible to misunderstand it,
and to be led by it into very great misconceptions and
inconsistencies. It may originate the notion of some
standard of virtue, independent of God, and which is the
measure of the Divine rectitude — a notion which is truly
absurd. For if we must apply some moral measure to his
character, before we can pronounce that character morally
excellent — then, for the same reason, we must apply a
measure to this measure, before we can have confidence
in its moral accuracy ; and, again, another to this more
remote one, and so on ad infinitum. There must be
some ultimate standard of virtue — some measure which
cannot be measured ; and what can that be but the
moral nature of God ? Aware of the importance of
guarding against this mistake. Dr. Price adds to the
answers already stated, " But it may still be urged,
that these observations remove not the difficulty, but
rather strengthen it. We are still left to conceive of cer-
tain objects distinct from Deity, which are necessary and
independent ; and on which, too, his existence and attri-
butes are founded ; and without which we cannot so much
as form any idea of them. I answer," he adds, " we
ought to distinguish between the will of God, and his
nature. It by no means follows, because they are inde-
pendent of his will, that they are, also, independent of his
nature. To conceive thus of them, would, indeed, in-
volve us in the greatest inconsistencies. Wherever, or in
whatever objects, necessity and infinity occur to our
thoughts, the divine eternal nature is to be acknowledged.
We shall," he adds, " I believe, be more willing to own
• P. 137~13P.
444 THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE.
this, when we have attentively considered, what abstract
truth and possibility are. Our thoughts are here lost in an
unfathomable abyss, where we find room for an everlast-
ing progress, and where the very notion of arriving at a
point, beyond which there is nothing farther, implies a
contradiction. There is a proper infinity of ideal objects
and verities possible to be known ; and of systems, worlds,
and scenes of being, perception, order, and art, wholly
inconceivable to finite minds, possible to exist. This in-
finity of truth and possibility, we cannot, in thought, de-
stroy. Do what we will, it always returns upon us.
Every thought, and every idea of every mind, every kind
of agency and power, and every degree of intellectual
improvement, and pre-eminence amongst all reasonable
beings, imply its necessary and unchangeable existence.
Can this be any thing besides the divine, uncreated, infi-
nite reason and power, from whence all other reason and
power are derived, offering themselves to our minds, and
forcing us to see and acknowledge them ? — What is the
true conclusion from such considerations, but that there is
an incomprehensible first wisdom, knowledge, and power,
necessarily existing, which contain, in themselves, all
things, from which all things sprung, and upon which all
things depend ? There is nothing so intimate with us, and
one with our natures, as God. He is included, as appears,
in all our conceptions, and necessary to all the operations
of our minds : nor could he be necessarily existent, were
not this true of him. For it is implied in the idea of ne-
cessary existence, that it is fundamental to all other exist-
ence, and pre-supposed in every notion we can frame of
every thing. In short, it seems very plain, that truth,
having always a reference to mind, infinite, eternal truth,
implies an infinite, eternal mind : and that, not being
itself a substance, nor yet nothing, it must be a mode of a
substance, or the essential wisdom and intelligence of the
one necessary Being."*
* Price, p. 140—142.
^ THE TRUE NATURE, OP RECTITUDE. 445
All this may be both true and important, but I am con-
strained to think that it <5onveys no distinct idea. The
assertions, that " there is an infinity of truth and possibility
which we cannot destroy" — that " this infinity is the divine
uncreated infinite reason and power" — that " the incom-
prehensible first wisdom, knowledge, and power, contain in
themselves all things" — that " eternal truth, not being a
substance, nor yet nothing, must be the mode of a sub-
stance, or the essential wisdom and intelligence of the one
necessary being," appear to me very much like the state-
ments of Dr. Clarke with reference to space and duration,
which have puzzled many more than they have enlight-
ened and convinced. As far as I can understand the pre-
ceding declarations, they seem to make our perceptions
the revealers to us of the character of God, if not the rule
and measure of that character. Certain views of recti-
tude are necessarily formed by the understanding — that
rectitude, which the mind thus perceives, is eternal, and
immutable ; i. e. it constitutes the moral nature of God —
" for wherever necessity and infinity occur to our thoughts,
the divine eternal nature is to be acknowledged." Now
what is this but saying that the human mind, by its unaided
efforts, may attain to the knowledge of God ? Who can
avoid perceiving that the whole is greater than its parts, or
that two and two make four ? If we have an intuition of
right and wrong, and if the rectitude we thus perceive be
the nature of God, who can be ignorant of Him ? It may
be proper to ascertain, before we embrace this sentiment,
how far it can be reconciled with an authority to which all
should bow, and by which we are assured " that the world
by wisdom knew not God" — and that " it is impossible to
find him out to perfection."
It is, of course, admitted that we have perceptions of
right and wrong ; and, it is further conceded, that had the
moral state of man remained unaltered, since he came from
the hands of his Maker, these perceptions might have con-
stituted a perfect criterion of virtue. But as this is not the
case — as the views we take of objects of a moral nature are
greatly affected by the state of the heart, which is declared
446 THE STANDARD OF RECTITUDE.
to be " deceitful above all things and desperately wicked,*-
— it is denied that our perceptions of right and wrong can
be safely relied upon as constituting a correct and perfect
measure, or revealer to us of the divine character. We
must have a more infallible standard of rectitude than either
our perceptions or our feelings. That standard we have
placed in the divine intellect, guided in its exercise by his
perfectly holy nature. Doubtless there is embodied in the
character of God all that we can conceive of moral excel-
lence ; yet 1 would rather say that his character is excel-
lent, because it is his character, than because it appears
excellent to us. This is the ultimate measure which can-
not itself, for that very reason be measured. The virtue of
man is conformity to the relations he sustains ; of this con-
formity the perfect intellect of God is the only infallible
judge ; — and as His intellect is guided in its exercise by his
perfectly holy nature, those affections and actions which
appear right to God, are right on that very account.
WHAT IS THE STANDARD OF RECTITUDE?
It was formerly stated that the two questions "What
is the Foundation of Virtue?" — and "What is the Stand-
ard of Virtue ?" are not so radically distinct as is sometimes
imagined. And the conclusion, at which we have at length
arrived, shows the correctness of this statement ; since it
teaches us that the holy nature of God, guiding the per-
ceptions of his perfect intellect, is both the foundation and
the standard of virtue.
The question then, upon the consideration of which we
are about to enter, manifestly resolves itself into an inquiry
with reference to the Revelation, or Revelations, which
God has given to us of himself. We know nothing of God
but what he has revealed to us ; that Revelation, then, must
be the standard of Rectitude, by exhibiting to us his per-
fect and glorious nature. The inquiry which presents itself,
then, is, " Where is this revelation to be found ?" To thi«
question, I answer.
THE STANDARD OP RECTITUDE. 447
■.*
First, in the material creation. " The heavens declare
the glory of God." " The invisible things of Him from the
creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by
the things that are made, even his eternal power, and God-
head." The visible and tangible Universe is, then, a reve-
lation of God — an exhibition of the standard of rectitude ;
though, it may be, not so bright and luminous an exhibition,
as that to which we shall shortly advert. It is, on various
accounts, important to recollect this. We sometimes hear
it asserted, that the works of nature do not teach us any
thing of God— and that reason has nothing to do in matters
of religion. It may be possible perhaps, to attach a mean-
ing to the latter assertion, against which no great excep-
tion can be taken ; yet it is often ignorantly made, and is
adapted to lead into very great and deplorable mistakes.
The words, understood in their obvious sense, are so far
from being true, that it is by the aid of reason we arrive at
the knowledge of the fundamental truth of all religion, viz.
the Divine Existence. We see marks of contrivance in the
universe ; we immediately conclude that there must have
been a contriver. But this is a deduction of reason. Dis-
card the use of reason, and we shall be constrained to sur-
render our confidence in the being of a God. Should it be
said, in reply, that the existence of God is affirmed in his
word ; I would ask, how we know that this word merits
our confidence — that it is the word of God — that the Scrip-
tures were, indeed, given by inspiration of God '( Is it not
by the aid of reason ? Should it be further said, that the
character of Jehovah, as drawn by the inspired penman,
approves itself to us, as being a true description of Him in
whom we live and move ; and thus establishes the Divinity
of the Bible; 1 admit the truth of the remark, while I ask,
if it be not to our reason, that this character approves itself.
Let us, then, be careful not to misunderstand the statement,
that reason has nothing to do in matters of religion. If
we are determined to extinguish the light of nature — or
rather to affirm that there is no such thing — to place no
confidence in the decisions of reason, we must surrender
our faith in divine revelation, admit that we are left with-
148 THE STANDARD OF RECTlTUDi:.
out any moral guide whatever, and abandon ourselves to
an universal scepticism.
There is a broad line of distinction between the denial
that any of the decisions of reason may be relied upon
with confidence, and that it may be trusted as a safe and
'.nfallible guide in reference to our conduct, in all the rela-
tions we sustain to God, and to each other. The latter
denial must be made, unless we are prepared to maintain
that reason has suffered no eclipse through the lapse of
the species. Granting the scripture doctrine of the fall, it
follows.
Secondly^ That we must seek for a revelation of God,
in the Scriptures of truth. There we have that bright and
luminous exhibition of the Divine character, to which re-
ference was made a short time ago ; and to which we shall
do well to take heed, as " unto a lamp shining in a dark
place." It is necessarily implied in the fact, that the Bible
came from God, that it presents us with a more full and
perfect manifestation of his character, than can be derived
from any other source — or why was it given ? Jehovah
does nothing in vain. Did he not intend to unveil to us
more of his glorious character than is laid open to our
view in the material universe, we cannot conceive that
what is emphatically called Divine Revelation, would have
been given to the world. And, if the Bible does present
us with a more full developement of the Divine character
than the external and visible universe, it must be a more
perfect criterion of rectitude. It must, indeed, be abso-
lutely perfect as far as it professes to be our guide ; because
it came from God. Whether there be any minute points
of Christian duty to which the directions of the Sacred
Scriptures do not reach, it is not necessary, for our present
purpose, to consider. The oracle might be allowed to be
in some cases silent, but, where it speaks, it must be infal-
lible in its directions. It must demand and deserve the
most implicit obedience. And if this be all that is meant
by the assertion formerly referred to, that reason has no-
thing to do in matters of religion, I cordially admit its
truth and importance. Having examined the claims qf
THE STANDARD OF RECTITDDE. 449
the Bible to be a revelation from God ; having subjected
the evidence by which this important fact is sought to be
established, to the test of those rules by which -the value
and credibility of evidence is, in all cases, tried, and found
it to be sufficient and convincing ; I agree with Dr. Chal-
mers in thinking, that the question then is, " not, What
thinkest thou ? but, flow readest thou ?" I am disposed
to concede that the apparent reasonableness, or unrea-
sonableness, of any doctrine which is manifestly revealed,
does not supply a legitimate ground, either of reception or
rejection. I would grant to the Roman Catholic that we
are not justified in rejecting the doctrine of transubstanti-
ation itself, on the ground of its apparent absurdity. The
exclusive inquiry concerning this, and every other senti-
ment, ought to be the following — Is it the doctrine of
Scripture ? If that be the case, it must be true. I would
not, however, be understood as affirming that reason is to
be totally excluded even here ; since it is only by the up-
right use of this faculty that we can ascertain the meaning
of Scripture. All that is intended is, that the divine au-
thority of the Bible being established, the sole office of
reason is to ascertain the meaning of its communications ;
and not to sit in judgment upon the reasonableness of those
doctrines which are clearly shown to constitute integral
parts of that communication. I am aware of the reply
which will be attempted here ; viz, that, as we admitted
the divine authority of the Bible, because the evidence on
which it rested its claims to be a communication from
God, appeared to our reason to be conclusive, we are war-
ranted in rejecting any doctrine which appears to us irra-
tional. I reply, that I would by no means affirm, that that
circumstance does not call upon us to examine afresh whe-
ther the meaning of the record may not have been mis-
taken, nor even whether the evidence on which we have
received the Bible as a revelation from God, be really im-
pregnable. But when we have done this — when, after a
careful and devout examination of Scripture, we see con-
clusive evidence that the doctrine in question fcrms an in-
tegral part of what is unquestionably a revelation from
450 THK. STANDARD OF RECTITUDE.
God — we have nothing to do but to believe it. Any ap-
parent mystery, or unreasonableness, or want of agreement
with the analogy of faith, does not form a legitimate ground
of rejection. We have indeed, in this stage of the busi-
ness, nothing to do with any such questions. " We must
not abridge the sovereignty of the principle — what readest
thou ? by appealing to others, by talking of the reasona-
bleness of the doctrine, or the standard of orthodoxy (that
is, as additional grounds for receiving it,) and thus in fact
bring down the Bible from the high place to which it is
entitled, as the only tribunal to which the appeal should be
made, or from which the decision should be looked for."
The preceding statements, representing the Bible as the
standard, are borne out by every thing contained in the
Sacred Volume itself. The Bible is an authoritative com-
munication of truth and duty. It prefaces its discoveries
with " Thus saith the Lord." Must not then its doctrines
be received — its precepts obeyed ? In other words, are
we not morally obliged to take the Sacred Volume as the
standard of rectitude, both as it regards sentiment and
practice ? That the question of expediency may be taken
into the account, when endeavouring to ascertain, in diffi-
cult and perplexing cases, the path of duty, has been al-
lowed. But I believe fewer cases than is sometimes ima-
gined will arise, which are not provided for in the Sacred
Volume, either by specific or general directions. The
more familiar we are with its contents, and the more
deeply we are imbued with its spirit, the less shall we find
ourselves at a loss in reference to the path of duty. Doubt
and hesitation, are, I suspect, generally to be ascribed to
ignorance and inattention.
I cannot bring myself to oppose, formally and at length,
the notion that expediency is the standard of rectitude.
That a Christian moralist — a man who professes to believe
that the Bible is a revelation from God, or, in other words,
that He has condescended to teach us in his word, what
is truth and duty — should depart from this rule, and adopt
that of expediency, or any other, in preference to it, is to
me, I acknowledge, passing strange. There is, I appre-
\
THE STANDARD OF RECTITUDE. 451
hend, far less absurdity in erecting the Scriptures into a
standard of rectitude, while we maintain that expediency,
either general or particular, is its foundation ; or, in other
words, in maintaining that an action is right, because it
tends to individual or public benefit ; while we contend
that the best way to ascertain the tendency of actions is to
inquire what are commanded, and what are condemned,
in the Sacred Volume.
The preceding statements render it unnecessary to enter
into the question. By what principle of our nature is it that
we attain to the knowledge of right and wrong ? The sen-
timents we entertain with regard to the nature of virtue,
must guide our opinions on this point. If virtue be the
conformity of an action with the relations of the agent, the
discovery of that relation is manifestly the office of reason.
If the standard of virtue be the word of God, by what prin-
ciple of our nature but reason, are we to arrive at the know-
ledge of its meaning ?
If virtue, on the other hand, be the relation of an action
to a certain emotion, it is not by the intellectual part of our
nature at all, that we gain an acquaintance with it. The
rise of the emotion is the only criterion of virtue ; our sus-
ceptibility of moral emotion, is that part of our nature by
which we attain to the knowledge of right and wrong.
THE END.
i
/
IP*^
«i
TO^ — n "
LOANPERiOD 1 12
SErAESTER
FOR/V\ NO. DDIO
^s^^^^ss?^-""
^^m^m
>^^Si^^»;ra54^^^i^^<a[^:$;;«^^
x^.:=--X'.>: — jv^: