B 3 T2M 370
mm.
ELEMENTS
MENTAL PHILOSOPHY.
ABRIDGED AND DESIGNED AS A
TEXT-BOOK
ACADEMIES AND HIGH SCHOOLS.
BY THOMAS C. UPHAM,
PROFESSOR OF MENTAL iND MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN BOWDOIM
COLLEQE.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS
1854.
B731
t
^
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1845.
By Harper & Brothers,
In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New York.
PREFACE
The Philosophy of the Mind has grown up, hke other
sciences, from small beginnings. Many propositions,
coming too, in many instances, from able writers, have
been thrown aside ; truth has been sifted out from the
mass of error, until at last a great number of important
principles is ascertained. But while it is exceedingly
necessary that our youth should be made acquainted
with these principles, it is impossible that they should go
through with all the complicated discussions which have
been held in respect to them. Many of the books in
which these discussions are contained have become ex-
ceedingly rare ; and, if they were not so, no small num-
ber of students, who are now in the course of as thorough
an education as our country affords, would not be able to
purchase them. And besides, by placing before the stu-
dent a mass of crude and conflicting statements, his mind
becomes perplexed. To be able to resolve such a mass
into its elements, and to separate truth from error, implies
an acquaintance with the laws of the intellect, and a de-
gree of mental discipline, which he is not yet supposed to
have acquired ; and hence, instead of obtaining much im-
portant knowledge, he becomes distrustful of everything
Now these evils, saying nothing of the loss of time at-
tendant on such a course, are to be remedied in the same
way as in other sciences. In other departments of learn-
ing, ingenious men discuss points of difficulty ; conflicting
arguments are accumulated, until the preponderance on
one side is such that the question in debate is considered
IV PREFACE.
settled Others employ themselves in collecting facts, in
classifying them, and in (Reducing general principles ; and
when all this is done, the important truths of the science,
collected from such a variety of sources, and suitably ar-
ranged and expressed, are laid before the student, in or-
der that he may become acquainted with them. And this
is what is attempted, to some extent, to be done in the
present work, which is an abridgment of a larger work
on the S£inie subject. In the larger work, the principles of
Eclecticism and Induction, which have just been referred
to, are applied on a more extensive scale than in* the
present. I have been obliged necessarily to exclude
from the abridgment many interesting and striking illus-
trations and facts, and some general philosophical views,
which would have had a place if our limits had permit-
ted. I indulge the hope, nevertheless, as the abridgment
has been made with no small degree of care, that it will
answer the purpose for which it is particularly designed ;
viz., the assistance of those youth who need some knowl-
edge of Mental Philosophy, but are not in a situation to
prosecute the subject to any great extent.
THOMAS C UPHAM
JBowdom College, May, 1840.
CONTENTS.
DIVISION I.
THE INTELLECT OR UNDERSTANDING.
INTRLLKCTIVE OR INTELLECTUAL STATES OF THE MIND.
P A R t I;
INTELLECTUAL STATES OF EXTERNAL ORIGIN.
CHAPTER I.
ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL.
Soctlom ftS*
1. The mind susceptible of a threefold division . . .17
2. The Intellect susceptible of a subordinate division . . . ib.
3. Of the connexion of the tnind with the material world . . 18
4. Our first knowledge in general of a material or external origin . 19
5. Shown further from what we notice in children . . . .20
6. Further proof of the beginnings of knowledge from external causes 21
7. The same subject further illustrated . ..... 22
8. Illustration from the case of James Mitchell .... 23
CHAPTER II.
SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
9. Sensation a simple mental state originating in the senses . . 24
10. All sensation is properly and truly in the mind . . . .25
11. Sensations are not images or resemblances of objects . . . ib.
12. The connexion between the mental and physical change not ca-
pable of explanation .26
13. Of the meaning and nature of perception . . . . .27
14. Perception makes us acquainted with a material world . . 27
15. Of the primary and secondary qualities of matter . . .28
16. Of the secondary qualities of matter 29
CHAPTER III.
THE SENSES OF SMELL AND TASTE.
17. Nature and importance of the senses as a source of knowjedge . 30
18. Connexion of the brain with sensation and perception . 31
19. Order in which the senses are to be considered . . . .32
20. Of the sense and sensations of smell ib.
21. Of perceptions of smell in distinction from sensations . . . 33
22. Of the sense and the sensations of taste 34
CHAPTER IV.
THE SENSE OP HEARING.
•23. Organ of the sense of hearing .... . . 35
24, Varieties of the sensation of souna ...... 36
25. Manner in which we learn the place of sounds . . ' ^
A2
VI CONTENTS.
CHAPTER V.
THE SENSE OF TOUCH.
■wtloB ^^
26. Of the sense of touch in general and its sensations . . 38
27. Idea of externality suggested in connexion with the touch . • ib.
28. Origin of the notion of extension, and of form or fig are . . 40
29. On the sensations of heat and cold 41
30. Of the sensations of hardness and softness 42
31. Of certain indefinite feelings sometimes ascribed to the touch . 44
32. Relation between the sensation and what is outwardly signified . 45
CHAPTER VI.
THE SENSE OF SIGHT.
33. Of the organ of sight, and the uses or benefits of that sense . 46
... ^^
. 48
. 49
. 50
. 51
. 52
. 53
. ib.
. 54
. 55
34. Statement of the mode or process in visual perception
35. Of the origmal and acquired perceptions of sight
36. The idea of extension not originally from sight .
37. Of the knowledgecjf thefigure of bodies by the sight
38. illustration of the subject from the blind . . ,
39. Measurements of magnitude by the eye
40. Of objects seen in a mist
41. 0{ the sun and moon when seen in the horizon .
42. 01 the estimation of distances by sight
43. Signs by means of which we estimate distance by sight
44. Estimation of distance when unaided by intermediate objects . 56
45. Of objects seen on the ocean, &c. 57
CHAPTER VII.
HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
46. General view of the law of habit and of its applications ^ . 58
47. The law of habit applicable to the mind as well as the body . ib.
48. Of habit m relation in the smell 59
49 Of habit in relation to the taste 60
50. Of habit m rehilion to the hearing , . 62
61. Application of habit to the touch .64
52. Other striking instances of habits of touch 65
63. Habits considered in relation to the sight 66
54. Sensations may possess a relative, as well as positive increase of
power 68
65. Of habits as modified by particular callings and arts . . .69
66. The law of habit considered in reference to the perception of the
outlines and forms of objects 70
57. Notice of some facts which favour the above doctrine . . .71
68. Additional illustrations of Mr. Stewart's doctrine ,. , .72
CHAPTER Vni.
CONCEPTIONS.
59 Meaning and characteristics of conceptions .
60. Of conceptions of objects of sight . ...
61. Of the influence of habit on our conceptions
62 Influence of habit on conceptions of sight
63 Of the subserviency of our conceptions to description
64 0( conceptions attended with a momentary belief
65. Conceptions which are joined with perceptions .
66. Conceptions a? connected with fictitious representations
CONTENTS.
Til
CHAPTER IX.
SIMPLICITY AND COMPLEXNE»S OF MENTAL STATES.
Beeticn « P^
67. Origin of the distinction of simple and complex . . . .83
68. Nature and characteristics of simple mental states . . . ib.
69. Simple mental states not susceptible of definition . . .84
70. Simple mental states representative of a reality . . . .85
71. Origm of complex notions, ami their relation to simple . . 86
72. Supposed comptexness without tlie antecedence of simple feelings 87
73. The precise sense in which coinplexness is to be understood . 88
74 lUustrations-of analysis as applied to the mind . . . .89
75. Complex notions of external origin 90
76. Of objects contemplated as wholes 91
CHAPTER X.
ABSTRACTION.
77. Abstraction implied in the analysis of complex ideas . . .92
78. Instances of particular abstract ideas 93
79. Mental process in separating and abstracting them . . .94
80. General abstract notions the same with genera and species . 95
81. Process in classification, or the forming of genera and species . 96
82. Early classifications sometimes incorrect 97
83. Illustrations of our earliest classifications in.
84. Of the nature of general abstract ideas 98
85. The power of general abstraction yri connexion with numbers, &c. 99
86. Of general abstract truths or principles ib.
87. Of the speculations of philosophers and others .... 100
CHAPTER XI.
OF ATTENTION.
88. Of the general nature of attention 101
89. Of different degrees of attention 102
90. Dependence of memory on attention 103
91. Of exercising attention in reading \04
92. Alleged inability to command the attention . . . . . 105
CHAPTER XII.
DREAMING.
•3. Definition of dreams and the prevalence of them
94. Connexion of dreams with our waking thoughts .
95. Dreams are often caused by our sensations
96. Explanation of the incoherency of dreams.
97. Second cause of the incoherency of dreams
98. Apparent reality of dreams. (1st cause)
99 Apparent reality of dreams. (2d cause)
^0. Of our estimate of time in dreaming
lOl Explanation of the preceding statements
(1st cause)
107
ib.
108
110
ib.
Ill
112
113
114
PART II.
INTELLECTUAL STATES OF INTERNAL ORIGIN.
CHAPTER I.
* INTERNAL ORIGIN §F KNOWLEDGE.
102. The soul has fountains of knowledge within
103. Declaration of Locke, that the soul has knowledge in itself
119
120
vm
CONTENTS.
104. The beginning of knowledge is m the senses
105 There may also be internal accessions to knowledge .
106. Instances of notions which have an mtemal origin
107. Other instances of ideas which have an irfternai origin
120
121
122
ib
C*I AFTER 11.
ORIGINAL SOGGESTION.
108. Import of suggestioli, and its application in Reid and Stewart 123
109. Ideas of existence, mind, self-existence, and personal identity 124
110 Of the nature of rinity, and the origin of that notion . . .126
111. Nature of succession, and origin of the idea of succession . . 127
112. Origm of the notion of duration . 128
113. illustrations of the nature of duration ib.
114. Of time and its measurements, and of eternity .... 129
115. The idea of space not of external origin 130
116. The idea of space has its origin in suggestion . . . .131
117. Of the origin of the idea of power .132
118. Occasions of the origin of the idea of power . . . . ib.
119. Of the ideas of right and wrong . . . . . . .133
120. Origin of the ideas of moral merit and demerit .... 134
121. Of other elements of knowledge developed in suggestion . ,135
122. Suggestion a source of principles as well as of ideas . . . ib
CHAPTER HI.
CONSCIOUSNESS.
123. Consciousness^ the 2d source of internal knowledge; its nature . 136
124. Further remarils on the proper objects of consciousness .' .137
125. Consciousnes a ground or law of belief . . ,. . . 138
126. Instances of knowledge developed in consciousness . . . ib.
CHAPTER IV
RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT.
127. Of the susceptibility of perceiving or feeling relations .
128. Occasions on which feelings of relation may arise
129. Of the use of correlative terms
130. Of relations of identity and diversity .....
131. (II.) Relations of degree, and names expressive of them
132. (III.) Of relations of proportion
133. (IV.) Of relations of place or position
134 (v.) Of relations of time •. .
135. (VI.) Of ideas of possession
136. (VII.) Of relations of cause and effect
137. Of complex terms involving the relation of cause and effect
138. Connexion of relative suggestion with reasoning
140
141
142
ib.
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
l.'iO
CHAPTER V.
iTION. (l.) PRIMARY LAWS.
139 ReasN44D A)r considering this subject here
140. Meaning of association and illustrations
141. Of the general laws of association
142. Resemblance the first general law of association
143. Of resemblance in the effects produced
144. (/Oiitrast the second general or primary law
145. Contiguity the third general or primary law
146. Cause and effect the fourth primary law
151
ib.
152
153
154
155
157
158
CONTENTS It
1^
159
160
161
162
163
^64
CHAPTER VI.
ASSOCIATION. (ll.) SECONDARY LAWS.
147. Secondary laws, and their connexion with the primary
148. Of the influence of lapse of time .
149. Secondary law of repetition or habit
150. Of the secondary law of coexistent emotion
151. Origmal difference m the mental constitution
152. T^ foregoing as applicable to the sensibiUties
CHAPTER Vn.
^ MEMORY.
1.53. Remarks on the generalnature of memory 166
154. Of memory as a ground or law of belief 167
155. Of differences inthe strength of memory 168
156. Of circumstantial memory, or that species of memory which is
based on the relations of contiguity in time and place . . 169.
157. Illustrations of specific or circumstantial memory . . . 170
158. Of philosophic memory, or that species of memory which is based
on other relations than those of contiguity . . . .171
159. Illustrations of philosophic memory ....... 172
160. Of that species of memory called intentional recollection . . 173
161. Nature of intentional recollection 174
162. Instance illustrative of the preceding statements . . . .lb.
163. Marks of a good memory . . . . . • . • 175
164. Directions or rules for the improvement of the memory . . 177
165. Further directions for the improvement of the memory . .179
166. Of observance of the truth in connexion with memory . .180
CHAPTER VIII.
DURATION OF MEMORY.
167. Restoration of thoughts and feelings supposed to be forgotten . 181
168. Mental action quickened by influence on the physical system . 183
169. Other instances of quickened mental action, and of a restoration
of thoughts 184
170. Effect on the memory of a severe attack of fever . . . . ib.
171. Approval and illustrations of these views from Coleridge .185
172. Application of the principles of this chapter to education . . 187
173. Connexion of this doctrine with the final judgment and a future
life . . , 189
CHAPTER IX.
REASONING.
174. Reasoning a source of ideas and knowledge . . . .190
175.* Definition of reasoning, and of propositions 191
176. Process of the mind in all cases of reasoning . . 192
177. Illustration of the preceding statement • . . . . ".93
178. Grounds of the selection of propositions . . . • 194
179 Reasoning implies the existence of antecedent or assumed prepo-
sitions
180 Further considerations on this subject 196
181. Of differences in the power of reasoning 197
182. Of habits of reasoning . . • . . ... . .198
183 Of reasoning in connexion wixh language or expression . .199
•84. Illustration of the foregoing section 200
195
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER X.
demonstrative: reasoning
rkg.
185 Of the subjects of demonstrative reasoning . . 201
186. Use of detinitions and axioms in deinonslrative ret BC^JDg 202
187. The opposites of demonstrative reasonings absurd , 203
188 Demonstrations do not admit of different degrees of belief . 204
189. Oi the use of diagrams in demonstrations .... 205
CHAPTER XI.
MORAL REASONING.
190. Of the subjects and importance of moral reasoning . . .206
191. Of the nature of moral certainty 207
192. Of reasoning from analogy . . 208
193 Of reasoning by induction 209
194. Of combined or accumulated arguments 210
CHAPTER XII.
PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS IN REASONING.
195. Rules relating to the practice of reasoning 211
i96. Of being influenced in reasoning by a love of the truth . . ib
197. Care to be used in correctly statmg the subject of discussion . 212
198. Consider the kind of evidence applicable to the subject . . 213
199. Reiect the aid of false arguments or sophisms . . . . ib.
200. Fallacia equivocationis, or the use of equivocal terms and phrases 215
201. Of the sophism of estimating actions and character from the cir-
cumstances of success merely 216
202. Of adherence to our opinions . 217
203. Eflects on the mind of debating for victory instead of truth . 218
CHAPTER XIII.
IMAGINATION.
204. Imagination an intellectual rather than a sensitive process . . 219
205. The imagination closely r^^lated to the reasoning power . 220
206. Definition of the pow^er of imagination .... 221
207. Process of the mind in the creations of the imagination . • 222
208. Further remarks on the same subject .... . 223
209. Illustration from the v»?ritings of Dr. Reid . . . . . ib.
210. Grounds of the preference of one conception to another . 224
211. Illustration of the subject from Milton 22"^
212. The creations of imagination not entirely voluntary . . . ib.
213. Illustration of the statements of the preceding section . . 227
214. On the utility of the faculty of the imagination . . . .228
21 5. Importance of the imagination in connexion with reasoning . '^29
CHAPTER XIV.
DISORDEREB INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
(l.) EXCITED CONCEPTIONS OR APPARITIONS.
216. Disordered intellectual action as connected with the body . '^ 231
217. Of excited conceptions and of apparitions in general . . . 232
218. Of the less permanent excited conceptions of sight . . . ib.
219. Of the less permament excited conceptions of sound . . .234
220. First cause of permanently vivid conceptions or apparitior.s. —
Morbid sensibility of the reiina of the eye . . . .235
CONTENTS. XI
2iil. Second cause of permanently excited conceptions or apparitions.
iNegUjct of periodical Uloud-letling 237
222. Methods o/ reliel adopted m this case 239
223. Third cause of excited conceptions. Attacks of fever . .240
224. Fourth cause of apparitions and other excited conceptions. In-
flammation of the brain 241
225. Facts having relation to the fourth cause of excited conceptioLS . 242
Zlifi. Fifth cause of apparitions. Hysteria 243
CHAPTER XV.
DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
(II.) INSANITY.
227. Meaning of the term insanity ''244
228. Of disordered or alienated sensations .... .245
229. Of disordered or alienated ejcternal perception . . . .246
230. Disordered state or insanity of original suggestion . . . 247
231. L'nsoundiiesig or insanity ot consciousness 243
232. Insanity ot the judgment or relative suggestion . . . .249
233. Disordered or alienated association. Lightheadedness . . 250
234. Illustrations of this mental disorder 251
235. 01 partial insanity or alienation of the memory . . . . ib.
236. Of the power of reasoning in the partially insane .... 253
237. Instance ot the above form of insanity ol reasoning . . 254
238. Partial mental alienation by means of the imagination . .255
239. insanity or ahenation oi the power of belief . . . 256
DIVISION II.
THE SENSIBILITIES.
SENTIENT OR SENSITIVE STATES Of THE MIND.— SENTIMENTS
INTRODUCTION.
CLASSIFICATION OF THE SENSIBILITIES.
240. Reference to the general division of the whole mind . . . 261
241. The action of the sensibilities implies that of the intellect . . ib.
242. Division of the sensibilities into natural or pathematic, and moral 262
243. The moral and natural sensibilities have different objects . .263
244 The moral sensibilities higbeF in rank than the natural . . 264
245. 'l"he moral sensihililies wanting iti brutes ib.
246 Classification of the natural sensibilities ... .265
247. Classihcatiou of the moral sensiodities . ... 266
PART I.
NATURAL OR PATHEMATIC SENSIBILITIES.
NATURAL OR PATHEMATIC SENTIMENTS.
CLASS I.
BHOTIONS OR EMOTIVE STATES OF THE MIND.
CHAPTER I.
NATURE OF THE E.VI0TI0NS.
248. We have a knowledge of emotions by consciousness . . .269
249. The place of emotions, consideied in reference to other mental
• acts ' . . .270
260. The character of emotions chants so as to comforni to that of
perceptions 271
251. Emotions characterized by rapidity and variety .... 272
Xll CONTENTS.
CHAPTER II.
EMOTIONS OK BEAUTY.
Section ftl»
25:ii. Characteristics of emotions of beauty . . . 273
253. Of what is meant by t)eauliful objects . . . . .274
254. Of the (Jistinrlion between beautilui and other obiects . .275
255 Grounds or occasions of emotions of beauty various . . .276
256. All objects not equally fitted to cause these emotions . . .277
257. A suscepHbihty of emotions of beauty an ultimate principle of our
n»ental constitution . . . . . . . . . 278
258. Remarks on the beauty of forms. — The circle .... 279
259. Original or intrinsic beauty. — 'I'he circle 280
260. Of the beauty of straight and angular forms ib.
261. Of square, pyramidal, and triangular forms 281
262. Of the original or intrinsic beauty of colours . . . 283
263. Further illustrations of the original beauty of colours . . 284
264. Of sounds considered as a source of i»eauiy 286
265. Illustrations of the original beauty of sounds .... 287
266. Further instances of the original beauty of sounds . . .290
267. The permanency of musical power dependent on its being intrinsic ib.
268. Of motion as an element of beauty 291
269. Explanation of the beauty of motion from Kaimes . . . 292
CHAPTER III.
ASSOCIATED BEAUTY.
270. Associated beauty implies an antecedent or intrinsic beauty . 293
271. Objects may become beautiful by association merely . . .294
272. Further illustrations of associated feelings 295
273. Instances of national associations , . 297
274. The sources of associated beauty coincident with those of human
happiness 298
275. Summary of views in regard to the beautiful .... 29Q
CHAPTER IV
EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY.
276. Connexion between beauty and sublimity 300
277. The occasions of the emotions of sublimity various . . . 301
278. Great extent or expansion an occasion of sublimity . . .302
279. Great height an element or occasion of sublimity . . . ib.
280. Of depth in connexion with the sublime 303
281. Of colours in connexion with the sublime 304
282. Of sounds as furnishing an occasion of sublime emotions . . ib.
283. Of motion in connexion with the sublime 305
284. Indications of power accompanied by emotions of the sublime . 306
285. Of the original or primary sublimity of objects . . . 307
286 Considerations in proof of the original sublimity of objects . . ib.
287. Influence of association on emotions of subiunity . . .308
CHAPTER V.
EMOTIONS OF THE LUDICR0U8
288. General nature of emo' Dns of the ludicrous
289. Occasions of emotions of the ludicrous
290. Of what is understood by wit
291. Of wit as it consists in burlesque or in debasing objects
292. Of wit when employed in aggrandizing objects .
293. Of the character and occasions of humour .
294. Of the practical utility of feehngs of the ludicrous
^09
310
311
ib.
312
313
314
COMTENTS. XUl
CHAPTER VI.
INSTANCES OP OTHER SIMPLE EMOTIONS.
Pafft
295. Emotions of cheerfulness, joy, and gladness . . . 314
296. Kmotione of melancholy, sorrow, and grief . . . 315
297. Emotions of surprise, astonishment, and wonder . . . 316
298. Emotions of dissatisfaction, displeasure, and disgust . . ib.
299. Emotions of diffidence, modesty, and shame . . . 317
300. Emotions of regard, reverence, and adoration . . . . ib
CLASS II.
V' THE DESIRES.
CHAPTER I.
NATURE OP DESIRES.
301. Of the prevalence of desire in this department of the mind . 321
302. Th<j nature of desires known from consciousness . . . ib.
303 Of the place of desires in relation to other mental states . .322
304. The desires characterized by comparative fixedness and perma-
nency . 323
305. Desires always imply an object desired 324
306. The fulfilment of desires attended with enjoyment • . . . ib.
307. Of variations or degrees in the strength of the desires . . . 325
308. Tendency to excite movement an attribute of desire . . . ib.
3C9. Classification of this part of the sensibilities .... 326
310. The principles, based upon desire, susceptible of a twofold op-
eration 327
CHAPTER II.
INSTINCTS.
311. Of instincts in man as compared with those of inferior animals 328
312. Illustrations of the instincts of brute animals . . . . ib.
313. Instances of instincts in the human mind 330
314. Further instances of instincts in men 331
316. Of the final cause or use of instincts 332
CHAPTER III.
APPETITES.
316. Of the general nature and characteristics of the appetites . . 333
317. The appetites necessary to our preservation, and not originally of
a selfish character ib.
318. Of the prevalence and origin of appetites for intoxicating drugs . 334
319. Of the twofold operation and the morality of the appetites . .335
CHAPTER 17.
PROPENSITIES.
32C. General remarks on the nature of the piopensities . . . 336
321. Principle of self-preservation, or the desire of continued existence 337
322. Of the twofold action of the principle of self-preservation . . 338
323 Of curiosity, or the desire of knowledge ib.
324 Further illustrations of the principle of curiosity .... 339
^25, Of the twofold operation and the morality of the principle of curi
osity .
S 340
326. Imitativeness, or the propensity to imitation . . . .341
327, Practical results of the principle of imitatic« . . . 343
B
XIV
CONTENTS.
Section
328. Of the natural desire of esteem ....
329. Of the desire of esteem as a rule of conduct .
330. Of the desire of possession
331. Of the moral character of the possessory principle
332. Of perversions of the possessory desire
333. Of the desire of power
234. Of the moral character of the desire of power
335. Propensity of self-love, or the <lesire of happiness
336. Of selfishness as distinguished from self-love
337. Reference to the opinions of philosophical writers
338. The principle of sociality original in the human mind
339. Evidence of the existence of this principle of sociality
340. Other illustrations of the existence of this principle
341. Relation of the social principle to civil society
341
. 345
. 346
. 347
. 348
. 349
. 350
. 351
. 352
. 353
. 354
. 355
. 356
. 357
CHAPTER V.
THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
342. Of the cf5mparative rank of the affections
343. Of the complex nature of the affections
344. Of resentment or anger
345. Illustrations of instinctive resentment .
346. Uses and moral character of instinctive resentment
347. Of voluntary in distinction from instinctive resentment
348. Tendency of anger to excess, and the natural checks to it
349. Other reasons for checking and subduing the angry passions
350. Modifications of resentment. Peevishness
351. Modifications of resentment.
352. Modifications of resentment.
353. Modifications of resentment.
354 Nature of the passion of fear
Envy
Jealousy
Revenge
. 358
. 359
. 360
. 361
. ib.
. 362
. 363
. 365
. 366
. 367
368
369
. ih
CHAPTER VI.
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
°i55. Of the nature of love or benevolence in general . . . 371
356. Love, in its various forms, characterized by a twofold action . 372
357. Of the parental affection . ib.
358. Illustrations of the strength of the parental affection . . .374
359. Of the filial affection 375
360. The filial affection original or implanted 37f
361. Illustrations of the filial affection 371
362. Of the nature of the fraternal affection 379
363. On the utility of the domestic affections 380
364. Of the moral character of the domestic affections, and of the be-
nevolent affections generally , 381
365. Of the moral character of the voluntary exercises of the benevo-
lent affections 382
366. Of the connexion between benevolence and rectitude . 383
3()7. Of humanity, or the love of the human race . 384
368. Further proofs in support of the doctrine of an innate humanity,
or love for the human race 386
369. Proofs of a humane or philanthropic principle from the existence
of benevolent institutions 387
370 Other remarks in proof of the same doctrine . . . . 388
371. Of patriotism or love of country 389
372. Of the affection of friendship 390
373. Of the affection of pity or sympathy 391
371. Of the moral character of pity . . 392
875 Of the affection of gratitude 394
CONTENTS. XV
CHAPTER VII.
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
LOVE TO THE SUPREME BEING.
KOtt' Paga
t7ft jfan created originally with the principle of love to God . . 395
377. That man was originally created with a principle of love to God,
further shown from the Scriptures 396
J7P Further proof that man was thus created 398
ny. Relation of the principle of supreme love to God to the other
principles of the pathematic sensibilities ib
KC, The absence of this principle attended with an excessive and sin-
ful action of other principles 400
382. Further illustrations of the results of the absence of this principle 401
CHAPTER VIII.
HABITS OF THE SENSIBILITIES.
132, Meaning of the term habit .... ... 404
333. Of habits in connexion with the appetites ib.
/S4. Of habits m connexion with the propensities . . . .405
?95. Of habits in connexion with the affections 406
i86. Of the origin of secondary active principles , , - . . 408
PART II.
THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES OR CONSCIENCE.
ilORAL OR CONSCIENTIOUS STATES OF THE MIND.— MORAL SENT1M1NT&
CHAPTER I.
EMOTIONS OF MORAL APPROVAL AND DISAPPROVAL.
387. Reference to the general division 413
388. Classification of the moral sensibilities 414
389. Nature of the moral emotions of approval and disapproval . . ib.
390. Of the place or position, mentally considered, of the emotions of
approval or disapproval 416
391. Changes in the moral emotions take place in accordance with
changes in the antecedent perceptions ib.
392. Of objects of moral approval and disapproval . . . .418
CHAPTER II.
RELATION OF REASONING TO THE MORAL NATURE
393. Of the doctrine which confounds reasoning and conscience . 419
394. Of the close connexion between conscience and reasoning . . 420
395. Illustration of the preceding section 421
396. Of the training or education of the conscience .... 422
397. Of guilt, when a person acts conscientiously .... 423
CHAPTER III.
f-EELINGS OF MORAL OBLIGATION.
J98. Feelings of moral obligj^tion distinct from feelings of moral appro-
val and disapproval 424
39§. Proof of the existence of obligatory feelings from consciouaness . ib.
•400. Fdrther proof from the conduct of men 425
401. Further proof from language and4iterature 426
402. Further proof from the necessity of these feeling* . . .437
XVI CONTENTS.
tectfam '^
403 Feelings of obligation simple and not susceptible of definition 42T
404. They are susceptible of different degrees . ... . .429
405. Of their auihontative and enforcing nature ib.
406. Feelings of obligation differ from those of mere approval and dis-
approval 429
407. Feelings of obligation have particular reference to the future . 430
408. Feelings of obligation subsequent in time to the moral emotions
of approval and disapproval 431
409. Feelings of obligation differ from desires 432
410. !• urther considerations on this subject ib.
CHAPTER IV.
CNirOBMITY OF ACTION IN THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES.
411. Of uniformity in fae decisions of the moral nature and the princi
pie on which it is regulated 433
412. The nature of conscience, considered as a uniform principle of ac-
tion, requires that it should vary in its decisions with circum-
stances 434
413. Diverrsities in moral decisions dependent on differences in the
amount of knowledge 436
414. Of diversities in moral judgment in connexion with differences
in civil and political institutions 437
415 Of diversities and obliquities of moral judgment in connexion
with speculative opinions ib.
416. Further illustrations of the influence of wrong speculative opin-
ions 439
417. Influence of early associations on moral judgments . . .440
418. Of diversities in the moral judgment in connexion with an excitet*
state of the passions . . 441
CHAPTER V.
MORAL EDOCATION.
419. Suggestions on the importance of moral education . . .442
420. The mind early occupied either with good or bad principles . 443
421. Of the time when moral instruction ought to commence . . 444
422. Of the discouragements attending a process of moral instruction 445
423. Of the importance, in a moral point of view, of adopting correct
speculative opinions 445
424. Of the knowledge of the Supreme Being, and of the study "of re-
ligious truth generally ^447
THE SENSIBILITIES, OR SENSITIVE NATURE.
SENSITIVE STATES OF THE MIND OR SENTIMENTS.
PART III.
IMPERFECT OR DISORDERED SENSITIVE ACTION.
CHAPTER I.
DISORDERED AND ALIENATED ACTION OF THE APPETITES AND PKOPBM
SITIES.
425. Introductory remarks on disordered sensitive action . . .451
426. Of what is meant by a disordered and alienated state of the seiisi
bihties ij-
437. Of the diiordered and alienated action of the appetites* ! * 45a
CONTENTS XVll
B«etkn . Pag*
428. Disordered action of the principle of self-preservation . . 454
429. Disordered and alienated action of the possessory principle . 455
430. Instances of the second kind or form of disordered action of the
possessory principle ib.
431. Disordered action of imitativeness, or the principle of imitation . 456
432. Disordered action of the principle of sociality .... 457
433. Further remarks on the disordered action of the social propensity 458
434. Of the disordered action of the desire of esteem .... 459
435. Disordered action of the desire of power 460
CHAPTER II.
SYMPATHETIC IMITATION.
436. Of sympathetic imitation, and what is involved in it . . .461
437. Familiar instances of sympathetic imitation ..... 462.
438. Instances of sympathetic imitation at the poor-house of Harlem . 4631
439. Other instances of this species of imitation . ... 464
CHAPTER III.
DISORDERED ACTION OF THE AFFECTIONS.
440. Of the states of mind denominated presentiments . . 465
441. Of sudden and strong impulses of the mind 467
442. Insanity of the affections or passions ...... 468
443. Of the mental disease termed hypochondriasis .... 469
444. Of intermissions of hypochondriasis, and of its remedies . .471
445. Disordered action of the passion of fear 473
446. Perversions of the benevolent afifections ib.
CHAPTER IV.
DISORDERED ACTION OF THE MORAL SENSIBIUTIBS.
447. Nature of voluntary moral derangement 476
448. Of accountability in connexion with this form of disordered con-
science 47C
449. Of natural or congenital moral derangement . . . .477
450. Of moral accountabilit j in cases of natural or congenital moral
derangement . ... ... 479
MENTAL PHILOSOPHY.
DIVISION FIRST.
THE INTELLECT OR UNDERSTANDING.
INTELLECTIVE OR INTELLECTUAL STATES OF THE MIND.
PART FIRST.
INTELLECTUAL STATES OF EXTERNAL ORIGIN.
MENTAL PHILOSOPHY.
CHAPTER L
ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL.
^ 1. The mind susceptible of a threefold division.
The Human Mind, regarded as a whole, is undoubted-
ly to be considered as constituting a nature or existence
which is truly, and in the strictest sense, one and indivis-
ible. At the same time, if we w^ould have a correct and
thorough knowledge of it, it is necessary to contemplate
it in three distinct points of view. Accordingly, the lead-
ing Divisions in which the Mind presents itself to our
notice, are the Understanding or Intellect, the Sensibili-
ties, and the Will. The states of mind which are the
results of the action of these leading mental departments,
are appropriately expressed by the phrases intellectual,
sensitive or sentient, and voluntary states of the mind.
— ^It is the object of t]iis Abridgment to examine, in as
brief a manner as possible, the Divisions which naturally
come first in order, viz., the Intellect and the Sensibilities
The limits which we find it necessary to assign to the
present undertaking, do not allow us to enter into an ex-
amination of the distinct and important department of the
Will.
^ 2. The Intellect susceptible of a subordinate division.
We begin with the Intellect or Understanding ; that
department of the mind by means of which we perceive,
compare, and reason 5 and which, in its various modes of
action, is the source of all our knowledge. The Intel-
lectual part of man may be considered under two points
of view, viz., the External Intellect and the Internal In-
tellect; in other words, intellectual states of External,
and intellectual states of Jjiternal origin. — Intellectual
states of External origin depend for their existence upon
18 ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL.
the- existence and presence of external* objects. If the
mind were insulated and cut off from the outward and
material world, or if there were no such outward world,
we could not touch, nor hear, nor see. All those mental
states which we express when we speak of the diversities
of touch, and smell, and taste, of sound and sight, are
immediately dependent on the existence and presence of
something which is exterior to the intellect itself.
But there are other states of the Intellect, such, for in-
stance, as are expressed by the words truth, falsehood,
POWER, INTELLIGENCE, MERIT, DEMERIT, CAUSE, OBLIGATION,
&c., which are not thus closely connected with external
things. And these, in distinction from those of Exter-
nal origin, are denominated intellectual states of Internal
origin.
4 3. Of the connexion of the mind with the material world.
As a general statement, the knowledge which is Exter-
nal in its origin is acquired first ; the knowledge which is
Internal is subsequent. The mind, whatever may ulti-
mately be found to be the extent of its powers of percep-
tion, appears, in the first instance, to be wholly destitute
of any actual knowledge ; and is first brought into action,
and is put in the way of acquiring* knowledge, by means
of its connexion with the material or outward world.
This leads us to remark, that there is a correspondence,
a mutual adaptation, between the mind and outward ma-
terial things. They appear to be made for each other.
The Creator has obviously established a close relation
between them ; and it is a striking and important fact,
that, in this connexion of the mental and material world,
as we have just had occasion to intimate, we are proba-
bly to look for the commencement of the mind's activity,
and for the beginnings of knowledge.
The soul, considered in its relationship to external na-
ture, may be compared to a stringed instrument. Re-
garded in itself, it is an invisible existence, having the
capacity and elements of harmony. The nerves, the eye,
and the senses generally, are the chords and artificial
framework which God has woven round its unseen and
unsearchable essence. This living and curious instru-
ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL. 19
merit, made up of the invisible soul and the bodily frame-
work which surrounds it, is atr first voiceless and silent.
Nor does it appear that it will ever send forth its sounds
of harmony, until it is touched and operated upon by
those outward influences which exist in the various forms
and adaptations of the material world. Under these in-
fluences it is first awakened into activity.
6 4. Our first knowledge in general of a material or external origin.
In accordance wdth what has been said, we lay down
the general principles, first, that during the early period
of life there is an intimate connexion between the mind
and the material w^orld ; and, second, that far the great-
er portion of the mind's acts during that period can be
traced to a material source. In proof of both positions,
particularly the latter, we may properly attend to the fol-
lowing considerations.
(I.) What has been said will, in the first place, be
found agreeable to each one's individual experience. If
we look back to the early periods of life, we discover,
not merely that our ideas are then comparatively few in
number, but that far the greater proportion of them are
suggested by external objects. They are forced upon us
by our immediate w^ants ; they have relation to what we
-ourselves see, or hear, or touch; and only a small pro-
portion are internal and abstract. As we advance in
years, susceptibilities of the mind are brought into exer-
cise, which have a less intimate connexion with things
external ; and thoughts from within are more rapidly
multiplied than from without. We have in some meas-
ure exhausted that which is external ; and as the mind,
awakened to a love of knowledge and a consciousness
of its powers, has at last been brought fully into action
by means of repeated affections of the senses, a new
world (as yet in some degree a terra incognita) projects
itself upon our attention, where we are called upon to
push our researches and gratify our curiosity. — ^This is the
general experience, the testimony which each one can
give for himself
() 5. Shown further from ^hat we notice in children.
In the second place, what has been said finds confirma-
20 ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL.
tion in what avx^, observe of the progress of the mind in
infants and children ger^erally. The course of things
which we observe in them, agrees with what our person-
al consciousness and remembrance, as far back as it goes,
enables us to testify with no little confidence in our own
case. No one can observe the operations of the mind in
infants and children, without being led to believe, that
the Creator has instituted a connexion between the mind
and the material world, and that the greater portion of
our early knowledge is from an outward source.
To the infant its nursery is the world. The first ideas
of the human race are its particular conceptions of its
nurse and mother ; and the origin and history of all its
notions may be traced to its animal wants, to the hght
that breaks in from its window, and to the few objects in
the immediate neighbourhood of the cradle and hearth.
When it has become a few years of age, there are other
sources of information, other fountains of thought, but
they are still external and material. The child then
learns the topography j^f his native village ; he explores
the margin of its river, ascends its flowering hills, and
penetrates the seclusion of its valleys. His mind is full
of activity ; new and exalting views crowd upon his per-
ceptions ; he beholds, and hears, and handles ; he won-
ders, and is delighted. And it is not till after he has
grasped the elements of knowledge which the outward
world gives, that he retires within himself, compares,
reasons, and seeks for causes and effects.
It is in accordance with what has now been stated of
the tendencies of mind in children, that we generally find
them instructed by means of sensible objects, or by pic-
tures of such objects. When their teachers make an ab-
s'Lract statement to them of an action or event, they do
not understand it ; they listen to it with an appearance
of confusion and vacancy, for the process is undoubtedly
against nature. But show them the objects themselves,
or a faithful picture of them, and interpret your abstract
expressions by a reference to the object or picture, and
they are observed to learn with rapidity and pleasure.
The time has not yet arrived for the springing up and
growth of thoughts of an internal and abstract origin.
ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL. 21
^ 6. Further proof of the beginnings of knowledge from external causes.
Li the third place, the history of language is a strong
proof of the correctness of the position, that the mind is
first brought into action by means of the senses, and ac-
quires its earliest knowledge from that source. At first
words are few in number, corresponding to the limited ex-
tent of ideas. The vocabulary of savage tribes (those,
for example, which inhabit the American continent) is in
general exceedingly limited. The growth of a language
corresponds to the growth of mind ; it extends itself by
the increased number and power of its words, nearly
in exact correspondence with the multiplication and the
increased complexity of thought. Now the history of all
languages teaches us, that words, which were invented
and brought into use one after another in the gradual way
just mentioned, were first employed to express external
objects, and afterward were used to express thoughts of
internal origin.
Almost all the words in every language, expressive of
the susceptibilities and operations of the mind, may be
clearly shown to have had an external origin and appli-
cation before they were applied to the mind. To imagine,
in its literal signification, implies the forming of a picture ;
to IMPRESS conveys the idea of leaving a stamp or mark,
as the seal leaves its exact likeness or stamp on wax ; to re-
flect literally means to turn- back, to go over the ground
again, &c. These words cannot be applied to the mind
in the literal sense ; the nature of the mind will not admit
of such an application ; the inference therefore is, that
they first had an external application. Now if it be an
established truth, as the history of languages seems to
show that it is, that all language has a primary reference
to external objects, and that there is no term expressive
of mental acts which was not originally expressive of
something material, the conclusion would seem to be a
fair one, that the part of our knowledge which has its rise
by means of the senses, is, as a general statement, first in
origin. And the more so, \fhen we combine with these
views the considerations which have been pre\"iously ad-
vanced.
22 ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL.
^ 7. The same subject further illustrated.
And, in the fourth place, it is not too much to say, that
all the observations which have been made on persons
who, from their birth or at any subsequent period, have
been deprived of any of the senses, and all the extraordi-
nary facts which have come to knowledge, having a bear-
ing on this im uiry, go strongly in favour ®f the views
which have been given. — It appears, for instance, from the
observations w^hich have been made in regard to persons
who have been deaf until a particular period, and then
have been restored to the powder of hearing, that they have
never previously had those ideas which naturally come in
by that sense. If a person has been born blind, the re-
sult is the same ; or if, having the sense of sight, it has so
happened that he has never seen any colours of a partic-
ular description. In the one case, he has no ideas of col-
ours at all ; and in the other, only of those colours which
he has seen. — It may be said, perhaps, that this is what
might be expected, and merely proves the senses to be a
source of knowledge, without necessarily involving the
priority of that knowledge to what has an internal origin.
But then observe the persons referred to a little further,
and it will be found, as a general statement, that the in-
ternal powers of their minds have not been unfolded ; they
lay wrapped up in a great measure in their original dark-
ness ; no inward light springs up to compensate for the
absence of that which, in other cases, bursts in from the
outward w^orld. This circumstance evidently tends to
confirm the principles which we are endeavouring to il-
lustrate.
Of those extraordinary instances to which we alluded,
as having thrown some light on the history of our intel-
lectual acquisitions, is the aocount which is given in the
Memoirs of the French Academy of Sciences for the .year
17(i3, of a deaf and dumb young man in the city of Char-
ties. iVt the age of three-and-twenty, it so happened, to
the great surprise of the whole town, that he was sud-
denly restored to the sense of hearing, and in a short time
he acquired the use of language. Deprived for so long a
period of a sense which, in importance, ranks with the
sight and the touch, unable to hold communion with his
ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL. 23
tellow-beings by means of oral or written language, and
not particularly compelled, as he had every care taken of
him by his friends and relations, to bring his faculties into
exercise, the powers of his mind remained without hav-
ing opportunity to unfold themselves. Being examined
by some men of discernment, it was found that he had no
idea of a God, of a soul, of the moral merit or demeril
of human actions, and, what might seem to be yet more
remarkable, he knew not what it w^as to die ; the agonies
of dissolution, the grief of friends, and the ceremonies
of interment being to him inexplicable mysteries.
Here we see how much knowledge a person was de-
prived of, merely by his wanting the single sense of hear-
ing ; a proof that the senses were designed by our Cre-
ator to be the first source of knowledge, and that without
them the faculties of the soul would never become oper-
ative.
^ 8. Illustration from the case of James Mitchell.
But this is not the only instance of this sort which m-
genious men have noticed and recorded. In the Transac-
tions of the Royal Society at Edinburgh, (vol. vii., part
i.,) is a Memoir communicated by Dugald Stewart, which
gives an account of James Mitchell, a boy bOrn deaf and
blind. The history of this lad, who laboured under the
uncommon affliction of this double deprivation, illustrates
and confirms all that has been above stated. He made
what use he could of the only senses which he possessed,
those of touch, taste, and smell, and gained from them a
number of ideas. It was a proof of the diUgence with
which he employed' the limited means which were given
him, that he had by the sense of touch thoroughly ex-
plored the ground in the neighbourhood of the house
where he lived for hundreds of yards. But deprived of
sight, of hearing, and of intercourse by speech, it was
very evident to those who observed him, as might be eXf
pected, that his knowledge was in amount exceedingly
small. He was destitute of 4hose perceptions which are
a])propriate to the particular senses of which he was de-
prived; and also of many other notions of an internal
origin, which would undoubtedly have arisen, if tJie
24 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
powers of the mind had previously been rendered fully
operative by means of those assistances which it usually
receives from the bodily organs. — Such instances as these",
however they may at first appear, are extremely impor
tant. They furnish us with an appeal, not to mere spec-
ulations, but to fact. And it is only by checking undue
speculation, and by continually recurring to facts, that
our progrGJS in this science will become sure, rapid, and
delightful.
CHAPTER II.
SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
^ 9. Sensation a simple mental state originating in the senses.
In tracing the history of that portion of human thought
which is of external origin, we have frequent occasion to
make use of the words Sensation and Perception. The
term sensation is not of so general a nature as to include
every variety of mental state, but is limited to such as
answer to a particular description. It does not appear
that the usage of language would forbid our speaking of
the feelings of warmth, and coldness, and hardness, as
well as of the feelings of love, and benevolence, and an-
ger, but it would clearly forbid our using the term sensa-
tion with an application equally extensive. Its applica-
tion is not only limited, but is fixed with a considerable
degree of precision.
Sensation, being a simple act or state of the mind, is
unsusceptible of definition ; and this is one of its charac-
teristics. As this alone, however, would not separate it
from many other mental states, it has this peculiarity to
flistinguish it, that it is immediately successive to a change
in some organ ff sense, or, at least, to a bodily change of
some kind. But it is evident, that, in respect to numerous
other feelings, this statement does not hold good. They
are immediately subsequent, not to bodily impre^ions,
but to other states of the soul itself. Hence it is, thai
SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 25
while we speak of the sensations of heat and cold, of
hardness, of smoothness, roughness, and the like, we do
not commonly apply this term to joy and sorrow, hatred
and love, and other emotions and passions.
^10. AH sensation is properly and truly in the mind.
Sensation is often regarded as something having a po-
sition, and as taking place in the body, and particularly
in the organ of sense. The. sensation of touch, as we
seem to imagine, is in the hand, which is the organ of
touch, and is not truly internal ; the hearing is in the ear,
and the vision in the eye, and not in the soul. But all
we can say with truth and on good grounds is, that the
organs of sense are accessory to sensation and necessary
to it ; but the sensation or feeling itself is wholly in the
mind. How often it is said the eye sees ; but the proper
language, if we look at the subject philosophically, is,
that the soul sees ; for the eye is only the organ, instru-
ment, or minister of the soul in visual perceptions.
" A man," says Dr Reid, " 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 ro
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 ol*
sight, by which we see ; but the natural organ sees as lit •
tie as the artificial."
<^ 11. Sensations are not images or resemblances of objects.
" But while we are careful to assign sensations their true
place in the mind, and to look upon what is outward in
the body as merely the antecedents or cause of them, it is
a matter of some consequence to guard against a dangier
directly the reverse of that which has been remarked on.
We are apt to transfer to the sensation, considered as ex-
isting in the mind, some of those qualities which belong to
the external object. But in ^int of fact, our sensations
are by no means copies, pictures, or images of outward ob-
jects ; nor are they representations of them in any material
sense whatever ; nor do they possess any of their qualities.
C
26 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
It is true, we often think it otherwise ; constantly oc
cupied with external objects, when in the act of con
templation we retire within the mind, we unwarily carr}
with us the form and quahties of matter, and stamp iti
likeness on the thought itself. But the thought, whatev-
er it may by the constitution of our nature be the sign of,
has no form, and presents no image analogous to what
are outwardly objects of touch and sight ; nor has it form
or image in any sense which we can conceive of. When,
therefore, we have an idea of some object as round, we
srre not to infer, from the existence of the quality in the
outward object, that the mental state is possessed of the
same quality. When we think of anything as extended,
it is not to be supposed that the thought itself has exten-
sion. When we behold and admire the varieties of
colour, we are not at liberty to indulge the presumption
that the inward feelings are painted over, and radiant
with corresponding huos. There is nothing of the kind ;
and the admission of such a principle would lead to a
multitude of errors.
^ 12. The connexion between the mental and physical change not capa
ble of explanation.
(I.) External bodies operate on the senses, before
there is any affection of the mind, but it is not easy to say
what the precise character and extent of this operation
is. We know that some object capable of affecting the
organ must be applied to it in some way either directly or
indirectly, and it is a matter of knowledge also, that some
change in the organ actually takes place; but further
than this we are involved in uncertainty. All we ^ can
imdertake to do at present is merely to make a statement
of the facts, viz., the application of an external body,
and some change in consequence of it in the organ of
sense.
(11.) Subsequently to the change in the organ, either
at its extremity and outward developement or in the
brain, with which it is connected, and of which it may be
considered as making a part, a change in the mind or a
new state of the mind immediately takes place. Here
also we are limited ,to the mere statement of the fact
SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 27
We here touch upon one of those boundaries of the in-
tellect which men are probably not destined to pass in the
present life. We find ourselves unable to resolve and
explain the connexion between mind and matter in this
case, as we do in all others. All we know, and all we
can state with confidence is, that a mental affection is
immediately subsequent to an affection or change which
is ph3^sical. Such is our nature, and such the appoint-
ment of Him who ordered it.
^ 13. Of the meaning and nature of perception.
We next come to the subject of perception, which is
intimately connected with that of sensation. This term,
like many others, admits of a considerable latitude in its
application. In common language we are not only said
to have the power of perceiving outward objects, but also
of perceiving the agreement or disagreement in the acts
of the mind itself. Accordingly, w^e perceive a tree in
the forest or a ship at sea, and we also perceive that the
whole is greater than a part, and that the three angles of
a triangle are equal 1o two right angles. But what we
have to say here does not concern internal perception, but
merely that which relates to objects exterior to the mind
Perception, using the term in its application to outward
objects, differs from sensation as a whole does from a part ;
it embraces more. It may be defined, therefore, an affec-
tion or state of the mind which is immediately successive
to certain affections of the organs of sense, and which is
referred by us to something external as its cause.
f) 14. Perception makes us acquainted with a material world.
It will be recollected, that the term sensation, when
applied to the mind, expresses merely the state of the
miixd, without reference to anything external, which might
be the cause of it, and that it is the name of a truly sim-
ple feeling. Perception, on the contrary, is the name of
a complex mental state, including not merely the internal
Affection of the mind, but alsoi a reference to the exterioi
cause. Sensation is wholly within ; but Perception car-
ries us, as it were, out of ourselves, and makes us ac-
quainted with the world around us. It is especially by
28 SENSATTON AND PERCEPTION.
means of this last power, that material nature, in all its
varieties of form and beauty, is brought within the range
of o;ir inspection. If we had but sensation alone, there
would still be form, and fragrance, and colour, and har-
mony of sound, but it would seem to be wholly inward
The mind would seem to constitute everything ; we could
know no other world, no other form of being. Percep-
tion prevents the possibility of such a mistake ; it unde-
ceives and dissipates the flattering notion, that all things
are in the soul ; it leads us to other existences, and, m
particular, to the knowledge of the vast and complicated
fabric of the material creation.
^ 15. Of the primary and secondary qualities of matter
From what has been said, it will be noticed that sen-
sation implies the existence of an external material world
as its cause, and that perception implies the same exist-
ence both as cause and object. It is hardly necessary to
Sjiy, that we are altogether ignorant of the subjective or
real essence of matter. Our knowledge embraces merely
its qualities or properties, and nothing more. Without
proposing to enter into a minute examination of them, it
will be proper to state here, that the qualities of material
bodies have been ranked by writers under the two heads
of Primary and Secondary.
The PRIMARY qualities are known by being essential to
the existence of all bodies. They are extension, figuie,
divisibility, and solidity ; and some writers have included
motion. They are called primary for the reason already
distinctly referred to, that all men embrace them in the
notions which they form of matter, and that they are es- •
sential to its existence. All bodies have extension, all
bodies have figure, all are capable of division, all possess
the attribute of solidity.
By SOLIDITY in bodies (perhaps some would prefer the
term resistance) is to be understood that quality by which
a body hinders the approach of others between which it
is interposed. In this sense 'even w^ater, and all other
fluids are solid. If particles of water could be prevented
from separating, they would oppose so great resistance,
that it would be impossible for any two bodies between
SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 29
which they might be to come in contact. This was
shown in an experiment which was once made at Flor-
ence. A quantity of water was enclosed in a gold ball,
which, on the most violent pressure, could not be made to
fill the internal cavity until the water inside was forced
through the pores.
There is reason also for tkat part of the arrangement
which includes divisibility. We cannot conceive of a
particle so small as not to be susceptible of division.
And to that small particle must belong, not only divisi-
bility, but the quahties of solidity, extension, and figure.
<J 16. Of the secondary qualities of matter.
Xhe SECONDARY qualities of bodies are of two kinds.
( 1. ) Those which have relation to the percei\dng and
sentient mind; (2.) Those which have relation to other
bodies.
Under the first class are to be included sound, colour,
taste, smell, hardness and softness, heat and cold, rough-
ness and smoothness, &c. When we say of a body it
has sound, we imply in this remark that it possesses
qualities which will cause certain effects in the mind;
the term sound being applicable, by the use of language,
both to the qualities of the external object and to the ef-
fect produced within. When we say it has colour, we
always make a like reference to the mind, which beholds
and contemplates it ; and it is the same of the other sec-
ond arj^ qualities of this description.
The other class of secondary qualities, (or properties,
as they are not unfrequently termed,) those which have
relation to other material bodies, are exceedingly various
and numerous. The material substance which, in rela-
tion to the mind, possesses the qualities of sound and col-
our, may possess also, in relation to other bodies, the qual-
iti(s or properties of malleability, fusibility, solubility,
permeability, and the like.
C2
8d THE SENSES OF SMELL AND TASTE
CHAPTER III.
THE SENSES OF SMELL AND TASTE.
^ 17. Nature and importance of the senses as a source of knowledge.
It is desirable to keep clearly in mind the precise re-
lation of the senses to the origin, progress, and amount
of our knowledge, and to possess, if possible, a correct
understanding of their true value. In a certain sense, the
possession of the bodily organs with which we are fur-
nished, is not essential and prerequisite to the possession
of that knowledge which we are accustomed to ascftbe
to them. There is nothing unwarrantable and unreason-
able in the supposition, that the knowledge which we
now have by their means might have been possessed
without their aid, either immediately, or in some way
altogether different. Their use and indispensableness in
the acquisition of a certain portion of what men are per-
mitted to know, is a matter of arrangement and appoint-
ment on the part of our Maker. It is undoubtedly an
evidence of the correctness of this remark, that the Su-
preme Being has a full acquaintance with all those out-
ward objects which present themselves to our notice,
without being indebted to any material instrumentality
and mediation. He perceives in another way, or, rather,
all knowledge is inherent in, and originally and unalter-
ably essential to himself.
It is not so, as we have reason to beheve, with any
other beings, and certainly not with man. Although a
great part of his knowledge relates to material things, he
' is so formed, and his constitution is so ordered, that he is
wholly dependent for it on the senses. — Deprive him of
the ear, and all nature becomes silent ; deprive him of
the eye, and the sun and moon withdraw their light, and
the universe becomes darkened ; deprive him of the sense
of touch, and he is then entirely insulated, and as much
cut ofl[ from all communication with others as if he were
the only being in existence.
THE SENSES OF SMELL AND TASTE. 31
^18. Connexion of th^ brain with sensation and perception •
(I.) It may perhaps be asked, Whether these views
tL e intended to exclude the brain, as having a connexion
with the .senses in the results which are here ascribed to
them ? And this inquiry leads us to observe, (w^hat has
been before alluded to,) that the brain is a prominent or-
gan in the material part of the process of sensation and
of external perception. The senses evidently cannot be
separated from the nervous system. But the substance
which is found in the nerves, excepting the coat in which
it is enveloped, is the same as in the brain, being of the
same soft and fibrous texture, and in continuity with it.
As a general statement, when the brain has been in any
way injured, the inward sensation, which would other-
wise be distinct on the presence of an external body, is
imperfect. Also, if the nerve be injured, or if its conti-
nuity be disturbed by the pressure of a tight ligature, the
effect is the same ; a circumstance which goes to confirm
the alleged identity of substance in the two.
(II.) The brain, therefore, and whatever of the same,
substance is in continuity with it, particularly the nerves,
constitutes the sensorial organ, which, in the subordinate
organs of taste, smell, sight, touch, and hearing, presents
itself under different modifications to external objects. On
this organ, the sensorial, as thus explained, an impression
must be made before there can be sensation and percep-
tion.
An impression, for instance, is made on that part of the
sensorial organ called the auditory nerve, and a state of
mind immediately succeeds which is variously termed, ac-
cording to the view in which it is contemplated, either
the sensation or the perception of sound.
An impression is made by the rays of light on that ex-
pansion of the optic nerve which forms what is called the
RETINA of the eye, and the intellectual principle is imme-
diately brought into that new position, which is termed
►visual perception or a perception of sight.
The hand is impressed oif a body of an uneven and
rough surface, and immediately consequent on this appli-
cation and pressure is that state of mind which is termed
a sensation or perception of roughness.
32 THE SENSES OF SMELL AND TASTE.
■• ^19. Order in which the senses are to be considered.
In considering those ideas which we become possessed
of by means of the senses, it is natural to begin with that
sense which will cause us the least difficulty in.the anal-
ysis of its results ; and to proceed to others successively,
as we find them increasing in importance. It may not be
altogether easy to apply this principle with strictness, but
it will answer all the purpose for which it is here intro-
duced, if we consider the senses in the following order,
the smell, taste, hearing, touch, and sight.
The mind holds a communicatioa with the material
world by means of the sense of smelling. All animal
and vegetable bodies (and the same will probably hold
good of other bodies, though generally in a less degree)
are continually sending out effluvia of great subtilty.
These small particles are rapidly and widely scattered
abroad in the neighbourhood of the body from which they
proceed. No sentient being can come within the circum-
ference occupied by these continually moving and vola-
tile atoms, without experiencing effects from it.
^ 20. Of the sense and sensations of smell.
The medium through which we have the sensations
and perceptions of smell, is the organ which is termed
the olfactory nerve, situated principally in the nostrils, but
partly in some continuous cavities. When some odorifer-
ous particles, sent from external objects, affect this organ,
there is a certain state of mind produced which varies
with the nature of the odoriferous bodies. But we can no
•more infer from the sensation itself merely, that there ex-
ists any necessary connexion between the smell and the
external objects, than that there exists a connexion be-
tween the emotions of joy and sorrow and the same ob-
jects. It might indeed be suggested to us by the change
in our mental states, that there must be some cause or an-
tecedent to the change, but this suggestion would be far
fi'om implying the necessity of a corporeal cause.
(II.) How then does it happen, that we are not merely
.sensible of the particular sensation, but refer it at once to
some external object, to the rose, or the honeysuckle 1
In answer it may be remarked, if we had always been
THE SENSES OF SMELL AND TASTB. 33
destitute of the senses of sight and touch, this refepence
never could b^ve been made ; but, having been furnished
with them by the -beneficent Author of our being, we
itiske this reference by experience. When we have seen
the rose, when we have been near to it and handled it, we
have uniformly been conscious of that state of mind which
we term a sensation of smell. When we have come into
the neighbourhood of the honeysuckle, or when it has
been gathered and presented to us, we have been remind-
ed of its fragrance. And thus, having learned by expe-
rience that the presence of the odoriferous body is always
attended with the sensations of smell, we form the habit
of attributing the sensations to that body as their cause
^ 21. Of perceptions of smell in distinction from sensations.
The mental reference spoken of in the last section is
made with almost as much promptness as if it were ne-
cessarily involved in the sensation itself. It is at least so
rapid, that we find ourselves utterly unable to mark the
mind's progress from the inward feeling to the concep'
tion of the outward cause. Nor is this inability surpri-
sing, when we consider that we have repeated this pro
cess, both in this and in analogous cases, from our earli
est childhood. No object has ever been present to un
capable of operating on the senses, where this process has
not been gone through. The result of this long-contin-
ued and frequent repetition has been an astonishing quick-
ness in the mental action ; so much so that the mind leaps
outward with the rapidity of lightning, to be present
with, and to comprehend the causes of the feeling within.
This view, it will be seen, helps in illustrating the na-
ture of PERCEPTION as distinguished from sensation. The
outlines of that distinction have already been given ; and
every one of the senses, as well as that now under consid-
eration, will furnish proofs and illustrations of it. Ac-
cordingly, when we are said to perceive the smell, or to
have perceptions of the smell of a body, the rapid pro-
*cess which has been described is gone through, and the
three things which were involved in the definition of Per-
ception, already given, are supposed to exist; (1.) The
presence of the odoriferous body and the affection of it3
34 THE SENSES OF SMELL AND TASTE.
appropricte organ; (2.) The change or sensation in the
mind; and, (3.) The reference of the sensation to the ex-
ternal body as its cause.
^ 22. Of the sense and the sensations of taste.
The tongue, which is covered with numerous nervous
papillae, forms essentially the organ of taste, although
the papillffi are found scattered in other parts of the cavi-
ty of the mouth. The application of any sapid body to
this organ immediately causes in it a change or affec-
tion ; and that is at once followed by a mental affection
or a new state of the mind. In this way we have the sen-
sations and perceptions, to which we give the names
sweet, bitter, sour, acrid, &c.
Having experienced the inward sensation, the affections
of the mind are then referred by us to something external
as their cause. We do not, however, always, nor even gen-
erally, distinguish the qualities which constitute this cause
by separate and appropriate designations; but express
them by the names that are employed for the internal
feeling, viz., sweetness, bitterness, sourness, &c. This
reference of what is internally experienced to its external
cause is very rapidly made ; so that we at once say of
one apple it is sweet, and of another it is sour. Still it
is to be kept in mind, that, in point of fact, it is subse-
quent, both in the order of nature and of time, to the
mere sensation ; although we may not be able, in conse-
quence of its rapidity, to mark distinctly the progress of
the mental action from the one to the other. As in the case
of smells, which have already been remarked upon, the
reference is the result of our former experience. We say
pf one body it is sweet, and of another it is sour, be-
cause wti have ever observed that the mental states in-
dicated by those terms have always existed in connexion
with the presence of those bodies.
When'ever, therefore, w^e say of any bodies that they
are sweet, bitter, sour, or apply any other epithets ex-
pressive of sapid qualities, we mean to be understood to
say that such bodies are fitted, in the constitution of
things, to 2ause in the mind the sensations of sweetness,
bitterness, and sourness, or other sensations expressed bv
THE SENSE OF HEARING. 35
denominations of taste. Or, in other words, that they
ixe the established antecedents of such mental states, as
there is, further than this, no necessary connexion be-
tween them.
CHAPTER rV.
THE SENSE OF HEARING.
^ 23. Organ of the sense of hearing.
Following the order which has been proposed, we ai\»
next to consider the sense of hearing. And, in proceed-
ing to the consideration of this subject, the remark is a
very obvious one, that we should be unable to hear if we
had not a sense designed for, and appropriate to, that re-
sult. The air,, when put strongly in motion, is distinctly
perceived by the touch ; but no impression which it could
make on that sense would cause that internal feeling
which is termed a sensation of sound. Our Creator,
therefore, has taken care that these sensations shall have
their own organ ; and it is obviously one of precise and
elaborate workmanship.
The ear is designedly planted in a position where,
with the greatest ease, it takes cognizance of whatever is
going on in the contiguous atmosphere. When we ex-
amine it externally, we not only find it thus favourably
situated, but presenting a hollowed and capacious sur-
face, so formed as to grasp and gather in the undula-
tions of air, continually floating and in motion around it.
Without, however, delaying to give a minute description
of the internal construction of the ear, which belongs
rather to the physiologist, it will answer our present pm^-
pose merely to add, that these undulations are conducted
by it through various windings, till they are brought in a
^tate of concentration, as it were, against the membrane
called the tympanum. — It is Worthy of notice, that on the
internal surface of this membrane (the drum, as it is pop-
ularly called) there is a nerve spread out in a manner
analogous to the expansion of the optic nerve at the hot-
36 THE SENSE OF HEARING.
torn of the eye. Whether this nervous expansion be in-
dispensably necessary to the result or not, it is certain
that a pressure upon or affection of the tympanum by the
external air, is followed by a new state of the mind,
known as the sensation or perception of sound.
^ 24. Varieties of the sensation of sound.
The sensations which we thus become possessed of by
the hearing are far more numerous than the words and
the forms of speech, having relation to them in different
languages, would lead us to suppose. It will help to il-
lustrate this subject if we recur a moment to the sense
of TASTE. The remark has somewhere been made to this
effect, and probably with much truth, that if a person
were to examine five hundred different wines, he would
hardly fmd two of them of precisely the same flavour.
The diversity is almost endless, although there is no lan-
guage which distinguishes each variety of taste by a sep-
arate name. It is the same in respect to the sensations
of sound. These sensations exhibit the greatest variety,
although their differences are too minute to be separately
and distinctly represented by language.
These views will appear the less objectionable when
it is remembered that sounds differ from each other both
in the tone and in the strength of the tone. It is remark-
ed by Dr. Reid, that five hundred variations of tone may
be perceived by the ear, also an equal number of varia-
tions in the strength of the tone ; making, as he express-
ly informs us, by a combination of the tones and' of the
degrees of strength, more than twenty thousand simple
sounds, differing either in tone or strength.
. In a perfect tone, a great many undulations of elastic
air are required, which must be of equal duration and
extent, and follow each other with perfect regularity.
Each undulation is made up of the advance and retreat
of innumerable particles, whose motions are all uniform
in direction, force, and time. Accordingly, there will
be varieties also and shades of difference in the same
tone, arising from the position and manner of striking the
sonorous body, from the constitution of the elastic medi-
um, and from the state of the organ of hearing.
THE SENSE OF HEARING. 37
Different instruments, such as a flute, a violin, and a
bass-viol, may all sound the same tone, and yet be easily
distinguishable. A considerable number of human voices
may sound the same note, and with equal strength, and
yet there will be some difference. The same voice,
while it maintains the proper distinctions of sound, may
yet be varied many ways by sickness or health, youth or
age, and other alterations in our bodily condition to
which we are incident.
() 25. Manner in which we learn the place of sounds.
It is a fact particularly worthy of notice in respect to
sounds, that we should not know, previous to all experi-
ence on the subject, whether a sound came from the right
or left, from above or below, from a smaller or greater
distance. And this will appear the less surprising when
we remember that the undulations of air are always
changed from their original direction by the channels and
the windings of the ear before they strike the tympanum.
Abundant facts confirm this statement.
Dr. Reid mentions, that once, as he was lying in bed,
having been put into a fright, he heard his own heart beat.
He took it to be some one knocking at the door, and
arose and opened the door oftener than once before he
discovered that the sound was in his own breast. Some
traveller has related that,- whea he first heard the roaring
of a lion in a desert wiidern-ess, not seeing the animal,
lie did not know on whi^ side to apprehend danger, as
the sound seemed to him to proceed from the ground, and
to enclose a circle, of which he and his companions stood
in the centre.
It is by custom or experience that we learn to distin-
guish the place of things, and, in some measiure also, their
nature, by means of their sound. It is thus that we learn
that one noise is in a contiguous room, that -another is
above our heads, and another is in the street. And what
Ipems to, be an evidence of this is, that when we are in a
strange place, after all our experience, we very frequent-
ly find ourselves mistaken in these respects
If a man born deaf were suddenly made to hear, he
would probably consider his first sensations of sound as
ZS THE SENSE OF TOUCH.
originating wholly within himself. But in process of
time we learn not only to refer the origin of sounds to a
position above or below, to the right or left ; but to con-
nect each particular sound with a particular external
cause, referring one to a bell as its appropriate external
cause, another to a flute, another to a trumpet.
CHAPTER V.
THE SENSE OF TOUCH.
^ 26. Of the sense of touch in general and its sensations.
We are next to consider the sense of touch. The
principal organ of this sense is the hand, although it is not
limited to that part of our frame, but is diffused over the
whole body. The hand principally arrests our attention
as the organ of this sense, because, being furnished with
various articulations, it is easily moveable by the muscles,
and can readily adapt itself to the various changes of
form in the objects to which it is applied.
The senses, which have hitherto been examined, are
more simple and uniform in their results than that of the
touch. By the ear we merely possess that sensation
which we denominate hearing ; we have the knowledge
of sounds, and that is all. By the palate we acquire a
knowledge of tastes, and by the sense of smelling we
become acquainted with the odours of bodies. The
knowledge which is directly acquired by all these senses
is limited to the qualities which have been mentioned.
By the sense of touch, on the contrary, we become ac-
quainted not with one merely, but with a variety of quali-
ties, such as the following, heat and cold, hardness and
softness, roughness and smoothness, solidity or resistance,
extension, and figure ; and, in particular, it gives occasion
for the origin of the antecedent and more general notion
of externality.
<^ 27. Idea of externality suggested in connexion with the touch.
If man were possessed of the sense of smell alone, it
would be found that the earliest elements of his knowl-
THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 39
edge consisted exclusively in sensations of odours. Ac-
cording, however, as these sensations were agreeable or
disagreeable, he would acquire the additional ideas of
pleasure and pain. And having experienced pleasure
and pain, we may suppose that this w^ould subsequently
give rise both to the feelings and the abstract concep-
tions of desire and aversion. But if he had no other
sense, all these feelings would seem to him to be internal,
not only in their experience, but their origin ; in other
words, to be mere emanations from the soul itself; and
he would be incapable of referring them to an external
cause. — If he w^ere possessed of the sense of hearing
alone, the result would be similar ; his existence would
then seem to consist essentially of sounds, as in the other
case it would be made up of odours ; nor, indeed, by the
aid of merely both these senses combined would he be
able to form an idea of externality or outwardness.
But this idea is a most important one ; it is the con-
necting thought which introduces us to an acquaintance
with a new form of existence, different from that inte-
rior existence which we variously call by the names
spirit, mind, or soul. This idea first arises in the mind,
although it is not directly addressed to that sense, by
means of the touch.
There is no question that the other senses might of
themselves furnish a basis of considerable extent for the
mental action. By means of their aid alone, such a de-
velopement of the mind might take place, that we could
perceive, think, compare, abstract, reason, and will. And
although, under such circumstances, everything would
seem to us to be internal, yet we should probably find
the mental action unembarrassed and easy, and a source
of pleasure. But after a time we decide to move the
limbs in a particular direction, and to press the hand or
some other part of the body through some hard and re-
sisting substance. It is when w^e attempt to do anything
of this kind, which calls the sense of touch into action,
mat we find the wonted serief^of thoughts disturbed, the
desire checked, and the volition counteracted. It is
probably at this precise position of the mind, with scarce-
ly the interval of a momentary pause of wonder, that
16 THE SENSE OF TOUCH.
there arises vividly in the soul a new perception, a new
thought, which we call the idea of externality or outness.
It is the sense of touch which impinges upon the obsta-
cle that stands in our way ; and no other sense admits
of this peculiar application. It is thus the means of par-
tially disturbing the previous connexion and tendency of
thought, and of giving occasion for the rise of the new
idea which is under consideration. And this idea, called
into existence under these circumstances, becomes associ-
ated with all those notions which we subsequently form
of matter. — It may be of some importance to add here,
that we shall have occasion to refer to this idea again
under the head of Original Suggestion. It is to be re-
membered, that externality is not a direct object of the
touch, as extension and hardness are, but that the tactual
sense simply furnishes the occasion on which it is formed.
^ 28. Origin of the notion of extension, and of form or figure.
The idea of extension has its origin by means of the
sense of touch. When the touch is applied to bodies,
where in the intermediate parts there is a continuity of
the same substance, we necessarily form that notion. It
is not, however, to be imagined that Extension, as it ex-
ists outwardly, and the corresponding notion in the mind,
actually resemble each other. So far from any imitation
and copying from one to the other, or resemblance in any-
way, there is a radical and utter diversity. As to out-
ward, material extension, it is not necessary to attend to
it here ; our business at present is with the corresponding
inward feeling. Nor will it be necessary to delay even
upon that ; the more we multiply words upon it, the more
obscure it becomes. As it is a simple idea, we cannot re-
solve it into others, and in that way make it clearer by
defining it. We must refer in this case, as in others like
it, to each one's personal experience. It will be better
luiderstood in that way than by any form of words.
The notion of extension is intimately connected "with,
and may be considered in some sort the foundation of,
that of the form or figure of bodies. — Dr. Brown some-
where calls the Form of bodies their relation to each other
in space. This is thought to afford matter for reflection ;
THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 41
but when we consider that space, whatever it may be ob-
jectively or outwardly, exists in the mind as a simple no-
tion, and that the particular relation here spoken of is not
pointed out, the remark may not be found to throw much
light on the subject. Still we do not suppose that any
one is ignorant of what form is ; men must be supposed
to know that, if they are thought to know anything. All
that is meant to be asserted here is, that the idea of ex-
tension is antecedent, in the order of nature, to that of
form; and that the latter could not exist vdthout the
other ; but that both, nevertheless, are simple, and both
are to be ascribed to the sense of touch.
^ 29. On the sensations of heat and cold.
Among the states of mind which are usually classed
with the intimations of the sense under consideration, are.
those which are connected with changes in the tempera-
ture of our bodies. Some writers, it is true, have been
inclined to dissent from this arrangement, and have haz-
arded an opinion that they ought not to be ascribed to
the sense of touch ; but Dr. Reid, on the contrary, who
gave to our sensations the most careful and patient atten-
tion, has decidedly assigned to them this origin. Among
other remarks, he has expressed himself on this subject to
this effect.
'•' The words heat and cold," he remarks, (Inquiry into
the Human Mind, ch. v.,) " have each of them two signi-
fications ; they sometimes signify certain sensations of the
mind, which can have no existence when they are not
felt, nor can exist anywhere but in the mind or sentient
being ; but more frequently they signify a quality in bod-
ies, w^hich, by the laws of nature, occasions the sensations
of heat and cold in us; a quality which, though con-
nected by custom so closely with the sensation that we
cannot without difficulty separate them, yet hath not
the least resemblance to it, and may continue to exist
^hen there is no sensation at all.
" The sensations of heat anfl cold are perfectly known,
for they neither are, nor can be, anything else than what
we feel them to be ; but the qualities in bodies, which we
call heat and cold, are unknown. They are only conceiv-
D2
43 THI': «F,NSE OF TOUCH.
ed by US as unknown causes or occasions of the sensations,
to which we give the same names. But though common
sense says nothing of the nature of the quahties, it plainly
indicates the existence of them ; and to deny that there
can be heat and cold when they are not felt, is an ab-
surdity too gross to merit confutation. For what could
be more absurd than to say that the thermometer cannot
rise or fall unless some person be present, or that the coast
of Guinea would be as cold as Nova Zembla if it had no
inhabitants.
" It is the business of philosophers to investigate, by
proper experiments and induction, what heat and cold
are in bodies. And whether they make heat a particular
element diffused through nature, and accumulated in the
heated body, or whether they make it a certain vibration
.of the parts of the heated body; Avhether they determine
that heat and cold are contrary qualities, as the sensations
undoubtedly are contrary, or that heat only is a quality,
and cold its privation; these questions are within the
province of philosophy ; for common sense says nothing
on the one side or the other.
" But, whatever be the nature of that quality in bodies
which we call heat, we certainly know this, that it can-
not in the least resemble the sensation of heat. It is no
less absurd to suppose a likeness between the sensation
and the quality, than it would be to suppose that the
pain of the gout resembles a square or a triangle. The
simplest man that hath common sense does not imagine
the sensation of heat, or anything that resembles that
sensation, to be in the fire. He only imagines that there
is something in- the fire which makes him and other sen-
tient beings feel heat. Yet as the name of heat, in com-
mon language, more frequently and more properly signi-
fies this unknown something in the fire than the sensa-
tion occasioned by it, he justly laughs at the philosopher
who denies that there is any heat in the fire, and thinks
that he speaks contrary to common sense."
() 30. Of the sensations of hardness and softness.
"Let US next consider," continues the same writer,
'* HARDNESS and softness; by which words we always
THE SKNSE OF TOUCH. 43
understand real properties or qualities of bodies, of which
we have a distinct conception.
" When the parts of a body adhere so firmly that it
cannot easily be made to change its figure, we call
t hard ; when its parts are easily displaced, we call it
soft. This is the notion which all mankind have of hard-
ness and softness : they are neither sensations nor like
any sensation ; they were real qualities -before they were
perceived by touch, and continue to be so when they are
not perceived : for if any man will affirm that diamonds
were not hard till they were handled, who would reason
with him ?
" There is, no doubt, a sensation by which we perceive
a body to be hard or soft. This sensation of hardness may
easily be had by pressing one's hand against a 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. But it is one thing to have the sen-
sation, and another to attend to it and make it a distinct
object of reflection. The first is very easy ; the last, in
most cases, extremely difficult.
" We are so accustomed to use the sensation as a sign,
and to pass immediately to the hardness signified, that, as
far as appears, it was never made an object of thought,
either by the vulgar or by philosophers; nor has it a
name in any language. There is no sensation more dis-
tinct or more frequent ; yet it is never attended to, but
passes through the mind instantaneously, and serves only
to introduce that quality in bodies which, by a law of our
constitution, it suggests.
" There are, indeed, some cases wherein it is no difficult
matter to attend to the sensation occasioned by the hard-
ness of a body ; for instance, when it is so violent as to,
occasion considerable pain : then nature calls upon us to
attend to it ; and then we acknowledge that it is a mere
sensation, and can only be in a sentient being. If a man
j^uns his head with violence against a pillar, I appeal to
him whether the pain he feel? resembles the hardness of
the stone ; or if he can conceive anything like what he
feels to be in an inanimate piece of matter.
" The attention of the mind is here entirely turned to-
44 THE SENSE OF TOUCH.
wards the painful feeling* ; arid, to speak in the common
language of mankind, he feels nothing in the stone, but
feels a violent pain in his head. It is quite otherwise
when he leans his head gently against the pillar ; for then
he will tell you that he feels nothing in his head, but feels
hardness in the stone. Hath he not a sensation in this
case as well as in the other ? Undoubtedly he hath ;
but it is a sensation which nature intended only as a sign
of something in the stone ; and, accordingly, he instant-
ly fixes his attention upon the thing signified ; and can-
not, without great difficulty, attend so much to the sen-
sation as to be persuaded that there is any such thing
distinct from the Hardness it signifies.
" But however difficult it may be to attend to this fugi-
tive sensation, to stop its rapid progress, and to disjoin it
from the external quality of hardness, in whose shadow
it is apt immediately to hide itself: this is what a philos-
opher by pains and practice must attain, otherwise it
will be impossible for him to reason justly upon this sub-
ject, or even to understand what is here advanced. Foi
the last appeal, in subjects of this nature, must be to what
a mon feels and perceives in his own mind."
^31. Of certain indefinite feelings sometimes ascribed to the touch.
In connexion with these views on the sensations of
touch, it is proper to remark, that certain feelings have
been ascribed to that sense, which are probably of a char-
acter too indefinite to admit of a positive and undoubted
classification. Although they clearly have their place in
the general arrangement which has been laid down, with
the states of mind which we are now considering ; that
is to say, are rather of an external and material, than of
an internal origin ; still they do not so evidently admit of
an assignment to a particular sense. Those sensations to
which we now refer, (if it be proper to use that term in
application to them,) appear to have their origin in the
human system considered as a w^hole, made up of bones,
flesh, muscles, the senses, &c., rather than to be suscep-
tible of being traced to any particular part. Of this de-
scription are the feelings expressed by the terms uneasi-
ness, weariness, weakness, sickness, and those of an op-
posite character, as ease, hilarity, healthy vigour, &g
Tl-E SENSE OF TOUCH. 46
Similar views will be found to apply, in part at least,
to the sensations which we express by the terms hunger
and THIRST. These appear to be complex in their nature,
including a feeling of uneasiness, combined with a desire
to relieve that uneasiness. When we say that these views
will apply in part to hunger and thirst, the design is to
limit the application of them to the element of uneasi^
riess. This elementary feeling undoubtedly has its origin
m the bodily system, and therefore comes in this case
under the general class of notions of an external origin ;
but still it is not easy to say that it should be arranged
with our tactual feelings, which has sometimes been done.
Every one must be conscious, it is thought, that the feel-
ing of hunger does not greatly resemble the sensations of
hardness and softness, roughness or smoothness, or other
sensations which are usually ascribed to the touch. —
The cause of that peculiar state of the nerves of the stom-
ach, which is antecedent to the uneasy feeling involved
in what is termed hung(?r, has been a subject of diifer-
ence of opinion, and does not appear to be well under-
stood. If we were fully acquainted with this we might
perhaps be less at a loss where to arrange the feeling in
question.
^ 32. Relation between the sensation and what is outwardly signified.
We here return a moment to the subject of the relation
between the internal sensation and the outward object ;
and again repeat, that the mental state and the corre-
sponding outward object are altogether diverse. This
view holds good in the case of the secondary, as well as
of the primary qualities of matter. Whether we speak of
extension, or resistance, or heat, or colour, or roughness,
there are, in all cases alike, two things, the internal affec-
tion and the outw^ard quality ; but they are utterly distinct,
totally without likeness to each other. But how it happens
that one thing which is totally different from another can
nevertheless give us a knowledge of that from which it
Tliffers, it would be a waste ofiitime to attempt to explain.
Our knowledge is undoubtedly limited to the mere fact.
This is one those of difficult but decisive points in
MENTAL PHILOSOPHY, of w^hich it is essential to possess a
46 THE SENSE OF SIGHT.
precise and correct understanding. The letters which
cover over the page of a book are a very different thing
from the thought and the combinations of thought which
they stand for. The accountant's columns of numerals are
not identical wit}i the quantities and their relations which
they represent. And so in regard to the mind ; all its
acts are of one kind, and what they stand for is of an-
other. The mind, in all its feelings and operations, is
governed by its own laws, and characterizes its efforts by
the essential elements of its own nature. Nothing which
is seen or heard, nothing which is the subject of taste, or
touch or any other sense, nothing material, which can be
imagined to exist in any place or in any form, can furnish
the least positive disclosure either of its intrinsic nature
or of the mode of its action.
What, then, is the relation between the sensation and
the outward object, between the perception and the thing
perceived ? Evidently that of the sign and the thing sig-
nified. And as, in a multitude of cases, the sign may
give a knowledge of its objects without any othei grounds
of such knowledge than mere institution or appointment,
so it is in this. The mind, maintaining its appropriate
action, and utterly rejecting the intervention of all images
and visible representations, except what are outward and
material, and totally distinct from itself both in place and
nature, is, notwithstanding, susceptible of the knowledge
of things exterior, and can form an acquaintance with the
universe of matter.
CHAPTER VI.
THE SENSE OF SIGHT.
^ 33. Of the organ of sight, and the uses or benefits of that sense.
Of those instruments of external perception with which
a benevolent Providence has favoured us, a high rank
must be given to the sense of seeing. If we were re-
stricted in the process of acquiring knowledge to the in-
formations of the touch merely, how many embarrassments
THE SENSE OF SIGHT 47
would attend our progress, and how slow it would prove!
Having never possessed sight, it would be many years
before the most acute and active person could form an
idea of a mountain or even of a large edifice. But by
the additional help of the sense of seeing, he not only
observes the figure of large buildings, but is in a moment
possessed of all the beauties of a wide and variegated
landscape.
The organ of this sense is the eye. On a slight ex-
amination, the eye is found to be a sort of telescope, hav-
ing its distinct parts, and discovering throughout the most
exquisite construction. The medium on which this organ
acts are rays of light, everywhere diffused, and always
advancing, if they meet with no opposition, in direct
lines. The eye, like all the other senses, not only receives
externally the medium on which it acts,- but carries the
rays of light into itself ; and on principles purely scien-
tific, refracts and combines them anew.
It does not, however, fall within our plan to give a mi-
nute, description of the eye, which belongs rather to the
physiologist; (but such a description, with the statement
of the uses of the different parts of the organ, must be, to
a candid and reflecting mind, a most powerful argument
in proof of the existence and goodness of the Supreme
Being,} How wonderful, among other tlnngs, is the
adaptation of the rays of light to the eye ! If these rays
were not of a texture extremely small, they would cause
much pain to the organ of vision, into which they so
rapidly pass. If they were not capable of exciting
within us the sensations of colour, we should be deprived
of much of that high satisfaction which we now take in
beholding surrounding objects ; showing forth, wherever
they are to be found, the greatest variety and the utmost
richness of tints.
^ 34. Statement of the mode or process in visual perception.
In the process of vision, the rays of light, coming from
various objects and in variouif directions, strike in the first
place on the pellucid or transparent part of the ball of
the eye.
If they were to continue passing on precisely in the
48 THE SENSE OF SIGHT.
same direction, they would produce merely one mingled
and indistinct expanse of colour. In their progress, how-
ever, through the crystalline humour, they are refracted
or bent from their former direction, and are distributed to
certain focal points on the retina, which is a white, fibrous
expansion of the optic nerve.
•The rays of light, coming from objects in the field of
vision, whether it be more or less extensive, as soon as
■they have been distributed on their distinct portions of the
retina, and have formed an image there, are immediately
followed by the sensation or perception which is termed
sight. The image which is thus pictured on the retina
is the last step which we are able to designate m the ma-
terial part of the process in visual perception ; the men-
tal state follows ; but it is not in our power to trace, even
in the smallest degree, any physical connexion between
the optical image and the corresponding state of the
mind. — All that we can say in this case is, that we sup-
pose them to hold to each other the relation of antecedent
and consequent by an ultimate law of our constitution.
^ 35. Of the original and acquired perceptions of sight.
In speaking of those sensations and perceptions, the
origin of which is generally attributed to the sense of
sight, it is necessary to make a distinction between those
which are original and those which are acquired. No-
thing is properly original with the sense of sight but the
sensations of -colour, such as red, blue, yellow. These
sensations (or perceptions, as they are otherwise called,
when the internal feeling is combined with a reference to
the external cause) are exceedingly numerous. In this
respect, the intimations of the sense of sight stand on the
same footing with those of taste and hearing ; although
distinctive names, in consequence of the difficulty of ac-
curately separating and drawing the line between each,
are given only in a few cases. All the sensations of
colour are original with the sight, and are not to be as-
cribed to any other sense.
A part, however, of that knowledge, which we attrib-
ute to the sight, and which has the appearance of being
immediate and original in that sense, is not so. Some of
THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 49
its alleged perceptions are properly the results of sensa-
tions, combined not only with the usual reference to an
external cause, but with various other acts of the judg-
ment. In some cases the combination of the acts of the
judgment with the visual sensation is carried so far, that
there is a sort of transfer to the sight of the knowledge
which has been obtained from som^e other source. And
not unfrequently, in consequence of a long and tenacious
association, we are apt to look upon the knowledge thus
acquired as truly original in the seeing power. This will
suffice, perhaps, as a statement of the general fact, while
the brief examination of a few instances will help to the
more thorough understanding of those acquired percep-
tions of the sight which are here referred to.
4 36. The idea of extension not originally from sight.
It is well known that there is nothing more common
than for a person to say, that he sees the length or breadth
of any external object ; that he sees its extent, &c. These
expressions appear to imply (and undoubtedly are so un-
derstood) that extension is a direct object of sight. There
is no question that such is the common sentiment, viz.,
that the outlines and surface which bodies permanently
expand and present to the view, are truly seen. An
opinion different from this might even incur the charge
of great absurdity.
But, properly, the notion of extension, as we have al-
ready seen, has its origin in the sense of touch. Being a
simple and elementary thought, it is not susceptible of
definition ; nor, when we consider extension as existing
outwardly and materially, can we make it a matter of
description without running into the confusion of using
synonymous words. But, wdiatever it is, (and certamly
there can be neither ignorance nor disagreement on that
point, however much language may fail of conveying our
ideas,) the knowledge of it is not to be ascribed original-
Jy to the sight.
The notion of extension i^closely connected with ex-
ternality. It is not possible to form the idea of extension
from mere consciousness, or a reflection on what takes
place within us. But making a muscular effort, and thus
60 THE SENSE OF SIGHT.
applying the touch to some resisting body, we first have
the notion of outness ; and either from the same apphca-
tion of that sense, or when we have repeated it continu-
ously on the same surface, we have the additional notion
of its being extended or spread out. If a man were
fixed immoveably in one place, capable of smelling, tast-
ing, hearing, and seeing, but w^ithout tactual impressions
originating from a resisting body, he w^ould never possess
a knowledge of either. Having first gained that knowl-
edge fi-om the touch in the way just mentioned, he learns
m time what appearance extended bodies (which are, of
course, coloured bodies) make to the eye. At a very
early period, having ascertained that all coloured bodies
are spread out or extended, he invariably associates the
idea of extension with that coloured appearance. Hence
he virtually and practically transfers the knowledge ob-
tained by one sense to another ; and even after a time
imagines extension to be a direct object of sight, when,
in fact, what is seen is only a sign of it, and merely sug-
gests it. An affection of the sense of touch is the true
and original occasion of the origin of this notion ; and it
becomes an idea of sight only by acquisition or transfer-
ence.
<) 37. Of the knowledge of the figure of bodies by the sight.
Views similar to those w^hich have been already ad-
vanced will evidently apply to the figure of bodies. We
acquire a knowledge of the figure or form of bodies
originally by the sense of touch. But it cannot be doubt-
ed that this knowledge is often confidently attributed to
the sense of sight as well as the touch. Although there
is reason to believe that men labour under a mistake in
this, it is not strange, when we trace back our mental
history to its earlier periods, that such a misapprehension,
should exist.
A solid body presents to the eye nothing but a certain
disposition of colours and light. We may imagine our-
selves to see the prominences or cavities in such bodies,
when in truth we only see the light or the shade occa-
sioned by them. This light and shade, however, we
learn by experience to consider as the sign of f^ certain
THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 63
&olid figure. — A proof of the truth of this statement is,
that a painter, by carefully imitating the distribution of
light and shade which he sees in objects, mil make his
work very naturally and exactly represent, not only the »
general outline of a body, but its prominences, depres-
sions, and other irregularities. And yet his delineation,
which, by the distribution of light and shade, gives such*
various representations, is on a smooth and plain surface
<J 38. Illustration of the subject from the blind. ,
It was a problem submitted by Mr. Molyncux to Mr.
Locke, whether a blind man, who has learned the differ-
ence between a cube and a sphere by the touch, can, on
being suddenly restored to sight, distinguish between
them, and tell which is the sphere and which is the cube,
by the aid of w^hat may be called his new sense merely 1
And the answer of Mr. Locke was, in agreement with the
opinion of Molyneux himself, that he cannot. The blind
man knows what inaf)rcssions the cube and sphere make
on the organ of touch, and by that sense is able to dis-
tinguish between them ; but, as he is ignorant what im-
pression they will make on the organ of sight, he is not
able, by the latter sense alone, to tell which is the round
body and which is the cubic.
It was remarked that solid bodies present to the eye
nothing but a certain disposition of light and colours. — It
seems to follow from this, that the first idea which will be
conveyed to the mind on seeing a globe, will be that of
a circle variously shadow^ed with different degrees of
light. This imperfect idea is corrected in this way.
Combining the suggestions of the sense of touch with
those of sight, we learn by greater experience what kind
of appearance solid, convex bodies will make to us. That
appearance becomes to the mind the sign of the presence
ol a globe ; so that we have an idea of a round body by
a very rapid mental correction, whereas the notion first
conveyed to the mind is truly that of a plane, circular
Surface, on which there is a vmriety in the dispositions of
light and shade. It is an evidence of the correctness of
this statement, that in paintings, plane surfaces, variously
shaded, represent convex bodies, and with great truth and
exactness.
sat THE SENSt OF SIGHT.
It appeals, then, that extension and figure are originally
perceived, not by sight, but by touch. We do not judge
of them by sight until we have learned by our experi
, ence that certain visible appearances always accompany
and sjgnify the existence of extension and of figure. This
knowledge we acquire at a very early period in life ; so
much so, that we lose, in a great measure, the memory
both of its commencement ana progress.
^ 39. Measurements of magnitude by the eye.
What has been said naturally leads us to the consid-
eration of MAGNITUDE. This IS a general term for Exten-
sion, w^hen we conceive of it not only as limited or bound-
ed, but as related to, and compared with, other objects.
Although we make use of the eye in judging of it, it is to
be kept in mind that the knowledge of magnitude is not
an original intimation of the sight, but is at first acquired
by the aid of touch. So well known is this, that it has
been common to consider Magnitude under the two heads
of tangible or real, and visible or apparent ; the tangible
magnitude being always the same, but the visible varying
with the distance of the object. A man of six feet stature
is always that height, whether he be a mile distant, or
half a mile, or near at hand ; the change of place making
no change in his real or tangible magnitude. But the
visible or apparent magnitude of this man may be six feet
or two feet, as we view him present with us and immedi-
ately in our neighbourhood, or at two miles' distance ; for
his magnitude appears to our eye greater or less, accord-
ing as he is more or less removed.
In support of the doctrine that the knowledge of mag-
nitude is not an original intimation of the sight, but is at
first acquired by thci aid of touch, we may remark, that,
m judging of magnitude by the sight, we are much influ-
enced, not merely by the visual perception, but particu-
larly by comparison with other objects, the size of which
is known or supposed to be known. " I remember once,"
says Ur. Abercrombie (Intellectual Powers, pt. ii., sect, i.),
" having occasion to pass along Ludgate Hill when the
great door of St. Paul's was open, and several persons
were standing in it. They appeared to be very little
THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 53
children ; but, on coming up to them, were found to be
full-grown persons. In the mental process which here
took place, the door had been assumed as a known mag*
nitude, and the other objects judged of by it. Had I at
tended to the door being much larger than any door thr
one is in the habit of seeing, the mind would have made
allowance for the apparent size of the persons ; and, on
the other hand, had these been known to be full-grown
persons, a judgment would have been formed of the size
of the door."
^ 40. Of objects seen in a mist.
In accordance with the above-mentioned principle, '•;
happens that objects seen by a person in a mist seen,
larger than life. Their faint appearance rapidly convev>
to the mind the idea of being considerably removed, al-
though they are actually near to us. And the mind hn-
mediately draws the conclusion, (so rapidly as to seem £
simple and original perception,) that the object having
the same visible or apparent magnitude, and yet supposes"
to be at a considerable distance, is greater than other ob -
jects of the same class. So that it is chiefly the view o:
the mind, a law or habit of the intellect^ which, in thj
particular case, gives a fictitious expansion to bodies
although it is possfcle that the result may in part be at
tributed to a diiference in the refraction of the rays O:
light, caused by their passing through a denser and les;-
uniform medium than usual.
6 41. Of the sun and moon when seen in the horizon.
These remarks naturally remind us of the well-knowr
fact, that the sun and moon seem larger in the horizon
than in the meridian. Three reasons may be given for this
appearance; and perhaps ordinarily they are combined
together. — ( 1.) The horizon may seem more distant than
the zenith, m consequence of intervening objects. We
measure the distance of objects in part by means of those
that are scattered along beti^^een, and any expanse of
surface, where there are no such intervening objects, ap-
pears to us of less extent than it actuaUy is. Now if the
rays of light form precisely the same image in the eye,
E 2
54 THE SENSE OF SIGHT.
but the source of them is supposed to be further off in the
horizon than in the zenith, such have been our mental
habits, that the object in the horizon will probably appear
the largest. — (2.) Another reason of the enlarged ap-
pearance of the sun and moonjn the horizon is, that the
rays from them fall on the body of the atmosphere ob-
liquely, and, of course, are reflected downward towards
the beholder, and subtend a larger angle at his eye.
Hence, as we always see objects in the direction of the
ray just before it enters the eye, if we follow the rays
back in the precise direction of their approach, they wdll
present to the eye the outlines of a larger object as their
source than they would if they had not been refracted • —
Also, when the atmosphere is not clear, but masses of »ra-
pour exist in it, the refraction is increased and the object
proportionally enlarged. — (3.) The sun and mcjn ap-
pear enlarged when other objects of considerable dimen-
sions, but so distant as to subtend a very small inigle at
the eye, are seen in the same direction or in the moment
of passing their disk, such as distant trees in the hori-
zon, or ships far off at sea. These objects, [hough small
in the eye or in their visual appearance, arc yet, in con-
sequence of our previous knowledge, enlarged in our
conceptions of them. And this conceptive enlargement
communicates itself, by a sort of mental illusion, to oth-
er objects with which they seem to come in contact.
^ 42. Of the estimation of distances by sight.
We are next led to the consideration of distances as
made known and ascertained by the sight. By the dis-
tance of objects, when we use the term in reference to
ourselves, we mean the space which is interposed between
those objects and our own position. It might be object-
ed, that space interposed is only a synonymous expression
for the thing to be defined. Nevertheless, no one can be
supposed to be ignorant of what is meant. Even blind
men have a notion of distance, and can measure it by the
touch, or by walking forward until they meet the distant
object.
The perception of distance by the sight is an acquired
and not an original perception ; although the latter was
universally supposed to be the fact until comparatively a
recent period
THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 55
All o])jects in the first instance appear to touch the
eye ; but our experience has corrected so many of the
representations of the senses, before the period which we
are yet able to retrace by the memory, that we cannot
prove this by a reference to our own childhood and infan-
cy. It appears, however, from the statement of the ra-
ses of persons born blind on the sudden restoration of
their sight. — " When he first saw," says Cheselden, the
anatomist, when giving an account of a young man whom
he had restored to sight by couching for the cataract, " he
was so far from making any judgment about distance,
that he thought all objects touched his eye, as he express-
ed it, as what he felt did his skin ; and thought no ob-
jects so agreeable as those which were smooth and regu-
lar, although he could form no judgment of their shape,
or guess what it w^as in any object that was pleasing 4o'
him."
This anatomist has further informed us, that he has
brought to sight several others who had no remembrance
of ever having seen ; and that they all gave the same ac-
count of their learning to see, as they called it, as the
young man already mentioned, although not in so many
particulars ; and that they all had this in common, that,
having never had occasion to move their eyes, they kne\^
not how to do it, and, at first, could not at all direct them
to a particular object ; but in time they acquired that fac-
ulty, though by slow degrees.
^ 43. Signs by means of which we estimate distance by sight.
Blind persons, w^hen at first restored to sight, are un-
able to estimate the distance of objects by that sense, but
soon observing that certain changes in the visible appear-
ance of bodies always accompany a change of distance,
they fall upon a method of estimating distance by the vis-
ible appearance. And it would no doubt be found, if it
could be particularly examined into, that all mankind
come to possess the power of estimating the distances of
objecty by sight in the sam» way. When a body is re-
moved from us and placed at a considerable distance, it
becomes smaller in its visible appearance, its colours are
less lively, and its outlines less distinct ; and we may ex-
56 THE SENSE OF SIGHT.
pect to find various intermediate objects, more or fewer
in number, corresponding with the increase of the dis-
tance, showing themselves between the receding object
and the spectator. And hence it is, that a certain visible
appearance comes to be the sign of a certain distance.
Historical and landscape painters are enabled to turn
these facts to great account in their delineations. By
means of dimness of colour, indistinctness of outline, and
the partial interposition of other objects, they are enabled
apparently to throw back to a very considerable distance
from the eye those objects which they wish to appear re-
mote. While other objects, that are intended to appear
near, are painted vivid in colour, large in size, distinct in
outline, and are separated from the eye of the spectator
by few or no intermediate objects.
^ 44. Estimation of distance when unaided by intermediate objects.
(1.) As we depend, in no small degree, upon interme-
diate objects in forming our notions of distance, it results,
that we are often much perplexed by the absence of such
objects. Accordingly, we find that people frequently mis-
take, when they attempt to estimate by the eye the length
or width of unoccupied plains and marshes, generally
making the extent less than it really is. For the same
reason they misjudge of the width of a river, estimating
its width at half or three quarters of a mile at the most,
when it is perhaps not less than double that distance.
The same holds true of other bodies of water ; and of
all other things which are seen by us in a horizontal po-
sition and under similar circumstances.
(2.) We mistake in the same way also in estimating
the height T)f steeples, and of other bodies that are per-
pendicular, and not on a level with the eye, provided
the height be considerable. As the upper parts of the
steeple out-top the surrounding buildings, and there are
no contiguous objects with which to compare it, any
measurement taken by the eye must be inaccurate, but
is generally less than the truth.
(3) The fixed stars, when viewed by the eye, all ap-
pear to be alike indefinitely and equally distant. Being
scattered over the whole sky, tliey make every part of it
THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 57
seem, liko tliemselves, at an indefinite and equal distance,
and therefore contribute to give the whole sky the ap-
pearance of the inside of a sphere. Moreover, the hori-
zon seems to the eye to be further off than the zenith ;
because between us and the former there lie many things,
as fields, hills, and waters, which we know to occupy a
great space ; whereas between us and the zenith there
are no considerable things of known dimensions. And,
therefore, the heavens appear like the segment of a
sphere, and less than a hemisphere, in the centre of
which we seem to stand. — And the wider our prospect
is, the greater will the sphere appear to be, and the less
the segment.
^45. Of objects seen on the ocean, &c.
A vessel seen at sea by a person who is not accustom-
ed to the ocean, appears much nearer than it actually is ;
and on the same principles as already illustrated. In his
previous observations of the objects at a distance, he has
commonly neticed a number of intermediate objects, in-
terposed between the distant body and himself. It is prob-
ably the absence of such objects that chiefly causes the
deception under which he labours in the present instance.
In connexion with what has been said, we are led to
make this further remark, that a change in the purity of
the air will perplex in some measure those ideas of dis-
tance which we receive from sight. Bishop Berkeley re-
marks, while travelling in Italy and Sicily, he noticed
that cities and palaces seen at a great distance appeared
nearer to him by several miles than they actually were.
The cause of this he very correctly supposed to be the
purity of the Italian and Sicilian air, which gave to ob-
jects at a distance a degree of brightness and distinct-
ness which, in the less clear and pure atmosphere of his
native country, could be observed only in those towns and
separate edifices which were near. At home he had
learned to estimate the distances of objects by their ap-
'pearance ; but his conclusions failed him when they
came to be applied to objects in countries where the air
was so much clearer. — And the same thing has been no-
ticed by other travellers, who have been placed in the
like circumstances.
68 HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
CHAPTER Vn.
HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
^ 46. General view of the law of habit and of its applications.
There is an important law of the mental constitution
known as the law of Habit, which may be described in
general terms as follows : That the mental action acquires
facility and strength from repetition or practice. The
fact that the facility and the increase of strength, implied
in HABIT, is owing to mere repetition, or what is more fre-
quently termed practice, we learn, as w^e do other facts
and principles in relation to the mind, from the observa-
tion of men around us, and from our own personal expe-
rience. And as it has hitherto been found impracticable
to resolve it into any general fact or principle more ele-
mentary, it may justly be regarded as something ultimate
and essential in our nature.
The term Habit, by the use of language, indicates the
facility and strength acquired in the way which has been
mentioned, including both the result and the manner of
it. As the law of habit has reference to the whole mind
of man, the application of the term which expresses it is,
of course, veij extensive. We apply it to the dexterity
of workmen in the different manual arts, to the rapidity of
the accountant, to the coup d'oeil or eye-glance of the
military engineer, to the tact and fluency of the extempo-
raneous speaker, and in other like instances. — We apply it
also in cases where the mere exercise of emotion and de-
sire is concerned ; to the avaricious man's lovte of wealth,
the ambitious man's passion for distinction, the wakeful
suspiciwis of the jealous, and the confirmed and substan-
tial benevolence of the philanthropist.
^ 47. The law of habit applicable to the mind as well ag, the body.
It is remarkable, that the law under consideration holds
good in res-oect to the body as well as the mind. In the
mechanicaJ arts, and in all cases where there is a corpo-
HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 59
rea. as well as mental eifort, the effect of practice will
be found to extend to both. Not only the acts of the
mincL^re quickened and strengthened, but all those mus-
cles which are at such times employed, become stronger
and more obedient to the will. Indeed, the submission
of the muscular effort to the volition is oftentimes render-
ed so prompt by habit, that we are unable distinctly to
recollect any exercise of volition previous to the active
or muscular exertion. It is habit which is the basis
of those characteristic peculiarities that distinguish one
man's handwriting from another's; it is habit which
causes that peculiarity of attitude and motion so easily
discoverable in most persons^ termed their gait ; it is habit
also which has impressed on the muscles, immediately
connected with the organs of speech, that fixed and pre-
cise form of action, which, in different individuals, gives
rise, in part at least, to characteristics of voice. The
habit, in the cases just mentioned, is both bodily and men-
tal, and has become so strong, that it is hardly possible
to counteract it for any length of time. — The great law
of Habit is applicable to all the leading divisions of our
mental nature, the Intellect, the Sensibilities, and the
Will ; and as we advance from one view of the mind to
another, we shall have repeated occasion to notice its in-
fluence. In the remainder of this chapter we shall limit
our remarks to Habit, considered in connexion with the
Sensations and Perceptions.
^ 4S. Of habit in relation to the smell.
We shall consider the application of the principle ol
Habit to the senses in the same order which has already
been observed. In the first place, there are habits of
Smell. — This sense, like the others, is susceptible of cul-
tivation. As there are some persons whose power of
distinguishing the difference of tw^o or more colours is
feeble ; so there are some who are doubtful and perplex-
ed in like manner in the discrimination <of odours. And
as the inability may be overocme in some measure in the
former case, so it may be irt the latter. The fact that
the powers of which the smell is capable are not more
frequently brought out and quickened, is owing to the
60 HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCKPTION
circumstance that it is not ordinarily needed. It some-
times happens, however, that men are compelled to make
an uncommon use of it, when, by a defect in tho, other
senses, they are left without the ordinary helps to knowl-
edge. It is then we see the effects of the law of Habit
It is stated in Mr. Stewart's account of James Mitchell,
who was deaf, sightless, and speechless, and, of course,
strongly induced by his unfortunate situation to make
much use of the sense we are considering, that his smell
would immediately and invariably inform him of the pres-
ence of a stranger, and direct to the place where he
might be ; and it is repeatedly asserted, that this sense
had become in him extremely acute. — " It is related,"
says Dr. Abercrombie, " of the late Dr. Moyse, the well-
known blind philosopher, that he could distinguish a
black dress on his friends by its smell."
In an interesting account of a deaf, dumb, and blind
girl in the Hartford Asylum, recently published, state-
ments are made on this subject of a similar purport. —
" It has been observed," says the writer, " of persons
who are deprived of a particular sense, that additional
quickness or vigour seems to be bestowed on those w^hich
remain. Thus blind persons are often distinguished by
peculiar exquisiteness of touch ; and the deaf and dumb,
who gain all their knowledge through the eye, concen-
trate, as it were, their whole souls in that channel of ob-
servation. With her whose eye, ear, and tongue are
alike dead, the capabilities both of touch and smell are
exceedingly heightened. Especially the latter seems al-
most to have acquired the properties' of a new sense, and
to transcend the sagacity even of a spaniel." — Such is
the influence of habit on the intimations of the sense
under consideration.
^ 49. Of habit in relation to the taste.
The same law is applicable to the Taste. We see the
results of the frequent exercise of this sense in the quick-
ness which the dealer in wines discovers in distinguish-
ing the flavour of one wine from that of another. So
marked are the results in cases of this kind, that one is
almo6't disposed to credit the story which Cervantes re-
HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 6]
lates of two persons, who were re"quested to pass their
judgment upon a hogshead which was supposed to be
very old and excellent. One of them tasted the wine,
and pronounced it to be very good, with the exception of
a slight taste of leather which he perceived m it. The
other, after mature reflection and examination, pronoun-
ced the same favourable verdict, with the exception of a
taste of iron, which he could easily distinguish. On
emptying the hogshead, there was found at the bottom an
old key with a leathern thong tied to it.
Another practical view of this subject, however, pre-
sents itself here. The sensations which we experience
in this and other like cases, not only acquire by repeti-
tion greater niceness and discrimination, but increased
strength ; (and perhaps the increased strength is in all in-
stances the foundation of the greater power of discrimi-
nation.) On this topic w^e have a wide and melancholy
source of illustration. The bibber of wine and the drink-
er of ardent spirits readily acknowledge, that the sensa-
tion w^as at first only moderately pleasing, and perhaps
in the very slightest degree. Every time they carried the
intoxicating potion to their lips, the sensation grew more
pleasing, and the desire for it waxed stronger. Perhaps
they were not aware that this process w^as going on in
virtue of a great law of humanity ; but they do not pre-
tend to deny the fact. They might, indeed, have suspect-
ed at an early period that chains were gathering around
them, whatever might be the cause ; but what objection
had they to be bound with hnks of flowers; delightful
while they lasted, and easily broken when necessary !
But here was the mistake. Link was added to link;
chain w^as woven with chain, till he who boasted of his
strength was at last made sensible of his w^eakness, and
found himself a prisoner, a captive, a deformed, altered,
and degraded slave.
There is a threefold operation. The sensation of taste
Requires an enhanced degree of pleasantness ; the feeling
of uneasiness is increased iif a corresponding measure
when the sensation is not indulged by drinking ; and the
desire, which is necessarily attendant on the uneasy feel-
ing, becomes in like manner more and more imperative.
F
62 HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
To alleviate the uneasy feeling and this importunate de-
sire, the unhappy man goes again to his cups, and with
a shaking hand pours down the delicious poison. What
then ? He has added a new link to his chain ; at every
repetition it grows heavier and heavier, till that, which at
first he bore lightly and cheerfully, now presses him like
a coat of iron, and galls like fetters of steel. There is a
great and fearful law of his nature bearing him down to
destruction. Every indulgence is the addition of a new
weight to what was before placed upon him, thus less-
ening the probability of escape, and accelerating his
gloomy, fearful, and interminable sinking. We do not
mean to say that he is the subject of an implacable des-
tiny, and cannot help himself But it would seem that
he can help himself only in this way ; by a prompt, ab-
solute, and entire suspension of the practice in all its
forms, which has led him into this extremity. But few,
however, have the resoluti.on to do this ; the multitude
make a few unwilling and feeble efforts, and it:^sign them-
selves to the horrors of their fate.
(} 50. Of habit in relation to the hearing.
There is undoubtedly a natural difference in the quick-
ness and discrimination of hearing. This sense is more
acute in some than in others ; but in those who possess
it in much natural excellence, it is susceptible of a high
degree of cultivation. Musicians are a proof of this,
whose sensibility to the melody and concord of sweet
sounds continually increases with the practice of their art.
The increase of sensibility in the perceptions of hear-
ing is especially marked and evident, when uncommon
causes have operated to secure such practice. And this is
the state of things with the Blind. The readers of Sir
Walter Scott may not have forgotten the blind fiddler,
who figures so conspicuously with verse and harp in Red
Gauntlet; a character sufficiently extraordinary, but by
no means an improbable exaggeration. The blind neces-
sarily rely much more than others on the sense of hear-
ing. By constant practice they increase the accuracy
and power of its perceptions. Shut out from the beau-
tit5 J hat are seen, they please themselves with what is
HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 63
heard, and greedily drink in the melodies of song. Ac-
cordingly, music is made by them not only a solace,
but a business and a means of support ; and in the In-
stitutions for the Blind this is considered an important
department of instruction.
Many particular instances on record, and well authen-
ticated, confirm the general statement, that the ear may
be trained to habits, and that thus the sensations of sound
may come to us with new power and meaning. It is re-
lated of a celebrated blind man of Puiseaux in France,
that he could determine the quantity of fluid in vessels by
the sound it produced while running from one vessel into
another. " Dr. Rush," as the statement is given in Aber-
crombie's Intellectual Powers, "relates of two blind young
men, brothers, of the city of Philadelphia, that they knew
when they approached a post in walking across a street
by a peculiar sound which the ground under their feet
emitted in the neighbourhood of the post ; and that they
could tell the names of a number of tame pigeons, with
which they amused themselves in a little garden, by only
hearing them fly over their heads." Dr. Saunderson,
who became blind so early as not to remember having
seen, when happening in any new^ place, as a room, pi-
azza, pavement, court, and the like, gave it a character by
means of the sound and echo from his feet ; and in that
way was able to identify pretty exactly the place, and
assure himself of his position afterward. A wri'ter in the
First Volume of the Manchester Philosophical Memoirs,
who is our authority also for the statement just made,
speaks of a certain blind man in that city as follows : " 1 .
had an opportunity of repeatedly observing the peculiar
manner in which he arranged his ideas and acquired his
information. Whenever he was introduced into compa-
ny, I remarked that he continued some time silent. The
sound directed him to judge of the dimensions of the
room, and the different voices of the number of persons
tiiat were present. His distinction in these respects was
very accurate, and his memoty so retentive that he was
seldom mistaken. I have known him instantly recognise
a person on first hearing him, though more than two years
had elapsed since the time of their last meeting. He
64 HABirS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
determined pretty nearly the stature of those he was con-
versing with by the direction of their voices; and he
made tolerable conjectures respecting their tempers and
dispositions by the manner in which they conducted their
conversation "
^51. Application of habit to the touch.
The sense of touch, like the others, may be exceedingly
improved by habit. The more we are obliged to call it
into use, the more attention we pay to its intimations. By
the frequent repetition, therefore, under such circumstan-
ces, these sensations not only acquire increased intense-
ness in themselves, but particularly so in reference to our
notice and remembrance of them. But it is desirable to
confirm this, as it is all other principles from time to time
laid down, by an appeal to facts, and by careful induc-
tions from them.
Diderot relates of the blind man of Puiseaux, mention
ed in a former section, that he was capable of judging of
his distance from the fireplace by the degree of heat, and
of his approach to any solid bodies by the action or pulse
of the air upon his face. The same thing is recorded of
many other persons in a similar situation ; and it may be
regarded as a point well established, that blind people
who are unable to see the large and heavy bodies pre-
senting themselves in their way as they Avalk about, gen-
erally estimate their approach to them by the increased
resistance of the atmosphere. A blind person, owing to
the increased accuracy of his remaining senses, especially
of the touch, would be better trusted to go through the
various apartments of a house in the darkness of midnight,
than one possessed of the sense of seeing without any ar-
tificial light to guide him.
In the celebrated Dr. Saunderson, who lost his sight in
very early youth, and remained blind through life, al-
though he occupied the professorship of mathematics in
the English University of Cambridge, the touch acquired
such acuteness that he could distinguish, by merely let*
ting them pass through his fingers, spurious coins, which
were so well executed as to deceive even skilful judges
who could see.*
♦ Memoirs of the Manchester Philosophical Society, vol. i., p. 164..
HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 66
The case of a Mr. John Metcalf, otherwise caHcd Bhnd
Jack, which is particuhirly dwelt upon by the author of
the Article in the Memoirs just referred to, is a striking
one. The writer states that he became blind at an early
period ; but, notwithstanding, followed the profession of
a wagoner, and occasionally of a guide in intricate roads'
during the night, or when the tracks were covered with
snow. At length he became a projector and surveyor of
highways in difficult and mountainous districts ; an em-
ployment for which one would naturally suppose a blind
man to be but indifferently qualified. But he was found '
to answer all the expectations of his employers, and most
of the roads over the Peak in Derbyshire, in England,
were altered by his directions. Says the person who
gives this account of Blind Jack, " I have several times
met this man, with the assistance of a long staff, traversing
the roads, ascending precipices, exploring valleys, and
investigating their several extents, forms, and situations,
50 as to answer his designs in the best manner."
In the interesting Schools for the Blind which have
recently been established in various parts of the world,
the pupils reapd by means of the fingers. They very soon
learn by the touch to distinguish one letter from another,
which are made separately for that purpose of wood,
metals, or other hard materials. The printed sheets
which they use are conformed to their method of study-
ing them. The types are much larger than those ordina-
rily used in printing ; the paper is very thick, and being
put upon the types while wet, and powerfully pressed,
the letters on it are consequently raised, and appear in
rehef. The pupils having before learned to distinguish
one letter from another, and also to combine them into
syllables and words, are able after a time to pass their
fingers along the words and sentences of these printed
sheets, and ascertain their meaning, with a good degree
ui rapidity.
^ 52. Other striking instances of habits of touch.
The power of the touch will increase in proportion to
the necessity of a reliance on it. The more frequent the
resort to it, the stronger will be the habit ; but the neces-
F2
66 HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
sity c : his frequent reference to it will be found to be
peculiarly great where a person is deprived of two of his
other senses. It is noticed of James Mitchell, whose case
has been already referred to, that he distinguished such
ai'ticles as belonged to himself from the property of others
by this sense. Although the articles were of the same
form and materials with those of others, it would seem
that he was not at a loss in identifying what was his own.
It will be recollected that he could neither see nor hear,
and was, of course, speechless. He was obliged, there-
fore, to depend chiefly on the touch. This sense was the
principal instrument he made use of in forming an ac-
quaintance with the strangers w^ho frequently visited him.
And what is particularly remarkable, he actually explored
by it, at an early period, a space round his father's resi-
dence of about tw^o hundred yards in extent, to any part
of which he was in the practice of walking fearlessly and
without a guide, whenever he pleased.
It is related of the deaf and blind girl in the Hartford
Asylum, that it is impossible to displace a single article
in her drawers without her perceiving and knowing it ;
and that, when the baskets of linen are weekly brought
from the laundress, she selects her own garments without
hesitation, however widely they may be dispersed among
the mass. This is probably owing, at least in great part,
to habits of touch, by means of which the sense is render-
ed exceedingly acute. — Diderot has even gone so far as
to conjecture that persons deprived of both sight and
hearing would so increase the sensibility of touch as to
locate the seat of the soul in the tips of the fingers.
^ 5',i. Habits considered in relation to the sight.
The law of habit affects the sight also. By a course
of training this sense seems to acquire new power. The
length and acuteness of vision in the mariner who has
long traversed the ocean has been frequently referred to.
— A writer in the North American Review (July, 1833)
says, he once " knew a man, in the Greek island of Hy-
dra, who was accustomed to take his post every day for
thirty years on the summit of the island, and look out for
the approach of vessels ; and although there were over
HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 67
tnree hundred sail belonging to the island, he would tell
the name of each one as she approached with unerring
certainty, while she was still at such a distance as to pre-
sent to a common eve only a confused white blur upon
the clear horizon." There are numerous instances to the
same effect, occasioned by the situations in which men
are placed, and the calls lor the frequent exercise of the
sight. The almost intuitive vision of the skilful engineer
is, beyond doubt, in most cases merely a habit. He has
so often fixed his eye upon those features in a country
which have a relation to his peculiar calling, that he in-
stantly detects the bearing of a military position, its sus-
ceptibility of defence, its facilities of approach and re-
treat, &c.
No man is born without the sense of touch, but many
are born w^ithout the sense of hearing ; and, wherever this
is the case, we are entitled to look for habits of sight.
Persons under such circumstances naturally and necessa-
rily rely much on the visual sense, whatever aids may be
had by them from the touch. Hence habits ; "und these
imply increased quickness and power, wherever they ex-
ist. It is a matter of common remark, that the keenness
of visual observation in the deaf and dumb is strikingly
increased by their peculiar circumstances. Shut out from
the intercourse of speech, they read the minds of men in
their movements, gestures, and countenances. They no-
tice w^ith astonishing quickness, and apparently without
any effort, a thousand things which escape the regards of
others. This fact is undoubtedly the foundation of the
chief encouragement which men have to attempt the in-
struction of that numerous and unfortunate class of their
fellow-beings. They can form an opinion of what an-
other says to them by the motion of the lips ; and some-
times even with a great degree of accuracy. That this last,
however, is common, it is not necessary to assert; that it
is possible, v^^e have the testimony of well-authenticated
•facts. In one of his letters, gishop Burnet mentions to
this effect the case of a young lady at Geneva. — " At
two years old," he says, " it was perceived that she had
lost her hearing, and ever since, though she hears great
noises, yet hears nothing of what is said to her ; but, by
68 HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
observing the motion of the lips and mouths of others,
ihe acquired so many words, that out of these she has
formed a sort of jargon in which she can hold conversa-
tion whole days with those who can speak her language.
She knows nothing of what is said to her, unless she sees
the motion of their lips that speak to her ; One thing will
appear the strangest part of the whole narrative. She
has a sister with whom she has practised her language
more than with anybody else, and in the night, by laying
her hand on her sister's mouth, she can perceive by that
what she says, and so can discourse with her in the dark."
(London Quarterly Review, vol. xxiv, p. 399.)
Such are the views which have been opened to us in
considering the law of habit in connexion with the sen-
ses ; and we may venture to say with confidence, that
they are exceedingly worthy of notice. There are two
suggestions which they are especially fitted to call up.
They evince the striking powers of the human mind, its
irrepressible energies, which no obstacles can bear down.
They evince also the benevolence of our Creator, who
opens in the hour of misery new sources of comfort, and
compensates for what we have not, by increasing the
power and value of what we have.
^ 54. Sensations may possess a relative, as well as positive increase of
power.
There remains a remark < )f some importance to be made
in connexion with the general principle which has been
brought forward, and as in some measure auxiliary to it;
for it will help to explain the more striking instances of
habits, if any should imagine that the fact of mere repe-
tition is not sufficient to account for them. Our sensa-
tions and perceptions may acquire not only a direct and
positive, but a relative and virtual increase of power.
This remark is thus explained. We shall hereafter see
the truth of an important principle to this effect, that there
will be a weakness of remembrance in any particular case
in proportion to the want of interest in it. Now hun-
dreds and thousands of our sensations and perceptions are
not remembered, because we take no interest in them. Of
course they are the same, relatively to our amount of
iABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 69
knowledge and our practice, as if they had never existed
at all. But when we are placed in some novel situation,
or when, in particular, we are deprived of any one of the
senses, the pressure of our necessities creates that interest
which was wanting before. Then we delay upon, and
mark, and remember, and interpret a multitude of evan-
escent intimations which were formerly neglected. The
senses thus acquire a very considerable relative power
and value. And in order to make out a satisfactory ex-
planation of some instances of habits, it is perhaps 'neces-
sary that this relative increase should be added to the di-
rect and positive augmentation of vigour and quickness
resulting from mefre repetition or exercise.
^ 55. Of habits as mollified by particular callings and arts.
Hitherto it has been our chief object to examine hab-
its in their relation to the senses separately ; it is proper
also to take a general view of them, as formed and mod-
ified by the particular callings and employments of men.
Habits of perception are frequently formed under such
circumstances, where all the senses are not only possess-
ed, but where they exist with their ordinary aptitudes and
powers. — In consequence of the habits which he has been
called upon to form by his particular situation, a farmer
of a tolerable degree of experience and discernment re-
quires but a slight inspection, in order to give an opinion
on the qualities of a piece of land, and its suitableness for
a settlement. A skilful printer w^ill at once notice every-
thing of excellence or of deficiency in the mechanical
execution of a printed work. — The same results are found
in all who practise the fine arts. An experienced paint-
er at once detects a mannerism in colouring, combinations
and contrasts of light and shade, and peculiarities of form,
proportion, or position, which infallibly escape a person
of more limited experience.
Dr. Reid speaks on this subject in the following char-
acteristic manner. — " Not only men, but children, idiots,
fnd brutes, acquire b} habit mgny perceptions which they
nad not originally. Almost every employment in life
(lath perceptions of this kind that are peculiar to it. The
shepherd knows every sheep of his flock, as we do our
70 HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
acquaintance, al d can pick them out of another flock one
by one. The cr .tcher knows by sight the weight and
quahty of his beeves and sheep before they are killed.
The larmer perceives by his eye very nearly the quantity
of hay in a rick, or of corn in a heap. The sailor sees
the burden, the built, and the distance of a ship at sea,
while she is a great way off. Every man accustomed to
Writing, distinguishes acquaintances by their handwriting,
as he does by their faces. And the painter distinguishes,
•in the works of his art, the style of all the great masters.
In a word, acquired perception is very different in differ-
ent persons, according to the diversity of objects about
which they are employed, and the application they bestow
in observing them."*
^ 56. The law of habit considered in reference to the perception of the
outHnes and forms of objects.
Before leaving the subject of Habit, considered as in-
fluencing Sensation and Perception, there is one other
topic which seems to be entitled to a brief notice ; w^e
refer to the manner in which we perceive the outlines and
forms of bodies. In discussing the subject of Attention,
Mr. Stewart, in connexion with his views on that subject,
introduces some remarks in respect to vision. He makes
this supposition. That the eye is fixed in a particular po-
sition, and the picture of an object is painted on the ret-
ina. He then starts this inquiry : Does the mind per-
ceive the complete figure of the object at once, or is this
perception the result of the various perceptions we have
of the different points in the outline ? — He holds the
opinion, that the perception is the result of our percep-
tions of the different points in the outline, which he adopts
as naturally consequent on such views, as the following
The outline of every body is made up of points or small-
est visible portions; no two of these points can be in
precisely the same direction ; therefore every point by it-
self constitutes just as distinct an object of attention to the
mind, as if it were separated by some interval of empty
space from all the other points. The conclusion there-
fore is, as every body is made up of parts, and as the per-
* Reid's Inquiry into the Human Mind, chap, vi.,^ 20.
« HABITS OF SENSATION AND FERCLTTION. 71
(jeption of the figure of the whole object implies a knowl-
edge of the relative situation of the different parts with
respect to each other, that such perception is the result
of a number of different acts of attention.
But if we adopt this view of Mr. Stewart, it is incum«
bent upon us to show how it happens that we appear to
see the object at once. The various facts which have
been brought forward in this chapter appear to furnish
us with a solution of this question. The answer is, that
the acts of perception are performed with such rapidity,
that the' effect with respect to us is the same as if it were
instantaneous. A habit has been formed ; the glance of
the mind, in the highest exercise of that habit, is inde-
scribably quick ; time is virtually annihilated ; and sep-
arate moments are to our apprehension of them crowded
into one.
^ 57. Notice of some facts which favour the above doctrine.
Some persons will probably entertain doubts of Mr.
Stew^art's explanation of the manner in which we per-
ceive the outlines of objects ; but there are various cir-
cumstances which tend to confirm it.- — When we look for
the first time on any object which is diversified with gaudy
colours, the mind is evidently perplexed with the variety
of perceptions which arise ; the view is indistinct, which
would not be the case if there were only one, and that an
immediate perception. And even in paintings, wljich are
of a more laudable execution, the effects at the first per-
ception will be similar.
But thej-e is another fact which comes still more di-
rectly to the present point. We find that we do not have
as distinct an idea, at the first glance, of a figure of a
hundred sides, as we do of a triangle or square. But we
evidently should, if the perception of visible figure were
the immediate consequence of the picture on the retina,
and not the combined result of the separate perceptions
^f the points in the outline. Whenever the figure is very
simple, the process of the miftd is so very rapid that the
perception seems to be instantaneous. But when the
sides are multiplied beyond a certain number, the inter-
val of time necessary for these different acts of attention
72 HABITS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
becomes perceptible. We are then distinctly consciouar
that the mind labours from one part of the object to an-
other, and that some time elapses before we grasp it as a
whole.
^ 58. Additional illustrations of Mr. Stewar* s doctrine.
These views and illustrations are still further confirmed
by some interesting, and perhaps more decisive facts. In
1807, Sir Everard Home, well known for his various phil-
osophical publications, read before the Royal Society an
account of two blind children whom he had couched for
the cataract. One of these was John Salter. Upon this
boy various experiments were made, for the purpose,
among other things, of ascertaining whether the sense of
sight does originally, and of itself alone, give us a knowl-
edge of the true figure of bodies. Some of the facts eli-
cited under these circumstances have a bearing upon the
subject now before us. In repeated instances, on the day
of his restoration to sight, the boy called square and tri-
angular bodies, w;hich were presented to the visual sense
merely, round. On a square body being presented to him,
he expressed a desire to touch it. " This being refused,
he examined it for some time, and said at last that he had
found a corner, and then readily counted the four corners
of the square ; and afterward, when a triangle was shown
him, he counted the corners in the same way ; but, in
doing §0, his eye went along the edge from corner to cor-
ner, naming them as he went along." On the thirteenth
day after the cataract was removed, the visual power he
had acquired was so small, that he could not by sight tell
a square from a circle, without previously directing his
sight to the corners of the square figure as he did at first,
and thus passing from corner to corner, and counting them
one by one. It was noticed that the sight seemed to la-
bour slowly onward from one point and angle to another,
as if it were incapable of embracing the outline by a
simultaneous and undivided movement. The process,
however, became more and more easy and rapid, until
\he. perception, w^hich at first was obviously made up of
distinct and successive acts, came to be in appearance
(and we may suppose it was only in appearance) a con-
centrated and single one.
CONCEPTIONS. 73
h was the same with Caspar Hauser. It is remarked
by his biographer, that whenever a person was introdu-
ced to him, (this was probably soon after his release from
\m prison,) he went up very close to him, regarded him
vith a sharp, staring look, and noticed particularly each
listinct part of his face, such as the forehead, eyes, nose,
nouth, and chin. He then collected and consolidated all
he different parts of the countenance, which he had no-
iced separately and piece by piece, into one whole. And
it was not till after this process that he seemed to have
a knowledge of the countenance or face, in distinction
from the parts of the face.
CHAPTER Vin.
CONCEPTIONS.
^ 59. Meaning and characteristics of conceptions.
We are now led, as we advance in the general subject
of intellectual states of external origin, to contemplate
the mind in another view, viz., as employed in giving rise
to what are usually termed conceptions. Without pro-
fessing to propose a definition in all respects unexcep-
tionable, we are entitled to say, in general terms, that this
name is given to any re-existing sensations whatever
which the mind has felt at some former period, and to
the ideas which we frame of absent objects of perception.
Whenever we have conceptions, our sensations and per-
ceptions are replaced, as Shakspeare expresses it, in the
"mind's eye," without our at all considering at what
time or in what i^lace they first originated. In other
words, they are revived or recalled, and nothing more. —
Using, therefore, the term conceptions to express a class
•f mental states, and, in accordance with the general
plan, having particular reference in our remarks here to
such as are of external origin, it may aid in the better
understanding of their distinctive character if we mention
more particularly how they differ both from sensations
G
74 CONCEPTIONS.
and perceptions, and also from remembrances, with whicL
last some may imagine them to be essentially the same.
(I.) Conceptions differ from the ordinary sensations
and perceptions in tliis respect, that both their causes and
their objects are absent. When the rose, the honeysuckle,
or other odoriferous body is presented to us, the effect
which follows in the mind is termed a sensation. When
we afterward think of that sensation, (as we sometimes
express it,) when the sensation is recalled, even thouo-h
very imperfectly, without the object which originally
caused it being present, it then becomes, by the use of
language, a conception. And it is 'le same in any in-
stance of perception. When, in strictness of speech, we
are said to perceive anything, as a tree, a building, or a
mountain, the objects of our perceptions are in all cases
before us. But we may form conceptions of them ; they
may be recalled and exist in the mind^s eye, however
remote they may be in fact, both in time and place.
(n.) They differ also from remembrances or ideas of
memory. We take no account of the period when those
objects which laid the foundation of them were present ;
whereas, in every act of the memory, there is combined
with the conception a notion of the past. Hence, as
those states of mind, which we call conceptions, possess
these distinctive marks, they are well entitled to a sep-
arate name.
Conceptions are regulated in their appearance and dis-
appearance by the principles of Association, which will
be explained hereafter. — Whenever at any time we may
use the phrase "power of conception" or "faculty of
conception," nothing more is to be understood by such
expressions than this, that there is in the mind a suscepti-
bility of feelings or ideas possessing the marks which we
have ascribed to this class.
^ 60. Of conceptions of objects of sight.
One of the striking facts in regard to our conception?
is, that we can far more easily conceive of the objects of
some senses than of others. He who has visited the Pyr-
amids of Egypt and the imposing remains of Grecian
temples, or has beheld, among nature's still greate * works.
CONCEPTIONS. 76
the towering heights of the Alps and the mighty cataract
of Niagara, will never afterward be at a loss in forming
a vivid conception of those interesting objects. The vis-
ual perceptions are so easily and so distinctly recalled,
that it is hardly too much to say of them, that they seem
to exist as permanent pictures in the mind. It is related
of Carsten Niebuhr, a well-known traveller in the East,
that, in extreme old age, after he had become bhnd, he
entertained his visiters with interesting details of what he
had seen many years before at Persepolis ; describing the
walls on which the inscriptions and bas-reliefs of which
he spoke were found, just as one would describe a build-
ing which he had recently visited. His son, v,^ho has
given an account of his life, remarks, in connexion wdth
this fact : " We could not conceal our astonishment. He
said to us, that, as he lay blind upon iiis bed, the images
of all that he had seen in the East were ever present to
his soul ; and it was therefore no wonder that he should
speak of them as of yesterday. In like manner, there was
vividly reflected to him, in the hours of stillness, the noc-
turnal view of the deep Asiatic heavens, with their brill-
iant host of stars, which he had so often contemplated ;
or else their blue and lofty vault by day ; and this was
his greatest enjoyment."
There seems to be less vividness in the conceptions of
sound, touch, taste, and smell ; particularly the last three.
Every one knows that it is difficult in ordinary cases to
recall with much distinctness a particular pain which we
have formerly experienced, or i particular taste, or smell.
The fact that the perceptions of sight are more easily and
■distinctly recalled than others, may be thus partially ex
plained. — Visible objects, or, rather, the outlines of them,
are complex ; that is, they are made up of a great num-
ber of points or very small portions. Hence the concep-
tion which we form of such an object as a whole, is
aided by the principles of association. The reason is
obvious. As every original perception of a visible object
IS a compound made up of tnany parts, whenever we
subsequently have a conception of it, the process is the
same ; we have a conception of a part of the object, and
the principles of association help us in conceiving of th^
^ CONCEPTIONS.
other parts. Association connects the parts together ; it
presents them to the mind in their proper arrangement,
and helps to sustain them there.
We are not equally aided by the laws of association
in forming our conceptions of the objects of the other
senses. When we think of some sound, taste, touch, or
smell, the object of our conception is either a single de-
tached sensation or a series of sensations. In every such
detached sensation of sound, taste, touch, or smell, whethei
we consider it at its first origin, or when it is subsequently
recalled, there is not necessarily that fixed and intimate
association of the parts which we suppose to exist in
every visual perception, and which must exist also in
every conception of objects of sight which subsequently
takes place. Accordingly, our conceptions of the latter ob-
jects arise more readily, and are more distinct, than of the
others. — There is a greater readiness and distinctness also,
when there is a series of sensations and perceptions of
sight, for the subsequent visual conceptions are aided by
associations "both in time and place ; but the recurrence
of other sensations and perceptions is aided only by asso-
ciations in time.
^61. Of the influence of habit on our conceptions.
It is another circumstance worthy of notice in regard
to conceptions, that the power of forming them depends
in some measure on habit. — A few instances wdll help to
illustrate the statement, Vhat what is termed Habit may
extend to the susceptibili^ of conceptions ; and the first
to be given will be of conceptions of sound. Our con-
ceptions of sound are not, in general, remarkably distinct,
as was intimated in the last section. It is nevertheless
true, that a person may by practice acquire the power oi
amusing himself with merely reading written music.
H? ving frequently associated the sounds wdth the notes,
he has at last such a strong conception of the sounds,
that he experiences, by merely reading the notes, a very
sensible pleasure. It is for the same reason, viz., because
our conceptions are strengthened by repetition or practice,
that readers may enjoy the harmony of poetical numbers
without at all articulating the words. In both cases they
CONCEPTIONS. 77
truly hear noting ; there is no actual sensation of sound;
and yet there is a virtual enunciation and melody in the
mind. It seems to be on this principle we are enabled to
explain the fact, that Beethoven composed some of his
most valued musical pieces after he had become entirely
deaf; originating harmonic combinations so profound and
exquisite as to require the nicest ear as a test, at the very
time he was unable to hear anything himself.
^ 62. Influence of habit on conceptions of sight.
That our power of forming conceptions is strengthen-
ed by habit, is capable of being further illustrated from
the sight. A person who has been accustomed to draw-
ing, retains a much more perfect notion of a building,
landscape, or other visible object, than one who has not
A portrait painter, or any person who has been in the
practice of drawing such sketches, can trace the outlines
of the .human form with very great ease; it requires
hardly more effort from them than to write their names.
— This point may also be illustrated by the difference
which we sometimes notice in people in their conceptions
of colours. Some are fully sensible of the diffei^nce be-
tween two colours when they are presented to them, but
cannot with confidence give names to these colours when
they see them apart, and may even confound the one with
the other. Their original sensations and perceptions are
supposed to be equally distinct with those of other per-
sons ; but their subsequent conception of the colours is
far from being so. This defect arises partly, at least,
from want of practice ; that is to say, from the not hav-
ing formed a habit. The persons who exhibit this weak-
ness of conception have not been compelled, by their sit-
uation nor by mere inclination, to distinguish and 'to
name colours so much as is common.
^ 63. Of the subserviency of our conceptions to description.
^ It is highly favourable to the talent for lively descrip-
tion, when a person's conceptions are readily suggested
and are distinct. Even such a one's common conversa-
tion differs from that of those whose conceptions arise
more slowly and are more faint. One man, whether in
G2
^ CONCEPTIONS.
conversation or in written description, seer^ to place tlie
object which he wishes to describe directly before us ; it
is represented distinctly and to the life. Another, al-
though not wanting in a command of language, is con-
fused and embarrassed amid a multitude of particulars,
which, in consequence of the feebleness of his concep-
tions, he finds himself but half acquainted with ; and he
therefore gives us but a very imperfect and confused no-
tion of the thing which he desires to make known.
It has been by some supposed, that a person might
give a happier description of an edifice, of a landscape,
or other object, from the conception than from the actual
perception of it. The perfection of a description does
not always consist in a minute specification of circum-
stances ; in general, the description is better when there
is a judicious selection of them. The best rule for ma-
king the selection is to attend to the particulars that make
the deepest impression on our own minds, or, what is the
same thing, that most readily and distinctly take a place
in our conceptions. — When the object is actually before
us, it is extremely difficult to compare the impressions
which different circumstances produce. When we after-
ward conceive of the object, we possess merely the out-
line of it ; but it is an outline made up of the most stri-
king circumstances. The circumstances, it is true, will not
impress all persons alike, but will somewhat vary with
the degree of their taste. But when, with a correct and
ddicate taste, any one combines lively conceptions, and
gives a description from those conceptions, he can hardly
fail to succeed in it. And, accordingly, we find here one
^eat element of poetic power. It is the ability of form-
ing vivid conceptions which bodies forth
" The forms of things unknown ; the poet's pen
Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name."
^ 64. Of conceptions attended with a momentary belief.
Our conceptions are sometimes attended with belief;
when they are very lively, we are apt to ascribe to them
a real outw^ard existence, or believe in them. We do
not undertake to assert that the belief is permanent ; but
CONCEPTIONS. 79
A number of facts strongly lead to the conclusion that it
has a momentary existence.
(1.) A painter, in drawing the features and bodily forn\
of an absent friend, may have so strong a conception, so
vivid a mental picture, as to beheve for a moment that his
friend is before him. After carefully recalling his thoughts
at such times, and reflecting upon them, almost every paint-
er is ready to say that he has experienced some illusions of
this kind. " We read," says Dr. Conolly, " that, when
Sir Joshua Reynolds, after being many hours occupied in
painting, walked out into the street, the lamp-posts seem-
ed to him to be trees, and the men and women moving
shrubs." It is true, the illusion is in these cases very
short, because the intensity of conception, which is the
foundation of it, can never be kept up long when the
mind is in a sound state. Such intense conceptions are
unnatural. And, further, all the surrounding objects of
perception, which no one can altogether disregard for any
length of time, tend to check the illusion and terminate it.
(2.) When a blow is aimed at any one, although in
sport, and he fully knows it to be so, he forms so vivid a
conception of what might possibly be the effect, that his
belief is for a moment controlled, and he unavoidably
shrinks back from it. This is particularly the case if the
blow approaches the eye. Who can help winking at
such" times '? It is a proof of our belief being controlled
under such circumstances, that we can move our own
hands rapidly in the neighbourhood of the eye, either
perpendicularly or horizontally ; and, at the same time,
easily keep our eyehds from motion. But when the mo-
tion is made by another, the conception becomes more
vivid, and a belief of danger inevitably arises. — Again,
place a person on the battlements of a high tower ; his
reason tells him he is in no danger ; he knows he is in
none. But, after all, he is unable to look down from the
battlements without fear ; his conceptions are so exceed-
, ingly vivid as to induce a momentary belief of danger
in opposition to all his reasonings.
(3.) When we are in pain from having struck our fooi
against a stone, or when pain is suddenly caused in us by
any other inanimate object, we are apt to vent a moment-
80 CONCEPTIONS.
ary rage upon it That is to say, our belief is so affect-
ed for an instant, that we ascribe to it an accountable ex-
istence, and would punish it accordingly. This is ob-
served particularly in children and in Savages. It is on
the principle of our vivid conceptions being attended
with belief, that poets so often ascribe life, and agency,
and intention to the rain and winds, to storms, and thun-
der and lightning. How natural are the expressions of
King Lear, overwhelmed with the ingratitude of his
daughters, and standing with his old head bared to the
pelting tempest !
" Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters ;
I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness ;
I never gave you kingdoms, called you children."
(4.) There are persons who are entirely convinced of
the folly of the popular belief of ghosts and other night-
ly apparitions, but who cannot be persuaded to sleep in
a room alone, nor go alone into a room in the dark.
Whenever they happen cut at night, they are constantly
looking on every side ; their quickened perceptions behold
images, which never had any existence except in their
own minds, and they are the subjects of continual dis-
quiet and even terror. — " It was my misfortune," says Dr.
Priestly, " to have the idea of darkness, and the ideas of
invisible malignant s[)!rits and apparitions very closely
connected in my infancy ; and to this day, notwithstand-
ing I believe nothing of those invisible powers, and, con-
sequently, of their connexion with darkness, or anything
else, I cannot be perfectly easy in every kind of situation
in the dark, though I am sensible I gain ground upon
this prejudice continually."
In all such cases we see the influence of the prejudices
of the nursery. Persons who are thus afflicted were
taught in early childhood to form conceptions of ghosts,
visible hobgoblins, and unearthly spirits ; and the habit
still continues. It is true, when they listen to their rea-
sonings and philosophy, they may well say they do not
believe in such things. But the effect of their philoso-
phy is merely to check their belief; not in ten cases in a
thousand is the belief entirely overcome. Every little
'^'hile, in all solitary places, and especially in the dark, it
CONCEPTIONS. 81
leturnSj and, when banished, returns again ; otherwise we
cannot give an explanation of the conduct of these per-
sons.
^ 65. Corfceptions which are joined with perceptions.
The behef in our mere conceptions is the more evi-
dent and striking whenever at any time they are joined
with our perceptions. — A person, for instance, is walking
in a field in a foggy morning, and perceives something,
no matter what it is"; but he believes it to be a man, and
does not doubt it. In other words, he truly perceives
some object, and, in addition to that perception, has a
mental conception of a man, attended with belief. When
he has advanced a few feet further, all at once he per-
ceives that what he conceived to be a man is merely a
stump w^ith a few stones piled on its top. He perceived
at first, as plainly or but little short of it, that it was a
stump, as in a moment afterward ; thefe were the whole
time very nearly the same visible form and the same di-
mensions in his eye. But he had the conception of a
man in his mind at the same moment, which overruled
and annulled the natural effects of the visual perception ;
the conception, being associated with the present visible
object, acquired peculiar strength and permanency; so
much so, that he truly and firmly believed that a human
being was before him. But the conception has departed ;
the present object of perception has taken its place, and
it is now impossible for him to conjure up the phantom,
the reality of which he but just now had no doubt of.
One of the numerous characters whom Sir Walter
Scott has sketched with so much truth to nature, speaks
of himself as being banished, on a certain occasion, to
one of the sandy Keys of the West Indies, which was re-
puted to be inhabited by malignant demons. This per-
son, at\er acknowledging he had his secret apprehensions
upon their account, remarks, " In open daylight o.r in ab-
solute darkness I did not "g'eatly apprehend their ap-
proach ; but in the misty dawn of the morning, or when
evening was about to fall, I saw, for the first week of my
abode on the Key, many a dim and undefined spectre ;
now resembling a Spaniard, with his capa w^cped
82 CONCEPTIONS.
aroi nd him, and his huge sombrera, as large as an um-
brella, upon his head ; now a Dutch sailor, with his rough
cap and trunk hose ; and now an Indian Cacique, with
his feathery crown and long lance of oane. I always
approached them, but, whenever I drew near, the phantom
changed into a bush, or a piece of driftw^oocl, or a wreath
of mist, or some such cause of deception."
But it is unnecessary to resort to books for illustrations
of this topic. Multitudes of persons have a conceptive
facility of creations, which is often troublesome and per-
plexing; especially in uncommon situations, and in the
night. And in all cases this tendency is greatly strength-
ened, whenever it can lay hold of objects, the outlines
of which it Ccin pervert to its own purposes. — In instan-
ces of this kind, where the conceptions are upheld, as it
were, by present objects of perception, and receive a sort
of permanency from them, nothing is better know^n than
that we often exercise a strong and unhesitating belief.
These instances, therefore, can properly be considered as
illustrating and confirming the views in the preceding
section.
^ 66. Conceptions as connected with fictitious representations.
These observations suggest an explanation, at least m
part, of the effects which are produced on the mind by
exhibitions of fictitious distress. In the representation
of tragedies, for instance, it must be admitted, that there
is a general conviction of the whole being but a fiction.
But, although persons enter the theatre with this general
conviction, it does not always remain with them the
whole time. At certain peculiarly interesting passages
in the poet, and at certain exhibitions of pow^erful and
well-timed effort in the actor, this general impression, that
all is a fiction, fails. The feelings of the spectator may
be said to rush into the scenes ; he mingles in the events ;
carried away and lost, he for a moment believes all to be
real, and the tears gush at the catastrophe which he wit-
nesses. The explanation, therefore, of the emotions felt
at the exhibition of a tragedy, such as indignation, pity,
and abhorrence, is, that at certain parts of the exhibition
we have a momentary belief in the reality of the events
SLMPLICITY AND COMPLEXNESS OF MENTAL STATES. 83
which are represented. And after the illustrations which
have been given, such a belief cannot be considered im-
possible. — The same explanation will apply to the emo-
tions which follow our reading of tragedies when alone,
or any other natural and affecting descriptions. In the
world of conceptions which the genius of the writer
conjures up, we are transported out of the world of real
existence, and for a while fully believe in the reality of
vhat is only an incantation.
CHAPTER IX.
SIMPLICITY AND COMPLEXNESS OF MENTAL STATES
^ 67. Origin of the distinction of simple and complex.
In looking at our thoughts and feelings, as they con-
tinually pass under the review of our internal observation,
we readily perceive that they are not of equal worth ', we
do not assign to them the same estimate ; one state of
mmd is found to be expressive of one thing only, and that
thing, whatever it is, is precise, and definite, and insep-
arable ; while another state of mind is found to be ex-
pressive of, and virtually equal to, many others. And
hence we are led, not only with the utmost propriety, but
even by a sort of necessity, to make a division of the
whole body of our mental affections into the two classes
of SIMPLE and complex. Nature herself makes the divis-
ion ; it is one of those characteristics w^hich gives to the
mind, in part at least, its greatness ; one of those elements
of power, without which the soul could not be what it is,
and without a knowledge of which it is difficult to pos-
sess a full and correct understanding of it in other respects.
. ^ 68. Nature and characteristics of simple mental states.
We shall first offer some remarks on those mental states
vhich are simple, and shall aim to give an understanding
t>f their nature, so far as can be expected on a subject,
Cbe clearness of which depends more on a reference to
84 SIMPLICITY AND COMPLEXNESS
our own personal consciousness than on the teachings of
others.
Let it be noticed then, in the first place, that a simple
idea cannot be separated into parts. — It is clearly im-
plied in the very distinction between simplicity and com-
plexity, considered in relation to the states of the mind,
that there can be no such separation, no such division. It
is emphatically true of our simple ideas and emotions, and
of all other simple states of the mind, that they are one
and indivisible. Whenever you can detect in them mOie
than one element, they at once lose their character uf
simplicity, and are to be regarded as complex, however
they may have previously appeared. Inseparableness
consequently is their striking characteristic ; and it may
be added, that they are not only inseparable in them-
selves, but are separate from everything else. There is
nothing which can stand as a substitute for them where
they are, or represent them where they are not ; they are
independent unities, constituted exclusively by the mind
itself, having a specific and positive character, but never
theless known only in themselves.
^ 69. Simple mental states not susceptible of definition.
Let it be observed, in the second place, that our simple
notions cannot be defined. — This view of them follows
necessarily from what has been said of their oneness and
inseparableness, compared with what is universally un-
derstood by defining. In respect to definitions, it is un-
doubtedly true, that we sometimes use synonymous words,
and call such use a definition ; but it is not properly such.
In every legitimate definition, the idea which is to be de-
fined is to be separated, as far as may be thought neces-
sary, into its subordinate parts ; and these parts are to be
presented to the mind for its examination, instead of the
original notion into which they entered. This process
must' be gone through in every instance of accurate de-
fining ; this is the general and authorized view of defini-
tion ; and it is not easy to see in what else it can well
consist.
But *his process will not apply to our simple thoughts
and feelings, because, if there be any such thing as sim-
r
OF MENTAI. STATES. 85
pie mental states, they are characterized by inseparable-
ness and oneness. And furthermore, if we define ideas
by employing other ideas, we must count upon meeting
dt last with such as shall be ultimate, and will reject all
verbal explanation ; otherwise we can never come to an
end in the process. — So that the simple mental affections
are not only undefinable in themselves ; but if there were
no such elementary states of mind, there could be no de-
fining in any other case; it would be merely analysis
upon analysis, a process without completion, and a labour
without end ; leaving the subject in as much darkness as
when the process was begun.
When we speak of simple ideas and feelings, and a
person, in consequence of our inabihty to define them,
professes to be ignorant of the terms we use, we can fre-
quently aid him in understanding them by a statement
of the circumstances, as far as possible, under which the
simple mental state exists. But having done this, we can
merely refer him to his own senses and consciousness, as
the only teachers from which he can expect to receive
satisfaction.
^ 70. Simple mental states representative of a reality.
A third mark or characteristic of simple mental states
is, that they always stand for or represent a reality. —
In other words, no simple idea is, in its own nature, de-
lusive or fictitious, but always has something precisely
corresponding to it. — It is not always so with complex
ideas ; these, as Mr. Locke justly gives us to understand,
are sometimes chilMerical. That is to say; the elements
of which they are i^omposed are so brought together and
combined as to lorm something, of which nature presents
no corresponding reality. If, for instance, a person had
an idea of a body, yellow, or of some other colour, malle-
able, fixed ; possessing, in a word, all the qualities of iron
or of gold, with this difference only, of its being lighter
than water, it would be what Mr. Locke terms a chimer-
ical idea ; because the combination of the elements here
exists only in the human mind, and not ia nature ; the
thing has no outward or objective reality. The words
centaur, dragon, and hypogriff, which are the weli
H
56 SIMPLICITY AND COMPLEXNESS
known names for imaginary beings possessing nu actual
existence, are expressive of chimerial complex ideas.
These ideas have nothing corresponding to them. But it
is not so with the sijnple states of the mind. If it were
otherwise, since in our inquiries after truth we naturally
proceed from what is complex to what is simple, there
would be no sure foundation of knowledge. Whenever,
in our analysis of a subject, we arrive at truly simple
ideas, we have firm footing ; there is no mistake, no de-
lusion. Nature, always faithful to her own character,
gives utterance to the truth alone. But man, in combi-
ning together the elements which nature furnishes, does
not always avoid mistakes.
$71. Origin of complex notions, and their relation to simple.
Our simple states of mind, which we have thus endeav-
oured to explain, were probably first in origin. There are
reasons for considering them as antecedent in point of
time to our complex mental states, although in many cases
it may not be easy to trace the progress of the mind from
the one to the other. The complex notions of external
material objects embrace the separate and simple notions
of resistance, extension, hardness, colour, taste, and others.
As these elementary perceptions evidently have their ori-
gin in distinct and separate senses, it is but reasonable to
suppose that they possess a simple, before they are com-
bined together in a complex existence. Simple ideas,
therefore, may justly be regarded as antecedent, in point
of time, to those which are complex, and as laying the
foundation of them.
Hence we see that it is sufficiently near the truth, and
that it is not improper, to speak of our complex ideas as
derived from, or made up of, simple ideas. This is the
well-known language of Mr. Locke on this subject ; and
when we consider how much foundation there is for it in
the constitution and operations of the human mind, there
IS good reason for retaining it. — Although purely simple
states of the mind are few in number, vast multitudes of
a complex nature are formed from them. The ability
which the mind possesses of originating complex thoughts
and feelings from elementary ones, may be compared to
OF MENTAL STATES. 87
our power of uniting together the letters of the alphabet
in the formation of syllables and words.
^ 72. Supposed complexness without the antecedence of simple feelings.
It is possible that some persons may object to the doc-
trine proposed in the last section, that complex mental
states are subsequent in point of time to those which are
simple ; and may be inclined to adopt the opinion, that
some, at least, of our complex notions are framed at once
and immediately, whenever an occasion presents itself,
and are not necessarily dependent on the prior existence
of any other feelings. When the eye, for instance, opens
on a wide and diversified landscape, they suppose the
whole to be embraced in one complex mental state, the
formation of which is not gradual and susceptible of
measurement by time, but is truly instantaneous. When
we direct our attention to objects of less extent, as a por-
trait, a landscape, or historical painting, they imagine it
to be still more evident, that the complexity of mind, cor-
responding to the complexity of the object, is a result
without any antecedent process. Without doubt, what
has now been said is, in some instances, apparently the
case ; but this appearance (for we cannot speak of it as
anything more than such) is susceptible of an obvious ex-
planation, without an abandonment of the general princi-
ple which has been laid down. No one is ignorant that
the mind often passes with exceeding rapidity along the
successive objects of its contemplation. This rapidity
may, in some cases, be so great, that no foundation will
be laid for remembrance ; and of course, in such cases,
the complex feehng has the appearance of being formed
without the antecedence of other .simple feelings. Often
the eye glances so rapidly over the distinct parts of the
portrait, the historical painting, or even the wide land-
scape, that we are utterly unable in our recollection to
detect the successive steps of its progress. There natu-
^lly seems, therefore, to be but one view, instead of dis-
tinct and successive glances of the mind from hill to hill,
from forest to forest, and from one verdant spot to an-
other, prior to the supposed one and instantaneous com-
prehension of the whole. But there is much reason for
tgO SIMPLICITY AND COMPLEXNESS
saying that this oneness of comprehension is in seeming
and appearance only, and not in fact. (See § 57, 58.)
^ 73. The precise sense in which coinplexness is to be understood.
But while we distinctly assert the frequent complexness
of the mental affections, it should be particularly kept in
mind, that they are not to be regarded in the light of a
material compound, where the parts, although it may
sometimes appear to be otherwise, necessarily possess no
higher unity than that of juxtaposition, and, of course,
can be literally separated from each other, and then put
together again. There is nothing of this kind ; neither
putting together nor taking asunder, in this literal and
material sense. — But if our thoughts and feelings are not
made up of others, and are not complex in the material
sense of the expressions, what then constitutes their com-
plexness ? This inquiry gives occasion for the impor-
tant remark, that complexness in relation to the mind is
not literal, but virtual only. What we term a complex
feeling is in itself truly simple, but at the same time it is
equal to many others, and is complex only in that sense.
Thought after thought, and emotion following emotion,
passes through the mind ; and as they are called forth by
the operation of the laws of association, many of them
necessarily have relation to the same object. Then there
follows a new state of mind, which is the result of those
previous feelings, and is complex in the sense already ex-
plained. That is to say, it is felt by us to possess a vir-
tual equality to those separate antecedent thoughts and
emotions. Our simple feelings are like streams coming
from different mountains, but meeting and mingling to-
gether at last in the common centre of some intermediate
lake ; the tributary fountains are no longer separable ;
but have disappeared, and become merged and confound-
ed in the bosom of their common resting-place. Or they
may be likened to the cents and dimes of the American
coinage, tens and hundreds of which are represented by
a single eagle ; and yet the eagle is not divided into a
hundred or thousand parts, but has as much unity as the
numerous pieces for which it stands.
The language which expresses the composition and
OF MENTAL STATES. S9
complexity of thought is, therefore, to be regarded as
wholly metaphorical when applied to the mind, and is
not to be taken in its literal meaning. We are under the
necessity of employing in this case, as in others, language
which has a material origin, but we shall not be led
astray by it if we carefully attend to what has been said,
and endeavour to aid our conception of it by a reference
to our internal experience.
<5 74. Illustrations of analysis as applied to the mind.
The subject of the preceding section will be the better
understood by the consideration of Analysis as applicable to
the mind. As we do not combine literally, so we do not
untie or separate Hterally ; as there is no literal complex-
ness, so there is no literal resolution or analysis of it.
Nevertheless, we have a meaning when we speak of
analyzing our thoughts and feelings. And what is if?
What are we to understand by the term analysis ?
Although this subject is not without difficulty, both in
the conception and in the expression of it, it is susceptible
of some degree of illustration. — It will be remembered
that 4;here may be an analysis of material bodies. The
chemist analyzes when he takes a piece of glass, which
appears to be one substance, and finds that it is not one,
but is separable into silicious and alkaline matter. He
takes other bodies, and separates them in like manner ;
and whenever he does this, the process is rightly called
analysis.
Now we apply the same term to the mind ; but the
thing expressed by it, the process gone through, is not
the same. All we can say is, there is something like this.
We do not resolve and separate a complex thought, as
we do* a piece of glass or other material body, into its
parts ; we are utterly unable to do it, if we should se-
riously make the attempt ; every mental state is, in itself
and in fact, simple and indivisible, and is complex only
^rtually. Complex notions are the results rather than
the compounds of former feelitigs ; and though not liter-
ally made up of parts, have the relation to them which
any material whole has to the elements composing it:
and in that particular sense may be said to comprehend
H2
96 SIMPLICITY AND COMPLEXNESS
or embrace the subordinate notions. Mental analysis ac-
cordingly concerns merely this relation. We perform
such an analysis when, by the aid of our reflection and
consciousness, we are able to indicate those separate and
subordinate feelings to which, in our conception of it,
the complex mental state is virtually equal.
The term government, for instance, when used in ref-
erence to the mental perception of the thing thus named,
expresses a complex state of the mind ; we may make
this mental state, which is in fact only one, although it is
virtually more than one, a subject of contemplation; and
we are said to analyze it when we are able to indicate
those separate and more elementary notions, without the
existence and antecedence of which it could not have
been formed by the mind. We do not literally take the
complex state in pieces, but we designate other states of
mind which, every one's knowledge of the origin of
thought convinces him, must have preceded it, such as the
ideas of power, right, obligation, command, and the rela-
tive notions of superior and inferior.
<J 75. Complex notions of external origin.
The doctrine of simplicity and complexness of mental
states is applicable, in both its forms, to the Intellective
and Sensitive parts of our nature ; in other words, there
may be a complex affection or passion, as well as a com-
plex perception. The acts of the Will, the other great
Division of the mental nature, are always simple. When
we consider the subject in reference to the intellect alone,
we may add further, that there is complexity of the In-
tellect both in its internal and external action ; and it
seems proper, in this connexion, to say something in par-
ticular of COMPLEX NOTIONS OF EXTERNAL ORIGIN.
What we term our simple ideas are representative of
the parts of objects only. The sensations of colour, such
as red, white, yellow ; the original intimations from the
touch, such as resistance, extension, hardness, and softness,
do not, in themselves considered, give us a knowledge of
substances, but only of the parts, attributes, or elements
of substances. Accordingly, the ideas which we have of
the various objects of the external world are, for the
OF MENTAL STATES. 91
most part, complex. We speak of a house, a tree, a
flowei, a plant, a mineral, an animal ; and in none of
these cases are the ideas which we have simple ; but, on
the contrary, embrace a considerable number of elements
<J 76. Of objects contemplated as wholes.
In point of fact, the various external objects which
come under our notice are presented to us as wholes ;
and, as such, (whatever may have been the original pro-
cess leading to that result,) we very early contemplate
them. — Take, for instance, a loadstone In their ordinary
and common thoughts upon it, (the result probably of
some antecedent and very early training), men undoubted-
ly contemplate it as a whole ; the state of mind which
has reference to it embraces it as such. This complex
notion, like all others which are complex, is virtually equal
to a number of others of a more elementary character. —
Hence, when we are called upon to give an account of
the loadstone, we can return no other answer than by an
enumeration of its elements. It is something which has
weight, colour, hardness, power to draw iron, and what-
ever else we discover in it.
We use the term gold. This is a complex term, and
implies a complexity in the corresponding mental state.
But if we use the word gold, or any other synonymous
word, in the hearing of a man who has neither seen that
substance nor had it explained to him, he will not under-
stand what is meant to be conveyed. We must enter
into an analysis ; and show that it is a combination of
the qualities of yellow^ness, great weight, fusibility, duc-
tility, &c. We look upward to the sim in the heavens.
But what should we know of that great aggregate, if we
could not contemplate it in the elements of form and ex-
tension, of brightness and heat, of roundness and regu-
larity of motion ? — All the ideas, therefore, which we
form of external objects considered as wholes, are com-
»plex; and all such complex notions are composed oi
those which are simple. *
92 ABSTKACTION.
CHAPTER X.
ABSTRACTIOTH
^ 77. Abstraction implied in the analysis of complex ideas.
The remarks which have been made in the course of
the foregoing chapter, on the analysis and examination
of our Complex Intellectual states, naturally lead to the
consideration of another subject, in some respects inti-
mately connected with that topic. When we have once
formed a complex notion (no matter at what period, in
what way, or of what kind,) it not infrequently happens
that we desire, for various reasons, to examine more par-
ticularly some of its parts. Very frequently this is abso-
lutely necessary to the full understanding of it. Although
undoubtedly its elementary parts once came under re-
view, that time is now long past ; it has become impor-
tant to institute a new inspection, to take each simple
notion involved in it, and examine it by itself. And this
is done by means of the process of Abstraction, and in
no other way.
By the aid of that process, our complex notions, how-
ever comprehensive they may be, are susceptible, if one
may be allowed so to speak, of being taken to pieces,
and the elementary parts may be abstracted or separated
from each other ; that is, they are made subjects of con-
sideration apart from other ideas, with which they are
ordinarily found to be associated. And hence, whenever
this is the case in respect to the states of the mind, they
are sometimes called Abstractions, and still more fre-
quently are known by the name of abstract mEAs. — For
the purpose of distinctness in what we have to say, they
may^ be divided into the two classes of Particular and
General ; that is to say, in some cases the abstraction re-
lates only to a single idea or element, in others it in-
cludes more
ABSTRACTION. 93
^ 78. Instances of particular abstract ideas.
We shall proceed, therefore, to remark first on Particu-
lar abstractions. Of this class, the notions which we
(brm of the different kinds of colours may be regarded as
instances. For example, we hold in our hand a rose ; it
has extension, colour, form, fragrance. The mind is
so deeply occupied with the colour as almost wholly to
neglect the other qualities. This is a" species of abstrac-
tion, although perhaps an imperfect one, because, w^hen
an object is before us, it is difficult, in our most attentive
consideration of any particular quality or property, to
withdraw the mind wholly from the others. When, on
the contrary, any absent object of perception occurs to us,
when we think of or form a conception of it, our thoughts
will readily fix upon the colour of such object, and make
that the subject of consideration, without particularly
regarding its other qualities, such as weight, hardness,
taste, form, &c. We may also distinguish in any body
(either when present, or still more perfectly when absent)
its solidity from its extension, or we may direct our atten-
tion to its weight, or its length, or breadth, or thickness,
and make any one of these a distinct object in our thoughts.
And hence, as it is a well-known fact that the proper-
ties of any body may be separated in the view and ex-
amination of the mind, however closely they may be con-
nected in their appropriate subjects, we may lay down
this statement in respect to the states of the mind before
us, viz.: When* any quality C" attribute of an object,
which does not exist by itself, but in a state of combina-
tion, is detached by our minds from its customary associ-
ates, and is considered separately, the notion we form of
it becomes a particular abstract idea. — The distinctive
mark of this class is, that the abstraction is limited to one
quality. It should perhaps be particularly added, that
the abstraction or separation may exist mentally, when it
cannot take place in the object itself. For instance, the
*Bize, the figure, length, breadlh, colour, &c., of a building,
may each of them be made subjects of separate mental
consideration, although there can be no real or actual sep-
aration of these things in the building itself. If there be
any one of these properties, there must necessarily be all
9% ABSTRACTION
4 "^^^ Mental process in separating and abstracting them.
The manner of expressing ourselves on the subject of
oui" abstract notions, to which we have been accustomed,
is apt to create and cherish a belief in the existence of a
separate mental faculty, adapted solely to this particular
purpose. But the doctrine of a power or faculty of ab-
straction, which is exclusive of other mental susceptibili-
ties, and is employed solely for this purpose, does not ap-
pear to be well founded. It will convey an impression
nearer the truth to speak of the process rather than the
power of abstraction. — The following statement will be
sufficient to show how those of the first class, or particu-
lar abstract ideas, are formed.
Although our earliest notions, whether they arise from
the senses or are of an internal origin, are simple, exist-
ing in an independent and separate state, yet those sim-
ple thoughts are very soon found to unite together with a
considerable degree of permanency, and out of them are
formed complex states of mind. Many are in this wav
combined together in one, and the question is, how this
combination is to be loosened, and the elementary parts
are to be extracted from their present complexity ?
In answer, it may be said that, in every case of separ-
ating a particular abstract idea, there must necessarily be
a determination, a choice, an act of the will. This vol-
untary state of mind must concern the previous complex
mental state, when viewed in one respect, rather than
another ; or, what is the same thing, it will concern one
part of the complex idea rather than another. So that
we may truly and justly be said to have not only a desire,
but a determination to consider or examine some part of
the complex idea more particularly than the others.
When the mind is in this manner directed to any partic-
ular part of a complex notion, we find it to be the fact,
that the principle of association, or whatever principle it
is which keeps the other parts in their state of union with
it, ceases, in a greater or less degree, to operate and to
maintain that union ; the other parts rapidly fall off and
disappear, and the particular quality, towards which the
mind is especially directed, remains the sole subject of
consideration. That is to say, it is abstracted, or becomejs
ABSTRACTION. 95
an abstract idea. — If, for example, we have in mind the
complex notion of any object, a house, tree, plant, flow-
er, and the like, but have a desire and determination to
make the colour, which forms a part of this complex no-
tion, a particular subject of attention, the consequence is,
that, while the quality of colour occupies our chief re-
gard, the other qualities will disappear and no more be
thought of If we determine to examine the weight or
extension of an object, the result will Be the same ; in
other words, the extension, weight, colour, &c., becoming
distinct and exclusive objects of attention, will be ab-
stracted.
This, in the formation of particular abstract ideas,
seems to be the process of the mind, and nothing more ;
viz.. The direction of an act of the will to a particular
part of a complex notion, and the consequent detention of
the part towards which the mental choice is directed, and
the natural and necessary disappearance, under such cir-
cumstances, of the other parts.
^ 80. General abstract notions the same with genera and species.
We proceed now to consider the other class of abstract
ideas. — General Abstract ideas are not only different, in
consequence of embracing a greater number of elementa-
ry parts, from those which are Particular, but are also sus-
ceptible of being distinguished from the great body of our
other complex notions. — ^The idea, for example, which
we form of any individual, of John, Peter, or James, is
evidently a complex one, but it is not necessarily a gen-
eral one. The notion which we frame of a particular
horse or of a particular tree, is likewise a complex idea, but
not a general one. There will be foui^d to be a clear dis-
tinction between them, although it may not be perfectly
obvious at first. General abstract ideas are our notions
of the classes of objects, that is, of Genera and Species.
They are expressed by general names, without, in most
•tases, any defining or limitation, as when we use the
words ANIMAL, MAN, HORSE, BIRD, SHEEP, FISH, TREE, not tO
express any one in particular of these various classes, but
animals, men, horses, &c., in general.
5S ABSTRACTION.
^ 81. Process in classification, or the forming of genera and species.
Now if our general abstract ideas, so far as they relate
lo external objects, are truly notions of species and gen-
era, it will aid us in the better understanding of them if
we briefly consider how species and genera are formed.
Men certainly find no great practical difficulty in forming
these classifications, since we find that they do in fact
make them in numberless instances, and at a very early
period of life. They seem to be governed in the process
by definite and uniform mental tendencies. — What, then,
in point of fact, is the process in classification ? It is ob-
vious, in the first place, that no classification can be made
without considering two or more objects together. A
number of objects, therefore, are first presented to us for
our observation and inquiry, which are to be examined
first in themselves, and then in comparison with each
Other. We will take a familiar scene to illustrate what
takes place.
We suppose ourselves to stand on the bank of a navi-
gable river ; we behold the flowing of its waters, the
cliffs that overhang it, the trees that line its shore, the
boats and boatmen on its bosom, the flocks and herds that
press down to drink from its waves. With such a scene
before us, it is to be expected that the mind will rapidly
make each and all of these the subjects of its contem-
plation ; nor does it pursue this contemplation and inquiry
far, vdthout perceiving certain relations of agreement or
difference. Certain objects before it are felt to be essen-
tially alike, and others to be essentially different ; and
hence they are not all arranged in one class, but a dis-
crimination is made, and different classes are formed
The flocks and herds are formed into their respective
classes. The tall and leafy bodies on the river's bank,
although they differ from each other in some respects, are
yet found to agree in so many others, that they are ar-
ranged together in another class, and called by the gen-
eral name of tree. The living, moving, and reasoning
beings that propel the boats on its waters, form another
class, and are called MAN.-^And there is the same process
and the same result in respect to all other bodies coming
within the range of our observation.
ABSTRACTION 97
^ 82. Early classifications sometimes incorrect.
It has been intimated, that, in making thessfe cla^tioa-
tions, men are governed by definite and uniform raenial
tendencies ; still it must be acknowledged that mistakes
are sometimes committed, especially in the early periods
of society, and in all cases where the opportunities of ex-
amination and comparison are imperfect When man
first opens his eyes on nature, (and in the infancy of our
race he finds himself a novice wherever he goes,) objects
so numerous, so various in kind, so novel and interesting,
crowd upon his attention, that, attempting to direct him-
self to all at the same time, he loses sight of their specif-
ical differences, and blends them together more than a
calm and accurate examination would justify. And
hence it is not to be wondered at that our earliest classi-
fications, the primitive genera and species, are soiiietimes
incorrectly made.
Subsequently, when knowledge has been in some meas-
ure amassed, and reasoning and observation have been
brought to a greater maturity, these errors are attended to ;
individuals are rejected from species where they do not
properly belong, and species from genera. The most sav-
age and ignorant tribes will in due season correct their
mistakes and be led into the truth.
() 83, Illustrations of our earliest classifications.
We are naturally led to introduce one or two incidents
here which throw light on this part of our subject.
Wliat we wish to illustrate is the simple fact that men
•eadily perreive the resemblances of objects, and exhibit
a disposition to classify them in reference to such resem-
blance. The first case w^hich we shall mention in illus-
triition of this, is that of Caspar Hauser. The principal
objects which Caspar had to amuse himself with in his pris-
on were two little wooden horrf^s, which, in his entire ig-
norance, he believed to be possessed of life and sensibility.
•After the termination of his ynprisonment, his biographer
informs us, that to ^' every animal he m^t with, whether
quadruped or biped, dog, cat, goose, or fowl, he gave the
name of horse."
In the year 1814, Pitcairn's Island, a solitary spot in
»0 ABSTRACTION.
the Pacific Ocean, was visited by two English cruisers.
Two of the young men that belonged on the island, and
whose knowledge was, of course, extremely limited, came
on board one of the vessels. " The youths," says the
Narrative, " were greatly surprised at the sight of so
many novel objects ; the size of the ship, the guns, and
everything around them. Observing a cow, they were at
first somewhat alarmed, and expressed a doubt whether it
was a huge goat or a horned hog, these being the only
two species of quadrupeds they had ever seen." — Travel-
lers mention other instances where there is the same ten-
dency to classify, which we have not room to repeat
^ 84. Of the nature of general abstract ideas.
The notions which are thus formed in all cases of class-
ification, are commonly known, in the Treatises having
relation to these subjects, as General Abstract ideas.
And they are no less numerous than the multiphed varie-
ties of objects which are found to exist everywhere around
us. It is thus that we form the general notions of animal
and of all the subordinate species of animals ; of tree and
its numerous varieties ; of earths, and minerals, and what-
ever else is capable of being arranged into classes.
But it is to be noticed that the general idea, whatever
objects it may*be founded upon, does not embrace evei^y
particular which makes a part of such objects. When we
look at a number of men, we find them all differing in
some respects, in height, size, colour, tone of the voice, and
in other particulars. The mind fixes only upon those
traits or properties with which it can combine the no-
tion of resemblance ; that is to say, those traits, qualities,
or properties in which the individuals are perceived to be
like, or to resemble each other. — The complex mental
state, which embraces these qualities and properties, and
nothing more, (with the exception of the superadded
notion of other bodies having resembling quaUties,) is a
General Abstract idea.
. And hence the name. Such notions are called ab-
stract, because, while embracing many individuals in
certain respects, they detach and leave out altogether a
Tariety of particulars in which those individuals disagree
ABSTRACTION. 99
If there were not. this discrimination and leaving out of
certain parts, we never could consider, these notions, re-
garded as wholes, as otherwise than individual or partic-
ular. — ^They are called general, because, in consequence
of the discrimination and selection which has just been
mentioned, they embrace such qualities and properties as
exist not in one merely, but in many. ^
^ 85. The power of general abstraction in connexion with numbers, &c.
The ability which the mind possesses of forming gen-
eral abstract ideas, is of much practical importance. It is
not easy to estimate the increase of power which is thus
given to the action of the human mind, particularly in
reasoning. By means of general abstract propositions,
we are able to state volumes in a few sentences ; that is
to say, the truths, stated and illustrated in a few general
propositions, would fill volumes in their particular appli-
cations.
Without the ability of forming general notions, we
should not be able to number, even in the smallest de-
gree. Before we can consider objects as forming a mul-
titude, or are able to number them, it seems necessary to
be able to apply to them a common name. This we can-
not do until we have reduced them to a genus ; and the
formation of a genus implies the power (or process, rath-
er) of abstraction. Consequently, we should be unable,
without such power, to number. — How great, then, is the
practical importance of that intellectual process by which
general abstractions are formed ! — Without the abilitj^ to
number, we should be at a loss in our investigations
where this ability is required ; without the power to class-
ify, all our speculations must be limited to particulars, and
we should be capable of no general reasoning.
^86. Of general abstract truths or principles.
There are not only general abstract ideas, but abstract
Jyuths or principles also of a general nature, which are
deserving of some attention* especially in a practical
point of view\ Although enough has already been said
to show the importance of abstraction, it may yet be de-
sirable to have a more full view of its applications
100 ABSTKACTION.
The process, in forming general truths or principles of
an al ^'^^act nature, seems .o be this. We must begin
undouDcedly with the examination and study of particu-
lai's; with individual objects and characters, and with
insulated events. We subsequently confirm the truth of
whatever has been ascertained in such inquiry, by an ob-
servation of other like objects and events. We proceed
from one individual to another, till no doubt remains. —
Having in this w^ay arrived at some general fact or prin-
ciple, we thenceforward throw aside the consideration of
the particular objects on which it is founded, and make
it alone, exclusively and abstractly, the subject of our
mental contemplations. We repeat this process again
and again, till the mind, instead of being wholly taken
up with a multitude of particulars, is stored with truths
of a general kind. These truths it subsequently combines
in trains of reasoning, compares together, and deduces
from them others of still wider application.
<J 87. Of the speculations of philosophers and others.
What has been said leads us to observe, that there is a
characteristical difference betw^een the speculations of men
of philosophic minds and those of the common mass of
people, which is worthy of some notice. The difference
between the two is not so much, that philosophers are
accustomed to carry on processes of reasoning to a great-
er extent, as this, that they are more in the habit of em-
ploying general abstract ideas and general terms, and
tliat, consequently, the conclusions which they form are
more comprehensive, ^or are their general reasonings,
although the conclusions at which they arrive seem, in
their particular applications, to indicate wonderful fertil-
ity of invention, so difficult in the performance as is apt
to be supposed. They have so often and so long looked
at general ideas ^nd general propositions; have been so
accustomed, as one may say, to contemplate the general
nature of things, divested of all superfluous and all spe-
cific circumstances, that they have formed a habit ; and
the operation is performed without difficulty. It requires
m such persons no greater intellectual effort than would
be necessary in skilfully managing the details of ordinary
business.
OF ATTENTION. iOl
The speculations of the ^Teat bulk of mankind differ
from those of philosophers m being, both in the subjects
of them and in their results, particular. They discover
an inability to enlarge their view to universal propositions,
which embrace a great number of individuals. They may
possess the power of mere argument, of comparing propo-
sitions together which concern particulars, and deducing
inferences from them to a great degree ; but when they
attempt to contemplate general propositions, their minds
are perplexed, and the conclusions which are drawn from
them appear obscure, however clearly the previous pro-
cess of reasoning may have been expressed.
CHAPTER XL
OF ATTENTION.
^ 88. Of the general nature of attention.
Without considering it necessary to speak of attenboii
as a separate intellectual power or faculty, as some may
be inchned to do, it seems to be sufficient to say, that at-
tention expresses the state of the mind, when it is stead-
ily directed, for a length of time, to some object of sense
or intellect, exclusive of other objects. When we say
that any external object, or any subject of thought which
is purely internal, receives attention, it seems to be the
fact, as far as we are able to determine, that the intellect
is occupied with the subject of its attention, whatever it
is, for a certain period, and that all other things are, for
the time being, shut out In other words, the grasp which
the perceptive power fixes upon the object of its contem-
plations is an imdivided, an unbroken one. — But this
does not appear to be all. There is not only a distinct
•and exclusive mental perception ; but also an act of the
will, directing, condensing, and confining the perception.
So that, in all cases of attention, the act of the mind may
be regarded as a complex one, involving not only the
mere perception or series of perceptions, but also an act
12 .
108 or ATTENTION.
of the will, founded on some feeling* of desire or sentiment
of duty. It is the act of the will, prompted in general
by tiie feeling of desire or interest, which keeps the mind
intense and fixed in its position.
() 89. Of different degrees of attention.
In agreement wdth this view of the subject, we ojten
speak of attention as great or small, as existing in a very
high or a very slight degree. When the view of the mind
IS only momentary, and is unaccompanied, as it generally
is at such times, with any force of emotion or energy of
volitive action, then the attention is said to be slight.
When, on the contrary, the mind directs itself to an ob-
ject, or series of objects, with earnestness, and for a con-
siderable length of time, and refuses to attend to anything
else, then the attention is said to be intense.
We commonly judge at fltst of the degree of attention
to a subject from the length of time during which the
mind is occupied with it. But when we look a little
further, it will be found that the time vdW generally de-
pend upon the strength and permanency of the attendant
emotion of interest. And hence, both the time and the
degree of feeling are to be regarded in our estimate of
the power of attention in any particular case ; the former
being the result, and, in some sense, a measure of thf
latter.
Of instances of people who are able to give but slight
attention to any subject of thought, who cannot brinp
their minds to it with steadiness and power, we exery^
where find multitudes, and there are some instances where
this ability has been possessed in such a high degree as
to be worthy of notice. There have been mathematicians:
who could investigate the most complicated problems
amid every variety and character of disturbance. It was
said of Julius Caesar, that, while writing a despatch, he
could at the same time dictate four others to his secreta-
ries ; and if he did not write himself, could dictate seven
letters at once. The same thing is asserted also of the
Emperor Napoleon, who had a wonderful capability of
directing his whole mental energy to whatever came be-
fore him.*
• Seaur's ^ii^tor) of the Expedition to Russia, bk. vii., ch. xiii.
OF ATTENTION. 103
^ 90. Dependence of memory on attention.
There seems to be no doctrine in mental philosophy
more clearly established than this, that memory depends
on attention ; that is, where attention is very slight, re-
membrance is weak, and where attention is intense, re-
membrance continues longer. — ^There are many facts
which confirm this statement.
(1.) In the course of a single day, persons who are m
the habit of winking will close their eyelids perhaps
thousands of times, and, as often as they close them, will
place themselves in utter darkness. Probably they are
conscious at the time both of closing their eyelids and of
being in the dark ; but, as their attention is chiefly taken
up with other things, they have entirely forgotten it —
(2.) Let a person be much engaged in conversation, or
occupied with any very interesting speculation, and the
clock will strike in the room where he is, apparently
without his having any knowledge of it. He hears the
clock strike as much as at any other time, but, not at-
tending to the perception of sound, and having his
thoughts directed another way, he immediately forgets. —
(3.) In the occupations of the day, when a multitude of
cares are pressing us on every side, a thousand things
escape our notice ; they appear to be neither seen
nor heard, nor to affect us in any way whatever. But
at the stillness of evening, when anxieties and toils are
quieted, and there is a general pause in nature, we seem
to be endued with a new sense, and the slightest sound
attracts our attention. Shakspeare has marked even this
*' The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark
When neither is attended ; and, I think,
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren."
It is on the same principle that people dwelling in the
\ncinity of waterfalls do not appear to notice the sound.
The residents in the neighbourhood even of the great
K^ataract of Niagara are not geriously disturbed by it, al-
though it is an unbroken, interminable thunder to all
others. — The reason in all these cases is the same, as has
already been given. There is no attention and no re-
membrance, and, of course, virtually no perception.
(4.) Whenever we read a book, we do not observe
104 OF ATTENTION.
the words merely as a whole, but every letter of which
they are made up, and even the minute parts of these let-
ters. But it is merely a glance ; it does not for any
length of time occupy our attention ; we immediately
forget, and with great difficulty persuade ourselves that
we have truly perceived the letters of the word. The
fact that every letter is in ordinary cases observed by us,
may be proved by leaving out a letter of the word, or by
substituting others of a similar form. We readily, in
reading, detect such omissions or substitutions.
(5.) An expert accountant can sum up, almost with a
single glance of the eye, a long column of figures. The
operation is performed almost instantaneously, and yet he
ascertains the sum of the whole with unerring certainty.
It is impossible that he should learn the sum vvdthout no-
ticing every figure in the whole column, and without al-
lowing each its proper worth ; but the attention to them
was so very shght, that he is unable to remember this
distinct notice.
Many facts of this kind evidently show, as we think,
that memory depends upon attention, or rather upon a con-
tinuance of attention, and varies with that continuance.
^ 91. Of exercising attention in reading.
If attention, as we have seen, be requisite to memory,
then we are furnished with a practical rule of considera-
ble importance. The rule is, JVot to give a hasty and
careless reading of authors, hut read them with a suitable
degree of deliberation and thought. — If we are asked the
reason of this direction, we find a good and satisfactory
one in the fact referred to at the head of this section, .
that there cannot be memory without attention, or, rather,
that the power of memory will vary with the degree of
attention. By yielding to the desire of becoming ac^
quainted with a greater variety of departments of knowl-
edge than the understanding is able to master, and, as a
necessary consequence, by bestowing upon each of them
only a very slight attention, we remain essentially igno-
rant of the whole.
(1.) The person who pursues such a course finds him-
self unable to recall what he has been over ; he has a
p;reat many half-formed notions floating in his mind, but
OF ATTENTION. 106
these are so ill shaped and so little under his control as
to be but little better than actual ignorance. This is one
evil result of reading authors and of going over sciences
in the careless way w^hich has been specified, that the
knov^dedge thus acquired, if it can be called knowledge,
is of very little practical benefit, in consequence of being
so poorly digested and so little under control. — (2.) But
there is another, and perhaps more serious evil. This
]»ractice greatly disqualifies one for all intellectual pur-
suits. To store the mind with new ideas is only a part
of education. It is, at least, a matter of equal impor-
tance, to impart to all the mental powers a suitable disci-
pline, to exercise those that are strong, to strengthen
those that are weak, and to maintain among all of them
a suitable balance. An attentive and thorough examina-
tion of subjects is a tr^aining up of the mind in both these
respects. It furnishes it with that species of knowledge
which is most valuable, because it is not mixed up with
errors ; and, moreover, gives a strength and consistencj
to the whole structure of the intellect. Whereas, when the
mind is long left at liberty to wander from object to object,
without being called to account and subjected to the
rules of salutary discipline, it entirely loses, at last, the
ability to dwell upon the subjects of its thoughts, and ex-
amine them. And, when this power is once lost, there is
but httle ground to expect any solid attainments.
^ 92. Alleged inability to command the attention.
We are aware tha( "hose who, in accordance with
these directions, are required to make a close and thor-
ough examination of subjects, will sometimes complain
that they find a great obstacle in their inability to fix
their attention. They are not wanting in abihty to com-
prehend ; but find it difl[icult to retain the mind in one po-
sition so long as to enable them to connect together all the
parts of a subject, and duly estimate their various bear-
^gs. When this intellectual defect exists, it becomes a
new reason for that thorough examination of subjects,
which has been above recommended. It has probably
been caused by a nt gleet of such strictness of exami-
nation, and by a too rapid and careless transition from
one subject to anothpi
106 OF ATTENTION.
Attention, it will be recollected, expresses the state
of the minf' when it is steadily directed for some time,
whether loiiger or shorter, to some object of sense or in-
tellect, exclusive of other objects. All other objects are
shut out; and when this exclusion of everything else
continues for some time, the attention is said to be in-
tense. — Now it is well known that such an exclusive di-
rection of the mind cannot exist for any long period
without being accompanied with a feehng of desire or
of duty. In the greatest intellectual exertions, not the
mere powers of judging, of abstracting, and of reasoning
are concerned ; there will also be a greater or less move-
ment of the feelings. And it will be found that no feel-
ing will effectually confine the minds of men in scientific
pursuits, but a love of the truth.
Mr. Locke thought that the person who should discov-
er a remedy for wandering thoughts would do a great
service to the studious and contemplative part of man-
kind. We know of no other effective remedy than the
one just mentioned, a love of the truth, a desire to
know the nature and relations of things, merely for the
sake of knowledge. It is true, that a conviction of duty
will do much; ambition and interest may possibly do
more ; but when the mind is led to deep investigations
by these views merely, without finding something beauti-
ful and attractive in the aspect of knowledge itself, it is
likely to prove a tiresome process. The excellence of
knowledge, therefore, considered merely in the light of
its being suited to the intellectual nature of man, and as
the appropriate incentive and reward of intellectual ac-
tivity, ought to be frequently impressed. — " I saw D* Alem-
bert," says a recent waiter, " congratulate a young man
very coldly who brought him a solution of a problem.
The young man said, ' I have done this in order to have
a seat in the Academy.' ' Sir,' answered D'Alembert,
' with such dispositions you never will earn one. Sci-
ence must be loved for its own sake, and net for the ad-
vantage to be derived. No other principle will enable a
majj to make progress in the sciences !' "*
* Memoirs of Montlosier, vol. i., page 58, as quoted in Mackintosh'*
Ethical Philosophy, sect. vii.
DREAMINO Iff*
CHAPTER XII.
DREAMING.
^ 93. Definition of dreams and the prtva'-cn-'e of them.
Among numerous other subjects in rneiital philosophy
which claim their share of attention, tnat of Lreaming iis
entitled to its place ; nor can we be certain thai; any othei
will be found more appropriate to it than the present, es-
pecially when we consider how closely it is connec-ced in
all its forms with our sensations and conceptions. And
what are Dreams'? It approaches, perhaps, sufficiently
near to a correct general description to say, that they are
our mental states and operations while we are asleep.
But the particular views which are to be taken in the ex-
amination of this subject will not fail to throw light on _
this general statement.
The mental states and exercises which go under this
name have ever excited much interest. It is undoubt-
edly one reason of the attention, which the subject of our
dreams has ever elicited among all classes of people, that
they are so prevalent ; it being very difficult, if not im-
possible, to find a person who has not had more or less of
this experience. Mr. Locke, however, tells us of an in-
dividual who never dreamed till the twenty-sixth year of
his age, when he happened to have a fever, and then
dreamed for the first time. Plutarch also mentions one
Cleon, a friend of his, who lived to an advanced age, and
yet had never dreamed once in his life; and remarks that
he had heard the same thing reported of Thrasymedes.
Uncloubtedly these persons dreamed very seldom, as we
find that some dream much more than others ; but it is
possible that they may have dreamed at some time and
entirely forgotten it. So that it cannot with certainty be
Tnferred from such instances as these, that there are any
who are entirely exempt from dreaming.
^ 94. Connexion of dreams with our waking thoughts.
In giving an explanation of dreams, our attention 18
108 DREAJVUNG.
first arrested by the circumstance that Jthey have an inti-
mate relationship with our waking thoughts. The great
body of our Avaking experiences appear in the form of
trains of associations ; and these trains of associated ideas,
in greater or less continuity, and with greater or less > a-
riation, continue when we are asleep. — Condorcet (a
name famous in the history of France) told some one,
that, while he was engaged in abstruse and profound cal-
culations, he was frequently obliged to leave them in an
unfinished state, in order to retire to rest, and that the re-
maining steps and the conclusion of his calculations have
more than once presented themselves in his dreams. —
Franklin also has made the remark, that the bearings and
results of political events, which had caused him much
trouble while awake, were not unfrequently unfolded to
him in dreaming. — Mr. Coleridge says, that, as he was
once reading in the Pilgrimage of Purchas an account of
the palace and garden of the Khan Kubla, he fell into a
sleep, and in that situation composed an entire poem of
not less than two hundred lines, some of which he after-
ward committed to writing. The poem is entitled Kubla
Khan, and begins as follows :
" In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree ;
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea."
It is evident from such statements as these, which are
confirmed by the experience of almost every person, that
our dreams are fashioned from the materials of the thoughts
and feelings which we have while awake ; in other words,
they will, in a great degree, be merely the repetition of
our customary and prevailing associations. So w^ell un-
derstood is this, that President Edwards, who was no less
distinguished as a mental philosopher than as a theolo
gian, thought it a good practice to take particular notice
of his dreams, in order to ascertain from them what his
predominant inchnations were.
^ 95 Dreams are often caused by our sensations.
But while we are to look for the materials of our
dreams in thoughts which had previously existed, we
DREAMING. 109
further find that they are not beyond the influence of
those slight bodily sensations of which we are susceptible
even in houre of sleep. These sensations, slight as they
are, are the means of ifttroducing one set of associations
rather than another. — Dugald Stewart relates an incident
which may be considered an evidence of this, that a per
son with whom he was acquainted had occasion, in con-
sequence of an indisposition, to apply a bottle of hot water
to his feet when he went to bed, and the consequence
was, that he dreamed he was making a journey to the
top of Mount JEtna., and that he found the heat of the
ground almost insupportable. There was once a gentle-
man in the English army who was so susceptible of audi-
ble impressions while he was asleep, that his companions
could make him dream of what they pleased. Once, in
particular, they made him go through the whole process
of a duel, from the preliminary arrangements to the firing
of the pistol, which they put into his hand for that pur-
pose, and wriich, when it exploded, waked him.
A cause of dreams, closely allied to the above, is the
variety of sensations which we experience from the stom-
ach, viscera, &c. — Persons, for instance, who have been
for a long time deprived of food, or have received it only
in small quantities, hardly enough to preserve life, will be
likely to have dreams in some way or other directly re-
lating to their condition. Baron Trenck relates, that,
being almost dead with hunger when confined in his
dungeon, his dreams every night presented to him the
well-filled and luxurious tables of Berlin, from which, as
they were presented before him, he imagined he was
about to relieve his hunger. " The night had far advan-
ced," says Irving, speaking of the voyage of Mendez to
Hispaniola, " but those whose turn it was to take repose
were unable to sleep, from the intensity of their thirst ;
or if they slept, it was to be tantalized with dreams of
cool fountains and running brooks."
• The state of health also has considerable influence, not
only in producing dreams, but in giving them a particular
character. The remark has been made by medical men,
that acute diseases, particularly fevers, are often preceded
and indicated by disagreeable and oppressive dreams.
110 DREAMING
r
^ 96 Explanation of the incoherency of dreams (1st cause.;
Tiiere is frequently much of Avildness, inconsistency,
and contradiction in our dreams. The mind passes very
rapidly from one object to another ; strange and singular
incidents occur. If our dreams be truly the repetition of
our waking thoughts, it may well be inquired, How this
wildness and inconsistency happeh ?
The explanation of this peculiarity resolves itself into
two parts. — ^The first ground or cause of it is, that our
dreams are not subjected, like our waking thoughts, to
the control and regulation of surrounding objects. While
we are awake, our trains of thought are kept uniform and
coherent by the influence of such objects, which continu-
ally remind us of our situation, character, and duties;
and which keep in check any tendency to revery. But
in sleep the senses are closed ; the soul is accordingly, in
a great measure, excluded from the material world, and
is thus deprived of the salutary regulating influence from
that source.
^ 97. Second cause of the incoherency of dreams.
In the second place, when we are asleep, our associate i
trains of thought are no longer under the control of the
WILL. We do not mean to say that the operations of the
will are suspended at such times, and that volitions have
no existence. On the contrary, there is suflScient evidence
of the continuance of these mental acts, in some degree
at least ; since volitions must have made a part of the
original trains of thought which are repeated in dream-
ing ; and furthermore, we are often as conscious of exer-
cising or putting forth volitions when dreaming as of any
other mental acts ; for instance, imagining, remembering,
assenting, or reasoning. When we dream that we are
attacked by an enemy sword in hand, but happen, as we
suppose in our dreaming experiences, to be furnished in
self-defence with an instrument of the same kind, we
dream that we mill to exert it for our own safety and
against our antagonist ; and we as truly in this case put
forth the mental exercise which we term volition, as, in
any other, we exercise remembrance, or imagine, or reason
m our sleep.
DREAMING 111
Admitting, however, that the will continues to act in
sleep, it is quite evident that the volitions which are put
forth by it have ceased to exercise their customary influ-
ence in respect to our mental operations. Ordinarily we
are able, by means of an act of the will, to fix our atten-
tion upon some particular part of any general subject
which has been suggested, or to transfer it to some other
part of such subject, and thus to direct and to reflate
the whole train of mental action. But the moment we
are soundly asleep, this influence ceases, and hence, in
connexion with the other cause already mentioned, arise
the wildness, incoherency, and contradictions which exist.
A person, while he is awake, has his thoughts under
such government, and is able, by the direct and indirect
influence of volitions, so to regulate them as generally to
bring them in the end to some conclusion, which he fore-
sees and wishes to arrive at. But in dreaming, as all di-
recting and governing influence, both internal and exter-
nal, is at an end, our thoughts and feelings seem to be
driven forward, much like a ship at sea without a rudder,
wherever it may happen.
(J 98. Apparent reality of dreams. (1st cause.)
When objects are presented to us in dreams, we look
upon them as real ; and events, and combinations and se-
ries of events appear the same. We feel the same inter-
est and resort to the same expedients as in the perplexi-
ties and enjoyments of real life. When persons are intro-
duced as forming a part in the transactions of our dreams,
we see them clearly in their living attitudes and stature ;
we converse with them, and hear them speak, and be-
hold them move, as if actually present.
One reason of this greater vividness of our dreaming
conceptions and of our firm belief in their reality seems to
be this. The subjects upon which our thoughts are then
employed, occupy the mind exclusively. We can form a
clearer conception of an objec^wdth our eyes shut than we
can with them open, as any one will be convinced on ma-
king the experiment ; and the liveliness of the conception
will increase in proportion as w^e can suspend the exer-
cise of the other senses. In sound sleep, not only the
112 DREAMING.
sight, but the other senses also, may be said to be closed ;
and the attention is not continually diverted by the multi-
tude of objects, which arrest the hearing and touch when
we are awake. — It .is, therefore, a most natural supposi-
tion, that our conceptions must at sucn times be extreme-
ly vivid and distinct. 'At § 64 we particularly remarked
upon conceptions, or those ideas w^hich w^e have of absent
objects of perception, which possess this vividness of char-
acter. And it there appeared that they might be attend-
ed with a momentary belief even when we are awake.
But as conceptions exist in the mind when we are asleep
in a much higher degree distinct and vivid, what was in
the former case a momentary, becomes in the latter a per-
manent belief Hence everything has the appearance of
reality ; and the mere thoughts of the mind are virtual-
ly transformed into persons, and varieties of situation, and
events, which are regarded by us in precisely the same
light as the persons, and situations, and events of om
every day's experience.
<^ 99. Apparent reality of dreams. (2d cause )
A second circumstance w^hich goes to account for thr
fact that our dreaming conceptions have the appearance*
of reality is, that they are not susceptible of being con-
trolled, either directly or indirectly, by mere volition. —
We are so formed as almost invariably to associate reality
with whatever objects of perception continue to produce
in us the same effects. A hard or soft body, or any sub-
stance of a particular colour, or taste, or smell, are alw^ays,
when presented to our senses, followed by certain states
of mind essentially the same; and we yield the most
ready and firm belief in the existence of such objects.
In a word, we are disposed, from our very constitution, to
believe in the existence of objects of perception, the per-
ceptions -of which do not depend on the will, but w^hich
we find to be followed by certain states of the mind,
w^hether we choose it or not. — But it is to be recollected
that our dreaming thoughts are mere conceptions ; our
senses being closed and shut up, and external objects not
being presented to them. This is true. But if we con«
elude in favour of the real existence of objects of percep-
DREAMING. 113
tion, because they produce in us sensations independently
of our volitions, it is but natural to suppose that we shall
believe in the reality of our conceptions also whenever
they are in like manner beyond our voluntary control.
They are both merely states of the mind ; and if behef
always attends our perceptions, wherever we find them to
De independent of our choice, there is no reason why
conceptions, which are ideas of absent objects of percep-
tion, should not be attended with a like belief under the
same circumstances. — And essentially the same circum-
stances exist in dreaming ; that is, a train of conceptions
arise in the mind, and we are not conscious at such times
of being able to exercise any direction or control what-
ever over them. They exist, whether we will or not ; and
we regard them as real.
<J 100. Of our estimate of time in dreaming.
Our estimate of time in dreaming differs from that when
awake. Events which would take whole days or a lon-
ger time in the performance, are dreamed in a few mo-
ments. So wonderful is this compression of a multitude
of transactions into the very shortest period, that, w^hen
we are accidentally awakened by the jarring of a door
which is opened into the room where we are sleeping, we
sometimes dream of depredations by thieves or destruction
by fire in the very instant of our awaking. — " A friend of
mine," says Dr. Abercrombie, " dreamed that he crossed
the Atlantic, and spent a fortnight in America. In em-
barking on his return, he fell into the sea ; and, having
awoke with the fright, discovered that he had not been
asleep above ten minutes." Count Lavallette, who some
years since w^as condemned to death in France, relates a
dream w^hich occurred during his imprisonment as fol-
lows. " One night while I was asleep, the clock of th^
Palais de Justice .struck twelve and awoke me. I heard the
gate open to relieve the sentry ; but I fell asleep again im-
• mediately. In this sleep I dr§amed that I was standing in
the Rue St. Honore, at the corner of the Rue de I'Echelle.
A melancholy darkness spread around me ; all was still ;
nevertheless, a low and uncertain sound soon arose. All
of a sudden, I perceived at the bottom of the street, and
K2
114 DREAMINO.
advancing towards me, a troop of cavalry, the men and
horses, however, all flayed. This horrible troop continu-
ed passing in a rapid gallop, and casting frightful looks
on me. Their march, I thought, continued for five hours;
and they were followed by an immense number of artdle-
ry- wagons full of bleeding corpses, whose limbs still quiver-
ed ; a disgusting smell of blood and bitumen almost choked
me. At length, the iron gate of the prison shutting wutl;.
great force, aw'oke me again. I made my repeater strike ;
it was no more than midnight, so that the horrible phan-
tasmagoria had lasted no more than two or three minutes ;
that is to say, the time necessary for relieving the sentry
and shutting the gate. The cold was severe and the
watchword short. The next day the turnkey confirmed
my calculations."
Our dreams will not unfrequently go through all the
particulars of some long journey, or of some military ex-
pedition, or of a circumnavigation of the globe, or of oth-
er long and perilous undertakings, in a less number of
hours than it took weeks, or months, or even years in the
actual performance of them. We go from land to land,
and from city to city, and into desert places ; we experi-
ence transitions from joy to sorrow and from poverty to
wealth ; Ave are occupied in the scenes and transactions
of many long months ; and then our slumbers are scatter-
ed, and behold, they are the doings of a fleeting watch of
the night !
^ 101. Explanation of the preceding statements.
This striking circumstance in the history of our dreams
is generally explained by supposing that our thoughts, as
they successively occupy the mind, are more rapid than
while we are awake. But their rapidity is at all times
very great ; so much so, that, in a few moments, crowds
of ideas pass through the mind which it would take a
long time to utter, and a far longer time would it take to
perform all the transactions which they concern. This
explanation, therefore, is not satisfactory, for our thoughts
are oftentimes equally rapid in our waking moments.
The true reason, we apprehend, is to be found in those
preceding sections which took under examination the ap-
DREAMING. 116
parent reality of dreams. Our conceptions in dreaming
are considered by us real ; every thought is an action ;
every idea is aa event ; and successive states of mind are
successive actions and successive events. He who in his
sleep has the conception of all the particulars of a long
military expedition or of a circumnavigation of the globe,
seems to himself to have actually experienced all the
various and multiplied fortunes of the one and the other.
Hence what appears to be the real time in dreams, but is
only the apparent time, will not be that which is suffi-
cient for the mere thought, but that which is necessary for
the successive actions.
" Something perfectly analogous to. this may be re-
marked," says Mr. Stewart, " in the perceptions we ob-
tain by the sense of sight.* "When I look into a show-
box where the deception is imperfect, I see only a set of
paltry daubings. of a few inches in diameter ; but if the
representation be executed with so much skill as to con*
vey to me the idea of a distant prospect, every object
before me swells in its dimensions in proportion to the
extent of space which I conceive it to occupy ; and what
seemed before to be shut within the hmits of a small
wooden frame, is magnified in my apprehension to an
immense landscape of woods, rivers, and mountains.''
'"' Stewart's Elements, chapter on Dreaming.
MENTAL PHILOSOPHY
DIVISION FIRST.
THE INTELLECT OR UNDERSTANDING.
INTELLECTIVE OB INTELLECTUAL STATES OF THE MIND.
PART SECOND.
INTELLECTUAL STATES OF INTERNAL ORIGIN.
CHAPTER I.
INTERNAL ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE.
$ 102. The soul has fountains of knowledge within.
We have traced the history of the mind thus far vvitb
continued and increased satisfaction, because we have
been guided solely by well-known facts, without any de-
sire of exciting wonder by exaggeration, and with no
other feeling than that of knowing the truth. With cau-
tious endeavours not to trespass upon those limits which
the Creator himself has set to our inquiries, we have seen
the mind placed in the position of a necessary connexion
with the material world through the medium of the
senses, and in this way awakened into life, activity, and
power. Inanimate matter seems to have been designed
and appointed by Providence as the handmaid and nurse
of the mind in the days of its infancy ; and for that pur-
pose to have been endued with form, fragrance, and
colour. Material eyes were given to the soul, (not made
a part of its nature, but assigned to it as an instrumental
and auxiliary agent,) that it might see; and material
hands, that it might handle ; and hearing, that it might
hear. By means of these and other senses we become
acquainted with whatever is visible and tangible, and has
outline and form ; but there are also inward powers of
perception, hidden fountains of knowledge, \vhich open
themselves and flow up in the remote and secret places
of the soul. In other words, the soul finds knowledge in
itself which neither sight, nor touch, nor hearing, nor any
other sense, nor any outward forms of matter, could give.
" The natural progress of all true learning," says the
author of Hermes, " is trom sense to intellect." Having
begun with the senses, and first considered the sensations
and ideas which we there receive, we are next to enter
^ore exclusively into the mij^d itself, and to explore the
fruitful sources of knowledge which are internal. And
in thus doing, it Is a satisfaction to know that we are
lA) INTERNAL ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE.
treading essentially in the steps of Mr. Locke, whose
general doctrine undoubtedly is, that a part of our ideas
only may be traced to the senses, and that the origin of
others is to be sought wholly in the intellect itself.
^ 103. Declaration of Locke, that the soul has knowledge in itself.
After alluding to the senses as one great source of
knowledge, " the other fountain," says Locke, " from
which experience furnisheth the understanding with ideas,
is the perception of the operations of our own minds
within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got ;
which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on and
consider, do furnish the understanding with another set
of ideas, which could not be had from things without, and
such are perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reason-
ing, knowing, willing, and all the di^rent actings of our
own minds, which, we being conscious of, and observing
in ourselves, do from these receive into our understand-
ings ideas as distinct as we do from bodies affecting our
senses. This source of ideas every man has wholly with-
in himself. And though it be not sense, as having no-
thing to do w^ith EXTERNAL objccts, yet it is very like it,
and might properly enough be called internal sense.
But as I call the other Sensation, so I call this Reflection ;
the ideas it affords being such only as the mind gets by
reflecting on its own operations within itself."
^ 104. The beginning of knowledge is in the senses.
In order to have a clear understanding of the particu-
lar topic before us, let us briefly advert to certain general
views, already more or less attended to, having a con-
nexion with it. In making the human soul a subject of
inquiry, it is an obvious consideration that a distinction
may be drawn between the soul contemplated in itself,
and its acts or states, or the knowledge which it possess-
es. The inquiry, therefore, naturally arises, Under what
circumstances the acquisition of knowledge begins ?
Now this is the very question which has already been
considered; nor can it be deemed necessary to repeat
here the considerations which have been brought up in
reference to it. It is enough to express our continued re-
INTERNAL ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDOiS 121
hance.on the general experience and testimony of man
kind, so far as it is possible to ascertain them on a subject
of so much difficulty, that the beginnings of thought and
knowledge are immediately subsequent to certain affec-
tions of those bodily organs which we call the senses. In
other words, were it not for impressions on the senses,
which may be traced to objects external to them, our
mental capabilities, whatever they may be, would in all
probability have remained folded up, and have never
been redeemed from a state of fruitless inaction. — Hence
the process which is implied in the perception of external
things, or what is commonly termed by Mr. Locke sensa-
tion, may justly be considered the occasion or the intro-
ductory step to all our knowledge.
^ 105. There may also be internal accessions to knowledge.
But it does not follow from this, nor is it by any means
true, that the whole amount of knowledge in its ultimate
progress is to be ascribed directly to an external source.
All that can be said with truth is, that the mind receives
the earliest part of its ideas by means of the senses, and
that, in consequence of having received these elementary
thoughts, all its powers become rapidly and fully opera-
tive. — And here we come to the second great source of
knowledge. The powers of the mind being thus fairly
brought into exercise, its various operations then furnish
us with another -set of notions, which, by way of distin-
guishing them from those received through the direct
mediation of the senses, may be called, in the language
of Mr. Locke, ideas of reflection, or, to use a phraseology
embracing all possible cases, ideas of internal origin,
These two sources of human thought, the Internal and
External, however they may have been confounded by
some writers, are entirely distinct. The ideas which arise
in the mind, solely from the fact of the previous existence
of certain mental operations, could not have been sug-
•gested by anything which takes place in the external
world independently of those operations. Of this last
class, some instances, with illustrations of the §ame, may
properly be mentioned here.
L
122 INTERNAL ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE.
(} 106. Instances of notions which have an internal origin.
Among other notions which are to be ascribed to the
second great source, are those expressed by the terms
THINKING, DOUBTING, BELIEVING, and CERTAINTY. It is 3
matter of internal observation, (that is, of consciousness
or of reflection, which are synonymous with internal ob-
servation,) that the mind does not, and cannot* for any
length of time, remain inactive. Hence there is occasion
given for the origin of that idea which we denominate
THINKING. The notion which we thus denominate is fra-
med by the mind under these circumstances ; the name is
given, and nobody is ignorant as to what is meant. But
then it is to be remarked that its origin is wholly internal ;
it is not an object of touch, or taste, or sight ; it is to be
ascribed to the mind itself alone, and to its inherent ac-
tivity, unaided by the senses, or by anything operating
upon them.
Again, in the examination of some topic which is pro-
posed for discussion, a proposition is stated with little oi
no evidence attending it, and the mind, in reference to
that proposition, is brought into a position to which we
give the name of doubting. It is by no means easy, or
rather it is impossible, to trace this idea directly to the
senses. All w^e can say of it is, that it has its origin
within, and necessarily exists immediately subsequent to
certain other mental states of which we are conscious.
But then, in ♦his very instance, if the evidence be con-
siderably increased, the mental estimation which we form
is altered in regard to it, and to this new state of the mind
we give the name of belief or believing. And in case the
evidence of the proposition is of a higher and more deci
ded character, there then arises another state of the mind
which we denominate certainty.
^ 107. Other instances of ideas which have an internal origin.
The ideas of right and wrong, of unity and nuinber, n
time and space, order, proportion, similitude, truth, wu
dom, power, oliligation, succession, cause, effect, aiid
many others, have a like origin; at least there are n<»ae
of them to be ascribed directly and exclusively to the
senses. — ^It is cheerfully granted that, in determining this
ORIGINAL SUGGESTION. 123
point, it is proper to refer to the common experience of
mankind, and to rely upon it. But it is believed in all
these instances, (certainly in the most of them,) such a
reference will be amply decisive.
Let it then be left to the candid internal examination
of each individual to determine, Whether a distinction
be not rightly drawn between the origin of these ideas
and that of those which we attribute to the senses, such
as red, blue, sweet, fragrant, bitter, hard, smooth, loud,
soft, extended, &c. ? On this question it is thought that,
in general, there can be but one answer, although some
writers, through the love of excessive simplification, have
been betrayed into error in regard to it.
Hence it is distinctly to be kept in mind, that there are
two sources of thought and knowledge. An affection of
the senses by means of external objects is the immediate
occasion of one portion ; the constitution of the mind and
its operations are the occasions or source of the other.
Those notions which can be ascribed directly to any one
of the senses as their specific source, 'and not merely as
an indirect and general occasion of their origin, are Ex-
ternal, while all others seem to be entitled to be called
Internal.
CHAPTER n
ORIGINAL SUGGESTION
() 108. Import of suggestion, and its application in Reid and Stewart.
Some of the cases of thought and knowledge which the
mind becomes possessed of in itself, without the direct
aid of the senses, are to be ascribed to Suggestion. Thij
word, in its application here, is used merely to express a
simple but important fact, viz., that the mind, by its owii
activity and vigour, gives rise to certain thoughts. With-
out any mixture of hypothesis or any qualifying intima
tion whatever, it gives the fact, and that is all. The use
of this word, as applicable to the origin of a portion oi
human knowledge, is distinctly proposed by Dr. Reid
124 ORIGINAL BUGGESTION.
In his Inquiry into the Human Mind, (ch. ii., § vii.,) he
speaks of certain notions (for instance, those of existence,
mind, person, &c.) as the "judgments of nature, judg-
ments not got by comparing ideas, and perceiving agree-
ments and disagreements, but immediately inspired by
our constitution." Pursuing this train of thought, he
ascribes those notions which cannot be attiibuted directly
to the senses on the one hand, nor to the reasoning power
on the other, to an internal or mental Suggestion, as fol-
lows. — " I beg leave to make use of the word suggestion,
because I know not one more proper, to express a power
of the mind which seems entirely to have escaped the
aotice of philosophers, and to which we owe many of our
simple notions."
Mr. Stewart also, in his Philosophical Essays, speaks
of certain mental phenomena as attendant upon the ob-
jects of our consciousness, and as suggested by them.
The notions of time, number, motion, memory, sameness,
personal identity, present existence, &c., he ascribes nei-
ther to the external" w^orld on the one hand, nor the in-
ternal mental operations, of which we are conscious, on
the other; except so far as they are the occasions on
which the mind brings them out, or suggests them from
its own inherent energy. Of the notion of duration, for
instance, he would say, I do not see it, nor hear it, nor
feel it, nor become acquainted with it by means of any
olher of the senses; nor am I conscious of it, as I am of
believing, reasoning, imagining, &c., but it is suggested
by the mind itself; it is an intimation absolutely essential
to the mind's nature and action.
^ 109. Ideas of existence, mind, seif-existence, and personal identity.
We shall now mention a few ideas which have this ori-
gin, without undertaking to give a complete enumeration
of them. (I.) Existence. Among the various notions,
the origin of which naturally requires to be considered
under the head of Suggestion, is that of Existence. What
existence is in itself, (that is to say, independently of
any existent being,) it would be useless to inquire. Using
the word as expressive of a mental state, it is the name
of a purely simple idea, and cannot be defined. The
ORIGINAL SUGGESTION. W&
history of its rise is briefly this. Such is our nature that
we cannot exist, without having the notion of existence.
So that the origin of the idea of existence is inseparable
from the mere fact, that we have a percipient and sen-
tient nature. An insentient being may exist without hav-
ing any such idea. But man, being constituted VQih
powers of perception, cannot help perceiving that he is
what he is. If we think, then there is something which
has this capabiHty of thought ; if we feel, then there is
not only the mere act of feeling, but something also which
puts forth the act.
(II.) Mind. The origin of the notion of Mind is sim-
ilar to that of existence. Neither of them can be strict-
ly and properly referred to the senses. We do not see
the mind, nor is it an object of touch, or of taste, or of
any other sense. Nor, on the other hand, is the notion
of mind a direct object of the memory, or of reasoning,
or of imagination. The notion arises naturally, or is
SUGGESTED from the mere fact that the mind actually ex-
ists, and is susceptible of various feelings and operations.
— rThe same may be said of all the distinct powers of the
mind, such as the power of perception, of memoiy, of
association, of imagination, of the will ; not of the acts
or exercises of these powers, it will be noticed, but of
the powers themselves. That is to say, they are made
known to us, considered abstractly and as distinct subjects
of thought, not by direct perception, either inward or
outward, but by spontaneity or suggestion. We say, not
by direct perception, because there is something interme-
diate between the power and the knowledge of it, viz.,
the act or exercise of the power, which is the occasion of
the knowledge of the power itself. The principle of
Original Suggestion, availing itself of this occasion, gives
us a knowledge of the distinct susceptibilities of the
mind, just as it does of the mind as a whole.
(III.) Similar remarks, as far as spontaneity is con-
cerned, will apply to the notions (whether we consider
them as simple or complex) of self-existence and per-
sonal IDENTITY. At the very earliest period they flow
out, as it were, from the mind itself; not resulting from
BJiy prolonged and laborious process, but freely and spon-
L2
t95 ORIGINAL SUGGESTION.
taneously suggested by it. This is so true, that no one is
able to designate either the precise time or the precise
circumstances under which they originate ; for they spring
into being under all circumstances. We cannot look, or
touch, or breathe, or move, or think without them.
These are products of our mental nature too essential and
important to be withheld, or to be given only on rare
and doubtful occasions ; but are brought into existence in
all times and places, and under all the varieties of action
and feeling.
^ 110, Of the nature of unity, and the origin of that notion
Another important notion, properly entitled to a con-
sideration here, is that of unity. We shall decline at-
tempting to explain the nature of unity, for the simple
reason that nothing is more easy to be understood ; every
cliild knows what is meant by One» And how can we
explain it, if we would 1 We can explain a hundred by
resolving it into parts ; we can explain fifty or a score
by making a like separation of the whole number into
the subordinate portions of which it is made up ; but
when we arrive at unity, we must stop, and can go no
further.
It is true, attempts have been made to define it ; but,
like many other such attempts, they have proved futile.
Unity has been called a thing indivisible in itself, and di-
vided from everything else. But this makes us no wiser.
Is it anything more than to say that the unity of an ob-
ject is its indivisibihty 1 Or, in, other words, that its unity
IS its unity 7
As the idea of unity is one of the simplest, so it is one
of the earliest notions which men have. It originates in
the same way, and veiy nearly at the same time, w4th the
notions of existence, self-existence, personal identity, and
the like. When a man has a notion of himself, he evi-
dently does not think of himself as two, three, or a dozen
men, but as one. As soon as he is able to think of him-
self as distinct from his neighbour, as soon as he is in
no danger of mingling and confounding his own identity
with that of the multitude around him, so soon does he
form the notion of unity. It exists as distinct in his
ORIGINAL SUGGESTION. 127
mind as the id 3a of his own existence does; and arises
there immediately successive to that idea, because it is
impossible, in the nature of things, that he should have a ,
notion of himself as a twofold or divided person.
Unity is the fundamental element of all enumeration.
By the repetition or adding of this element, we are able
to form numbers to any extent. These numbers may be
combined among themselves, and employed merely as
expressive ot mutual relations, or we may apply them, if
we choose, to all external objects whatever, to which we
are able to give a common name.
^111. Nature of succession, and origin of the idea of succession.
Another of those conceptions which naturally offer
themselves to our notice here, is that of succession. This
term (when we inquire what succession is in itself) is one
of general application, expressive of a mode of exist-
ence rather than of existence itself; and in its appli-
cation to mind in particular, expressive of a condition
of the mind's action, but not of the action itself, which
that condition regulates. It is certainly a fact too well
known to require comment, that our minds exist at differ-
ent periods in successive states ; that our thoughts and
feelings, in obedience to a permanent law, follow each
other in a train. This is the simple fact. And the fact
of such succession, whenever it takes place, forms the oc-
casion on which the notion or idea of succession is sug-
gested to the mind. Being a simple mental state, it is
not susceptible of definition ; yet every man possesses it,
and every one is rightly supposed to understand its na-
ture.
Accordingly, it is not necessary to refer the origin of
this idea to anything external. It is certain, that the
sense of smell cannot directly give us the idea of succes-
sion, nor the sense of taste, nor of touch. And we well
know that the deaf and dumb possess it not less than
•others. The blind also, who have never seen the face of
heaven, nor beheld that sun and moon which measure
out for us days, and months, and years, have tl^e notion
of succession. They feel, they think, they reason, at
least m some small degree, like other men ; and it is im-
128 ORIGINAL SUGOESTION.
possible that they should be without it. The origin,
therefore, of this notion is within ; it is the unfailing re-
sult 01 the inward operation to call it forth, however true
it may be, that it is subsequently applied to outward ob-
jects and events.
^ 112. Origin of the notion of duration.
There is usually understood to be a distinction betweec
the idea of succession and that of duration, though nei-
ther can be defined. The idea of succession is suppo-
sed to be antecedent in point of time to that of duration
(we speak now of succession and duration relatively to
our conception of them, and not in themselves consider-
ed.) Duration must be supposed to exist antecedently .to
succession in the order of nature ; but succession is the
form in which it is made to apply to men ; and is, there-
fore, naturally the occasion on which the idea of it arises
in men's minds. Having the notion of succession, and
that of personal or self-existence, a foundation is laid for
the additional conception of permanency or duration ; in
other words, it naturally arises in the mind, or is suggest-
ed under these circumstances.
As we cannot, according to this view of its origin,
have the notion of duration without succession, hence it
happens that we know nothing of duration when we are
perfectly asleep, because we are not then conscious
of those intellectual changes which are involved in
succession. If a person could sleep wdth a perfect sus-
pension of all his mental operations from this ,time until
the resurrection, the whole of that period would appear
to him as nothing. Ten thousand years passed under
such circumstances would be less than a few days, or
even hours.
<J 113. Illustrations of the nature of duration.
That the notion of succession (we do not say succes-
sion itself, but only our notion or idea of it) is antecedent
to, and is essential to that of duration, is in some measure
proved by various facts. There are on record a number
of cases of remarkable somnolency, in which persons
have slept foi weeks and even months. One of the most
ORIGINAL SUGGESTION. 129
striking is that of Samuel Chilton, a labourer of Tins-
bury, near Bath in England. On one occasion, in the
year 1696, he .slept from the ninth of April to the seventh
of August, about seventeen weeks, being kept alive by
small quantities of wine poured down his throat. He
then awoke, dressed himself, and walked about the room,
" being perfectly unconscious that he had slept more than
one night. Nothing, indeed, could make him believe
that he had slept so long, till, upon going to the fields, he
saw crops of barley and oats re^dy for the sickle, which
he remembered were only sown when he last visited
them." — In the proceedings of the French Royal Acade-
my of Sciences in 1719, there is also a statement, illustra-
tive of the subject under consideration, to the following
effect. There was in Lausanne a nobleman, who, as he
was giving orders to a servant, suddenly lost his speech
and all his senses. — Different remedies were tried, but, for
a very considerable time, without effect. For six months
he appeared to be in a deep sleep, unconscious of every-
thing. At the end of that period, however, resort having
been had to certain surgical operations, he was suddenly
restored to his speech and the exercise of his understand-
ing. When he recovered, the servant to whom he had
been giving orders happening to be in the room, he ask-
ed him if he had done what he had ordered him to do,
not being sensible that any interval, except perhaps a
very short one, had elapsed during his illness.
(J 114. Of time and its measurements, and of eternity.
When dm-ation is estimated or measured, then we call
it Time. Such measurements, as every one is aware, are
made by means of certain natural or artificial motions.
The annual revolution of the sun (using language in ac-
cordance with the common apprehensions on the subject)
marks off the portion of duration which we call a year ;
the revolution of the moon marks off another portion,
^iiich we call a month ; the diurnal revolution of the sun
gives us the period of a d^ ; the movements of the
hands over the face of a clock or watch give the dimin-
ished durations of hours and minutes. This is time, which
differs from duration only in the circumstance of its being
measured.
iSO ORIGWAL SUGGESTION.
What we :al] Eternity is only a modified or imperfect
time, or, rather, time not completed. We look back over
the months, and days, and years of our former existence ;
we look forward and onward, and behold ages crowding
on ages, and time springing from time. And in this way
we are forcibly led to think of time unfinished, of time
progressive but never completed ; and to this complex
notion we give the name of Eternity.
^ 115. The idea of space not of external origin.
Another of those notions, the origin of which we pro-
pose to consider under the head of Suggestion, is the idea
of SPACE. — If this idea were of external origin, if it could
properly be said to come into the mind by the way of sen-
sation, we should be able to make such a reference of it.
But let us inquire. It will evidently not be pretended
that the notion of space is to be ascribed to the senses of
taste, of smell, or of hearing. And can it be ascribed to
the sense of touch ? Is it a matter of feeling ? A sin-
gle consideration will suggest a satisfactory answer. It
will certainly be acknowledged, that we can have no
knowledge, by the sense of touch, (with the single excep-
tion, perhaps, of the sensations of heat and cold which
are commonly ascribed to itj) of anything which does
not present some resistance. The degree of resistance
may greatly vary, but there will always be some. But
no one will undertake to say that resistance is a quality
of space, or enters in any way into his notion of it.
Nor are there less obvious objections to regarding it as
a direct object of sight. The sense of sight gives us no
direct knowledge of anything but colours ; all other vis-
ual perceptions are original in the sense of touch, and are
made the property of the sight by transference. No one
Certainly ever speaks of space as red or white, or of any
other colour, or conceives of it as such.
There is another consideration, adverse to ascribing the
idea of space to the senses, applicable equally to the sight
and the touch. Everything coming within the cogni-
zance of those two senses, (with the exception already
alluded to,) has form, limits, bounds, place, &c. But the
ic^ea to which we are now attending is utterly exclu§ive
ORIGINAL SUGGESTION. 131
of everything of this nature ; it is not susceptible of cu^-
cumscription and figure: So far from it, when we escape
beyond the succession of circumscribed and insulated ob-
jects, we have but just entered within its empire. If w^e
let the mind range forth beyond the forms immediately
surrounding us, beyond the w^orld itself, beyond all the
systems of worlds in the universe ; if we stand in our con-
ception on the verge of the remotest star, and look down-
ward and upward, it is then the idea of space rushes
upon the mind with a power before unknown. — These
considerations clearly lead to Ae conclusion, that the no-
tion of space is not susceptible of being ascribed directly
to sensation in any of its forms, and is not, in the proper
sense of the terms, of external origin.
i} 116. The idea of space has its origin in suggestion.
What, then, shall we say of the origin of the notion ol
space ? When pressed on this point we have but one
answer to give ; it is the natural offspring of the mind ;
it is a creation of the soul, wholly inseparable from its el-
ementary constitution and action ; an intimation coming
from an interior and original impulse. — It remains to be
added, that, while we cannot directly refer the notion in
question to the senses, but must ascribe its origin to the
suggestive principle, we cannot even state with certainty
any particular occasion on which it arises, for we have the
notion at a period further back than we can remember.
On this point, however, it is undoubtedly true, that we
may advance opinions more or less probable. It is, for
instance, a supposition not altogether worthiest, that mo-
tion may have been the original occasion of the rise of
this idea. At an early period we moved the hand, either
to grasp something removed at a little distance, or in the
mere playful exercise of the muscles, or perhaps we trans-
ferred the whole body from one position to another ; and
it is at least no impossibility, that on such an occasion the
^dea of space may have been called forth in the soul.
But there is another suppoi^ion still more entitled to
notice. Our acquaintance with external bodies, by means
of the senses, may have been the occasion of its rise, al-
though the senses themselves are not its direct source, ll
132 ORIGINAL SUGGESTION.
is certain that we cannot contemplate any body whatever,
an apple, a rose, a tree, a house, without always finding
the idea of space a ready and necessary concomitant.
We cannot conceive of a body which is nowhere. So
that we may at least date the origin of the idea of
space as early as our acquaintance with any external body
whatever. In other words, it is a gift of the mind, made
simultaneously with its earliest external perceptions.
<§ 117. Of the origin of the idea of power.
Under the head of Suggestion the idea of power prop-
erly belongs. Every man has this notion; every one
feels, too, that there is a corresponding reality ; in other
words, power' is not only a mere subject of thought, but
has, in some important sense, a real existence. And we
may add, that every one knows, although there is some-
where a great original fountain of power, independent of
all created beings, that he has a portion (small indeed it
may be, but yet a portion) of the element of power in
his own mind and in his own person. There is indeed a
Power, unexplored and invisible, which has reared the
mountains, which rolls the ocean, and which propels the
sun in his course ; but it is nevertheless true, that man,
humble as he is in the scale* of rational and accountable
beings, possesses, as an attribute of his ow^n nature, an
amount of real efficiency, suited to the limited sphere
which Providence has allotted him. This is a simple
statement of the fact. Power goes hand in hand with
existence, intelligence, and accountability. There is no
existence, either intelligent or unintelligent, without pow-
er, either in the thing itself, or in something else which
sustains it. There is no accountable existence without
power, existing in and participating in such existence,
and constituting the basis of its accountability.
(j lis. Occasions of the origin of the idea of power.
But the principal question here is, not what power is
in itself, nor whether man possesses power in fact, but
under what circumstances the notion or idea of power
arises in the human mind. The occasions of the origin
of this idea, so far as we are able to judge, appear to be
ORIGINAL SUGGESTION. 133
threefold. — (1.) All cases of antecedence and sequence
in the natural world. We are so constituted, that, in
connexion with such cases of antecedence and sequence,
we are led at a veiy early period of life to frame the
proposition and to receive it as an undeniable truth, that
there can be no beginning or change of existence wJthout
a cause. This proposition involves the idea of efficiency
or power. — (2.) The control of the will over the muscu-
lar action. We are so constituted, that, whenever we will
to put a part of the body in motion, and the motion fol-
lows the volition, we have the idea of power. — (3.) The
control of the will over the other mental powers. Within
certain limits and to a certain extent, there seems to be
ground for supposing that the will is capable of exercising
a directing control over the mental as well as over the
bodily powers. And whenever we are conscious of such
control being exercised, whether it be greater or less, oc-
casion is furnished for the origin of this idea. It is then
called forth or suggested. It i^ not seen by the material
eye, nor reached by the sense of touch ; but, emerging of
itself from the mind, like a star from the depths of the
firmament, it reveals itself distinctly and brightly to the
intellectual vision.
^ 119. Of the ideas of right and wrong.
Right and Wrong also are conceptions of the pure Un-
derstanding ; that is, of the Understanding operating in
virtue of its own interior nature, and not as dependent on
the senses. W^e are constituted intellectually in such a
manner, that, whenever occasions of actual right or wrong
occur, whenever objects fitted to excite a moral approval
or disapproval are presented to our notice, the ideas of
RIGHT and WRONG naturally and necessarily arise within
us. In respect to these ideas or intellections, (if we
choose to employ an expressive term partially fallen into
disuse,) Cudworth, Stewart, Cousin, and other writers of
^knowledged discernment and weight, appear to agree
in placing the origin of them* here. And this arrange-
ment of them is understood to be important in connexion
with the theory of Morals. If these ideas originate in the
pure intellect, and are simple, as they obviously are, then
M
134 ORIGINAL SUGGESTION.
each of them necessarily has its distinctive nal ure , each
of them is an entity by itself; and it is impossible to con-
ceive of them as identical or interchangeable with each
other. They are as truly unlike as our conceptions of
unity and time, or of space and 'power. And if this is
true of our ideas of right and wrong, it is not less so of
right and wrong themselves. In other words, right can
never become wrong, nor wrong right ; they are placed
for ever apart, each occupying its own sphere ; and thus
we have a foundation laid for the important doctrine of
the immutability of moral distinctions. — " The distinction
between right and wrong," says Cousin, (Psychology,
ch. V.,) " may be incorrectly applied, may vary in regard
to particular objects, and may become clearer and more
correct in time, without ceasing to be with all men the
same thing at the bottom. It is a universal conception
of Reason, and hence it is found in all languages, those
products and faithful images of the mind. — Not only is
this distinction universal, but it is a necessary conception.
In vain does the reason,^ after having once received, at-
tempt to deny it, or call in question its truth. It cannot.
One cannot at will regard the same action as just and
tinjust. These two ideas baffle every attempt to commute
them, the one for the other. Their objects may change,
but never their nature."
<J 120. Origin of the ideas of moral merit and demerit.
Closely connected with the ideas of right and wrong
are the ideas of moral merit and demerit. In the order
of nature, (what is sometimes called the logical order,)
the ideas of right and wrong come first. Without pos-
sessing the antecedent notions of right and wrong, it
would be impossible for us to frame the ideas of moral
merit and demerit. For what merit can we possibly at-
tach to him in whom we discover no rectitude ? or what
demerit in him in whom we discover no want of it?
Merit always implies virtue as its antecedent and neces-
sary condition, while demerit as certainly implies the
want of it, or vice. Although the ideas of merit and de-
merit, in consequence of being simple, are undefinable,
there can be no doubt of thek existence, and of their
. ORIGINAL SUGGESTION. 135
being entirely clear to our mental perception; and that
they furnish a well-founded and satisfactory basis for
many of our judgments in respect to the moral character
and conduct of mankind.
^ 121t Of other elements of knowledge developed in suggestion.
In giving an account of the ideas from this source, we
h^ve preferred as designative of their origin the term
SUGGESTION, proposcd and employed by Reid and Stew-
art, to the word reason, proposed by Kant, and adopted
by Cousin and some other writers, as, on the whole, more
conformable to the prevalent usage of the English lan-
guage. In common parlance, and by the established
usage of the language, the word reason is expressive of
the deductive rather than of the suggestive faculty ; and
if we annul or perplex the present use of that word by a
novel application of it, we must introduce a new word to
express the process of deduction. Whether we are cor-
rect in this or not, we shall probably find no disagree-
ment or opposition in asserting, not only the existence,
but the great importance of the intellectual capability
which we have been considering. The thing, and the
nature of the thing, is undoubtedly of more consequence
than the mere name.
In leaving this interesting topic, we would not be un-
derstood to intimate that the notions of existence, mind,
personal identity, unity, succession, duration, power, arid
the others which have been mentioned, are all which
Suggestion furnishes. It might not be easy to make a
complete enumeration ; but, in giving an account of the
genesis of human knowledge, we may probably astribe
the ideas of truth, freedom, design or intelligence, neces-
sity, fitness or congruity, reality, order, plurality, totality,
immensity, possibility, infinity, happiness, reward, punish-
ment, and perhaps many others, to this source.
^ 122. Suggestion a source of principles as well as of ideas.
One more remark remains to be made. Original Sug-
gestion is not only the source of ideas, (and particularly
of ideas fundamental and unalterable,) but also of prind^
pies. The reasoning faculty, w^hich in its nature is essen-
13*> CONSCIOUSNESS.
tally comparative and deductive, must have something to
rest upon bacli: of itself, and of still higher authority than
itself, with which, as a first link in the chain, the process
of deduction begins. It is the suggestive intellect which
is the basis of the action of the comparative and deduc-
tive intellect. Of those elementary or transcendental
propositions which are generally acknowledged to be
prerequisites and conditions of the exercise of the deduc-
tive faculty, there are some particularly worthy of notice,
such as the following. — There is no beginning or change
of existence without a cause. — Matter and mind have
uniform and permanent laws. — Every quality supposes a
subject, a real existence, of which it is a quality. — Means,
conspiring together to produce a certain end, imply intel-
ligence.
CHAPTER III.
CONSCIOUSNESS.
^ 123. Consciousness the 2d source of internal knowledge ; its nature.
The second source of that knowledge which, in dis-
tinction from sensations and external perceptions, is de-
nominated Internal, is consciousness. By the common
usage of the language, the term Consciousness is appro-
priated to express the way or method in which we obtain
the knowledge of those objects which belong to the
mind itself, and which do not, and cannot exist inde-
pendently of some mind. Imagining and reasoning are
terms expressive of real objects of thought ; but evident-
ly they cannot be supposed to exist, independently of
wSoine mind which imagines and reasons. Hence ever^
instance of consciousness may be regarded as embracing
in itself the three following distinct notions at least ; viz.,
(1.) The idea of self or of personal existence, which we
possess, not by direct consciousness, but by suggestion,
expressed in English by the words self, myself, and the
personal pronoun I ; (2.) Some quality, state, or opera-
tic n of the mind, whatever it may be ; and (3.) A relative
CONSCIOUSNESS. J 37
perceptioji of possession, appropriation, or belonging to.
For instance, a person says, I am conscious of love, or
OF ANGER, OR OF PENITENCE. Here the idea of self, or of
personal existence, is expressed by the pronoun I ; thei-e
is a different mental state, and expressed by its appropri-
ate term, that of the affection of anger, &c. ; the phrase,
CONSCIOUS OF, expresses the feeling of relation, which in-
stantaneously and necessarily recognises the passion of
anger as the attribute or property of the subject of the
proposition. And in this case, as in all others where we
apply the term under consideration, consciousness does
not properly extend to anything which has an existence
extraneous to the conscious object or soul itself
() 124. Further remarks on tbe proper objects of consciousness.
As there are some things to which Consciousness, as
the term is usually employed, relates, and others to which
it does not, it is proper to consider it in this respect more
fully. — (1.) As to those thoughts which may have arisen,
or those emotions which may have agitated us in times
past, w^e cannot with propriety be said to be conscious of
them at the present moment, although we may be con-
scious of that present state of mind which we term the
recollection of them. — (2.) Again, Consciousness has no
direct connexion with such objects, w^hether material or
immaterial, as exist at the present time, but are external
to the mind, or, in other words, have an existence inde-
pendent of it.
For instance, we are not, strictly speaking, conscious
of any material existence whatever ; of the earth which
we tread, of the food which nourishes us, of the clothes
that protect, or of anything else of the like nature with
w^hich we are conversant ; but are conscious merely of
the effects they produce within us, of the sensations of
taste, of heat and cold, of resistance and extension, of
hardness and softness, and the like.
• (3.) This view holds also jn respect to immaterial
things, even the mind itself We are not directly con-
scious, using the term in the manner which has been ex-
plained, of the existence even of our own mind, but
merely of its qualities and operations, and of that firm
M2
138 CONSCIOUSNESS.
Delief or knowledge of its existence, necessarily attend-
ant on those operations.
^ 125. Consciousness a ground or law of belief.
Consciousness, it may be remarked here, is to be re-
garded as a ground or law of belief; and the belief at-
tendant on the exercise of it, like that which accompa-
nies the exercise of Original Suggestion, is of the highest
kind. It appears to be utterly out of our power to avoid
believing, beyond a doubt, that the mind experiences cer-
tain sensations, or has certain thoughts, or puts forth par-
ticular intellectual operations, whenever, in point of fact,
that is the case. We may be asked for the reason of this
belief, but we have none to give, except that it is the re-
sult of an ultimate and controlhng principle of our na-
ture ; and hence that nothing can ever prevent the convic-
tions resulting from this source, and nothing can divest
us of them.
Nor has the history of the human mind made known
any instances that have even the appearance of being at
variance with this view, except a few cases of undoubted
insanity. A man may reason against Consciousness as a
ground and law of belief, either for the sake of aumsing
himself or perplexing others ; but when he not only rea-
sons against it as such, but seriously and sincerely rejects
it, it becomes quite another concern ; and such a one has,
by common consent, broken loose from the authority of
his nature, and is truly and emphatically beside himself
It will be impossible to find a resting-place where such
a mind can fix itself and repose ; the best established
truths, and the wildest and most extravagant notions, will
stand nearly an equal chance of being either rejected or
received ; fancy and fact will be confounded and mingled
together, and the whole mind will exhibit a scene of
chaotic and irretrievable confusion.
^ 126. Instances of knowledge developed in consciousness.
It would be no easy task to point out the numerous
states of mind, the ideas, and emotions, and desires, and
volitions, which come within the range and cognizance
of Consciousness ; nor is there any special reason, connect-
CONSCIOUSNESS. 139
►d with any object we have in view at present, why such
I full enumeration should be attempted. A few instances
vvill suffice to show how fruitful a source of experience
md of knowledge this is.
(I.) All the various degrees of belief are matters of
Consciousness. We are so constituted that the mind ne-
cessarily yields its assent in a greater or less degree when
evidence is presented. These degrees of assent are ex-
ceedingly various and multiplied, although only a few of
them are expressed by select and appropriate names ; nor
does it appear to be necessary for the ends of society, or
for any other purpose, that it should be otherwise. Some
of them are as follows : doubting, assenting, presumption,
believing, disbeheving, probability, certainty, &c.
(II.) The names of all other intellectual acts and oper-
ations (not the names of the intellectual Powers, which,
like the mind itself, are made known to us by Suggestion,
and are expressed by a different class of terms, but sim-
ply of acts and operations) are expressive of the subjects
of our Consciousness. Among others, the terms perceiv-
ing, thinking, attending, conceiving, remembering, com-
paring, judging, abstracting, reasoning, imagining.
(in.) Consciousness, considered as a source of knowl-
edge, includes likewise all our emotions and desires,
(everything, in fact, which really and directly comes with-
in the range of the sensitive or sentient part of our na-
ture,) as the emotions of the beautiful, the grand, the sub-
lime, the ludicrous ; the feelings of pleasure, and pain,
and aversion, of hope and joy, of despondency and sad-
ness, and a multitude of others.
(IV.) Here also originated our acquaintance w^th the
complex emotions or passions. A man bestows a benefit
upOn us, and we are conscious of a new complex feeling
which we call gra.titude. Another person does us an in-
jury ; and we are conscious of another and distinct feeling,
which we call anger. In other words, we feel, we know
^hat the passion exists, and tljat it belongs to ourselves ;
and it is the same of jealousy, hatred, revenge, friendship,
sympathy, the filial and parental affections, love, &c.
(V.) All the moral and religious emotions and affec-
tir>ns, regarded as subjects of internal knowledge, belong
140 RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT,
here; such as approval, disapproval, remorse, humility,
repentance, religious faith, forgiveness, benevolence, the
sense of dependence, adoration. — When we consider that
■ the mind is constantly in action ; that, in all our intercourse
Virith our fellovi^-beings, friends, family, countrymen, and
enemies, new and exceedingly diversified feelings are
called forth ; that every new scene in nature, and everj-
new combination of events, have their appropriate results
in the mind, it will be readily conjectured that this enu-
meration might be carried to a much greater extent.
What has been said will serve to indicate some of the
prominent sources for self-inquiry on this subject.
CHAPTER IV.
RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT.
^ 127. Of the susceptibility of perceiving or feeling relations.
It is not inconsistent with the usage of our language
to say, that the mind brings its thoughts together, and
places them side by side, and compares them. Such are
nearly the expressions of Mr. Locke, who speaks of the
mind's bringing one thing to and setting it hy another,
and carrying its view from one to the other. And such
is the imperfect nature of all arbitrary signs, that this
phraseology will probably continue to be employed, al-
though without some attention it will be likely to lead
into error. Such expressions are evidently of material
origin, and cannot be rightly interpreted in their applica-
tion to the mind, without taking that circumstance into
consideration. When it is said that our thoughts are
brought together ; that they are placed side by side, and
the like, probably nothing more can be meant than this,
that they are immediately successive to'^iach other. And
when it is further said that we compare them, the mean-
ing is, that we perceive or feel their relation to each other
in certain respects.
The mind, therefore, has an original susceptibility or
power corresponding to this result; fn other words, bv
RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT. 141
which this result is brought about ; which is sometimes
known as its power of relative suggestion, and at other
times the same thing is expressed by the term judgment,
although the latter term is sometimes employed with other
shades of meaning. — " With the susceptibility of Relative
Suggestion," says Dr. Brown, Lect. 51, "the faculty of
judgment, as that term is commonly employed, may be
considered as nearly synonymous; and I have accord-
ingly used it as synonymous in treating of the different
relations that have come under our feview."
We arrive here, therefore, at an ultimate fact in our
jaental nature ; in other words, we reach a principle so
thoroughly elementary, that iC cannot be resolved into any
other. The human intellect is so made, so constituted,
that, when it perceives different objects together, or has
immediately successive conceptions of any absent objects
of perception, their mutual relations are immediately felt
by it. It considers them as equal or unequal, like or un-
like, as being the same or different in respect to place and
time, as having the same or different causes and ends,
and in various other respects.
ij 128. Occasions on which feelings of relation may arises.
The occasions on which feehngs of relation may arise
are almost innumerable. It would certainly be no easy
task to specify them all. Any of the ideas which the
mind is able to frame, may, either directly or indirectly,
lay the foundation of other ideas of relation, since they
may, in general, be compared together ; or if they cannot
themselves be readily placed side by side, may be made
the means of bringing others into comparison. But those
ideas which are of an external origin are representative
of objects and their qualities ; and hence we may speak
of the relations of things no less than of the relations of
thought. And such relations are everywhere discover-
able.
• W^e behold the flowers of tJie field, and one is fairer
than another ; we hear many voices, and one is louder
or softer than another ; we taste the fruits of the earth,
and one flavour is more pleasant than another. But these
differences of sound, and brightness, and taste, could never
1^ RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT.
be known to us without the power of [«eiceiving relations.
— Again, we see a fellow-being; an 1 as we make bun
the subject of our thoughts, we at first think of him only
as a man. But then he may, at the same time, be a fa-
tlier, a brother, a son, a citizen, 'a legislator; these terms
express ideas of relation.
<J 129. Of the use of correlative terms.
Correlative terms are such terms as are used to express
corresponding ideas of relation. They suggest the rela-
tions with great readiness, and, by means of them, the
mind can be more steadily, and longer, and with less
pain, fixed upon the ideas of which they are expressive.
The words father and son, legislator and constituent,
brother and sister, husband and w^ife, and others of this
class, as soon as they are named, at once carry oui
thoughts beyond the persons who are the subjects of
these relations to the relations themselves. Wherever,
therefore, there are correlative terms, the relations may
be expected to be clear to the mind.
^ 130, Of relations of identity and diversity.
The number of relations is very great ; so much so, that
it is found difficult to reduce them to classes ; and proba-
bly no classification of them which has been hitherto pro-
posed, exhausts them in their full extent. The most of
those which it will be necessary to notice may be brought
into the seven classes of relations of identity and diver-
sity, of DEGREE, of PROPORTION, of PLACE, of TIME, of POS-
SESSION, and of CAUSE and effect.
The first class of ideas of relation which we shall pro-
ceed to consider, are those of identity and diversity. —
Such is the nature of our minds, that no two objects cau
be placed before us essentially unlike, Avithout our having
a perception of this difference. When, on the other hand,
there is an actual sameness in the objects contemplated
by us, the mind perceives or is sensible of their identity
It is not meant by this that we are never liable to mis-
take ; that the mind never confounds wht;t is diflisrent,
nor separates what is the same ; our object here is merely
to state the general fact.
RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT. 143
Two pieces of paper, for instance, are placed before
US, the one white and the other red ; and we at once
perceive, without the delay of resorting to other objects
and bringing them into comparison, that the colours are
not the same. We immediately and necessarily perceive
a difference between a square and a circle, between a
triangle and a parallelogram, between the river and the
-rude cliff that overhangs it, the flower and the turf from
which it springs, the house and the neighbouring hill, the
horse and his rider.
Whatever may be the appearance of this elementary
perception at first sight, it is undoubtedly one of great
practical importance. It has its place in all forms of rea-
soning, as the train of argument proceeds from step to
step ; and in Demonstrative reasoning in particular, it is
evident, that without it we should be unable to combine
together the plainest propositions.
^ 131. (II.) Relations of degree, and names expressive of them.
Another class of those intellectual perceptions which
are to be ascribed to the Judgment, or what we term more
explicitly the power of relative suggestion, may proper-
ly enough be named perceptions of relations of Degree.
Such perceptions of relation are found to exist in respect
to all such objects as are capable of being considered as
composed of parts, and as susceptible, in some respects, of
different degrees. — We look, for instance, at two men;
they are both tall ; but we at once perceive and assert
that one is taller than the other. We taste two apples ;
they are both sweet ; but we say that one is sweeter than
another. That is to say, Ave discover, in addition to the
mere perception of the man and the apple, a relation, a
difference in the objects in certain respects.
There are terms in all languages employed in the ex-
pression of such relations. In English a reference to the
particular relation is often combined in the same term
^vhich expresses the quality. ^ All the words of the com-
parative and superlative degrees, formed by merely alter-
ing the termination of the positive, are of this description,
as whiter, sweeter, wiser, larger, smaller, nobler, kindei',
truest, falsest, holiest, and a multitude of others. In oth-
144 ' RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT.
er cases, (and probably the greater number,) the epithet
expressive of the quaUty is combined with the adverbs
more and mosty less and least. But certainly ^\'e should
not use such terms if we were not possessed of the power
of relative suggestion. We should ever be unable to say
of one apple that it is sweeter than another, or of one
man that he is taller than another, without considering
them in certain definite respects, and Avithout perceiving
certain relations. So that, if we had no knowledge of any
other than relations of Degree, we should abundantly see
the importance of the mental susceptibility under review,
considered as a source of words and of grammatical forms
in language.
^ 132. (III.) Of relations of proportion.
Among other relations which are discovered to us by
the power of judgment or relative suggestion, are those
of PROPORTION ; a class of relations which are peculiar in
this, that they are felt only on the presence of three or
more objects of thought. They are discoverable particu-
larly in the comparison of numbers, as no one proceeds far
in numerical combinations without a knowledge of them.
On examining the numbers two, three, four, twenty, twen-
ty-seven, thirty-two, nine, five, eight, and sixteen, we feel
certain relations existing among them; they assume a
new aspect, a new power in the mental view. We per-
ceive (and we can assert, in reference to that perception)
that three is to nine as nine to twenty-seven ; that two
is to eight as eight to thirty-two ; that four is to five as
sixteen to twenty, &c.
And when we have once felt or perceived such relation
actually existing between any one number and others, we
ever afterward regard it as a property inseparable from
that number, although the property had remained un-
known to us until we had compared it with others. W^e
attach to numbers, under such circumstances, a new at-
tribute, a new power, the same as we do, under similar
circumstances, to all the (5ther subjects of our knowledge.
There are many properties, for instance, of external bod-
ies, which were not known to us at first, but, as soon as
they are discovered, they are, of course, embraced in the
RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT. 145
general notion which we form of such bodies, and are
considered as making a part of it. And pursuing the
same course in respect to numbers, if, on comparing them
with each other, we perceive certain relations never dis-
covered before, the circumstance of their sustaining those
relations ever afterward enters into our conception of
them. •
^ 133. (IV.) Of relations of place or position.
Other feelings or perceptions of relation arise when
we contemplate the place or position of objects. Our
minds are so constituted, that such perceptions are the
necessary results of our contemplations of the outward ob-
jects by which we are surrounded. Perhaps we are ask-
ed, What we mean by position or place ? Without pro-
fessing to give a confident answer, since it is undoubtedly
difficult, by any mere form of words, fully to explain it, we
have good grounds for saying that we cannot conceive of
any body as having place, without comparing it with
some other bodies. If, therefore, having two bodies fixed,
or which maintain the same relative position, we can com-
pare a third body with them, the third body can then be
said to have place or position.
This may be illustrated by the chessmen placed on the
chessboard. We say the men are in the same place, al-
though the board may have been removed from one room
to another. We use this language, because we consider
the men only in relation to each other and the parts of the
board, and not in relation to the room or parts of the
room. — Again, a portrait is suspended in the cabin of a
ship ; the captain points to it, and says to a bystander,
that it has been precisely in the same place this seven
years. Whereas, in point of fact, it has passed from
Europe to Africa, from Africa to America, and perha])s
round the whole world. Still the speaker uttered no
falsehood, because he spoke of the portrait, (and was so
understood to speak of it,) in relation to the ship, and
particularly the cabin ; and nol in relation to the parts of
the world which the ship had visited. — Such instanccis
show that place is relative.
Hence we may clearly have an idea of the place or po-
146 RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT.
sition of all the different parts of the universe, consider-
ed separately, because they may be compared with oth-
er parts ; although we are unable to form any idea of
the place or position of the universe considered as a
whole, because we have then no other body with which
w^e can compare it. If it were possible for us to know all
worlds and things at once, to comprehend the universe
with a glance, we could not assert, with all our knowl-
edge of it, that it is here, or there, or yonder, or tell
where it would be.
But if place express a relative notion, then it follows
that all words which involve or imply the place or posi-
tion of an object are of a similar character. Such are
the words high and low, superior and inferior, (when used
in respect to the position of objects,) near and distant,
above and beneath, further, nearer, hither, yonder, here,
there, where, beyond, within, around, without, and th?
like.
<§ 134. (V.) Of relations of time.
Another source of relative perceptions or judgments
is TIME. Time holds nearly the same relation to duration
as position does to space. The position or piace of ob-
jects is but space marked out and limited ; time, in like
manner, is duration set off into distinct periods ; and as
our notions of the place of bodies are relative, so also are
our conceptions of events considered as happening in
time. It is true, that the notions of duration and space
are in themselves original and absolute ; they are made
known to us by Original rather than by Relative Sugges-
tion ; but when they are in any way limited, and events
are thereby contemplated in reference to them under the
new forms of place and time, certain new conceptions
arise which are relative.
All time is contemplated under the aspect of past, pres-
ent, or future,. We are able, chiefly in consequence of
the revolutions of the heavenly bodies, to form a distinct
notion of portions of time, a day, a month, a year, &c. ;
we can contemplate events, not only as existing at pres-
ent, but as future or past. But always when we think or
speak of events in time, (in other words, when we speak
RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT. 147
of the date of events,) there is a comparison and a per-
ception of relation.
What, therefore, is the import of our language when
we say, the independence of the North American colo-
nies was declared July fourth, 1776. — The meaning- of
these expressions may be thus illustrated. We assume
the present year, 1838, as a g.ven period, and reckon back
t-o the year one, which coincides with the birth of our Sav-
iour ; then the year 1776 expresses the distance between
these two extremes, viz., one, and eighteen hundred thir-
ty-eight. This seems to be all we learn when we say,
the Independence of the United States was declared at the
period above mentioned. — Again, we obviously mean the
same thing, and convey the same idea, whether we say
that the Saviour was born in the year one of the Christian
era, or in the year 4004 from the creation of the world.
But, in the last case, the year 4004 expresses the distance
between these two extremes, viz., the beginning of the
world and the present time ; while, in the first instance^
the event itself forms the beginning of the series. — So
that all dates appear to be properly classed under the
head of ideas of relation ; and also all names whatever,
which are in any way expressive of the time of events,
as a second, a minute, day, week, hour, month, year, cy-
cle, yesterday, to-morrow, to-day, &c.
^ 135. (VI.) Of ideas of possession.
Another class of relations may be called relations of
POSSESSION. — Every one knows, that not unfrequently, in
his examination of objects, there arises a new feelinf^,
which is distinct from, and independent of, the mere con-
ceptions of the objects themselves ; and which, as it dif-
fers^ from other feehngs of relation, may be termed the
relation of possession or belonging to. This is one of the
earliest feelings which hum?.n beings exercise. "WTien
we see the small child grasping its top and rattle with
^oy, and disputing the claim* of another to a share in.
them, we may know that he has formed the notion of
possession. It is not only formed in early life, but expe-
rience fully shows that it loses neither activity n >r strength
by the lapse of years.
148 RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT.
The application of the Judgment, or that power by
whicb we perceive the relations of things, is frequent in
this particular form ; and we find here a fruitful source of
words. The whole class of possessive pronouns, which
are to be found in all languages, have their origin here ;
such as MINE, THINE, YOUR, HIS, HER, &c. The relation
o[ possession is imbodied also in the genitive case of the
Greeks, Latins, Germans, and whatever other languages
express relations in the same way ; in the construct state
of nouns in the Hebrew and the other cognate dialects ;
and in the preposition qf, which is the substitute for the
genitive termination in English, and the articles de, du,
de'l, and de la in French.
The verbs to be in English, esse in Latin, etre in
Erench, (and the sanie may undoubtedly be said of the
corresponding verb of existence in all languages,) are
often employed to express the relation of possession or
belonging to. To say that the rose is red or the orange
yellow, is as much as to say that the qualities of yellow-
ness and redness are the possession of. or belong to, the
rose and orange. But it will be observed, that the rela-
tion is not indicated by the name of the subject, nor by
the epithet expressive of its quality, but by the verb whicb
connects the subject and predicate. And similar remarb
will apply to some other verbs.
This class of relations is involved in many complex
terms, "which imply definite qualities and affections of
mind, as friend, enemy, lover, hater, adorer, worshipper
These terms not only indicate certain individuals, to whom
they are applied, but assert the existence of certain men-
tal affections as their characteristics, and as belonging to
them.
^ 136. (VII.) Of relations of cause and effect.
There are relations also of Cause and Effect. We will
n 3t delay here to explain the origin of the notions of
cause and effect, any further than to say that the notion
of cause, as it first exists in the mind, includes nothing-
more than invariable antecedence. When the antece-
dence to the event, or the sequence of whatever kind, jts
our own volition (and probably in two other cases>
RELATIVE SUGGESTION OR JUDGMENT 14-^
see § 118,) we have the new idea of poweu. Yiie idea
of invariable antecedence, therefore, which ox" com so sup-
poses some sequence, when it is combined witn that of
Power, constitutes the full notion of cause. Wneii the
sequence is found invariably to follow, and its existence
cannot be ascribed to anything eke, it is called the ef-
fect. Accordingly, men usually give the name of events,
of occurrences, or facts, to those thmgs which from timfe
to time fall under their notice, wnen they are considered
in themselves. They are the mere facts, the mere events,
and nothing more. But when, in the course of theii
further experience, such evviuts are found to have certain
invariable forerunners, they cease to apply these terms,
and call them, in reference to their antecedents, effects.
And, in like manner, the antecedents are called causes, not
in themselves considered, but in reference to what inva-
riably comes after.
Cause and effect, therefore, have certainly a relation to
each other ; it is thus that they exist in the view of the
mind and in the nature of things, however true it may
be that men are unable to trace any physical connexion
between them. We cannot conceive of a cause, if we
exclude from the list of our ideas the correlative notion
of effect, nor, on the other hand, do we call anything an
effect without a reference to some antecedent. These
two notions, therefore, involve or imply the existence of
each other ; that is, are relative.
^ 137. Of complex terms involving the relation of cause and effect.
The suggestion of the relation of Cause and Effect
exists on occasions almost innumerable : and in all lan-
guages gives a character to a multitude of words. This
relation is irnbodied, for instance, in a multitude of
names which are expressive of complex objects, such as
printer, farmer, sculptor, warrior, writer, poet, manufac-
turer, painter.
• This may be thus illustrated. When we look at any
mteresting piece of statuary, the sight of it naturally sug-
gests its author. But when our mind is thus directed
from the statue to the sculptor, it is evident we do not
think of him as we do of a thousand others, but we com-
N2
150 RELATIVE SUGGESTION OK JUDGMENT.
bine with the conception of the individual a reference to
what he has done. We unite with the mere complex
notion of man that of a cause, and this combination evi-
dently alters its character, making it relative instead of
absolute. — In like manner, when we look at a fine portrait
or historical painting, we are naturally reminded of the
artist, whose ingenuity has been displayed in its propor-
tions and colouring. But the word painter, which we ap-
ply to him, expresses not merely the man, but comprises
the additional notion of the relationjof cause, which he
holds to the interesting picture before us.
^ 138. Connexion of relative suggestion with reasoning-
It may be profitable to notice here the connexion which
relative suggesti*on has with reasoning in general. The
suggestions of relation (or elementary judgments, as they
may perhaps properly be called) are, in some respects, to
a train of reasoning, what parts are to the whole. But
they evidently do not of themselves include all the parts
in a train of reasoning, and are distinguished by this pe-
ijuliarity, that their office in a great measure is to connect
together other subordinate parts in the train. In the com-
bination of numbers, and in the various applications of
demonstrative reasoning, the relations of proportion and
i;he relations of identity and diversity, (otherwise called
of AGREEMENT and DisAGREEME^NT,) find a conspicuous place.
Moral reasoning embraces all kinds of relations, those of
iegree, time, place, possession, and cause and effect, as
well as of agreement and disagreement, and of propor-
'ion. Relative feelings, sometimes of one kind and
^ sometimes of another, continually unfold themselves as
1 he mind advances in argument. So that, although there
ire elements in reasoning besides perceptions of relation,
it is evident that it cannot advance independently of their
aid. Facts may be accumulated, having close and de-
> 'jsive relations to the points to be proved, but those facts
•/-an never be so bound together as to result in any decisive
■ .onclusion, without a perception and knowledge of the
lelatioas.
ASSOCIATION. (l ) PRIM/RY LAWS. 15 1
CHAPTER V.
ASSOCIATION. (l.) PRIMARY LAWS
$ 139. Reasons for consideiing this subject here.
In giving an account of the internal origin of knowl-
edge, we might be expected to proceed directly from
Relative Suggestion to a consideration of the Reasoning
power, w^hich is one of the most effective and fruitful
sources of intellectual perception. By means of this
power, we are enabled to combine and compare the am-
ple materials furnished by original suggestion, conscious-
ness, and RELATIVE suggestion, and thus to develope in
the mind new elements of thought, and to cast light on
the darkened places in the field of truth. But there are
powers of the mind, subordinate to the reasoning power,
and essential to its action, which may with propriety be
first considered; particularly Association and Memory.
Other persons, perhaps, in examining the various parts of
the mind, would propose for the consideration of these
powers some other place ; but we see no valid objection
to considering them here. On the contrary, they have
comparatively so little to do with what has gone before,
;ind so much to do with what comes after, and, in partic-
ular, are so essential to every process of ratiocination, that
this seems to be their appropriate position. As associa-
tion is presupposed and involved in memory as well as in
reasoning, w^e naturally begin with that principle first.
^ 140. Meaning of association and illustrations.
Our thoughts and feelings follow each other in a regu-
lar train. Of this statement no one needs any other
proof than his individual experience. We all know, not
(jfily that our minds are susceptible of new states, but,
what is more, that this capability of new states is not for-
tuitous, but has its laws. Therefore we not only say
that our thoughts and feelings succeed each other, but
that this antecedence and sequence is in a regular train.
152 ^ ASSOCIATION.
To this regular and established consecution of the states
of the mind, we give the name of mental association.
Illustrations' of this important principle, which exerts
an influence over the emotions and desires as w^ell as over
the thoughts, are without number. Mr. Hobbes relates, in
his pohtical treatise of the Leviathan, that he was once
in company w^here the conversation turned on the Eng-
lish Civil War. A person abruptly asked, in the course
of the conversation, What was the value of a Roman
denarius ? Such a question, so remote from the general
direction of the conversation, had the appearance not
only of great abruptness, but of impertinence. Mr.
Hobbes says, that, on a little reflection, he was able to
trace the train of thought which suggested the question.
The original subject of discourse naturally introduced
the history of King Charles ; the king naturally suggest-
ed the treachery of those who surrendered him up to his
enemies ; the treachery of these persons readily introdu-
ced to the mind the treachei-y of Judas Iscariot ; the con-
duct of Judas was associated with the thirty pieces of
silver, and, as the Romans occupied Judea at the time of
the crucifixion of the Saviour, the pieces of silver were
associated with the Roman denarii.
" When I was travelling through the wilds of Ameri-
ca," says the eloquent Chateaubriand, " I was not a little
surprised to hear that I had a countryman estabhshed as
a resident at some distance in the woods. I visited him
with eagerness, and found him employed in pointing some
stakes at the door of his hut. He cast a look towards
me, which was cold enough, and continued his work ; but,
the moment I addressed him in French, he started at the
recollection of his country, and the big tear stood in his
eye. These well-known accents suddenly roused, in the
heart of the old man, all the sensations of his infancy."*
---Such illustrations, which appeal to every one's con-
sciousness in confirmation of their truth, show^ what asso-
ciation is.
§ 141. Of the general laws of association.
In regard to Association, all that we know is the fact
♦ Chateaubriand's Recollections of Italy, England, and America.
(l.) PRIMARY LAWS. 153
that our thoughts and feelings, under certain circumstan-
ces, appear together and keep each other company. We
do not undertake to explain why it is that association, in
the circumstances appropriate to its manifestation, has an
existence. We know the simple fact ; and if it be an
ultimate principle in our mental constitution, as we have
no reason to doubt that it is, we can know nothing more.
Association, as thus understood, has its laws. By the
Laws of association we mean no other than the general
designation of those circumstances under which the regu-
lar consecution of mental states which has been mention-
ed occurs. The folio v/ing may be named as among the
Primary or more important of those laws, although it is
not necessary to take upon us to assert either that the
enumeration is complete, or that some better arrange-
ment of them might not be proposed, viz., resemblance,
CONTRAST, CONTIGUITY in time and place, and cause and
EFFECT. . '
ij 142. Resemblance the first general law of association.
New trains of ideas and new emotions are occasioned
by Resemblance ; but when we say that they are occa-
sioned in this way, all that is meant is, that there is a new
state of mind immediately subsequent to the perception
of the resembling object. Of the efficient cause of this
new state of mind under these circumstances, we can only
say, the Creator of the soul has seen fit to appoint this
connexion in its operations, without our being able, or
deeming it necessary, to give any further explanation. A
traveller, wandering in a foreign land, finds himself, in the
course of his sojournings, in the midst of aspects of nature
not unlike those where he has formerly resided, and the
fact of this resemblance becomes the antecedent to new
states of mind. There is distinctly brought before him
the scenery which he has left, his own woods, his waters,
and his home. — The enterprising Lander, in giving an
account of one of his excursions in Africa, expresses him-
self thus. " The foliage exhibited every variety and tint
of green, from the sombre shade of the melancholy yew
to the lively verdure of the poplar and young oak. For
myself, I was delighted with the agreeable ramble ; and
154 ASSOCIATION.
imagined that I could distinguish among the notes of the
songsters of the grove, the sweUing strains of the Enghsh
skylark and thrush, and the more gentle warbling of the
finch and linnet. It was indeed a brilliant mornings
teeming with life and beauty ; and recalled to my mem-
ory a thousand affecting associations of sanguine boyhood,
when I was thoughtless and happy."
The result is the same in any other case, whenever
there is a resemblance between what we now experience
and what we have previously experienced. We have
been acquainted, for instance, at some former period, with
a person whose features appeared to us to possess some
peculiarity ; a breadth and openness of the forehead, an
uncommon expression of the eye, or some other striking
mark ; to-day we meet a stranger in the crowd by which
we are surrounded, whose features are of a somewhat
similar cast, and the resemblance at once vividly suggests
the likeness df our old acquaintance.
Nor is the association which is based upon resem-
blance limited to objects of sight. Objects which are
addressed to the sense of hearing are recalled in the
same way.
" How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at intervals upon the ear.
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where memory slept. Wherever I have heard
A kindred melody, the scene recurs,
And with it all its pleasures and its pains." y
^143. Of resemblance in the effects produced.
Resemblance operates, as an associating principle, not
only when there is a likeness or similarity in the things
themselves, but also when there is a resemblance in the
effects which are produced upon the mind. — The ocean,
for instance, when greatly agitated by the winds, and
threatening every moment to overwhelm us, produces in
the mind an emotion similar to that which is caused by
the presence of an angry man v/ho is able to do us harm.
Ard, in consequence of this similarity in the effects pro-
duced, it is sometimes the case that they reciprocally
bk'ing each other to our recollection.
Dark woo'ls, hanging over the brow of a mountain,
(^I.) PRIMARY LAWf 155
cause in us a feeling of awe and wonder, like that which
we feel when we behold approaching us some aged per-
son, whose form is venerable for his years, and whose
name is renowned for wisdom and justice. It is in refer-
ence to this view of the principle on which we are re-
marking, that the following comparison is introduced in
Akenside's Pleasures of the Imagination :
• " Mark the sable woods,
t That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow ,
With what religious awe the solemn scene
Commands your steps ! As if the reverend form
Of Minos or of Numa should forsake
The Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade
Move to your pausing eye."
As we are so constituted that all nature produces in
us certain effects, causes certain emotions similar to those
which are caused in us in our intercourse with our fellow-
beings, it so happens that, in virtue of this fact, the nat
ural world becomes living, animated, operative. The
ocean is in anger ; the sky smiles ; the oXiQfroums ; the
aged woods are venerable ; the earth and its productions
are no longer a dead mass, but have an existence, a soul,
an agency. — We see here, in part, the foundation of met-
aphorical language ; and it is here that we are to look
for the principles by which we are to determine the pro-
priety or impropriety of its use.
^ 144. Contrast the second general or primary law.
Contrast is another law or principle by which our
successive mental states are suggested ; or, in other terms,
when there are two objects, or events, or situations of a
character precisely opposite, the idea or conception of one
is immediately followed by that of the other. When the
discourse is of the palace of the king, how often are we
reminded in the same breath of the cottage of the peasant !
And thus it is that wealth and po\ erty, the cradle and
the grave, and hope and despair, a-e found, in public
speeches and in writings, so frequently going together,*
and keeping each other company. The truth is, they are
connected together in our thoughts by a distinct and op-
erative principle ; they accompany each other, certainly
not becavse there is any resemblance in the things thus
156 * ASSOCIATION.
associated, but in consequence of their very marked con-
trariety. Darkness reminds of light, heat of cokl, friend-
ship of enmity ; the sight of the concjueror is associated
with the memory of the conquered, and, when beholding
men of deformed and dwarfish appearance, we are at
once led to think of those of erect figure or of Patagonian
size. Contrast, then, is no less a principle or law of as-
sociation than resemblance itself
Count Lemaistre's touching story, entitled, from the
scene of its incidents, the Leper of Aost, illustrates the
eflfects of the principle of association now under consider-
ation. Like all persons infected with the leprosy, the
subject of the disease is represented as an object of dread
no less than of pity to others, and, while he is an outcast
from the society of men, he is a loathsome spectacle even
to himself. But what is the condition of his mind ? What
are the subjects of his thoughts ? The tendencies of his
intellectual nature prevent his thinking of wretchedness
alone. His extreme misery aggravates itself by suggest-
ing scenes of ideal happiness, and his mind revels in a
paradise of delights merely to give greater intensity to
his actual woes by contrasting them w4th imaginary bliss.
— " I represent to myself continually," says the Leper,
" societies of sincere and virtuous friends ; families bless-
ed with health, fortune, and harmony. I imagine I see
them walk in groves greener and fresher than these, tlu!
shade of which makes my poor happiness ; brightened by
a sun more brilliant than that which sheds its beams on
me ; and their destiny seems to me as much more worthy
of envy in proportion as my own is the more miserable "
Association by contrast is the foundation of the rhe-
torical figure of Antithesis. In one of the tragedies ol
Southern we find the following antithetic expressions •
'' Could I forget
What I have been, I might the better bear
What I am destined to. I am not the first
* That have been wretched ; but to think how much
I have been happier "
Here the present is placed in opposition with the pas*,
and happiness is contrasted with misery ; not by a coll
and strained artifice, as one might be led to suppose, bui
(l.) PRIMARY LAWS. 157
by the natural impulses of the mind, which is led to asso-
ciate together things that are the reverse of each other
<J 145. Contiguity the third general or primary law.
Those thoughts and feelings which have been connect-
ed together by nearness of time and place, are readily
suggested by each other; and, consequently, contiguity
in those respects is rightly reckoned as another and third
primary law of our mental associations. WTien we think
of Palestine, for instance, we very readily and naturally
think of the Jewish nation, of the patriarchs, of the proph-
ets, of the Saviour, and of the apostles, because Palestine
was their place of residence and the theatre of their ac-
tions. So that this is evidently an instance where the
suggestions are chiefly regulated by proximity of place.
When a variety of acts and events have happened nearly
at the same period, whether in the same place or not,
one is not thought of without the other being closely asso-
ciated with it, owing to proximity of time. If, there
fore, the particular event of the crucifixion of the Saviom
be mentioned, we are necessarily led to think of variou,«
other events which occurred about the same period, such
as the treacherous conspiracy of Judas, the denial of Pe
ter, the conduct of the Roman soldiery, the rending of th(
vail of the temple, and the temporary obscuration of the
sun.
The mention of Egypt suggests the Nile, the Pyramids,
the monuments of the Thebais, the follies and misfortunes
of Ckopatra, the battle of Aboukir. The mention of
Greece is associated with Thermopylae and Salamis, the
Hill of Mars, and the Vale of Tempe, Ilissus, the steeps
of Delphi, Lyceum, and the " olive shades of Academus."
ThesCj it will be noticed, are associations on the principle
of contiguity in place. But if a particular event of great
interest is mentioned, other events and renowned names,
which attracted notice at the same period, will eagerly
cluster around it. The naming of the amef ican revolu-
tion, for instance, immediately fills the mind with recol-
lections of Washington, Franklin, Morris, Greene, Jay,
and many of their associates, whose fortune it was to en-
Jist their exertions in support of constitutional rights, not
O
158 ASSOCIATION.
merely in the same countn^, (for that circumstance alone
might not have been sufficient to have recalled tnem,)
but at the same 'period of time.
It is generally supposed, and not without reason for it,
that the third primary law of mental association is njore
extensive in its influence than any others. It has been
remarked with truth, that proximity in time and place
forms the basis of the whole calendar of the great mass
of mankind. They pay but little attention to the arbi-
trary eras of chronology ; but date events by each other,
and speak of what happened at the time of some dark
day, of some destructive overflow of waters, of some great
eclipse, of some period of drought and famine, of some
war or revolution.
<^ 146. Cause and eflfect the fourth primary law.
There are certain facts or events which hold to each
other the relation of invariable antecedence and sequence.
That fact or event to which some other one sustains the
relation of constant antecedence, is, in general, called an
effect. And that fact or event to which some other one
holds the relation of invariable sequence, has, in general,
the name of a cause. Now there may be no resemblance
in the things which reciprocally bear this relation ; there
may be no contrariety ; and it is by no means necessary
that there should be contiguity in time or place, as the
meaning of the term contiguity is commonly understood.
There may be cause and effect without any one or all
of the.ie circumstances. But it is a fact which is known
to evevy one's experience, that, when we think of the
cause in any particular instance, we naturally think of the
effect, and, on the contrary, the knowledge or recollection
of the effect brings to mind the cause. — And in view of
this well-known and general experience, there is good
reason for reckoning cause and effect among the pri-
mary principles of our mental associations. What we
here understand by principles or laws will be recollectCcJ,
viz.. The general designation of those circumstances under
which the regular const cution of mental states occurs.
It is on the principle of Cause and Effect, that, when
we see a surgical inj^rument, or any engine of torture, we
ASSOCIATION, (ll.j SECONDARY LAWS. 159
have a conception of the pain which they are fitted to
occasion. And, on the contrary, the sight of a wound,
inflicted however long before, suggests to us the idea of
the instrument by which it was made. Mr. Locke re-
lates an incident, which illustrates the statements made
here, of a man who was restored from a state of insanity
by means of a harsh and exceedingly painful operation
"The gentleman who was thus recovered, with great
sense of gratitude and acknowledgment, owned the cure
all his life after, as the greatest obligation he could' have
received ; but, whatever gratitude and reason suggested
to him, he could never bear the sight of the operator ;
that image brought back with it the idea of that agony
which he suffered from his hands, which was too mighty
and intolerable for him to endure." — The operation of the
law of Cause and Effect, in the production of new asso-
ciations, seems to be involved in the following character-
istic passage of Shakspeare, Henry IV., 2d pt., act i. :
" Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office ; and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Remember'd knolUng a departed friend."
CHAPTER VI.
ASSOCIATION. (ll.) SECONDARY LAWS.
^ 147. Secondary laws, and their connexion with the primary.
The subject of Association is not exhausted in the enu-
meration and explanation of its Laws which has thus far
been given. Besides the primary laws, which have fall-
en under our consideration, there are certain marked and
prominent circumstances, which are found to exert, in a
greater or less degree, a modifying and controlling influ-
gpce over the more general principles. As this influence
IS of a permanent character, and not merely accidental
and temporary, the grounds or sources of it are called, by
way of distinction, secondary laws. — These are four in
number, viz., lapse of Time, degra"* of co-existent Feel-
160 ASSOCIATION.
mg, repetition or Habit, and original or constitutional
Difference in character.
It must at once be obvious, that these principles, al-
though holding a subordinate rank, give an increased
range and power to the primary laws. It is not to be
inferred from the epithet by which they are distinguished,
that they are, therefore, of a very minor and inconsidera-
ble importance. On the contrary, human nature without
them, as far as we are capable of judging, would have
assunied a sort of fixed and inflexible form, instead of
presenting those pleasing and almost endless diversities it
now does. — The primary laws are the great national roads
along which the mind holds its course ; the secondary are
those cross-roads that intersect them from time to time,
and thus afford an entrance into, and a communication
with, the surrounding country ; and yet all have a con-
nexion with each other ; and with all their turnings and
intersections, concur at last in the ultimate destination.
^ 148. Of the influence of lapse of time.
The first of the four secondary laws which we shall
consider, is lapse of time. Stated more particularly, the
law is this : Our trains of thought and emotion are more
or less strongly connected and likely to be restored, ac-
cording as the lapse of time has been greater or less.
Perhaps no lapse of time, however great, will utterly
break the chain of human thought, and cause an entire
inability of restoring our former experiences ; but it ap-
pears evident from observation, as much so as observation
renders evident in almost any case, that every additional
moment of intervening time weakens,* if it do not break
and sunder, the bond that connects the present with the
past, and diminishes the probability of such a restoration.
We remember many incidents, even of a trifling nature,
which occurred to-day, or the present week, while those
of yesterday or of last week are forgotten. But if the
increased period of months and years throws itself be-
tweer the present time and the date of our past experi-
ences, cur ancient joys, regrets, and sufferings, then how
unfrequent is their recurrence, and how weak and shad-
owy they appear! Increase the lapse of time a httle
(ll.) SECONDARY LAWS. 161
further, and a dark cloud rests on that portion of our his-
tory ; less substantial than a dream, it utterly eludes our
search, and becomes to us as if it never had been.
There is, however, an apparent exception to this law
which should be mentioned. The associated feelings of
old men, which were formed in their youth and the early
part of manhood, are more readily revived than those of
later origin. — On this state of things in old men, two re-
marks are to be made. The first is, that the law under
consideration fully and unfailingly maintains itself in the
case of aged persons, whenever the time is not extended
far back. Events which happened but a few hours be-
fore are remembered, while there is an utter forgetfulness
of those which happened a few weeks or even days be-
fore. So far as this, the law operates in old men precise-
ly as in others. The second remark is, that the failure
of its operation in respect to the events of youth, is caused,
not by an actual inability in the secondary law before us,
to blot out and diminish here as in other cases, but by the
greater power of the combined action of two other laws,
viz., Co-existent feeling, and Repetition or habit. Our
early life, as a general statement, was the most deeply in-
teresting, and is the most frequently recurred to ; and in
this way its recollections become so incorporated with the
mind as to hold a sort of precedence over our more recent
experiences, and thrust them from their proper place.
^ 149. Secondary law of repetition or habit.
Another secondary law is repetition ; in other words,
successions of thought are the more readily suggested in
proportion as they are the more frequently renewed. If
we experience a feeling once, and only once, we find it
difficult to recall it after it has gone from us ; but repeat-
ed experience increases the probability of its recurring.
Every schoolboy who is required to commit to memory,
puts this law to the test, and proves it Having read a
Siintence a number of times, he finds himself able to re-
peat it out of book, which he* could not do with merely
'reading it once.
The operation of this law is seen constantly in partic-
lai" arts and professions. If men be especially trained up
02
162 ASSOCIATION.
to certain trades, arts, or sciences, their associations on
those particular subjects, and on everything connected
with them, are found to be prompt and decisive. We
can but seldom detect any hesitancy or mistake within
the circle where their minds have been accustomed to
operate, because every thought and process have been
recalled and repeated thousands of times. With almost
everything they see or hear, there is a train of reflection,
connecting it with their peculiar calling, and bringing it
within the beaten and consecrated circle. Every hour,
unless they guard against it, hastens the process which
threatens to cut them off, and insulate them from the
great interests of humanity, and to make them wholly
professional.
" Still o'er those scenes their memory wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care ;
* Time but the impression stronger makes ;
As streams their channels deeper wear."
^ 150. Of the secondary law of co-existent emotion,
A third secondary law is co-existent emotion. — It may
be stated in other words as follows : The probability that
our mental states will be recalled by the general laws,
will in part depend on the depth of feeling, the degree
of interest, which accompanied the original experience of
them.
Why are bright objects mor« readily recalled than
faint or obscure ? It is not merely because they occupied
more distinctly our perception, but because they more en-
gaged our attention and interested us, the natural conse-
quence of that greater distinctness. Why do those events
in our personal history, which were accompanied with
great joys and sorrows, stand out like pyramids in our
past life, distinct to the eye, and immoveable in their po-
sition, while others have been swept away and cannot be
found ? Merely because there were joy and sorrow in
the one case, and not at all, or only in a slight degree, in
the other ; because the sensitive part of our nature com-
bined itself with the intellectual ; the Heart gave activi-
ty to the operations of the Understanding.
We learn from the Bible that the Jews, in their state
of exile, could not forget Jerusalem, the beloved and
(II.) SECONDARY LAWS. 163
beautiful City. And why not 1 How did it happen
that, in their Captivity, they sat down by the rivers of
Babylon, wept when they remembered Zion, and hung
tlieir harps on the willows? It was because Jerusalem
was not only an object of thought, but of feeling. They
had not only known her gates and fountains, her pleasant
dwelHng-places and temples, but had loved them. The
i [oly City w^as not a lifeless abstraction of the head $ but
? sacred and delightful image, engraven in the heart.
And hence it was, that, in their solitude and sorrow, she
arose before them so distinctly^ " The morning star of
memory."
^ 151. Original difference in the mental constitution.
The fourth and last secondary law of association is
ORIGINAL DIFFERENCE IN THE MENTAL CONSTITUTION. This
Law, it will be noticed, is expressed in the most general
terms ; and is to be considered, therefore, as applicable
both to the Intellectual and the Sensitive part of man.
It requires, accordingly, to be contemplated in two distinct
points of view.
The law of original difference in the mental constitu-
tion is applicable, in the first place, to the Intellect, prop-
erly and distinctively so called ; in other words, to the
comparing, judging, and reasoning part of the soul. That
<;here are differences in^nen intellectually, it is presumed
vvill hardly be doubted, although this difference is per-
ceptible in different degrees, and in some cases hardly
Derceptible at all. And these original or constitutional
peculiarities reach and affect the associating principle, as
well as other departments of intellectual action. The as-
sociations of the great mass of mailkind (perhaps it may
be entirely owing in some cases to the accidental circum-
stance of a want of education and intellectual develope-
ment) appear to run exclusively in the channel of Conti-
guity in time and place. They contemplate objects in
4;heir nearness and distance, in their familiar and outward
exhibitions, without examining closely into analogies and
differences, or considering them in the important relation
iii cause and effect. But not unfrequently we find persons
whose minds aie differently constructed, who exhibit a
164 ASSOCIATION.
highei order of perception. But even in these cases we
sometimes detect a striking difference in the apphcation
of their intellectual powers. One person, for instance,
has from childhood exhibited a remarkable command of
the relations and combinations of numbers ; another ex-
hibits, in like manner, an uncommon perception of uses,
adaptations, and powers, as they are brought together,
and set to work in the mechanic arts ; another has the
power of generalizing in an uncommon degree, and, hav-
ing obtained possession of a principle in a particular ca^e,
which may appear to others perfectly and irretrievably
insulated, he at once extends it to hundreds and thousands
of other cases. , In no one of these instances does the As-
sociating power operate in precisely the same way, but
exhibits in each a new aspect or phasis of action.
It it is perhaps unnecessary to delay here, for the pur-
pose of confirming what has now been said by a refer-
ence to the history of individuals. A slight acquaintance
with literary history will show that diversities of intellect,
such as have been alluded to, and founded too in a great
degree on peculiarities of the associating principle, have
been frequent. How often had the husbandman seen the
apple fall to the ground without even asking for the cause ?
But when Newton saw the fall of an apple, he not only
asked for the cause, but, having conjectured it, he at once
perceived its applicability to everything in like circum-
stances around him, to all the descending bodies on the
earth's surface. And this was not all. Immediately ex-
panding the operations of the principle which he had
detected, from the surface of the earth to the stars of
heaven, he showed its universality, and proved that the
most distant planet is controlled by the same great law
which regulates the particles of dust beneath our feet. —
Here was a mind, not merely great by toil, but constitu-
tionally great and inventive ; a mind which was regula-
ted in its action, not by the law of mere contiguity in time
and place, but by the more effective associating principles
of Analogy, and of Cause and Effect.
^ 152. The foregoing law as applicable to the sensibilities.
The law under consideration holds good, in the second
(ll.) SECONDARY LAWS. 165
place, in respect to original differences of emotion and
passion, or, as it is more commonly expressed, of disposi-
tion. It will help to make us understood if we allude
briefly in this part of the subject to two different classes
of persons. One of the descriptions of men which we
have now in view is composed of those, for such are un-
doubtedly to be found, who are of a pensive and melan-
choly turn. From their earliest life they have shown
a fondness for seclusion, in order that they might either
commune with the secrets of their own hearts, or hold in-
tercourse; undisturbed by others, with whatever of im-
pressiveness and sublimity is to be found in the works of
nature. The other class are naturally of ^ lively and
cheerful temperament. If they delight in nature, it is
not in solitude, but in the company of others. While
they seldom throw open their hearts for the admission of
troubled thoughts, they oppose no obstacle to the entrance
of the sweet beams of peace, and joy, and hope.
NoAV it is beyond question that the primary laws of as-
sociation are influenced by the constitutional tendencies
manifest in these two classes of persons ; that is to say,
in the minds of two individuals, the one of a cheerful, the
other of a melancholy or gloomy disposition, the trains
of thought will be very different. This difference is fine-
ly illustrated in those beautiful poems of Milton, l'alle •
Guo and il penseroso. L' allegro, or the cheerful man,
finds pleasure and cheerfulness in every object w^hich he
beholds. The great sun puts on his amber light, the
mower whets his scythe, the milkmaid sings,
" And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale."
But the man of a melancholy disposition, il penseroso,
chooses the evening for his walk, as most suitable to the
temper of his mind ; he listens from some lonely hillock
to the distan" curfew, and loves to hear the song of that
" sweet bird
" That shun'st the^ioise of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy,"
F;:rther : Our trains of suggested thoughts will be
modified by those temporary feelings, which may be re-
1H6 JMEMOKY.
garded as exceptions to the more general character of
our dispositions. The cheerful man is not always cheer-
ful, nor is the melancholy man at all times equally sober
and contemplative. They are known to exchange char-
acters for short periods, sometimes in consequence of good
or ill health, or of happy or adverse fortune, and some-
times for causes which cannot be easily explained. So
that our mental states will be found to follow each other
with a succession, varying not only with the general char-
acter of our temper gind dispositions, but with the transi-
tory emotions of the day or hour.
All the laws of association may properly be given here
in a condensed view. The primary or general laws are
RESEMBLANCE, CONTRAST, CONTIGUITY in time and place,
and CAUSE and effecf. Those circumstances which are
found particularly to modify and control the action of
these, are termed secondary laws, and are as follows :
Lapse of time. Repetition or habit, Co-existent feeling,
and Constitutional difference in mental character.
CHAPTER Vn.
MEMORY.
^ 153. Remarks on the general nature of memory.
In the further prosecution of our subject, we naturally
proceed from Association to the examination of the
Memory, inasmuch as the latter necessarily implies the
antecedent existence of the former, and in its very na-
ture is closely allied to it. In reference to the great ques-
tion of the Origin of human Knowledge, the Memory, as
has already been intimated, is to be considered a source
of knowledge, rather in its connexion with other mental
susceptibilities than in itself. It does not appear how
we could form any abstract ideas, based upon a knowl-
edge of objects and classes of objects, without the aid of
memory ; and it is well known, that its presence and ac-
tion is essentially involved in all the exercises of the rea-
MEMORY. 167
soiling power and of the imagination. Without delaying,
however, on its connexion with the origin of knowledge,
we shall proceed to consider the susceptibility itself, both
in its general nature and in some of its pecidiarities.
Memory is that power or susceptibility of the mind by
which those conceptions are originated which are modi-
fied by a perception of the relation of past time. Ac-
cordingly, it is not a simple, but complex action of the
intellectual principle, implying, (1.) a conception of the
object ; (2.) a perception of the relation of priority in its
existence. That is, we not only have a conception of
the object, but this conception is attended with the con-
viction that it underwent the examination of our senses,
or was in some way perceived by us at some former pe-
riod.
When we imagine that we stand in the midst of a for-
est or on the top of a mountain, but remain safe all the
while at our own fireside, these pleasing ideas of woods^
and of skies painted over us, and of plains under our
feet, are mere conceptions. But when with these insu-
lated conceptions we connect the relation of time, and
they gleam upon our souls as the w^oods, plains, and
mountains of our youthful days, then those intellectual
states, which were before mere conceptions, become re-
membrances. And the power which the mind possesses
of originating these latter complex states, is what usually
goes under the name of the power or faculty of memory.
^ 154. Of memory as aground or law of belief.
Memory, as explained in the preceding section, is a
ground or law of Belief. So far as we have no particu-
lar reason to doubt that the sensations and perceptions in
any given case are correctly reported in the remembrance,
the latter controls our belief and actions not less than
those antecedent states of mind on which it is founded.
Such is the constitution of the human mind. — ^It will be
ilpticed, that, in asserting the gatural dependence of be-
lief on memory, we guard it by an expiess limitation. It
is only when we have no reason to doubt of our antece-
dent experiences being correctly reported in the remem-
brances, that our reliance on them is of the highest kind
168 MEMORY.
Every man knows, from a species of internal feeling
whether there be grounds for doubting his memory in any
particular case or not ; for the same Consciousness which
gives him a knowledge of the fact of memory, gives him
a knowledge of the degree also in which it exists ; viz.,
whether in a high degree or low, whether distinct or ob-
scure. If it be the fact that he finds reason for suspect-
ing its reports, his reliance will either be diminished in
proportion to this suspicion, or he will take means, if he
be able to, to remove the grounds of such suspicion.
It cannot reasonably be anticipated, that any objection
will be made to the doctrine of a reliance on memory,
wdth the limitation which has now been mentioned.
Without such reliance, our situa-tion would be no better,
at least, than if we had been framed with an utter ina-
bility to rely on the Senses or on Testimony ; we could
hardly sustain an existence ;'we certainly could not de-
rive anything in aid of that existence from the experi-
ence of the past.
^ 155. Of differences in the strength of memory.
The ability to remember is the common privilege of all,
and, generally speaking, it is possessed in nearly equa
degrees. To each one there is given a sufficient readi-
ness in this respect : his power of rememl)rance is such as
to answer all the ordinary purposes of life. But, although
there is, in general, a nearly equal distribution of this
power, we find a few instances of great weakness, and
other instances of great strength of memory.
It is related by Seneca of the Roman orator Horten-
sius, that, after sitting a whole day at a public sale, he
gave an account, from memory, in the evening, of all things
sold, with the prices and the names of the purchasers ;
and this account, when compared with what had been
taken in writing by a notary, was found to be exact in
every particular.
The following is an instance of strength of memory
somewhat remarkable. — An Englishman, at a certain
time, came to Frederic the Great of Prussia, for the ex-
press purpose of giving him an exhibition of his power of
recollection. Frederic sent for Voltaire, who read to the
MEMORY. iTO
king a pretty long poem which he had just finished. The
Englishman was present, and was in such a position that
he could hear every word of the poem ; but was conceal-
ed from Voltaire's notice. After the reading of the poem
was finished, Frederic observed to the author that the
production could not be an original one, as there was a
foreign gentleman present w^ho could recite every word
of it Voltaire listened with amazement to the stranger,
as he repeated, word for word, the poem which he had
been at so much pains in composing ; and, giving way to
a momentary freak of passion, he tore the manuscript in
pieces. A statement was then made to him of the cir-
cumstances under which the Englishman became ac-
quainted with his poem, which had the effect to mitigate
his anger, and he was very willing to do penance for the
suddenness of his passion by copying down the w^ork
from a second repetition of it by the stranger, who was
able to go through with it as before.
A considerable number of instances of this description
are found in the recorded accounts of various individuals ;
but they must be considered as exceptions to the general
features of the human mind, the existence of which it is
diflScult to explain on any known principles. They are
probably original and constitutional traits ; and, if such
be the case, they necessarily preclude any explanation
further than what is involved in tlie mere statement of
that fact. There are, however, some diversities and pe-
culiarities of memory, less striking, perhaps, than those
just referred to, w^hich admit a more detailed notice
( 156. Of circumstantial memory, or that species of memory which is
based on the relati6ns of contiguity in time and place.
There is a species of memory, more than usually obvi-
!)\is and outward in its character, which is based essen-
tially upon the relations of Contiguity in time and place.
— In the explanation of this form or species of memory,
i^may be proper to recur ?. moment to the explanatioiis
on the general nature of memory which have already been
given. It will be kept in mind, that our remembrances
are merely conceptions modified by a perception of thr
relation of past time. Removing, then, the modificatioxi
P
170 MKMORY.
of past time, and the remaining element of our remem-
brances will be conceptions merely. Our conceptions, it
is obvious, cannot be called up by a mere voluntary ef-
fort, because to will the existence of a conception neces-
sarily implies the actual existence of the conception al-
ready in the mind. They arise in the mind, therefore, in
obedience to the influence of some of those principles of
ASSOCIATION which have already been considered. And
Memoiy, accordingly, will assume a peculiarity of aspect
corresponding to the associating principle which predom-
mates. If it be based, for instance, on the law of Con-
tiguity, as it will deal chiefly with mere facts, and theii
outward incidents and circumstances, without entering
deeply into their interior nature, it will be what may be
described, not merely as an obvious and practical, but, in
particular, as a circumstantial memory. If it be based
chiefly on the other principles, it may be expected to ex-
hibit a less easy and flexible, a less minute and specific,
but a more philosophical character.
That species of memory which is founded chiefly on
the law of contiguity, and which is distinguished by its
specificalness or circumstantiality, will be found to pre-
vail especially among uneducated people, not merely arti-
sans and other labouring classes, but among all those, in
whatever situation of life, who have either not possessed,
or possessing, have not employed, the means of intellect-
ual culture. Every one must have recollected instances
of the great readiness exhibited by these persons, in theii
recollection of facts, places, times, names, specific arrange-
ments in drf ss and in buildings, traditions, and local inci-
dents. In their narrations, for instance, of what has come
within their knowledge, they willj in general, be found
to specify the time of events ; not merely an indefinite or
approximated time, but the identical year, and month,
and day, and hour. In their description of persons and
places, and in their account of the dress and equipage of
persons, and of the localities and incidents of places, they
are found to be no less particular.
^ 157. Illustrations of specific or circumstantial memory.
The great masters of human nature (Shakspeare amon^
MEMORY. 171
others) have occasionally indicated their knowledge of
this species of niemory. Mrs. Quickly, in reminding Fal-
staff of his promise of marriage, discovers her readiness
of recollection tn. the specification of the great variety of
circumstances under which the promise was made. Her
recollection in the case was not a mere general remem-
brance of the solitary fact, but was, in the manner of a
witness in a court of justice, circumstantial. — " Thou didst
swear to me on a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin
chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, on Wed-
nesday in Whitsun week, when the prince broke thy head
for likening him to a singing man of Windsor." — The
coachman in Cornelius Scriblerus gives an account of
what he had seen in Bear Garden : " Two men fought for
a prize ; one was a fair man, a sergeant in the guards ;
the other black, a butcher ; the sergeant had red trousers,
the butcher blue ; they fought upon a stage about four
o'clock, and the sergeant wounded the butcher in the leg."
() 158. Of philosophic memory, or that species of memory which is based
on other relations than those of contiguity.
There is another species of memory, clearly distinguish-
able from the circumstantial memory, which may be de-
scribed as the Philosophic. This form of memory, relying
but seldom on the aids of mere Contiguity, is sustained
chiefly by the relations of Resemblance, Contrast, and
Cause and Effect. The circumstantial memory, which
deals almost exclusively with minute particulars, and es-
pecially with those which are accessible by the outward
senses, admirably answers the purpose of those persons in
whom it is commonly found. But mere contiguity in time
and place, which is almost the sole principle that binds
togiither facts and events in the recollection of those whose
powers are but imperfectly developed, possesses compar-
atively little value in the estimation of the philosopher.
He looks more deeply into the nature of things. Bestow-
i|>g but slight attention on what is purely outward and
mcidental, he detects with a discriminating eye the anal-
ogies and oppositions, the causes and consequences of
events. It would seem that the celebrated Montaigne
was destitute, perha^ >s in a more than common degree, of
172 MEM01.Y.
that form of reminiscence which we have proposed to
designate as the circumstantial memory. He says on a
certain occasion of himself, " I am forced to call my ser-
vants by the names of their employments, or of the coun-
tries where they were born,- for I can hardly remember
their proper names ; and if I should live long, I question
whether I should remember my own name." But it does
not appear, notwithstanding his inability to remember
names and insulated facts, especially if they related to
the occurrences of common life, that he had much reason
to complain of an absolute w^ant of memory. His wri-
tings indicate his cast of mind, that he was reflective and
speculative ; and he expressly gives us to understand, that
he was much m^ore interested in the study of the princi-
ples of human nature than of outward objects. Accord-
mgly, the result was such as might be expected, that his
memory was rather philosophical than circumstantial,
and more tenacious of general principles than of specific
facts.
^ 159. Illustrations of philosophic memory.
A man whose perceptions are naturally philosophic, and
whose remembrances consequently take the same turn,
may not be able to make so rapid and striking advances
in all branches of knowledge, as a person of a different
intellectual bias. Almost every department of science
presents itself to the student's notice under two forms,
the practical and theoretical ; its facts and its rules of
proceeding on the one hand, and its principles on the
other. The circumstantial memory rapidly embraces the
practical part, seizing its facts and enunciating its rules
with a promptness of movement and a show of power
which throws the philosophic memory quite into the
shade. But it is otherwise when they advance into the
.ess obvious and showy, but more fertile region of analo-
gies, classification, and principles. — On this topic Mr.
Stewart has some pertinent remarks. " A man destitute
of genius," [that is to say, in this connexion, of a natu-
rally philosophic turn of mind,] " may, with little effort,
treasure up in his memory a number of particulars in
chemistry or natural history, which he refers to no prin-
MEMORY 173
ciple, and from which he deduces no conclusion ; and from
his facility in 'acquiring this stock of information, may
flatter himself with the belief that he possesses a na':ural
taste for these branches of knowledge. But they who
are really destined to extend the boundaries of science,
when they first enter on new pursuits, feel their attention
distracted, and their memory overloaded with facts,
among which they can trace no relation, and are some-
times apt to despair entirely of their future progress. In
due time, however, their superiority appears, and arises
in part from that very dissatisfaction which they at first
experienced, and which does not cease to stimulate their
inquiries, till they are enabled to trace, amid a chaos of
apparently unconnected materials, that simplicity and
beauty which always characterize the operations of na-
ture."
4 160. Of that species of memory called intentional recollection.
There is a species or exercise of the memory known
as INTENTIONAL RECOLLECTION, the explanation of which
renders it proper briefly to recur again to the nature of
memory in general. — The definition of memory which has
been given, is, that it is the power or susceptibility of the
mind, by which those conceptions are originated, which
are modified by the perception of the relation of past
time. This definition necessarily resolves memory, in a
considerable degree at least, into Association. But it will
be recollected, that our trains of associated thought are
not, in the strict sense, voluntary ; that is, are not directly
under the control of the will. They come, and depart
(we speak now exclusively of their origination) without
its being possible for us to exercise anything more than
an indirect power over them. It follows, from these
facts, that our remembrances also, which may be regard-
ed in part as merely associated trains, are not, in the
strict sense, voluntary ; or, in other words, it is impossible
^r us to remember in consequence of merely choosing to
remember. To will or to choose to remember any-
thing, implies that the thing in question is already in the*
mind ; and hence there is not only an impossibility result-
ing from the nature of the mind, but also an absurdity, in
P2
f74 MEMORY.
the idea of calling up thought by a mere direct volition.
Our chief power, therefore, in quickening and strength-
ening the memory, will be found to consist in our skill in
applying and modifying the various principles or laws of
association. And this brings us to an explanation of
what is called intentional memory or recollection.
^ 161. Nature of intentional recollection.
Whenever we put forth an exercise of intentional
memory, or make a formal attempt to remember some cir-
cumstance, it is evident that the event in general, of
which the circumstance, when recalled, will be found to
be a part, must have previously been an object of atten-
tion. That is, we remember the great outlines of some
story, but cannot in the first instance give a complete ac-
count of it, which we wish to do. We make an effort to
recall the circumstances not remembered in two ways. —
We may, in the^r^^ place, form different suppositions,
and see which agrees best with the general outlines ; the
general features or outlines of the subject being detained
before us, with a considerable degree of permanency, by
means of some feeling of desire or interest. This method
of restoring thoughts is rather an inference of reasoning
than a germine exercise of memory. •
We may, in the second place, merely delay upon those
thoughts which we already hold possession of, and re-
volve them in our minds ; until, aided by some principle
of association, we are able to lay hold of the particular
ideas for which we were searching. Thus, when we en-
deavour to .recite what we had previously committed to
memory, but are at a loss for a particular passage, we
repeat a number of times the concluding words of the
preceding sentence. In this way, the sentence which
was forgotten is very frequently recalled.
^ 162. Instance illustrative of the preceding statements.
The subject of the preceding section will perhaps U'
more distinctly understood, in connexion with the follow-
ing illustration. Dr. Beattie informs us, that he was hira
self acquainted with a clergyman, who, on being attack-
ed with a fit of apoplexy, was found to have forgotten
MEMOKi. 175
all tlie transactions of the four years immediately pre-
ceding the attack. And yet he remembered as well as
ever what had happened before that period. The news-
papers which w^ere printed during the period mentioned,
were read with interest, and afforded him a great deal of
amusement, being entirely new to him. It is further
stated, that this individual recovered by degrees all he
had lost ; so as, after a while, to have nearly or quite as
full a remembrance of that period as others. In this in-
stance the power of tlie principles of association appears
to have been at first completely prostrated by the disease,
without any prospect of their being again brought into
action, except by some assistance afforded them. This
assistance, no doubt, was conversation, the renewed no-
tice of various external objects addressed to the senses,
and reading. By reading old newspapers, and by con-
versation in particular, he occasionally fell upon ideas
which he had not only been possessed of before, but
which had been associated with other ideas, forming
originally distinct and condensed trains of thought. And
thus whole series were restored. — Other series again were
recovered by applying the methods of intentional recol-
lection ; that is, by forming suppositions and comparing
them with the ideas already recovered, or by voluntarily
delaying upon and revolving in mind such trains as were
restored, and thus rousing up others. Such we can hard-
ly doubt to have been, in the main, the process by which
the person of whom we are speaking recovered the
knowledge he had lost.
These views, in addition to what has now been said,
may be illustrated also by what we sometimes observe in
old men. Question them as to the events of early life,
and at times they will be unable to give any answer
whatever. But w^henever you mention some prominent
mcident of their young days, or perhaps some friend on
whom many associations have gathered, it will often be
f«und that their memory reviv^, and that they are able
to state many things in respect to which they were pre-
viously silent.
4 163. Marks of a good memory.
The great purpose to which the faculty of memory is
jl76 memory.
subsorvient, is to enable us to retain the knowledge which
we have from our experiences for future use. The
prominent marks of a good memory, therefoi'e, are these
two, viz., tenacity in retaining ideas, and readiness in
bringing them forward on necessary occasions.
FnisT ; of tenacity, or power of retaining ideas. — The
impressions which are made on some minds are dm^able.
They are like channels worn away in stone, and names
engraven in monumental marble, w^hich defy the opera-
tion of the ordinary causes of decay, and v/ithstand even
the defacing touch of time. But other memories, which
at first seemed to grasp as much, are destitute of this
power of retention. The inscriptions made upon them
are like characters written on the sand, which the first
breath of wind covers over, or like figures on a bank of
snow, which the sun shines upon and melts. The inferi-
ority of the latter description of memory to the former
must be obvious ; so much so as to require no comment.
A memory, whose power of retaining is greatly dimin-
ished, of course loses a great part of its value.
Second; of readiness, or facility in bringing forward
what is remembered. — Some persons who cannot be sup-
posed to be deficient in tenacity of remembrance, appear
to fail in a confident and prompt command of what they
remember. Some mistake has been committed in the ar-
rangement of their knowledge ; there has been some de-
fect in the mental discipline ; or for some other cause,
whatever it may be, they often discover perplexity, and
remember slowly and indistinctly. This is a great prac-
tical evil, which not only ought to be, but which can, in
a great degree, be guarded against.
It is true, that so great readiness of memory cannot
rationally be expected in men of philosophic minds as
others, for the reason that they pay but little or no atten-
tion to particular facts, except for the purpose of dedu-
cing from them general principles. But it is no less true,
that, when this want of readiness is such as to cause a
considerable degree of perplexity, it must be regarded a
great mental delect. And, for the same reason, a promp.1
command of knowledge is to be regarded a mental ex-
cellence.
MEMORY. 177
^ 164. Directions or rules for the improvement or the memory.
In whatever point of view the memory may be con
templated, it must be admitted that it is a faculty always
securing to us inestimable benefits. For the purpose of
securing the most efficient action of this valuable faculty,
and particularly that tenacity and readiness which have
been spoken of, the following directions may be found
worlhy of attention.
(1.) JVever be satisfied with a 'partial or hcdf-acquaint-
unce with things.-PThere is no less a tendency to intel-
lectual than to bodily inactivity ;) students, in order to
avoid intellectual toil, are too much inclined to pass on
in a hurried and careless manner. This is injurious to
the memory. *"' Nothing," says Dugald Stewart, " hfis
such a tendency to weaken, not only the powers of inven-
tion, but the intellectual powers in general, as a habit of
extensive and various reading without reflection." Al-
ways make it a rule fully to understand what is gone
over. Those who are determined to grapple with the
subject in hand, whatever may be its nature, and to be-
come master of it, soon feel a great interest ; truths,
which were at first obscure, become clear and familiar.
The consequence of this increased clearness and interest
is an increase of attention ; and the natural result of this
*s, that the truths are very strongly fixed in the memory,
(II.) We are to refer our knowledge, as much as possi-
ble, to general principles. — To refer our knowledge to
general principles is to classify it ; and this is perhaps the
best mode of classification. If a lawyer or merchant
were to throw all his papers together promiscuously,
he could not calculate on much readiness in finding
what he might at any time want. If a man of letters
were to record in a commonplace book all the ideas and
facts w^hich occurred to him, w^ithout any method, he
would experience the greatest difficulty in applying them
to use. It is the same with a memory'where there is no
iiassification. Whoever fixes jipon some general princi-
ples, whether political, literary, or philosophical, and col-
lects facts in illustration of it, will find no difficulty in re-
memb(!ring them, however numerous ; when, without such
general principles, the recollection of them would have
been extremely burdensome.
178 MEMORY.
(HI. ) Consider the nature of the study, and make use of
those helps which are thus c^orded. — This rule may be
illustrated by the mention of some departments of sci-
ence. Thus, in acquiring a knowledge of geography,
the study is to be pursued as much as possible with the
aid of good globes, charts, and maps. It requires a
gTeat effort of memory, and generally an unsuccessful
one, to recollect the relative extent and situation of pla-
ces, the numerous physical and political divisions of the
earth, from the book. The advantages of studying geog-
raphy with maps, globes, &c., are two. (1.) The form,
relative situation, and extent of countries become, in this
case, ideas, or, rather, conceptions of sight ; such con-
ceptions (§ 60) are very vivid, and are more easily called
to remembrance than others.
(2.) Our remembrances are assisted by the law of con-
tiguity in place, (§ 145,) which is known to be one of
the most efficient aids. When we have once, from hav-
ing a map or globe before us, formed an acquaintance
with the general visible appearance of an island, a gulf,
an ocean, or a continent, nothing is more easy than to re-
member the subordinate divisions or parts. Whenever
we have examined, and fixed in our minds the general
appearance or outlines of a particular country, we do not
easily forget the situation of those countries which are
contiguous.
We find another illustration of this rule in the reading
of history. — ^There is such a multitude of facts in histori-
cal writings, that to endeavour to remember them all is
fruitless ; and, if it could be done, would be of very
small advantage. Hence, in reading the history of any
country, fix upon two or three of the most interesting
epochs ; make them the subject of particular attention ;
learn thr. spirit of the age, and the private life and for-
tunes of prominent individuals ; in a word, study these
periods not only as annalists, but as philosophers. When
they aie thus studied, the mind can hardly fail to retain
them ; they will be a sort of landmarks ; and all the oth-
er events in the history of the country, before and after-
ward, will naturally arrange themselves in reference to
them The memory will strongly seize the prominent
MEMORY. 179
periods, in consequence of the great interest felt in them ;
and the less important parts of the history of the country
will be likely to be retained, so far as is necessary, by the
aid of the principle of contiguity, and without giving
them great attention. — Further, historical charts or genea-
logical trees of history are of some assistance, for a simr
ilar reason that maps, globes, &c., are in geography.
This rule for strengthening the memory will apply also
to the more abstract sciences. — " In every science," says
Stewart, (Elements, ch. vi., § 3,) " the ideas, about which
it is peculiarly conversant, are connected together by some
associating principle ; in one science, for instance, by as-
sociations founded on the relation of cause and effect; in
another, by the associations founded on the necessary re-
lations of mathematical truths."
^ 165. Further directions for the improvement of the memory.
(IV.) The order in which things are laid up in the
memory should be the order of nature. — In nature eve-
rything has its appropriate place, connexions, and rela-
tions. Nothing is insulated, and wholly cut off, as it were,
from everything else ; but whatever exists or takes place
falls naturally into its allotted position within the great
sphere of creation and events. , Hence the rule, that
knowledge, as far forth as possible, should exist mentally
or subjectively in the same order as the corresponding ob-
jective reality exists.; The laws of the mind will be
found in their operatfon to act in harmony with the laws
of external nature. They are, in some sense, the counter-
parts of each other. We might illustrate the benefits of
the application of this rule by referring to almost any
well-digested scientific article, historical narration, poem,
&c. But perhaps its full import will be more readily un-
derstood by an instance of its utter violation.
A person was one day boasting, in the presence of
Foote, the comedian, of the wonderful facility with which
^ could commit anything to memory, when the modern
Aristophanes said he would ^rite down a dozen lines
in prose which he could not commit to memory in as
many minutes. The man of great memory accepted the
challenge; a v/ager was laid, and Foote produced the
18K) MEMOET.
following-. — ** So she went into the garden, to cut a cab-
bage-leaf to make an apple-pie ; and at the same time a
great she-bear coming up the street, pops its head into
the shop. What, no soap ? So he die^, and she very
imprudently married the barber ; and there were present
the Piciniunies, and the Joblillies, and the Gar^'ulies, and
the grand Panjandrum himself, with the little round but-
ton at the top ; and they all fell to playing catch as catch
can, till the gunpowder ran out of the heels of their
boots." — The story adds that Foote won the wager. And
it is very evident that statements of this description, ut-
terly disregarding the order of nature and events, must
defy, if carried to any great length, the strongest memory.
(V.) The memory may he strengthened by exercise. —
Our minds, when lef iO sloth and inactivity, lose their vig-
our ; but when they are kept in exercise, and, after per-
forming what was before them, are tasked with new re-
quisitions, it is not easy to assign limits to their ability.
This seems to be a general and ultimate law of our na-
ture. It is applicable equally to every original suscepti-
bility, and to every combination of mental action. In re-
peated instances we have had occasion to refer to its
results, both on the body and the mind. The power of
perception is found to acquire strength and acuteness by
exercise. There are habits of conception and of associa-
tion as well as of perception ; and we shall be able to
detect the existence and operation of the same great
principle, when we come to speak of reasoning, im-
agination, &c. As this principle applies equally to the
memory, we are able to secure its beneficial results by
practising that repetition or exercise on which they are
founded.
^ 166. Of observance of the truth in connexion with memory.
Another help to the memory, which has seldom been
noticed, and certainly not so much as its importance de-
mands, is the conscientious and strict observance of the
truth. — It will be found, on inquiry, that those who are
scrupulous in this respect will be more prompt and exact
in their recollections, within the sphere of what they un-
dertake to remember, than others. A man of this descrip-
DURATiON OF MEMORY. 181
tion may possibly not remember so much as others ; for
the same conscientiousness, which is* the basis of his ve-
racity, would instinctively teach him to reject from his
intellectual storehouse a great deal of worthless trash.
But within the limits which, for good reasons, undoubt-
edly, he sets to his recollections, he will be much more
exact, much more to be relied on, provided there is no
original or constitutional ground of difference. It has
been suggested in regard to Dr. Johnson, that his rigid
attention to veracity, his conscientious determination to
be exact in his statements, was the reason, in a consider-
able degree, that his memory was so remarkably tenacious
and minute. And the suggestion is based in sound phi-
losophy. If a man's deep and conscientious regard for
the truth be such that he cannot, consistently with the
requisitions of his moral nature, repeat to others mere
vaguenesses and uncertainties, he will naturally give such
strict and serious attention to the present objects of inquiry
and knowledge, ^hat they will remain in his memory after-
Ward with remaikable distinctness and permanency.
//
CHAPTER VIII.
DURATION OF MEMORY.
^ 167. Restoration of thoughts and feelings supposed to be forgotten.
Before quitting the subject of Memory, there is anothei
point of view not wholly wanting in interest, in which il
is susceptible of being considered ; and that is the per-
manency or duration of its power to call up its past ex-
periences. It is said to have been an opinion of Lord
Bacon, that no thoughts are lost ; that they continue vir-
tually to exist ; and that the soul possesses within itself
laws which, whenever fully brought into action, will be
' found capable of producing the prompt and perfect resto-
ration of the collected acts and feelings of its whole past
existence.
This opinion, wdiich other able writers have fallen in
with, is clearly worthy of examination, especially when
Q
182 DURATION OF MEMORY.
we consider that it has a practical bearing, and invo.ves
important meral and reUgious consequences. Some one
will perhaps inquire, Is it possible, is it in the nature of
things, that we should be able to recall the millions of
little acts and feelings which have transpired in the whole
course of our lives ? Let such an inquirer be induced to
consider, in the first place, that the memory has its fixed
laws, in virtue of which the mental exercises are recalled ;
and that there can be found no direct and satisfactory
proof of such laws ever wholly ceasing to exist. That
the operation of those" laws appears to be weakened, and
is in fact weakened, by lapse of time, is admitted ; but
while the frequency, promptness, and strength of theii
action may be diminished in any assignable degree, the
laws themselves yet remain. This is the view of the sub-
ject which at first obviously and plainly presents itself;
and, we may venture to add, is recommended by common
experience.
It is known to every one, that thoughts and feelinos
sometimes unexpectedly recur which had slumbered in
forgetfulness for years. Days, and months, and years
have rolled on; new scenes and situations occupy us;
and all we felt, and saw, and experienced in those former
days and years, appears to be clothed in impenetrable,
darkness. But suddenly some unexpected event, the
sight of a waterfall, of a forest, of a house, a peculiarly
pleasant or gloomy day, a mere change of countenance,
a word, almost anything we can imagine, arouses the
soul, and gives a new and vigorous turn to its meditations.
At such a moment we are astonished at the novel revela-
tions which are made, the recollections which are called
forth, the resurrections of withered hopes and perished
sorrows, of scenes and companionships that seemed to be
utterly lost
*' Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain,
Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain.
Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise !
Each stamps its image as the other flies."
This is, perhaps, a faint exhibition of that perfect resto-
ration of thought which Bacon and other philosophic minds
have supposed to be possible. But if the statement be
DURATION OF MEMORY 183
correct, it is undoubtedly one circumstance among others
in support of- that sentiment, although of subordinate
weight.
(} 168. Mental action quickened by influence on the physical system.
The ability of the mind to restore its past experiences,
depends, in some degree, on the state of the physical sys-
tem. It is well known that there is a connexion existing
between the mind and the body, and that a reciprocal
influence is exercised. It is undoubtedly true, that the
mental action is ordinarily increased or diminished, ac-
cording as the body is more or less affected. And may
not the exercise of the laws of memory be quickened, as
well as the action of other powers ? While it is admitted
that an influence on the body exerts an influence on the
mind, may it not be true that this general influence some-
times takes the particular shape of exciting the recollec-
tion, and of restoring long-past events ?
There are various facts having a bearing on this inqui-
ry, and which seem to show that such suggestions are not
wholly destitute of foundation.— It appears, for instance,
from the statements of persons who have been on the
point of drowning, but have been rescued from that situ-
ation, that the operations of their minds were peculiarly
quickened. In this wonderful activity of the mental prin-
ciple, the whole past life, with its thousand minute inci-
dents, has almost simultaneously passed before them, and
been viewed as in a mirror. Scenes and situations long-
gone by, and associates not seen for years, and perhaps
buried and dissolved in the grave, came rushing in upon
the field of intellectual vision in all the activity and dis-
tinctness of real existence.
If such be the general experience in cases of this kind,
it confirms a number of important views ; placing beyond
doubt that there is a connexion between the mind and
Dody.; that the mental operation is susceptible of being
quickened ; and that such increase of action may be at-
tributable, in part at least, t9 an influence on the body.
The proximate cause of the great acceleration of the in-
tellectual acts, in cases of drowning, appears to be (as
will be found to be the fact in many other similar caseS^
184 DURATION OF MEMORY.
an affection of the brain. That is to say ; in consequencv
of the suspension of respiration, the blood is prevented
from readily circulating through the lungs, and hence
becomes accumulated in the brain. It would seem that
the blood is never thrown into the brain in unusual quan-
tities without being attended with unusual mental affec-
tions.
^ 169. Other instances of quickened mental action, and of a restoration
of thoughts.
The doctrine which has been proposed, that the mental
action may be quickened, and that there may be a resto-
ration or remembrance of all former thoughts and feel-
ings, is undoubtedly to be received or rejected in view of
facts. The only question in this case, as in others, is,
What is truth ? And how are we to arrive at the truth ?
If the facts which have been referred to be not enough
to enable one to form an opinion, there are others of a
like tendency, and in a less uncertain form. A powerful
disease, w^hile at some times it prostrates the mind, at
others imparts to it a more intense action. The follow-
ing passage from a recent work (although the cause of
the mental excitement, in the instance mentioned in it, is
not stated) may properly be appealed to in this connex-
ion. — " Past feelings, even should they be those of our
earliest moments of infancy, never cease to be under the
influence of the law of association, and they are constant-
ly liable to be renovated, even to the latest period of life,
although they may be in so faint a state as not to be the
object of consciousness.
" It is evident, then, that a cause of mental excitement
may so act upon a sequence of extremely faint feelings,
as to render ideas, of which the mind had long been pre-
viously unconscious, vivid objects of consciousness. Thus
it is recorded of a female in France, that while she was
subjected to such an influence, the memory of the Armor-
ican language, which she had lost since she was a child,
suddenly returned."*
^ 170. Effect on the memory of a severe attack of fever.
We may add here the following account of the mental
* Hibbert's Philosophy of Apparitions, part iv., chapter v.
DURATION OF MEMORY. 18&
affeclions of an intelligent American traveller. He was
travelling in the State of Illinois, and suffered the com-
mon lot of visitants from other climates, in being taken
down with a bilious fever. — " As very few live," he re-
marks, " to record the issue of a sickness like mine, and
as you have requested me, and as I have promised to be
particular, I will relate some of the circumstances of this
disease. And it is in my view desirable, in the bitter ag-
Dny of such diseases, that more of the symptoms, sensa-
tions, and sufferings should be recorded than have been ;
and that others in similar predicaments may know that
some before them have had sufferings like theirs, and have
survived them.
" I had had a fever before, and had risen and be6n dress-
ed every day. But in this, with the first day, I was pros-
trated to infantile weakness, and felt with its first attack
that it was a thing very different from what I had yet
experienced. Paroxysms of derangement occurred the
' third day, and this was to me a new state of mind. Thai
state of disease in which partial derangement is mixed
with a consciousness generally sound, and a sensibility
preternaturally excited, I should suppose the most dis-
tressing of all its forms. At the same time that I was
unable to recognise my friends, I was informed that my
memory luas more than ordinarily exact and retentive,
and that I repeated whole passages in the different lan-
guages, ivhich 1 knew vnth entire accuracy. 1 recited,
vnthout losing or misplacing a word, a passage of poetry,
which I could not so repeat after IJiad recovered my
health;' &c.*
^ 171. Approval and illustrations of these views from Coleridge.
An opinion favourable to the doctrine of the durabili-
ty of memory, and the ultimate restoration of thought
and feeling, is expressed in the BiooRi^PHiA Literaria of
Coleridge, in an article on the Laws of association. In
Confirmation of it, the writer«introduces a statement of
certain facts which became known to him in a tour in
Germany in 1798, to the following effect.
In a Catholic town of Germany, a young woman of
* Flint's Recollections of the Valley of the Mississippi, letter xiv.
Q2
186 DURATION OF MEiviOR\
four or five-and- twenty, who could neither read nor write,
was seized with a nervous fever, during which she was
incessantly talking Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, with much
pomp and distinctness of enunciation. The case attract-
ed much attention, and many sentences which she utter-
ed, being taken down by some learned persons present,
were found to be coherent and intelligible, each for itself,
but with little or no connexion with each other. Of the
Hebrew only a small portion could be traced to the Bible ;
the remainder was that form of Hebrew which is usually
called Rabbinic. Ignorant, and simple, and harmless, as
this young woman was known to be, no one suspected
any deception ; and no explanation could for a long time
be given, although inquiries were made for that purpose
in different families where she had resided as a servant.
Through the zeal, however, and philosophical spirit of
a young physician, all the necessary information was in the
end obtained. The woman was of poor parents, and at
nine years of age had been kindly taken to be brought
up by an old Protestant minister, who lived at some dis-
tance. He was a very learned man ; being not only a
great Hebraist, but acquainted also with Rabbinical wri-
tings, the Greek and Latin Fathers, &c. The passages
which had been taken down in the delirious ravings of
the young woman, were found by the physician precise-
ly to agree with passages in some books in those lan-
guages which had formerly belonged to him. But these
facts were not a full explanation of the case. It appear-
ed, on further inqi^ry, that the patriarchal Protestant had
been in the habit for many years of walking up and down
a passage of his house, into which the kitchen door open-
ed, and to read to himself with a loud voice out of his fa
vourite books. This attracted the notice of the poor and
ignorant doinestic whom he had taken into his family ;
the passages made an impression on her memory ; and al-
though probably for a long time beyond the reach of her
recollection when in health, they were at last vividly re-
stored, and were uttered in the way above mentioned, in
consequence of the feverish state of the physical system,
particularly of the brain.
From this instance, and from several others of the
I
DURATION OF MEMORY. 187
same kind, which Mr. Coleridge asserts can be brought
up, he is incUned to educe the fcJlowing positions or in-
ferences. — (1.) Our thoughts may, for an indefinite time,
exist in the same order in which they existed originally,
and in a latent or imperceptible state. — (2.) As a fever-
ish state of the brain (and, of course, any other peculiari-
ty in the bodily condition) cannot create thought itself,
nor make any approximation to it, but can only operate
as an excitement or quickener to the intellectual princi
pie, if is therefore probable, that all thoughts are, in
themselves, imperishable. — (3.) In order greatly to in-
crease the power of the intellect, he supposes it would
require only a different organization of its material ac-
companiment. — (4.) And, therefore, he concludes the
book of final judgment, which the Scriptures inform us
will at the last day be presented before the individuals of
the human race, may oe no other than the investment of
the soul w^th a celestial instead of a terrestrial body ; and
that this may be sufficient to restore the perfect record of
the multitude of its past experiences. He supposes it
may be altogether consistent with the nature of a living '
spirit, that heaven and earth should sooner pass away,
than that a single act or thought should be loosened and
effectually struck off from the great chain of its opera-
tions. — In giving these conclusions, the exact language of
the writer has not been followed, but the statement made
will be found to give what clearly seems to have been
his meaning.
^ 172. Application of the principles of this chapter to education.
Whether the considerations which have been brought
forward lead satisfactorily to the conclusion of the dura-
tion of memory, and of the possible "restoration of all
mental exercises, must of course be submitted to each
one's private judgment. But on the supposition that they
do, it must occur to every one, that certain practical
applications closely connect th^selves with this subject.
—The principle in question has, among other things, a
bearing on the education of the young ; furnishing a new
reason for the utmost circumspection in conducting it
The term education, in its application to the human min^
188 DURATION OF MEMORY.
is very extensive ; it includes the example and advice of
parents, and the influence of associates, as well as more
direct and formal instruction. Now if the doctrine under
consideration be true, it follows that a single remark of a
profligate and injurious tendency, made by a parent or
some other person in the presence of a child, though for-
gotten and neglected at the time, may be suddenly and
vividly recalled some twenty, thirty, or even forty years
after. It may be restored to the mind by a multitude of
unforeseen circumstances, and even those of the most tri-
fling kind ; and even at the late period when the voice
that uttered it is silent in the grave, may exert a most
pernicious influence. It may lead to unkindness ; it may
be seized and cherished as a justification of secret moral
and religious delinquencies ; it may prompt to a violation
of public laws ; and in a multitude of ways conduct to
sin, to ignominy, and wretchedness. Great care, there-
fore, ought to be taken, not to utter unadvised, false, and
evil sentiments in the hearing of the young, in the vain
expectation that they will do no hurt, because they will
be speedily and irrecoverably lost.
And, for the same reason, great care and pains should
be taken to introduce truth into the mind, and all correct
moral and religious principles. Suitably impress on the
mind of a child the existence of a God, and his parental
authority ; teach the pure and benevolent outlines of the
Redeemer's character, and the great truths and hopes of
the Gospel ; and these instructions form essential links in
the grand chain of memory, which no change of circum-
stances, nor lapse of time, nor combination of power, can
ever wholly strike out. They have their place assigned
them ; and though they may be concealed, they cannot
be obliterated. They may perhaps cease to exercise their
appropriate influence, and not be recalled for years ; the
pressure of the business and of the cares of life may have
driven them out from every prominent position, and bu-
ried them for a time. But the period of their resurrec-
tion is always at hand, although it may not be possible
for the limited knowledge of man to detect the signs of
it. Perhaps, in the hour of temptation to crime, they
come forth like forms and voices from the dead, and with
\
DURATION OF MEMORY. l89
more than their original freshness and power ; perhaps, in
the hour of misfortune, in the prison-house, or in the land
of banishment, they pay their visitations, and impart a
consolation which nothing else could have supplied ; they
come with the angel tones of parental reproof and lo\e,
and preserve the purity and check the despondency of
the soul.
§ 173. Connexion of this doctrine with the finaj judgment and a future life.
There remains one remark more, of a practical nature,
to be made. — The views which have been proposed in
respect to the ultimate restoration of all mental experien-
ces, may be regarded as in accordance with the Divine
Word. It may be safely affirmed, that no mental princi-
ple which, on a fair interpretation, is laid down in that
sacred book, will be found to be at variance with the
common experience of mankind. The doctrine of the
Bible, in respect to a future judgment, may well be sup-
posed to involve considerations relative to man's intellect-
ual and moral condition. In various passages they ex-
plicitly teach that the Saviour in the last day shall judge
the w^orld, and that all shall be judged according to the
deeds done in the body, whether they be good or wheth-
er they be evil. But an objection has sometimes been
raised of this sort, that we can never feel the justice of
that decision without a knowledge of our whole past life
on which it is founded, and that this is impossible. It
was probably this objection that Mr. Coleridge had in
view, when he proposed the opinion, that the clothing of
the soul with a celestial instead of a terrestrial body,
would be sufficient to restore the perfect record of its
past experiences.
In reference to this objection to the scriptural doctrine
of a final judgment, the remark naturally presents itself,
that it seems to derive its plausibility chiefly from an im-
perfect view of 'the constitution of the human mind. It
10 thought that we cannot be conscious of our whole past
life, because it is utterly forgotten, and is, therefore, whol-
ly irrecoverable. But the truth seems to be, that nothing
is wholly forgotten ; the probability that we shall be able
to recall our past thoughts may be greatly diminished,
190 REASONING.
but il does not become wholly extinct. The power of
reminiscence slumbers, but does not die. At the Judg
ment-day, we are entirely at liberty to suppose, from wha<
we know of the mind, that it will awake, that it will
sum.raon up thought and feeling from its hidden recesses
and will clearly present before us the perfect form and
representation of the past.
" Each fainter trace that memory holds
So darkly of departed years,
In one broad glance the soul beholds,
And all that was, at once appears."
//
CHAPTER ly
REASONINO
§ 174. Reasoning a source jf .deas and knowledge.
Leaving the considp'^^tion of the memory, we are next
to examine the powr . of Reasoning ; a subject of inquiry
abundantly interes'.ing in itself, and also in consequence
of its being one of the leading and fruiful sources of In-
ternal knowledge. For our knowledge of the opera-
tions of this faculty, we are indebted, as was seen in a
former chap/ .r, to Consciousness, which gives us our di-
rect knowlef ige of all other mental acts. But it will be
remarked, t' xat Reasoning is not identical with, or involv-
ed in, Cons.'-iousness. If consciousness give us a knowl-
edge of the act of reasoning, the reasoning power, opera
ting within its own limits and in its own right, gives us ?
knowledge of other things. It is a source of perceptions
and knowledge which we probably could not possess in
any other way.
Without the aid of Original Suggestion, it does not ap-
pear how we could have a knowledge of our existence ;
without Consciousness, w^e should not have a knowledge
of our mental operations ; without Relative Suggestion
or Judgment, which is also a distinct source of knowl-
edge, there would be no Reasoning ; and, unassisted by
Reasoning, we could have no knowledge of the relation*
REASONING. 19
of those things which cannot be compared without the
aid of intermediate propositions. The reasoning power
therefore, is to be regarded as a new and distinct fountain
of thought, which, as compared with the other sources of
knowledge just mentioned, opens itself still further in the
recesses of the Internal Intellect ; and as it is later in
its developement, so it comes forth witli proportionally-
greater efficiency. Accordingly, Degerando, in his trea-
tise entitled De la Generation des Connoissances, expressly
and very justly remarks, after having spoken of judgmen'
or Relative Suggestion as a distinct source of knowledge j
" The Reasoning faculty also serves to enrich us with
ideas ; for there are many relations so complicated or re-
mote, that one act of judgment is not sufficient to discov-
er them. A series of judgments or process of reasoning
is therefore necessary." — But we would not be understood
to limit the results of reasoning, considered as a distinct
source of knowledge, to a few simple conceptions, such as
the discovery, in a given case, of the mere relation of
agreement or disagreement. It sustains the higher office
of bringing to light the gi ^at principles and hidden truths
of nature ; it reveals to the inquisitive and delighted mind
a multitude of fruitful and comprehensive views, which
could not otherwise be obtained ; and invests men, and
nature, and events with a new character.
^ 175. Definition of reasoning, and of propositions.
Reasoning may be defined the mental process or oper-
ation whereby we deduce conclusions from two or more
propositions premised. — A train of reasoning may be re-
garded, therefore, as a whole ; and, as such, it is made up
of separate and subordinate parts. These elementary
parts are usually termed propositions ; and before we can
proceed with advantage in the further consideration of
reasoning, it is necessary to go into a brief explanation
of them.
• A PROPOSITION has been d^ned to be a verbal repre-
sentation of some perception, act, or affection of the mind.
— Accordingly, when we speak of a Proposition, we are
usually understood to mean some mental perception or
combination of perceptions, expressed and laid out before
192 REASONING.
US in words. Although such seems to be the ordinal y
meaning of the term, we may admit the possibihty of prop-
ositions existing wholly in the mind, without being ex-
pressed in words. Mr. Locke expressly speaks of mental
propositions, or those states of mind where two or more
ideas are combined together previous to their being im-
bodied and set forth in the forms of language.
The parts of the proposition are, (1.) The subject, or
that concerning which something is either asserted or de-
nied, commanded or inquired. (2.) The predicate, or
that which is asserted, denied, commanded, or inquired
concerning the subject. (3.) The copula, by which the
two other parts are connected. — In these two propositions,
Ceesar was brave,
Men are fallible,
Men and CcEsar are the subjects ; fallible and brave are
the predicates ; are and was are the copulas.
Propositions have been divided, (1.) Into simple, or
those whose subject and predicate are composed of single
words, as in this :
Benevolence is co^nm end able.
(2.) Into complex, or those where the subject and
predicate consist of a number of words, as in this :
Faithfulness in religion is followed by peace of mind.
(3.) Into modal, where the copula is qualified by some
word or words, representing the manner or possibility of
the agreement or discrepancy between the subject and
predicate, as in these :
Men of learning can exert an influence ;
Wars may sometimes be just.
Propositions, more or less involved, are necessary parts
in every process of reasoning. They may be compared
to the separate and disjointed blocks of marble which are
destined to enter into the formation of some edifice ; the
completed process of reasoning is the edifice, the propo-
isitions are the materials.
^ 176. Process of the mind in all cases of reasoning.
Leaving the consideration of its subordinate parts or
elements, we are further to consider the general nature
of reasoning; in other words, we ?ire to examine the
i
REASONING. 193
character of the complex mental process involved in that
cerm. The definition given of reasoning, it will be re-
membered, was, that it is the mental process by which
we deduce conclusions from two or more propositions
premised. Hence there will be in every such process a
succession of propositions, never less than two, and often
a much greater number. The propositions often follow
each other with much regularity ; and hence not unfre-
quently we consider the arrangement of them as entirely
•irbitrary. This is a mistaken supposition. It is true,
vvhen a ^ number of ideas or propositions are presented
nearly at the same time, the mind puts forth a volition,
or exercises choice, in selecting one idea or proposition in
preference to another. But the ideas or propositions from
which the choice is made, and without the presence of
which it could not be made, are not brought into exist-
ence by a direct volition, and, therefore, mere arbitrary
creations; but are suggested by the laws of association /
^ 177. Illustration of the preceding statement.
As an illustration of what has been said, we will sup-
pose an argument on the justice and expediency of capi-
tal punishments in ordinary cases. The disputant first
denies, in general terms, the right which social combina-
tions have assumed of capitally punishing offences of a
slight nature. But, before considering the cases he has
particularly in view, he remarks on the right of capital
punishment for murder ; he admits, we will suppose, that
the principle of self-defence gives such a right. He then
takes up the case of stealing, and contends that w^e have
no right to punish the thief with death, because no such
right is given by the laws of nature ; for, before the for-
mation of the civil compact, the institution of property, as
a matter of civil and judicial regulation, was not known.
He then considers the nature of. civil society, and con-
tends that, in the formation of the social compact, no
SRch extraordinary power as that of putting to death for
stealing, or other crimes of similar aggravation, could
have been implied in that compact, because it never was
possessed by those who formed it, &c.
Here is an argument, made up of a number of propo
R
i94 REASONING
sitions, and carried on, as may be supposed, to a very
considerable length. And in this argument, as in all
others, every proposition is, in the first instance, suggest-
ed by the laws of association ; it is not at all a matter of
arbitrary volition. The disputant first states the inquiry
in general terms; he then considers the particular case
of murder ; the crime of theft is next considered ; and
this is examined, first, in reference to natural law, and
afterward in reference to civil law. — And this consecu-
tion of propositions takes place in essentially the same
way as when the sight of a stranger in the crowd suggests
the image of an old friend, and the friend suggests the
village of his residence, and the village suggests an an-
cient ruin in its neighbourhood, and the ruin suggests
warriors and battles of other days. — It is true that other
propositions may have been suggested at the same time,
and the disputant may have had his choice between them,
but this was all the direct voluntary power which he pos-
sessed.
^ 178. Orounds of the selection of propositions.
A number of propositions are presented to the mind by
the principles of association ; the person who carries on
the process of reasoning makes his selection among them.
But it is reasonable to inquire, How it happens that there
is such a suitableness or agreement in the propositions, as
they are successively adopted into the train of reasoning ?
And this seems to be no other than to inquire into the cir-
cumstances under which the choice of them is made, or
the grounds of the selection.
Let it be considered, then, that in all arguments, wheth-
er moral or demonstrative, there is some general subject
on which the evidence is made to bear ; there is some
point in particular to be examined. In reference to these
general outlines we have a prevailing and permanent
desire. This desire is not only a great help in giving
quickness and strength to the laws of association, but
exercises also a very considerable indirect influence in
giving an appropriate character to the thoughts which
are suggested by those laws Hence the great body of
the propositions which are at such times brought up, will
REASONING. 195
be found to have a greater or less reference to the gen-
eral subject. These are all very rapidly compared by the
mind with those outlines in regard to which its feelings
of desire are exercised, or with what we usually term the
point to he 'proved. — Here the mind, in the exercise of
that susceptibility of feelings of relation which we have
already seen it to possess, immediately discovers the suit-
ableness or want of suitableness, the agreement or want
of agreement, of the propositions presented to it, to the
general subject. This perception of agreement or disa-
greement, which is one of those relative feelings of which
the mind is, from its very nature, held to be susceptible,
exists as an ultimate fact in our mental constitution. All
that can profitably be said in relation to it, is the mere
statement of the fact, and of the circumstances under
which it is found to exist. — Those propositions which are
judged by the mind, in the exercise of that capacity which
its Creator has given it, to possess a congruity or agree-
ment with the general subject or point to be proved, are
permitted by it to enter in, as continuous parts of the ar-
gument. And in this way a series of propositions rises
up, all having reference to one ultimate purpose, regular,
appropriate, and in their issue laying the foundation of
the different degrees of assent. — This explanation will
apply not only to the supposed argument in the last sec-
tion, which is an instance of moral reasoning, but will
hold good essentially of all other instances, of whatever
kind. The difference in the various kinds of reasoning
consists less in the mental process than in the nature of
the subjects compared together, and in the conditions at-
tending them.
^ 179.' Reasoning implies the existence of antecedent or assumed
propositions.
In attempting to give some explanation of the reason-
ing power, it is to be remarked further, that reasoning,
both in its inception and its pipsecution, has this charac-
teristic, that it necessarily proceeds, in a great degree,
upon assumptions. As every deductive process implies a
comparison of propositions, there must, of course, be some
propositions given, by the aid of which the comparison is
196 REASONING.
prosecuted. There must be someth-ing assumed as knowi/,
by means of which to find out what is unknown. Accord-
ingly, assumed propositions (either those which are known
to be true, or, for the purposes of argument, are regarded
as such) are always found at the commencement of the
series; and they are also introduced frequently in its
progress, particularly in Moral reasoning But the prop-
ositions which are assumed are not always expressed;
especially those which, from the circumstance of their
being representative of elementary convictions of the un-
derstanding, are denominated primary truths.
"In every process of reasoning," says Abercrombie,
" we proceed by founding one step upon another which
has gone before it ; and when we trace such a process
backward, we must arrive at certain truths which are rec-
ognised as fundamental, requiring no proof and admit-
ting of none."
^ 180. Further considerations on this subjeci.
But when we say that reasoning proceeds upon as-
sumptions, it does not necessarily follow that it pro-
ceeds upon propositions which are unknown or doubtful.
The propositions which are referred to, are assumed in
reference to the .reasoning power, and not in reference
to other sources of knowledge w^hich the understanding
possesses besides reasoning. Whatever things are known
by Original Suggestion, whatever are known by Con-
sciousness, or by the direct communication of the Senses,
or by undoubted Memory or Testimony, as they cannot
be made clearer by reasoning, but fully command our be-
lief of themselves, are at once adopted by reasoning into
its own processes, and employed as helps in eliciting the
remote and unperceived truths which it is in search of
But, as has been intimated, this adoption is not always a
formal and acknowledged one, but often silently and by
implication. No one would think of formally and repeat-
edly enunciating, as he advances in an argument, the truth
of his own existence or of his personal identity , and not
much more would he think of enunciating that every effect
has its cause, or that nature is uniform in her operations, or
that a combination of means conspiring to a particular end
REASONING. 197
indicates intelligence ; truths which are so essential and
familiar to the human intellect, that we daily base the
most important conclusions upon them, while, at the same
time, we scarcely think of their existence. //■
^181. Of differences in the power of reasoning.
The faculty of reasoning exists in different individuals
in very different degrees. There is the same diversity
here which is found to exist in respect to every other men-
tal susceptibility and mental process. In some persons it
is not even powerful enough to meet the ordinary exigen-
cies of life, and hardly rescues its possessor from the
imputation of idiocy ; in others, it elevates human nature,
and bestows extraordinary grasp and penetration. And
between the extremes of extraordinary expansion and
marked imbecility, there are multitudes of distinct grades,
almost every possible variety.
This difference depends on various causes. — ( 1.) It will
depend, in the first place, on the amount of knowledge
which the reasoner possesses. No man can permanently
sustain the reputation of great ability in argument with-
out having previously secured a large fund of knowledge as
its basis. And we may add, that no man can reason well
on any given subject, unless he has especially prepared
himself in reference to that subject. All reasoning im-
plies a comparison of ideas ; or, more properly, a compar-
ison of propositions, or of facts stated in propositions.
Of course, where there is no knowledge on any given
subject, where there is no accumulation of^acts, there can
be no possibility of reasoning ; and where the knowledge
is much limited, the plausibility and power of the argu-
ment will be proportionally diminished.
That many persons speak on subjects which are propo-
sed to them without having made- any preparation, can-
not be denied ; but there is a vast difference between
noisy, incoherent declamation and a well-wrought argu-
ment, made up of suitable p^positions, following each
other with a direct and satisfactory reference to the con-
clusion. In every case of reasoning, the mind passes suc-
cessively along the various topics involved in the argu-
ment 5 and, in so doing, is governed by the principle*^ of
R 2
198 REASONING.
assciciation, as we have already had occasion to notice
But what opportunity can there possibly be for the oper-
ation of these principles, when the mind is called to fasten
itself upon a subject, and to decide upon that subject,
without any knowledge of those circumstances w^hich
may be directly embraced in it, or of its relations and
tendencies ?
' (2.) The power of reasoning will depend, in the sec-
ond place, on the power of attention and memory. There
are some persons who seem to have no command of the
ATTENTION. Everything interests them slightly, and no-
thing in a high degree. They are animated by no strong
feeling ; and enter into no subject requiring long-continu-
ed and abstract investigation with a suitable intensity of
ardour. A defective remembrance of the numerous facts
and propositions which come under review is the natural
consequence of this. And this necessarily implies a per-
plexed and diminished power of ratiocination.
(3.) A third ground of difference is diversity in the
susceptibility of feeling relations. The remark has alrea-
dy been made, (§ 138,) that facts may be accumulated
having close and decisive relations to the points to be
proved, but that they can never be so bound together as
to result in any conclusion, without a perception or feeling
of those relations. But it is well known, whatever it may
be owing to, that the relations of objects are much more
readily and clearly perceived by some than by others.
As, therefore, every train of reasoning implies a succession
or series of relative perceptions, a defect in the power of
relative suggestion necessarily implies a defect in the
reasoning power. And, on the other hand, a great
quickness and clearness in the perception of relations is
necessarily attended (other things being equal) with an
augmented efficiency of reasoning.
<5 182. Of habits of reasoning.
But whatever may be the mental traits that render, in
particular cases, the reasoning power more or less effi-
cient, its efficacy will undoubtedly depend, in a great de-
gree, on Habit. — The effect of frequent practice, resulting
in what is termed a habit, is often witnessed in those who
REASONING. 199
follow any mechanic calling, where we find that what
was once done with difficulty comes in time to be done
with great ease and readiness. The muscles of such per-
sons seem to move with a kind of instinctive facility and
accuracy in the performance of those works to which they
have been for a long time addicted.
There is a similar effect of frequent practice in the in-
crease of quickness and facility in our mental operations ;
and certainly as much so in those which are implied in
reasoning as in any others. If, for instance, a person has
never been in the habit of going through geometrical
demonstrations, he finds his mind very slowly and with dif-
ficulty advancing from one step to another ; while, on the
other hand, a person who has so often practised this spe-
cies of argumentation as to have formed a habit, advan-
ces forward from one part of the train of reasoning to
another with great rapidity and delight And the result
is the same in any process of moral reasoning. In the
prosecution of any argument of a moral nature, there is
necessarily a mental perception of the congruity of its
several parts, or of the agreement of the succeeding
proposition with that which went before. The degree of
readiness in bringing together propositions, and in putting
forth such perceptions^ will greatly depend on the degree
of practice. '
^ 183. Of reasoning in connexion with language or expression.
Language is the great instrument of reasoning. There
may indeed be a deductive process which is purely men-
tal ; but, in point of fact, this is seldom the case. In the
use of language, it is worthy of notice, that there is often
a want of correspondence between the purely mental pro-
cess in reasoning -and the outward verbal expression of it.
When persons are called upon to state their arguments
suddenly and in public debate, they often commit errors
which are at variance with the prevalent opinion of their
Sfood sense and mental ability* This is particularly true
of meir who are chiefly engaged in the ordinary business
of life, or are in any situation where there is a constant
call for action. The conclusions at which such persons
've may be supposed to be generally correct, but they
200 REASONING.
frequently find themselves unable to state clearly and cor*
rectly to others the process of reasoning by which they
arrived at them. — Oliver Cromwell, the famous English
Protector, is said to have been a person to whom this
statement would well apply. The complicated incidents
of his life, and the perplexities of his situation, and his
great success, sufficiently evince that he possessed a clear
insight into events, and was in no respect deficient in un-
derstanding ; but v/hen he attempted to express his opin-
ions in the presence of others, and to explain himself on
questions of policy, he was confused and obscure. His
mind readily insinuated itself into the intricacies of a
subjc-ct ; and while he could assert with confidence that he
had arrived at a satisfactory conclusion, he could not so
readily describe either the direction he had taken, or the
involutions of the journey. — " All accounts," says Mr
Hume," agree in ascribing to Cromwell a tiresome, dark,
unintelligible elocution, even when he had no intention to
disguise his meaning ; yet no man's actions were ever, in
such a variety of difficult cases, more decisive and judi-
cious."
^ 184. Illustration of the foregoing section.
Such instances are not unfrequent. Mr. Stewart some-
where mentions the case of an English officer, a friend of
Lord Mansfield, w^ho had been appointed to the govern-
ment of Jamaica. The officer expresse'd some doubts of
his competency to preside in the court of chancery.
Mansfield assured him that he would not find the difficul-
ty so great as he imagined. — " Trust," said he, " to your
own good sense in forming your opinions, but beware of
stating the grounds of your judgments. The judgments
will probably be right ; the arguments will infallibly be
wrong."
The perplexity, which is so often experienced by men
engaged in active life, in giving a prompt and correct ver-
bal expression to the internal trains of thought, m proba-
bly owing in part to a want of practice of that kind, and
in part to certain mental habits, which they have been
led, from their situation, to form and strengthen. In a
thousand emergencies they have been obliged to act with
DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING, 201
quick ni ss, and, at the same time, with cautioi? ; in other
word.s, to examine subjects, and to do it with expedition
In thirf way they have acquired exceeding readiness in all
their mental acts. The consequence of this is, that the
numerous minute circumstances, involved more or less in
all subjects of difficult inquu-y, are passed in review with
such rapidity, and are made in so very small a degree the
objects of separate attention, that they vanish and are for-
gotten. Hence these persons, although the conclusion to
which they have come be satisfactory, arc unable to state
to others all the subordinate steps in the argument.
Everything has once been distinctly and fairly before
their own minds, although with that great rapidity which
is always implied mi a habit ; but their argument, as sta-
ted in words, owing !;o their inability to arrest and imbody
all the evanescent processes of thought, appears to others
defective and confused. .
//
CHAPTER X.
demonstrative reasoning.
() 185. Of the subjects of demonstrative reasoning.
In the remarks which have hitherto been made, tlie-
subject of reasoning has been taken up in the most gen-
eral point of view. The considerations that h^ve been
proposed are applicable, in the main, to reasoning in all
its forms. But it is necessary, in order to possess a more
full and satisfactory conception of this subject, to exam-
ine it under the two prominent heads of Moral and De-
monstraf.ve.
There are various particulars in which moral and de-
monstrative reasoning differ from each other ; the consid-
eiation of which will suggest njore fully their distinctive
nature. Among other things, demonstrative reasoning
differs from any other species of reasoning in the subjects
aboiit which it is employed. The subjects are abstract
iaeas, and the necessary relations among them. Those
^^ DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING.
ideas or thoughts are called abstract which are represent-
ative of such qualities and properties in objects as can
be distinf^tly examined by the mind separate from other
qualities and properties with which they are commonly
united. And there may be reckoned, as coming within
this class of subjects, the properties of numbers and of geo-
metrical figures ; also extension, duration, weight, veloci-
ty, forces, &c., so far as they are susceptible of being accu-
rately expressed by numbers or other mathematical signs.
But the subjects of moral reasoning, upon which we are
to remark hereafter more particularly, are matters of fact,
including their connexion with other facts, whether con-
stant or variable, and all attendant circumstances. — That
the exterior angle of a triangle is equal to both the inte-
rior and opposite angles, is a truth. which comes within
the province of demonstration. That Homer was the au-
thor of the Iliad, that Xerxes invaded Greece, &c., are
mquiries belonging to moral reasoning.
^ 186. Use of definitions and axioms in demonstrative reasoning.
In every process of reasoning, there must be, at the
commencement of it, something to be proved ; there must
also be some things, either known or taken for granted
as such,' with which the comparison of the propositions
begins. The preliminary truths in demonstrative reason-
ings are involved in such definitions as are found in all
mathematical treatises. It is impossible to give a dem-
onstration of the properties of a circle, parabola, ellipse,
or other mathematical figure, without first having given a
definition of them. Definitions, therefore, are the facts
assumed, the first principles in demonstrative reasoning,
from which, by means of the subsequent steps, the conclu-
sion is derived. — We find something entirely similar in
respect to subjects which admit of the application of a
different form of reasoning. Thus, in Natural Philosophy,
the general facts in relation to the gravity and elasticity
of the air may be considered as first principles. From
these principles in Physics are deduced, as consequences,
the suspension of the mercury in the barometer, and its
fall when carried up to an eminence.
We must not forget here the use of axioms in the dem-
DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 203
onstrations of mathematics. Axioms are certain self-ev
ident propositions, or propositions the truth of which is
discovered by intuition, such as the following : " Things
equal to the same, are equal to one another;" "From
equals take away equals, and equals remain." We gen-
erally find a number of them prefixed to treatises of ge-
ometry, and other treatises involving geometrical princi-
ples ; and it has been a mistaken supposition, which has
long prevailed, that they are at the foundation of geomet-
rical and of all other demonstrative reasoning. But
axioms, taken by themselves, lead to no conclusions.
With their eissistance alone, the truth, involved in proposi-
tions susceptible of demonstration, would have been be-
yond our reach.
But axioms are by no means without their use, although
their nature may have been misunderstood. They are
properly and originally intuitive perceptions of the truth ;
and whether they be expressed in words, as we gen-
erally find them, or not, is of but little consequence, ex-
cept as a matter of convenience to beginners, and in giv-
ing instruction. But those intuitive perceptions which
are always implied in them are essential helps ; and if
by their aid alone we should be unable to complete a
demonstration, we should be equally unable without them.
We begin with definitions ; we compare together suc-
cessively a number of propositions ; and these intuitive
perceptions of their agreement or disagreement, to which,
when expressed in words, we give the name of axioms,
attend us at every step.
6 187. The opposites of demonstrative reasonings absurd.
In demonstrations we consider only one side of a ques-
tion ; it is not necessary to do anything niore than this.
The first principles in the reasoning are given ; they are
not only supposed to be certain, but they are assumed as
such ; these are followed by a number of propositions in
Recession, all of which are compared together ; if the
conclusion be a demonstrative t>ne, then there has been a
clear perception of certainty at every step in the train.
Whatever may be urged against an argument thus con-
ducted is of vo consequence ; the opposite of it will al
204 DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING.
ways imply some fallacy. Thus, the proposition that the
three angles of a triangle are not equal to two right
angles, and other propositions, which are the opposite of
what has been demonstrated, will always be found to be
false, and also to involve an absurdity ; that is, are in-
consistent w^ith, and contradictory to, themselves.
But it is not so in Moral Reasoning. And here, there-
fore, we find a marked distinction between the two great
fprms of ratiocination. We may arrive at a conclusion
on a moral subject with a great degree of certainty ; not
a doubt may be left in the mind ; and yet the opposite
of that conclusion may be altogether within the limits of
possibility. We have, for instance, the most satisfactory
evidence that the sun rose to-day, but the opposite might
have been true, without any inconsistency or contradic-
tion, viz., That the sun did not rise. Again, we have no
doubt of the great law in physics, that heavy bodies de-
scend to the earth in a line directed towards its centre.
But we can conceive of the opposite of this without involv-
ing any contradiction or absurdity. In other v/ords, they
might have been subjected, if the Creator had so deter-
mined, to the influence of a law requiring them to move in
a different dh'ection. But, on a thorough examination of
a demonstrative process, we shall find ourselves unable to
admit even the 'possibility of the opposite.
ij 18S. Demonsti-ations do not admit of different degrees of belief.
When our thoughts are employed upon subjects which
come within the province of moral reasoning, we yield
different degrees of assent ; we form opinions more or less
probable. Sometimes our belief is of the lowest kind ;
nothing more than mere presumption. New evidence
gives it new strength ; and it may go on, from Ciie de-
gree of strength to another, till all doubt is excluded, and
all possibility of mistake shut out. — It is different in dem-
onstrations ; the assent which we yield is at all times of
the highest kind, and is never susceptible of being regard-
ed as more or less. This results, as must be obvious on
the slightest examination, from the nature of demonstra-
tive reasoning.
In demonstrative reasonings we always begin with
DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. * 205
certain first principles or truths, either known or taken for
granted ; and these hold the first place, or are the found-
ation of that series of propositions over which the mind
successively passes until it rests in the conclusion. In
mathematics, the first principles, of which we here speak^
are the definitions.
We begin, therefore, with what is acknowledged • by
all to be true or certain. At every step there is an intui-
tive perception of the agreement or disagreement of the
propositions which are compared together. Consequent-
ly, however far we may advance in the comparison of
them, there is no possibility of falling short of that degree
of assent with w^hich it is acknowledged that the series
commenced. — So that demonstrative certainty may be
judged to amount to this. Whenever we arrive at the
last step, or the conclusion of a series of propositions, the
mind, in effect, intuitively perceives the relation, whether
it be the agreement or disagreement, coincidence or w^ant
of coincidence, between the last step or the conclusion,
and the conditions involved in the propositions at the
coimnencement of the series ; and, therefore, demonstra-
tive certainty is virtually the same as the certainty of in*
tuition. Although it arises on a different occasion, and
is, therefore, entitled to a separate consideration, there is
no difference in the degree of belief.
^ 189. Of the use of diagrams in demonstrations.
In conducting a demonstrative process, it is frequently
the case that we make use of various kinds of figures or
diagrams. — The proper use of diagrams, of a square, cir-
cle, triangle, or other figure which we delineate before
us, is to assist the mind in keeping its ideas distinct, and
to help in comparing them together with readiness and
correctness. They are a sort of auxiliaries, brought in to
the help of our intellectual infirmities, but are not abso-
lutely necessary ; since demonstrative reasoning, where-
^ver it may be found, resembles any other kind of reason-
ing in this most important rdlpect, viz., in being a com-
parison of our ideas.
In proof that artificial diagrams are only auxiliaries,
and are not essentially necessary in demonstrations, it
20b MORAL REASONING.
may be remarked, that they are necessarily all of then,
imperfect. It is not within the capability of the wit and
power of man to frame a perfect circle, or a perfect tri-
angle, or any other figure which is perfect. We might
argue this from our general knowledge of the imperfec-
tion of the senses ; and we may almost regard it as a
matter determined by experiments of the senses them-
selves, aided by optical instruments. " There never was,"
says Cudworth, " a straight line, triangle, or circle, that we
saw in all our lives, that was mathematically exact ; but
even sense itself, at least by the help of microscopes,
might plainly discover much unevenness, ruggedness, flex-
uosity, angulosity, irregularity, and deformity in them."*
Our reasonings, therefore, and our conclusions, will not
apply to the figures before us, but merely to an imagined
perfect figure. The mind can not only originate a figure
internally and subjectively, but can ascribe to it the attri-
bute of perfection. And a verbal statement of the prop-
erties of this imagined perfect figure is what we under-
stand by a DEFINITION, the use of which, in this kind of
reasoning in particular, has already been mentioned.
CHAPTER XL
MORAL REASONING.
^ 190. Of the subjects and importance of moral reasoning.
Moral reasoning, which is the second great division or
Rind of reasoning, concerns opinions, actions, and events ;
embracing, in general, those subjects which do not come
within the province of demonstrative reasoning. The
subjects to w^hich it relates are often briefly expressed, by
saying that they are matters of fact ; nor would this defi-
nition, concise as it is, be likely to give an erroneous idea
of them.
Skill in this kind of reasoning is of great use in tho
formation of opinions concerning the duties and the gen-
* Treatise concerning Immutable Morality, bk. iv., ch. iii.
MORAL REASONING. 207
eral conduct of life. Some may be apt to think, that
those who have been most practised in demonstrative rea-
soning can find no difficulty in adapting their intellectual
habits to matters of mere probabilit}% This opinion is
not altogether well founded. ^ Although that species of
reasoning has a favourable result in giving persons a
command over the attention, and in some other respects,
whenever exclusively employed it has the effect, in some
degree, to disqualify them for a correct judgment on those
various subjects w^hich properly belong to moral reason-
ing. — The last, therefore, which has its distinctive name
from the primary signification of the Latin mores, viz.,
manners, customs, &c., requires a separate consideration.
<yi 191. Of the nature of moral certainty.
Moral reasoning causes in us different degrees of as
sent, and in this respect differs from demonstrative. In
demonstration there is not only an immediate perception
of the relation of the propositions compared together;
but, in consequence of their abstract and determinate na-
ture, there is also a knowledge or absolute certainty of
their agreement or disagreement. In moral reasoning
the case is somewhat different. — In both kinds we begin
with certain propositions, w^hich are either known or re-
garded as such. In both there is a series of propositions
successively compared. But in moral reasoning, in con-
sequence of the propositions not being abstract and fixed,
and, therefore, often uncertain, the agreement or disagree-
ment among them is, in general, not said to be known,
but presumed ; and this presumption may be more or less,
admitting a great variety of degrees. While, therefore,
one mode of reasoning is attended with knowledge, the
other can properly be said to produce, in most cases, only
judgment or opinion. — But the probabihty of such judg-
ment or opinion may sometimes arise so high as to ex-
clude all reasonable doubt. And hence we then speak
jis if we possessed certainty in respect to subjects which
admit merely of the application of moral reasoning. Al
though it is possible that there may be some difference
between the belief attendant on demonstration and that
produced by the highest probability, the effect on oui
208 MORAL REASONING.
feelings is, at any rate, essentially the same. A man
who should doubt the existence of the cities of Londoi?
and Pekin, although he has no other evidence of it than
that of testimony, would be considered hardly less singu-
lar and unreasonable than one who might take it into his
head to doubt of the propositions of Euclid. — It is this
very high degree of probability which w^e term moral
lertainty.
^ 192. Of reasoning from analogy.
Moral reasoning admits of some subordinate divisions ;
and of these, the fxrst to be mentioned is reasoning from
analogy. — The woid analogy is used with some vague-
ness, but, ir^ general, denotes a resemblance, either greater
or less.— Having observed a consistency and uniformity
in the operations of the physical w^orld, w^e are naturally
led to presume that things of the same nature will be af-
fected in the same w^ay, and will produce the same effects ;
and also that the same or similar effects are to be attrib-
uted to like causes. Analogical reasoning, therefore, is
that mental process by w^hich uiikno\vn truths or conclu-
sions are inferred from the resemblance of things.
The argument by which Sir Isaac Newton establishes
the truth of universal gravitation is of this sort. He proves
that the planets, in their revolutions, are deflected towards
the sun in a manner precisely similar to the deflection of
the earth towards the same luminary ; and also that there
is a similar deflection of the moon tow^ards the earth, and
of a body projected obliquely at the earth's surface to-
wards the earth's centre. Hence he infers by analogy,
that all these deflections originate from the same cause,
or are governed by one and the same law, viz., the power
of gravitatmi. There are a variety of suhjects, both spec-
ulative and practical, in respect to which we may reason
in this way, and sometimes with considerable satisfac-
tion. It is nevertheless true, that much care is necessary
in arguments drawn from this source, especially in sci
entific investigations. The proper use of analogical rea-
soning in scientific inquiries seems to be, merely to illus-
trate and confii'm truths which are susceptible of proof
from other sources of evidence, either by casting a direct
additional light or by answeriiig objections.
MORAL REASONING 209
9 193. Of reasoning by induction.
We now come to another method of moral reasonmg,
viz., by induction. Inductive reasoning is the inferring
of general truths from particular facts that have fallen,
under our observation. Our experience teaches us that
nature is governed by uniform laws ; and we have a firm
expectation, (whether it be an original principle of our
constitution, or whatever may be the origin of it,) that
events will happen in future, as we have seen them hap-
pen in times past. With this state of mind we are pre-
pared to deduce inferences by induction.
When a property has been found in a number of sub-
jects of the same kind, and nothing of a contradictory
nature appears, we have the strongest expectation of
finding the same property in all the individuals of the
same class ; in other words, we come to the conclusion
that the property is a general one. Accordingly, we ap-
ply a magnet to several pieces of iron ; we find, in every
instance, a strong attraction taking place ; and we con-
clude, although we have made the experiment wdth only
a small number of the masses of iron actually in exist-
ence, that it is a property of iron to be thus affected by
that substance, or that all iron is susceptible of magneti-
r,al attraction. This is a conclusion drawn by induction.
The belief vv^hich attends a well-conducted process of
inductive reasoning bears a decided character ; it is moral
probability of the highest kind, or what is sometimes term-
ed moral certainty ; and is at least found to be sufficient
for all practical purposes. We obtain all the general
truths relating to the properties and laws of material ob-
jects in this way.
And we thus not only acquire a knowledge of materia
objects, but apply the same inductive process also in the
investigation of laws which govern the operations of the
mind. It is by experience, or observing what takes place
in a number of individuals, that we are able to infer the
general law of ass-ociation, via*, when two or more ideas
have existed in the mind in immediate succession, they
are afterward found to be mutually suggested by each
other. It is the same in ascertaining other general laws
of the mind
S2
210 MORAl. REASONING.
<5 194. Of combined or accumulated arguments.
When a proposition in geometry is given to be demon-
strated, it sometimes happens that' two or more sohitions
may be offered leading to the same end. The theorem
or the problem is one and the same, as also the conclu-
sion ; but there may be more than one train of reasoning,
more tnan one series of intermediate steps connecting the
proposition which is to be investigated with the result.
But as the conclusion in each of these different cases is
certain, it does not strengthen it, although it may gratify
curiosity to resort to a different and additional proctss.
It is not thus in moral reasoning. The great difference
between the two kinds of reasoning, as before observed,
is not so much in the mental process as in the subjects
about which they are employed. Now, as the subjects in
moral reasoning are not of a purely abstract nature, and
are, therefore, often attended with uncertainty, our belief,
when we arrive at the conclusion, is not ahvays of the
highest kind. More frequently it is some inferior degree
of probability. Hence, in any moral inquiry, the more
numerous the series of arguments which terminates, in a
particular conclusion, the stronger will be our belief in
the truth of that conclusion.
Thus we may suppose a question to arise. Whether the
Romans occupied the island of Great Britain at some pe-
riod previous to the Saxon conquest ? In reference to
this inquiry a number of independent arguments may be
brought forward. (1.) The testimony of the Roman his-
torians. (2.) The remains of buildings, roads, and en-
campments, which indicate a Roman origin. (3.) The
coins, urns, &c., which have been discovered. Although
these arguments are independent of each other, they all
bear upon tcr.e same conclusion ; and, being combined to-
gether, the very essentially increase the strength of oui
belief.
PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS IN REASONING. *xl
CHAPTER XIL
PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS IN REASONING.
<J 195. Rules relating to the practice of reasoning.
Various directions have been given by writers on Lo-
gic, (which, it may be remarked here, is only another
name for whatever concerns the nature, kinds, and appH-
cations of Reasoning,) the object of which is to secure the
more prompt, accurate, and efficient use of the reasoning
power. It is but natural to suppose, that some of these
dialectical rules are of greater, and others of less value.
Such as appeared to be of the least questionable impor-
tance, are brought together and explained in this chapter ;
nor will this occasion any surprise, when it is recollected
that it has been the object of this work throughout, not
only to ascertain w^hat the mental operations are, but, by
practical suggestions from time to time, to promote what
is of a good, and prevent what is of a hurtful tendency in
such operations.
The directions now referred to have, of course, a more
intimate connexion with Moral than with Demonstrative
reasoning; but this is a circumstance w^hich enhances
rather than diminishes their worth. The occasions which
admit and require the application of moral reasoning,
being inseparable from the most common occurrences and
exigences of life, are much more numerous than tnose
of demonstrative reasoning.
^ 196. Of being influenced in reasoning by a love of the truth.
(I.) The first direction in relation to reasoning which
will be given, concerns the feelings with which it is pro})-
er to be animated. It is this. In all questions which
E^mit of discussion, and on wkich we find ourselves at
variance with the opinions of others, we are to make truth
our object. — The opposite of a desire of the truth is a wish
to decide the subject of dispute in one way rather than
another, independently of a just consideration of the er
212 PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS IN REASONING.
dence. The foundation of such a preference of one resull
to another are, in general, the prejudices of interest and
passion ; and these are the great enemies of truth. When-
ever we are under their influence, we form a different es-
timation of testimony, and of other sources of evidence,,
from what we should do under other circumstances ; and
at such times they can hardly fail to lead us to false re-
sults. — This rule is important on all occasions of reason-
ing w^hatever, but particularly in public debate ; because
at such times the presence of others and the love of vic-
tory combine with other unpropitious influences to in-
duce men to forget or to disregard the claims which truth
is always entitled to enforce.
{} 197. Care to be used in correctly stating the subject of discussion.
(IT.) Another rule in the prosecution of an argument is,
that the question under debate is to be fairly and correctly
stated. The matter in controversy may be stated in such
a way as to include, in the very enunciation of it, some-
thing taken for granted, which must necessarily lead to a
decision in favour of one of the opponents. But this
amounts to begging the question, a species of fallacy or
sophism upon which we shall again have occasion to re-
mark. — Sometimes the subject of discussion is stated so
carelessly, that the true point at issue is wholly left out.
It may be proper, therefore, in many cases, to adopt the
practice of special pleaders, and first to ascertain all the
points in which the opponents agree, and those in which
they differ. And then they can hardl; ^"ail of directing
their arguments to what is truly the subject of contention.
In order that there may not be a possibility of misun-
derstanding here, dialecticians should aim to have clear
ideas of everything stated in the question which has an
intimate connexion with the point at issue. Subordinate
parts of the question, and even particular words, are to be
examined. If, for instance, the statement affirm or deny
anything in regard to the qualities or properties of mate-
rial bodies, it is incumbent upon us to possess as clear
ideas as possible, both of the object in general, and of
those properties or qualities in particular. Similar re
marks will apply to other subjects of inquiry of whatev-
er kind.
PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS IN REASONING 2l3
198. Consider ihv kind of evidence Applicable to the subject.
(III.) As one subject clearly admits of the application
of one species of evidence, while another as clearly re-
quires evidence of a different kind, w^e are thence enabled
to lay down this rule, viz., We are to consider w^hat kind
of evidence is appropriate to the question under discus-
sion.
When the inquiry is one of a purely abstract nature,
and all the propositions involved in the reasoning are of
the same l^ind, then w^e have the evidence of Intuition or
intuitive perception ; and the conclusion,' for reasons al-
ready mentioned, is certain. — In the examination of the
properties of material bodies, we depend originally on
the evidence of the Senses ; which gives a character and
strength to our belief, according to the circumstances un-
der which the objects are presented to them. — In judging
of those facts in events and' in the conduct of men which
have not come under our own observation, we rely on Tes-
timony. This source of belief causes probability in a
greater -or less degree, according as the testimony is from
one or more, given by a person who understands the sub-
ject to which it relates, or not, &c. — And again, some
subjects admit of the evidence of Induction, and in re-
spect to others we have no other aids than the less au-
thoritative reasonings from Analogy. In other cases, the
evidence is w^holly made up of various incidental circum-
stances, w^hich are found to have relation to the subject in
hand, and which affect the belief in different degrees and
for various causes.
And hence, as the sources of belief, as w^ell as the be-
lief itself, have an intimate (connexion with the subject be-
fore us, they ought to be taken into consideration. The
evidence should. be appropriate to the question. But if
Ifie question admit of more than one kind of evidence,
fcheu all are entitled to their due- weight.
• ^ 199. Reject the aid of falsogarguments or sophisms.
(IV.) There is a species of false reasoning which wie
call a SOPHISM. A sophism is an argument w^hich con-
lairi* some secret fallacy under the general appearance of
"worr^^Tness. The aid of such arguments, which are cal-
214 PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS IN REASONING.
Ciliated to deceive, and are, in general, inconsistent with
a love of the truth, should be rejected.
(1.) Ignoratio elenchi, or misapprehension of the
question, is one instance of sophism. It exists when,
from some misunderstanding of the terms and phrases that
are employed, the arguments advanced do not truly apply
to the point in debate. It was a doctrine, for instance,
of some of the early philosophic teachers of Greece, that
there is but one principle of things. Aristotle, under-
standing by the word principle what we commonly ex-
press by the wDrd element, attempted to sho\V the con-
trary, viz., that the elements are not one, but many ; thus
incurring the imputation of ignoratio elenchi ; for those
who held the doctrine which was thus subjected to his
animadversion, had reference, not to the forms, but the
cause of things ; not to any doctrine of elementary mate-
rial particles, but to the intellectual origin, the creative
mind, the Supreme Being, whom, as the principle, (that
is, as the beginning and the support of things,) they main-
tained to be one.*
(2.) Petitio principii, or begging of the question, is
another instance of sophism. This sophism is found
whenever the disputant offers, in proof of a proposition,
the proposition itself in other words. The following has
been given as an instance of this fallacy in reasoning : —
A person attempts to prove that God is eternal, by main-
taining that his existence is without beginning and with-
out end. Here the proof which is otTered, and the prop-
osition itself which is to be proved, are essentially the
same. — When we are told that opium causes sleep, be-
cause it has a soporific quality, or that grass grows by
means of its vegetative power, the same thing is repeated
in other terms. — This fallacy is very frequently practised ;
and a little care in detecting it would s}3oil many a fin«'
saying, as well as defacp many an elaborate argument.
What is called arguing in a circle is a species of soph-
ism very nearly related to the above. It consists in ma-
king two propositions reciprocally prove each other.
(3.) NoN CAUSA pro causa, or the assignation of a false
* La Logique ou L'art de Peuser, (Port Royale,) part iii., chap. xix.
PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS IN REASONING. 215
cause. — People are unwilling to be thought ignorant;
rather than be thought so, they will impose on the credu-
lity of their fellow-men, and. sometimes on themselves,
by assigning false causes of events. Nothing is more
common than this sophism among illiterate people ; pride
is not diminished by deficiency of learning, and such
people, therefore, must gratify it by assigning such causes
of events as they find nearest at hand. Hence, when the
appearance of a comet is followed by a famine or a war,
they are disposed to consider it as the cause of those ca-
lamities. If a person have committed some flagrant
crime, and shortly after suffer some heavy distress, it is
no uncommon thing to hear the former assigned as the
direct and the sole cause of the latter. This was the fal-
lacy which historians have ascribed to the Indians of
Paraguay, who supposed the baptismal ceremony to be
the cause of death, because the Jesuit missionaries, when-
ever opportunity offered, administered it to dying infants,
and to adults in the last stage of disease.
(4.) Another species of sophistry is called fallacia
ACCiDENTis. — We fall into this kind of false reasoning
whenever we give an opinion concerning the general
nature of a thing from some accidental circumstance.
Thus, the Christian religion has been made the pretext for
persecutions, and has, in consequence, been the source of
much suffering ; but it is a sophism to conclude that it is,
on the whole, not a great good to the human race, be-
cause it has been attended with this perversion. Again,
if a medicine have operated in a particular case unfa-
vourably, or, in another case, have operated very favour*
ably, the universal rejection or reception of it, in conse-
quence of the favourable or unfavourable result in a par-
ticular instance, would be a hasty and fallacious induc-
tion of essentially the same sort. That is, the general
nature of the thing is estimated from a circumstance
which may be wholly accidental.
• ... •
^ 200. Fallacia equivocationis, or the use ot equivocal terms and phrases.
(V.) It is a further direction of much practical impor-
tance, that the reasoner should be careful, in the use of
language, to express everything with plainness and pre-
^16 PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS IN REASONING.
fusion ; and, especially, never attempt to prejudice the
cause of truth, and snatch a surreptitious victory by the
use of an equivocal phraseology. No man of an enlar-
ged and cultivated mind can be ignorant that multitudes
of words in every language admit of diversities of sig-
nification. There are found also in all languages many
words, which sometimes agree with each other, and
sometimes differ in signification, according to the connex-
ion in wdiich they appear, and their particular application.
There is, therefore, undoubtedly an opportunity, if any
should be disposed to embrace it, of employing equivocal
terms, equivocal phrases, and perplexed and mysterious
combinations of speech, and thus hiding themselves from
the penetrating light of truth, under cover of a mist of
their own raising. ,
No man, whose sole object is truth and justice, will re-
sort to such a discreditable subterfuge. If, in reasoning,
he finds himself inadvertently employing words of an
equivocal signification, it will be a first care with him to
guard against the misapprehensions likely to result from
that source. He will explain so precisely the sense in
which he uses the doubtful terms, as to leave no proba-
bility of cavilling and mistake.
(} 201. Of the sophism of estimating actions and character from the cir-
curnstafice of success merely-
(VI.) The foregoing are some of the fallacies in rea~
soning which have found a place in writers of Logic.
To these might be added the fallacy or sophism to which
(len are obviously so prone, of judging favourably of
ho characters and the deeds of others from the mere
nrcumstance of success. Those actions v/hich have a
ecidedly successful termination are almost always ap-
Jlauded, anu are looked upon as the result of great intel-
lectual forecast ; while, not less frequently, actions that
havD ?a unsuccesbiiu issue are not only stigmatized as
evil in themselves, hut as indicating in their projector a
flighty and ill-balancea mind. — The fallacy, however,
does not consist in taking tne issuci> or results into consid-
eration, which are undoubtedly entitled to their due place
in estimating the actions and characters of men, but in
too much limiting; our view of things, and forming a fa-
PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS IN REASONING, 217
voui'able or unfavourable judgment from the mere cir-
cumstance of good or ill success alone.
W hile there is no sophism more calcuiated to lead as-
tray and perplex, there is none more common than thi 5 ;
so much so, that it has almost passed into a proverb, that
a hero must not only be brave, but fortunate. Hence it
is that Alexander is called Great because he gained victo-
lies and overran kingdoms ; while Chailes XII. of Swe-
den, who the most nearly resembles him in the character-
istics of bravery, perseverance, and chimerical ambition,
but had his projects cut short at the fatal battle of Pulto-
wa, is called a madman.
" Machiavel has justly animadverted," says Dr. John-
son, " on the different notice taken by all succeeding
times of the two great projectors Catiline and Caesar.
Both formed the same project, and intended to raise
themselves to power by subverting the commonwealth.
They pursued their design, perhaps, with equal abilities
and equal virtue ; but Catiline perished in the field, and
Caesar returned from Pharsalia with unlimited authority ;
and from that time, every monarch of the earth has
thought himself honoured by a comparison with Caesar ;
and Catiline has never been mentioned but that his name
might be applied to traitors and incendiaries,"
<J 202. Of adherence to our opinions.
Whenever the rules laid down have been followed, and
conclusions have been formed with a careful and candid
regard to the evidence presented, those opinions are to be
asserted and maintained with a due degree of confidence.
It would, evince an unjustifiable weakness to be driven
from our honest convictions by the effrontery, or even by
the upright though misguided zeal, of an opponent. Not
that a person is to set himself up for infallible, and to sup-
pose that new accessions of evidence are impossible, or
that it is an impossibility for him to have new views of the
evidence already examined, ^wt a suitable degree of
stability is necessary in order to be respected and useful ;
and, in the case supposed, such stability can be exhibited
without incurring the charge, which is sometimes thrown
put, pf doggedness and intolerance.
218 PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS Hs REASONING.
It is further to be observed, that we are not always to
relinquish judgments which have been formed in the way
pointed out, when objections are afterward raised which
we cannot immediately answer. The person thus attack-
ed can, with good reason, argue in this way : I have once
examined the subject carefully and candidly ; the evi-
dence, both in its particulars and in its multitude of bear-
ings, has had its weight ; many minute and evanescent
circumstances were taken into view by the mind, which
have now vanished from my recollection ; I therefore do
not feel at liberty to alter an opinion thus formed, in
consequence of an objection now brought up, which I am
unable to answer, but choose to adhere to my present
judgment, until the whole subject, including this objec-
tion, can be re-examined. — This reasoning would in most
cases be correct, and w^ould be entirely consistent with
that love of truth and openness to comdction which ought
ever to be maintained.
^ 203. Effects on the mind of debating for victory instead of truth.
By way of supporting the remarks under the first rule,
we here introduce the subject of contending for victory
merely. He who contends with this object, takes eveiy
advantage of his opponent which can subserve his own
purpose. For instance, he will demand a species of proof
or a degree of proof which the subject in dispute does not
admit; he gives, if possible, a false sense to the words
and statements employed by the other side ; he questions
facts which he himself fully believes and everybody else,
in the expectation that the opposite party is not furnished
with direct and positive evidence of them. In a word,
wherever an opening presents, he takes the utmost advan*
tage of his opponent, however much against his own in-
ternal convictions of right and justice.
Such a course, to say nothing of its moral turpitude,
effectually unsettles that part of our mental economy
which concerns the grounds and laws of belief The
practice of inventing cunningly devised objections against
arguments known to be sound, necessarily impairs the in-
fluence which such arguments ought to exert over us.
Hence the remark has been made with justice, that per-
IMAGINATION. 219
sons who addict themselves to this practice frequently
end in becoming skeptics. They have so often perplex-
ed, and apparently overthrown what they felt to be true,
that they at last question the existence of any fixed ground
of belief in the human constitution, and begin to doubt
of everything.
This effect, even when there is an undoubted regard
for the truth, will be found to foHow from habits of ar-
dent disputation, unless there be a frequent recurrence to
the original principles of the mind which relate to the
nature and laws of belief. The learned Chillingworth is
an instance. The consequences to which the training up
of his vast powers to the sole art of disputation finally
led, are stated by Clarendon. — " Mr. Chillingworth had
spent all his younger time in disputations, and had arrived
at so great a mastery that he was inferior to no man in
those skirmishes ; but he had, with his notable perfection
in this exercise, contracted such an irresolution and habit
of doubting, that, by degrees, he became confident of
nothing. Neither the books of his adversaries nor any of
their persons, though he was acquainted with the best of
both, had ever made great impression on him. All his
doubts grew out of himself, when he assisted his scruples
with all the strength of his own rccison, and was then too
hard for himself."
CHAPTER xin:
IMAGINATION.
^ 204. Imagination an intellectual rather than a sensitive process.
Leaving the subject of reasoning, we next proceed to
the consideration of the Imagination ; which, as well as
ffie reasoning power, obviously comes under tht general
head of the Intellect rather than of the Sensibihties. It
is true, we are apt to associate the exercises of the heart
with those of the imagination, and undoubtedly we have
some reason for doing so ; but in doing this we are liable
220 IMAGINATION.
not merely to associate, but to identify and confound them.
But they are, in fact, essentially di/Terent. An exercise of
the Imagination, in itself considered, is purely an intel-
lectual process. The process may, indeed, be stimulated
and accelerated by a movement of the sensibilities ; there
may be various extraneous influences operating either to
increase or to diminish its vivacity and energy ; but the
process itself, considered separately from contingent cir-
cumstances, is wholly intellectual. So that he who pos-
sesses a creative and well-sustained imagination, may be
said, with no small degree of truth, to possess a powerful
intellect, whatever torpidity may characterize the region
of the affections.
^ 205. The imagination closely related to the reasoning power.
The imagination is not only entitled to be ranked un-
der the general head of the Intellect, in distinction from
the Sensibilities ; but it is to be remarked further, which
may perhaps have escaped the notice of some, that it pos-
sesses, especially in the process or mode of its action, a
close affinity with the reasoning power. It is a remark
ascribed to D'Alembert, whose great skill in the mathe-
matics w^ould seem* to justify his giving an opinion on
such a subject, that the imagination is brought into exer-
cise in geometrical processes ; which is probably true,
so far as some of the mental acts involved in imagination,
such as association and the perception of relations, are
concerned. And, in illustration of his views, he inti-
mates, in the same connexion, that Archimedes the geom-
etrician, of all the great men of antiquity, is best entitled
to be placed by the side of Homer.* Certain it is, that,
in some important respects, there is an intimate relation-
ship between the powers in question, the deductive and
imaginative. They both imply the antecedent exercise
of the power of abstraction ; they are both occupied in
framing new combinations of thought from the elements
already in possession ; they both put in requisition, and in
precisely the same way, the powers of association and rel-
ative suggestion. But, at the same time, they are separ-
ated from each other and characterized by the two cir-
cumstances, that their objects are different, and that they
' Stevvart'.s Historical Dissertation. — Prefatory Remarks
IMAGINATION. 221
operate, in part, on different materials. "Keasoning, as it
aims to give us a knowledge of the truth, deals exclusive-
ly with facts more or less probable. Imagination, as it
aims chiefly to give pleasure, is at liberty to transcend
the limits of the world of reality, and, consequently, often
deals with the mere conceptions of the mind, whether
they correspond to reality or not. Accordingly, the one
ascertains what is true, the other what is possible ; the
office of the 8ne is to inquire, of the other to create ; rea-
soning is exercised within the limits of what is known and
actual, while the appropriate empire of the imagination is
the region of the conjectural and conceivable.
^ 206. Definition of the power of imagination.
Without delaying longer upon the subject, which, how-
ever, is not without its importance, of the place which im-
agination ought to occupy in a philosophical classification
of the mental powers, we next proceed to consider more
particularly what imagination is, and in what manner it
operates. — Imagination is a complex exercise of the mind,
by means of which various conceptions are combined to-
gether, so as to form new wholes. The conceptions have
properly enough been regarded as the materials from
which the new creations are made ; but it is not until af-
ter the existence of those mental acts which are implied
in every process of the imagination, that they are fixed
upon, detained, and brought out from their state of single-
ness into happy and beautiful combinations.
Our conceptions have been compared to shapeless
stones, as they exist in the quarry, " which require little
more than mechanic labour to convert them into common
dwellings, but that rise into palaces and temples only at
the command of architectural genius." That rude and
little more than mechanic efl?brt, which converts the shape-
less stones of the quarry into common dwelling-s, may
justly be considered, when divested of its metaphorical
fl!spect, a correct representatioik of this mental property as
it exists among the great mass of mankind ; while the
architectural genius which creates palaces and temples is
the well-furnished and sublime imagination of poets,
pain*^ers, and oratofs.
T2
222 IMAGINATION.
We speak of imagination as a complex mental opera-
tion, because it implies, in particular, the exercise of the
power of association in furnishing those conceptions which
are combined together ; also the exercise of the power of
relative suggestion, by means of which the combination is
effected.
(J 207. Process of the mind in the creations of the imagination.
It may assist us in more fully understanding the nature
of imagination, if we endeavour to examine the intellect-
ual operations of one who makes a formal effort at wri-
ting, whether the production he has in view be poetical or
of some other kind. — A person cannot ordinarily be sup-
posed to sit down to write on any occasion whatever,
whether it involve a higher or lesser degree of the exer-
cise of the imagination, without having some general idea
of the subject to be written upon already in the mind.
The general idea, or the subject in its outlines, must be
supposed to be already present. He accordingly com-
mences the task before him with the expectation and the
desire of developing the subject more or less fully, of giv-
ing to it not only a greater continuity and a better ar-
rangement, but an increased interest in every respect.
As he feels interested in the topic which he proposes to
write upon, he can, of course, by a mere act of the will,
although he might not have been able in the first instance
to have originated it by such an act, detain it before him
for a length of time.
Various conceptions continue, in the mean while, to
arise in the mind, on the common principles of asso-
ciation ; but, as the general outline of the subject re-
mains fixed, they all have a greater or less relation to it.
And partaking in some measure of the permanency of
the outline to which they have relation, the writer has
an opportunity to approve some and to reject others, ac-
cording as they impress him as being suitable or unsuita-
ble to the nature of the subject. Those which affect him
with emotions of pleasure, on account of their perceived
fitness for the subject, are retained and committed to wri-
ting ; while others, whirh do not thus affect and interest
him, soon fade away altogether. — Whoever carefully no-
IMAGINATION. 223
bees the operations of his own mind, when he makes an
effort at composition, will probably be well satisfied that
this account of the intellectual process is very near the
truth.
^ 208. Further remarks on the same subject.
The process, tht refore, stated in the most simple and
concise terms, is as follows. We first think of some sub-
ject. With the on d^inal thought or design of the subject,
there is a coexistent desire to investigate it, to adorn it,
to present it to the examination of others. The effect of
this desire, followed and aided as it naturally is at such
times by <\n act of the will, is to keep the general subject
in mind; and, as the natui'al consequence of the exeicise
of association, various conceptions arise, in some way or
other related to the general subject Of some of these
conceptions we approve in consequence of their perceived
fitness to the end in view, while we reject others on ac-
count of the absence of this requisite quality of agreeable-
ness or fitness.
For the sake of convenience and brevity we give the
name of imagination to this complex state or series of states
of the mind. It is important to possess a single terra ex-
pressive of the complex intellectual process ; otherwise,
as we so frequently have occasion to refer to it in com-
mon conversation, we should be subjected, if not proper-
ly to a circumlocution, at least to an unnecessary multipli-
cation of words. But while we find it so much for our
convenience to make use of this term, we should be care-
ful and not impose upon ourselves, by ever remembering
that it is the name, nevertheless, not of an original and
independent faculty, which of itself accomplishes a^l that
has been mentioned, but of a complex or combined ac-
tion of a number of faculties.
^ 209. Illustration from the writings of Dr. Reid.
• Dr. Reid (Essay iv., ch. iv.)^ives the following gi'aph-
\cal statement of the selection which is made by the wri-
ter from the variety of his constantly arising and depart-
ing conceptions. — " We seem to treat the thoughts, that
present themselves to the fancy in crowds, as a great man
224 IMAGINATION.
treats those [courtiers] that attend his levee. They are
all ambitious of his attention. He goes round the circle,
bestowing a bow upon one, a smile upon another, asks a
short questicm of a third, while a Iburth is honoured with
a particular conference ; and the greater part have no
particular mark of attention, but go as they came. It is
true, he can give no mark of his attention to those who
were not there ; but he has a sufficient number for making
II choice and distinction."
^210. Grounds of the preference of one conception to another.
A question after all arises, On what principle is the
mind enabled to ascertain that congruity or incongruity,
fitness or unfitness, agreeably to which it makes the selec-
tion from its various conceptions? The fact is admitted,
that the intellectual principle is successively in a series of
different states, or, in other words, that there are successive
conceptions or images, but the inquiry still remains, Why
is one image in the group thought or known to be more
worthy than any other image, or why are any two ima-
ges combined together in preference to any tw^o others ?
The answer is, it is owing to no secondary law, but to
an instantaneous and original suggestion of fitness or unfit-
ness. Those conceptions which, by means of this origi-
nal power of perceiving the relations of things, are found
to be suitable to the general outhnes of the subject, are
detained. Those images which are^ perceived to possess
a peculiar congruity and fitness for each other, are united
together, forming new and more beautiful compounds.
While others, although no directly voluntary power ap-
pears to be exercised over either class, are neglected and
soon become extinct. But no account of this vivid feel-
ing of approval or disapproval, of this very rapid percep-
tion of the mutual congruity of the images for each other
or for the general conception of the subject, can be given,
other than this, that with such a power the original au-
thor of our intellectual susceptibilities has been pleased to
foirn us. This is our nature ; here we find one of the
elements of our intellectual efficiency ; without it we
might still be intellectual beings, but it would be with
the loss both of the reasoning power and of the imagi-
nation*
IMAGINATION. 225
^ 211. Illustration of the subject from Milton.
What has been said can perhaps be made plainer, by
considering in what way Milton must have proceeded in
forming his happy description of the- Garden of Eden.
He had formed, in the first place, some general outlines
of the subject ; and as it was one which greatly interest-
ed his feelings, the interest which was felt tended to keep
the outlines steadily before him. If the feeling of inter-
est was not sufficient to keep the general subject before
the mind, he could hardly fail to detain it there by add-
ing the influence of a direct and decisive act of the will
Then the principles of association, w^hich are ever at work,
brought up a great variety of conceptions, having a rela-
tion of some kind to those general features ; such as con-
ceptions of rocks, and woods, and rivers, and green lea\es,
and golden fruit.
The next step was the exercise of that power which we
have of perceiving relations, which we sometimes denom-
inate the Judgment, but more appropriately the suscepti-
bility or power of Relative Suggestion. By means ol
this he was at once able to determine, w^hether the con-
ceptions which were suggested were suitable to the gen-
eral design of the description and to each other, and
W'hether they would have, when combined together to
form one picture, a pleasing effect. Accordingly, those
which were judged most suitable were combined together
as parts of the imaginary creation, and were detained and
fixed by means of that feeling of interest and those acts
of the wll which were at first exercised towards the more
prominent outlines merely ; while others speedily disap-
peared from the mind. And thus arose an imaginaiy
landscape, glowing with a greater variety and richness
of beauty, more interesting and perfect, in every respect,
than we can ever expect to find realized in nature.
^ 212. The creations of imagination not entirely voluntary.
• From the explanation which Jias been given of the op-
erations of the power under consideration, it will be seen
that, in its action, it is subject to limitations and restrictions.
The opinion, that even persons of the most ready and
fruitful imagination can form new imaginary creations
226 IMAGINATION.
whenever they choose, by a mere volition, however wide
ly it may have prevailed, does not appear to be well
founded. In accordance with what may be regarded as
the common opinion, we will suppose, as an illustration
of what we mean, that a person wills to imagine a sea of
melted brass, or an immense body of liquid matter which
has that appearance. The very expressions, it will be
noticed, are nugatory and without meaning, since the sea
of brass which the person wills to conceive of or imagine,
is, by the very terms of the proposition, already present
to his thoughts. Whatever a person wills, or, rather, pro-
fesses to will to imagine, he has, in fact, already imagin-
ed ; and, consequently, there can be no such thing as
im'aginations which are exclusively the result of a direct
act of the will. So that the powers of invention, although
the influence of the indirect and subordinate actio.n of the
will may be considerable, must be aroused and quickened
to their highest eiforts in some other w^ay.
And this view admits of some practical applications.
Men of the greatest minds (great, we mean, in the w^alks
of literature) are kept in check by the principles which
are involved in the exercise of imagination. Genius,
whatever capabilities we may attribute to it, has its laws.
And it is true, in regard to every standard work of the
imagination, that it is the result, not of an arbitrary and
unexplainable exercise of that power, but of a multitude
of circ instances, prompting and regulating its action;
such as the situation in life, early education, domestic
habits, associates, reading, scenery, religion, and the in-
fluence of local superstitions and traditionary incidents.
These are like the rain and sunshine to the earth, without
which it necessarily remains in its original barrenness,
giving no signs of vivification and beauty. In the matter
of creative power, Bunyan will bear a comparison, un-
doubtedly, with Walter Scott ; but Scott, in the situation
ui which he was placed, and with the habits of thought
and feeling which he cherished, could not have written
the Pilgrim's Progress ; nor could Bunyan, on the other
hand, have written the Heart of Mid Lothian ; not be-
cause either of them was destitute of the requisite degree
of imagination, but because the creations of the imagina-
IMAGINATION. 227
tion always have a relation to circumstances, and are not
the result of a purely arbitrary act of the will. // ^.^p
^213. Illustration of the statements of the preceding section.
It would be an easy matter, and not without interest,
to illustrate this fact in the operations of the mind by a
reference to the private history of those individuals from
whom the great works of literature have originated. But,
as this does not come within our plan, we will refer merely
to a single instance. — Moore relates, in his life of Lord
Byron, that on a certain occasion he found him occupied
with the history of Agathon, a romance by Wieland.
And, from some remarks made at the time, he seems to
be of opinion that Byron was reading the work in ques-
tion as a means of furnishing suggestions to, and of quick-
ening, his own imaginative powers. He then adds, " I
am inclined to think it was his practice, when engaged
in the composition of any w^ork, to excite his vein by the
perusal of others on the same subject or plan, from which
the slightest hint caught by his imagination, as he read,
was sufficient to kindle there such a train of thought as,
but fo *that spark, had never been awakened.'*
This is said of a distinguished poet. Painting is an
art kindred with poetry ; and both are based on the im-
agination. Accordingly, the remarks which have been
made apply also to painting, and, indeed, to every other
art which depends essentially on the imaginative power.
" Invention," says Sir Joshua Reynolds, " is one of the
great marks of genius ; but, if we consult experience, we
shall find that it is by being conversant with the inven-
tions of others that we learn to invent, as by reading the
thoughts of others we learn to think. It is in vain for
painters or poets to endeavour to invent without materials
on which the mind may work, and from which invention.^
must originate. Nothing can come of nothing. Homer
is supposed to have been possessed of all the learning of
Ws time ; and we are certain ihat Michael Angelo and
Raffaelle w^ere equally possessed of all the knowledge m
the art which had been discovered in the works of their
predecessors."*
♦ Discourses before the Royal Academy, vi.
228 fMAtflNATION.
^214. On the utility of the faculty of the imagination.
We have proceeded thus far in endeavouring to explain
the nature of imagination; and we here turn aside from
this general subject, for the purpose of remarking on the
utility of this power. And this appeai-s to be necessary,
since there are some who seem disposed to prejudice its
claims in that respect. They warmly recommend the
careful culture of the memory, the judgment, and the rea-
soning power, but look coldly and suspiciously on the
imagination, and would rather encourage a neglect of it.
But there is ground for apprehending that a neglect of
this noble faculty in any person who aspires to a full de-
velopement and growth of the mind, cannot be justified,
either by considerations drawn from the nature of the
mind itself, or by the practical results of such a course.
In speaking on the utility of the imagination, it is cer-
tainly a very natural reflection that the Creator had some
design or purpose in furnishing men with it, since we find
universally that he does nothing in vain. And what de-
sign could he possibly have, if he did not intend that it
should be employed, that it should be rendered active,
and trained up with a suitable degree of culture ? But if
we are thus forced upon the conclusion that this faculty
was designed to be rendered active, we must further sup-
pose that its exercise was designed to promote some useful
purpose. And such, although it has sometimes been per-
verted, has been the general result.
Nowhere is the power of imagination seen to better
advantage than in the Prophets of the Old Testament.
If it be said that those venerable writers w^ere inspired, it
will still remain true that this was the faculty of the mind
which inspiration especially honoured by the use which
was made of it. And how many monuments may every
civilized nation boast of in painting, architecture, and
sculpture, as well as in poetry, where the imagination, in
contributing to the national glory, has, at the same time,
contributed to the national happiness ! Many an hour it
has beguiled by the new situations it has depicted, and
the new views of human nature it has disclosed ; many a
pang of the heart it has subdued, either by introducing us
to greater woes which others have suffered, or by intoxi-
IMAGINATION. 229
catmg the memory with its luxuriance and lulling it into
a forgetfulness of ourselves ; many a good resolution it
has cherished, and subtending, as it were, a new and
wider horizon around the intellectual being, has filled the
soul with higher conceptions, and inspired it with higher
hopes. Conscious of its immortal destiny, and struggling
against the bounds that limit it, the «oul enters with joy
into those new and lofty creations which it is the prerog-
ative of the imagination to form ; and they seem to it a
congenial residence. Such are the views which obviously
present themselves on the slightest consideration of this
subject ; and it i*" not strange, therefore, that we^ find in
the writings of lO less a judge than Addison, some re-
marks to this eiiect, that a refined imagination " gives a
man a kind of property in everything he sees, and makes
the most rude, uncultivated parts of nature administer to
his pleasures ; so that he looks upon the world, as it were,
in another light, and discovers in it a multitude of charms
that conceal themselves from the generality of mankind.''
^ 215. Importance of the imagination in connexion with reasoning.
In remarking on the subject of the utility of the ima-
gination, there is one important point of view in which it
is capable of being considered ; that of the relation of the
imagination to the other intellectual powers. And, among
other things, there is obviously ground for the remark, that
a vigorous and well-disciplined imagination may be made
subservient to promptness, and clearness, and success in
reasoning. The remark is made, it will be noticed, on
the supposition of the imagination being well disciplined,
which implies that it is under suitable control ; otherwise
it will rather encumber and perplex than afford aid.
Take, for instance, two persons, one of whom has cul-
tivated the reasoning power exclusive of the imagination.
We will suppose him to possess very deservedly the rep-
utation of an able and weighty dialectician ; but it will
* be obvious to the slightest observation, that there is, in
one respect, a defect and failure ; there is an evident want
of selection and vivacity in the details of his argument.
He cannot readily appreciate the relation which the hear-
er's mind sustains to the facts which he wishes to pre-
U
230 IMAGINATION.
sent ; and accordingly, with much expense of patience on
their part, he laboriously and very scrupulously takes up
and examines everything w^hich can come within his
grasp, and bestows upon everything nearly an equal share
of attention. And hence it is, that many persons who
are acknowledged to be learned, diligent, and even suc-
cessful in argument^ at the same time sustain the reputa-
tion, which is by no means an enviable one, of being
dull, tiresome, and uninteresting.
Let us now look a moment at another person, twho is
not only a man of great powers of ratiocination, but has
cultivat&d his imagination, and has it under prompt and
judicious command.^i He casts his eye rapidly over the
whole field of argument, however extensive it may be,
and immediately perceives what facts are necessary to be
stated and what are not ; what are of prominent, and
what of subordinate importance ; what will be easily un-
derstood and possess an interest, and what will be diffi-
cult to be appreciated, and will also lose its due value
from a want of attraction. And he does this on the same
principles and in virtue of the same mental training
which enables the painter, architect, sculptor, and poet, to
present the outlines of grand and beautiful creations in
their respective arts. There is a suitableness in the dif-
ferent parts of the train of reasoning ; a correspondence
of one part to another ; a great and combined eifect, en-
hanced by every suitable decoration, and undiminished
by any misplaced excrescence, which undoubtedly implies
a perfection of the imagination in some degree kindred
with that which projected the group of the Laocoon,
crowned the hills of Greece with statues and temples,
and lives in the works of renowned poets. The debater,
who combines the highest results of reasoning vdth the
highest results of the imagination, throws the light of liis
own splendid conceptions around the radiance of truth ;
so that brightness shines in the midst of brightness, like
the angel of the Apocalypse in the sun.
DISORDERED INTELLECTl /LL AjTION. 231
CHAPTER XIV.
DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION,
(l.) EXCITED CONCEPTIONS. OR APPARITIONS.
^ 216. Disordered intellectual action as connected with the body.
Having completed our examination of the. Intellect so
far as it presents itself to our notice in its more frequent
and regular action, we now propose to conclude the sub-
ject, by giving some instances of intellectual states which
appear to take place in violation of its ordinary princi-
ples. Whatever anticipations we might have been dis-
posed to form A PRIORI, in relation to the action of the
mind, it is a matter abundantly confirmed by painful expe-
rience and observation, that its operations are not always
uniform ; and that, in some cases, as we shall have occa-
sion to see, it exhibits an utter and disastrous deviation
from the laws which commonly regulate it. The causes
of these deviations it may not be easy always, and in
all respects, to explain ; but it is well understood, that
they are frequently connected with an irregular and dis-
eased condition of the body.
The mind, it will be recollected, exists in the threefold
nature or threefold division of the Intellect, the Sensibil-
ities, and the Will. The action of the Will depends upon
the antecedent action of the Sensibilities; and that of
the sensitive nature is based upon the antecedent action
of the Intellect. The action of the Intellect or Under-
standing is twofold, External and Internal. And we
have already endeavoured, on a former occasion, to
show, that the developement of the External Under-
standing is first in the order of time, as it is obviously
first in the order of nature. It is here, so far as the mind
MS concerned, that we find th^ commencement of action ;
but it is well understood, and seems to be entirely unde-
niable, that all the action which takes place here, takes
place in connexion with bodily action. The External in-
tellect does not act, nor is it capable of acting, although
232 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
the mind is so constituted that the movement of all iht
other parts depends upon movement here, without the an-
tecedent affection of the outward or bodily senses. And
hence the intellect generally, and particularly the Exter-
nal intellect, is unfavourably affected, as a general thing,
in connexion with a disordered state of the bodily sys-
tem.
^ 217. Of excited conceptions and of apparitions in general.
The fact that disordered intellectual action is closely
connected w^ith a disordered state of the body, will aid,
in some degree, in the explanation of the interesting sub-
ject of EXCITED CONCEPTIONS Or APPARITIONS. Conceptions,
the consideration of which is to be resumed in the pres-
ent chapter, are those ideas which we have of any absent
object of perception. In their ordinary form they have
already been considered in a former part of this Work.
(See chapter viii., part i.) But they are found to vary-
in degree of strength ; and hence, when they are at the
highest intensity of w^hich they are susceptible, they may
be denominated vivified or excited conceptions. They
are otherwise called, particularly when they have their
origin in the sense of sight, apparitions.
Apparitions, therefore, are appearances, which seem to
be external and real, but which, in truth, have merely an
interior or subjective existence ; they are merely vivid or
excited conceptions. Accordingly, there may be appari-
tions, not only of angels and departed spirits, which ap-
pear to figure more largely in the history of apparitions
than other objects of sight ; but of landscapes, mountains,
rivers, precipices, festivals, armies, funeral processions,
temples ; in a word, of all visual perceptions which we
are capable of recalling. — Although there are excited
conceptions both of the hearing and the touch, and some-
times, though less frequently, of the other senses, which
succeed in reaching and controlling our belief with unreal
intimations, those of the sight, in consequence of the
great importance of that organ and the frequency of the
deceptions connected with it, claim especial attention
^ 218. Of the less permanent excfted conceptions of sight.
Excited conceptions, which are not permanent, but
(l.) EXCITED CONCEPTIONS OR APPARITIONS. 233
have merely a momentary, although a distinct and real
existence, are not uncommon. In explanation of these,
there ar^ two things to be noticed. — (I.) They are some-
times the result ol' the natural and ordinary exercise of
that power of forming conceptions, which all persons pos-
sess in a greater or less degree. We notice them partic-
ularly in children, in whom the conceptive or imaginative
power, so far as it is employed in giving existence to cre-
ations that have outline and form, is generally more ac-
tive than in later life. Children, it is well known, ^re
almost constantly projecting their inward conceptions into
outward space, and erecting the fanciful creations of the
mind amid the realities and forms of matter, beholding
houses, men, towers, flocks of sheep, clusters of trees, and
varieties of landscape in the changing clouds, in the
wreathed and driven snow, in the fairy-work of frost,
and in the embers and flickering flames of the hearth.
This at least was the experience of the early life of Cow-
per, who has made it the subject of a fine passage m the
poem of the Task.
" Me oft has fancy, ludicrous and wild,
Soothed with a waking dream of houses, towers,
Trees, churches, and strange visages expressed
In the red cinders, while, with poring eye,
I gazed, myself creating what I saw."
Beattie too, after the termination of a winter's storm,
places his young Minstrel on the shores of the Atlantic,
to view the heavy clouds that skirt the distant horizon :
" Where mid the changeful scenery ever new,
Fancy a thousand wondrous forms descries,
More wildly great than ever pencil drew,
Rocks, torrent, gulfs, and shapes of giant size,
And glittering cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts rise."
(II.) Again, excited conceptions, which are not per-
manent, are frequently called into existence in connexion
with some anxiety and grief of mind, or some other mod-
ification of mental excitement A person, for instance,
standing on the seashore, and anxiously expecting the
approach of his vessel, will sometimes see the image of
it, and will be certain, for the moment, that he has tbe
object of his anticipations in view, although, in truth, there
U2
234 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
is ni vessel in sight. That is to say, the conception,
idea, or image of the vessel, which it is evidently in the
power of every one to form who has previously seen one,
is rendered so intense by feelings of anxiety, as to be the
same in effect as if the real object w^ere present, and the
figure of it w-ere actually pictured on the retina. — It is in
connexion with this view that we may probably explain
a remark in the narrative of Mrs. Howe's captivity, who
in 1775 was taken prisoner, together with her seven
children, by the St. Francois Indians. In the course of
her captivity, she w^as at a certain time informed by the
Indians that two of her children were no more ; one hav-
ing died a natural death, and the other being knocked on
the head. " I did not utter many words," says the mother,
" but my heart was sorely pained within me, and 7ny
mind exceedingly troubled with strange and awful ideas^
[meaning conceptions, or images.] I often imagined, for
instance, that I plainly saw the naked carcasses of my
children hanging upon the limbs of trees, as the Indians
are wont to hang the raw hides of those beasts which
they take in hunting." //
^ 219. Of the less permanent excited conceptions of sound
In regard to excited conceptions of sound, (we may
remark incidentally, as we intend to confine ourselves
chiefly to those of sight,) they are not, as w^as seen in a
former part of this Work, (§ 60,) so easily called into
existence, and so vivid, as visual conceptions. Conse-
quently, we have grounds for making a distinction, and for
saying that only one of the remarks made in reference
to the less permanent excited conceptions of sight will
apply to those of sound. In other words, excited con-
ceptions of sound-(those which appear and depart sud-
denly, without any permanent inconvenience to the sub-
ject of them) originate in connexion with a greater or
less degree of mental excitement. — Persons, for instance,
sitting alone in a room, are sometimes interrupted by the
supposed hearing of a voice, which calls to them. But,
in truth, it is only their own internal conception of that
particular sound, which, in consequence of some peculiar
mental state, happens at the moment to be so distinct, as
f I.) EX ITED CONCEPTIONS OR APPARITIONS. 235
to control theii belief and impose itself upon them for a
reality. This is probably the whole mysteiy of what
Bos well has related as a singular incident in the life of
Dr. Johnson, that while at Oxford he distinctly heard his
mother call him by his given name, although she was at
the very time in Litchfield. — The same principle explains
also what is related of Napoleon. Previously to his Rus-
sian expedition, he was frequently discovered half recli-
ned on a sofa, w^here he remained several hours, plunged
in profound meditation. Sometimes he started up con-
vulsively, and w^ith an ejaculation. Fancying he heard
his name, he would exclaim. Who calls me? These are
the sounds, susceptible of being heard at any time in the
desert air, which started Robinson Crusoe from his sleep,
when there was no one on his solitary island but himself:
" The airy tongues, that syllable men's names,
On shores, in desert sands, and wildernesses."
<) 220. First cause of permanently vivid conceptions or apparitions.
Morbid sensibility of the retina of the eye.
We have been led to see, particularly in a former
chapter, (§ 64,) as well as in the preceding part of this,
that our conceptions or renovated ideas may be so vivid
as to affect our belief for a short time hardly less power-
fully than the original perceptions. But as in the cases
referred to there was not supposed to be an unsound or
disordered state of the body, this extreme vividness of
conception was exceedingly transitory. There are other
cases of a comparatively permanent character, which are
deserving of a more particular notice in the history of
our mental nature. These last always imply a disor-
dered state of the body, which we were led to see in the
last chapter is often attended with very marked effects on
the mind.
In attempting to give an explanation of the origin of
permanently vivid conceptions, the first ground or caiisi;
of them which we shall notice »is an unnatural and mor-
bid sensibility of the retina of the eye, either the whoJe
of the retina or only a part. This cause, it is true, is in
some degree conjectural, in consequence of the retina
being so situated as to render it difficult to make it a sub-
236 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
ject of observation and experiment. But knowing, as ^re
do, that the nervous system generally is liable to be dis-
eased, and that the disease of a particular portion is com-
monly productive of results having relation to the object
or uses of that portion, we may'for this reason, as well as
for what we know directly and positively of the occasion-
ally disordered affections of the optic nerve, give it a
place in the explanations of the subject before us. In
order to understand the applicability of this cause of per-
manently vivid conceptions or apparitions, it is necessary
to keep in mind, that, in conceptions of visible objects,
there is probably always a slight sympathetic affection of
the retina of the eye, analogous to what exists when the
visible object is actually present. In a perfectly healthy
state of the body, including the organ of visual sense,
this affection of the retina is of course very slight. But,
under the influence of a morbid sensibility, the mere con-
ceptions of the mind may at times impart such an increas-
ed activity to the whole or a part of the retina, as to give
existence to visual or spectral illusions.
There is an account given in a foreign Medical Journal
(the Medico-chirurgical Repertory of Piedmont) of a
young lady, who attended for the first time the music of
an orchestra, with which she was exceedingly pleased.
She continued to hear the sounds distinctly and in their
order for weeks and months afterward, till her whole
system becoming disordered in consequence of it, she
died. Now we naturally suppose, in this case, that the
nerve of the tympanum of the ear, which, both in a physi-
ological point of view and in its relation to the mind,
corresponds to the retina of the eye, continued actually
to vibrate or reverberate with the sound, although she
was no longer within ^hearing of it. In other words, it
was diseased ; it had become morbidly sensitive, and in
this state was a source of action to itself, independently
6f any outward, cause* And as the mental state or sensa-
tion of sound depends upon the actual condition of the
auditory nerve, independently of the outward causes which
may have been instrumental in producing that particular
condition, we see how the sounds, which she at first heard
for a few hours, continued for a number of months rfter
(l.) EX.ITED CONCEPTIONS OR APPARITIONS. 237
10 be generated and repeated. — And so in regard to the
optic nerve. It may be so morbidly sensitive, that the
mere conception, of a man or of some other visible object
may affect it as really and in the same way as if the
man were actually present to the sight. And if so, the
individual who is subject to this morbid affection has the
power in himself of originating and sustaining the repr»i-
sentation or pictures of objects, although no such objects
are present. In other words, as these results depend upon
the state of his physical system and not upon volition, he
is properly said to be subject to Apparitions. — We will
only add, in confirmation of what has been said, that in
one of the most interesting cases of spectl^al illusions or
apparitions which has been published, the person who
was the subject of them expressly states, that for some
hours preceding their occurrence she had a peculiar feel-
ing in the eyes, which was relieved as soon as they had
passed away.*
^ 221. Second cause of permanent))' excited conceptions or apparitions.
Neglect of periodical blood-letting.
But there are other causes of the mental states under
consideration, which, in some respects at least, are not so
closely and exclusively connected with the eye. One is
the neglect of periodical blood-letting. The doctrine,
that permanently excited conceptions or apparitions are
►attendant on a superabundance of blood, occasioned by
this neglect, seems to be illustrated and confirmed by the
actual and recorded experience of various individuals, as
in the following instance.
Nicolaiy the name of the individual to whom the state-
ments here given relate, was an inhabitant of Berlin, a
celebrated bookseller, and naturally a person of a very
vivid imagination. He was neither an ignorant man, nor
superstitious ; a fact which some undoubtedly will esteem
it important to know. The following account of the ap-
paritions which appeared to kim is given in his own
words. — "My wife and another person came into my
apartment in the morning, in order to console me, but I
was too much agitated by a series of incidents, which had
* Brewster's Natural Magic, letter iii.
238 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
most powerfully affected my moral feeling, to be capable
of attending to them. On a sudden I perceived, at about
the distance of ten steps, a form like that of a deceased
person. I pointed at it, asking my wife if she did not see
it. It was but natural that she should not see anything ;
my question, therefore, alarmed her very much, and she
immediately sent for a physician. The phantom continued
about eight minutes. I grew at length more calm, and,
being extremely exhausted, fell into a restless sleep, which
lasted about half an hour. The physician ascribed the
apparition to a violent mental emotion, and hoped there
;vould be no return ; but the violent agitation of my mind
,lad in some way disordered my nerves, and produced
/urther consequenpes, which deserve a more minute de-
scription.
" At four in the afternoon, the form which I had seen
.1 the morning reappeared. I was by myself when this
\-appened, and, being rather uneasy at the incident, went
id my wife's apartment, but there likewise I w^as persecu-
ted by the apparition, which, however, at intervals disap-
peared, and always presented itself in a standing posture.
About six o'clock there appeared also several walking
figures, which had no connexion with the first. After the
ijrst day the form of the deceased person no more appear-
ed, but its place was supplied with many other phantasnas,
.^metimes representing acquaintances, but mostly stran-
j^ers ; those whom I knew were composed of living and
>ieceased persons, but the number of the latter was com-
paratively small. I observed the persons with whom I
daily conversed did not appear as phantasms, these repre-
senting chiefly persons who lived at some distance from me.
" These phantasms seemed equally clear and distinct at
all times and under all circumstances, both when I was
by myself and when I was in company, as well in the day
"" as at night, and in my own house as well as abroad ;
they were, however, less frequent when I was in the
house of a friend, and rarely appeared to me in the street.
When I shut my eyes, these phantasms would sometimes
vanish entirely, though there were instances when I be-
held them with my eyes closed, yet, when they disap-
peared on such occasions, they generally returned when
(L) EXCITED CONCEPTIONS OR APPARITIONS. 239
I opened my eyes. I conversed sometimes with my phy-
sician and my wife of the phantasms which at the moment
surrounded me ; they appeared more frequently walking
than at rest, nor were they constantly present. They fre-
quently did not come for some time, but always reap-
peared for a longer or shorter period, either singly or in
company, the latter, however, being most frequently tlie
case. I generally saw human forms of both sexes, but
they usually seemed not to take the smallest notice of
each other, moving as in a market-place, where all are
eager to press through the crowd; at times, however,
they seemed to be transacting business with each other.
I also saw, several times, people on horseback, dogs, and
birds. All these phantasms appeared to me in their nat-
ural size, and as distinct as if alive, exhibiting different
shades of carnation in the uncovered parts, as well as dif-
ferent colours and fashions in their dresses, though the
colours seemed somewhat paler than in real nature. None
of the figures appeared particularly terrible, comical, or
disgusting, most of them being of an indifferent shape,
and some presenting a pleasing aspect. The longer these
phantoms continued to visit me, the more frequently did
they return, while, at the same time, they increased in
number about four weeks after they had first appeared
I also began to hear them talk ; these phantoms some-
times conversed among themselves, but more frequently
addressed their discourse to me ; their speeches were com-
monly short, and never of an unpleasant turn. At differ-
ent times there appeared to me both dear and sensible
friends of both sexes, whose addresses tended to appease
my grief, which had not yet wholly subsided : their con-
solatory speeches were, in general, addressed to me when
I was alone. Sometimes, however, I was accosted by
these consoling friends while I was engaged in company
and not unfrequently while real persons were speaking to
me. These consolatory addresses consisted sometimes of
abrupt phrases, and at other*times they were regularly
executed."
^ 222. Methods of relief adopted in this case.
These are the leading facts in this case, so far as the
240 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
mere appearance of the apparitions is concerned. But aa
Nicolai, besides possessing no small amount of acquired
knowledge, was a person of a naturally philosophic turn
of mind, he Avas able to detect and to assign the true
cause of his mental malady. — He w^as, it is to be remem-
bered, in the first place, a person of very vivid fancy, and
hence his mind was the more likely to be affected by any
disease of the body. A number of years before the oc-
currences above related, he had been subject to a violent
vertigo, w^hich had been cured by means of leeches ; it
w^as his ciistom to lose blood twice a year, but previously
to the present attack, this evacuation had been neglected.
Supposing, therefore, that a mental disorder might arise
from a superabundance of blood and some irregularity in
the circulation, he again resorted to the application of
leeches. When the leeches w^ere applied, no person was
with him besides the surgeon ; but, during the operation,
his chamber was crowded with human phantasms of all
descriptions. In the course of a few hours, however, they
moved around the chamber more slowly; their colour
began to fade, until, growing more and more obscure,
they at last dissolved into air, and he ceased to be troubled
wdth them afterward.*
<5 223. Third cause of excited conceptions. Attacks of fever.
In violent attacks of fever there are sometimes excited
conceptions, particularly those which have their origin in
the sense of sight, and are known, by way of distinction,
under the name of Apparitions. The conceptions which
the sick person has, become increased in vividness, until
the mind, seeming to project its own creations into the
exterior space, peoples the room with living and moving
phantoms. There is a statement illustrative of this view
in the fifteenth volume of Nicholson's Philosophical Jour-
nal, a part of which will be here repeated. The fever in
this instance, of which an account is given by the patient
himself, was of a violent character, originating in some
deep-seated inflammation, and at first affecting the mem-
ory, although not permanently.
* Memoir on the appearance of Spectres or Phantoms occasioned by
Disease, with Psychological Remarks, read by Nicolai to the Royal So
ciety of Berlin on the 28th of February, 1799; as quoted by Hibbert,
t^t. i., ch. i.
(i ) EXCITED CONCEPTIONS OE APPARITIONS. 241
" Being perfectly awake," says this person, " in full
possession of memory, reason, and calmness, conversing
with those around me, and seeing, without difficulty or
unpediment, every surrounding object, I was entertained
and dehghted with a succession of faces, over which I
had no control, either as to their appearance, continuance
or removal.
" They appeared directly before me, one at a time, very
suddenly, yet not so much so but that a second of time
might be employed in the emergence of each, as if
through a cloud or mist, to its perfect clearness. In this
state each face continued five or six seconds, and then
vanished, by becoming gradually fainter during about two
seconds, till nothing was left but a dark opaque mist, in
which almost immediately afterward appeared another
face. All these faces were in the highest degree interest-
ing to me for beauiy of form, and for the variety of ex-
pression they manifested of every great and amiable emo-
tion of the human mind. Though their attention was
mvariably directed to me, and none of them seemed to
speak, yet I seemed to read the very soul which gave an-
imation to their lovely and intelligent countenances. Ad-
miration and a sentiment of joy and affection when each
face appeared, and regret upon its disappearance, kept my
mind constantly riveted to the visions before it ; and this
state was interrupted only when an intercourse with the
persons in the room^was proposed or urged," &c. — The ap-
paritions which this person experienced were not limited to
phantasms of the human countenance ; he also saw phan-
tasms of books, and of parchment and papers contain-
ing printed matter. Nor were these effects exclusive-
ly confined to ideas received from the sense of sight ; at
one time he seemed to himself to hear musical sounds.
Tliat is, his conceptions of sound were so exceedingly
vivid, it was in effect the same as if he had really hecird
melodious voices and instruments
• •
4 224. Fourth cause of apparitions and other excited conceptions. In
flammation of the brain.
Apparitions, and excited conceptions m general, exist,
m the fourth place, in consequence of inflammations and
242 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
other diseases of the brain. — We ma(y infer, from certau)
passages which are found in his writings, that Shakspeare
had some correct notions of the influence of a disordered
condition of the brain on the mental operations. "We al-
lude, among others, to the passage where, in explanation
of the apparition of the dagger which appeared to Mac-
beth, he says,
" A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain/'
Whether the seat, or appropriate and peculiar residence
of the soul, be in the brain or not, it seems to be certain^
that this part of the bodily system is connected, in a very
intimate and high degree, w4th the exercises of the mind ;
particularly with perception and volition. Whenever,
therefore, the brain is disordered, whether by a contusion
or by a removal of part of it, by inflammation or in oth-
er ways, the mind will in general be affected in a. greater
or less degree. — It may indeed be said, that the immedi-
ate connexion, in the cases which w^e now have reference
to, is not between the mind and the substance of the
brain, but between the mind and the blood which is
thrown into that part of the system. It is, no doubt, some-
thing in favour of this notion, that so laige a portion of
the sanguineous fluid finds a circulation there ; it being a
common idea among anatomists, that at least one tenth
of all the blood is immediately sent from the heart into
the brain, although the latter is m weight only about the
fortieth part of the whole body. It is to be considered
also, that the efl*ects which are wrought upon the mind
by the nitrous oxide and the febrile miasma gas are caus-
ed by an intermediate influence on the blood. On the
other hand, it may be said that there cannot be a great ac-
celeriition of the blood's motion or increase of its volume,
without a very sensible effect on the cerebral substance.
And, therefore, it may remain true, that very much may
be justly attributed to the increase of quantity and motion
in the blood, and still the brain be the proximate cause of
alterations in the states of the mind.
^ 225. Facts having relation to the 4th cause of excited conceptions.
But here we stand in need of facts, as in all other parts
(l.) EXCITED CONCEPTIONS OR APPARITIONS. 242
of this investigation. The following statement, selected
from a number of others not less authenticated, can be
relied on.* — -A citizen of Kingston-on-Hull had a quar-
rel with a drunken soldier, who attempted to enter his
house by force at an unseasonable hour. In this struggle
the soldier drew his bayonet, and, striking him across the
temples, divided the temporal artery. He had scarcely re-
covered from the effects of a great loss of blood on this
occasion, when he undertook to accompany a friend in
his walking-match against time, in which he went forty-
. two miles in nine hours. He was elated by his success,
and spent the whole of the following day in drinking, &c
The result of these things was an affection, probably
an inflammation, of the brain. And the consequence of
this was the existence of those vivid states of mind which
are termed apparitions. Accordingly, our shopkeeper
(for that was the calling of this person) is reported to
have seen articles of sale upon the floor, and to have be-
held an armed soldier entering his shop, when there was
nothing seen by other persons present. In a word, he
was for some time constantly haunted by a variety of
spectres or imaginary appearances ; so much so, that he
even found it difficult to determine which were real cus-
tomers and which were mere phantasms of his own mind.
The remedy in this case v^^as blood-letting, and some oth-
er methods of cure which are practised in inflammations
of the brain. The restoration of the mind to a less in-
tense and more correct action was simultaneous with that
of the physical system.
^ 226. Fifth cause of apparitions. Hysteria. *
It is further to be observed, that people are not unfre
quently affected with apparitions in the paroxysms of the
disease known as hysteria or hysterics. — For the nature
of this disease, which exists under a variety of forms, and
is of a character so peculiar as to prelude any adequate
dlescription in the narrow limits we could properly allot
to it, the reader is referred to such books as treat of med-
ical subjects. This singular disease powerfully agitates
the mind ; and its effects are as various as they are stri»
* See the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal, vol. vi., p. 288
244 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
king. When the convulsive affections come on, the pa-
tient is observed to laugh and cry alternately, and alto-
gether without any cause of a rational or iporal nature ;
so that he has almost the appearance of fatuity, or of be-
ing dehrious. But apparitions or intensely vivid concep-
tions are among its most striking attendants. The sub-
jects o£ it distinctly see every description of forms ; trees,
houses, men, women, dogs, and other inferior animals,
balls of fire, celestial beings, &c. We can, without doubt,
safely refer to the experience of those who have been
much conversant vnih instances of this disease, in confir-
mation of this.
The existence of the states of mind under considera-
tion might, without much question, be found, on further
examination, to connect itself with other forms of disease.
The subject is certainly worthy, whether considered in
relation to science or to human happiness, of such further
developements as it is capable of receiving.
CHAPTER XV.
DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION,
(ll.) INSANITY.
^ 227. Meaning of the term insanity.
In illustration of the general subject of disordered m
tellectual action, we proceed, in the next place, to the
consideration of that more decided internal mental de-
rangement which is knoAvn as insanity. The term Insan-
ity, etymologically considered, indicates simply a want of
soundness or want of health. In its application to the
mind, it indicates an unsound or disordered state of the
mental action; generally, however, of a more decided
and deeply seated nature than that form of disordered in-
tellect which has already been considered under the head
of APPARITIONS.
As the mind is complicated in its structure, existing, as
it were, in various departments and subdivisions of depart-
(ll.) INSANITY. 245
ments, the disordered action, which we now propose tc
consider, may pervade either the whole mind, or exist ex-
chisively in some one of its departments. Accordingly,
Insanity may be regarded either as partial or total ; in-
volving either the whole mind, or only a part. The
method which we propose to pursue in the investigation
of the subject, is to consider it in connexion with the
powders of the mind separately, as affording, on the whole,
the most satisfactory view. And it is proper to add here,
that we examine it at present only so far as it may nat-
urally be supposed to exist in connexion with the Intel-
lect, leaving the consideration of it, as it is occasionally
found to exist in the Sensibilities, to a more appropri?^^*r
place.
$ 228. Of disordered or alienated sensations.
Beginning with the External Intellect, the power which
first presents itself to our notice is Sensation. It is well
known that all the outward senses are liable to be disor-
dered, and, as the inward sensation corresponds to the
condition of the outward or bodily organ, a disordered or
irregular movement of the organ of sense necessarily com-
municates itself to the inward or mental state. A regular
or healthy sensation always has reference to some out-
ward cause, (we mean here outward, even in reference to
the organ of sense,) but a disease in the bodily organ dis-
turbs this relation, and necessarily gives to the inward
mental state the character, as compared with other sensa-
tions, of being unreal, visionary, and deceptive. Not un-
real and deceptive in itself, but because it intimates a re-
lation which is obliterated, and tends to force upon our
belief an outward cause which has no existence.
There are diseased or disordered visual sensations, ex-
isting in connexion with a morbid condition of the visual
organ ; but as this view of the subject wa;* necessarily in-
volved, in some degTee, in what has already been said on
^e subject of excited concept^ns or Apparitions, it is not
necessary to enlarge upon it here. There are also diseas-
ed or disordered sensations of touch. A single instance,
out of multitudes like it, will serve both to illustrate and
to confirm the remark. In the Natural Magic of Dr.
X2
246 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
Brewster is an account of a lady (the case which we have
already had occasion to refer to) who was subject to spec-
tral illusions, of whom it is expressly said, in connexion
with her remarkable mental affections, that she possesses
" a naturally morbid imagination, so strongly affecting
her corporeal impressions, that the story of any person
having suffered severe pain by accident or otherwise will
occasionally produce acute twinges in the corresponding
part of her person. An account, for instance, of the am-
putation of an arm, will produce an instantaneous and se-
vere sense of pain in her own arm." There are also (and
we might apply the statement to all the senses without
exception) diseased or disordered sensations of hearing.
The celebrated Mendelsohn was frequently subject to the
attacks of a violent species of catalepsis. And it hap-
pened, if he had recently heard any lively conversation,
a loud voice apparently repeated to him, while in the fit,
the particular words, which had been distino-uished from
others by being pronounced with an emphatic and raised
tone of voice, and " in such a manner that his ear rever-
berated with the sound."
"5 229. Of disordered or alienated external perception.
We naturally proceed from sensation to a power closely
connected w^ith it, that of External Perception. Indeed,
what has been said of sensation will apply, in a consider-
able degree, to the last-mentioned power, because sensa-
tion naturally precedes perception, and is always involved
in it. But perception, while it involves sensation, implies
also something more, something additional ; it involves
the reference of the inward mental state to the outward
cause or object, and not unfrequently implies also acts of
comparison, by which it distinguishes one cause from an-
other. And particularly is this the case in respect to those
perceptions which are designated as acquired perceptions,
in order to distinguish them from original. So that, in
view of what has been said, it would seem to be the fact,
in the first place, that, when our sensations are disorder-
ed, our perceptions will be so likewise. But this is not
all. In consequence of some interior cause, such as an
inability to attend to a thing for any length of time, or
(n.) INSANITY. 247
incapacity of instituting comparisons, disordered and false
external perceptions will sometimes exist when there ap-
pears to be no unsoundness in the sensations.
Agreeably to these views, we find that persons, in whom
the power of external perception is disordered from the
first of the two causes just referred to, sometimes have
perceptions of colour which do not accord with those of
mankind generally, being entirely unable, for instance, to
distinguish blue from green. Other persons, again, have
no distinct perception of minute sounds, and take no more
pleasure in the harmonies of a musical composition of
truly great merit, than they do in the most discordant
screams. When the disordered action of the perceptive
power originates from the second cause, the subjects of it
are apt to confound times, persons, and places. They
mistake, for instance, their friends and relations for oth-
ers, and are at a loss as to the place where they are, al-
though they may have been in it hundreds of times before.
They exhibit particularly this species of alienated percep-
tion when they attempt to read a book. They no doubt
see the letters no less than others, but the action of the
mind, in other respects, not being such as to permit them
to dwell upon them, and compare and combine them into
words, they are unable to read ; it is, at least, exceedingly
difficuft.
4 230. Disordered state or insanity of original suggestion.
When we pass from the External to the Internal intel-
lect, from the region of sensation and external perception
to the interior domain of Original Suggestion, to the con-
victions involved in Consciousness, to the important pow-
ers of Relative Suggestion, Memory, and Reasoning, we
are introduced, indeed, to a higher order of mental action,
but we find no exemption from those disorders to which
the human mind, in all its great departments, is occasion-
ally exposed. — In regard to Original Suggestion, which
comes first in order, a power which deals with original
ideas end principles merely, without professing to ascer-
tain the relations existing among them, it must be admit-
ted that it does not give so frequent and decided indica-
tions of disordered action as we find elsewhere. Never-
248 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
theless, this is sometimes the case. The conviction, for
instance, not only that we exist, but that we have per-
sonal identity ; that we are now what we have been in
times past in all that constitutes us rational and account-
able beings, is obviously essential to a sound mind. But
this elementary and important conviction, which obviously
does not rest upon judgment nor the deductions pf rea-
soning, but upon the higher basis of original suggestion,
is sometimes annulled, either in whole or in part. To
this head, so far as the conviction of the identity of the
mind is concerned, we may refer the interesting case of
the Rev. Simon Browne, an English clergyman, who fully
believed, for many years before his death, that he had
entirely lost his rational part or soul, and was the pos-
sessor merely of a corporeal or animal life, such as is pos-
sessed by the brutes. He was a man of marked ability,
both in conversation and writing ; and this, too, on all
subjects not connected with his malady, after his partial
alienation. But so entirely was he convinced of the ab-
sence, and of the probably actual extinction of his soul,
that, in a valuable work which he dedicated to the Queen
of England, he speaks of it in the dedication as the work
of one who " was once a man ; of some little name ; but
of no worth, as his present unparalleled case makes but too
manifest; for, by the immediate hand of an avenging
God, his very thinking substance has, for more than sev-
enteen years, been gradually wasting away, till it is wholly
perished out of him, if it be not utterly come to nothing."*
^ 231. Unsoundness or insanity of consciousness.
The basis of the various convictions or judgments oi
Consciousness, as that term is defined and illustrated by
writers, is the antecedent idea and belief of personal iden-
tity. If this last conviction, therefore, be lost, as in the
case mentioned in the last section, all that is involved in
Consciousness goes with it. It is the business of Con-
sciousness to connect the acts of the mind with the mind
itself; to consolidat*e them, as it were, into one. But if,
in our full belief, our mind is destroyed ; if self or person-
ality is obliterated, then it is clearly no longer within the
* ConoUy's Indications of Insanity, ch. x.
(ll.) INSANITY. 249
power of consciousness to recognise our various acts of
perception and reasoning as having a home and agency
in our own bosoms. Self is destroyed ; and the mental
acts which are appropriate to self are mere entities, float-
ing about, as it were, in the vacuities of space, without
the possibility of being assigned to any locality or ascri-
bed to any cause. The instance, therefore, mentioned in
the preceding section, which may be regarded as of a
mixed kind, (that is to say, showing a perplexed action,
both of Original Suggestion and Consciousness,) will serve
to illustrate what is said here. — Another instance, not less
striking, is that of a celebrated watchmaker of Paris, who
became insane during the period of the French Revolu-
tion. This man believed that he and some others had
been beheaded, but that the heads were subsequently or-
dered to be restored to the original owners. Some .mis-
take, however, as the insane person conceived, was com-
mitted in the process of restoration, in consequence of
which he had unfortunately been furnished with the head
of one of his companions instead of his own. He was
admitted into the hospital Bicetre, " where he was con-
tinually complaining of his misfortune, and lamenting the
fine teeth and wholesome breath he had exchanged for
those of very different qualities."
Instances also have probably, from time to time, occur-
red, in which, although the conviction of personality and
personal identity has remained, yet in the fixed belief of
the insane person the bond of connexion between the
mind and its powers has been dissolved ; and the memory
perhaps, or the reasoning, or the imagination, which once
bel Dnged to himself, has been transferred by some myste-
riojs agency to an intellect more favoured than his own.
^ 232. Insanity of the judgment or relative suggestion.
Pursuing this subject in its connexion with the powers
of the Internal Intellect in the order in which they pre-
sented themselves to our notice in the Second Part of
this Division, and which seem* to be essentially the order
of nature, we next proceed to Relative Suggestion. The
power of Relative Suggestion, like that of Original Sug-
gestion, is exceedingly simple in its action, being hmiteid
250 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
to the mere matter of perceiving relations ; but it is dif-
ferent in this respect, that while mental disorder but sel-
dom reaches original suggestion, there is scarcely an in-
stance of decidedly disordered intellect, in which relative
suggestion (that is to say, judgment in its simplest form)
is not affected in a greater or less degree. And this
seems to be unavoidable. For relations always imply
the existence of something else, of other objects. And
if mistakes, in consequence of a wrong mental action in
other respects, exist in regard to those other things^ what-
ever they may be, they necessarily either annul or great-
ly perplex the results of the power by which such rela-
tions are perceived. — Besides this, the power in its own
nature, and independently of perplexities from other
sources, is liable to be, and is in fact, sometimes disordered.
But as this subject is closely connected with that of rea-
soning, and as they reciprocally throw light upon each
other, we shall say nothing further here.
4 233. Disordered or alienated association. Light-heaclediiess
The laws of the mind, the great principles which reg-
ulate its action, as w-ell as its mere perceptions or states,
may be disordered ; for instance, the law" of association.
The irregular action of this important principle of our in-
tellectual nature is sometimes greater, at others less.
There is one of the slighter forms of mental alienation
from this cause, which may be termed light-headedness ;
otherwise callei:! by Pinel, demence, and by Dr. Rush,
dissociation. Persons subject to this mental disease are
sometimes designated as " flighty," " hair-brained ;" and
when the indications of it are pretty decided, as a " little
cracked." — ^Their disorder seems chiefly to consist in a
deficiency of the ordinary powder over associated ideas.
Their thoughts fly from one subject to another with great
rapidity; and, consequently, one mark of this state of
mind is great volubility of speech and almost constant
motion of the body. This rapid succession of ideas and
attendant volubility of tongue are generally accompanied
with forgetfulness in a greater or less degree. And as
the subject of this form of derangement is equally incapa-
ble of checking and reflecting upon his present ideas.
(ll.) INSANITY. 251
and of recalling the past, he constantly fom^ incorrect
judgments of things. Another mark which has been
given is a diminished sensibility to external impressions.
^ 234. Illustrations of this mental disorder.
Dr. Rush, in his valuable work on the Diseases of the
Mind, has repeated the account which an English clergy-
man who visited Lavater, the physiognomist, has given
of that singular character. It accurately illustrates this
mental disorder. — " 1 was detained," says he, " the whole
* morning by the strange, wild, eccentric Lavater, in vari-
ous conversations. When once he is set agoing, there is
no such thing as stopping him till he runs himself out of
breath. He starts from subject to subject, flies from book
to book, from picture to picture; measures your nose,
your eye, your mouth, with a pair of compasses ; pours
forth a torrent of physiognomy upon you ; drags you, for
a proof of his dogma, to a dozen of closets, and unfolds
ten thousand drawings ; but will not let you open your
hps to propose a difficulty ; and crams a solution down
your throat before you have uttered half a syllable of
your objection.
" He is as meager as the picture of famine ; his nose
and chin almost meet. I read him in my turn, and found
little difficulty in discovering, amid great genius, unaf-
fected piety, unbounded benevolence, and moderate learn-
ing, much caprice and unsteadiness ; a mind at once as-
piring by jiature and grovelling through necessity ; an
endless turn to speculation and project; in a w^ord, a
clever, flighty, good-natured, necessitous man."
6 235. Of partial insanity or alienation of the memory.
Among other exhibitions of partial insanity, using the
terms in the manner already explained, we may include
some of the more striking instances of weakened and
disordered memory. Every other part of the intellect
may be sound and regular in its action, (for it will be rec-
oUected that we confine ourse^j^es here to the disorders
of the INTELLECT, without anticipating those of the Sen-
sibiHties and the Will,) the powers of perception, of asso-
ciation, of imagination, of reasoning, at least so far as
they are able to ao^ independent of the memory, while
252 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
the action of the latter power is either essentially obliter
ated, or is the subject of strange and unaccountable devi
ations. From the plan of this work, we are obliged to
content ourselves with the briefest possible notices ; and
can therefore only refer to one or two instances in illustra-
tion of what has been said. The instances of weakened
and perverted memory are of three kinds; (1.) those
where there is a general prostration, caused in various
ways, such as grief and old age ; (2.) those where there
is a sudden and entire prostration extending to particular
subjects, or through a particular period of time, generally
caused by some sudden and violent affection of the body ;
and, (3.) those where there is not so much an inordinate
weakness or obliteration of the power under considera-
tion, as a singularly perverse and irregular action of it. —
It is probably not necessary to say anything of the first
class. Of the second class is the case mentioned by Dr.
Beattie, of a gentleman w^ho, in consequence of a vio-
lent blow on the head, lost his knowledge of Greek, but
did not appear to have lost anything else. Another in-
stance is that mentioned by Dr. Abercrombie, of a lady
who, in consequence of a protracted illness, lost the recol-
lection of a period of about ten or twelve years ; but
spoke with perfect consistency of things as they stood
before that time. Of the third class is the case of a man
who always called tobacco a hogshead ; and of another
man who, when he wanted coals put upon his fire, always
called for paper, and when he Avanted paper, called for
coals ; and of another, who could not be made to under-
stand the name of an object if it was spoken to him, but
understood it perfectly when it was written. These three
cases will be found more particularly detailed in Dr. Ab-
ercrombie's Inquiries into the Intellectual Powers. A case
perhaps still more interesting is found in Dr. Conolly's In-
dications of Insanity, as follows :
" A gentleman of considerable attainments, after long-
continued attention to various subjects, found himself in-
capable of writing what he sat down to write ; and, wish-
ing to write a check, could get no farther than the first
two words; he found that he wrote what he did not
mean to write, but by no effort could he write what he
(ll.) INSANITY. 2t)3
intended. This impairment of his memory and attention
lasted about half an hour, during which time his exter-
nal senses were not impaired, but the only ideas which
he had were such as the imagination dictated, without
o^der and without object. He knew also, during this
time, that when he spoke, the words he uttered were not
the words he wished to utter. When he recovered, he
found that in his attempt to write the check, he had, in-
stead of the words 'fifty dollars, being one half year's
rate,' put down ' fifty dollars through the salvation of
Bra.' "
§ 236. Of the power of reasoning in the partially insane.
It will be noticed, so far as we have gone in the ex-
amination of the subject of insanity, that we have consid-
ered the powers of the mind separately. Probably every
power of the mind, but particularly those of the intellect,
may become more or less disordered. " Having considered
sensation, perception, original suggestion, consciousness,
judgment, association, and memory, we propose, as com-
ing next in order, to examine the subject in its connexfon
with the reasoning power. — Tn some cases of insanity
there is a total inability of reasoning. There is no pow-
er of attention, no power of comparison, and, of course,
no ability in the mind to pass from the premises of an ar-
gument to the conclusion. We have already had occa-
sion to refer to the power of relative suggestion, by means
of which comparisons are instituted. W^henever this pow-
er is disordered and fails to perform its office, such is the
close connexion between it and reasoning, the operations
of the latter are disturbed also. In such cases the ina-
bility to reason is total ; that is to say, it extends to all
subjects alike. But it is more frequently the case, that
the alienation of reasoning is not so extensive, but exists
chiefly in relation to certain subjects, in respect to which
the belief is affected. When the train of reasoning leads
the person within the range of those particular subjects,
whatever they are, we at once discover tliat the intellect
is disordered. And this view has led to the common re-
mark, which is obviously well founded, that the more
common form of insane or alienated reason does not con-
Y
2154 DISORDERED NTELLECTUAL ACTION.
sist SO much in the mode of connecting propositions, and
in the conclusions drawn from them, as in the premises.
The insane person beUeves, for instance, that he is a king.
Accordingly, he reasons correctly in requiring for himself
the homage suited to a king, and in expressing dissatisfac-
tion on account of its being withheld ; but he commits
an essential error in the premises, which assume that he
actually possesses that station.
^ 237. Instance of the above form of insanity of reasoning.
We have an instance of the form of insanity just men-
tioned in the character of Don Quixote. Cervantes rep-
resents the hero of his work as having his naturally good
understanding perverted by the perusal of certain fool-
ish, romantic stories, falsely purporting to be a true record
of knights and deeds of chivalry. These books, contain-
ing the history of dwarfs, giants, necromancers, and other
preternatural extravagance, were zealously perused, until
the head of Don Quixote was effectually turned by them.
Although he was thus brought into a state of real men-
tal derangement, it was limited to the extravagances
which have been mentioned. We are expressly inform-
ed, that, in all his conversations and replies, he gave evi-
dent proofs of a most excellent understanding, and never
" lost the stirrups" except on the subject of chivalry.
On this subject he " was crazed." — Accordingly, when
the barber and curate visited him on a certain occasion,
the conversation happened to turn on what are termed
reasons of state, and on modes of administration ; and
Don Quixote spoke so well on every topic, as to convince
them that he was quite sound, and had recovered the
right exercise of his judgment. But something being un-
advisedly said about the Turkish war, the knight at once
remarked, with much solemnity and seriousness^ that his
majesty had nothing to do but to issue a proclamation,
commanding all the knights-errant in Spain to assemble
at his court on a certain day ; and, although not more
than half a dozen should come, among these one would be
found who would alone be sufficient to overthrow the whole
Turkish power.
When the subject of conversation turned upon wai,
(ll.) mSANITY. 255
which had so near a connexion with shields, and lances,
and all the associations of chivalry, it came within the
range of his malady, and led to the absurd remark which
showed at once the unsoundness of his mind, notwith-
standing the sobriety and good sense which he had just
before exhibited.
^ 238. Partial mental alienation by means of the imagination.
Men of sensibility and genius, by giving way to the
suggestions of a melancholy imagination, sometimes be-
come mentally disordered. Not that we are authorized
to include these cases as among the more striking forms
of insanity ; they in general attract but little notice, al-
though sources of exquisite misery to the subjects of them.
But such are the extravagant dreams in which they in-
dulge ; such are the WTong views of the character and
actions of men, which their busy and melancholy imagi-
nations are apt to form, that they cannot be reckoned
persons of truly sound minds. These instances, which
are not rare, it is difficult fully to describe ; but their
most distinguishing traits will be recognised in the follow-
ing sketch from Madame de Stael's Reflections on the
Character and Writings of Rousseau.
After remarking that he discovered no sudden emo-
tions, but that his feelings grew upon reflection, and that
he became impassioned in consequence of his own medi-
tations, she adds as follows. — " Sometimes he would part
with you with all his former affection ; but if an expres-
sion had escaped you which might bear an unfavourable
construction, he would recollect it, examine it, exaggerate
it, perhaps dwell upon it for a month, and conclude by a
total breach with you. Hence it was that there was
scarce a possibihty of undeceiving him; for the light
which broke in upon him at once was not sufficient to
efface the wrong impressions which had taken place so
gradually in his mind. It was extremely difficult, too, to
^ontinue long on an intimate footing with him. A word,
a gesture, furnished him with Inatter of profound medita-
tion; he connected the most trifling circumstances like
so masiy mathematical propositions, and conceived his
conclusions to be supported by the evidence of demon-
stration.
256 DISORDERED INTELLECTUAL ACTION.
" I believe," she further remarks, " that imagination
was the strongest of his faculties, and that it had almost
absorbed all the rest. He dreamed rather than existed,
and the events of his life might be said more properly to
have passed in his mind than without him : a mode of
being, one should have thought, that ought to have secu-
red him from distmst, as it prevented him from observa-
tion ; but the truth was, it did not hinder him from at-
tempting to observe; it only rendered his observations er-
roneous. That his soul was tender, no one can doubt after
having read his works; but his imagination sometimes
interposed between his reason and his aifections, and de-
stroyed their influence ; he appeared sometimes void of
sensibility ; but it was because he did not perceive ob-
jects such as they were. Had he seen them with our
eyes, his heart would have been more affected than ours "
^ 239. Insanity or alienation of the power of belief.
The action of the various intellectual powers which
have been brought to view in this chapter, terminates in
the causation or production of Belief In regard to that
particular state of the intellect which is denominated be-
lief, it is obvious that, in a sound mind, it has a natural
and determinate relation to all the various intellectual
susceptibilities, both External and Internal. This relation
is sometimes disturbed ; and the belief exists in a position
altogether unsustained by the evidence which is present-
ed. There are three classes of persons in whom this state
of mind, or, in other words, the faculty or susceptibility
of belief, if we may be permitted so to call it, appears to
be disordered. — (1.) The first class are those who seem
incapable of believing anything which they are required
to receive on the testimony of others. They must see it
with their own eyes ; they must hear it, or handle it for
themselves ; they must examine it by square, rule, and
compass. They remind one of the Savage, who complain-
ed, when something was proposed for his belief, " that it
would not believe for him." The causes of this sincrular
inability are w^orthy of more inquiry than has hitheito
been expended upon them. When it is very great, it is
a mark of the approach or actual existence of idiocy. —
(ll.) INSANITY 257
(2.) There is another class of persons, who plainly show
a derangement of this, power by their readiness to be-
lieve everything. No matter how incongruous or improb-
able a story is, it is received at once. They take no note
of dates, characters, and circumstances ; and, as they find
nothing too improbable to believe, they find nothing too
strange, marvellous, and foolish to report. This state of
mind is frequently, an accompaniment of light-headed-
ness. — (3.) There are other cases, where the alienation of
belief is not general, but particular. There is nothing pe-
culiar and disordered in its ordinary action, but only in
respect to particular facts. That is, certain propositions,
which are erroneous and absurd, are received by the dis-
ordered persons as certain; and nothing can convince
them of the contrary. One believes himself to be a king ;
another, that he is the prophet Mohammed ; and various
other absurdities are received by them as undoubtedly
true. On all other subjects they appear to be rational ;
but the alienation or insanity of belief is evident as soO'»
as their cherished errors are mentioned.
Y2
%
MENTAL PHILOSOPHY.
DIVISION SECOND
THE SENSIBILITIES.
SENTIENT OR SENSITIVE STATES OF THE MINIX
SENTIMENTS.
INTRODUCTION.
CLASSIFICATION OF THE SENSIBILITIES.
^ 240. Reference to the general division of the whole mind.
It will be recollected that we proposed, as the basis of
our inquiries, the general division of the mind into the In-
tellect, the Sensibilities, and the Will. These great de-
partments of the mind are not only generically distinct;
but the difference between them is so clear and marked,
it is surprising they should have been so often confounded
together. They are not only different in their nature, a
fact which is clearly ascertained by Consciousness, in its
cognizance of their respective acts, but are separated
from each other, as all observation shows, by the relations
which they respectively sustain. The Intellect or Under-
standing comes first in order, and furnishes the basis of
action to the other great departments of the mind. It is
this portion of the mind which we have endeavoured to
examine, and which we are noAV about to leave for the
purpose of advancing into departments of our mental na-
ture, which, considered in reference to the Intellect, may
be regarded as occupying a more remote and interior po-
sition.
^ 241. The action of the sensibilities implies that of the intellect.
The action of the Sensibihties is subsequent in time to
that of the Intellective nature. As a general thing, there
"is, and can be, no movement of the sensibilities ; no such
thing as an emotion, desire, or feeling of moral obligation,
without an antecedent action of the intellect. If we are
pleased or displeased, there is necessarily before the mind
some object of pleasure or displeasure ; if we exercise the
feeling of desire, there must ^necessarily be some object
desired, which is made known to us by an action of the
intellect. So that if there were no intellect, or if the in-
tellectual powers were entirely dormant and inactive
there would be no action of the emotive part of our na
ture and of the passions.
262 iNTRODUCTlON.
And we may not only say, in general terms, that the
action of the sensibilities implies the antecedent action of
the intellect, but may even assert more specifically, (ma-
king allowance for those constitutional differences which
pervade every part of the mental structure,) that the ac-
tivity of the sensibilities will be nearly in proportion to
that of the intellect. In other words, on all subjects
which are calculated to excite any interest at all, those
who have the broadest and most satisfactory views will
be likely to feel more intensely than others ; the sensibil-
ities expanding and exerting themselves in conformity
with the expanded and energetic action of the perceptive
and cognitive powers.
() 242. Division of the sensibilities into natural or pathematic, and moral.
As we pass onward from the percipient and cognitive
nature to the distinct and more remote region of the emo-
tions and passions, it seems proper, before we enter more
minutely into the various inquiries which may be expect-
ed to present themselves, to consider whether the depart-
ment of the Sensibilities itself is not susceptible of being-
resolved into some subordinate yet important divisions.
In accordance with this suggestion, our first remark is,
that the Sensibilities, when subjected to a careful exam-
ination, will clearly be found to separate themselves into
the great divisions of the Natural or Pathematic, and the
Moral. These leading departments will be found to run,
if we may be allowed the expression, in two separate
channels, which, although they are, for the most part,
parallel with each other, are, nevertheless, essentially and
suflficiently distinct ; each being characterized by its own
attributes and by its appropriate results. Our examina-
tion of the Sensibilities will accordingly proceed upon
the basis of this division. • '
In reference to the use of the^term Pathematic, as ap-
plicable to the states of mind embraced in one of these
great divisions, it is proper to observe, that it appears to
have been formed from its Greek original, and first used
by Sir James Mackintosh. He repeatedly speaks of that
part of our nature which includes the emotions and pas-
sions, as unnamed ; and, in the progress of his discussions,
CLASSIFICATION OF THE SENSIBILITIES. 263
appears at times to be embarrassed for the want of suit-
able English words to express it. Under these circum-
stances he proposes the term in question, which, in its
etymological import, is applicable to any state of mind
which involves emotion, desire, or passion.
^ 243. The moral and natural sensibilities have different objects.
The Natural and Moral Sensibilities appear to take,
fundamentally, different views of the objects in respect to
, which they are called into exercise. The one considers
objects chiefly as they have a relation to ourselves ; the
other, as they relate to all possible existences. The one
looks at things in the aspect of their desirableness ; the
other fixes its eye on the sublime feature of their rectitude.
The one asks what is good ; the other, what is right.
Obliterate from man's constitution his Conscience,
(what may be called, if we may be allowed the expres-
sion, the moralities of his nature,) and you at once strike
from the mind one half of its motives to action ; for, in
respect to everything which is considered by us desirable
to be done, the question always recurs, is it right to be
done ? At one time, on the supposition of an entire era-
sure of the moral sensibilities, all his movements are dic-
tated by the suggestions and cravings of the appetites.
At other times, he covets knowledge, or seeks society, or
indulges in the refinements of the arts; but it will be
found in these instances, as well as when he is under the
influence of the appetites, that pleasure is still his object,
and that he is disappointed in not securing it. And even
in his higher moods of action, when raised, in some de-
gree, above the influence of the subordinate propensities,
his movements will always be based on calculations of
interest ; and although the various suggestions which in-
fluence his conduct may have an extensive range, they
will never fail to revolve within the limits of a circle, the
centre of which is himself. It is his moral nature, and that
alone, which places him beyogd the limits of this circle,
and enables him, on suitable occasions, to acf wit :i exclu-
si\ e reference to God, his fellow-men, and the universe.
264 INTRODUCTION.
^ 244, The moral sensibilities higher in rank than the naturai.
And such being the objects of these two great depart-
ments of our nature, it is not surprising that they do not
hold the same place in our estimation. There is obvi-
\aously a sort of graduation in the feelings of regard and
honour which we attach to different parts of the mind
We at once, as it were instinctively, regard some as higher
than others. We may not be able always to tell why it
is so ; but such is the fact. We never hesitate, for in-
stance, to assign a lower place to the instincts than to the
appetites ; and, on the other hand, we always allot to the
appetites, in the graduation of our regard, a place below
that of the affections. And, entirely in accordance with
this general fact, we find it to be the case, that the moral
sensibilities excite within us higher sentiments of regard ;
in other words, hold, in our estimation of them, a higher
rank than the appetites, propensities, and passions, which
constitute the leading divisions of our pathematic nature.
The moral sensibility appears to occupy, in respect to
the other great division of our sensitive nature, the posi-
tion of a consultative and judicial power; it not only
stands above it, and over it, in our estimation, but actu-
ally is so, viz., in the exercise of a higher authority ; it
keenly scrutinizes the motives of action; it compares
emotion with emotion, desire with desire ; it sits a sort of
arbitress, holding the scales of justice, and dispensing such
decisions as are requisite for the due regulation of the
empire of the passions.
^ 245. The moral sensibilities wanting in brutes.
It will, perhaps, throw additional light upon the dis-
tinction which we assert to exist in the Sensibilities, if we
call to recollection here that the natural or pathematic
sensibilities exist in brute animals essentially the same as
in man. Brute animals are susceptible of various emo-
tions. They have their instincts, appetites, propensities,
and affections, the same as human beings have, and, per-
haps, even in a higher degree. They rush with eagerness
in the pursuit of whatever is calculated to gratify their
appetites, and are deeply interested in everything that is
addressed to the natural affections. They are pleased
CLASSIFICATION OF THE SENSIBILITIES. 266
and displeased ; they have their prepossessions and aver-
sions ; they love and hate with as much vehemence, at
least, as commonly characterizes human passion.
But if we look for the other and more elevated portiop
of the sensibilities, viz., the Moral Sensibilities, it is not
there. And here, we apprehend, is the great ground of
distinction between men and the brutes. The latter, as
well as human beings, appear to understand what is good,
considered as addressed simply to the natural affections ;
but man has the higher knowledge of moral as well as
of natural good. The brute, as well as man, knows what
is desirable, considered in the light of the natural appe-
tites and passions ; but man enjoys the infinitely higher
prerogative of knowing what is worthy of pursuit, con-
sidered ui the light of moral and conscientious perceptions
§ 246. Classification of the natural sensibilities.
Beginnino*, in the examination of the interesting subject
before us, with the Natural or Pathematic sensibilities, we
shall find this portion of our sensitive nature resolving it-
self into the subordinate divisions of the Emotions and
Desires. These two elasses of mental states follow each
other in the order in which they have been named ; the
Emotions first, w^hich are exceedingly numerous and va-
rious ; and then the Desires, embracing, under the latter
term, the Appetites, Propensities, and Affections. This
is not only the order in succession or time, but it is also
the order m nature.
In other words, and stated more particularly, such is
the con^itution of the human mind, that, when we pass
from the region of the Intellect to that of the Sensibilities,
we first find ourselves (and there is no other possible po-
sidon which, in the first instances, we can occupy) in the
domain of the emotions. We are at first pleased or dis-
pleased, or have some other emotion in view of the thing,
whatever it is, which has come under the cognizance of
tlft intellect. And emotions, ia the ordinary process of
mental action, are followed by Desires. As we cannot
be pleased or displeased without some antecedent -percep-
tion or knowledge of the thing which we arc pleased or
displeased with, so we cannot de^sire to possess ov avoid
Z
266 INTRODUCTION.
anything, without having laid the foundation of such de-
sire in the existence of some antecedent emotion. And
this is not only the matter of fact which, as the mind is
actually constituted, is presented to our notice, but we
cannot well conceive how it could be otherwise. To de-
sire a thing which utterly fails to excite within us the
least emotion of pleasure, seems to be a sort of solecism
or absurdity in nature ; in other words, it seems to be im-
possible, from the nature of things, under any conceivable
circumstances. At any rate, it is not possible, as the mind
is actually constituted, whatever might have been the fact
if the mind had been constituted diiferently.
<J 247. Classification of the moral sensibilities.
. If we look at the conscientious or Moral sensibilities,
we find that they divide themselves in a manner entirely
analogous to the division which is found to exist in the
Natural. The first class of mental states which presents
itself to our notice under this general head, is that of
moral Emotions ; corresponding in the place which they
occupy in relation to the Intellect, as well as in some
other respects, to the natural emotions. The moral emo-
tions are followed by another class of moral feelings, which
may be designated as Obligatory feelings, or feelings of
moral obligation; which hold the same relation to the
moral emotions which the Desires do to the natural emo-
tions. If we had not moral emotions, (that is to say, feel-
ings of moral approval and disapproval,) it would not be
possible for us to feel under moral obligation in any case
whatever ; the latter state of the mind being obviously
dependent on the former. — It will be noticed, that in this
place we scarcely do more than simply state the fact c*^f
this subordinate classification, w^ithout entering into minute
explanations. The precise relation which the two de-
partments of our moral nature sustain to each other wijl
te more fully stated and clearly understood, when, in their
proper piaee^ they come particularly under examination
THE SENSIBILITIES.
PART FIRST.
* NATURAL OR PATHEMATIC SENSt-jILITIES.
NATURAL OR PATHEMATIC SENTIMK VTS.
CLASS FIRST.
EMOTIONS OR EMOTIVE STATES C^ THE MIND.
CHAPTER 1.
NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS..
^ 248. We have a knowledge of emotions by consciousness.
In prosecuting the examination of the Sensibilities, in
accordance with the plan which has been marked out in
the Introduction, we begin with the Emotions. It is, of
course, implied in the arrangement we have made, which
assigns them a distinct place, that this class of mental
states has a nature and characteristics of its own, in vir-
tue of which they are distinguished from all others. At
the same time, it cannot be denied that it is extremely
difficult to explain by mere words what that precise na-
ture is. We do not suppose, indeed, that any one is ig-
norant of what is meant when we have occasion to speak
of an emotion, whether it be an emotion of melancholy,
of cheerfulness, of surprise, or of some other kind. But,
whatever may be the fact as to our knowledge, it is un-
questionable that we are unable to give a verbal explana-
tion of them,^'?i themselves considered.
In this respect they are like all other states of the mind,
which are truly simple. The fact of their entire simphci-
ty necessarily renders them undefinable ; because a defi-
nition implies a separation of the thing defined into parts.
So that we are dependent for a knowledge of the interi-
or and essential nature of emotions, not upon verbal ex-
planations and definitions, which are inadequate to the
communication of such knowledge, but upon Conscious-
ness. It is a species of knowledge which the soul re-
veals to itself by its own act, directly and immediately.
While, therefore, we do not profess to define emotions, in
any proper and legitimate sense of defining, we may
commend them without impropriety to each one's inter-
nal examination. And certainly we m.iy rely upon the
intimations which consciousnesa, when properly interro-
gated, can hardly fail to disclose in this case as well as
in others
Z2
270 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS.
$ 249. The place of emotions, considered in reference to other tiientaT
acts.
Although, in attempting to give some idea of Emotions,
we are obhged, for a knowledge of them, in themselves
considered, to refer each one to his own consciousness,
we may nevertheless mention some circmnstances which
throw an indirect light on them ; and, at any rate, render
more cle?ir to our perception the relation which they sus-
tain to other mental states. The first circumstance which
we propose to inxlicate has reference to the position
which they occupy ; (of course it will be understood that
we mean their position, not in the material sense of th^
term, but in time or succession.) It will be found, on ex-
amination, to be the fact, as we have already had occa-
sion to suggest, that Emotions always occupy a place be-
tween intellections or acts of the intellect and the desires,
if they are natural emotions; and between intellections
and feelings of moral obligation, if they are moral emo-
tions. That they are subsequent to intellections, w^e be-
lieve must be abundantly clear. It is as obvious as any
axiom of geometr)^ that we cannot have any feeling, any
emotion, in respect to that, w^hatever it is, which we have
no knowledge of.
In regard to the Desires, it is true, that, like the emo-
tions, they are subsequent to the perceptive and cognitive
acts ; but it is well understood that they are not in imme-
diate proximity with them. It is perfectly obvious, that
no act of perception or of cognition in any shape can
lay the foundation for a desire, unless the object of per-
ception is pleasant to us ; in other words, unless it excites
within us pleasant emotions. For, whenever we speak
of a thing as pleasant to us, we certainly involve the
fact that we have pleasant emotions in view of it. — ^Nor,
furthermore, can any perceptive or intellectual act lay
the foundation for Obligatory feelings (that is to say, feel-
ings of moral obligation) without the intervention and
aid of moral emotions. It may be regarded as self-evi-
dent, that we never could feel under moral obligation to
do or not to do a thing, unless the thing to be done or
not to be done had first excited within us an emotion of
approval or disapproval. So that the desires, and those
NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS. 271
feelings in the moral sensibilities which correspond to
them, are based upon emotions, as really as the emotions
are based upon intellections. In the order of nature,
therefore, emotions are found in the place which has now
been alloUed them, and they are found nowhere else;
being always and necessarily posterior to a knowledge of
tlie things to which they relate ; and, on the other hand,
antecedent, by an equally strict natural necessity, to the
other states of mind which have been mentioned.
4 250. The character of emotions c^ianges so as to conform io that ot
perceptions.
It is important to impress upon the recollection, that
the order of succession, in fact and in nature, is precisely
t"hat which has been stated, viz., intellections, emotions,
and desires in the case of the natural sensibilities, and
obligatory feelings in the case of the moral sensibilities.
The two last mentioned being followed immediately, as
their natural results, by acts of the will, which terminate
and complete the entire process of mental action. But
as we must take them and examine them in their order,
we say further, in regaKl to the Emotions, which is the
topic before us at present, that the fact of their subse-
quence to intellections and of their being based upon
them is confirmed, by the circumstance of their always
changing or varying in precise accordance with the per-
ceptive or intellective acts. If it were otherwise, (that
is to say, if they had any other foundation than intellect-
ive acts) how doe^ it happen that these changes so uni
formly take place ?
We are looking, for instance, on some extended land-
scape ; but are so situated that the view of certain ob-
jects is interrupted, and, of course, the relations of the
whole are disturbed. At such a time the emotions we
have are far from being pleasant ; perhaps they are de-:
cidedly unpleasant. But as soon as our imperfect per-
utptions are corrected, as soon #s we are able to embrace
the portions which were previously thrust out of view,
and thus restore the interrupted proportions and harmony
t)f the whole scenery, our emotions change at once, and
we experience the highest pleasure. — Again, if we look
272 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS.
at a painting which has come from the hand of some
master of his art, we are distinctly conscious at first sight
of a pleasing emotion ; but we examine tt further, and
make ourselves acquainted with a number of things less
prominent than others, but still decidedly showing the
skill of the painter, Avhich escaped our first view, and we
are conscious of a distinct change in that emotion. It
becomes more decided, more full, in precise conformity
with the increased knowledge which we have obtained
of the merit which the picture actually possesses. And
it is so, if no unusual disturbing influence is interposed,
in every other case, showing not only the intimate but
proximate connexion between the emotions and the intel-
lective acts, and the dependence of the former on the
latter.
^ 251. Emotions characterized by rapidity and variety.
When we assert that the position of emotions is be-
tween intellections on the one hand, and desires and
obligations on the other, we imply, of course, that there is
a real and marked distinction between them and the lat-
ter mental states. And this distinction exists. If con-
sciousness gives us a knowledge of emotions, the same
consciousness can hardly fail to give a knowledge of the
mental states that are subsequent to them ; and the differ-
ence of knowledge, resulting from these different acts of
consciousness, involves necessarily a difference in the
things known.
(1.) Among other things, if we consult our conscious-
ness for the purpose of ascertaining the comparative na-
ture of the mental states in question, we shall undoubtedly
be led to notice that the emotions, as compared with the
others, are generally more prompt and rapid in their origin,
as well as more evanescent. They arise and depart on
the surface of the mind, swelling and sinking almost in-
stantaneously, like the small waves and ripples that play
upon the scarcely agitated surface of a summer's lake, and
which have no sooner arrested the eye of the beholder than
they are gone. The desires and feelings of obligation
not only arise subsequently and more slowly, but obvious-
ly possess a greater tenacity and inflexibility of nature
EMOTIONS OF ^EAUTT. 273
When a strong desire or a decided sentiment of duty has
once entrenched itself in the soul, it is well known that
it is comparatively difficult to dislodge it.
(2.) There is another circumstance involved in the dis-
tinction between them. The emotions have less unity in
kind ; in other w^ords, are more various. Desires and ob-
ligations, although liable, like other mental states, to be
modified by peculiar circumstances, are, in themselves
considered' always one and the same. But of emotions
we find many varieties, such as the emotions of cheerful-
ness and joy, of melancholy and sorrow, of shame, of
surprise, astonishment, and wonder. We have further-
more the emotions, differing from all others, of the ludi-
crous, the emotions of beauty and sublimity, also the mor-
al emotions of approval and disapproval, and some others.
— If the reader will bear these statements in mind, taken
in connexion with some things to be said hereafter, he
will feel less objection, than he might otherwise have felt,
to the general and subordinate classifications which we
have thought ourselves authorized to make. These di-
visions we hold to be fundamental. Th^ are necessarily
involved, as we apprehend, in a thorough and consistent
knowledge of the mind. Important points, for instance,
in the doctrine of the Will, "will be found to depend upon
distinctions which are asserted to exist in the sensibilities.
It is desirable, therefore, that the grounds of such distinc-
tions should be understood, so that they may not only be
abov« rejection, but above doubt.
CHAPTER II.
EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY.
^ ^ 252. Characteristics of emotions of beauty.
We do not profess to enter into an examination of eve-
ry possible emotion. They are so various and multiplied,
it would be difficult tcf do it ; nor would any important
Object be answered. Proceeding on the principle of se-
27 i EMOTIOr^ OF BEAUTY.
lecting those which, either in themselves, or hy reason ol
their relation to the arts and to human conduct, appear to
be most interesting and important, we shall begin Avith
emotions of Beauty. — We have already had occasion to
remark, that all emotions are undefinable. This remark
is applicable to those under consideration as well as oth-
ers. Of the emotions of beauty it will be as difficult to
give a definition, so as to make them clearer to any one's
comprehension than they already are, as to Tlefine the
simple sensations of colour, sound, or taste. We find in
them, however, these two marks or characteristics.
(1.) The emotion of beauty, in the first place, is al-
ways a pleasing one. We never give the name to one
which is painful, or to any feeling of disgust. Whenev-
er, therefore, we speak of an emotion of beauty, we im-
ply, m the use of the terms, some degree of satisfaction
or pleasure. All persons, the illiterate as well as the
scientific, use the phrase with this import. — (2.) W^e nev-
er speak of emotions of beauty, to whatever degree may
be our experience of inward satisfaction, without refer-
ring such emotipns to something external. The same
emotion, which is called satisfaction or delight of mind
when it is wholly and exclusively internal, we find to be
termed an emotion of beauty if we are able to refer it to
something without, and to spread its charms around any
external object.
^ 253. Of what is meant by beautiful objects.
There are many objects which excite the emotion of
beauty ; that is, when the objects are presented, this
emotion, in a greater or less degree, immediately exists.
These objects we call beautiful. — There are other objects
which, so far from exciting pleasant emotions within us,
are either indifferent, or cause feelings of a decidedly op-
posite* character ; so that we speak of them as- deformed
or disgusting. If there were no emotions, pleasant or un-
pleasant, excited by either of these classes, or if the emo-
tions which they cause were of the same kind, we should
apply to them the same epithets. So that the ground of
distinction, which, in speaking of -these different objects,
we never fail to make, appears to exist in our own feel-
EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 275
ings. In other words, we call an object beautiful, be-
cause it excites within us pleasant emotions, which, in the
circumstances of the case, we cannot well ascribe to any
other cause. And when we prefer to say, in other terms,
that an object has beauty, we obviously mean the same
thing, viz., that the object has a trait or quality (perhaps
we may find it difficult to explain precisely what it is)
which causes these emotions.
) 254. Of the distinction between beautiful and other objects
In view of what has been said, we may venture to
make two remarks. — (1.) Every beautiful object has
something in itself which truly discriminates it from all
other objects. This something, this peculiar trait, what-
ever it is, lays the foundation for those results in the hu-
man mind, which, on being experienced, authorize us to
speak of the object as beautiful. This is clear, not only
from what, on a careful examination, we shall frequently
find in the objects themselves, but also from the fact, that
the operations of the mind always have their appropriate
causes. If the mind experiences a pleasant emotion in
view of a certain object, it is because there is something
in the object which has a determinate and permanent re-
lation to that particular mental state which distinguishes
it from other objects. If it were not for that distinctive
trait in the object, the human mind is so constituted that
it could not have experienced the corresponding emotion.
(II.) Beautiful objects are distinguished from all others,
not only by something in themselves, certain original and
inherent traits characteristic of them, but also, and per-
haps still more, by a superadded trait, a species of bor-
rowed effulgence, derived and reflected back from the
mind itself. When we contemplate a beautiful object,
we are pleased ; we are more or less happy. We natu-
rally connect this emotion of pleasure with the object
<vhich is its cause ; and we have been in the habit of do-
»/ng this, no doubt in most instances unconsciously to our-
selves, from early life. The consequence is, the associa-
tion between the inward delight and the outward cause
becomes so strong, that we ai*e unable to separate them ;
and the objects, additional to their own proper qualities
276 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY
appear to be surrounded, and to beam out with an efi'ul*
'j^ence which comes from the mind.
^ 255. Grounds or occasions of emotions of beauty various.
The next remark which we have to make on the sub-
ject of Beauty is, that the objects by which it is occasion-
ed are not always the same, but are very various ; differ-
ing from each other not only in their general nature, but
'also in their subordinate incidents. Accordingly, w^e may
w4th propriety regard the term beauty not so much a
particular as a general or common name, expressive of
numerous emotions, which always possess the characteris-
tic of being pleasant, and are in every respect always the
same in nature, but which may difi'er from each other
both in the occasions of their origin, and also in the de-
gree or intensity in which they exist.
(I.) In regard to the occasions on w^hicb they arise, w^e
may remark more particularl}^, that emotions of beauty
are felt, and frequently in a very high de-gree, in the con-
templation of material objects that are addressed to the
sense of sight, such as woods, w^aters, cultivated fields,
and the visible firmament. We look abroad upon nature,
in the infinite variety of her w^orks, as she is exhibited in
the depths below and in the heights above, in her shells
and minerals, in her plants, and flowers, and trees, in her
waters, and her stars, and suns ; and we find the mind
kindling at the sight ; fountains of pleasure are suddenly
opened within us ; and w^e should do violence to our
mental structure if we did not pronounce them beautiful.
(II.) Again, emotions of beauty are felt in the contem-
plation of intellectual and moral objects. In other words,
mind, as well as matter, furnishes the occasion on which
they arise. Whenever we discover intelligence, wisdom,
truth, honour, magnanimity, benevolence, justice, or other
traits of a mind acting as it was created £md designed to
act, we have a foundation laid for emotions of beauty. —
The human countenance, considered merely as a materia]
object, and as presenting nothing more than outline and
colour, is undoubtedly beautiful ; but becomes more so
when it distinctly indicates to us intelligence and amia-
Wility, ^
EMOIIONS OF BEAUTY. 277
(ill.) But emotions of beauty are not exclusiv(>ly lim-
ited to these occasions. Feelings, which not only bear
the same name, but are truly analogous in kind, exist
also on the contemplation of many other things. — The
sentiment or feeling of beauty exists, for instance, when
we are following out a happy train of reasoning ; and
hence the mathematician, who certainly has a delightful
feeling analogous to what we experience in contempla-
ting many works of nature, speaks of a beautiful theorem.
— The connoisseur in music applies the term beautiful to
a favourite air ; the lover of poetry speaks of a beautiful
song ; and the painter discovers beauty in the design and
in the colouring of his pictures. We also apply the term
beauty to experiments in the different departments of
physics ; especially when the experiment is simple, and
results in deciding a point which has occasioned doubt
and dispute. We speak of it, and, as we suppose, with
a degree of propriety, as a beautiful experiment.
So that all nature, taking the word in a wide sense, is
the province of beauty ; the intellectual and the sensitive,
as well as the material world. We do not, however,
mean by this to descend into particulars, and to say that
everything which exists within the range of these depart-
ments ^s beautiful ; but merely that from none of the
great departments of nature are the elements of beauty
excluded.
<J 356. All objects not equally fitted to cause these emotions.
From what has been said, it must be evident that there
is a correspondence between the mind and the outward
objects which are addressed to it. — This has already been
clearly seen in respect to the sensations and external per-
ceptions ; and it is not less evident in respect to that part
of our nature which we are now attending to. The mind,
and the external world, and the external circumstances
of our situation, are reciprocally suited to each other.
Hence, when we ascribe the quality of beauty to any ob-
ject, we have reference to this mutual adaptation. An
object is ordinarily called beautiful when it has agreea-
ble qualities ; in other words, when it is the cause or an-
tecedent of the emotion of beauty. However it might
A. A
278 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY.
appear to other beings, it would not have the character of
beauty to us, if there were not a sort of correspondence,
an adaptedness to each other, between our mental consti-
tution and such outward object.
But no one can be ignorant that not all objects cause
the emotions in question ; and of those which possess this
power, some have it in a greater, and some in a less de-
gree. This brings us to a very important inquiry. It is
no unreasonable curiosity which wishes to know. Why
the effect is so limited, and why all objects are not em-
braced in it ? Why different objects cause the same emo-
tion in different degrees? And why the same objects
produce a diversity of emotions in different individuals,
and even in the same individual at different times ?
^ 257. A susceptibility of emotions of beauty an ultimate principle of
our mental constitution.
In answering these questions, something must be taken
for granted; there must be some starting point, other-
wise all that can be said will be involved in inextricable
confusion. That is, we must take for granted that the
mind has an original susceptibility of such emotions. Nor
can we suppose there can be any objection to a conces-
sion which is warranted by the most general experience.
We all know that we are created with this susceptibihty,
because we are all conscious of having had those emo-
tions which are attributed to it. And if we are asked
how or why it is that the susceptibility at the bottom of
these feelings exists, we can only say that such was the
will of the Being who created the mind, and that this is
one of the original or ultimate elements of our nature.
Although the mind, therefore, is originally susceptible
of emotions of beauty, as every one knows ; still it is no
less evident, from the general arrangements we behold,
both in physical and in intellectual nature, that these
emotions have their fixed causes or antecedents. We
have seen that these causes are not limited to one class
or kind, but are to be found under various circumstances ;
in the exercises of reasoning, in the fanciful creations of
poetry, in musical airs, in the expeiimenfs of physics, in
the forms of material existence, and the like. Perhaps
EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 279
we may assert, as a general statement, (that is to say, in
a great nuipber or majority of cases,) these objects cannot
be presented to the mind, and the mind be unmoved by
it ; it contemplates them, and it necessarily ha^ a feehn^
■)f delight, of a greater or less degree of strength, whicn
authorizes us in characterizing them as beautiful.
In asserting that this is correct as a general statement,
it is imphed that some objects do not originally cause
these emotions. And hence we are led to enter into more
particular inquiries, having reference to this difference, in
what may be called, in the phraseology of some recent
writers, the esthetic powder of objects. Accordingly, our
purpose, in the remarks which are to follow, is to point
out some of those objects, and forms and qualities of ob-
jects, which seem from their very nature, and in distinc-
tion from other objects which do not have this power,
fitted to create within us the feelings under consideration.
^ 258. Remarks on ibe beauty of form?. — The circle.
In making that selection of those objects and qualities
of objects w^hich we suppose to be fitted, in the original
constitution of things, to cause within us pleasing emo-
tions of themselves, independently of any extraneous aid,
we cannot profess to speak with certainty. The appeal
is to the general experience of men : and all we can do
is to give, so far as it seems to have been ascertained, the
results of that experience. Beginning, therefore, with
material objects, we are justified by general experience
in saying that certain dispositions or forms of matter are
beautiful ; for instance, the circle.
We rarely look upon a winding or serpentine form
without experiencing a feeling of pleasure ; and on see-
ing a circle, this pleasure is heightened. Hence Hogarth,
who, both by his turn of mind and by his habits of life,
has claims to be regarded as a judge, expressly lays it
down in his Analysis of Beauty, that those lines which
have most variety in themselves contribute most towards
the production of beauty; and that the most beautiful
line by which a surface can be bounded is the weaving
or serpentine, or that which constantly, but imperceptibly^
deviates from the straight line. This, which we frequent-
280 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY.
ly find in shells, flowers, and other pleasing natural pro-
ductions, he calls the line of beauty.
^ 259. Original or intrinsic beauty. — Tlie circle.
It is necessary, in examining the subject of beauty, to
look at it in two points of view, viz., as Intrinsic and as
Associated. In the remarks which we may have occa-
sion to make in this chapter, we have reference exclu-
sively to what may be denominated Original or Intrinsic
beauty ; by which we mean that which is founded in the
nature of the object, independently of accidental or merely
accessory circumstances. — Accordingly, it is this form of
beauty which we ascribe to the circle. Those objects
which are circular, or approach that form, exhibiting a
constantly varying outline, have in themselves, and on
account of this configuration, a degree, and not unfre-
quently a high degree, of beauty. The bending stem of
the tulip, the curve of the weeping willow, the windings
of the ivy, the vine wreathing itself around the elm, the
serpentine river, are highly pleasing. The vast circular
expanse of the visible sky, when seen in a cloudless night,
is a beautiful object, independently of the splendour that
is spread over it by its brilliant troops of stars. The arch
of the rainbow, expanding its immense curve over our
heads, could hardly fail to be regarded as an object of
great beauty, even if nothing but the form and outline
were presented to our vision, without the unrivalled lustre
of its colours. And the same of other instances, scattered
in profusion through the works of nature, but too numer-
ous to be mentioned here.
^ 260. Of the beauty of straight and angular forms.
Although the circular or constantly varying outline is
thought, more than any other, to excite the delightful
emotions under consideration, we are not to suppose that
the power of beauty is excluded from other forms. In
examining the works of nature, it is hardly necessary to
say that we find numerous instances of straight and an-
gular forms, as well as of the serpentine and winding,
although perhaps less fi-equently. It can hardly be doubt-
ed that these forms, as they are operated upon and
EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 281
moulded in nature's hands, possess more or less beauty.
It is almost a matter of supererogation to attempt to il-
lustrate this statement to those who have a heart and eye
open to the gre^t variety of her works, which on every
side are presented to our notice. Her forms, either origi-
nal or in their combinations, are without number ; and if
it be true that beauty does not claim a relationship with
all, it is equally so that it is not restricted to one, or even a
small portion of them. The intertwining shrubbery, which
spreads itself abroad upon the ground, emits, if we may
be allowed the expression, its sparkles and gleams of
beauty around our feet. The elm, which rises upward
towards the heavens, and forms its broad and green arch
over our heads, is radiant with beauty also, although it is
exceedingly diverse in its appearance. We readily ad-
mit, for we cannot well do otherwise without violence to
the suggestions of our nature, that the curve of the weep-
ing willow possesses beauty. But, at the same time, we
are not prepared to assert that the solitary palm-tree is
absolutely destitute of it, although it displays, as it rises
on the bosom of the desert, nothing but a tall, straight,
branchless trunk, surmounted at the top, like a Corinthian
column, by a single tuft of foliage.
" There are an infinite number of the feebler vegeta-
bles," says Mr. Alison, " and many of the common grasses,
the forms of which are altogether distinguished by angles
and straight lines, and where there is not a single curva-
ture through the whole ; yet all of which are beautiful."
He ascribes in another place a high degree of beauty to
the knotted and angular stem of the balsam. And re-
marks also, in regard to the myrtle, that it is " generally
reckoned a beautiful form, yet the growth of its stem is
perpendicular, the junctions of its branches form regular
and similar angles, and their direction is in straight or an-
gular lines."
• <§ 261. Of square, pyramiAal, and triangular forms.
The remarks of the last section, going to show that
beauty is not limited to circular forms, is confirmed by
what we observe in the works of art as well as of na-
ture. The square, for instance, although we do not sup
A a2
282 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTi
pose it presents very high claims, comes in for a share of
notice. On account of its practical convenience, and
also for the reason of its being more entirely within the
reach of human skill than some other forms, it is frequent-
ly introduced into architecture ; generally with a pleasing
effect, and sometimes with a high degree of beauty.
In the Gothic architecture, the pyramidal, a form sLill
further removed from any relationship with the circle, has
a conspicuous place, and when properly combined with
other forms, gives a decided pleasure. Hogarth, in illus-
tration of his remark, that variety has a great share in
producing beauty, explicitly observes, that the pyramid,
which gradually diminishes from its basis to its point, is
a beautiful form. And it is in consequence of being so
regarded that we find it so frequently employed, not only
as a characteristic feature in the order of architecture just
referred to, but in steeples, sepulchral monuments, and
other works of art.
Triangular forms also are not without beauty Mr.
Alison states, that the forms of Grecian and Roman fur-
niture, in their periods of cultivated taste, were "almost uni-
versally distinguished by straight or angular lines. What
is there, he inquires, more beautiful than the form of the
ancient tripod 1 " The feet gradually lessening to the
end, and converging as they approach it ; the plane of
the ta])le placed, with little ornament, nearly at right an-
gles to the feet ; and the whole appearing to form an im-
perfect triangle, whose base is above. There is scarcely
in such a subject a possibility of contriving a more angu-
lar form, yet there can be none more completely beau-
tiful."
In connexion with these statements, it is proper to add
a single explanatory remark. We have much reason to
believe that the emotion will be stronger in all casfts in
proportion as the beautiful object is distinctly and imme-
diately embraced by the mind. It may be asserted, with
undoubted good reason, that the square form has a degree
of beauty as well as the circle, although it is generally
conceded that it has less. But it is a matter of inquiry,
whether the difference in this respect is owing so much
♦ ) the original power of the forms themselves, as to the cir*
EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 283
cumstance just alluded to. In other words, whether it be
not owing to the fact, that the circle, being more simple,
makes a more direct, entire, and decided impression j
whereas the attention is divided among the sides and an-
gles of the square and other similar figures.
<5 262. Of the original or intrinsic beauty of colours.
We proceed to remark, as we advance in the further
consideration of this interesting subject, that w^e expe-
rience emotions of beauty in beholding the colours, as
well as in contemplating the outlines or forms of bodies.
The doctrine which we hold is, that some colours of
themselves, independently of the additional interest which
may subsequently be attached to them in consequence of
certain associations, are fitted to excite within us those
feelings of pleasure which authorize us in this, as well as
in other analogous cases, to speak of the cause of them
as beautiful. In other words, there are some colours
which possess, as we suppose, an original or intrinsic
beauty. — In support of this opinion, we are merely able
to allude to some of the various considerations which nat-
urally present themselves, without entering into that mi-
nute exposition of them which would be admissible in a
treatise professedly and exclusively devoted to the subject
before us.
(I.) The pleasure which results from the mere behold-
ing of colours may be observed in very early life. It is
in consequence of this pleasing emotion that the infant
so early directs its eyes towards the light that breaks in
from the window, or which reaches the sense of vision
from any other source. It is pleasing to see with what
evident ecstasy the shild rushes from flow^er to flower,
and compares their brilliancy. Casting his eyes abroad
in the pursuit of objects that are richly variegated, he
pauses to gaze with admiration on every tree that is most
Drofusely loaded with blossoms, or that is burdened with
Truit of the deepest red and ^llow. It is because he is
attracted with the brightness of its wings that he pur-
sues the butterfly with a labour so unwearied, or suspends
his sport to watch the wayward movements of the hum-
ming-bird.
284 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY
(2.) The same results are found also, very strikingly
and generally, among all savage tribes. The sons of the
forest are not so wholly untutored, so wholly. devoid of
natural sensibility, that they will not sometimes forget the
ardour of the chase in the contemplation of the flowers!
which bloom in the neighbourhood of their path. Seeing
how beautiful the fish of their lakes and rivers, the bird
of their forests, and the forest tree itself, are rendered by
colours, they commit the mistake of attempting to rendei
their own bodies more beautiful by artificial hues. They
value whatever dress they may have in proportion to the
gaudiness of its colours ; they weave rich and variegated
plumes into their hair ; and as they conjectured, from his
scarlet dress, that Columbus was the captain of the Span-
iards, so they are wont to intimate and express their own
rank and dignity by the splendour of their equipments.
(3.) And the same trait which has been so often no-
ticed in Savages, may be observed also, though in a less
degree, among the uneducated classes in civilized com-
munities. In persons of refinement, the original tenden-
cy to receive pleasing emotions from the contemplation
of colours seems to have, in a measure, lost its power, in
consequence of the developement of tendencies to receive
pleasure from other causes. In those, on the contrary,
who have possessed less advantages of mental culture,
and w^hose sources of pleasure may in consequence be
supposed to lay nearer to the surface of the mind, this
tendency remains undiminished. Coloured objects gen-
erally affect them with a high degree of pleasure ; so
much so that the absence of colour is not, in their esti-
mation, easily compensated by the presence of any other
qualities. We cannot well suppose that there is any in-
termediate influence between the beautiful object and the
mind, of which this pleasure is the product ; but must
rather conclude, in the circumstances of the case, that the
presence of the object, and that only, is the ground of JN
existence.
<J 263. Further illustrations of the original beauty of colours.
We may derive additional proof of the fact that col-
GUI'S are of themselves fitted to cause emotions of beauty
EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 285
trom what we learn in the case of those persons who
have been bUnd from birth, but in after Ufe have sud-
denly been restored by couching, or in some other way
— " I have couched," says Dr. Wardrop,* speaking of
James Mitchell, " one of his eyes successfully ; and he
is much amused with the visible world, though he mis-
trusts information gained by that avenue.. One day I got
him a new and gaudy suit of clothes, which delighted him
beyond description. It was the most interesting scene of
sensual gratification I ever beheld."
But this person, it appears, had some faint notions of
light and colours previous to the operation by which his
powers of vision were more fully restored. And the
facts, stated in connexion with his exercise of this imper-
fect vision, are equally decisive in favour of the doctrine
under consideration. The statements to which we refer
are as follows. — " At the time of life when this boy began
to walk, he seemed to be attracted by bright and dazzling
colours ; and though everything connected with his his-
tory appears to prove that he derived little information
from the organ, yet he received from it much sensual
gratification. He used to hold between his eye and lu-
minous objects such bodies as he found to increase, by
their interposition, the quantity of light ; and it was one
of his chief amusements to concentrate the sun's rays by
means of pieces of glass, transparent pebbles, or similar
substances, which he held between his eye and the light,
and turned about in various directions. These too he
would often break with his teeth, and give them that
form which seemed to please him most. There were oth-
er modes by which he was in the habit of gratifying this
fondness for light. He would retire to any outhouse or to
any room within his reach, shut the windows and doors,
and remain there for some considerable time, with his eyes
fixed on some small hole or chink which admitted the
sun's rays, eagerly watching them. He would also, du-
flng the winter nights, often re^re to a dark corner of the
room and kindle a light for his amusement. On these oc-
casions, as well as in the gratification of his other senses,
his countenance and gestures displayed a most interesting
avidity and curiosity."
* As Quoted by Mr. Stewart in his account of Mitchell
286 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY.
The conclusion which we deduce from these sources of
proof is, that colours are fitted, from our very constitu-
tion, to produce within us emotions of beauty.
<J 264, Of sounds considered as a source of beauty.
We next propose to inquire into the application of these
principles in respect to sounds. And here also we have
reason to believe that they hold good to a certain extent;
in other words, that certain sounds are pleasing of them-
selves ; and are hence, agreeably to views already ex-
pressed, termed beautiful. — In proceeding, however, to
the consideration of beauty as it exists in connexion
with sounds, it may be proper to recur to the remark
which was made near the commencement of the chapter,
that the sources or grounds of beauty, although the emo-
tions they excite within us are all of essentially the same
kind, are very various. In view of Avhat was there said,
we do not feel at liberty to doubt, as some may be dispo-
sed to do, whether there is beauty in sounds, merely be-
cause sounds are obviously altogether different from some
other objects which constitute sources of beauty, such as
colours or forms. It is not the intention of nature that
the empire of the beautiful shall be limited in this man-
ner. On the contrary, if certain sounds have something
within them, which from its very nature is calculated to
excite within us pleasing emotions, they are obviously dis-
tinguished by this circumstance from other sounds, and
furnish a sufficient reason for our regarding them and
speaking of them as beautiful.
(1.) In asserting, however, that there is an original
beauty in sounds, we do not wish to be understood as
saying that all sounds, of whatever kind, possess this
character. There are some sounds which, in themselves
considered, are justly regarded as indifferent, and others
as positively disagreeable. No one would hesitate in
pronouncing the discordant creaking of a wheel, the filing
of a saw, the braying of the ass, the scream of a peacock,
or the hissing of a serpent, to be disagreeable. There
are other sounds, such as the bleating of the lamb, the
J owing of the cow, the call of the goat, and other notes
and cries of animals, which appear to be, in themselves,
EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 2^7
entirely indifferent. We are aware thfit they are sonie-
times spoken of as beautiful ; nor is it necessary to deny
that they are sometimes heard with a high degree of
pleasure. But w^e regard the beauty in this case as rath-
er associated than intrinsic ; the result rather of acces-
sory circumstances than of the thing itself The happy
remarks of Mr.* Alison, going to show the nature of the
beauty which is ordinarily felt at such times, will be read
with interest.
" The bleating of a lamb is beautiful in a fine day in
spring ; in the depth of winter it is very far from being
so. The lowing of a cow at a distance, amid the scene-
ry of a pastoral landscape in summer, is extremely beau-
tiful ; in a farmyard it is absolutely disagree-able. The
hum of the beetle is beautiful in a fine summer evening,
as appearing to suit the stillness and repose of that pleas-
ing season : in the noon of day it is perfectly indifferent.
The twitter of the swallow is beautiful in the morning,
and seems to be expressive of the cheerfulness of that
time ; at any other hour it is quite insignificant. Even
the song of the nightingale, so wonderfully charming in
the twilight or at night, is altogether disregarded during
the day ; in so much so, that it has given rise to the
common mistake that this bird does not sing but at night "
^ 265. Illustrations of the original beauty of sounds.
(2.) Other sounds, those which are properly termed
musical, have a beauty which is original or intrinsic, and
not merely accessory. It is true that different nations
have different casts or styles of music, modified by the
situation and habits of the people ; but everything that
can properly be called music, whatever occasional or ac«
cidental modification it may assume, is in its nature more
or less beautiful. Musical sounds, independently of their
rornbinations and expression, are characterized in a way
^vhi.3h distinguishes them from all others; viz., by the
circumstance of their possessing certain mathematical
proportions in their times of vibration. Such sounds
please us originally; in other words, whenever, in all or-
dinary circumstances, they are heard, they please natural-
ly and necessarily. — We are aware that attempts have
tSS EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY.
jsometimes been made to explain the pleasure which is
received from musical sounds, as well as from those of a
ilifferent character, on the doctrine of association. But
there are various difficulties in this explanation, some of
which will now be referred to.
(1.) In the first place, we are led to expect, from the
analogy of things which we witness in other cases, that
we shall find, in the human heart also, an original sensi-
bility to the beautiful in the matter under consideration.
We refer now to what we frequently notice in the lower
animals ; and although we do not claim that very much
weight should be attached to this view of the subject, it
certainly furnishes some matter for reflection. Why
should brute animals be originally pleased with musical
sounds, and man, whom we may well suppose to have as
much need of this pleasure, be naturally destitute of the
capability of receiving it ? In regard to brute animals,
(we do not say all, but many of them,) there is no possi-
ble question as to the fact involved in this inquiry.
Through all the numberless varieties which they exhibit,
from the mouse, of which Linnaeus says with-strict truth,
" DELECTATUR MUSicA," to the elephant on the banks of the
Niger, that responds with his unwieldy dance to the rude
instrument of the untutored African, they yield their
homage to the magic of sweet sounds.' To attempt to
explain the pleasure they receive on the ground of asso-
ciation would be difficult, perhaps ridiculous. The sim-
ple fact is, that they listen and are delighted. It is the
sound, and nothing but the sound, which excites the joy
they exhibit. So great is the acknowledged power of
music over many brute animals, that the classical tradi-
tions which celebrate the achievements of the early poets
and musicians scarcely transcend the bounds of truth.
** For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews,
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands."
(2.) In the second place, children, at an eady period
of life, before they have had an opportunity of connect-
ing associations with them to any great extent, are high-
ly pleased with musical sounds. This is a fact which
EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 289
y^e cannot suppose has escaped the notice of any one.
Let a wandering musician suddenly make his appearance
in u country village, with his fife, bagpipe, or hand-or-
gan, (instruments which are not supposed to possess the
highest claims to musical power,) and it is surprising to
see with what an outburst of joy the sound is w^elcomed
to the heart of childhood. Delighted countenances clus-«
ter at the windows ; and merry groups, that just before
made the streets ring w^ith their noise, suddenly leave
their sports, and rush with a new and dehghted impulse
to the presence of the strolling minstrel. This is univer-
sally the fact ; and when we consider the early age at
which it takes place, it seems to be inconsistent with any
other view than that w^hich ascribes to sounds of a cer-
tain character an original or intrinsic attraction.
(3.) We witness, furthermore, the same result in Sav-
age tribes, when they first become acquainted with the
instruments of music, however simple or imperfect they
may be, which have been fabricated by European skill.
It is said of the native inhabitants of this country, that
they frequently purchased of the Spaniards, when they
first came to America, small bells ; and when they hunp
them on their persons, and heard their clear musical
sounds responding to the movement of their dances, they
were filled with the highest possible delight. At a latei
period in the history of the country, it is related by one
of the Jesuit missionaries, that once coming into the com-
pany of certain ignorant and fierce Indians, he met with
a rude and menacing reception, which foreboded no very
favourable termination. As it was not his design, how-
ever, to enter into any contention if it could possibly be
avoided, he immediately commenced playing on a string-
ed instrument; their feehngs were softened at once; and
the evil spirit of jealousy and anger, which they exhibited
on his first approach to them, fled from their minds."* —
We cannot suppose it necessary to multiply instances to
the same effect. •
♦ See Irving's Life and Voyages of Columbus, ch. ix. — London Quaiw
lerly Review, vol. xxvi.. p. 287.
290 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY.
^ 266. Further instances of the original beauty of sounds.
(4.) In the fourth place, deaf persons, who have V^ci
suddenly restored to the sense of hearing, and also per-
sons who, in consequence of their peculiar situation, have
never heard musical sounds till a certain period of their
life, and have therefore been unable, in either case, to
form associations with such sounds, either pleasant or im«
pleasant, have been found, on hearing them for- the first
time, to experience a high degree of pleasure. — So far as
we have been able to learn, we believe this to be the fact.
At the same time, as instances of this kind seldom occur,
and are still less frequently recorded, we do not profess to
rely upon the statement as universally true, with an entire
degree of confidence. The circumstances which are rela-
ted of Caspar Hauser, on hearing musical sounds for the
first time, are one of the few instances in point. The
statement is as follows. — ^" Not only his mind, but many
of his senses, appeared at first to be in a state of stupor,
and only gradually to open to the perception of external
objects. It was not before the lapse of several days that
he began to notice the striking of the steeple clock and
the ringing of the bells. This threw him into the great-
est astonishment, which at first was expressed only by his
listening looks and by certain spasmodic motions of his
countenance; but it was soon succeeded by a stare of
benumbed meditation. Some weeks afterward the nup-
tial procession of a peasant passed by the tower, with a
band of music, close under his window. He suddenly
stood listening, motionless as a statue ; his countenance
appeared to be transfigured, and his eyes, as it were, to
irradiate his ecstasy ; his ears and eyes seemed continu-
ally to follow the movements of the sounds as they rece-
ded more and more; and they had long ceased to be
audible, while he still continued immoveably fixed in a
listening posture, as if unwilling to lose the last vibrations
of these, to him, celestial notes, or. as if his soul had fol-
lowed them and left his body behind it in torpid insensi-
biUty."*
^ 267. The permanency of musical power dependent on its being intrinsic
On the subject of the original or intrinsic beauty of cer-
* Life of Caspar Hauser, rh. iii.
EMOtlONS OF BEAUTY. 291
tain sounds, one other remark remains to be made here.
— It will be recollected, that the dootrine which we are
opposing is, that all the power which musical sounds
have, considered as a so'Tce of beauty, is wholly resolva
ble into association. If this be true, then it seems to De
the proper business of professed composers of music to
study the nature and tendency of associations rather than
of sounds. The common supposition in this matter un
doubtedly is, that the musical composer exercises his in-
vention and taste, in addition to the general conception
or outline of his work, in forming perfect chords, varied
modulation, and accurate rythm. This is a principal, not
the only one, but a principal field of his labours; the
theatre on which his genius is especially displayed ; and
without these results of chord, modulation, and rythm, it
is certain that his efforts w411 fail to please. But if the
doctrine which we are opposing be true, would it not be
the fact, that he could bring together the most harsh and
discordant sounds, and compose, by means of them, the
great works of his art, provided he took the pains to covei
their deformity by throwing over them some fascinating
dress of association ? But we presume it will not be pre-
tended that mere association possesses this power as a
general thing, even in the hands of genius. — Furthermore,
we do not hesitate to say, that from the nature of the
case, the musical genius which composes its works for
immortality must deal chiefly with the elements and es-
sentialities of things, and not with the mere incidents and
accessories. Permanency in the works of art, of course,
implies a corresponding permanency in their foundation.
Associations are correctly understood to be, from theii
very nature, uncertain and changeable, while the beauty
of some musical compositions (we speak but the common
sentiment of mankind in saying it) is imperishable ; a fact
w^hich seems to be inconsistent with its being founded on
an unfixed and evanescent basis.
^ 268. Of motion as an element of beauty.
Motion also, a new and distinct object of contempla-
tion, has usually been reckoned a source of the beautiful,
and very justly. — A forest or a field of grain, gently waved
292 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY.
by the vnnd, affects us pleasantly. The motion of a wind-
ing river pleases ; and this, not only because the river if
serpentine, but because it is never at rest. We are de-
lighted with the motion of a ship as it cleaves the sea
under full sail. We look on as it moves like a thing of
hfe^ and are pleased without being able to control our
feehngs, or to tell why they exist. And the waves, too,
around it, which are continually approaching and depart-
ing, and curling upward in huge masses, and then break-
ing asunder into fragments of every shape, present a much
more pleasing appearance than they would if profoundly
quiet and stagnant.
With what happy enthusiasm we heboid the foaming
cascade, as it breaks out from the summit of the mountain
and dashes downward to its base ! With what pleasing
satisfaction we gaze upon a column of smoke ascending
from a cottage in a wood ; a trait in outward scenery
which landscape painters, who must certainly be account-
ed good judges of what is beautiful in the aspects of ex-
ternal nature, are exceedingly fond of introducing. It
may be said in this case, we are aware, that the pleasure
arising from beholding the ascending smoke of the cot-
tage is caused by the favourite suggestions which are
connected with it, of rural seclusion, peace, and abun-
dance. But there is much reason to beheve that the feel-
ing would be, to some extent, the same, if it were known
to ascend from the uncomfortable wigwam of the Savage,
from an. accidental conflagration, or from the fires of a
wandering horde of gipsies. — And if motion, on the lim-
ited scale on which we are accustomed to view it, be
beautiful, how great would be the ecstasy of our feelings
if we could be placed on some pinnacle of the universe,
and could take in at one glance the regular and unbroken
movement of the worlds and systems of infinite space.
^ 269. Explanation of the beauty of motion from Kaimes.
The author of the Elements of Criticism, who studied
our emotions with great care, has the following explana-
tions on this subject. — " Motion is certainly agreeable in
all its varieties of quickness and slowness ; but motion
long continued admits some exceptions. Tha+ degree of
ASSOCIATED BEAUTY. 293
continued motion which corresponds to the natural course
of our perceptions is the most agreeable. The quickest
motion is for an instant dehghtful ; but it soon appears
to be too rapid : it becomes painful by forcibly accelera-
ting the course of our perceptions. Slow, continued mo-
tion becomes disagreeable for an opposite reason, that it
retards the natural course of our perceptions.
" There are other varieties in motion, besides quickness
and slowness, that make it more or less agreeable : regular
motion is preferred before what is irregular ; witness the
motion of the planets in orbits nearly circular : the motion
of the comets in orbits less regular is less agreeable.
" Motion uniformly accelerated, resembling an ascend-
ing series of numbers, is more agreeable than when uni-
formly retarded : motion upward is agreeable by the ele-
vation of the moving body. What then shall we say of
downward motion regularly accelerated by the force of
gravity, compared with upward motion regularly retard-
ed by the same force? Which of these is the most
agreeable ? This question is not easily solved.
" Motion in a straight line is no doubt agreeable : but
we prefer undulating motion, as of waves, of a flame, of
a ship under sail : such motion is more free and also
more natural. Hence the beauty of a serpentine river "
CHAPTER III.
ASSOCIATED BEAUTY.
^ 270. Associated beauty implies an antecedent or intrinsic beauty".
The views on the subject of beauty, which we think it
important to enforce, involve the positions, first, that
there is an original or intrinsic beauty ; and second, that
fTiei'e is a beauty dependent o» association. — In opposi-
tion to those persons who may be disposed to maintain
that no object is beautiful of itself, but that all its beauty
depends on association, we wish, in this connexion, to in-
troduce what we regard as an important remark of Mr
B b2
294 ASSOCIATED BEAUTY.
Stewart. " The theory," he remarks, " which resolves
the whole effect of beautiful objects into Association, must
necessarily involve that species of paralogism, to which
logicians give the name of reasoning in a circle. It is the
province of association to impart to one thing the dis-
agreeable or the agreeable effect of another ; but associa
don can never account for the origin of a class of pleas-
ures different in kind from all the others we know. If
there was nothing originally and intrinsically pleasing or
beautiful, the associating principle would have no mate-
rials on which it could operate."*
This remark, if it be true, appears to be decisive on
the subject before us. And that it is true, we think must
appear from the very nature of association. What we
term association, it will be recollected, does not so much
express a state of the mind, a thought, a feeling, a pas-
sion, as it does a principle or law of the mind ; in other
words, the circumstance under which a new state of
mind takes place. Association, therefore, as Mr. Stewart
intimates, does not of itself originate or create anything ;
but acts in reference to what is already created or origi-
nated. Something must be given for it to act upon. If
it imparts beauty to one object, it must find it in another.
If the beauty exists in that other object in consequence
of association, it must have been drawn from some other
source still more remote. If, therefore, association merely
takes the beauty on its wings, if we may be allowed the
expression, and transfers it from place to place, there
must, of necessity, be somewhere an original or intrinsic
beauty, which is made the subject of such transfer.
^ 271. Objects may become beautiful by association merely.
In accordance with what has thus far been said on this
whole subject, it will be kept in mind, that some of the
forms, of which matter is susceptible, are pleasing of
themselves and originally ; also that we are unable to be-
hold certain colours, and to listen to certain sounds, and
gaze upon particular expressions of the countenance, and
to contemplate high intellectual and moral excellence,
without emotions in a greater or less degree delightful <
* Essay on the Beautiful, chapter vi.
ASSOCIATED BEAUTY. 296
At the same time, it must be admitted, that in the course
of our experience we find a variety of objects, that seem,
as they are presented to us, to be unattended with any
emotion whatever ; objects that are perfectly indifferent.
And yet these objects, however wanting in beauty to the
great mass of men, are found to be invested in the minds
of some with a charm, allowedly not their own. These
objects, which previously excited no feelings of beauty,
may become beautiful to us in consequence of the asso-
ciations which we attach to them. That is to say, when
the objects are beheld, certain former pleasing feelings
peculiar to ourselves are recalled.
The lustre of a spring morning, the radiance of a sum-
mer evening, may of themselves excite in us a pleasing
emotion ; but as our busy imagination, taking advantage
of the images of delight which are before us, is ever at
work and constantly forming new images, there is, in com-
bination with the original emotion of beauty, a superad-
ded delight. And if, in these instances, only a part of
the beauty is to be ascribed to association, there are some
others where the whole is to be considered as derived
from that source.
Numerous instances can be given of the power of as-
sociation, not only in heightening the actual charms of
objects, but in spreading a sort of delegated lustre around
those that were entirely uninteresting before. Why does
yon decaying house appear beautiful to me, which is
mdifferent to another 1 Why are the desolate fields
around it clothed with delight, while others see in them
nothing that is pleasant ? It is because that house form-
erly detained me as one of its inmates at its fireside, and
those fields were the scenes of many youthful sports.
When I now behold them after so long a time, the joyous
emotions which the remembrance of my early days calls
up within me, are, by the power of association, thrown
around the objects which are the cause of the remem-
<Brances. «
^ 272. Further illustrations of associated feelings.
He who travels through a well-cultivated country town,
cannot but be pleased with the various objects which he
296 ASSOCIATED BEAUTY.
beholds ; the neat and comfortable dwellings ; the mead-
ows, that are peopled with (locks and with herds of cat-
tle ; the ivAds of grain, intermingled with reaches of thick
aiKl dark ibiest. The whole scene is a beautiful one ; the
emotion we suppose to be partly original ; a personi, on
being restored to sight by couching for the cataract, and
havinor had no opportunity to form associations with it,
would witness it for the tirst time with delight. But a
considerable part of the pleasure is owing to the associa-
ted feelings which arise on beholding such a scene ; these
dwellings are the abode of man; these fields are the
place of his labours, and amply reward him for his toil ;
here are contentment, the interchange of heartfelt joys,
and " ancient truth."
Those who have ti*avelled over places that have been
signalized by memorable events, will not be hkely to sus-
pect us of attributing too great a share of our emotions
to association. It is true, that, in a country so new as
America, we are unable to point so frequently as a Eu-
ropean might do to places that have witnessed achieve-
ments and sufferings of such a character as to become
sacred in a nation's memory. But there are some such
consecrated spots. With whatever emotion or want of
emotion the traveller may pass by other places of our
wild and stormy coast, he would do violence to the finest
impulses of the heart if he did not stop at the Rock of
Plymouth, the landing-place of the Pilgrim Fathers.
Not because there is anything in the scenery, either of the
ocean or the land, which presents claims upon him more
imperative, or so much so as that of some other places.
But there is a moral power, the spirit of great achieve-
ments hovering around the spot, (explainable on the prin-
ciples of association and on them alone,) which spreads
itself over the hard features of the soil, and illuminates
the bleakness of the sky, and harmonizes what would be
otherwise rugged and forbidding into a scene of touching
loveliness and beauty.
The powerful feeling which exists on visiting such a
gpot, whether we call it an emotion of beauty or sublimi-
ty, or give it a name expressive of some intermediate
grade, is essentially the same with that which is caused in
ASSOCIATED BEAUTY. 297
the bosom of the traveller when he looks for the first
time upon the hills of the city of Rome. There are other
cities of greater extent, and washed by nobler rivers, than
the one which is before him ; but upon no others has he
ever gazed with such intensity of feeling. He beholds
what was once the mistress of the world ; he looks upon
the ancient dwelling-place of Brutus, of Cicero, and of the
C;jesars. The imagination is at once peopled with what-
ever was noble in the character and remarkable in the
achievements of that extraordinary nation ; and there is
a strength, a fulness of emotion, which would never have
been experienced without the accession of those great -and
exciting remembrances. — It is in connexion with the prin-
ciples of this chapter, and in allusion to places of histori-
cal renown, that Rogers, in his Pleasures of Memory, ha&
said, with equal philosophical truth and poetical skill :
*' And hence the charms historic scenes impart ;
Hence Tiber awes, and Avon melts the heart ;
Aerial forms in Tempe's classic vale,
Glance through the gloom, and whisper in the gale ;
In wild Vaucluse with love and Laura dwell,
V And watch and weep in Eloisa's cell."
^ 273. Instances of national associations.
The influence of association in rousing up and in giv-
ing strength to particular classes of emotions, may be stri-
kingly seen in some national instances. — Every country
has its favourite tunes. These excite a much stronger
feeling in the native inhabitants than in strangers. The
effect on the Swiss soldiers of the Ranz des Vaches, their
national air, whenever they happen to hear it in foreign
lands, has often been mentioned. So great was this ef-
fect, that it was found necessary in France to forbid its
being played in the Swiss corps in the employment of the
French government. The powerful effect of this song
cannot be supposed to be owing to any peculiar merits in
the composition ; but to the pleasing recollections which
i^ ever vividly brings up to tl^ minds of the Swiss, of
mountan life, of freedom, and of domestic pleasures.
The English have a popular tune called Belleisle
March. Its popularity is^aid to have been owing to the
circumstance that it was played when the English army
298 ASSOCIATED BEAUTY.
marched into Belleisle, an<l to its consequent association
with remembrances of war and of conquest. And it will
be found true of all national airs, that they have a charm
for the natives of the country, in co._^qi.ence of the rec-
ollections connected with them, which they do not pos-
sess for the inhabitants of other countries.
We have abundant illustrations of the same fact in re-
spect to colours. The purple colour has acquired an ex-
pression or character of dignity, in consequence of having
been the common colour of the dress of kings ; among
the Chinese, however, yellow is the most dignified colour,
and -evidently for no other reason than "because yellow is
that which is allotted te the royal family. In many coun-
tries, black is expressive of gravity, and is used particu-
larly in seasons of distress and mourning ; and white is
a cheerful colour. But among the Chinese white is gloo-
my, because it is the dress of mourners ; and in Spain
and among the Venetians black has a cheerful expression,
in consequence of being worn by the great.
Many other illustrations to the same purpose might be
brought forward. The eifect of association is not unfre->
quently such as to suppress and entirely throw out the ori-
ginal character of an object, and to substitute a new one
in its stead. Who has not felt, both in man and woman,
that a single crime, that even one unhappy deed of mean-
ness or dishonour, is capable of throwing a darkness and
distortion over the charms of the most perfect form ? The
glory seems to have departed ; and no effort of reasoning
or of imagination can fully restore it.
^ 274. The sources of associated beauty coincident with those of human
happiness.
It would be a pleasing task to point out more particu-
jarly some of the sources of associated beauty, if it were
consistent with the plan which we propose to follow. But
it has been our object throughout to give the sketch oi out-
line of a system, rather than indulge in minuteness of spe-
cification. And as to the subject which w^e now allulde
to, it could hardly be expected that Me should attempt
to explain it extensively, much less exhaust it, when we
consider that the sources of associated beauty are as wide
and as numerous as the sources of man's happiness.
ASSOCIATED BEAUTY. 299
The fountains of human pleasure, connected with the
senses, the intellect, the morals, and the social and reli-
gious relations, are exceedingly multiplied. And when-
ever the happiness we experience, from whatever source
it may proceed, is brought into intimacy with a beautiful
object, we generally find that the beauty of the object is
heightened by that circumstance. In other cases, the as-
sociation is so strong, that a beauty is shed upon objects
which are confessedly destitute of it in themselves. — It is
enough, therefore, to say, that the sources of associated
beauty are necessarily as wide as the unexplored domain
of human joy.
ij 275. Summary of views in regard to the beautiful.
As the subject of emotions of beauty is one of no small
difficulty, it may be of advantage to give here a brief
summary of some of the prominent views in respect to it.
(1.) Of emotions of beauty it is difficult to give a def-
inition, but we notice in them two marks or characteris-
tics. — ^They imply, first, a degree of pleasure, and sec-
ondly, are always referred by us to external objects as
their cause.
(2.) Every beautiful object has something in itself,
which discriminates it from other objects that are not
beautiful. On this ground we may with propriety speak
of beauty in the object. At the same time, a superadded
lustre is reflected back upon it from the mind ; and this
too, whether the beauty be original or associated.
(3.) The feeling which we term an emotion of beauty
is not limited to natural scenery, but may be caused also
by the works of art, by the creations of the imagination,
and by the various forms of intellectual and moral nature,
so far as they can be presented to the mind. All these
various objects and others may excite within us feelings
of pleasure, and the mind, in its turn, may reflect bark
upon the objects the lustre of its own emotions, and thus
increase the degree of their beauty.
(4.) There is in the mind an original susceptibility of
emotions in general, and of those of beauty in particular;
and not only this, some objects are found in the constitu-
tion of things to be followed by these feelings of beauty.
300 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY.
while others are not ; and such objects are spoken ot as
being originally beautiful. That is, when the object is
presented to the mind, it is of itself followed by emotions
of beauty, without being aided by the influence of acces-
sory and contingent circumstances.
(5.) Without pretending to certainty in fixing upon
those objects, to which what is termed original or intrinsic
beauty may be ascribed, there appears to be no small rea-
son in attributing it to certain forms, to sounds of a par-
ticular character, to bright colours, to some varieties of
motion, and, we may add, to intellectual and moral excel-
lence, whenever it can be made a distinct object of per
ception.
(6.) Many objects, which cannot be considered beauti-
ful of themselves, become such by being associated with
a variety of former pleasing and enlivening recollections ;
and such as possess beauty of themselves may augment
the pleasing emotions from the same cause. Also much
of the difference of opinion which exists as to what ob-
jects are beautiful and what are not, is to be ascribed to
difference of association. — These are some of the prom-
inent views resulting from inquiries into this subject.
CHAPTER IV.
EMOTIONS OF SUBLMITY.
^ 276. Connexion between beauty and sublimity.
Those emotions which, by way of distinction, we desig-
nate as SUBLIME, are a class of feelings which have much
in common with emotions of beauty ; they do not appear
to differ so much in nature or kind as in degree. When
we examine the feelings which are embraced under these
two designations, we readily perceive that they have a
progression ; that there are numerous degrees in point of
intensity ; but the emotion, although more vivid in one
case than the other, and mingled with some foreign ele-
ments, is, for the most part, essentially the same. So that
EMOTIONS OF SUBUMITY. oOl
It is by no means impossible to trace, in a multitude of
cases, a connexion even between the fainter f(;elings of
beauty and the most overwhelming emotions of the sub-
lime.
This progression of our feelings, from one that is geni'e
and pleasant to one that is powerful, and even painful,
has been illustrated in the case of a person who is suppo-
sed to behold a river at its first rise in the mountains, and
to follow it as it winds and enlarges in the subjacent
plains, and to behold it at last losing itself in the expanse
of the ocean. For a time, the feelings which are excited
within him, as he gazes on the prospect, are what are
teimed emotions of beauty. As the small stream which
had hitherto played in the uplands, and amid foliage that
almost hid it from his view, increases its waters, separates
its banks to a great distance from each other, and becomes
the majestic river, his feelings are of a more powerful
kind. We often, by way of distinction, speak of the feel-
ings existing under such circumstances as emotions of
grandeur. . At last it expands and disappears in the im-
mensity of the ocean : the vast illimitable world of bil-
lows flashes in his sight. Then the emotion, widening
and strengthening with the magnitude and energy of the
objects which accompany it, becomes sublime. — Emotions
of sublimity, therefore, chiefly differ, at least in most in-
stances, from those of beauty in being more vivid.
<J 277. The occasions of the emotions of sublimity various.
As the emotions of sublimity are simple, they are con-
sequently undefinable. Nevertheless, as they are the di-
rect subjects of our consciousness, we cannot be supposed
to be ignorant of their nature. It may aid, however, in
rendering our comprehension of them more distinct and
clear in some respects, if we mention some of the occa-
sions on which they arise. — But, before proceeding to do
this, it is proper to recur a moment to a subject more fully
insisted on in the chapter onJ^eauty,but which also prop-
erly has a place here. We have reference to the unques-
tionable fact, that the occasions of sublime emotions are
not exclusively one ; in other words, are not found in a
single element merely, as some persons may be likely to
Cc
302 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY.
suppose, but, like tfiose of beauty, are multiplied and va-
rious. The measure of the subhmity of the objeiit is the
character of the emotion which it excites ; and if the sub-
lime emotion exists, as unquestionably it does on various
occasions, this of itself is decisive as to the remark which
has been made. Accordingly, the proper object before
us, in the first instance, seems to be to indicate some of
these occasions.
§ 278. Great extent or expansion an occasion of sublimity
In endeavouring to point out some of the sources of
sublimity, our first remark is, that the emotion of the sub-
lime may arise in view of an object which is character-
ized by vast extent or expansion ; in other words, by the
attribute of mere horizontal amplitude. Accordingly, it
is with entire propriety that Mr. Stewart makes a remark
to this effect, that a Scotchman,- who had never witnessed
anything of the kind before, would experience an emotion
approaching to sublimity on beholding, for the first time,
the vast plains of Salisbury and Yorkshire in England.
Washington Irving also, in a passage of the Alhambra,
has a remark to the same purport. " There is something,"
he observes, " in the sternly simple features of the Span-
ish landscape, that impresses on the soul a feeling of
sublimity. The immense plains of the Castiles and La
Mancha) extending as far as the eye can reach, derive an
interest from their very nakedness and immensity, and
have something of the solemn grandeur of the ocean."
In regard to the ocean, one of the most sublime objects
which the human mind can contemplate, it cannot be
doubted that one element of its sublimity is the unlimited
expanse which it presents.
() 279. Great height an element or occasion of sublimity.
Mere height, independently of considerations of expan-
sion or extent, appears also to constitute an occasion of
the sublime. Every one has experienced this, when
standing at the base of a very steep and lofty cliff, hill,
or mountain. When, in the silence of night, we stand
under the clear, open sky, we can hardly fail, as we look
upward, to experience a sublime emotion, occasioned
EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 303
partly by the immensity of the object, but also in part by
its vast height. Travellers have often spoken of the sub-
lime emotion occasioned by viewing the celebrated Nat-
ural Bridge in Virginia from the bottom of the deep ra-
vine over which it is thrown. This bridge is a single
solid rock, about sixty feet broad, ninety feet long, and
forty thick. It is suspended over the head of the specta-
tor, who views it from the bottom of the narrow glen, at
the elevation of two hundred and thirty feet ; an immense
height for such an object. It is not in human nature to
behold, without strong feeling, such a vast vault of solid
limestone, springing lightly into the blue upper air, and
remaining thus outstretched, as if it were the arm of the
Almighty himself, silent, unchangeable, eternal.
" 4 280. Of depth in connexion with the sublime.
It is a circumstance confirmatory of the view, that it is
impossible to resolve the grounds of sublimity into a sin-
gle occasion or element, that we find the depth as well as
the height of things, the downward as well as the upward,
the antecedent and cause of this emotion. We are doubt-
ful, however, wliether depth is so decisively, as it is cer-
tainly not so frequently a cause, as elevation or height ;
which last, on account of its frequent connexion w4th their
existence, has given the name to this class of feelings
But others may think differently. Mr. Burke has the fol-
lowing passage on this point. — " I am apt to imagine, that
height is less grand than depth ; and that we are more
struck at looking down from a precipice than looking up
at an object of equal height ; but of that I am not very
positive."
But, however this may be, there is no doubt that sub-
lime emotions may arise from this cause. When we are
placed on the summit of any high object, and look down-
ward into the vast opening below, it is impt)ssible not to
be strongly affected. The sailor on the wide ocean, when,
in the solitary watches of tlj^ night, he casts his eye up-
ward to the lofty, illuminated sky, has a sublime emotion ;
and he feels the same strong sentiment stirring within
him when, a moment afterward, he thinks of the vast, un-
fathomable abyss beneath him, over which he is suspended
by the frail plank of his vessel
304 EMJTIONS OF .SUBLIMITY.
1^ 281. Of colours in connexion with the sublime.
The colours also, as well as the form of bodies, raay,
to a liinited extent, furnish the occasion of sublime emo-
tions. The lightning, when at a distance it is seen dart
mg to the earth in one continuous chain of overpowering
brightness ; the red meteor shooting athwart the stilly
dark sky ; the crimson Aurora Borealis, which occasion-
ally ditiiises the tints of the morning over the hemisphere
of midnight, are sublime objects; and, although there are
other elements which unite in forming the basis of the
sublime emotion, it is probably to be ascribed, in part, t-"^
the richness and vividness of colours. What object is
more sublimely impressive than the contrasted hues of the
mingling fires and smoke of a burning volcano ? Dark-
ness, particularly, is an element of the sublime. When
the clouds are collecting together on some distinct and
distant portion of the sky, how intently the eye fixes itself
on those masses which wear the visage of the deepest
gloom ! Forests, and frQwning cliffs, and mountains, and
the wide ocean itself, and whatever other objects are sus-
ceptible of sublimity, are rendered still more sublime by^
the shades and darkness that are sometimes made to pass
over them. The poets of all countries have represented
the Deity, the most sublime object of contemplation, as
enthroned in the midst of darkness. — " He bowed the
heavens also, and came down ; and darkness was under
his feet. He made darkness his secret place ; his pavil-
ion round about were dark waters, and thick clouds of the
skies."
i) 282. Of sounds as furnishing an occasion of suonme emotions.
We find another element of the sublime in sounds of a
certain description. There are some cries and voices of
animals which are usually regarded as sublime. The roai
of the lion, not only in the solitudes of his native deserts,
but at all times, partakes of the character of sublimity.
The human voice, in combination with a suitable number
of other voices, is capable of uttering sublime sounds ;
and does, in fact, utter them in performing many of the
works of the great masters and composers of music
There is no small degree of sublimity in the low, detf
♦amotions of sublimity. 305
imirmur of the organ, independently of the moral and re-
ligious associations connected with it. It is presumed no
one will doubt, that the trumpet, in the hands of a skilful
performer, is capable of originating sublime sounds. Al-
most every one must have noticed a peculiarly impressive
sound sent forth by a larg« and compact forest of pines,
when waved by a heavy wind, which obviously has the
same character. The heavy and interminable sound of the
ocean, as i+ breaks upon the shore, is sublime ; and hardly
less so the ceaseless voice of the congregated waters of
some vast cataract. To these instances may be added
the sound of a cannon', not only when it comes from the
'field of battle, but at any time ; and still more the
mighty voice of thunder. The latter sound is often men-
tioned in the Scriptures, in connexion with the attributes
of the Supreme Being, and apparently for the purpose
of heightening the idea of his sublimity. " The Lord
also thundered in the heavens, and the Highest gave his
voice." — " The voice of the Lord is upon the waters ; the
God of glory thundereth."
We leave this part of the subject with introducing a
remark from Coleridge, which goes to confirm the general
doctrine of the sublimity of some sounds. He had been
saying something of the scenery of the lake of Ratze-
burg, when he adds : " About a month ago, before the
thaw came on, there was a storm of wind. During the
whole night, such were the thunders and bowlings of the
breaking ice, that they left a conviction on my mind that
there are sounds more sublime than any sight can be, more
absolutely suspending the power of comparison, and more
utterly absorbing the mind's self-consciousness in its total
attention to the object working upon it."*
-^ 283. Of motion in connexion with the sublime.
It will be noticed, from the train of thought which has
been pursued, that there is a close analogy between beau-
•ty and sublimity, not only in Jfie feelings which are origi-
nated, but also in the occasions of their origin. As the
sentiments of beauty were found to be connected not
only with the forms of objects, but also with colours and
* The Friend, Am. ed., page 323.
Cc2
306 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY.*
sounds^ so also are those of sublimity. And further-
more, as we found beauty connecting itself with certain
kinds of motion, we find motion the basis likewise, in
some of its modifications, of emotions of the sublime.
We often experience, for instance, emotions of sublim-
ity in witnessing objects that move with great swiftness.
This is one source of the feelings we have at beholding
bodies of water rushing violently down a cataract. For
the same reason, although there are undoubtedly other el-
ements of the emotions we feel, the hurricane, that hastens
onward with irresistible velocity, and lays waste whatev-
er it meets, is sublime. And here also we find a cause of
part of that sublime emotion which men have often felt,
on seeing at a distance the electric fluid darting from the
cloud to the earth, and at witnessing the sudden flight
of a meteor.
^ 284. Indications of power accompanied by emotions of the sublime.
The contemplation of mental objects, as well as of ma-
terial, may be attended with this species of emotion.
Power, for instance, is an attribute of mind, and not of
natter, and the exhibition of it is frequently subKme. It
IS hardly necessary to say, in making this remark, that
power is not anything which is addressed directly to the
outward senses ; but is rather presented to the mind as an
object of inward suggestion. Nevertheless, the causes of
this suggestion may exist in outward objects ; and, when-
ever this is the case, the feelings with which we contem-
plate such objects are generally increased. In other
words, whatever sublimity may characterize an object, if,
in addition to its other sublime traits, it strongly suggests
to us the idea of power, the sublime feeling is more or less
heightened by this suggestion.
Nothing can be more sublime than a volcano, throwing
out from its bosom clouds, and burning stones, and im-
mense rivers of lava. And it is unquestionable, that the
sublime emotion is attributable, in part, to the over-
whelming indications of power which are thus given.
An earthquake is sublime ; not only in its mightier efforts
of destruction, but hardly less so in those slighter trem-
blings and heavings of the earth, which indicate the foot-
EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 307
steps of power rather than of ruin. The ocean, greatly
agitated with a storm, and tossing the largest navies as
if in sport, possesses an increase of sublimity, on account
of the more striking indications of power which it at
such a time gives. The shock of large armies also, which
concentrates the most terrible exhibition of human ener-
gy, is attended with an increased sublimity for the same
reason. But in all these instances, as in most others, the
sublime emotion cannot be ascribed solely to one cause ;
something is to be attributed to vast extent ; something
to the original effect of the brilliancy or darkness of col-
ours ; and something to feelings of dread and danger.
^ 285. Of the original or primary sublimity of objects.
If there be a connexion between the beautiful and
sublime; if beauty, grandeur, and sublimity are only
names for various emotions, not so much differing in kind
as in degree, essentially the same views which were ad-
vanced in respect to beauty will hold here. It will fol-
low, if the contemplation of some objects is attended .
with emotions of beauty, independently of associated feel-
ings ; or, in other words, if they have a primary or origi-
nal beauty, that there are objects also originally sublime.
Hence we may conclude, that whatever has great height;
or great depth, or vast extent, or other attributes of the
sublime, will be able to excite in us emotions of sublimi-
ty of themselves, independently of the subordinate or
secondary aid arising from any connnected feelings.
4 286. Considerations in proof of the original sublimity of objects.
It may be inferred, that there is such primary or origi-
nal sublimity in some objects, not only in view of the
cormexion which has been stated to exist betw^een the
beautiful and sublime, but because it is no doubt agreea-
ble to the common experience of men. But, in resting
tlie proposition (where undoubtedly it ought to rest) on
experience, we must inquire^ as in former chapters, into
the feelings of the young. And this for the obvious rea-
son, that, when persons are somewhat advanced in age,
it is difficult to separate the primary from the secondary
or associated sublimity. They have then become inex-
308 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY.
tricably mingled together. — ^Now take a child, and placf
him sii(\denly on the shore>s of the ocean, or in full sigh\
of darkly wooded mountains of great altitude, or before
the clouds, and fires, and thunders of volcanoes ; and, in
most cases, he will be filled with sublime emotions ; his
mind will swell at the perception ; it will heave to and
fj-o like the ocean itself in a tempest. His eye, his coun-
tenance, his gestures, will indicate a power of internal
feeling, which the limited language he can command is
unable to express. This may well be stated as a fact,
because it has been frequently noticed by those who are
competent to observe.
Again, if a person can succeed in conveying to a child,
by means of words, subUme ideas of whatever kind, sim-
ilar emotions will be found to exist, although generally
in a less degree than when objects are directly presented
to the senses.
There is an incident in the life of Sir William Jones
which will serve to illustrate this statement. " In his fifth
year, as he was one morning turning over the leaves of a
Bible in his mother's closet, his attention was forcibly ar-
rested by the sublime description of the angel in the tenth
chapter of the Apocalypse ; and the impression which his
imagination received from it was never effaced. At a
period of mature judgment, he considered the passage as
equal in sublimity to any in the inspired writers, and far
superior to any that could be produced from mere human
compositions ; and he was fond of retracing and men-
tioning the rapture which he felt when he first read it."
The passage referred to is as follows. " And I saw
another mighty angel come down from heaven, clothed
with a cloud ; and a rainbow was upon his head, and his
face was as it were the sun, and his feet as pillars of
fire."*
^ 287. Influence of association on emotions of sublimity.
Granting, therefore, that sublime emotions are in part
original, still it is unquestionably true that a considerable
share of them is to be attributed to association. As an
illustration,we may refer to the effects of sounds. Wheo
* Teignmouth's Life of Sir William Jones, Am. ed., page 14.
EMOTIONS OF THE LUDICROUS. 309
f sound suggests ideas of danger, as- the report of artille-
ry and the howling of a storm ; when it calls up recol-
lections of mighty power, as the fall of a cataract and
the rumbling of an earthquake, the emotion of subhmity
which w^e feel is greatly increased by such suggestions.
Few simple sounds are thought to have more of sublimi-
ty than the report of a cannon ; but how different, how
much greater the strength of feehng than on other occa-
sions, whenever we hear it coming to us from the fields of
actual conflict ! Many sounds, which are in themselves
inconsiderable, and are not much different from many oth-
ers to w^hich we do not attach the character of sublimity,
become highly sublime by association. There is frequent
ly a low, feeble sound preceding the coming of a storm,
which has this character.
"Along the woods, along the moorish fens,
Sighs the sad genius of the coming storm,
Resounding long in fancy's listening ear."
Thompson's Winter.
It is sometimes the case, that people, whose sensibilities
are much alive to thunder, mistake for it some common
sounds, such as the noise of a carriage or the rumbling
of a cart. While they are under this mistake they feel
these sounds as sublime ; because they associate with
them all those ideas of danger and of mighty power
which they customarily associate with thunder. The hoot
of the owl at midnight is sublime chiefly by association ;
also the scream of the eagle, heard amid rocks and des-
erts. The latter is particularly expressive of fierce and
lonely independence; and both are connected in our
r<»membrance w^ith some striking poetical passages.
CHAPTER V.
^ EMOTIONS OF THE LUDICROUS.
(j 288. General nature of emotions of the ludicrous.
In prosecuting the general subject of emotions, we ait
next to consider another well-known class, which are of
310 EMOTIONS OF THE LUDICROUS.
a character somewhat peculiar, viz., f motions of the lialt'
crous.
It is diificult to give a precise definition of this feeding,
although the same may be said of it as in respect to emo-
tions oi beauty, that it is a pleasant or dehghtful one.
But the pleasure which we experience receives a peculiar
modification, and one which cannot be fully conveyed in
words, in consequence of our perception of some incon-
gruity in the person or thing which is the cause of it. —
In this case, as in many other inquiries in mental philoso-
phy, we are obliged to rely chiefly on our own conscious-
ness and our knowledge of what takes place in ourselves.
^ 289. Occasions of emotions of the ludicrous.
It may, however, assist us in the better understanding
of them, if we say something of the occasions on which
the emotions of the ludicrous are generally found to arise.
And, among other things, it is exceedingly clear, that this
feeling is never experienced, except when we notice
something, either in thoughts, or in outward objects and
actions, which is unexpected and uncommon. That is to
say, whenever this emotion is felt, there is always an un-
expected discovery by ife of some new relations. — But
then it must be observed, that the feeling in question does
not necessarily exist in consequence of the discovery of
such new relations merely. Something more is necessary,
as may be very readily seen.
Thus we are sometimes, in the physical sciences, pre-
sented with unexpected and novel combinations of the
properties and qualities of bodies. But whenever we
discover in those sciences relations in objects, which
were not only unknown, but unsuspected, we find no emo-
tion of ludicrousness, although we are very pleasantly
Gurprised. Again, similes, metaphors, and other like fig-
ures of speech imply in general some new and unexpect-
ed relations of ideas. It is this trait in them which gives
them their chief force. But when employed in serious
compositions, they are of a character far from being ludi-
crous.
Hence we infer, that emotions of ludicrousness do not
exist on the discovery of new and unexpected relations,
EMOTIONS OF THE LUDICROUS. 311
unless there is at the same time a perception, or supposed
perception, of some incongruity or unsuitableness. Such
perception of unsuitableness may be expected to give to
the whole emotion a new and specific character, which
every one is acquainted with from his own experience,
"but which, as before intimated, it is difficult to express in
words.
^ 290. Of what is understood by wit.
The subject of emotions of the ludicrous is closdy con*
nected with what is termed Wit. This last-named sub-
ject, therefore, which it is of some importance to under-
stand, naturally proposes itself for consideration in this
place. In regard to wit, as the term is generally under-
stood at the present time, there is ground to apprehend,
fhat an emotion of the ludicrous is always, in a greater
or less degree, experienced in every instance of it.
This being the case, we are led to give this definition,
viz. : Wit consists in suddenly presenting to the mind an
assemblage of related ideas of such a kind as to occasion
feelings of the ludicrous. — This is done in a variety of
ways ; and, among others, in the two following.
<J 291. Of wit as it consists in burlesqiie or in debasing objects
The first method which wit employs in exciting the
feelings of the ludicrous, is by debasing those things
which are grand and imposing ; especially those w^hich
have an appearance of greater weight, and- gravity, and
splendour than they are truly entitled to. Descriptions
of this sort are termed burlesque.
An attempt to lessen w^hat is truly and confessedly se-
rious and important, has, in general, an unpleasant effect,
very different from that which is caused by true wit. And
yet it is the case, that objects and actions truly great and
sublime may sometimes be so coupled w^ith other objects,
or be represented in such new circumstances, as to excite
► very different feehngs from \^^hat they would otherwise.
In the practice of burlesque, as on all other occasions
of wit, there is a sudden and uncommon assemblage of
related ideas. Sometimes this assemblage is made by
means of a formal comparison. Take, as an instance, the
folio winp^ comparison from Hudibras:
312 EMOTIONS OF THE LUDICROUS,
" And now had Phoebus in the lap
Of I'hetis taken out his nayy ;
And, like a lobster boiled, the morn
From black to red began to turn."
We find illustrations of burlesque also in those instan-
ces where objects of real dignity and importance are
coupled with things mean and contemptible, although
there is no direct and formal comparison made. As in
this instance from the above-mentioned book :
" For when the restless Greeks sat down
So many years before Troy-town,
And were renowned, as Homer writes,
For well-soled boots no less than fights."
In these instances we have related ideas. In the first,
there is undoubtedly an analogy between a lobster and
the morning, in the particular of its turning from dark to
red. But however real it may be, it strikes every one as
a singular and unexpected resemblance. In the other
passage, it is not clear that Butler has done anything
more than Homer, in associating the renown of the Greeks
with their boots as well as their valour. But to us of the
present day the connexion of ideas is hardly less uncom-
mon and singular, not to say incongruous, than in the
former.
<J 292. Of wit when employed in aggrandizing objects.
The second method which wit employs in exciting
emotions of the ludicrous, is by aggrandizing objects
which are in themselves inconsiderable. This species of
wit may be suitably termed mock-majestic or mock-heroic.
While the former kind dehghts in low expressions, this is
the reverse, and chooses learned words and sonorous
combinations. In the following spirited passage of Pope,
the writer compares dunces to gods, and Grub-street to
hi'avi^n:
"As Berecynthia, while her offspring vie
In homage to the mother of the sky,
Surveys around her in the bless'd abode
A hundred sons, and every son a god ;
Not with less glory mighty Dulness crowned,
Shall take through Grub-street her triumphant round;
And her Parnassus glancing o'er at once,
Debold a hundred sons, and each a dunce.''
EMOTIONS OF THE LUDICROUS. 313
In this division of wit are to be included those instan-
5es where grave and weighty reflections are made on
mere trifles. In this case, as in others, the ideas are in
some respects related, or have something in common;
but the grouping of them is so singular and unexpected,
that we cannot observe it without considerable emotiop
"My galligaskins, that have long withstood
The winter's fury and encroaching frosts,
By time subdued, {what will not time subdue !)
A horrid chasm disclose."
But it is not to be supposed that wit is Hmited to the
methods of assembling together incongruous ideas which
have just been referred to. A person of genuine wit ex-
cites emotions of the ludicrous in a thousand ways, and
which will be so diverse from each other, that it will be
found exceedingly difficult to subject them to any rules
(j 293. Of the character and occasions of humour.
Closely connected with the general subject of ludicrous
emotions and of wit, is that of Humour. It is well known
that we often apply the terms humour and humorous to
descriptions of a particular character, whether written or
given in conversation, and which may be explained as
follows.
It so happens that we frequently find among men what
seems to us a disproportion in their passions ; for instance,
when they are noisy and violent, but not durable. We
find inconsistencies, contradictions, and disproportions in
^ their actior^j. They have their foibles, (hardly any one
is without them,) such as self-conceit, caprice, foolish
partialities, and jealousies. — Such incongruities in fefeling
and action cause an emotion of surprise, like an unex-
pected combination of ideas in wit. Observing them, as
we do, in connexion 'wdth the acknowledged high traits
and responsibilities of human nature, we can no more re-
frain from an emotion of the ludicrous, than we can on
seeing a gentleman of fine clothes and high dignity ma-
rking a false step and tumbling into a gutter. A pei-son
who can seize upon these specialities in temper and con-
duct, and set them forth in a lively and exact manner, is
called a man of humour ; and his descriptions are termed
humorous descriptions.
Dn
314 INSTANCES OF OTHER SEilPLE EMOTIONS.
^ 294. Of the practical utility of feelings of the ludicrous.
It is not impossible that the feeUngs which we have
examined in this chapter may have the appearance, to
some minds, of being practically useless. If this were
the fact, it would be at variance with the economy of the
mind in other respects ; which ^ives evidence everywhere
that its original tendencies are ingrafted upon it for some
practical ends. But it is not so. The feeling of the lu-
dicrous (or, as it is sometimes called, the sense of ridicule)
is attended with results which, although they may not be
perfectly obvious at first, will be found, on a little exam-
ination, to be of no small moment. It is entirely clear,
that it constitutes one of the important guides and aids
which nature has appointed of human conduct. Scarcely
any one is willing to undergo ridicule, even in its milder
and more acceptable forms ; much less to subject himself
to the " world's dread laugh." And many persons would
be less attentive to the decencies and proprieties of per-
sonal conduct, and of the intercourse of life, than they are
in fact, were it not for the fear of this species of retrbu-
tion. It is true it is not powerful enough, nor is it *he
appropriate instrument to attack the more marked 'de-
pravities incident to our nature, the strongholds of ^ts
sin ; but it is unquestionably an effective and useful ap"^nt
in its application to whatever is mean, incongruous, and
unseemly. — See, in connexion with this subject, Camp*-
bell's Philosophy of Rhetoric, bk. i., ch. iii., and Beattic
on Laughter and Ludicrous Compositions.
CHAPTER VI.
INSTANCES OF OTHER SIMPLE EMOTIONS.
^ 295. Emotions of cheerfulness, joy, and gladness.
Under the general head of Emotions there arc many
other simple feelings which merit some attention Al-
though they are, perhaps, not less essential to our nature,
and not less important than those which have been al-
ready attended to, we do not find so many difficulties in
INSTANCES OF OTHER SIMPLE EMOTIONS. 315
their examination, and but a few remarks will be want-
ing to explain them.
We begin with the emotion of cheerfulness. Of the
nature of this feeling none can be supposed to be igno-
rant It exists, in a greater or less degree, throughout the
whole course of our Kfe. It is seen in the benignant
looks, and is heard in the garrulity of old age ; it sheds
its consolations over the anxieties and toils of mahhood,
and reigns with a sort of perpetual spring in youth.
The words joy and delight express a high degree ot
cheerfulness ; the feehng is the same ; the difference is in
its greater intensity. The word gladness is nearly synon-
ymous vn\h these last, but seems to be applied particu-
larly when the joy is of a more sudden and less permanent
character.
(j 296. Emotions of melancholy, sorrow, and grief.
While there are many things in life which are fitted ti?
make us cheerful and happy, every one must know that
for wise purposes a degree of bitterness is mingled in our
cup, and that circumstances occur from time to time
which are of an opposite tendency. And these prove to
us occasions of melancholy, which is the name of another
specific simple emotion.
There are diiferent degrees of this emotion, as well as
of that of cheerfulness. We sometimes express the very
slightest degi'ee of it by the words uneasiness or discon-
tent. When the feeling of melancholy is from any cir-
cumstance greatly increased, we usually give it the name
of sorrow ; so that sorrow seems to hold nearly the same
relation to melancholy that joy does to cheerfulness.
The word grief also has nearly the same relation to
sorrow that gladness has to joy. As far as the mere feel-
ing is concerned which they represent, the two words
grief and sorrow may be regarded as synonymous with
each other; with this exception, that the terra grief is
commonly employed when tjie sorrow exists suddenly
and with great strength. Hence grief sometimes shows
itself by external signs, and even in frantic transports ;
while sorrow, even when it is deeply rooted, is more tacit,
enduring, and uncommmi'icati^"^
316 INSTANCES OF OTHER SIMPLE EMOTIONS.
^ 297. Emotions of ourprise, astonishment, and wonder.
Whenever anything novel and unexpected presents it-
self to our notice, whether in nature or in ordinary events,
we experience a new simple emotion, distinct from any
which has hitherto been mentioned, which we call a feel-
ing of surprise. — The word astonishment, which we fre-
quently use, does not express a different emotion, but the
same emotion in a different degree. When the feeling is
exceedingly strong, it seems to suspend, for a time, the
whole action of the mind ; and we say of a person in such
a situation, not merely that he is surprised, but is aston-
ished or amazed.
When the facts or events which occasion the surprise
are of such a singular and complicated character as to
induce us to dwell upon them for a length of time, the
feeling arising is then often called wonder. It is not,
however, a different emotion from what w^e ordinarily
call surprise, but the same emotion, modified by different
circumstances.
It may be added here, that this emotion is highly im-
portant to our preservation, security, and improvement.
It is in new circumstances, in untried and unexplored sit-
uations, that we are particularly required to be upon our
guard, since we know not what effects may attend them,
nor whether these effects may prove good or evil to us.
Happily for us, the emotion of surprise and astonishment
which we experience at such times is very vivid, so much
so as to arrest for a time both our perceptions and our
conduct, and to compel us to pause and consider where
we are and what is to be done.
^ 298. Emotions of dissatisfaction, displeasure, and disgust.
There is another emotion which approaches very near
to the feeling of melancholy, and still slightly differs from
. it, which we express by the term dissatisfaction. It is a
painful feeling, though only in a small degree ; but its
nature, like that of other simple emotions, cannot be fully
understood, except by a reference to the testimony of our
own inward experience.
When from any circumstance the emotion of dissatis-
faction exists in an increased degree, we often expre^^
INSTANCES OF OTHER SIMPLE EMOTIONS. 317
this difference, although the nature of the feehng remains
the same, by another term, that of displea.mre.
There appear to be other forms of the simple feeling
of dissatisfaction. The feeling of disgust is the emotion
of dissatisfaction, existing in an increased degree, but un-
der such circumstances as to distinguish it, in the view of
our consciousness, from the feeling of displeasure. The
latter feeling approximates more closely to an emotion of
hostility to the cause of it than the former. The terms
are sometimes used together, and yet not as perfectly
synonymous ; as when Ave say, that, on a certain occasion,
we were both displeased and disgusted.
§ 299. Emotions of diffidence, modesty, and shame.
There is an emotion, often indicated outwardly by
a half-averted look, and shyness, and awkwardness of
manner, expressed by the term diffidence. An interesting
modification of this feeling, as we suppose it to be, is
modesty; differing from diffidence perhaps slightly in
kind or nature, but probably only in degree. Although
this feeling attracts but little notice in the genealogy of
our mental operations, and occupies but a small space in
its description, it is important in its results. It combines
its influences in connexion with the natural desire of re-
gard or esteem, in keeping men in their place, and in
thus sustaining that propriety of conduct, and those gra-
dations of honour and of duty, which are so essential to
the existence and the happiness of society.
A higher degree of this mental state is shame. When
wo find ourselves involved in any marked improprieties
of conduct, this feeling exists ; characterized outwardly
by a downcast eye and a flushed countenance. It is
not, however, exclusively attendant upon guilt ; although
guilt, among other consequences flowing from it, is in
part punished in this way. But it seems to be, rather, an
appropriate punishment, attendant on those minor viola-
nons of decency and order wMch may exist without an
infringement on morals.
^ 300. Emotions of regard, reverence, and adoration.
Different from all the feelings which have now been
Dd2
318 INSTANCES OF OTHER SIMPLE EMOTIONS.
mentioned is the emotion of regard or respect, which, m
its simplest form, at least, we exercise towards the great
mass of our fellow-beings. The mere fact that they are
creatures of God, and are possessed of intellectual and
moral powers like our own, is deemed sufficient to lay the
foundation of the exercise of this feeling towards them.
When w^e observe in any individuals marked traits of
mental excellence, as wisdom, truth, and justice, espe-
cially when these traits are expanded and exalted by
great age, the feeling of respect which we exercise in or-
dinary cases is heightened into reverence. Every country
can boast of a few such men, the just objects of the
deepened regard of reverence ; and the eyes of success-
ive generations have been turned with the same deep
feelings towards those who are scattered along in various
places in the long tract of history.
When the reverence or veneration is free from every
inferior intermixture ; in other words, when the object of it
is regarded as without weakness, and possessed of every
possible perfection, it then becomes adoration ; a homage
of the soul so pure and exalted that it properly belongs
only to the Supreme Being. The wisdom of the wisest
men is often perplexed wath errors ; the goodness of the
best of men is marred by occasional infirmities; how
much deeper, therefore, and purer, and more elevated,
wdl be our sentiments of veneration, when directed to-
wards Him whose wisdom never fails, and who is not
only just and kind in his administrations, but the original
and inexhaustible source of beneficence and rectitude I
We conclude here the examination of the Eraptions.
We would not pretend that this part of our sentient na-
ture has been fully explored in the views which have
been taken ; but would hope that so much has been said
as to throw some satisfactory light upon it, and to leave
us at liberty to turn to another class of subjects.
THE SENSIBILITIES.
PART FIRST
NATURAL OR PATHEMATIC SENSIBILITIES.
NATURAL OR PATHEMATIC SENTIMENTS.
CLASS SECOND -
THE DESIRES.
CHAPTER I.
NATURE OF DESIRES.
^301, Of the prevalence of desire in this department of the mind.
We now proceed to enter upon a separate portion
of the Natural or Pathematic Sensibilities, distinguished
from that which has hitherto received our attention by fhe
possession of its appropriate nature, and by sustaining its
distinct and appropriate relations. The characteristic el-
ement of this region of the Natural Sensibilities, that
which in fact constitutes the basis of its existence, is the
state of mind, distinct from all others, which Ave denom-
inate DESIRE. This state of mind not only stands at the
threshold of the department which we now enter upon,
but diffuses abroad its influence, and -runs through, and
gives a character to, all the subordinate divisions into
which this part of the Pathematic nature will be found
to resolve itself. No appetite, no propensity, or affection
exists in fact, nor can we suppose it possible for them to
exist, exclusively of any intermixture of the ingredient of
DESIRE. — It is for this reason that we denominate this por-
tion of the sensitive nature Desires, as we called the oth-
er Emotions ; and as we sometimes speak of the emotive
sensibilities, so we might, with no impropriety, speak of
tlie DESIROUS or desiring sensibilities.
<J 302. The nature of desires known from consciousness.
As DESIRES occupy so prominent a place in those prin-
ciples of the mind which we now propose to give some
account of, it is proper to delay here, in order briefly to
attempt some explanation of their nature. And, in do-
ing this, we are obliged, in the first place, to repeat the
remark already often made, that we must turn the acts of
the mind inward upon itself, aijfl consult the intimations
of our own consciousness. We do not suppose that any
definition of desire, inasmuch as it is obviously a simple
state of the mind, could possibly throw any such light
322 NATURE OF DESIRES.
upon it as to preclude the necessity of an internal refer-
ence. It is the light of the mind, if we will but turn our
eyes to behold it, and that alone, which can truly indicate
what may be called the essentiality of its nature.-— At
the same time, while we must obviously consult conscious-
ness for a knowledge of its distinctive character, we may
probably render our conceptions of it more distinct and
perfect, by considering some of the circumstances or inci-
dents of its origin, and some of the relations it sustains.
^ 303. Of the place of desires in relation to other mental states
It is important to possess a well-settled and definite idea
of the place of Desires, considered in relation to other
mental states ; especially as a thorough understanding of
this point throws light upon the important subject of the
philosophy of the Will. — (1.) And the first remark to be
made here is, that desires never follow, in direct and i?n~
mediate sequence, to intellections or the cognitive acts of
the mind. There is a distinct department or portion of the
mind, located, if we may be permitted to use that expres-
sion, betM^een the intellect and the mental states under
consideration. It requires no further proof than the simple
statement itself when we say that we never desire a thing,
simply because we perceive it or have a knowledge of it.
The mere perception of a thing is of itself no adequate
reason why we should make the thing an object of pur-
suit. There must obviously be some intermediate state of
the mind, existing as the proximate and causative occa-
sion of desires, viz., an emotion. Accordingly, the pre-
requisite condition to desire is some antecedent feeling,
generally of a pleasurable nature, which intervenes be-
tween the desire, and the perception or knowledge of the
desired object.
(2.) In illustration of what has been said, it is the fact,
that, whenever we desire the presence or possession of an
object, it is because we are in some way pleased with it.
Whenever, on the other, hand, we desire its removal from
our presence, it is because we are in some way displeas-
ed with it. And these expressions, indicative of pleas-
ure or displeasure, obviously involve the existence of
that distinct state of the mind which we denominate an
NATURE OF DESIRES. 323
EiviOTioN ; a state of feeling entirely different both from the
perception of the object which goes before such emotion,
and the desire of the object which follows after it. Ac
cordingly, we may feel at liberty to state, in general terms,
that no man ever desired an object, or could ])y any pos-
sibility desire it, in regard to which he had experienced
no emotion, but had always been in a state of perfect in-
differency. Such, in the matter under consideration, is
obviously the fixed law of the mind.
^ 304. The desires characterized by comparative fixedness and perma*
nency.
There is one mark or trait attending the feelings uiv->
der consideration which appears to be worthy of notice.
We refer to the fact, that the desires, as compared with
the emotions, appear to possess a greater degree of fixed-
ness or permanency. It is well known that our emotions
rapidly go and come ; sinking and rising on the mind's
surface like the unfixed waves of a troubled sea. But
the desires, w^hich are subsequent to them in the time of
their origin, and may be regarded as produced in, and as
emerging from, the troubled waters of emotion, evidently
exhibit less facility and elasticity of movement. Having
once entered their allotted position, although they are not
absolutely immoveable, they occupy it with so much perti-
nacity as to render it proper to regard this as one of their
characteristics.
There certainly can be no great effort necessary in un-
derstanding the statement which has been made ; and no
great difficulty, as we suppose, in recognising and sub-
stantiating its truth. Take, for instance, the case of a
man who is an exile in a foreign land, or of the unfortu-
nate individual who is unjustly condemned to the occu-
pancy of a prison ; and they will assuredly tell you, that
the desires they have to see once more the light of heav-
en, their native land, and the countenances of their friends,
sustains itself in their bosoms with a pertinacity which
defies all change ; and that tlrey might as well rend away
the fibres of the heart itself, as to separate fron\ it a feel-
ino- so deeply rooted. — We give this as an illustration ; but
it is more or less so in every case where the desires have
decidedly fixed themselves upon any interesting topic.
324 NATURE OF DESIRES,
^ 305. Desires always imply an object desired.
An additional characteristic of Desires is, that they al-
ways have an object, generally a distinct and well-defined
one ; and cannot possibly exist without it. To speak of
a desire, without involving the idea of an object desired,
would be an anomaly in language. They differ in this
respect from emotions ; whicH, although they have their
antecedent causes or occasions, do not possess, in their
own nature, a prospective or anticipative bearing, but
terminate in themselves. Desires, on the contrary, are
always pointing onward to what is to be hereafter. Anc
this is probably one reason of their greater degree of fix-
edness or permanency. The desires lean upon the objects
whioh they have in view, as a sort of pillar of support ;
they may be said, with strict truth at the bottom of the
expression, to cling around it as the vine encircles and
rests itself upon the elm ; and, of course, are not left
loose and fluttering, which is substantially the case with
the states of mind which immediately precede them, at
the mercy of every passing wind.
^ 306. The fulfilment of desires attended with enjoyment.
As a general thing, it may be said of the emotions that
they are either pleasant or painful, although, in some in-
stances, even of those feelings it might not be easy to
predicate distinctly and confidently either the one or the
other. And this last statement is true particularly of the
desires ; which, although they exist distinctly and well-
defined in the view of the mind's consciousness, and con-
stitute a powerful motive to action, can hardly be said, for
ihe time being, to involve, in their own nature, eithei
oleasure or its opposite. At any rate, we find it difficulty
Ji ordinary cases, distinctly to detect either of these traits^
But, however this may be, there is still another char-
acteristic circumstance, which aids in distinguishing them
rrom other mental states. It is this. Every desire, when
the object towards which it is directed is attained, is at-
tended with a degree of pleasure. It is absolutely in-
separable from the nature of desire, that the acquisition of
the object of its pursuit, whether that object be good or
evil, will be followed by the possession of some enjoy-
NATURE OF DESIRES. 325
ment. Sometimes tlie enjoyment is very great, at others
less ; varying generally with the intensity of the desire.
^ 307. Of variations or degrees in the strength of the desires.
There is this further statement to be made in reference
to the Desires, applicable, however, to a multitude of
other states of the mind, that they exist in different de-
grees. As a general thing, they will be found to exist in
a greater or less degree, in accordance with the greater
or less vividness and strength of the antecedent emotions.
The original cause, however, of these variations, making
allowance for some occasional constitutional differences,
is to be sought for in the intellect or understanding. The
more distinctly we perceive or understand a thing, the
more distinct and vivid, we may reasonably expect, will
be our emotions. And as the Desires are based upon the
emotions as the antecedent occasion or ground of their
existence, they may, in like manner, be expected to ex-
hibit, as has already been intimated, a vividness and
strength, corresponding, in a very considerable degree, to
that of the feelings which preceded them. — It will be
noticed, that we do not speak here of the permanency of
desires, w^hich is a very different thing, but simply of their
intensity or strength for the time being.
^ 308. Tendency to excite movement an attribute of desire.
We shall conclude this notice of the nature of desire
with remarking that there is one other characteristic at-
tribute which particularly distinguishes it, and which un-
doubtedly must enter as an element into every perfect
delineation of it. Such, is the nature of desire, that it is
of itself, in virtue of its own essence, a prompting, exci-
ting, or, as Mr. Hobbes would term it, a motive state of
the mind. In other words, its very existence involves the
probability of action ; it sets the mind upon the alert ; it
arouses the faculties, both mental and bodily, and places
them in the attitude of movement. — It is true that the
desire does not, in point of feet, always result in action.
Before action can be consummated, another power, still
more remote in the interior structure of the mind, must be
consulted, that of the Will. If the Will decidedly oppo-
£e
326 NATURE OF DESIRES.
ses the desire, its tendency is, of course, frustrated in the
object aimed at ; but the tendency itself, although disap-
pointed of its object, still remains. It is there, and can-
not be otherwise than there, while the desire exists.
This important tendency does not exist, as a general
thing, in other departments of the mind. It does not ex-
ist, for instance, in the cognitive or intellective part of the
mind, in itself considered. If the intellect were insulated
trom the nature which is back of it, man would be a being
of speculation merely, not of action. Nor does it exist in
the emotions. If man were formed with the emotive sen-
sibilities only, without the accompaniment of those ulterior
sensibilities which are built upon them, he w^ould be as
unmoved and inoperative as if he were constituted with
the single attribute of perceptivity. He would be like a
ship anchored in the centre of the ocean, agitated and
thrown up and down on the rising and falling billows,
but wholly incapable of any movement in latitude or
longitude. The tendency to excite movement, as an in-
herent or essential characteristic, exists in the desires, and
nowhere else, except in the corresponding portion of the
moral sensibilities, viz., the feelings of moral obligation.
The tendency in question belongs to these two mental
states alike. — It is the office of the Will, as a separate
and relatively a higher part of our nature, to act in refer-
ence to this tendency, either in checking or aiding, in
annulling or consummating it.
^ 309, Classification of this part of the sensibilities.
If we were called upon to consider the Desires in then
simplest form only, we might perhaps feel at liberty t(
dismiss the subject with what has already been said. Bu-
the circumstance that they are subject to various modifi-
cations and combinations sets us upon a new field of in-
quiry of great extent and interest. The Desires are some-
times modified by being directed to particular ends. In
other words, they are constituted with specific tendencies,
from which they seldom vary. This is the case with the
Instincts, properly so called ; and probably not less so, in
their original and unperverted action, with the Appetites.
In regard to the Affections, a distinct class of the acti"^"e or
NATURE OF DESIRES. 327
sensitive principles which come under this general head,
it seems, as far as we can judge, to be the fact, that the
DESIRES exist in a close and inseparable combination with
certain emotions, and are thus made to assume an aspect
which they would not otherwise possess. Accordingly,
we have a basis, an ample and distinctly defined one, for
a subordinate classification. And it is to the examination
of the Desires, as they exist in this classification, that we
now proceed ; beginning with those which, in the grada-
tions of regard we are naturally led to bestow upon them,
are generally adjudged as lowest in point of rank, and
proceeding upward to those which are higher. In ac-
cordance with this plan, they will present themselves to
notice, and be made the subject of distinct consideration,
in the order of the Instincts, the Appetites, the Propensi-
ties, and the Affections.
<J 310. The principles, based upon desire, susceptible of a twofold
operation.
There is one important remark which is applicable to
all the principles, with the exception of the Instincts,
which now present themselves for examination. It is,
that, with the exception just mentioned, they all have a
twofold action, instinctive and voluntary. This state-
ment, of course, will not apply to the pure instincts ; for
the very idea of their being instincts, in the proper sense
of the term, seems to imply an absolute exclusion of their
being voluntary. But as we advance from the Instincts
to the Appetites, and still upward to the Propensities and
Affections, we find each and all of these important prin-
ciples susceptible of being contemplated in this twofold
aspect. Each, under circumstances of such a nature as
to preclude inquiry and reflection, is susceptible of an in-
stinctive actidh; and each, under other circumstances
more favourable to the exercise of reasoning, is suscepti-
ble of a deliberate or voluntary action.— This remark is
important in our estimate of these principles, considered
in a moral point of view. •
328 INSTINCTS.
CHAPTER n.
INSTINCTS.
^311, Of instincts in man as compared with those of inferior animala.
In proceedmg to examine that part of our sensitive
constitution which is comprehended under the geneial
name of Desires, we naturally begin with instincts, which
are nothing more than desires, existing under a particular
and definite modification. — It is generally conceded, that
there are in our nature some strong and invariable ten-
dencies to do certain things, without previous forethought
and deliberation, w^hich bear that name. The actions of
men are not always governed by feelings founded on rea-
soning, but are sometimes prompted by quick and decisive
impulses, which set themselves in array before reason has
time to operate. It is from this circumstance that these
mental tendencies or desires are termed instinctive ; a
word which implies, in its original meaning, a movement
or action, whether mental or bodily, without reflection
and foresight.
Although such instinctive tendencies are undoubtedly
found in men, it must be admitted that they are less fre-
quent, and, in general, less effective, than in the lower
animals. And, in truth, it could not be expected to be
otherwise, when we remember that the brute creation are
wholly destitute of the powers of abstraction .'^nd of rea-
soning, or, at most, possess them only in a smnll degree.
The provident oversight of the Supreme Being, without
whose notice not a sparrow falleth to the ground, has met
this deficiency by endowing them with instincts iha most
various in kind, and strikingly adapted to ^he exigences
of their situation. We find the proofs of this remark in
the nests of birds, in the ball of the silkw^ornj^ in the
house of the beaver, in the return and flight of birds at
their appointed seasons, and in a multitude of cth-^r in-
stances.
^312. Illustrations of the instincts of brute animals.
It would be easy, by means of various interesting facts.
INSTINCTS. 329
to illustrate the nature of the instinctive principle. — ^The
philosopher Galen once took a kid from its dead mothci
by dissection, and, before it had tasted any food, brought
it into a certain room, having many vessels full, some ol
wine, sorae of oil, some of honey, some of milk, or some
other liquor, and many others filled with different sorts of
grain and fruit, and there laid it. After a little time the
embryon had acquired strength enough to get up on its
feet ; and it was with sentiments of strong admiration
that the spectators saw it advance towards the liquors,
fruit, and grain, which were placed round the room, and,
having smelt all of them, at last sup the milk alone.
About two months afterward, the tender sprouts of
plants and shrubs were brought to it, and, after smelling
all of them and tasting some, it began to eat of such as
are the usual food of goats.
The cells constructed by the united efforts of a hive of
bees have often been referred to as illustrating the nature
of instincts. — " It is a curious mathematical problem,"
says Dr. Reid, " at what precise angle the three planes
which compose the bottom of a cell in a honey-comb
ought to meet, in order to make the greatest saving or the
least expense of material and labour. This is one of those
problems belonging to the higher parts of mathematics,
which, are called problems of maxirria and minima. It
has been resolved by some mathematicians, particularly
by the ingenious Mr. Maclaurin, by a fluxionary calcula-
tion, which is to be found in the Transactions of the
Royal Society of London. He has determined precisely
the angle required ; and he found, by the most exact men-
suration the subject could admit, that it is the very angle
in which the three planes in the bottom of the cell of a
honey-comb do actually meet.
" Shall we ask here, who taught the bee the properties
of solids, and to resolve problems of maxima and mini
ma ? We need not say that bees know none of these
things. They work most geometrically, vdthout any
knowledge of geometry ; somewhat like a child, who,
by turning the handle of an organ, makes good music
without any knowledge of music. The art is not in the
child, but in him who made the organ. In like manner,
Ee2
INSTINCTS.
when a bee makes its comb so geometrically, the geome-
try is not in the bee, but in that great Geometrician who
made the bee, and made all things in nmiiber, weight,
and measure."
^ ^ 313. Instances of instincts in the human mind.
But it is not our design to enter particularly into the
subject of the instincts of animals in this place, although
this topic is undoubtedly one of exceeding interest both
to the philosopher and the Christian. Such inquiries are
too diverse and remote from our main object, which has
particular, if not exclusive, reference to the economy of
human nature. There are certain instinctive tendencies
in man, as well as in the inferior animals ; but they are
few in number ; and, compared with the other parts of
his nature, are of subordinate importance. Some of them
will now be referred to.
(T.) The action of respiration is thought, by some wri
ters, to imply the existence of an instinct. We cannot
suppose that the infant at its birth has learned the impor-
tance of this act by reasoning upon it ; and he is as ig-
norant of the internal machinery which is put in opera-
tion, as he is of its important uses. And yet he puts the
whole machinery into action at the very moment of com-
ing into existence, and with such regularity and success
that we cannot well account for it, except on the ground
of an instinctive impulse.
(II.) " By the same kind of principle," says Dr. Reid,
(^Essays on the Active Powers, iii., chapter ii.,) " a new-
born child, when the stomach is emptied, and nature has
brought milk into the mother's breast, sucks and swallows
its food as perfectly as if it knew the principles of that
operation, and had got the habit of working according
to them.
" Sucking and swallowing are very complex operations.
Anatomists describe about thirty pairs of muscles that
must be employed in every draught. Of those muscles,
every one must be served by its proper nerve, and can
make no exertion but by some influence communicated
by the nerve. The exertion of all those muscles and
nerv'es is not simultaneous. They must succeed each
INSTINCTS. 331
other In a certain order, and their order is no less necessa-
ry than the exertion itself. — This regular train of opera-
tions is carried on, according to the nicest rules of art,
by the infant, who has neither art, nor science, nor ex-
perience, nor habit.
" That the infant feels the uneasy sensation of huno-er,
I admit ; and that it sucks no longer than till this sensa--'
tion be removed. But who informed it that this uneasy
sensation might be removed, or by what means l That
it knows nothing of this is evident, for it will as readily
suck a finger, or a bit of stick, as the nipple."
(III.) The efforts which men make for self-preserva-
tion appear to be in part of an instinctive kind. If a
man is in danger of falling from unexpectedly losing his
balance, we say with much propriety that the instantane-
ous effort he makes to recover his position is instinctive.
If a person is unexpectedly and suddenly plunged into a
river, the first convulsive struggle which he makes for his
safety seems to be of the same kind. His reasoning
powers may soon come to his aid, and direct his further
measures for his preservation ; but his first efforts are evi-
dently made on another principle. When a violent blow
is aimed at one, he instinctively shrinks back, although
he knew beforehand it would be aimed in sport, and al-
though his reason told him there was no danger.
^ 314. Further instances of instincts in men.
(IV.) There is also a species of resentment which may
properly be called instinctive. Deliberate resentment im-
plies the exercise of reason, and is excited only by inten-
tional injury. Instinctive resentment, on the other hand,
operates whether the injury be intentional or not, and
precisely as it does in the lower animals.
When we experience pain which is caused by some ex-
ternal object, this feeling arises in the mind with a great-
er or less degree of power, and prompts us to retaliate on
tlie cause of it. A child, foi^ instance, stumbles over a
stone or stick of wood and hurts himself, and, under the
impulse of instinctive resentment, violently beats the un-
conscious cause of its suffer nig. Savages, when they have
been struck by an arrow in battle, have been known to tear
332 * INSTINCTS.
it from the wound, break, and bite it with their teeth,' and
dash it on the ground, as if the original design and im-
petus of destruction were in the arrow itself. — Similar
views will apply, under certain circumstances, to many
other active principles.
(V.) There is imdoubtedly danger of carrying the
• doctrine of the instinctive tendencies of the human mind,
too far ; but we may consider ourselves safe in adding to
those which have been mentioned, the power of interpret-
ing natural signs. Whenever we see the outward signs
of rage, pity, grief, joy, or hatred, we are able immedi-
ately to interpret them. It is abundantly evident that
children, at a very early period, read and decipher, in
the looks and gestures of their parents, the emotions and
passions, whether of a good or evil kind, with which they
are agitated.
<J 315. Of the final cause or use of instincts.
Although the instincts, as a general statement, com-
mend themselves less decisively to our regard and admi-
ration than some other portions of the mind, they still
have their important uses. It seems, in particular-, to be
the design of the instinctive part of our nature to aid and
protect us in those cases where reason cannot come sea-
sonably to our aid. According as the reasoning poAvers
acquire strength, and prepare themselves more and more
for the various emergencies to which we are exposed, the
necessity of instinctive aids is proportionally diminished.
But there are some cases which the reasoning power can
never reach ; and, consequently, our whole protection is in
instinct.
It is evident, therefore, that they are a necessary part
of our constitution ; that they help to complete the men-
tal system ; and although of subordinate power and value
in man, compared with the inferior animals, they still
have their worth. As the reasoning power predominates
iii man, so instincts predominate in the lower animals;
and as we do not expect to find the glory of reasoning
in brutes, so w^e should not expect to discover the full ex-.
cellence of instinctive powers in men ; but should rathei
look for them in the insect and the worm,^in the beasts ol
APPETITES. 333
the held, and tne fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the
air, dwelling in them as a part of their nature, and bless-
inr ^hile they control and guide them.
CHAPTER III.
APPETITES.
^ 316. Of the general nature and characteristics of the appetites.
Under the general head of Desires, the subject of ap-
petites seems next to propose itself for consideration.
But as it is one of limited extent, and of subordinate im-
portance in a metaphysical point of view, only a few re-
marks will be necessary. The arrangement, which brings
the subject forward for discussion under the head of De-
sires, will recommend itself on a very little attention.
The prominent appetites are those of hunger and thirst ;
but the appetite of hunger is nothing more than the desire
for food ; the appetite for thirst is a desire for drink.
Nevertheless, they appear to be sufficiently distinguish-
ed from the other desires. They are not like the instincts,
always gratified in a certain fixed and particular manner ;
nor are they like them in being wholly independent of
the reasoning power. On the contrary, they may be re-
strained and regulated in some degree ; and when it is
otherwise, their demands may be quieted in various ways.
But without dwelling upon such considerations, the
statement has been made with much appearance of rea-
son, that they are characterized by these three things. —
(1.) They take their rise from the body, and are common
•:o men with the brutes. — (2.) They are not constant in
their operation, but occasional. — (3.) They are accompa-
nied with an uneasy sensation.
It may be remarked here, that the feeling of uneasiness
ijpw referred to appears always to precede the desire oi
appetite, and to be essential to*it.
^317. The appetites necessary to our preservation, and not originally
of a selfish character.
Although our appetites do not present much of inter-
334 APPETITES.
est, considered as parts of our mental economy, they have
their important uses, in connexion with the laws and re-
quirements of our physical nature. — " The appetites of
hunger and thirst," says Stewart, " were intended for the
preservation of the individual ; and without them reason
would have been insufficient for this important purpose.
Suppose, for example, th^t the appetite of hunger had
been no part of our constitution, reason and experience
might have satisfied us of the necessity of food to our
preservation ; but how should we have been able, with-
out an implanted principle, to ascertain, according to the
varying state of our animal economy, the proper seasons
for eating, or the quantity of food that is salutary to the
body ? The lower animals not only receive this informa-
tion from nature, but are, moreover, directed by instinct
to the particular sort of food that it is proper for them
to use in health and in sickness. The senses of taste and
smell, in the savage state of our species, are subservient,
at least in some degree, to the same purpose.
" Our appetites can with no propriety be called selfish,
for they are directed to their respective objects as ultimate
ends, and they must all have operated, in thefrst instance,
prior to any experience of the pleasure arising from their
gratification. After this experience, indeed, the desire
of enjoyment will naturally corpe to be combined with the
appetite ; and it may sometimes lead us to stimulate or
provoke the appetite with a view to the pleasure which
is to result from indulging it. Imagination, too, and the
association of ideas, together with the social affections,
and sometimes the moral faculty, lend their aid, and alj
conspire together in forming a complex passion, in which
the animal appetite is only one ingredient. In proportion
as this passion is gratified, its influence over the conduct
becomes the more irresistible, (for all the active determi-
nations of our nature are strengthened by habit,) till at
last we struggle in vain against its tyranny. A man so
enslaved by his animal appetites exhibits humanity m one
of its most miserable and contemptible forms."*
<J 318. Of the prevalence and origin of appetites for intoxicating drugs
There are not only natural appetites, but artificial oi
* Stewart's Philosonhy o-f the Moral and Active Powers, bk. i., ch. i.
APPETITES 335
acquired ones. It is no uncommon thing to find persons
who have formed an appetite for ardent spirits, for to-
bacco, for opium, and intoxicating drugs of various kinds.
It is a matter of common remark, that the appetite for
inebriating liquors, in particular, is very prevalent, espe-
cially among Savage tribes. — -And it may be proper briefly
to explain the origin of such appetites.
Such drugs and liquors as have been referred to have
the power of stimulating the nervous systemj and by
means of this excitement they cause a degree of pleasure.
This pleasurable excitement is soon followed by a corre-
sponding degree of languor and depression, to obtain re-
lief from which resort is again had to the intoxicating
draught or drug. This results not only in a restoration,
but an exhilaration of spirits ; which is again followed by
depression and distress. And thus resort is had, time after
time, to the strong drink, the tobacco, the opium, or what-
ever it is which intoxicates, until an appetite is formed
so strong as to subdue, lead captive, and brutalize the
subject of it. So that the only w^ay to avoid the forming
of such a habit, after the first erroneous step has been
taken, is quietly to endure the subsequent unhappiness
attendant on the pleasurable excitement of intoxication,
till the system has time to recover itself, and to throw off
its wretchedness by its own efforts.
^ 319. Of the twofold operation and the morality of the appetites.
In accordance with the remarks in the last section m
the chapter on the Nature of desires, we may add here
the general statement, that the operation of all the Appe-
tites, of whatever kind, is twofold, instinctive and vol-
untary. So far as they are directed to their objects as
ultimate ends, without taking into consideration anything
else, their operation is obviously analogous to that of the
pure instincts. But after the first instance of their grati-
fication, they may be instigated to subsequent action, not
Sp much by a view of the ultimate object as of the pleas-
ure accessoiy to its acquisition. And thus it sometimes
happens, that their action, in view of the enjoyment before
them, is turbulent and violent. Nevertheless, we may
avail ourselves of the aid of other principles of th(i mind
336 PROPENSITIES.
to subject them to a degree of restraint, to regulate, and,
m a certain sense, to cultivate them. And, so far as this
can be done, they are obviously susceptible of what may
be called a voluntary action.
And here is the basis of the morality of the appetites.
So far as they are susceptible o"f a merely instinctive ac-
tion, they cannot be said to possess any moral character,
either good or bad. They are greatly useful in their
place ; but, in a moral point of view, are to be regarded
simply as innocent. It is only so far as they are volun-
tary, so far as they can be reached and controlled by the
will, that they can, by any possibility, be morally good
or evil, virtuous or vicious. So that virtue and vice, con-
sidered in relation to the appetites, is located, not in the
appetites themselves in their intrinsic nature, but in their
exercises ; and in those exercises only which are subor-
dinate to the influence of the will.
CHAPTER IV.
PROPENSITIES.
^ 320. General remarks on the nature of the propensities.
As we advance further in the examination of this por-
tion of the natural or pathematic sensibilities, we meet
with certain forms of Desire which are different from any
we have hitherto attended to, and which accordingly re-
quire a distinct consideration. There is certainly no dan-
ger of their being confounded with the Instincts, inas-
much as they do not exhibit that fixedness and inflexible-
ness of action which is usually characteristic of those
states of mind. They differ from the Appetites also,
first, because they are much less dependent for their ex-
istence and exercise upon the condition of the body ;
ana, secondly, because, in that comparative estimation
which is naturally attached to the different active princi-
ples of our nature, they confessedly hold a higher rank.
At the same time they evidently, iTi the graduation of our
PROPENSITIES. 337
regard, fall below the Affections, besides being distin-
guished from them in some other respects. Hence we
ma;y , with entire propriety, not only assign them a separ-
ate and distinct position, but shall find a convenience in
designating them by a distinctive name. — Among the
Pr(tj>::t^.ties (for this is the name which we propose to at-
tach to them) may be mentioned the principle of self
preservation, or the desire of continued existence j curiosi-
ty, or the desire of knowledge ; sociality, or the desire of
eocicty ; self-love, or the desire of happiness ; the desire of
asteem, the propensity to imitate, and some others.
• Although we have briefly indicated some of the cir-
cumstances which separate the Propensities from the oth-
er leadmg principles coming under this general head, it
will be noticed that we have not attempted to give a
statement of what they are in themselves. It is true, they
are all based upon dtsire, and they all have some object
But whatever is intnnsic or specifically characteristic in
their nature will be best learned from the considerations
that will necessarily arise, as they pass successively under
review.
^ 321. Principle of self-preservation, virthe desire of continued existence.
The first of those original desires which we shall pro-
ceed to notice may.be denominated the principle of self-
preservation, or the desire of a continuance of existence.
— The proof of the existence of such a desire is not only
abundant in what we see around us, but is so intimate
also to our own consciousness, that it can hardly be ne-
cessary to enter into details. " All that a man hath will
he give for his life," was a sort of moral axiom in the
earliest antiquity ; and it stands as little in need of the
verifiv;ation of proof now as it did then. It is true that
the principle may, in its practical operation, be over-
come by the ascendant influence of other principles, by
the mere desire of esteem, by the love of country, or by
the sentiments of duty ; but, glthough annulled in its re-
■ suits, it can hardly be said to be extinct in its nature. It
still lingers, unextinguished and unextinguishable, in the
toundations and depths of the mmd. Even in cases of
suicide, the desire of the extinction of life which is sup^
Ff
338 PROPENSITIES.
posed to exist is not absolute but relative ; the self-mur
derer would still cling to existence if it could be possess
ed separate from the evils v^^hich attend it ; it is not life
in itself considered, which he hates, but the variety of un-
pleasant circumstances, either actual or imagined, which
are connected with it.
$ 322. Of the twofold action of the principle of self-preservaiion.
The principle of self-preservation, or desire of the con-
tinuance of existence, as well as the appetites, has a two-
fold operation, viz., instinctive and voluntary. These
two aspects or methods of its operation are to be carefully
distinguished from each other. The instinctive operation
takes place when life is threatened or endangered on some
sudden and unexpected emergencies. When a person is
in danger of falling, he instinctively puts forth his hand to
sustain himself; when a blow is suddenly aimed at him,
he instinctively makes an effort to ward it off; and the
operation of this instinctive form of the desire is exceed-
ingly rapid as well as effective. This instinctive action
is highly important in all cases \yhere an effort for self-
preservation, based upon inquiry and reasoning, would
come too late. — When the exercise of the desire under
consideration exists in connexion with inquiry and reason-
ing, and, of course, is ultimately based upon decisions
of the will, it is said to be voluntary. It is under the sug-
gestions of this form of the principle in question that we
are led to make all those prospective calculations and ef-
forts which have particular reference to the continuance
and protection of life. In either point of view, whether
considered as instinctive or voluntary, it is a principle ev-
idently adapted with great wisdom to man's situation and
wants. It is practically a powerful motive to action ; and
in its voluntary exercise is always morally good, so far as
it exists in entire conformity with the requisitions of an
unperverted conscience.
^ 323. Of curiosity, or the desire of knowledge.
Another of the leading Propensive principles is curi-
osity, or the desire of knowledge ; in respect to which it
scarcely admits of a doubt, that it is to be regarded as
PROPENSITIES. 339
one of the implanted and original characteristics of om
mental constitution. Although it must be acknowledged
that this principle exists in very various degrees, from the
weakest form of life and activity to almost irrepressible
strength, yet a person utterly without curiosity would be
deemed almost as strange and anomalous as a person
without sensation. If curiosity be not natural to man,
then it follows that the human mind is naturally indiffer-
ent to the objects that are presented to it, and to the dis-
covery of truth : and that its progress in knowledge is
naturally unattended with satisfaction ; a state of things
which could not be expected, and is not warranted by
facts. On the contrary, we see the operation of this
principle everywhere. When anything unexpected and
strange takes place, the attention of all persons is imme-
diately directed towards it ; it is not a matter of indiffer-
ence, but all are anxious to ascertain the cause.
There is at least one class of writers whose prospects
of being read depend in a great measure on the work-
ings of this principle ; we refer to novelists and writers
of romance. However commonplace may be their con-
ceptions, and however uninteresting their style, if they
lay the plan of their novel or romance with so much skill
as strongly to excite the curiosity, they can command
readers. And this, undoubtedly, is the whole secret of
success in a multitude of cases.
<J 324. Further illustrations of the principle of curiosity.
In further proof of the existence of this propensity as
a natural or implanted one, it may be proper to refer to
the whole class of the Deaf and Dumb, and to those un-
fortunate individuals who are blind as well as deaf and
dumb. These persons almost uniformly give the most
striking indications of a desire to learn ; it seems to glow
in their countenance, to inspire their gestures, and to urge
them on with a sort of violence in their inquiries. Cer-
Tainly, if the principle of cu«osity were not implanted,
and did not exist in great strength, they would be entire-
ly overcome by the multitude of discouragements with
which they are encompassed.
Take, as an illustration, the case of James Mitchell, ol
340 PROPENSITIES.
whom Mr. Stewart has given a minute and interesting ac-
count. Although this unfortunate boy was afflicted with
the threefold deprivation of being deaf, sightless, and
without the use of speech, he exhibited a considerable
degree of mental activity. The principle of Curiosity, in
'particular, existed in great strength. He showed a strong
desire to examine, and to obtain a knowledge of all ob-
jects that came within his reach. We find him exploring
the ground inch by inch ; we see him creeping on his
hands and knees on bridges and the tops of houses ; ex-
amining not only men, but dogs, horses, carriages, fur-
niture, and musical instruments ; standing by the side of
shoemakers, tailors, and bricklayers, and intently curious
to know the mode and the result of their labours.
But it is unnecessary to dwell upon these general con-
siderations, or to refer to extraordinary instances, when
we constantly witness in all infants and children the most
ample proofs that the principle of curiosity is deeply im-
planted in the human mind. It seems to be their life ;
it keeps them constantly in motion ; from morn till night
it furnishes new excitements to activity and new sources
of enjoyment. The poets, many of whom are entitled to
the credit of an exact observance of human nature, have
made this trait in infants and children the foundations of
many striking passages, as in the following :
" In the pleased infant see its power expand,
When first the coral fills his little hand ;
Throned in his mother's lap, it dries each tear,
As her sweet legend falls upon his ear ;
Next it assails hini in his top's stranore hum,
Breathes in his whistle, echoes in his drum ;
Each gilded toy that doting love bestows,
He longs to break, and every spring expose."
^ 325. Of the twofold operation and the morality of the principle of
curiosity.
The innate principle or propensity of curiosity, like that
t'i self-preservation, has its twofold action, instinctive
tend VOLUNTARY. — An action which is purely instinctive is
always directed towards its object as an ultimate end ; it
looks at the object itself, without regard to the good or
evil which may be involved in it ; it chooses and pursues
it for its own sake. It is in this way that the principle
PROPENSITIES. 34?
of curiosity operates in the first instance. This is its in-
stinctive operation. And, so far as it thus operates, it is
neither selfish nor benevolent ; neither morally good noi
evil ; but simply innocent and useful.
It possesses also a voluntary action, founded upon a
view of consequences, and implying the exercise of reflec-
tion. We may direct it to proper objects ; we may stim-
ulate its exercise by considerations of interest or of duty ,
we may restrain it when it becomes irregular and inor-
dinate. And its action, so far as it exists under such cir-
cumstances, may, with entire propriety, be denominated
voluntary. And, so far as it is of this character, morality
is predicable of it ; it may be either virtuous or vicious.
If it be stimulated to action for good ends, and with a
suitable regard to all other moral claims, its exercise is
virtuous. If it have bad ends in view, or be put forth
with such intensity as to violate other moral obligations,
its exercise is vicious. It is in accordance with these
views that Mr. Stewart remarks upon and disapproves
the conduct of a certain ancient astronomer. It appears
that, on a certain occasion, the astronomer was accused of
indifference in respect to public transactions. He replied
to the charge by the remark that his country was in the
heavens ; distinctly implying that he had deliberately
merged the duties of the citizen in those of the astrono-
mer, and that love to his country was essentially annulled
by the higher love which he cherished for his chosen
science. We obviously have here an instance of the in-
ordinate exercise of the principle under consideration. It
was not duly subordinated. It became so intense as to
conflict, in the view of an enlightened conscience, with
the proper exercise of other feelings, and with the dis-
ch ar ge of other duties.
{) 326. Imitativeness, or the propensity to imitation.
Another of the original propensities of the human mind
ts the principle of Imitation, dr the desire of doing as we
see othei-s do. We find the evidence of the existence of
such a principle everywhere around us. — If this propen-
sity be not natural, it will be difficult to account for what
every one must have noticed in infancy and childhood
^ Ff2 •
342 PROPENSITIES.
And we take tliis occasion to remark, that on this whole
subject we shall refer particularly to the early periods of
life. That is a time when human nature will be likely to
show itself in its true features. And in respect to the
principle now before us, it is certain that children are
early found to observe with care what others do, and to
attempt doing the like. They are greatly aided by this
propensity in learning to utter articulate sounds. It is
not without long-continued eiforts, in which they are evi-
dently sustained by the mere pleasure of imitation, that
they acquire the use of oral language.
At a little later period of life, after having learned to
articulate, and having become old enough to take part in
juvenile sports, we find the same propensity at work.
With the animation and formidable airs of jockeys, they
bestride a stick for a horse, and try equestrian experi-
ments; they conduct their small and frail carriages
through courts and streets, and journey with their rude
sledges from one hill-top to another. Ever busily enga-
ged, they frame houses, build fortifications, erect water-
works, and lay out gardens in miniature. They shoulder
a cane for a musket ; practise a measured step and fierce
look ; and become soldiers, . as well as gardeners and
architects, before they are men. — But the operation of
this propensity is not limited to children ; men also do as
their fathers have done before them ; it often requires no
small degree of moral courage to deviate from the line of
precedents. Whether right or wrong, we generally feel
a degree of safety, much greater than we should other-
wise feel, so long as we tread in the path of others •
$ 327. Practical results of the principle of imitation.
It may, perhaps, be supposed by some, whatever evi-
dence may exist in favour of regarding the principle un-
der consideration as an original one, that it has but a
slight connexion with the advancement and the happiness
of mankind. But it is a remark not unfrequently to be
made in respect to the principles of the mind, that often
results of great magnitude are found to connect them-
selves with elements in human nature that appeared in
themselves exceedingly insignificant. Such, it is possible.
PROPENSITIES. 343
may be the^case here. We often speak of imitativeness
as a principle which governs children ; but are less will-
ing to acknowledge, which is hardly less the fact, that it
is a principle which governs men. We cannot doubt,
from the reflection we have been able to bestow upon it,
that the principle before us, whatever aspect it may pre-
sent at first sight, was designed to be, and is in fact, one
of the important supports of society ; a source of knowl-
edge, happiness, and power. If this principle were ol)-
lit^rated, the bond of union which now holds so closely
together the two great divisions of society, the old and
the young, would be greatly w^eakened ; an event, in all
points of view, much to be deplored. Not only in child-
hood, but in mature age, as we have already had occa-
sion to intimate, we walk in the steps of our fathers, fol-
lowing in arts and in manners the same practices, and
sustaining the same institutions ; and it is desirable, as a
general thing, that we should do so. And we do it, not
merely because we suppose them to be clothed with the
attribute of superior wisdom, but also because we are
prompted, often unconsciously to ourselves, by the^ influ-
ence of this powerful principle. And it is in this way,
partly at least, that generation is connected with genera-
tion ; that the torch of experience, lighted in the prece-
ding age, is made to shed its beams over that which fol-
lows ; and that society, kept in the vicinity of the beaten
track, is not subject to sudden and disastrous convulsions.
We would merely add, if this principle has such vast
influence, as we have no doubt that it has, it is incum-
bent on every one carefully to consider the nature and
tendency of the example which he sets. He who sets a
bad example, either in domestic or in public life, is not
only blasted and withered in himself, but almost necessa-
rily leads on in his train a multitude of others to the same
results of degradation and ruin. On the contrary, he who
does good in his day and generation, infuses, whether he
designs it or not, the effulgej^ce of his example into a
multitude of hearts which nature has opened for its i-e-
ception ; and thus, with better and higher results, hghts
them upward to happiness and glory.
344 PROPENSITIES.
^ 328. Of the natural desire of esteem.
Another important propensity, not resolvable into any
thing- else, but original, and standing on its own basis, ia
the desire of esteem. — In proof of the natural and original
existence of this principle in the human mind, we are a1
li})erty to appeal, as in the case of all the other propensi-
ties, to what we notice in the beginnings of life, and the
first dev elopements of the mental nature. Before children
are capable of knowing the advantages which result from
the good opinion of others, they are evidently mortified
at expressions of neglect or contempt, and as evidently
pleased with expressions of regard and approbation. As
it is impossible satisfactorily to account for this state of
things on the ground of its being the result of reasoning,
experience, or interest, the only explanation left is, that
chis desire is a part of the connatural and essential furni-
ture of the mind.
(11.) We may remark further, that the desire of esteem
is found to exist very extensively and strongly in the more
advanced periods of life. If we look at the history of
nations and of individuals, how many men do we find
who have been willing to sacrifice their life rather than
forfeit the favourable opinion of others ! When they have
lost all besides, their health, their fortune, and friends,
they cling with fondness to their good name ; they point
triumphantly to their unsullied reputation as a consolation
in *^!^eir present adversities, and the pledge of better things
in time to come. This is especially true of those periods
in the history of nations, when the original sentiments and
traits of the people have not been corrupted by the intro-
duction of the arts of luxury and refinement.
(III.) There is this consideration also, which has a
bearing upon this topic— We are sometimes in such a sit-
uation, that the favourable or unfavourable opinion of
others can have no possible bearing, so far as we can
judge, on our own personal interests. And further than
this, the unfavourable sentiment which we suppose to ex-
ist is not responded to in a single instance out of the
particular circle of those who indulge it. It exists there,
and there alone ; without the possibility of affecting in-
juriously either our property or general reputation. And
PROPENSITIES. 345
yet it is difficult for us not to be affected unpleasantly;
we feel as if the intentions of nature had been violated ;
as if some real wrong had been done us ; as if we had
been deprived of that which is obviously a right. — If this
view of the subject is correctly stated, as we have reason
to think it is, it goes strongly against the doctrine that
the desire of esteem is based upon personal and interest-
ed considerations, and not upon the intrinsic nature of the
mind.
. (IV.) It is an additional proof in favour of the natu-
ral origin of this propensity, that it operates strongly in
reference to the future. We not only wish to secure the
good opinion of others at the present time, and in refer-
ence to present objects, but are desirous that it should be
permanent, whether we shall be in a situation directly to
experience any good effects from it or not. Even after
we are dead, although we shall be utterly separated, both
from the applauses and the reprobations of men, still we
wish to be held in respectful and honourable remem-
brance. Fully convinced as w^e are that no human voice
shall ever penetrate and disturb the silence of our tombs,
the thought would be exceedingly distressing to us if we
anticipated that our memories would be calumniated.
We may attempt to reason on the folly of such feelings,
but w^e find it impossible to annul the principles planted
within us, and to stifle the voice of nature speaking in
the breast.
^ 329. Of the desire of esteem as a rule of conduct.
The operation of this principle, when kept within its
due and appropriate limits, is favourable to human hap-
piness. It begins to operate at a very early period of life,
long before the moral principles have been fully brought
out and established ; and it essentially promotes a decency
and propriety of deportment, and stimulates to exertion.
Whenever a "young man is seen exhibiting an utter disre-
gard of the esteem and approbation of others, the most
unfavourable anticipation m^ be formed of him; he
has annihilated one of the greatest restraints on an evil
course which a kind Providence has implanted within us,
and exposes himself to the hazard of unspeakable vice
346 PROPENSITIES.
and misery. It is narrated of Sylla, the Roman Dicta-
tor, that, on a certain occasion, happening to see Juhus
Csesar walking immodestly in the streets, he remarked
to those around him that he foresaw in that young man
many Mariuses; distinctly intimating, that a person so
destitute of regard for the feelings and opinions of others,
would be likely to take a course dictated by his sensuali-
ty or ambition, irrespective in a great degree of the ad-
monitions of conscience and of considerations of the pub-
lic good. A prediction founded in a knowledge of the
principles of human nature, and abundantly verified by
the result.
But while we distinctly recognise in the desire of
esteem an innocent and highly useful principle, we are
carefully to guard, on the other hand, against making the
opinion of others the sole and ultimate rule of our con-
duct. Temporary impulses and pecuhar local circum-
stances may operate to produce a state of public senti-
ment, to which a good man cannot conscientiously con-
form. In all cases where moral principles are involved,
there is another part of our nature to be consulted. In
the dictates of an enlightened Conscience, we find a code
to which not only the outward actions, but the appetites,
propensities, and affections, are amenable, and which in-
fallibly prescribes the limits of their just exercise. To
obey the suggestions of the desire of esteem, in opposi
tion to the requisitions of conscience, would be to sub-
vert the order of the mental constitution, and to transfer
the responsibility of the supreme command to a mere
sentinel of the outposts.
^ 330. Of the desire of possession.
We aro so constituted, that we naturally and necess*
rily have not only a knowledge of objects, but of a mul-
titude of relations which they sustain. And, among other
things, we very early form a notion of the relation of
POSSESSION. There are but few suggestions of the intel-
lect with which the mind forms so early an acquaintance
as with this. Whenever we see children, as we constant-
ly do, contendir^^ with each other for the occupancy of
1 chair or the control of a rattle, we may be assured that
PROPENSITIES. 347
they have distinctly formed the idea of po«i«<ession. They
know perfectly well what it is, although they cannot de-
fine it, and may possibly not be able to ffive a name to
it Although there can, in reality, be no actual posses-
sion without involving the existence of a relation, since
the fact or actuality of possession implies, on the one
hand, an object which is possessed, and on the other a
possessor ; nevertheless, as the notion or idea of posses-
sion exists suggestively and abstractly in the mind, it is
to be regarded as a single and definite object, distinctly
perceptible in the mind's eye, and sustaining the same re-
lation to the sensibilities as any other object or relation,
either mental or material, which is susceptible of being
intellectually represented. Of possession, as thus ex-
plained, existing as it were distinctly projected and im-
bodied in the light of the mental vision, all men appear
to have a natural or implanted desire. The fact of its
existence, either actual or possible, is revealed in the in-
tellect ; and the heart, with an instinctive impulse, cor-
responds to the perception of the intellect by yielding its
complacency and love.
^ 331. Of the moral character of the possessory principle.
Although the desire of possession (the possessory prin-
ciple, or propension, as it might be conveniently temied)
has undoubtedly, like the other propensities, its instinctive
action, yet its morality, that is to say, its moral character,
depends wholly upon the features of its voluntary action.
We are not disposed to speak, as some on a slight ex-
amination might be inclined to do, of the possessory prin-
ciple as being, in a moral sense, an unmixed evil. So far
as its action may be regulated, either in the form of re-
straint or of encouragement, by reason, reflection, and
the control, either direct or indirect, of the will, (all of
which is implied when we speak of its voluntary action,)
just so far it is capable of being either right or wrong,
rtprehensible or meritorious. When acting independent-
ly of all comparison and reflection, it assumes the form
of an instinct, is often in that form beneficial, and always
innocent*; when it usurps the authority due 1o other and
higher principles, prompting us to look with an evil eye
348 PROPENSITIES.
on the rightful possessions of another, and to grasp with
an earnest and unholy seizure what does not belong to
us> it becomes vicious ; when, on the other hand, its ac-
tion is the reverse of all this, prompted by ipright mo-
tives, and adhering strictly to the line of re.;titude, it is
to be regarded as virtuous.
We apprehend it is impossible even to conceive of a
being so far elevated in the scale of perception and feel-
ing as to involve moral accountability, which shall be
constituted on the principle of an entire exclusion of the
possessory desire. If it desires its own existence and
happiness, which we suppose to be a trait essential to
every rational and accountable creature, it seems to fol-
low, as a matter of course, that it will desire those attri-
butes and gifts which are conducive to the preservation
and perfection of such existence and happiness. What
sin can there possibly be in desiring to expand the range
of that existence, which in itself is such an invaluable
good, provided it be done with a suitable regard to the
relations and the claims of all other beings ! So far
from being a sin, it is, and must be, a duty. If it be not
so, what shall be said of those passages of the Apostle
Paul, not to mention other parts of Scripture of a similar
import, where he directs the Corinthians not only to
" covet to prophesy," but in general terms, " to coYel
earnestly the best gifts;" 1 Cor. xii., 31; xiv., 39.
^ 332. Of perversions of the possessory desire.
Although the propensity in question is susceptible, bj
possibility at least, of a virtuous exercise, there is too
much reason to believe that its ordinary action is a per-
verted and vicious one. It is a great law of the mind,
that the repetition of the exercise of the active principles
increases their strength ; and as the occasions of the ex-
ercise of the possessory principle are very numerous, it is
the almost unavoidable result that it becomes inordinate-
ly strong. When this is the case, the otherwise innocent
desire of possession assumes the form of the sin of Cov-
etousness ; a term which is universally understood to ex-
press an eagerness and intensity of acquisition that presses
upon the domain of some other active principles, and is
PROPENSITIES. 349
at variance with some of the claims of duty. This is un-
doubtedly one of the great sins which attach to human
nature ; too prevalent, it is to be feared, in the heart of
every individual ; and which receives in all parts of the
Scriptures a decided and solemn rebuke.
When the possessory principle becomes, by further rep-
etition, increased in the intensity of its action, it assumes
* the still more aggravated and guilty form of Avarice. In
this form it not only loses that character of innocence
which it originally possessed, but becomes exceedingly
loathsome "land abhorrent in the unperverted eye of moral
purity.
§ 333. Of the desire of power.
Another of the original propensities is the desire of
Power. — In regard to power, it is hardly necessary to say,
that it is not an object directly addressed to, or cogniza-
ble by, the senses ; but it is an attribute of mind, and is
made known to us by an act of the Internal intellect;
that is to say, of the intellect operating independently of
a direct connexion with the senses. We do not see pow-
er as we see and extended object ; nor do w^e touch it,
nor is it an object of the taste or smell ; but it is revealed
to the mind by an act of Original Suggestion, on the oc-
casions appropriate to that species of mental action. But,
although it is not cognizable by the senses, it is as much
a reality, as much an object of emotion and desire, ais if
that were the case. It stands out as distinctly perceptible
to the mind's eye, as an extended and coloured body does
to the bodily eye. This being thfe case, we may, with en-
tire propriety of language, speak of the desire of power ;
for wherever there is an object, that object may, in pos-
sibility at least, be desired ; but where there is no object
before the mind, it is not possible for desire to exist.
These remarks are preparatory to what we have now
to say, viz., that the desire of power is natural to the hu-
•man mind ; in other words, ^lat the desire of power is
an original principle of the mind. — In support of this
view, which may perhaps fail at first sight to commend
itself to the reception of the reader, the first remark we
have to make is, that power in its own nature is a thing
Gg
350 PROPENSITIES.
desirable. It cannot be doubted that power is in fact,
and is to be regarded as, an essential attribute of all
mental being. — Accordingly, if an intellectual and sen-
tient existence is desirable, then power is desirable also, as
being necessarily involved in such existence. The desire
of existence, by common acknowledgment, is natural to
us ; the desire of happiness is natural also ; and since
there can be neither the one nor the other without power,
it seems reasonable to think that the desire of power is
essential to, and is implanted in, our nature.
There are various circumstances, obvious to every one's
notice, which go to confirm this view of the subject.
" The infant," says Mr. Stewart, " while still on the
breast, delights in exerting its little strength on every ob-
ject it meets with, and is mortified when any accident
convinces it of its own imbecility. The pastimes of the
boy are, almost without exception, such as suggest to him
the idea of 'power. When he throws a stone or shoots
an arrow, he is pleased with being able to produce an ef-
fect at a distance from himself; and while he measures
with his eye the amplitude or range of his missile weapon,
contemplates with satisfaction the extent to which his
power has reached. It is on a similar principle that he
loves to bring his strength into comparison with that of
his fellows, and to enjoy the consciousness of superior
prowess."
$ 334. Of the moral character of the desire of power.
If it be true that the desire of power is connatural to
the human mind, it wilf probably be found, like other
analogous principles, to possess a twofold action, instinct-
ive and VOLUNTARY. So far as its action is instinctive,
we may suppose it to be innocent at least, and probably
useful. So far as it is voluntary, the virtue or vice which
attaclies to it will depend upon its regulation. If it be
kept in subordination to the dictates of an enlightened
conscience, and to the feelings and duties we owe to the
Supreme Being, its exercise is virtuous. If, on the con-
trary, it acquires inordinate strength, as it is very likely to
do, and is excessive in its operation, pushing us forward
to the pursuit of forbidden objects and the invasion (/
other's rights, it then becomes vicious.
PROPENSITIES. 361
When the desire of power becomes excessive, and ex-
ists and operates as a leading and predominant principle,
we commonly denominate it Ambition. He who is un-
der the influence of ambition, desires power; not because
it assimilates him to his Maker, not because it affords him
the increased means of usefulness, nor for any other rea-
son which commends itself to a strictly virtuous mind ;
but simply because it administers to the gratification of
an unrestrained and insatiable selfishness.
{) 335. Propensity of self-love, or the desire of happiness.
We proceed to explore this part of our sensitive naturel
still further, by adding, that the desire of enjoyment or
happiness appears to be an original or connatural element
of the mental constitution. No one will presume to as-
sert that the desire of suffering is natural ; that we ordi-
.narily rejoice in the prospect of coming woes, and endure
them with gladness of heart. Nor are there satisfactory
grounds for the opinion that enjoyment and suffering are
indifferent to the human mind, and that there is no choice
to be had between them. Such a supposition would be
contrary to the common experience and the most obvi-
ous facts. On the contrary, our own consciousness and
what we witness in others effectually teach us, that the
desire of happiness is as natural as that of knowledge or
esteem, and even hardly less so, than it is to desire food
and drink when we experience the uneasy sensations of
hunger and thirst.
Under the instigation and guidance of this strong pro-
pensity, men not only flee from present evil and cling to
present happiness, but, foreseeing the events of the fu-
ture, they prepare raiment and houses, fill their grana-
ries, in anticipation of a day of want, and take other
measures for the prolonging of life, health, and comfort.
It is kindly provided that they are not left, in taking pre-
cautions subservient to their preservation and well-being,
^ the suggestions and the law of reason alone, but are
guided and kept in action by this decisive and perma-
nent principle. And it is proper to add, that this desire
operates not only in reference to outward and bodily com-
forts, but also in relation to inward consolations, the in-
352 PROPENSITIES.
spirations and solaces of religion in the present life, and
tiEie anticipated possession of that more glorious happiness
which religious faith attaches to a future state of exist-
ence.
. But it should ever be remembered, that the desire of
our own xiappiness, like the other desires which have been
mentioned, ought to be subjected to a suitable regulation.
An enlightened conscience will explain under what con-
ditions our personal welfare may be pursued, and in what
cases, whether it relate to the present or the future, it
should be subordinated to considerations of public bene-
fit and of universal benevolence.
^ 336. Of selfishness as distinguished from self-love.
We cannot but suppose, for the reasons that have just
been suggested, that the desire of happiness or propensi-
ty of personal good is an attribute of man's nature.
This opinion is not only accordant with the suggestions
of the light of nature, but is sanctioned by other and
higher authority. The pursuit of our own happiness is
obviously recognised in the Scriptures, and is urged upon
us as a duty. While we are required to love our neigh-
bour, it i$| nowhere said that we must perform this duty
to the exclusion of a suitable regard for our own felicity.
— The desire of happiness thus implanted in our own
constitution, we denominate by a simple and expressive
term, self-love. But it cannot be denied that the im-
port of the term is frequently misunderstood, and that the
term itself is liable to erroneous applications.
This is owing to the fact that the principle is not al
ways, and perhaps we should say, is not generally regu
lated and restrained, as it ought to be ; but frequently de-
generates into a perversion which ought to be carefully
distinguished from its innocent exercise. It is not self-
love, but the perversion of self-love, which is properly
called SELFISHNESS ; and while self-love is always inno-
cent, and, under proper regulations, is morally commenda-
ble, as being the attribute of a rational nature, and as be-
ing approved by God himself, selfishness, on the con-
trary, is always sinful, as existing in violation of what is
due to others, and at variance with the wdll of God. — It
PROPENSITIES. 353
IS due to the cause of morals and religion, as well as ot
sound philosophy, to make this important distinction.
Self-]t)ve is the principle which a holy God has given ;
selfishness is the loathsome superstructure which man,
in the moments of his rebellion and sin, has erected
upon it.
^ 337. Reference to the opinions of philosophical writers.
It would be easy to introduce passages in support of
the greater part of the views of this chapter, if it were
deemed necessary, from writers whose opinions are receiv-
ed with deference, and are justly entitled to be so. It
appears from the recent work of Dr. Chalmers on the
Moral and Intellectual Constitution of Man, that he re-
gards the desire of possession (the possessory principle, as
it may conveniently be designateci) as connatural to the
human mind. (Vol. i., ch. vi., § 8 — 13.) Mr. Stewart
takes the same view in regard to the principle of self-love,
or the desire of" happiness. (Active and Moral Powers,
bk. ii., chap, i.) On this important subject, which in
some of its aspects is closely connected with the requisi-
tions and appeals of revealed religion, we find the follow-
ing expKcit statement in Dr. Wardlaw's recently publish-
ed treatise, entitled Christian Ethics.
" Self-love is an essential principle in the constitution
of every intelligent creature; meaning by self-love the
desire of its own preservation and well-being. By no ef-
fort of imagination can we fancy to ourselves such a crea-
ture constituted without this. It is an original law in the
nature of every sentient existence. In man, it is true, in
regard especially to the sources from which it has sought
its gratification, it is a principle which, since his fall, has
been miserably perverted and debased, degenerating, in
ten thousand instances, into utter selfishness, and in all
partaking of this unworthy taint. Between selfishness,
however, and legitimate self-love, there is an obvious and
wide discrepancy. The latter ^s not at all distinctive of
our nature as degenerate, but was interwoven in its very
texture as it came from the Creator's hand. The former
is proper y the corruption of the latter. It leads the crea-
ture, whc is under its dominant influence, to prefer self to
Gg2
354 PROPENSITIES.
fellow-creatures and to God, so as to seek its own real or
supposed advantage at the expense of the interests and
the honour of both. So far, on the contrary, is self-love
from being unwarrantable, that, in that part of God's law
which prescribes our feeling and conduct towards our fel-
low-creatures, it is assumed as the standard measure of
the commanded duty, * Thou shalt love thy neighbour as
THYSELF.' Take away self-love, or suppose it possible that
the human heart should be divested of it, and you anni-
hilate the command by rendering it unintelligible.
" There is not, assuredly, any part of the divine word,
by which we are required, in any circumstances, to divest
ourselves of this essential principle in our constitution.
That word, on the contrary, is full of appeals to it, under
every diversity of form. Such are all its threatenings,
all its promises, all its invitations."
^ 338. The principle of sociality original in the human mind.
Sociality, or the desire of society, is another of the im-
planted propensities. Men naturally (not moved to it
primarily by the influences of education or considerations
of interest, but of themselves and naturally) have a de-
sire of the company or society of their fellow-men ; a
tendency of the mind, expressed by the single term so-
ciality or SOCIABILITY. — We are aware that the desire of
society, as well as some of the other original propensions,
has sometimes been regarded, as a mere modification of
Self-love. It is the fact, however, that, in its first opera-
tion, the desire of society acts instinctively, being directed
to its object as an ultimate end, wholly irrespective of
any pleasure which may subsequently be found attached
to its attainment. It is one of the characteristics of De-
sire, as we have already seen, that the attainment of its
object is attended with more or less pleasure. And this
is as true of the successful issue of the principle of So-
ciality as of any other principle, involving as a part of
its nature the desiring element. Accordingly, after the
experience of pleasure attendant upon its successful exer-
cise, even in a single instance, it is possible that its sub-
sequent action may be prompted rather by a regard to the
concon^itant enjoyment than to the object which origi-
PROPENSITIES. 356
nally called it forth. S\ich an exercise of the principle
under consi Jeration may, with sornt appearance of pro-
priety, be" termed a selfish one ; but this is rather a sec-
ondary than an original exercise ; and does not so much
indicate what the principle is by nature, as what it may
become by subordinate or by perverting influences. In it'>
self considered, it is innocent and highly useful ; it may,
indeed, after its first exercise, be indulged from a regard
to personal or self-interested considerations; that is to
say, from a regard to our own happiness or pleasure ; but
even the exercise of the principle from such considerations
is not to be regarded, as some may suppose, as morally
wrong, provided it is so regulated as not to conflict with
the proper operation of other principles and with the
claims of duty
<J 339. Evidence of the existence of this principle of sociality.
(I.) The existence of the propensity under considera-
tion is shown, in the first place, by what we notice in the
early periods of life. No one is ignorant that infants and
very young children exhibit a strong attachment to their
parents and others who tend upon them, and a desire for
their company and uneasiness at their absence. When
left alone, even for a very short time, they discover a
great degree of unhappiness, which may sometimes be
ascribed to fear, but more often to the mere sense of lone-
liness, and the desire for society.
When other infants and children are brought into their
company whom they have never seen before, this propen-
sity is at once shown in their- smiles, their animated ges-
tures, and sparkling eyes. And when they are old
enough to go out and play in the streets, we find them
almost always in groups. Their sports, their wanderings
in fields and forests, their excursions in fishing and hunt-
ing, are all made in companies; and the privilege of
amusing themselves in these ways, on the condition of
n<ft being allowed the attendance of others, would be
deemed scarcely better than a punishment.
(II.) In the second place, this propensity, which showi
itself with so much strength in children, continues to ex-
ist, and to give interesting and decisive proofs of its ex
356 PROPENSITIES.
istence, in manhood and age. It is tiiie, that those who
are further advanced in years, from the circumstance of
their finding greater resources in themselves, are in gen«
eral more capable of supporting retirement and solitude
than children. But it is very evident, in the maturity as
well as in the earher periods of life, that man's proper
tJement (that in which alone he can secure the devel-
opement of his powers and be happy) is society, in some
shape and in some degree. Hence the frequency of fam-
ily meetings, of social and convivial parties, of commem-
orative celebrations, of religious, literary, and political
assemblies, which constantly occur in all communities
throughout the world, and which seem to be almost as
necessary as the air they breathe or their daily food.
^ 340. Other illustrations of the existence of this principle.
So strong is this principle, that men, if deprived of hu-
man society, will endeavour to satisfy its demands by
forming a species of intimacy w^ith the lower animals ; a
circumstance which seems to us decisively to evince not
only the innate existence, but the great strength of the
social tendency. Baron Trenck, for instance, in order tc
alleviate the wretchedness of his long and dreadful im-
prisonment, made the attempt, and was successful in it, to
tame a mouse. The mouse, according to his account of
him, would not only play around him and eat from his
hand, but discovered extraordinary marks of sagacity as
well as of attachment.
Mr. Stewart, in illustrating this very subject, makes the
following statement. — " The Count de Lauzun .was confi-
ned by Louis XIV. for nine years in the Castle of Pigne-
rol, in a small room where no light could enter but from
a chink in the roof. In this solitude he attached himself
to a spider, and contrived for some time to amuse him-
self in attempting to tame it, with catching flies for its
siipport, and with superintending the progress of its web.
The jailer discovered his amusement and killed the spi-
der ; and the count used afterw^ard to declare, that the
pang he felt on the occasion could be compared only to
that of a mother for the loss of a child."
More recently we find statements of a similar purport
PROPENSITIES. 357
ii» the interesting little work of Silvio Pellico, which gives
an account of his Ten Years' Imprisonment. — " Being al-
most deprived of human society," he remarks, " I one day
made acquaintance with some ants upon my window ; I
fed them ; they went away, and, ere long, the place was
thronged with these little insecte, as if come by invitation.
A spider, too, had weaved a noble edifice upon my walls,
and I often gave him a feast of gnats and flies, which
were extremely annoying to me, and which he liked much
better than I did. I got quite accustomed to the sight of
him ; he would run over my bed, and come and take the
precious morsels out of my hand."
On a certain occasion, after having been visited by
some one who took a more than usual interest in his situ-
ation, he exclaims, " How strange, how irresistible is the
desire of the solitary prisoner to behold some one of his
own species !, It amounts to almost a sort of instinct, as
if to prevent insanity, and its usual consequence, the ten-
dency to self-destruction. The Christian religion, so
abounding in views of humanity, forgets not to enumerate
among its works of mercy the visiting of the prisoner.
The mere aspect of man, his look of commiseration, his
willingness, as it were, to share with you, and bear a part
of your heavy burden, even when you know he cannot
relieve you, has something that sweetens your bitter cup."
(j 341. Relation of the social principle to civil society.
It is on such considerations that we maintain the prin-
ciple which has now been the subject of examination, to
be connatural to the human mind. If men are frequently
found in a state of contention, jealous of each other's ad-
vancement, and seeking each other's injury, we are not
to regard this as their natural position, but rather as the
result, in many cases at least, of misapprehension. If they
understood, in every case, the relative position of those
with whom they contend, and especially, if they were free
fr^m all unfavourable influenced from those who happen
to be placed in positions of authority, the great mass of
mankind would find the principle of sociality successfully
asserting its claims against those causes of compulsion
and strife which, for various reasons, too often exist
358 THE MAL1.V0LENT AFFECTIONS.
In concluding this subject, we may properly revert a
moment to the strange notion of Mr. Hobbes, and those
who think with him, that man is kept in society only by
the fear of what he significantly calls the Leviathan ; that
is to say, of Civil Society in the exercise of force. These
writers give us to understand, that it is the chain, the
sword, and the fagot, which sustains the uniformity of
the social position. We have no doubt that Civil Gov-
ernment, in its proper administration, has a favourable
effect, even in the exercise of force. But, at the same
time, it is a great and important fact, that Civil Society
has a different, and, in all respects^a better foundation
than this. It is based on the constitution of the mind it-
self; on the unfaihng operations of the social principle
It is true that the tendencies of this principle are some-
times temporarily annulled by counteracting and adverse
influences ; but the principle itself is never, in a sound
mind, perfectly extinguished. There is philosophical
truth, as w^ell as poetical beauty, in the well-known ex-
pressions of Cowper :
, *' Man in society is like a flower
Blown in his native bed ; 'tis there alone
His faculties, expanded in full bloom,
Shine out ; there only reach their proper use."
CHAPTER V.
THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
^ 342. Of the comparative rank of the aflfections.
It will be recollected, after some general remarks on
the Nature of desire, we proposed to prosecute the ex-
amination of what may be called, in distinction frcm the
emotive, the desirous portion of the Pathematic sensibili-
ties, under the subordinate heads of the Instincts, the Ap-
petites, the Propensities, and the Affections. Having ex-
amined, so far as seemed to be necessary for our purpose,
the three first divisions, we are now prepared to proceed
to the last
THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS 359
The Affections are distinguished from the other fomis
of the desirous or propensive nature, besides other subor-
dinate marks or characteristics which will naturally pre-
sent themselves to our notice as they come separately
under examination, in being, in the first place, more
complex, and also by the circumstance of their sustaining
a higher place in the graduation of our esteem and hon-
our. —It may be difficult to explain how it happens, but
it is unquestionably the fact, that there is a difference in
the sentiments of esteem with which we contemplate dif-
ferent parts of our nature; some being regarded with
higher, and some with less honour. In the graduation of
our regard, it appears to be the fact, that we generally
estimate the appetites as, in some degree, higher than the
instincts, and the propensities as higher than either. To
the Affections, especially the Benevolent affections, which
occupy, in our estimation, a still more* elevated position,
we look with increased feelings of interest. They obvi-
ously stand at the head of the list ; and when we shall
have completed their examination, nothing more will re-
main to be said on the regular or ordinary action of the
Natural Sensibilities. — We shall then be at liberty to pro-
ceed to another and still more important class* of subjects
^ 343. Of the complex nature of the affections.
The Affections, unlike the Appetites and Propensities
as they exist in their primitive or original developement,
are not simple states of mind, but complex. Accordingly,
the term affection denotes a state of mind, of which it is
indeed true that some simple emotion is always a part,
but which differs from any single simple emotion in being
combined wdth some form of that state of the mind called
DESIRE. "As to every sort of passion," says Kaimes,
" we find no more in the composition but an emotion,
pleasant or painful, accompa«ied with desire."
The affections are susceptible of being divided, although
i^ may not be, in all respects, «asy to carry the arrange-
ment into effect in its 'detail, into the two classes of Be-
nevolent and Malevolent. The malevolent affections, as
a general thing, include a painful emotion, accompanied
with a desire of evil to the unpleasant object The be-
360 THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
nevolent affections, on the contrary, include, for the most
part, a pleasant emotion, accompanied with the desire of
good to the p'leasing object. But what distinguishes and
characterizes the two classes, is probably not so much the
nature of the emotion as the desire of good or evil which
attends it. — It is on the basis of this division that we pro-
pose to proceed in the examination of this subject.
It is proper to remark here, that the term passions, id
conformity with the authorized usage of language, is sus-
ceptible of being employed as entirely synonymous wuth
AFFECTIONS. lu this scnsc we shall sometimes have occa-
sion to use it ; although it is frequently the case that it is
employed also as expressive, not merely of the existence
of the affections, but as implying their existence in a raised
or eminent degree.
() 3'44. Of resentment or anger.
The first of the malevolent affections which we pro-
pose to consider (that which may be termed the founda-
tion or basis of all the others) is Resentment or Anger.
This affection, like all others, is of a complex nature, in-
volving an unpleasant or painful emotion, accompanied
with the desire of inflicting unpleasantness or pain on the
object towards which it is directed. In its original or
natural state, the desire appears to be, to some extent,
the counterpart of the emotion ; that is to say, having
experienced an unpleasant or painful emotion, in conse-
quence of the actual or supposed ill conduct of others, we
naturally desire, in the exercise of the Resentment arising
under such circumstances, a corresponding retribution of
pain on the offending agent. But in saying that they
are reciprocally counterparts, we do not feel at liberty to
assert, although there seem to be grounds for such a sug-
gestion, that they possess to each other a precise and exact
correspondence.
There are various modifications of Resentment, so dis-
tinct from each other as easily to ^dmit of a separate no-
tice and to be entitled to a distinct name, such as Peevish-
ness, Jealousy, and Revenge. These will be considered,
although in as brief a manner as possible, in their proper
place. It is necessary to remark a little more at length
THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS 361
npon the passion now before us, which may be regarded
as in some important sense the foundation and the place
of origin to all f^e others.
^ 345. Illustrations of instinctive resentment.
The A-FFECTiONs, agreeing in this respect with what has
been said of the Appetites and Propensities, have a two-
fold action, instinctive and voluntary ; operating, in the
one case, suddenly and without thought ; in the other,
operating on reflection and with deliberate purpose of
mind. — Accordingly, we proceed to remark, in the first
place, on the instinctive form of resentment. The occa-
sions on which this form of resentment arises or is liable
Vo arise, are all cases of harm or suffering, whether such
harm or suffering be caused intentionally or not. The
harm which we experience is followed by the resentment
at once ; the rapidity of the retributive movement may be
compared to that of a flash of lightning ; quick as the
operation of thought is universally allowed to be, there is
no opportunity for its interposition between the harm
which has been experienced and the resentment that fol-
lows. Under such circumstances it is, of course, impos-
sible that the resentment should be regulated by the con-
sideration whether the hurt which we have experienced
was intentional or not. It is the harm, in itself consider-
ed, which arouses us, exclusive of any reference to the
cirumstances under which it is inflicted.
We not unfrequently see instances of instinctive resent-
ment corresponding to what has been said. Tt is under
the influence of this form of resentment that the child who
has been accidentally hurt by a stone or a billet of wood,
wreaks a momentary anger upon the inanimate object ;
that the Savage breaks and fiercely tramples on the ar-
row which has wounded him ; and that men, in the firet
moments of their suffering, almost universally discover a
sudden and marked displeasure with the cause of it.
^ 346. Uses and moral charactcT of instinctive resentment.
The object (or final cause, as it is sometimes termed)
for which the principle of instinctive resentment is im-
planted in man, seems to be to furnish him with a degree
H H
THE' MALEVOLENT AFFfiCTIONS.
of protection in the case of sudden and unforeseen attacks.
The reasoning power is comparatively slow in its opera-
tion ; and if the constitution of our natffre were such as
to require us always to w^ait for its results before acting,
we might, in some cases, fail of that protection which an
mstinctive effort would have given. Hence the practical
importance of this form of the principle under considera-
tion.
It may be added, that instinctive resentment has no
moral character. It is the glory of the moral nature, that
it lays back, if we may be allowed the expressions, of the
intellective nature ; and that it does not, and cannot,
act independently of the antecedent action, to a greater
or less extent, of the intellect. In other words, the na-
ture of conscience is such as to require as the basis of its
action a knowledge of the thing and its relations, upon
which it is about to pronounce its opinion ; which knowl-
edge can be acquired only by the perceptive and compa-
ring acts of the intellect. But such is the rapidity of
instinctive action, that it entirely excludes a suitable
knowledge of the event which calls it forth; and as it in
this way excludes the cognizance and authority of con-
science, it cannot be said to have a moral character, either
good or evil.
^ 347. Of voluntary in distinction from instinctive resentment.
The second, and, in a practical and moral point of
view, the more important form of this affection is what
may be denominated Voluntary Resentment. By inqui-
ring into the cause of the resentment which we have in-
stinctively experienced, and by suggesting reasons either
for its increase or diminution, we are enabled to modify
its action, and to impart to it the character of voluntari
ness and accountability.
The proper occasion of deliberate or Voluntary, in dis-
tinction from instinctive Resentment, is injury, as it stands
distinguished from mere harm or hurt. That is to say,
Voluntary resentment, when exercised in accordance with
the intentions of nature, takes into view, not only the harm
or suffering which has been occasioned, b at the motive oi
intention of the agent. The final cause or object of in-
THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
stincti^e resentment is immediate protection ; nor does it
appear to have anything further in view. The final cause
of voluntary resentment is not only protection, but justice
In other words, while it aims to secure protection, it does
not propose the attainment of that object, except in con-
formity with what is strictly proper and right. It al-
ways, therefore, in its appropriate and legitimate exercise,
dispenses its retribution, not simply with a reference to
the harm, loss, or suffering which has been endured, but
chiefly with reference to the feehngs which at the time
existed in the mind of the agent or cause of the suffering.
A moral character, accordingly, attaches only to the
voluntary form of resentment. If there is an exact pro-
portion between the resentment and its cause ; in other
words, if resentment precisely corresponds to what justice
requires^ it is right. But if it exceeds this just proportion,
it is wrong. This statement is made on the supposition
that we are considering the subject by the mere aid of
the light of nature, exclusively of the Scriptures. If, un-
der the Christian dispensation, we are required, for high
and holy reasons peculiar to that dispensation, to subdue
resentful feelings which otherwise might have been justly
exercised, that circumstance evidently places the subject
in a difierent light. .»
§ 348. Tendency of anger to excess, and the natural checks to it.
Few principles are more operative in man, in point ot
fact, than that of resentment. And although, reasoning
on the principles of nature merely, without taking into
view the duty of forgiveness inculcated in the Scriptures,
we may justify its deliberate and voluntary exercise in
many cases, it must be admitted, on the whole, that it is
particularly liable to a perverted and excessive action. It
IS too frequently the fact, that man is found wreaking his
anger on those who, on a full and candid examination of
all the circumstances of the case, would be found entitled
tolio such treatment. ••
One cause of the frequency of excessive and unjustifi-
able resentment is to be found in the fact, that, in conse-
quence of the suffering or loss we endure, our thouglits
are wholly taken up with our own situation, and we find
364 THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
It very r ifficult to estimate properly either the facts or
the motives vi our supposed adversary's conduct. If we
could turn away our thoughts from ourselves, so far as
fully to understand all the circumstances of a proceeding
which, in itself considered, we have found so injurious tc
us, we should frequently be ^villing to check the vehe-
mence of our anger, if M^e did not wholly extinguish it.
Nature, however, has herself instituted some checks on
the undue exercise of this passion. — First. The exercise
of this passion is, in its very nature, painful. It is in this
respect very different from the exercise of the benevolent
affections, which is pleasant. So great is the pain at-
tendant upon deliberate and protracted anger, that it is
not uncommon to hear persons assert that they have them-
selves endured more suffering in their own minds than
the gratilication of their passions has caused to their op-
ponents. Nature seems to have attached this penalty to
the exercise of this passion, in order to remind men, at
the most appropriate moment, of the necessity of keeping
it in due subjection.
Second. Whenever our resentment passes the proper
bounds, the feelings of the community, which were be-
fore in our favour, immediately turn against us. We are
so constituted that we naturally desire the good opinion
of others ; and, consequently, the loss of their good opin-
ion operates upon us as a punishment, and not unfrequent-
ly a severe one. Under the influence of the experience
or the anticipation of this incidental retribution, it is not
unfrequently the case, that men restrict within proper
Dounds those angry feelings, which, under other circum-
stances, they would probably have indulged to excess.
Third. The tendency of the indulgence of anger is to
lower a man in his own estimation, and still more so in
the estimation of others, who will be less ready to admit
those mitigating circumstances that partially justify his
feelings to himself The mere outward signs of the an-
gry passions give a shock to our sensibilities, and are
hateful to us ; while those of an opposite character beam
upon the soul with the pleasantness of a tranquil morn-
ing's light. The smile of benevolence wins upon our
affections; brit the scowl of anger, whether it be directed
THE MALEVOLENl AFFECTIONS. 365
against ourselves or others, fills us with pain and dread.
And, moreover, while the indulgence o£ anger tends, as a
general thing, to degrade the subject of it in our view,
we look with increased respect and honour on those who
successfully resist ifs approaches, and are calm and for-
bearing amid insult and injury.
^ 349. Other reasons for checking and subduing the angry passions.
In addition to those checks to the angry passions which
nature herself seems to have furnished, it may be proper
to mention a few considerations, drawn from reason and
the Scriptures, which, if they have the w^eight ,they are
entitled to, will tend tn the same desirable result. — (1.)
We should always keep in recollection, in the first place,
.hat when the mind is much agitated by passion, it is ren-
dered by that circumstance itself incapable, to a consid-
erable degree, of correct judgment. Actions, considered
as the indications of feeling and character, do not at such
times appear to us in their true light. They are seen
through an unfavourable medium, and represented un-
niturally, with distorted and discoloured features. It is
said to have been a saying of Socrates to his servant on
a certain occasion, that he w^ould beat him if he were not
angry; a remark which seems to indicate that, in the
opinion of the author of it, anger is a state of mind unfa-
vourable to a correct judgment of the merit or demerit of
the person towards whom it is directed.
(2.) We should consider, in the second place, even if
we have no particular reason to distrust our powers of
judging, that w^e may, by possibility at least, have mista-
ken the motives of the person whom we imagine to have
injured us. Perhaps the oversight or crime which we
allege against him, instead of being premeditated or in-
tentional, was mere inadvertence. It is even possible that
Lis intentions were favourable to us, instead of being, as
we suppose, of a contrary character. And if it were oth
«"wise ; if the wrong done us jvere an intentional wrong,
it is still possible that this hostile disposition may have
originated from serious misconceptions in regard to our
own character and conduct. And obviously the easiest
and best w^ay would be to correct these misconceptionst
Hh2
366 THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
and thus to secure safety for the future, and, in all prob-
ability, recompense for the past.
(3.) There is another consideration which ought to
prevent the indulgence of this passion and to allay its
effects. It is, that all have offended against the Supreme
Being, and stand in need of pardon from Him. If we
ourselves were without sin ; if we could boast of perfect
purity of character, there might seem to be some degree
of reasonableness in our exacting from others the full
amount of what is due to perfect and inflexible rectitude.
Bat the actual state of things is far different from this.
Every ope who knows his own heart must see and feel
himself to be a transgressor. How unsuitably, therefore,
to the circumstances of his own situation, does that man
conduct who talks largely of satisfaction and revenge,
when he is every moment dependent, on the clemency
and forgiveness of a Being w^hom he has himself so often
sinned against.
In the fourth place, there are many passages of Scrip-
ture which expressly require us to subdue the malevolent
passions, and to forgive the injuries which have called
them into action. And this, we may here take occasion
to remark, is one of the great and striking characteristics
of the Gospel revelation. The doctrine, that we are to
love and do good to our enemies, obviously distinguishes
the Christian Code from every other ; and gives to it, as
compared with mere human systems, an inexpressible ele-
vation. Its language is, " Ye have heard, it hath been
said, thou shalt love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy.
But I say unto you, love your enemies ; bless them that
curse you ; do good to them that hate you, and pray for
them which despitefully use you and persecute you."
^350. Modifications of resentment. Peevishness.
When, in all ordinary cases, the resentful feeling shows
itself, we variously denominate it by the terms resentment,
hostility, anger, hatred, indignation, and the like ; but
there are some modifications of the feeling, distinguished
either by excess or diminution, or in some other way,
wdiich may be regarded as possessing a distinctive char-
acter. One of these is peevishness or fketfulness ; a
THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 367
species of malevolent passion which, probably with more
frequenc} than its decided manifestations, interrupts the
peace and happiness of life.
Peevishness differs from ordinary anger in being exci-
ted by very trifling circumstances, and in a strange facil-
ity of inflicting its effects on everybody • and everything
within its reach. The peevish man has met with some
trifling disappointment, (it matters but little what it is,)
and the serenity of whole days is disturbed ; no smiles
are to be seen ; everything, whether animate or inani-
mate, rational or irrational, is out of place, and falls under
the rebuke of this fretful beang. — Anger, in its most mark-
ed and decided manifestations, may be compared to a
thunder-shower, that comes dark and heavily, but leaves
a clear sky afterward. But peevishness is like an ob-
scure, drizzling fog ; it is less violent, and lasts longer.
In general, it is more unreasonable and unjust than vio-
lent anger, and would certainly be more disagreeable,
were it not often, in consequence of being so dispropor-
tioned to its cause, so exceedingly ludicrous.
4 351. Modifications of resentment. Envy.
One of the most frequent forms of resentment is Envy-
By this term we are accustomed to express that ill-will
or hatred which has its rise from the contemplation of the
superiority of another. Considered as a mere state of the
mind. Envy is to be regarded as only one of the perver-
sions of resentment ; but, considered in respect to the oc-
casions of its origin, it must be added that it is one of the
most degrading and hateful perversions. There is no
passion which is more tormenting in the experience, as
might be expected from its hatefulness ; and none which
is more decisively condemned by the sentiments of justice.
If we are asked why it is that, on the mere contem-
plation of the more favourable situation, and the greater
advancement of another, we experience such an odious
perversion of a principle apftprently good in itself, we
shall probably find a reason in the irregular and inordi-
nate action of the principle of Self-love. Men frequently
become so intensely selfish, that they cannot admit others
to an equal participation of what they enjoy, much less
368 THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
see them advanced to a higher situation, without a greater
or less degree of repining and discontent. And it is this
stifle of mind which is appropriately denominated Envy.
^ 352. Modifications of resentment. Jealousy.
There are stUl other varieties of that Resentment or
Ilostihty, which may be regarded, in some important
sense, as the basis of the whole series of the Malevolent
passions. Among these is Jealousy, which includes a
painful emotion caused by some object of love, and at-
tended with a desire of evil towards that object. — The
circumstance which characterises this passion, and consti-
tutes its peculiar trait, is, that all its bitterness and hostil-
ity are inflicted on some one whom the jealous person
loves. The feeling of suspiK^ious rivalship which often
exists between candidates for fame and power, is some-
times called jealousy, on account of its analogy to this
passion. — There are various degrees of jealousy, from the
forms of mere mistrust and watchful suspicion to its high-
est paroxysms. In general, the strength of the passion
will be found to be in proportion to the value which is
attached to the object of it ; and is, perhaps, more fre-
quently found in persons who have a large share of pride
than in others. Such, in consequence of the habitual be-
lief of their own superiority, are likely to notice many
trifling inadvertencies, and to treasure them up as proofs
of intended neglect, which would not have been observed
by others, and certainly were exempt from any evil in-
tention.
The person under the influence of this passion is inca-
pable of forming a correct judgment of the conduct of the
individual who is the object of it ; he observes everything
and gives it the worst interpretation ; and circumstances
which, in another state of the mind, would have been
tokens of innocence, are converted into proof of guilt
AM ough poetry, it is no fiction :
" Trifles, light as air,
Are to the jealous coiifirmaiion strong
As proofs of holy writ."
Hence it is justly said to be the monster that " makes
the meat it feeds on ;" for it perseveringly broods over
THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 369
the slightest suggestion, even when made with the most
sincere kindness, and rears up a shapeless and frightful
form, which in turn nourishes the baleful passion from
which is derived its own existence.
It may be remarked of this passion, that it is at times
exceedingly violent. At one moment the mind is ani-
mated with all the feelings of kindness ; the next, it is
transported with the strongest workings of hatred, and
(hen it is suddenly overwhelmed with contrition. Con-
tinually vacillating between the extremes of love and
hatred, it knows no rest ; it would gladly bring destruc-
tion on the object whom it dreads to lose more than any
other, and whom at times it loves more than any other.
4 353. Modifications of resentment. Revenge.
Another of the marked modifications of Resentment is
REVENGE. By the spirit of revenge, as we sometimes ex-
press it, we generally understand a disposition not mere-
ly to return suffering for suffering, but to inflict a degree
of pain on the person who is supposed to have injured us,
beyond what strict justice requires. So that revenge
seems to differ from resentment rather in degree than in
kind ; in other words, it is unrestrained or excessive re-
sentment. It is true, however, that it generally implies
something more than mere excess. It commonly exhibits
the aspect of coolness and deliberateness in its designs ;
and is as persevering in the execution of its hostile plans
as it is deliberate in forming them. If resentment, when
properly regulated, may be considered, on the principles
of nature, as morally right, revenge, which is the unre-
strained or inordinate form of resentment, is always mor-
ally wrong. It is a passion which is not only greatly in-
consistent with the due exercise of the other powers of the
mind, but is equally condemned by enlightened con-
science and the Scriptures.
^ 354. Nature of the passion of fear.
We conclude this review of*this portion of the Affec-
tions with a single other notice. The passion of Fear,
like the other passions or affections that have passed under
examination, embraces both a simple emotion of pain,
'370 THE MALEV/JLENT AFFECTIONS
caused by some object which we anticipate will be inju-
rious to us, and also additional to the painful emotion, the
desire of avoiding such object or its injurious effects. —
The question might suggest itself with some appearance
of reason, whether Fear, in view of the definition just
given, should be included under the general head of the
Malevolent passions. And this is one of the cases refer-
red to, in separating the Affections into the twofold di-
vision of the Benevolent and Malevolent, when it was
remarked, it might not in all respects be easy to carry the
arrangement into effect in its details. Nevertheless, the
fact that we experience pain in viewing the object feared,
accompanied with a desire of avoiding it, seems very
clearly to involve the idea that it is an object of greater
or less aversion. In other words, that we have more or
less ill will towards it. It is certainly the case if the
object is of such a nature that its presence is painful, that
we can hardly be said to love it. So that, at least, it
ivould seem to come more naturally under the head of the
malevolent affections than under the other class.
But to return to the nature of the passion itself. The
strength or intensity of fear will be in proportion to the
apprehenjded evil. There is a difference of original sus-
ceptibility of this passion in different persons; and the
amount of apprehended evil will consequently vary with
the quickness of such susceptibility. But, whatever
causes may increase or diminish the opinion of the de-
gree of evil which threatens, there will be a correspond-
ence between the opinion which is formed of it and the
fearful passion.
When this passion is extreme, it prevents the due ex-
ercise of the moral susceptibility, and interrupts correct
judgment of any kind whatever. It is a state of mind
of great power, and one which will not bear to be trifled
with. It may serve as a profitable hint to remark, that
there have been persons thrown into a fright suddenly,
and perhaps in mere sport, which has immediately result-
ed in a most distressing and permanent mental disorgani-
zation. — In cases where the anticipated evil is very great,
and there is no hope of avoiding it in any way, the mind
f'xists in that state which is called despair. But the con-
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 371
sideration of this deplorable state of mind, so far as it
may be necessary to meet the objects of the present
Work, will more properly come under the head of Dis-
ordered or Alienated Sensibilities.
CHAPTER VI.
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
§ 355. Of the nature of love or benevolence in general.
We proceed now to the consideration of the other great
division of the Affections. As the original principle of
Resentment is the basis of the Malevolent affections, so
Love, in its more general form, appears to be at the found-
ation, as a general thing at least, of those which are
termed, by way of distinction, Benevolent. The affection
of Love, like the other affections, is a complex state of
mind, embracing, first, a pleasant emotion in view of
the object ; and, second, a desire of good to that object.
—-Hence there will always be found in the object some
quality, either some excellence in the form, or in the rela-
tions sustained, or in the intellect, or in the moral traits,
or in all combined, which is capable of exciting a pleas-
urable emotion. This emotion is the basis oi the subse-
quent desire ; but it is the strict and indissoluble combi-
nation of the two that constitutes the Affection properly
so called.
It is proper to remark here that there are many mod-
ifications or degrees of this affection ; such as the un-
impassioned preference of friendly regard and esteem,
the warmer glow of friendship in the more usual accep-
tation of the term, and the increased feeling of devoted
attachment. There are not only differences in degree,
kut the affection itself, considered in respect to its nature
simply, seems to be modified, and to be invested with a
different aspect, accordino; to the circumstances in which
it is found to operate. The love which children feel for
their parents is different in some respects from that which
372 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
they feel for their brothers and sisters. The love of pa-
rents for their children possesses traits, difficult to be de-
scribed in language, but recognisable by Consciousness,
which distinguish it from their love to mankind gener-
ally, or their love to their country, or their friends. Hence
we are enabled, in consistency with what is the fact in
res] ect to them, to consider the Affections under differ-
ent forms or heads, viz., the Parental affection, the Filial
affection, the Fraternal affection, Humanity, or the love
of the human race. Patriotism, or the love of country,
Friendship, Gratitude, and Sympathy or Pity.
^ 356. Love, in its various forms, characterized by a twofold action.
Love, not only in its more general form, but in all the
varieties which, in consequence of our situation and of
the relations we sustain, it is made to assume, is charac-
terized, like the opposite principle of resentment, by its
twofold action. It is sometimes seen, particularly in pa-
rents and children, to operate instinctively ; that is to
say, without dehberation or forethought. At other times
it is subjected to more or less of regulation, being either
stimulated or repressed in its exercise by the facts and
reflections, which are furnished by reasoning ; and then it
is said to possess a deliberate or voluntary exercise. —
This trait or characteristic, which pervades the whole se-
ries of the Natural or Pathemalic sensibilities, has been
so often referred to that it is unnecessary to delay upon
it here.
^ 357. Of the parental affection.
The principle of benevolence, love, or good-will, which
in its general form, has thus been made the subject of a
brief notice, is susceptible, like the malevolent affection
of Resentment, of various modifications. One of the
most interesting and important of these modifications is
the Parental Affection. — The view which we propose to
take of this modificatK^n of benevolence or love is, that it
is an original or implanted principle. In support of this
view a number of things may be said.
(I.) It is supported, in the first place, by the considera-
tion, that the relation between the parent and child w
THB BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 373
much more intimate and indissoluble than any other. The
child, in the view of the parent, is not so much a distinct
and independent being as a reproduction and continuance
of himself. He sees not only the reflection of his person
and dispositions in his offspring, but of his hopes, joys,
and prospects ; in a word, of hiS whole being. Under
such circumstances, it is almost impossible that the pa-
rental affection should be less deeply seated, less near to
the root and bottom of the soul, than any other which
can be named.
(11.) Such an affection seems, in the second place, to!
be required in order to enable parents to discharge effec-l
tually the duties w^hich are incumbent upon them. The
cares and troubles necessarily incidental to the parental
relation, the daily anxieties, the nights of wakeful solici-
tude, the misgivings, the fears, and the sorrows without
number, it would be impossible for human nature to sup^
port without the aid of an implanted principle. — And
hence it is, that, in the ordering and constitution of na-
ture, this principle rises in such inexpressible beauty upon
the parental heart. It diffuses its light upon it, like a star
upon a tempestuous ocean, and guides it forward in com-
parative safety.
(Iiy In the third place, the acknowledged fact that
this affection has an instinctive as well as a voluntary
action, is a strong circumstance in favour of its being re-
garded as implanted. A purely voluntary affection can-
not, from the nature of the case, be implanted, because it
depends upon the Will ; and will either exist or not exist,
in accordance with the mere volitive determination. An
instinctive affection cannot be otherwise than implanted ;
because, as it does not depend upon the will, it has no
other support than in nature. Now, although this affec-
tion has a voluntary action, based upon inquiry and rea-
son, it has also, at its foundation, an instinctive action^
which is to be regarded as the work of the author of the
•mind himself. So that, altl^ugh it is proper to accom-
pany the statement wnth the remark that it has a twofold
action, the affection, regarded as a whole, may justly be
looked upon as an original or implanted one.
(rV.) In the fourth place, its universality is a circuna
I I
374 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
stance in favour of the viewr which has been taken. W«
sliould naturally expect, in regard to any affection not
implanted, and which depends exclusively upon the de-
cisions of the reason and the will, that there w^ould be
frequent failures in its exercise. We may even be ; : nfi-
dent that this would b(?the result. But the parental affec-
tion, in a mind not actually disordered, never fails. In
all climes and countries, and among all clashes of men,
however debased by ignorance or perverted by the prev-
alence of vice, we may find the traces, and with scarcely
an exception, the marked and distinct traces of this enno-
bling principle. There is no portion of the human race
so degraded that it would not turn with abhorrence from
the man that did not love his offspring.
^ 358. Illustrations of the strength of the parental affection
• (V.) Another circumstance in favour of regarding the
principle as an implanted one is its great strength. Sec-
ondary affections, or those which, by a process of associa-
tion, are built upon others, are sometimes, it is true, ex-
ceedingly strong ; but this is found to be the case only in
particular instances, and not as a general trait. In respect
to the affection before us, it is not found to be strong in
one mind and weak in another, but is strong, excedingly
strong, as a general statement, in all minds alike. It
might be interesting to give some illustrations of this
statement, as, in truth, scarcely any of the facts illustrative
of the mind's action in its various departments are w^holly
destitute of interest. But, on this subject, such is the uni-
versal intensity of this affection, that they multij^iy on
every side. He who has not noticed them has volunta-
rily shut his eyes to some of the most interesting exhibi-
tions of human nature. So that a single incident of this
kind, which will not fail to find a corroborative testimony
in every mother's heart, will suffice.
" When the Ajax man-of-war took fire in the straits of
Bosphorus in the year 1807, an awful scene of distraction
ensued. The ship was of great size, full of people, and
under the attack of an enemy at the time ; the mouths of
destruction seemed to wage in contention for their prey.
Many of those on board could entertain no hopes of de-
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 376
liverance : striving to shun one devouring element, they
were the victims of another. While the conflagration
was raging furiously, and shrieks of terror rent the air^
an unfortunate mother, regardless of herself, seemed soli-
citous only for the safety of her infant child. She never
attempted to escape; but she committed it to the charge
of an officer, who, at her earnest request, endeavoured to
secure it in his coat ; and, following the tender deposite
with her eyes as he retired, she calmly awaited that ca-
tastrophe in which the rest were about to be involved.
Amid the exertions of the officer in such an emergency,
the infant dropped into the sea, which was no sooner dis-
covered by the unhappy parent, than, frantic, she plunged
from the vessel's side as if to preserve it -, she sunk, and
was seen no more."*
^ 359. Of the filial afifection.
As a counterpart to the interesting and important affec-
tion which has thus been briefly noticed, nature has insti-
tuted the fihal affection, or that affection which children
bear to- their parents. The filial affection, although it
agrees with the parental in the circumstance of its being
implanted or connatural in the human mind, differs from
it in some of its traits. — It is understood, among other
things, to possess less strength. And it is undoubtedly
the fact, that it does not, as a general thing, flow forth
towards its object with the same burning, unmitigated in-
tensity. And this is just what we might expect, on the
supposition that the human mind comes from an Author
who possesses all wisdom. The great practical object for
which the parental affection is implanted in the bosoms
»of parents, is to secure to their offspring that close atten-
tion and care which are so indispensable in the incipient
stages of life. The responsibility which rests upon them
in the discharge of their duties to their children, is, in Che
variety of its applications and in the aggregate of its
^mount, obviously greater than that which rests upon
children in the discharge of* their duty to their parents.
Nothing could answer, so far as we are able to judge, the
requisitions which ai-e constantly made on the parent to
♦ Origin and Progress of the Passions, (Anonymous,) vol. i., p. 148
376 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS
meet the child's co idition of weakness, sufTcrin^, and
want, and to avert its liabihties, both mental and bodily,
to error, but the wikeful energy of a principle stronger
even than the love of life. But it is different on the part
of the children. As a general thing, no such calls of
constant anxiety and watchfulness in the behalf of an-
other are made upon them, at least in the early part oi
their life. Hence their love to their parents, althougK
unquestionably strong enough for the intentions of nature,
burns with a gentler ray.
^ 360. The filial affection original or implanted.
We took occasion, in the preceding section, to remark
incidentally, that the filial affection, as well as the parent-
al, is original or implanted, in distinction from the doc-
trine of its being of an associated or secondary formation.
It is not our purpose, however, to enter minutely into this
inquiry ; and yet there are one or two trains of thought
having a bearing upon it which we are unwilling wholly
to omit. — Our first remark is, that if the filial affection
were wholly voluntary and not implanted; in other
words, if it were based wholly on reason and reflection,
there is no question that it w^ould be extinguished much
more frequently than it is in point of fact. But that mere
reason and reflection are not the entire basis of the affec-
tion, seems to be evident from the fact that we continue
to love our parents under circumstances when reason, if
we consulted that alone, would probably pronounce them
unworthy of love. Our parents, as is sometimes the case,
may treat us with great and unmerited neglect ; they may
plunge into the commission of crimes ; they may become
degraded and despised in the eyes of the community;
but they still have a pure and elevated place, which na-
ture has furnished for them in their children's hearts. —
Tliis train of thought (which, it is proper to remark in
passing, is equally applicable to parental love, and tends
to confirm the vi»:ws brought forward under that head)
goes with no small weight to show that the affection be-
fore us has an instinctive or natural basis.
Our second remark, which is also equally applicable to
the parental affection, is, that men, with scarcely an excep*
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 377
tion, show, by their judgments and treatment of tins affec
tion, that they regard it as constitutional or implanted.
It is evident that they expect us to treat our parents with
great forbearance and kindness under all circumstances.
If another person should insult and injure us, public sen-
timent would probably justify us in indicting some sort of
punishment. But it would not justify us, under precisely
tJie same circumstances of provocation, in inflicting pun-
ishment upon, or even showing marked disrespect to a
parent, because it would be a violation of nature. Not
merely the disapprobation, but the contempt and abhor-
rence of mankind, inflicted with scarcely the possibihty
of a failure, is the fearful penalty which nature has at-
tached to a want of parental love, even when the conduct
of the parent himself has been reprehensible. — This is evi-
dently the work of nature. Men act in this case as their
nature prompts them. But nature is never at variance
with herself. If she in this way distinctly intimates that
she requires us to love our parents at all times, in adver-
sity and in prosperity, in honour and in degradation, in
good and in evil report, it is obvious that she has not left
the affection to mere reason and reflection, for it is impos-
sible that love so unchangeable cou^d be sustained in such
a manner, but supports it upon an instinctive or consti-
tutional basis.
We merely add, leaving it to the reader himself to
make the application of the remark, that nearly all the
considerations which were brought forward to shovv^ the
connatural origin of the parental affection, might be prop-
erly adduced to show the same thing in the case of the
filial affection.
^361. Illustrations of the filial affection.
Interesting instances of the results of the filial affection
are to be found wherever there are men. And while it
is admitted that there are some unfavourable tendencies
<in human nature, it is pleasani to contemplate it in an a.s-
pect so amiable and honourable. It is the fact, indeed, that
children, as a general thing, do not appear to be willing
to labour and suffer so much for parents as the parents do
for the children. There are more frequent instances of a
Ii2
S78 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
failure of fi ial than of parental love. Nevertheless, m
all ages of the world, the filial affection has sustained it-
self in such a way as to bring honour to the Being that
implanted it. Childreji have not only supported and
consoled their parents in the ordinary duties and trials of
life, but, in multitudes of instances, have followed them
with their presence and their consolations into banishment
and to prison.
At the accession of the late Emperor Alexander of
Russia, many prisoners, who had been confined for politi-
cal and other reasons in the preceding reign, w^ere set at
liberty. — " I saw," says Kotzebue, who was in Russia at
this interesting period, " an old colonel of the Cossacks
and his son brought from the fortress to Count de Pahlen's
apartments. The story of this generous youth is exrcme-
ly interesting. His father had been dragged, for I know
not w^hat offence, from Tscherkask to Petersburg, and
there closely imprisoned. Soon afterward his son arrived,
a handsome and brave young man, who had obtained, in
the reign of Catharine II., the cross of St. George and
that of Wolodimer. For a long time he exerted himself
to procure his father's enlargement by solicitations and
petitions ; but, perceiving no hopes of success, he request-
ed, as a particular favour, to be allowed to share his cap-
tivity and misfortunes. This was in part granted to him ;
he was committed a prisoner to the fortress, but was not
permitted to see his father ; nor was the unfortunate old
man ever informed that his son was so near him. On a
sudden the prison bolts were drawn ; the doors were
opened ; his son rushed into his arms ; and he hot only
learned that he was at liberty, but, at the same time, was
informed of the noble sacrifice w^hich filial piety had of-
fered. He alone can decide which information gave him
most delight."*
It is true, there have been instances of parents who
have done more than this ; who have not only been rea-
<iy to suffer banishment or imprisoment, but have wilhng-
ly and joyfully offered their lives for the welfare of their
children. In the time of the French Revolution, General
Loizerolles, availing himself of a stratagem in order to
* Kotzebue's Exile, p. 254.
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 379
effect the object, died upon the scaffold in the place of
his son. It might not be easy to bring instances, although
some such have probably existed, of children dying for
their parents. But history furnishes some affecting cases,
where the child has poured back into the parental bosom
the fountain of life which had been received. — " The
mother of a woman," says the writer referred to, § 168,
" in humble life, being condemned at Rome, the jailer,
rather than execute the sentence, wished from humanity
to let her perish of famuie. Meantime no one but her
daughter w^as admitted to the prison, and that after she
was strictly searched. But the curiosity of the man be-
mg aroused by the unusual duration of her survivance,
he watched their interview, and discovered the daughter
affectionately nourishing the author of her days wuth her
own milk. The people among whom this incident occur-
red were not insensible of its virtue, and a temple dedica-
ted to Piety was afterward erectetl on the spot. So was
an aged father, under similar circumstances, preserved by
similar means : he, too, was thus nourished by his daugh-
ter."
^ 362. Of the nature of the fraternal affection.
There is one other affection" connected with the fami-
ly or domestic relation, which bears the marks, althoagh,
perhaps, somewhat less distinctly than in the cases already
mentioned, of a natural or implanted origm. We refer,
as wall be readily understood, to the Fraternal Affection,
or the love of brothers and sisters. The love which we
bear to our brothers and sisters, although, in the basis or
essentiality of its nature, it is the same with any other
love, has something peculiar about it, a trait not easily
expressed in words, which, in our internal experience or
consciousness of it, distinguishes it from every other af-
fection.
We are aware that some will endeavour to explain
the origin of this affection by«aying, that it is ownng to
the circumstance of brothers and sisters being brought up
together beneath the same roof, and thus participatirTg
in an early and long companionship. Nor are we dis-
posed to deny, that this circumstance probably has some
weight i:i imparl ns: to it an increased degree of inten-
380 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
sity. But there is a single fact, which furnishes an an-
swer to the doctrine, that denies a distinct nature to the
Fraternal Affection, and regards it as a mere modification
of love in general, occasioned by the circumstance of
early and long-continued intercourse. It is this. When
other persons, not members of the same family, are
brought up beneath the same roof, although we love
them very much, yet we never have that 'peculiar feeling
(distinct from every other and known only by experience)
which flows out to a brother or sister. There is some-
thing in having the same father and mother, in looking
upward to the same source of origin, in being nourished
at the same fountain in infancy, in feeling the same life-
blood course through our veins, which constitutes, under
the creative hand of nature, a sacred tie unlike any other.
There are other views of the subject, besides that
which has just been noticed, which contribute to show
the connaturalness and permanency of this affection. A
number of the remarks which have been made in support
of the implanted or connatural origin of the Parental and
Filial affections, will apply here. But we leave the sub-
ject to the decision of such reflections, as will be likely
to suggest themselves to the mind of the reader himself
, (j 363. On the utility of the domestic affections.
in the institution of the affections which have now
passed under a rapid and imperfect review, and which,
taken together, may be spoken of under the general de-
nomination of the Domestic affections, we have evidence
of that benevolence and wisdom which are seen so fre-
quently in the arrangements of our mental nature. These
affections are not only sources of happiness to individu-
als and families, diffusing an undefinable but powerful
charm over the intercourse of life ; they also indirectly
exert a great influence in the support of society generally
It was, indeed, a strange notion of some of the an-
cients, of Plato in particular, that the domestic affections
are at variance with the love of country; and that, in
order to extinguish these affections, children should be
taken frcm their parents at their birth, and transferred to
the state to be educated at the public expense. But tha
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECT13NS. 381
domestic affections are too deeply planted, particularly that
of parents, to be generally des4;royed by any process of
this kind ; and if it were otherwise, the result would be
as injurious to the pubhc as to individual happiness. Il
is unquestionable, that one of the great supports of society
is the family relation. Who is most watchful and diligent
in his business 1 Who is the most constant friend of public
order, and is most prompt in rallying to the standard of
the law 1 W^ho, as a general thing, is the best friend, the
best neighbour, and the best citizen ? Not he who is set
loose from family relationships, and wanders abroad with-
out a home ; but he, however poor and unknown to fame,
who has a father and mother, wife and children, brothers
and sisters; who sees his own sorrows and happiness
multiplied in the sorrows and hajipiness of those around
him ; and who is strong in the advocacy and support of
the common and public good ; not only because it in-
volves his own personal interest, but the interest and hap-
piness of all those who are linked arm in arm with him-
self by the beauty and sacredness of domestic ties.
i 364. Of the moral character of the domestic afifectioris, and of the
benevolent affections generally.
One of the most interoeting inquiries in connexion with
the domestic affections, and the benevolent affections gen-
erally, and one, too, on which there has been a great di-
versity of opinion, is, whether these affections possess a
moral character, and what that character is. The more
common opinion seems to have been, that all affections
w^hich are truly benevolent are necessarily, and from the
mere fact of their being benevolent, morally good or
virtuous. Nor is it perhaps surprising, that this opinion
should be so often entertained. Certainly, as compared
v*rith the other active principles, coming under the gen-
eral head of the Natural or Pathematic sensibilities, they
hold the highest rank ; and we frequently apply epithets
fb them which indicate our belief of their comparative
pre-eminence. We speak of them, not only as innocent
and useful, but as interesting, amiable, and lovely ; and
from time to time apply other Epithets, which equally
show the favourable place which they occupy in our re-
382 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
gard. All this we allow ; but still they are not necessa
rily, and in consequence of their own nature simply
morally good.
The correct view on this subject we apprehend to br
this ; (the same that has been taken of other principles,
that are analogous in their nature and operation.) So
far as the benevolent affections are constitutional or in-
stinctive in their action, they are indifferent as to their
moral character, being neither morally good nor evil. So
far as they have a voluntaiy action, they will be either
the one or the other, accordmg to the circumstances of
the case. When, for instance, the mother hears the sud-
den and unexpected scream of her child in another room,
and impetuously rushes to its relief, we allow the action
to be natundly good, and exceedingly interesting and
lovely ; but we do not feel at liberty to predicate virtue of
it, and to pronounce it morally good, because it is obvi-
ously constitutional or instinctive. If the act, done un-
der such circumstances, be necessarily virtuous, then it
clearly follows that virtue may be predicated of sheep,
cows, and other brute animals, who exhibit, under like
circumstances, the same instinctive attachment to their
offspring. So far, therefore, as the benevolent affections
are instinctive in their operation^ they are to be regarded,
however interesting and amiable they may appear, as
neither morally good nor evil.
ij 365. Of the moral character of the voluntary exercises of the benevo
lent affections.
But so far as the benevolent affections are voluntary ;
m other words, so far as they exist in view of motives
voluntarily and deliberately brought before the mind,
they may be, according to the nature of the voluntary ef-
fort, either virtuous or vicious. Take, as an illustration,
another instance of the operations of the maternal affec-
tion. The basis of this affection is unquestionably pure
instinct. But it has, in addition to this, a voluntary oper-
ation ; and this accessory operation, it is to be presumed,
is in the majority of cases virtuous. Nevertheless, when-
ever this amiable and ennobling affection becomes inor-
dinately strong, when under its ipfluence the mother
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 383
leaves the child to vicious courses, against the remon-
strances of the sentiment of duty, its exercise evidently
becomes vicious. — On the other hand, if the mother, per-
haps in consequence of the improper conduct of the child,
or a perplexing inability to meet its numerous wants, or
for some other reason, finds its affection falling below the
standard which is requisite in order to fulfil the intentions
of nature, and in this state of tilings restores and invigo-
rates its exercise by a careful and serious consideration of
all the responsibilities involved in the maternal relation, it
is equally clear that its exercise at once assumes the op-
posite character, not merely of amiableness, but of virtue
<§ 366. Of the connexion between benevolence and rectitudev
We may add to what has now been remarked, that
the highest and most ennobling form of benevolence ex-
ists in connexion with strict justice. Perfect justice is, by
the constitution of things, indissolubly conjoined with the
general and the highest good. All forms and degrees of
benevolence, which are at variance, whether more or less,
w4th perfect rectitude, although they are aiming at good
or happiness, are nevertheless seeking something less than
the greatest possible happiness. Even benevolence, there-
fore, is, and ought to be, subjected to some regulating
power. Whenever_we distinctly perceive that its present
indulgence in any given case will tend, whatever may be
its immediate bearing, to ultimate unhappiness and misery,
we are sacredly bound by the higher considerations of
duty to repress it. And there is as much virtue in re-
pressing its action at such times as there would be at
other times in stimulating it.
One of the most benevolent men of whom history
gives us any account was Bartholomew Las Casas, bish-
op of Chiapa. In 1502 he accompanied Ovando to
Hispaniola, who had been commissioned and sent out
as the Spanish governor to that island. He there wit-
nessed, with all the pain of ajaaturally bf:nevolent heart,
the cruel treatment which w^as experienced by the native
inhabitants ; the deprivation of their personal rights, the
seizure of their lands, their severe toil, and inexorable
punishment. He -vas deeply affected; and from tha«
384 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
time devoted the whole of his subsequent Ufe, a period
of more than sixty years^ to exertions in their behalf.
Under the impulse of a most unquestionable benevolence,
this good man recomm.ended to Cardinal Xircenes who
was at that time at the head of Spanish affairs, the intro-
duction of Negro slaves into the West India Islands, as
one of the best methods of relief to the native inhabitants.
We introduce this statSmeat for the purpose of illus-
trating our subject. The measures of Las Casas, which
tended to introduce enslaved Africans into the Spanish
islands, were the results, beyond all question, of a holy
and exalted benevolence. But if he could have foreseen
the treatment of the Negroes, still more dreadful than
that to Avhich the native inhabitants were subjected; if
he could have beheld in anticipation the desolations
which have spread over Africa in consequence of the
Slave Trade, it would have been his duty, whatever good
might have immediately resulted to the Indians, in whose
behalf he was so deeply interested, to have checked and
controlled his benevolent feelings, and to have endured
the present rather than have been accessory to the future
evil. The indulgence of his benevolence to the native
mhabitants, under such circumstances and in such a form,
(however amiable and interesting benevolence, in itself
considered, undoubtedly is in all cases whatever,) would
have been a violation of duty, and consequently a sin. —
So false and pernicious is that system w^hich ascribes to
benevolence in its own nature, and independently of its
relations to the law of rectitude, the character of virtue
<J 367. Of humanity, or the love of the human race.
Another of the implanted affections is humanity, or the
love of the human race. — On this subject there are only
three suppositions to be made, viz., that man is by nature
i-ndifferent to the welfare of his fellow-man, or that he
naturally regards him with feelings of hostility, or that
he has a degree of interest in his welfare and loves him
That man is by nature entirely indifferent to the welfare
of his fellow-beings, is a proposition which will not be
likely to meet with many supporters ; still less the propo-
sition, although some have been found to advocate it,
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 386
that he is by nature and instinctively the enemy of man.
But, in endeavouring to support the third proposition, that
he has naturally a degree of interest in, and a desire for
the welfaie of the members of the human race generally,
expressed by the terms humanity or PHiLANTimoPY, we
wish it to be understood that we do not, as a general thing,
claim for the exercise of this affection any marked inten-
sity. It is too evident that it possesses but little strength
compared with what it should ; and that it ialls far short
of the Scriptural requisition, which exacts the same love
for our neighbour as for ourselves. The fact undoubtedly
is, that the principle is impeded in its action and dimin-
ished in its results by the inordinate exercise of the prin-
ciple of SELF-LOVE, which is constantly recalling our at-
tention within the restricted circle of our personal inter-
ests. But the affection of humanity, although thus re-
stricted in its action, and depressed far below the stand-
ard which its great Author justly claims for it, has never-
theless an existence.
This is shown, in the first place, from the great interest
which is always taken, and by all classes of persons, in
anything which relates to human nature, to man consid-
ered as a human being, irrespective, in a great degree, of
his country and of the period of his existence. There are
numerous other subjects of inquiry ; and we undoubtedly
feel a considerable degree of interest in whatever reaches
us from different quarters of the earth in respect to their
structure, climate, and resources. But it is chiefly when
man is mentioned that the heart grows warm. We listen
to the story of his situation and fortunes, even for the first
time, as of one in whom flows the same fountain of life.
When we touch a string here, we find a vibration in every
human heart. The mere aspect of man, the mere sound
of the human voice, unaided by a multitude of associations
w^hich often enhance their effect, awakens emotions of
regard and interest. And seldom can we find a person
9# immersed in his own selfish|^ess as boldly and openly
to avow, that the pursuit of his personal interests, with
whatevei' good reasons it may in itself seem to be justi-
4ed, is a valid and honourable excuse for armulling the
Kk
386 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
claims of humanityj and sundering the tie of univeisaJ
brotherhood.
^ 368. Further proofs in support of the doctrine of an innate humanity,
or love for the human race.
Iv. the second place, the testimony of individuals who
have been so situated as to put the natural sentiments of
mankind in this respect to a fair trial, is favourable to
the doctrine of the natural existence of humane or philan-
thropic feelings. We refer here, in particular, to the
statements of travellers, who, either by design or by acci-
dent, have been placed, for a considerable time, among
Savage tribes; without meaning, however, to exclude
those who, in civilized lands, have been favourably situ-
ated for ascertaining the tendencies of the human heart.
Kotzebue, for instance, who was suddenly seized and sent
an exile into Siberia, where he remained some time, was
throw^n into the company of various classes of persons
under such circumstances that he could hardly fail to form
a correct judgment in the matter under consideration.
The Narrative of his Exile, which is exceedingly interest-
ing, discovers the human mind, considered as naturally
disposed to the misery or happiness of the human race,
under a decidedly favourable aspect. In the recollection
of the good and the evil he had experienced, and in view
of the numerous facts recorded in his book, he excjaims :
" How few hard-hearted and insensible beings are to be
met with in my Narrative! My misfortunes have con-
firmed me in the opinion, that man may put confidence in
his fellow-man."
Almost all the travellers into the interior of Africa,
Vaillant, Park, Sparman, Clapperton, Denham, the Lan-
ders, and others, although they travelled among tribes in
the highest degree ignorant and degraded, constantly
speak of the kindness they experienced. — On a certain
occasion. Park, for reasons connected with the circum-
stance of his being an entire stranger in the country, was
obliged to remain all day without food. About sunset,
as he was turning his horse loose to graze, and had be-
fore him the prospect of spending the night in solitude
and hunger, a woman happened to pass near him as she
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 387
was returning from her employment in the fields. As
tonished at seeing a white man, she stopped to gaze upor.
him; and, noticing his looks of dejection and sorrow,
kindly inquired from what cause they proceeded. When
Park had explained his destitute situation, the woman
immediately took up his saddle and bridle, and desired
him to follow her to her home. There, after having
lighted a lamp, she presented him with some broiled fish,
spread a mat for him to lie upon, and gave him permis-
sion to remain in her humble dwelling till the morning.
Park informs us, that, during the chief part of the night,
the woman and her female companions were occupied
with spiiming ; and that they beguiled their labour with
a variety of songs; one of which had reference to his
own situation. The air was sweet and plaintive, and the
words were literally as follows. " The winds roared, and
the rains fell. The poor white man, faint and weary,
came and sat under our tree. He has no mother to bring
him milk, no wife to grind him corn. Let us pity the
white man ; no mother has he to bring him milk, no
wife to grind him corn."
6 369. Proofs of a humane or philanthropic principle from the existence
of benevolent institutions.
It will be noticed, we do not assert that the principle
of love to our fellow-men, considered simply as members
of the human race, is as strong in the human mind as it
should be. All we propose to assert and maintain is,
that it actually has an existence there to some extent.
And, among other proofs, we might, in the third place,
properly refer to those numerous benevolent institutions;
such as hospitals, infirmaries, asylums, houses of refuge
charity schools, and charitable societies of every descrip-
tion, which exist in all parts of the world. It is true that
institutions of this kind flourish most, and it is a circum-
stance exceedingly "honourable to the tendency of the
Ohristian religion, in Christie countries. But the fact
■undoubtedly is, that, on suitable inquiry, we may find
evidences in a diminished degree, of benevolent efforts,
and traces of benevolent institutions, such as have been
now referred to, in lands not thus highly favoured. Ip
388 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
the recently-published life of the Missionary Swartz, (ch
xi.,) we find the following incidental remark, which
throws light upon the state of things in India. Speaking
of the territory of Tanjore, the writer says, " Its capital,
bordering on the Delta of the Coleroon and the Cavary,
IS wealthy and splendid, adorned with a pagoda, w hich
eclipses in magnificence all other structures in the South
of India; and exceeding, in the number of its sacred
buildings and charitable institutions, all the neighbouring
provinces."
Among other facts kindred with those w^hich have now
been alluded to, it is well known, that when any portion
of the human race have been subjected by fire, war, fam-
ine, the pestilence, or some convulsion of nature, to great
affliction, an interest is felt, and efforts are made in their
behalf in other countries. As an illustration of what we
mean, it will suffice to remark, that when, some years
since, the Greek nation, and, still more recently, the in-
habitants of the Cape de Verd Islands, were in a state of
extreme want, although they were a remote people, and
scarcely known among us, a number of vessels, in both
cases, were sent from this country to their assistance,
loaded with provisions at the expense of private individ-
uals. Many facts of this kind might be mentioned, which
are obviously inconsistent with the idea that man is indif-
ferent to the welfare of his fellow-man, much more that
mpn are naturally hostile to each other.
^ 370. Other remarks in proof of the same doctrine.
In the fourth place, the principle of humanity is requi-
site, in order to render human nature at all consistent
with itself. — We have, for instance, implanted within us
the desire of Esteem, which is universal in its operation.
But why should we be so constituted as naturally to de-
.^ire the esteem of those whom, at the same time, we nat-
drally hate or are indifferent to ? There is no question
that Sociality, or the desire of society, is connatural to the
human mind ; but is it presumable that men are so crea-
ted as earnestly to covet the society of others, when, at
the same time, those whose company they seek are, by
the constitution of nature, the objects of entire indilFer-
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 389
^ eiice or of decided aversion ? We have within us, as we
shall have occasion*to notice hereafter, the distinct prin-
ciple of Pity or Sympathy, which prompts us both to pre-
vent suffering and to relieve it when it exists ; a principle
which no one supposes is designed by nature to be limit-
ed in its operation to the immediate circle of our relatives
and friends, but which has men as such for its object, and
the wide world for the field of its exercise. But on what
grounds of wisdom or consistency is it possible that na-
ture should prompt men to relieve or prevent the suffer-
ings of others, whom she also imperatively requires us to
regard with sentiments of hostility, or, at least, with im-
feeling coldness ? Furthermore, our Conscience requires
us to treat our feilow-men, in all ordinary cases, with
kindness, and we experience an internal condemnation
when we do not do it ; which would at least not be the
case if we were the subjects of a natural hostility to them.
— It is on such grounds we assert that human nature, in
order to be consistent with itself, requires a principle of
good- will or love to man, considered amply as possessing
a kindred origin and nature.
^ 371, Of patriotism or love of country.
One of the most important modifications of that more
general and extensive form of good-will or benevolence
which extends to all mankind, is patriotism, or love of
country. It seems to be the intention of nature, when
we consider the diversities of customs and languages that
exist, and particularly that, in many cases, countries are
distinctly separated from each other, by large rivers, lakes,
gulfs, mountains, and seas, that mankind, instead of be-
ing under one government, shall exist in separate and dis-
tinct communities or nations, each having its own institu-
tions and civil polity. And such, at any rate, is the fact.
We are not only members of mankind and citizens of the
world, (a relation which ought to be more distinctly and
^lly recognised than it ever has been,) but are mem-
bers, and, as such, have approfriate duties to fulfil, of our
own particular community. And it is thus that a founda-
tion is laid for that particular state of mind which we de- '
nominate Patriotism.
Kk2
390 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
This affection we regard as secondary rather than origi-
nal. It is that love which we exercise, and ought to ex-
ercise, towards the members of our species considered as
su:h, heightened by the consideration that those towards
whom it is put forth are sprung from the same race, in-
habit the same territory, are under the same constitutions
of government, speak the same language, and have the
same interests. So that the love of our race, as it is mod-
ified in the form of love of our country, while it is more
restricted, becomes proportionally more intense. And, in
point of fact, it is unquestionably one of the predominant
and ruling principles which regulate the conduct of men.
Nevertheless, we are not to suppose that there is neces-
sarily any conflict between these two principles. For, in
doing good to our country we are doing good to mankind ~,
and to that particular portion of mankind which Provi-
dence, by placing them more immediately within the scope
of our observation and effort, seems to have assigned as
the especial field of our beneficence. At the same time it
cannot be denied, that patriotism, in its irregular and un-
restrained exercise, does sometimes, and but too frequent-
ly, interfere with Philanthropy, or the love of man. The
passion of patriotism, as a general thing, has become dis-
proportionate in degree, as compared with the love of
the human race. The interests of our country, by being
continually brooded over, are exaggerated to our percep-
tion ; while those of mankind are too much lost sight of.
There is too much ground for the feeling lamentation of
Cowper :
'* Lands intersected by a narrow frith
Abhor each other. iMounlains interposed
Make epemies of nations, who had else,
Like kindred drops, been mingled into ono."
^ 372. Of the affection of friendship.
Another interesting modification of that feeling ot
good-will or love, which, as men, we naturally bear to our
fellow-men, is denominated Friendship. It is a passion
so distinctly marked, that it well deserves a separate no-
tice, although there are no good grounds for regarding
it, considered as a distinct affection, as connatural. The
love which we bear to our species is so diffused, that it
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 391
cannot be said, as a general thing, to possess a high de-
gree of strength. As it withdraws from the vast circuin-
l^rence of the human race, and contracts its exercise
witliin the narrow circle of our country, it acquires in-
creased energy. Retreating within the still more restrict-
ed limits which imbody those with whom we are most
accustomed to associate, it assumes a new modification,
being not only characterized by greater strength, but a
source of greater pleasure. And this, in distinction from
Humanity or Philanthropy, which extends to all mankind,
as w^ell as in distinction from Patriotism, which merely
spreads itself over the extent of our country, we call
FRIENDSHIP.
This affection, like the other benevolent affections
which have been mentioned, includes in itself an emo-
tion of pleasure, combined with the desire of good to its
object. It exists, or may be supposed to exist, in respect
to those persons who are not only so situated as to be the
subjects of our intimacy, but possess such qualities as to be
deserving of our esteem. It is, perhaps, a common remark,
in connexion with this particular view of the subject, that
a similarity of character is requisite as the basis of this af-
fection. This, to some extent, is true ; but the remark
is not to be received without some limitation. It is cer-
tainly the case, that friendship is consistent with diversi-
ties of intellect. Persons w^ho differ much in the quick-
ness and amplitude of intellectual action, may neverthe-
less entertain for each other a sincere friendship. But it
must be admitted, it does not readily appear how" such
friendship can exist in the case of persons who differ es-
sentially in moral character. The fact that one of the
parties is virtuous, the other vicious ; that one of them
attaches his highest veneration and esteem to that recti-
tude which the other regards as of no value, can hard-
ly fail to interpose between them, as far as the reciproca-
tion of friendship is concerned, an insuperable barrier
^ 373. Of the affectio* of pity or sympathy.
It ^s not unfrequently the case that we find around us
objects of suffering ; those who, from want, or disease, or
some othrr cause, are justly entitled to the aid of their
392 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTBDNS.
fellow-men. In order to meet this state of things, Provi-
dence has kindly implanted within us the principle of
Pity, which prompts us, by an instinctive and powerful
im})ulse, to render the aid which is so frequently needed.
This benevolent affection differs from others, in being
based upon a pa'nful instead of a pleasant emotion.
The occasion of the exercise of the affection of Pity or
Sympathy is some case of suffering. On contemplating
the scene of suffering, it is the result, in all ordinary ca-
ses, that we experience a painful emotion, which is fol-
lowed by a desire to relieve the suffering object.
This principle is practically a very important one. It
is a sentiment of Bishop Butler, expressed in connexion
with this very subject, that the misery of men is much
more directly, and to a much greater extent, under the
power of others than their happiness. The sources of
happiness, both mental and bodily, are to a great extent
in ourselves; and although they are susceptible of in-
crease through the instrumentality of the kind offices of
others, yet not ordinarily in a very great degree. But it
is in the power of any individual, who is thus evilly dis-
posed, to plunge others, not one or two merely, but even
whole neighbourhoods, into misery. The principle of
Pity, which is called forth not only in the actual but also
in the anticipated prospect of suffering, aids, in connex-
ion with other causes, in keeping under proper restraint
any tendency to a wrong exercise of this important pow-
er. It not only exercises the important office of prevent-
ing suffering, by operating, as it were, in anticipation, but
it visits, watches over, and relieves it when it has actual-
ly occurred. And in this last point of view particularly,
as well as in the other, it commends itself to our notice
and admiration as a practical principle eminently suited*
to the condition and wants of man.
^ 374. Of the moral character of pity.
It T^ an opinion sometimes expressed, that an affection
so amiable, and generally so useful as that of Pity, can-
not be otherwise than virtuous. It is not wonderful, when
we take into view the interesting character of the affec-
tion, that such an opinion should be entertained ; but we
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 393
cannot regard it as strictly correct. It is well understood,
so much so as not to be considered a matter of doubt, that
this aifection operates in the first instance instinctively.
And it is easy to see the intention of nature in instituting
this form of its action. In a multitude of cases where
we can relieve the sufferings of our fellow-men, our as-
sistance would come too late if we acted on the hesita-
ting and cautious suggestions of reason. An instinctive
action, therefore, is necessary. And, so far as the action
of the principle is of this kind, it must be obvious that
it is neither virtuous nor vicious.
But there is another view of this subject The prin-
ciple of sympathy may be checked in its exercise when
it is too intense, or increased, when deficient, under the
influences of a deliberate and voluntary effort. And, un-
der these circumstances, its action may have a voluntary
character, being right or wrong according to the circum- S^
stances of the case. It is right when it is subordinated
to the requisitions of an enlightened conscience ; but oth-
erwise it is wrong. And it may be wrong by excess as
well as by defect. If, for instance, we happened to see a
person severely but justly punished under the authority
of law, we might exercise pity in his behalf. But if, un-
der the mere impulse of pity, we should be led to attempt
his rescue, in violation of the rights and interests of soci-
ety, such an exercise of it would be wrong. Again, we ,
can hardly fail to pity the wretchedness of the emaciated
beggar who asks for our assistance ; but if we are well
persuaded that the bestowment of alms will only tend to
encourage those vicious habits which have led to this
wretchedness, it may become a duty both to check our
sympathy and to withhold our aid.
At the s£me time we do not deny,,that W:e may very
justly draw inferences in favour of the virtuousness of
that man's character in whom this interesting passion is
predominant. And we say this, because, althou^-h sym-
pajhy does not necessarily imply virtuousness, yet, in point
of Tact, it is seldom -the case th*^t they are at variance
with each other. They generally run in the same track,
acting harmoniously together.
394 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS
() 375. Of the affection of gratitude.
Another distinct modification of that general slate of
the mind which is denominated love, is the implanted or
connatural alfection of gratitude. Although this, like
the other benevolent affections, includes an emotion of
pleasure or delight, combined with a desire of good or a
benevolent feeling towards the object of it, it nevertheless
has its characteristics, which clearly distinguish it from
them. We never give the name of gratitude, for in-
stance, to this combination of pleasant and benevolent
feeling, except it arise in reference to some benefit or ben-
efits conferred. Furthermore, gratitude involves, as the
basis or occasion of its origin, not only the mere fact of a
good conferred, but of a designed or intentional benefit.
If the benefit which we have received can be traced to
some private or selfish motive on the part of the person
from whom it comes, we may be pleased, as we probably
shall be, with the good that has accrued to us ; but shall
cease, from the moment of the discovery of his motive,
to entertain any gratitude to the author of it. Gratitude,
therefore, can never be excited within us, except in view
of what is in fact, or is supposed to be, true, unadultera-
ted benevolence."
Different individuals manifest considerable diversity in
the exercise of grateful emotions. There are some per-
sons who exhibit, in the reception of the favours conferred
upon them, but slight visible marks of grateful regard ;
others are incapable of such a passive reception of bene-
fits, and are strongly affected with their bestowal. This
difference is probably owing, in part, to original diver-
sities of constitution; and is partly to be ascribed to
differf^nt views of the characters and duties of men, cr to
other adventitious circumstances.
TH£ BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 895
CHAPTER VH .
THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS
LOVE TO THE SUPREME BEING.
^ 376. Man created originally with the principle of love to God.
In order to preserve the other principles of human na-
ture in the position which the great Author of that na-
ture has assigned to them, and to render their action just
in itself and harmonious in its relations, we have reason*
to believe that there was originally in the human consti-
tution a principle of love to the Supreme Bemg. This
affection, it may well be supposed, was entirely analo-
gous, both in its nature and its operations, to the other
Benevolent Affections, possessing, like them, a twofold-
action, instinctive and voluntary. It differed, however,
greatly in the degree or intensity of its action ; bein^
rendered to its appropriate object, as might be expected
from the unspeakably high and "holy nature of that ob-
ject, with all the energy of which the mind was capable.
That man must have been created originally with such a
principle of love, overruling and regulating all the sub-
ordinate principles, we think must be evident, in the first
place, from the considerations furnished by Analogy.
In all the departments of the mind, so far as it has
hitherto passed under our examination, we have seen ev-
idences of contrivance and wisdom ; everything has its
place, adaptations, and uses ; and nothing,, so far as we
can judge, is done imperfectly. If it were necessary in
this inquiry to put out of view the Intellect, so wonder-
fal in its adaptation and its resources, we should hardly
fail to find, in the distinct departments of the Sensibilities,
ample illustrations and proofs of this remark. The In-
Hincts, w^hich naturally arrest 6ur attention first, have ob?
viously their appropriate place and office; and although
they rank lowest in the enumeration of our active prin-
ciples, are yet indispensable. If man were constituted
396 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
physically as he is at present, and yet without the Appe-
tites, the next higher class of the principles involving de-
sire, there would obviously be a want of adaptation be-
tween his mental and physical arrangements. The Pro-
pensities also, as we advance still upward, have each their
sphere of action, their specific nature and uses ; and are
adapted with wonderful skill to the necessities of man,
and to the relations he sustains. The same remark, and
perhaps in a stiU higher sense, will apply to the Affec-
tions. — As a father, a man has a natural affection for his
children, that he may thus be supported in the discharge
of the arduous duties he owes to them ; as a child, he has
naturally an affection for his parents ; and as man simply,
Jie is evidently constituted w^ith a degree of love for his
fellow-man.
When we consider the relations which men sustain, still
more important than those which are the basis of the
principles which have been mentioned, are we not justi
fied in saying, on the ground of Analogy, that there mus
have been originally in the human constitution a princi
pie of love to the Supreme Being 1 If there was not
originally in the mental constitution such a principle as
love to God, was not thfe structure of the mind in that re-
spect obviously at variance with what the Analogy of its
nature in other respects requires ? If, from the urgent
necessities of our situation, there must be stiong ties of
love, binding together parents, and children, and brothers;
if these ties must reach and bind with some degree of
strictness all the members of the human family, on what
principle can the doctrine be sustained', that man wa>
originally created without an implanted love to that Be-
ing, who is infinitely more and better to him than an
earthly brother or father ?
i) 377. That man was originally created with a principle of love to
God, further shown from the Scriptures.
In the second place, we hav^ great reason to believe,
from the testimony of the Scriptures, that man was, in
the nrst instance, created with the distinct and operative
principle of love to his Creator. At the creation, it is
worthy of notice, that everything which came from the
LOVE TO THE SUPREME BEING. !?97
hands of the great Architect was pronounced to be good.
But if man, raised from nothingness into existence, fur-
nished with high powers of thought and action, and sup-
ported by the daily gifts of the divine bounty, was cre-
ated without a principle of love to his Maker, (analo-
gous to the other implanted affections, only that it exist-
ed in an exceedingly higher degree, corresponding ,to the
greatness of the object,) we cannot deny that we are ut-
terly unable to perceive in such a result the basis of so
marked a commendation, as fai as the parents of the
human race were concerned. It would seem, on the
contrary, th^t such a work, framed with such a disregard
of the most important relations, could not be pronounced
good, even in the estimate of human reason, much less in
that of a reason infinitely comprehensive and divine.
But, furthermore, man is expressly said to have been
created in the image of his Maker. That is to say,- in
the great outlines of his mental constitution, he was, in
the first instance, a copy, (on a very limited scale, it is
true,) but still a copy, in fact, of the Divine Mind. But
we must suppose that God, both in his administration of
'ustice and benevolence, is regulated by a wise and full
consideration of the relations of things. He always
loves from the very perfection of his nature, what is
worthy to be loved ; and if he created man in his own
image, (that is to say, with affections and moral senti-
ments corresponding to the nature and relations of thingsj)
He must have created him with a disposition to love him-
self. We are not at liberty to suppose that he could
by possibility create a being who should either hate or
be indifferent towards another being, whom he knew not
only to be infinitely wise and good, but to sustain the re-
lation of a Creator, preserver, and benefactor. A being
thus created, so utterly wanting in those affections which
are required by the immutable relations of things, could
hardly be said, with any degree of truth, to be created in
the image of God. We infer, therefore, from the state-
ment of man's being created in the Divine image, that
he was created with a principle of love to his Maker
And the same reason leads us to believe, that the princi-
ple was paramount to every other ; corresponding, as far
L L
398 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
as the limited powers of man would permit, to the infi-
iiitely exalted nature of its object. And, in addition to
tiiis, the analogy of the other implanted principles points
to the conclusion, that, like them, it possesses a twofold
action, instinctive and voluntary.
^ 378. Further proof that man was thus created.
Again, many of those passages of Scripture which are
addressed to man in his present fallen state, appear to
contemplate the restoration of this great principle. When
the Saviour, on a certain occasion, was asked, in respect
to the commandments, which of them was to be regarded
as having the first or leading place, his answer was :
" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart,
and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the
first and great commandment." Matt, xxii., 37, 38.
This language implies, to say the least, the possibility of
the existence of this principle ; and particularly, that in
a sinless or perfect state of the human race, it is indispen-
sable. — Finally, that renovation of our nature, which is
so frequently spoken of in the New Testament under the
name of a New Creation or New Birth, and which is rep-
resented as being brought about by divine assistance,
unquestionably, in the meaning of the writers of the Scrip-
tures^ involves the restoration of this essential element of
the mental constitution. To be what he is required to be,
man must be what he was before the Fall ; and in order
to be in this situation, the great requisite is, what has just
been mentioned, to love God with all the heart. — We feel
authorized, therefore, in asserting, that originally supreme
love to God was an essential element of human nature ;
and that, at the present moment, it is, or ought to be in
*?very human bosom, a distinct and operative principle.
Its presence, as we shall be led to see in the succeeding
section, makes man what he was designed to be ; its ab-
sence furnishes an easy and philosophical explanation of
those evils which, in the present state of things, so fre-
quently press themselves on our notice.
^ 379, Relation of the principle of supreme love to God to the other
principles of the pathematic sensibilities.
In giving an account, in their succession and place, of
LOVE TO THE SUPREME BEING. 399
the principles of action which go to constitute the depart-
ment of the Pathematic sensibihties, we feel at liberty,
from what has been remarked, to place at their head,
both as most important in its results and as highest in
rank, the principle of supreme love to God. If it be said,
as undoubtedly it may be said with too much truth, that
this principle of human action, considered as a distinct
and permanent principle, is obliterated, it is nevertheless
true that it is susceptible, with divine aid, of a restora-
tion. If it be asserted that men are not naturally gov-
erned by it, it still remains certain, if the precepts of
Scripture may be understood with their obvious import,
that they ought to be governed by it.
Mental philosophy, as well as Divine Revelation, clear-
ly indicates, that there has been at some period a great
mental convulsion ; that the glory of the human mind,
although not absolutely extinct, is greatly obscured ; and
that man, in respect to his intellectual and moral condi-
tion, is truly and aptly described as a fallen being. And
in this deplorable state of moral obliquity and mutilation
he will continue to remain, if the views which have been
proposed are correct, until the principle of supreme love
to God is reinstated. The wisdom which we claim for
the structure of human nature cannot be asserted with
confidence to exist, except on the supposition that this
great pillar of its support originally belonged to it, and
may yet, by possibility, belong to it.
Now supposing this principle to exist in the human
mind, either by being originally implanted as in Adam,
or by being restored under the name of a Regeneration
or New Creation, we naturally proceed to inquire what
relation it holds to the other principles in this department
of the mind, and what results are likely to attend upon it.
In point of mere rank, (that is to say, in the podtion
which it occupies and ought to occupy in our estima-
tion,) we cannot hesitate to say that it stands first ; not
only before the Appetites and Propensities, but before all
' the other Affections, the clasB with which it is itself prop-
er ly arranged; taking the precedence by an incalculable
remove, not only of the love of country and the Icve of
friends, but of the love of parents and children. " He
400 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy
of me ; and he that loveth son or daughter more than
me, is not worthy of me." Matt, x., 37. The beneficial
results connectecl with the exercise of this principle are
such as might be expected from the pre-eminent rank it
sustains. Whien it is in its full exercise, rendered to its
ajipropriate object, in the language of Scripture, with all
the heart, and mind, and soul, it may be regarded as a
matter of course, that all the subordinate principles will
be kept in their place. The appetites, the propensities,
and the domestic affections still exist; but such is the
ascendency of love to the Supreme Being, that every in-
ordinate tendency is rebuked, and they all revolve in the
circle which God in the beginning assigned to them.
^ 380. The absence of this principle attended with an excessive and
sinful action of other principles.
Now take for a moment the opposite view, and let us
see if w^e may not account for what has sometimes been
called the Depravity of human nature, without the neces-
sity of supposing the implantation of principles which, in
themselves necessarily, and under all circumstances, are
evil. If the principle of Supreme love to God be removed
from the place which both Scripture and reason agree in
assigning to it in the original constitution of the mind,
one of the most important checks on the undue exercise
of the subordinate principles is of course taken away.
The love which is <lrawn from the great source of all
good will naturally centre in ourselves, and the princi-
ples which have relation to our present enjoyment and
interest will become predominant. Hence we see the
disorders which all impartial inquirers, even heathen phi-
losophers, acknowledge to exist in the human race ; and
which it is the aim of enlightened reason and philosophy,
and particularly of religion in its instructions and its spe-
cial influences, to rectify. The A^etites, which before
had their appropriate place and offices, have now broken
over their allotted limits, and are, on every hand, leading
their victims into the various forms of excess and de-
bauchery. The Propensities, many of which connect us
closely with our fellow-beings, and in their proper exer-
LOVE TO THE SUPREME BEING. 401
cise impart no small degree of strength and enjoyment to
human character, have become inordinately intense in
then- action. Conscience, it is true, continues to repeat
its remonstrances; and the Will, under the suggestions
of Conscience, makes more or less of resistance ; but as
Ihey are not sustained by the love of the Supreme Being,
which could not fail, if it existed, to operate in theij- fa-
re ur, the contest becomes unequal, and the efforts which
they make are found to be unavailing. In this state of
things, men who, under other circumstances, would have
leaned, and loved to lean, on the great arm of the Al-
mighty for support, now find their chief enjoyment in the
pursuit of w^ealth and power, and in the unrestricted in-
f«=ircourse and the uncertain enjoyments of the world. — It
is in suck a condition of things as this that we find the
true source of the follies and crimes which afflict the hu-
man race. The dethronement of God in the heart neces-
sarily involves the predominance of principles which,
however innocent and useful in their just exercise, become
in their excess evil, and " only evil continually."
J 381. Further illustrations of the results of th j absence of this principle.
The topic of the last section is one of no small impor-
tance. The section, it will be noticed, consists chiefly of
a statement of facts, without any attempt at explanations.
As some persons may not ^ first readily perceive how it
happens that the suspension or obliteration of the princi-
ple of love to God is necessarily or naturally attended
with the evil results there ascribed to it, we will delay
upon the subject a little longer. It is sometimes the case,
that a mere additional illustration, placing the subject in
a new light, will have the effect upon the mind of the
inquirer of an argument or proof If the suspension or
obliteration of any other principle will be followed 'by
results analogous to those which have been described as
accessory to the extinction of love to God, we shall clearly
h^^e, in this circumstance, an evidence that the results in
the last case have been correctly indicated. And, on the
other hand, if the extinction or utter inaction of subordi-
nate principles be not attended with irregularity and per-
version in other parts of the mind, it will furnish a strong
Ll2
402 THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
presumption that the extinction or utter inaction of the
higher principles will, in its collateral results, be equally
harmless. By the aid of these statements we may easily
bring the subject, in a considerable degree, to the test of
common observation. And what is the fact ?
We will make the supposition, that, in the case of, some
individual, the domestic affections have for some reason
become permanently extinct, either in theit nature or in
their action. Such instances, though not by any means
frequently, may yet sometimes be found. The person in
whom this obliteration or utter inaction of the domestic
affections takes place, has no attachment for his children
or any of his family such as he used to have. It is a
matter of common observation and remark, that a person
in such a situation will be much more likely than another
to fall under the dominion of the lower appetites ; to ad-
dict himself, for instance, to licentious practices, or to be-
come a drunkard. While the domestic affections existed,
while he looked with deep interest on his parents, his
children, and his wife, he was furnished with powerfid
auxiliary motives to restrain his appetites. He saw dis-
tinctly, if he indulged them, they would not only inter-
fere with his duties to his family, but would plunge them
into deep disgrace and sorrow. So great influence had
this view of his situation upon his mind, that he was en-
abled to sustain himself in opposition to the approaches
of the evil habits which threatened him. But as soon as
the domestic affections became extinct, as soon as the
love of kindred w^as blasted in his bosom, he fell before
them.
Again, if we suppose, in addition to the extinction of
the domestic affections, the further obliteration of love to
his country and of love to the human race, (and still
more if we add the extinction of the principles of pity
and gratitude,) the probability of his falling under the
dominion of the bodily appetites, and of degrading him-
self to the condition of a brute, will be obviously increas-
ed by this state of things. With the removal of these
leading principles of human action, there is, of course, a
removal of an important class of motives which had a
favourable tendency. And if it were possible for him to
LOVE TO THE bUPREME lEING 403
stand against the soncitations of the appetites before, he
will be likely to fall now. The Will, whose office it is,
under the direction of the Conscience, to regulate and re-
strain the appetites, received important assistance frcin
the sources which have feeen alluded to ; but with the re-
moval of that assistance its po^ver is proportionally di-
minished, and all hope is gone. The cravings of nature
must have food of some kind; and if it fails to be fur-
nished with the ennobling aliment which is generated in
the love of our families, our country, and mankind, it
will inevitably fatten itself on the mire of a debasing
sensuality. — This is the common sense view of the sub-
ject ; one which will be likely to commend itself to the
sober judgment and acceptance of all.
It is clear that these illustrations will apply in their
full strength to the principle of love to God. Just so
long as this principle is predominant, it is impossible, as
has been before stated, for the inferior principles to be-
come excessive and morally evil in their action. We
feel, under the influence of this exalting affection, that
we cannot s© much dishonour our Maker ; we cannot es-
timate so lightly those claims of gratitude which He has
upon us ; we cannot so basely contemn our infinite obli-
gations to his wisdom and benevolence, as to indulge for
a moment any exercise of the passions which he has for-
bidden. They stand rebuked and withering in the pres-
ence of the object that has the dominion in our hearts.
But only obliterate the principle of Love to God; and
at once a thousand motives, which enabled us to keep
them in their proper place, are lost in the extinction of
the princ jple on which they rested ; and other principles,
L'^Suttij below it, at once gain the ascendency.
404 HABITS OF THE SENSIBILITIES
CHAPTER Vm.
HABITS OF THE SENSIBILITIES.
^ 382. Meaning of the term habit.
We propose to bring the subject of this dey)artrDent of
(he SensibiUties to a conclusion by some shght references
to the results of the law of Habit, considered in connex-
ion with this portion of our nature. As we have already
had occasion to make some remarks upon the general na-
ture of Habit, and have seen in repeated instances its
bearing upon mental action, it will not be necessary to
spend much time upon that subject here. The term
Habit, in its apphcation to the various mental powers,
expresses the simple fact, that the mental action acquires
facility and strength by repetition or 'practice.
^ 383. Of habits in connexion with the appetites.
In considering the results of Habit, in connexion with
that portion of the Natural or Pathematic Sensibilities
which involves desire, viz., the Instincts, Appetites, Pro-
pensities, and Affections, w^e shall adhere to the arrange-
ment which has hitherto been followed, with the excep-
tion of the Instincts, to which the law of Habit does not
apply. — We proceed to remark, therefore, that there may
be appetitive habits ; in other words, that the Appetites,
the class of sensitive principles next in order to the In-
stincts, acquire strength from repeated indulgence. The
appetites in their first or original operation act instinctive-
ly ; but it is incidental to their nature, as it is to ail the
modifications of Desire, that their gratification is attended
with more or less of pleasure. In connexion with this ex-
perience of pleasure, we frequently stimulate them to ac-
tion a second time, under circumstances when there would
be but little, and perhaps no occasion, for a purely instinct-
ive exercise. But the desire, as it is thus, by a voluntary
effort, or, at least, by a voluntary permission, indulged
again and again, rapidly becomes more and more '"ntense
i
HABITS OF THE SENSIBILITIES. 40b
till at last it is found to acquire a complete ascendency.
That such is the process appears to be proved by what
unfortunately we have so frequent occasion to notice in
those who are in the practice of taking intoxicating drinks.
If they had indulged their appetite only a few times, they
would undoubtedly have retained their mastery over it.
But as this indulgence has been repeated often, and con-
tinued for a considerable length of time, the appetite
growing stronger with each repetition, has gradually ac-
quired the predominance, till, it has brought the whole
man, as it were, into captivity. — (See § 49.)
^ 390. Of habits in connexion with the propensities.
The Propensities, as well as the Appetites, are subject
to the influence of this law ; in other words, theje may
be propensive as well as appetitive habits. The princi-
ple of Sociality, for instance, has an instinctive action ;
but there is no question that we have the power, as it is
undoubtedly our duty, to-subject it to suitable regulation.
But if, instead of doing this, we indulge it continually
for the mere sake of the pleasure we experience, without
regard to the other claims existing upon us, we shall find
it rapidly acquiring undue strength, and every day will
render it more difficult to regulate it properly. And, in
point of fact, it is sometimes the case, that we find per-
sons who, in consequence of an unrestricted indulgence
of a principle otherwise naturally good, have brought
themselves into such a situation, that retirement, which
every reasonable man ought sometimes to desire, is al
ways exceedingly, irksome to them.
Perhaps not one of the Propensities can be named
which may not be greatly strengthened in the same way.
It is well known in what countless instances the desire of
Possession, growing stronger by continued repetition, be-
comes an ascendant and controlling principle. We are
not to suppose that the intense love which the miser has
fo»his possessions, existed in hirtwnaturally andoriginally.
We do, indeed, admit that the seed or element of it, the
basis on which it rests, existed in him naturally, as it ex-
istfc in all men. But how does it happen that it shows
vtself in this exaggerated and intense form ? This is the
406 HABITS OF THE SENSIBILITIES.
work of the man himself, and for which the man himself
IS accountable, rather than the original tendencies of his
nature. From morning till night, from day to day, and
from year to year, the Possessory principle has been vol-
untarily kept in intense exercise. And the natural and
necessary result has been, that it has become the ruling
sentiment of the heart.
So of the desire of Power. In itself considered, power
may properly be regarded as one of the various forms of
natural good. And accordingly we are at liberty to take
the ground, as was formerly seen in the remarks on that
subject, that the desire of power, if duly subordinated, is
not reprehensible. But in a multitude of instances, this
desire is far from showing itself in the aspect of a subordi-
nate principle. And the reason is, that it has acquired
inordinate strength by repetition ; a habit of mind has
been formed, which has resulted in its becoming predomi-
nant. The individual, in whom it exists in this intense
form, is not satisfied with anything short of the prostra-
tion of every other person at his own feet. It w^ould
hardly be going too far to say, that he looks upon the Su-
preme Being, when he contemplates his greatness and el-
evation, in the light of a rival and an enemy.
<5 385. Of habits in connexion with the affections.
Remarks similar to what have been made in respect
to the lower active or motive principles, will apply, in
like manner, to the higher class of the Affections. We
sometimes see, for instance, decided indications of the
result of Habit in the progress of the Malevolent Affec-
tions. A man entertains a degree of dislike to his neigh-
bour ; it appears perhaps at first in the form of a mere
unpleasant suspicion ; these suspicious and unpleasant
feelings are frequently indulged ; we see them gradually
growing deeper and deeper, assuming under the influence
of Habit a more fixed and determinate form, and ulti-
mately a^earing in the shape of malignant and perma-
nent hatred.
The law of Habit applies, in the same manner, to the
Benevolent affections. The parental affection is strong
and decided in the very beginning of its existence. But
HABITS OF THE SENSIBILITIES. 407
the dependent situation of the beloved object on whicl:
it fastens, keeps jj almost constantly in exercise. And
thus, unless there are some improprieties in the conduct
of the child, which check and diminish the results natu
rally following under such circumstances, it rapidly ac
quires immense strength. And hence it may be explain
ed in part, that when a son or daughter, in the maturity
of youth or on the verge of womanhood, is taken away
by death, the grief of the parent, always great at such
times, is more intense and excessive than when death
takes place in infancy. The death of the child at the la-
ter period of life not only blasts a greater number of
hopes, but as love, by a long-repeated, cumulative pro-
cess, has been added and incorporated with love, it carries
away, if one may be allowed the expression, a greater
portion of the heart.
We may unquestionably apply these views to all those
affections which are properly characterized as Benevo-
lent, to Friendship, Patriotism, Gratitude, and Sympathy.
He who is so situated that he is required to think much
on the interests and good of his countr)^, and whose love
of country is in this way kept constantly in exercise,
will be found, other things being equal, to exhibit in the
day of trial a more intense ardour of patriotism than oth-
ers. He who, by his untiring attentions to the poor, the
sick, and the prisoner, has kept his sympathetic affections
in action for a long series of years, will find the principle
of sympathy more thoroughly consubstantial in his nature,
and more intensely operative, than if it had lain dormant.
And we may add, that this doctrine, in all its extent, is
applicable to the highest of all the Benevolent affections,
that of love to God. This ennobling principle, this pre-
eminent trait, which allies us not only to just men made
perfect, but to angels, is an improvable one. Under the
influence of Habit, we find it, even in the present life, going
on from one degree of brightness and strength to another.
The more we think of God, tl« more frequently we con-
nect him with all our ordinary transactions, the more will
the broad orb of his glory expand itself to our concep-
tions* and call forth the homage and love of the heart
408 HABITS OF THE SENSIBILITIES.
^ 386. Of the orJgin of secondary active principles.
It is here, in connexion with the views of this Chap-
ter, that we find an explanation of the*brigin of what are
called SECONDARY principles of action. Some individu-
als, for instance, are seen to possess a decided passion for
dress, furniture, and equipage. We are not to suppose
ihat this passion is one which is originally implanted in the
human mind, although it may be so permanent and so de-
cided in its action as to Iiave something of that appearance.
The probability is, setting aside whatever may be truly
interesting or beautiful in the objects, that they are chiefly
sought after, not so much for what they are in themselves,
as for some form of good, particularly some esteem and
honour, to which they are supposed to be introductory and
auxiliary But the desire, existing in the first instance in
reference to some supposed beneficial end, has been so
long exercised, that we at last, in virtue of what may
properly be called a Habit, so closely associate the means
and the end, that it is exceedingly difficult to separate
them. So that, after a time, we apparently have a real
love or affection for the means itself, (the dress, furniture,
equipage, or whatever it is,) independently, in a great de-
gree, of the ultimate object, in connexion with which it
, first excited an interest in us.
There are some men, to illustrate the subject still further,
who appear to have a strong love for money ; we do not
mean property in the more general sense of the term, but
MONEY, the gold and the silver coin in itself considered,
the mere naked issue of the mint. This is one of the va-
rious forms which the too common vice of Avarice some-
times assumes. But we cannot suppose that the love of
money, in this sense of the terms, is a passion connatural
to the human mind, and that men are born with it. It
is loved, in the first instance, simply as a means, subordi-
nate to some supposed beneficial end. The rerson has
looked upon it for years as the means of enjoyment, influ-
ence, aiid honour ; in this way he has formed a Habit of
associating the means and the end ; and they have be-
come so closely connected in his thoughts, that, in ordi-
nary cases, he finds himself unable to separate them.
A2:ain, we are not to suppose that men are born with
HABITS OF THE SENSIBILITIES'. 409
B natural desire for the society of mice and spiders, such
as we have reason to think they naturally entertain tor
that of their fellow-men. But in the entire exclusion of
all human beings, we fmd the principle of sociality, de-
prived of its legitimate and customary sources of gratifi.
cation, fastening itself upon these humble companions
A man, as in the case of Baron Trenck and Count Lau-
zun, may form an acquaintance with these animals, w^hich,
aided by the principle of Habit, will, after a time, exhib-
it a distinctness and intensity, which are commonly char-
acteristic only of the original passions. — In this way there
may unquestionably be formed a series of stcoxDAKV ap-
petites, propensities, and affections, almost without num-
ber. And we have here opened to us a new and inter-
esting view of human nature, capable of being so applied
as to explain many things in the history and conduct of
men, which, however, w^e are not at liberty in this con*
nexion to explore more minutely.
THE SENSIBILITIES.
PART SECOND,
THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES OR CONSCIElSrCE.
MORAL OR CONSCIENTIOUS STATES OF IHE MIND.
MORAL SENTIMENTS
CHAPTER I.
EMOTIONS OF MORAL APPROVAL AND DISAPPROVAL.
6 387. Reference to the general division.
In entering upon the examination of the interestino" and
important department of the mental nature, which now
presents itself to our notice, it is proper to revert a mo-
ment to that general division of the mind which we have
endeavoured throughout to adhere to as the basis of our
inquiries. The general classification, it will be recollect-
ed, was into the Intellect, the Sensibilities, and the Will.
In passing' from the purely intellectual region to that of
the Sensibilities, we first find ourselves in the subordinate
department of the Emotions. And, leaving the emotions,
we may advance onward, and come in contact with the
still more interior and remote department of the Will, ei-
ther by passing through the region of the Desires on the
one hand, or through the space occupied, if we may be
allowed to use such expressions in connexion with the
mind, by the feelings of Moral Obligation on the other.
In accordance with this plan, we made it our first object
CO examine some of the leading emotions which come
under the head of the Natural or Pathematic Sensibilities.
And then, taking the direction of the Desires, endeavour-
ed, in a variety of remarks on the Instincts, Appetites,
Propensities, and Affections, to explain what may prop*
erly be included under that head.
Having completed, in such manner as we are able,
that part of the subject, we propose to return again to the
region of the Emotions, a part of which are included un-
der the general head of the Moral Sensibihties, and to
approach the Will in the op]X)site direction. In carrying
this plan into effect, and in giving a philosophical account
&{ the Moral in distinction fronk the Natural or Pathematic
Sensibilities, we shall not delay to consider the general
question, whether man has a moral nature or not. We
take it for granted that he has. The well-known passaeje
Mm2
414 EMOTIONS OF MORAL APPROVAL AND DISAPPROVAL.
of the Apostle, not to mention other considerations, seems
to be decisive on this point. " For when the Gentiles^
which have not the law, do by nature the things contained
in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto them-
selves ; which show the work of the law written in their
hearts, their Conscience also bearing witness, and their
thoughts the mean while accusing, or else excusing one an^
other,"
^ 388. Classification of the moral sensibilities.
The Moral nature is less complicated than the Pathe-
matic, although the general division of the Moral Sensi-
bilities corresponds precisely to the general division of the
Natural or Pathematic Sensibilities. As the Natural Sen-
sibilities resolved themselves, in the first instance, into the
subordinate classification of the Emotions and Desires, so
the Moral Sensibilities, in a manner precisely correspond-
ing, resolve themselves into the subordinate classification
of moral Emotions and feelings of Moral Obligation. But
both divisions of the Natural Sensibilities, it v^ill be rec-
ollected, viz., the Emotive and the Desirous, were found
to be susceptible of numerous minor divisions. It is not
<!0 in the moral department. The class of moral emotions,
and the obligatory feeling or feelings of moral obligation,
which are based upon them, will be found, exclusive of
%ny subordinate divisions, to comprehend the whole sub-
ject.
li might be supposed, therefore, that this subject would
^e despatched in a few words. And so it would, if the
discussion could properly be limited to the mere exami-
nation J these feelings. But the moral sentiments, both
die emrj'tiv^e and the obligatory, sustain such important
Telationr^, and involve so many important consequences,
that it s-e^ms to be proper, not only to examine them in
their own nature, but also to comdder them, to some ex-
tent, in their multiplied connexions.
^ 389. Nature of the moral emotions of approval and disapproval.
In accordance with what has been said in the foregoing
section, we repeat that there are but two classes of men-
tal states which belong, in strictness of speech, to the
EMOTIONS OF MORAL APPROVAL AND DISAPPROVAL. 416
Moral sensibilities, considered as being by nature an es-
sential portion of the human mind ; although it is very-
true that there are a number of things in the mind, such
as the abstract conceptions of right and wrong, and the
feelings of remorse, which have, both theoretically and
practically, an important connexion with morals. The
floral Nature, properly so called, putting out of view" the
incidental relations it sustains, exists and developes itself,
FIRST, in the moral Emotions, viz., of approval and disap-
proval ; and, second, in the feelings of moral Obligation.
While there are many kinds of the Natural or Pathe-
matic emotions, such as the emotions of beauty, of sub-
limity, of the ludicrous, of cheerfulness, of surprise, of
reverence, of shame, and the like, there is but one kind
or class of Moral emotions. And these are known, con-
sidered as distinct states of mind, by the names by which
they have just been described, viz., as feelings of approval
and disapproval. Of these states of mind we now pro-
ceed to give some account. — And our first remark is, that
they are original feeUngs ; which implies that, in the ap-
propriate circumstances of their existence, they are called
forth by the original or constitutional tendencies of the
mind, and also that they are elementary or simple. Of
course they are not susceptible of definition, since defi-
ning, except that sort of apparent defining which consists
in the mere use of synonymous terms, is predicable only
of what is complex. Hence, in their distinctive or ap-
propriate nature, in that which constitutes them what they
SH-e, considered as separate from anything and everything
else, they cannot be known by description, but by con-
sciousness only. Nevertheless, we are not at liberty to
suppose that their nature is either absolutely unknown,
or, as a general thing, even misunderstood j inasmuch as
the consciousness of such feelings is universal, and as no
form of knowledge, it is generally admitted, is more dis-
tinct to our apprehension than that which has conscious-
ness for its basis. Whoever, J:herefore, has had placed
before him any case of right and wrong of such a nature
that he could have, and did in fact have, a clear appre-
hension of it, in itself and in its relations, must, we sup-
pose, have a knowledge (and if he has not, it is impossi-
416 EMOTIONS OF MORAL APPROVAL AND DISAPPROVAL.
ble he ever should have) of emotions of approval and
disapproval.
i 390. Of the place or position, mentally consideied, of the emotions oJ
approval or disapproval.
Moral emotions, or emotions of moral approval and
disapproval, occupy a place, considered in reference to
other departments of the mind, immediately successive to
intellections or acts of the intellect. — In this respect they
agree with the natural or pathematic emotions, which oc"
cupy the same position. It is, for instance, impossible for
us to feel the beauty of an object, which is an act of the
Natural sensibilities, without first having a perception or
knowledge of the object itself. In like manner, it is im-
possible for us to approve or disapprove a thing, in the
moral sense of the terms, without first having some per-
ception, some knowledge of the thing approved or disap-
proved.
And as the natural emotions are immediately followed
by Desires ; so the moral emotions, viz., of approval and
disapproval, (for these are all the states of mind that are
properly comprehended under that phrase,) are followed,
m like manner, by Obligatory feelings, or feelings of
moral obligation. . The position, therefore, of moral emo-
tions, and they are found nowhere else, is between per-
ceptions or intellective acts on the one hand, and Oblig-
atory sentiments on the other. And as there can be no
moral emotions without antecedent perceptions, so there
can be no feelings of moral obligation without antecedent
emotions of approval and disapproval. Accordingly, if
we are said, in any given case, to be under obligation,
either to do a thing or to abstain from doing it, we may
always find a reason for our thus being under obhgation
in the antecedent action of the mind, viz., in our approval
or 'disapproval, as the case may be, of the thing to which
the obligation relates.
^ 391 . Changes in the moral emotions take place in accordance with
changes in the antecedent perceptions.
If the emotions of approval and disapproval, which are
tlie basis of the subsequent feelings of moral obligation,
are naturally founded upon antecedent perceptions, w^
EMOTIONS OF MORAL APPROVAL AND DISAPPROVAL. 417
may expect, and such is the fact, that they will change in
their character in accordance with changes in those per-
ceptions. If, for instance, a statement of facts is made to
us, clearly establishing in our view a case of great crime,
our emotions of disapproval are prompt and decided. But
if it should happen that afterward some new facts are
mingled in the statement, throwing a degree of doubt
and perplexity upon what was believed to have taken
place, the feelings of disapproval would at once become
perplexed and undecided, in a degree precisely corre-
sponding to the perplexity and indecision that, under the
new circumstances, pervade the intellectual perception in
the case. If still subsequently the introduction of other
new facts should show that what was supposed to be a
crime was directly the reverse, our moral emotions would
undergo a new change, and, instead of condemning the
transaction either more or less decidedly, would approve.
Nor is this changeableness in the character and the
degree of the moral emotions to be regarded as implying
any defect in the moral nature. On the contrary, it is
unquestionably one of the most decisive indications of its
value. If the moral nature were so constituted as not
only to pronounce a thing right or wrong under certain
given circumstances, but necessarily to adhere to that de-
cision under essential changes in the circumstances, it cer-
tainly could not be regarded as a safe rule for men's gui-
dance. A man kills another by means of the infliction
of a heavy blow, and, as we suppose, with evil intention
or malice prepense, and the action is at once disapproved
and condemned by conscience. But it subsequently ap-
pears that the blow, which had the appearance at first of
being intentional, was entirely a matter of accident ; and
the conscience or moral nature immediately conforms its
decision to the new aspect of the transaction, and annuls
the disapproving and condemnatory sentence which it had
before pronounced. If it were otherwise, if it did not
promptly and fully conform it^lf, by changes in its own
action, to antecedent changes in the percipient or cogni-
tive action, it would confound vice and virtue, guilt and in-
nocence ; and, as a rule of moral conduct, would not only
Iml without value, but absolutely and exceedingly injurious.
418 EMOTIONS OF MORAL APPROVAL AND DISAPPROVAL.
^ 392. Of objects of moral approval and disapproval.
We are not to suppose that the sphere of that moral
adjudication, which is involved in the existence of emo-
tions of moral approval and disapproval, extends to all ob-
jects indiscriminately. It is a proper inquiry, therefore,
and in some respects an important inquiry', what are the
appropriate objects of approving and disapproving emo-^
tions. — In answer to this question, we remark in the
first place that such objects are voluntary agents. The
feelings in question, in their announcements of the right
and the WTong of any case that comes before them,
have nothing to do with things without life. And more
than this, they require, as the objects of their exercise,
something more than mere vegetable and animal life, viz.,
intellective, sensitive, and volitive life. In other words,
they require, in the appropriate objects of their adjudica-
tion those attributes of perceiving, feeling, and willing,
which are necessarily implied in voluntary agency.
(II.) In the second place, the legitimate objects of ap-
proval and disapproval are not only voluntary agents, but
MORAL agents. No being is the object of moral emotions,
(that is to say, no being can by possibility be approved
or disapproved in the moral sense of the terms,) except
such as have a conscience or moial nature. It is impos-
sible that any others should have a knowledge of right
and wTong ; and, of course, impossible that they should
conform themselves to the rule of right. Hence no one
regards brute animals as the proper objects of these emo-
tions.
(III.) Again, moral agents (this expression, of course,
implies that they are also voluntary agents) are moral-
ly accountable; in other words, are the proper objects
of moral approval and disapproval, in respect to those
things only which are truly in their powder. This re-
mark, which Hmits the sphere of moral approval and
disapproval not only to moral agents, but to what is ac-
tually in the power of moral agents, is practically an im-
portant one. So far as we can regulate our outward
actions, we are accountable ; that is to say, we are the
proper objects of the emotions of moral approval and
disapproval. So fat as we can regulate the action of the
RELATION OF REASONING TO THE MORAL NATURE. 419
intellect, the sensibilities, and the will, we are accounta*
ble also. So far as the action, whether physical or men-
tal, is either involuntary or instinctive, it is not an appro-
priate object of the notice and adjudication of conscience ;
for all such action, although it belongs to, and is not sep-
arable from, the agent, is nevertheless not under his con-
trol. — Accordingly, when the moral agent, in the exer-
cise of all his various powers, does what he ought to do,
he stands approved. When, in the exercise of the same
powers, he fails to do what he ought to do, he stands
condemned. The extent of his capability is the basis of
his duty ; and the law of conscience is the measure of its
fulfilment. And this simple statement intimates both the
rule by which he is judged, and the vast amount of his
responsibility.
CHAPTER 11.
RELATION OF REASONING TO THE MORAL NATURE.
^ 393. Of the doctrine which confounds reasoning and conscience.
We are now prepared, in view of what has been said
m the last Chapter, particularly in connexion with the
subject of the grounds or principles on which changes
take place in moral emotions, to proceed to another sub-
ject not more interesting than it is practically important
— ^The opinion has sometimes been advanced, that those
moral decisions or judgments, which, as moral beings, we
are capable of formino-, are the direct results of reasoning.
The advocates of this doctrine, rejecting the idea of a
distinct moral principle or conscience, appear to regard
the reasoning power as entirely adequate to the causation
of all those results in the ^nind which have a moral as-
^ct In a word, they may be regarded ehher as deny-
ing entirely the existence of cdhscience, or, what is phil-
osophically, if not practically, the same thing, as identify-
ing it with mere ratiocination.
It is not surprising, on the whole, that this mistake
420 RELATION OF REASONING TO THE MORAL NATURE.
which is certainly a very serious and prejudicial one,
should have been committed, when we consider how
close the relation is which reason sustains to conscience.
It will be noticed that we speak without any hesitation
of the doctrine referred to as a mistaken one. We do
not suppose it to be necessary, after what has already
been said, to attempt to show that reasoning and con-
science are not identical, and that the moral nature has a
distinct and substantive existence. Nevertheless, we free-
ly admit the intimate and important relation which they
sustain to each other. A relation so important, in a prac-
tical as well as in a philosophical point of view, that we
shall delay here for the purpose of entering into some
explanations of it.
^ 394. Of the close connexion between conscience and reasoning.
Reasoning, it will be recollected, is purely an intellect-
ual process; consisting of successive propositions arran-
ged together, and a succession of relative suggestions "or
perceptions, but, in itself considered, involving nothing
which is properly called an emotion or desire. This sin-
gle circumstance separates the reasoning power entirely
from the moral nature ; which, in its appropriate action,
never originates, like the reasoning power, perceptions or
new intellectual views, but merely moral emotions and
feelings of moral obligation. Probably every one can
say with confidence that he is conscious of a diiference
in. the moral emotions of approval and disapproval, and
the mere intellectual perceptions of agreement and disa-
greement, which are characteristic of reasoning. In the
view of consciousness, there can be no doubt that they
are regarded as entirely diverse in their nature, and as
utterly incapable of being interchanged or identified with
"iach other. The moral feeling is one thing ; and the in
ellectual perception or suggestion, involved both in the
ocess and the result of reasoning, is another.
Although the reasoning power and the conscience or
moral being are thus distinct from each other in their
nature, they are closely connected in their relations, as
has been intimated already ; inasmuch as the intellect,
particularly the ratiocinative or deductive Dart of it, is the
RELATION OF REASONING TO THE MORAL NATURE. 421
foundation or basis of moral action. We raust first know
a thing ; it must first be an object of perception before
we can take any moral cognizance of it. And this is not
all. The moral cognizance, as we have already had oc-
casion to explain, will conform itself with great precision
to the intellectual cognizance. That is to say, it will
take new ground in its decisions, in conformity with new
facts perceived. Consequently, we cannot rely perfectly
on a moral decision which is founded upon a premature
or imperfect knowledge. The more carefully and judi-
ciously we reason upon a subject, the more thoroughly we
understand it in itself and its relations, the more confident-
ly may we receive the estimate which the voice of con-
science makes of its moral character.
§ 395. Illustration of the preceding section.
The views of the preceding section may be easily il-
lustrated. When, for instance, one man is alleged to
have stolen the property of another, we find the con-
science, as a general thing, ready to discharge the duty
which the Author of our nature has assigned to it ; but it
is sometimes the case, that its decisions are arrested and
postponed, in order to give time for the inquiries and con-
clusions of the reasoning power. Such inquiries inform
us, perhaps, that the theft was long and coolly premedi-
tated ; and was committed, not only without any special
temptation to it, but with a full knowledge of the aggra-
vation of the crime. In view of this state of things, con-
science immediately passes its decision. Perhaps our in-
quiries inform us, that the theft was committed at a time
of extreme want and consequent great temptation ; and,
furthermore, was committed upon a species of property,
in respect to which the right of individual possession is
regarded by common consent as less strict and exclusive
than in other cases. The conscience here, as in the
former instance, condemns the criminal, but probably with
•a mitigated sentence. On fi^ther inquiry we learn, that
although the property was taken, and that, too, much to
the damage of the owner, it was taken wholly by mis
take; it was a thing entirely accidental. In this case
conscience, adapting itself to the newly-discovced cir
Nn
422 P ELATION OF REASONING TO THE MORIL NATURL.
cnmstances, pronounces the supposed thief altogether
guiltless;
The conscience, therefore, however distinct the two may
be in themselves, is aided and supported by the various
powers of perception and comparison, particularly by the
reason. The reasoning power, how^ever high the rank
which we justly ascribe to it, sustains, in this case at least,
a subordinate position ; and is to be regarded as the ser-
vitor and handmaid of the moral power. And, more-
over, the latter will vary in exact accordance, if there are
no collateral disturbing influences, with the new facts and
the new relations, which are from tiriie to time presented
by the former. — It is in consequence of this close con-
nexion, and the important assistance rendered to con-
science by reason, that they have sometimes been con-
founded together. But it is very essential t^o right views
of the mind that this erroneous notion should be correct-
ed, and that the precise relation, existing between these
two distinct parts of our mental nature, should be fully
understood.
^ 396. Of the training or education of the conscience.
We infer, from what has been said in this chapter, thai
there is such a thing, philosophically considered, as a
training or education of the conscience. We propose to
rem.ark more fully on the subject of moral education in
another place ; but we may properly refer to it a moment
here, in connexion w^ith the views which have now been
taken. No man is at liberty to say, in regard to any
given case, that I am willing to refer this case to con-
science, and to abide by the decisions of conscience,
without first taking the pains to lay the case fully and
fairly before the power that is to sit in judgment upon it
We might as well expect the judge in a court of civil
justice to give an upright decision without facts, without
evidence, and without law, as to expect a correct deci-
sion from the spiritual judge, that exercises authority in
the judgment-seat of the Sensibilities, without a ful ' and
fair presentment of the facts by the Intellect. And when
we say it is necessary to make a full statement of the
facts, we may add further, that they are to be stated not
RELATION OF REASONING TO THE MORAL NATURE. 423
only in themselves, but also in their relations and be£ii^
ings upon each other. — This is one form of moral train-
ing or moral education. In other words, in order to have
a right conscience in respect to the vast multitude of
things, *vhich are the proper subjects of moral adjudica-
tion, it is necessary to extend the field of our knowledge ;
to know much, to think much, to compare much.
^ 397. Of guilt, when a person acts conscientiously.
The question has sometimes been started, Whether a
person is in any case to be considered as guilty, and to
be punished for actions done conscientiously ; for instance,
w^hen certain ignorant Savages are supposed to act con-
scientiously in leaving their aged and infirm parents to
perish. In view of what has been said in this Chapter,
w^e seem to be prepared to answer this question in the af-
firmative.
We have seen that the moral nature, in consequence
of its intimate connexion with the powers of perception
and reasoning, is in some measure under our own control.
On the one hand, it may be enlightened and guided ; on
the other, darkened and led astray, and in some cases be
made to approve of actions of the most unworthy and
sinful kind. Men, therefore, are to have a right con-
science; this great and exalting principle is to receive,
and ought to receive, the very first attention ; and they
are accountable whenever it is neglected. Otherwise we
furnish a very easy and convenient excuse for all the cruel-
ties of the Inquisition, for all the persecutions of the Prot-
estants by the Catholics, for all the persecutions of the
Protestants by each other, for all the acts of unkindness
and tyranny which have ever been exercised upon indi-
viduals and communities.
And the position, that men are accountable and guilty
for having a wrong conscience in proportion to their
means of knowledge and their ability of rectifying the
•onscience, holds good in resp^t to the most ignorant and
degraded Savage tribes, as well as in respect to civilized
nations. It is true, no individual ought to assume the
province of judging in all cases what that degree jof
pruilt is ; for no one is competent to it. All that is meant
424 FEELINGS OF MORAL OBLIGATION.
to be asserted is, that when persons feel an emotion ot
approval in doing wrong, (that is, in doing what is con-
demned by the general moral sentiments of mankind,
and by the will and law of God,) and yet have within
their reach neglected sources of knowledge, v hich, on
being laid open to the mind, would have caused different
feelings, they are criminal for such neglect of the infor-
mation before them, and consequently cannot, under such
circumstances, be rendered otherwise than criminal by
any internal approbation.
CHAPTER III. r
FEELINGS OF MORAL OBLIGATION.
^ 398. Feelings of moral obligation distinct from feelings of morai ap-
proval and disapproval.
It has been remarked in a former chapter, that the
Moral Sensibilities, or Conscience, will be found, on an
examination of its elements, to resolve itself into two
classes of feeUngs, viz.. Moral Emotions, and Obligatory
feelings or feelings of Moral Obligation. Having given
some account of Moral Eiriotions, viz., the feelings of
moral approval and disapproval, which are all the states
of mind that properly come under that head, we are now
prepared to proceed to the consideration of the second
class, viz.. Obligatory feelings.
It is proper to remark here, that this class of mental
states, considered as a separate and distinct class, has re-
ceived but little notice in philosophical systems ; having
generally been confounded, under the famihar designa-
tions of conscience and the moral sense, with the moral
emotions which have already been considered. On this
account, therefore, and also for the reason that they have
an important connexion with the actual operations an^
v;ith the philosophy of the Will, it will be necessary tR
examine them with some degree of care.
^ 399 Proof of the existence of obligatory feelings from consciousness.
Our first inquiry relates to the actual and distinrt ex-
FEELINGS OF MORAL OBLIGATION. 425
istence of the states of mind which now come under con
sideration. The existence of feehngs of this description
is evinced, in the first place, by our own consciousness.
We might safely appeal to the internal conviction and
the recollections of any man whatever, and ask whethei
tliere have not been periods in the course of his life in
which he has experienced a new and authoritative state
of mind : a peculiar, but undefinable species of mental
enforcement, which required him to perform some partic-
ular act, and to avoid doing some other act, even when
his interests and his desires seemed to be averse to the
requisitions thus made upon him 7 And if so, we have
here an instance of moral obhgation, a feeling or senti-
ment of duty, the precise thing which is meant when we
say we ought to do or ought not to do.
Take a common and simple illustration. A person, in
passing along the streets, saw an old man sitting by the
wayside who bore about him the most convincing marks
of want, wretchedness, and sincerity in his applications
for relief; he gave him bread, clothing, and money, con-
scious that it was done, not in view of any personal inter-
est or gratification, or of any selfish object ^vhatever, but
under the impulse and guidance of a pecuUar enforcement
within, such as we commonly have when we speak of
doing our duty; and if so, he then and there had a^ dis-
tinct knowledge of the moral sentiment or feeling under
consideration. And this knowledge was from Conscious-
ness.
(J 400. Further proof from the conduct of men.
The existence of feelings of obligation is further shown
by the general conduct of men. — It cannot be denied that
other motives, distinct from convictions of duty, often op-
erate upon them. Their desires, hopes, fears, sympathies,
their present and future interests, all have an effect. But
it would certainly argue an evil opinion of human nature
•Itogether unwarranted, to maintain that they are never
governed by motives of a more exalted kind. In a mul-
<titude of cases they are found to perform what is incum-
bent upon them in opposition to their fears, in opjx)sition
to their sympathies, and their apparent interests. Differ-
Nn2
426 FEELINGS OF MORAL OBLIGATION.
ent persons will undoubtedly estimate the amount of in-
terested and selfish motives as greater or less, according
as a greater or less portion of the good or evil of human
nature has come within their own cognizance ; but it is
impossible, after a cautious and candid review of the prin-
ciples of human action, to exclude entirely the elements
of uprightness and honour. If there is any truth in his-
tory, there have always been found, even in the most cor-
rupt periods of society, upright and honourable men. And
if we are at liberty to infer men's character from their
actions, as assuredly we are, we may assert with confi--
dence that there are such at the present time. But a man
of true uprightness and honour is one who acts from the
sentiment of duty, the feeling of moral obligation, in dis-
tinction from motives of an inferior kind.
^ 401. Further proof from language and literature.
The existence of obligatory feelings is further proved,
riot only by each one's consciousness, and by the conduct
of men generally, but by language and literature. In
most languages, and probably in all, there are terms ex-
pressive of obligation or a sentiment of duty. No account
could be given of the progress of society, and of the situ-
ation and conduct of individuals, without making use of
such terms. If the words rectitude, crime, uprightness,
virtue, merit, vice, demerit, right, wrong, ought, obliga-
tion, duty, and others of like import, were struck out from
the English tongue, (and the s'ame might be said of other
languages,) it would at once be found unequal to the ex-
pression of the phenomena which are constantly occurring
in the affairs of men. Now, as these terms occur, it is
rational to suppose that they intimate something, that they
liave a meaning, that they express a reality. But it does
not appear how this can be said of them, unless we admit
the actual existence of obligatory feelings.
Turning our attention from single words and phrases,
if w^e enter into an examination of the literature of a lan-
guage, we shall come to the same result. — A great por-
tion of every nation's literature is employed in giving ex-
pression and emphasis to moral principles and sentunents.
They find a conspicuous place in the most valuable spec-
FEELINGS OF MORAL OBLIGATION. 427
Illations, not of professed moralists merely, but of histori-
ans, poets, orators, and legislators. But their frequent
introduction would seem to be altogether misplaced, un-
suitable', and unmeaning, if there were no real and per-
manent distinction between virtue and vice, between the
«acrcd requisitions of duty and those of mere personal in-
tej'est.
^ 402. Further proof from the necessity of these feelings.
' And in connexion with the obseiTations which have
been brought forward, we may further ask. What would
men be, or what would society be, without the basis of
moral obligation ? There must be somewhere a founda-
tion of duty. It does not appear how the bond which
unites neighbourhoods and states can be maintained, with
any requisite degree of permanency and strength, without
something of this kind. Annihilate this part of our con-
stitution, and would not civil society be dissolved ? Would
not violence, and wrath, and utter confusion immediately
succeed ? The natural desire of society, the sympathies,
and the selfish interests of our nature might do something
by way of diminishing these evil results, but could not
wholly prevent them. With the dislocation of the great
controlling principles which regulate the action of the
moral world, there would soon be an utter confusion in
the movements of society, and all the unspeakable evils
attendant on such a state of things.
^ 403. Feelings of obligation simple and not susceptible of definition.
In view of what has been said, we assert v/ith confi-
dence that feelings of moral obligation, or obligatory
feelings, in distinction from the antecedent acts of the
Moral Sensibility, which consist in mere approval and
disapproval, actually have an existence. In looking into
their nature, in distinction from the mere fact of their ex-
istence, although we do not flatter ourselves with being
aMe, by a mere verbal statement, to give a satisfactory
notion of them, we would direct the attention to some
characteristic marks. And the first observation to be
made is, that these states of mind are simple. We can-
not resoiTe them into parts, as we can any complex state
428 FEELINGS OF MORAL OETJGATlON.
of mind. And, as a necessary consequence of this, Ihey
are not susceptible of definition. Still we cannot admit
that this simplicity, and the consequent inability to define
them, renders men ignorant of their nature. It is true
that the man who has never experienced the sentiment of
obligation in his own bosom, can have no better means
of knowing it from the descriptions of others than the
blind man can have for understanding the nature of the
colours of the rainbow. But such a case is hardly a sup-
posable one ; among all the tribes of men, and amid all
the varieties of human degradation, it will probably not
be found to exist ; and we may, therefore, say with con-
fidence, that every man knows what the feeling of obli-
gation is, not less than he knows what the feeling of joy,
of sorrow, and of approval is. In other words, men have
as ready and clear an idea of it as of any other simple
notion or feeling.
^ 404. They are susceptible of different degrees.
In obtaining this knowledge, however, which evidently
cannot be secured to us by any mere process of defining,
we must consult our consciousness. We are required to
turn the mind inward on itself, and to scrutinize the pro-
cess of interior operation on the various occasions of en-
durance, trial, and action, which so often intersect the
paths of life. The same consciousness which gives us a
knowledge of the existence of the feehng and of its gen-
eral nature, assures us, furthermore, that it exists in vari-
ous degrees. This fact may be illustrated by remarks
formerly made in reference to another state of mind. The
word belief is the name of a simple mental state ; but no
one doubts that belief exists in different degrees, which
we express by a number of terms, such as presumption
probability, high probability, and certainty. In like man
ner, the feeling of obligation may evidently exist in van-
ous degrees, and we often express this variety of degrea
by different terms and phrases, such as moral inducement
slight or strong inducement, imperfect obligation, perfec
obligation, &c.
^ 405. Of their authoritative and enforcing nature.
It may be remarked further in respect ^o obligatoi*^
FEELINGS OF MORAL OBLIGATION 429
' feelings, that they always imply action, something to be
done. And again, they never exist except in those cases
where not only action, but effective action, is possible, or
is supposed to be so. We never feel under moral obliga-
tion to do anything which we are convinced, at the same
time, is beyond our power. It is within these limits the
feeling arises ; and, while we cannot define it, we are able
to intimate, though somewhat imperfectly, another char-
acteristic. What we mean will be understood by a ref-
erence to the words enforcement, constraint, or compul-
sion. Every one is conscious that there is something in
the nature of feelings of moral obligation approaching to
the character of enforcement or compulsion ; yet not by
any means in the material sense of those terms. There is
no enforcement analogous to that which may be applied
to the body, and which may be made irresistible.
The apostle Paul says, " The love of Christ constrain-
eth us." What is the meaning of this ? Merely that the
mercy of Christ, exhibited in the salvation of men, exci-
ted such a sentiment of obligation, that they found in
themselves a great unwillingness to resi«:t its suggestions,
and were determined to go forth proclaiming that mercy,
and urging all men to accept it. And it is in reference
to this state of things we so frequently assert that ■\ve are
bound, that we are obliged, or even that we are compell-
ed to pursue a particular course in preference to another
course ; expressions which, in their original import, inti-
mate the existence of a feeling which is fitted by its very
nature strongly to control our volition. But, although
these expressions point to this trait of the feeling, they do
it but imperfectly and indistinctly, and consciousness alone
can give a full understanding of it.
^ 406, Feelings o. jjligation differ from those of mere approval and
disapproval.
It is possible that the question may be started why we
W not class these feelings wkh Emotions, particularly
these of a moral kind. And recognising the propriety of
avoiding an increase of classes where it is not obviously
called for, we shall endeavour to say something, in addi-
tion to what has already b^en intimated, in answer to this
430 FEELINGS OF MORAL OBLlGATIOPr.
question. — ^We have not classed the mental states' under
examination with Emotions, in the first place, because
they do not appear to be of that transitory nature which
seems to be characteristic of all emotions. Ordinarily
they do not dart into the soul with the same rapidity,
shining up, and then disappearing, like the sudden light-
ning in the clouds ; but, taking their position more slowly
and gradually, they remain, like the sun, bright and per-
manent. In the course of an hour a person may experi-
ence hundreds, and even thousands, of emotions of joy or
grief, of beauty or sublimity, and various other kinds.
They come and go, return and depart again, in constant
succession and with very frequent changes ; but it prob-
ably will not be pretended that the feelings of duty, which
are destined to govern man's conduct, and which consti-
tute his most important principles of action, are of such a
rapid, variant, and evanescent nature. A man feels the
sentiment of duty now, and it is reasonable to anticipate,
unless the facts presented to his mind shall essentially al-
ter, that he will feel the same to-morrow, next week,
next month, and next year. He may as well think of
altering and alienating the nature of the soul itself, as of
eradicating these feelings when they have once taken
root, so long as the objects to which they relate remain
the same in the mind's view.
^ 407. Feelings of obligation have particular reference to the future.
A second reason for not classing feelings of obligation
with emotions, particularly moral ones, is the fact that
obligatory sentiments have special reference to the future.
Moral emotions are of a peculiar kind ; they have a char-
acter of their own, which is ascertained by consciousness ;
but they merely pronounce upon the character of objects
and actions that are either past or present ; upon the right
or wrong of what has actually taken place in time past,
or is taking place at the present moment; with the single
exception of hypothetical cases, which are brought before
the mind for a moral judgment to be passed upon them.
But even in these cases, as far as the action of the moral
sense is concerned, the objects of contemplation are in
effect present. The conscience passes its judgment upon
FEELINGS OF MORAL OBLIGATION. 431
the objects in themselves considered ; and that is all. I<
goes no further. ,
But it clearly seems to be different with the feeling?
under consideration. The states of mind involving obli-
gation and duty have reference to the future ; to some-
thing which is either to be performed, or the performance
cif which is to be avoided. They bind us to what is to
come. They can have no possible existence, except in
connexion with what is to be done, either in the inward
feeling or the outward effort. The past is merged in eter-
nity, and no longer furnishes a place for action. Obliga-
tion and duty cannot reach it, and it is given over to ret-
ribution.
§ 408. Feelings of obligation subsequent in time to the moral emotions
of approval and disapproval.
Another and third important circumstance to be taken
into view in making out the distinction under our notice,
is, that the sentuxients or feelings of obligation are always
subsequent in point of time to moral emotions, and can
not pjssibly exist until preceded by them. The state-
ment is susceptible of illustration in this way. Some
complicated state of things, involving moral considera-
tions, is presented before us ', we inquire and examine into
it ; emotions of approval or disapproval then arise. And
this is all that takes place, if we ourselves have, in no
way whatever, any direct and active concern, either pres-
ent or future. But if it be otherwise, the moral emotions
are immediately succeeded by a distinct and imperative
feeling ; the sentiment of obligation, which binds us, as if
it were the voice of God speaking in the soul, to act or
not to act, to do or not to do, to favour or to oppose.
How common a thing it is for a person to say that he
feels no moral obligation to do a thing, because he does
not approve it ; or, on the contrary, that, approving any
proposed course, he feels under obligation to pursue it ;
language which undoubtedly mgans something, and which
implies a distinction between the mere moral emotion and
the feeling of obligation ; and which tends to prove the
prevalence of the common. belief, that obligation is subse-
quent to, and dependent on, approval or disapproval.-
432 FEELINGS OF MORAL OBLIGATION.
On looking at the subject in these points of view, we can-
not come to the conclusion to rank feehngs of obligation
with moral emotions, or with any other emotions, but are
induced to assign them a distinct place. But it is not
surprising, on the whole, that moral emotions are often
confounded with them, w^hen we consider the invariable
connexion between the two just spoken of, and when also
we consider the imperfection of language, which not un-
frequently applies the same terms to both classes of men-
tal states.
^ 409. Feelings of obligation differ from desires.
For the reasons which have now been stated, feelings
of obhgation are not classed with Emotions. We are
next asked, perhaps, why they are not classed under the
general head of Desires. And, in answering this ques-
tion,%e say in the first place, that consciousness clearly
points out a difference. It is believed that few matters
come within the reach and cognizance of consciousness
which can be more readily decided upo» than the differ-
ence between our desires and our feelings of obhgation.
We admit that, in the particular of their fixedness or per-
manency, and also of their relation to the future, the lat-
ter closely approach to the characteristics of the former ;
and yet a little internal examination will detect a distinc-
tion between them which is marked and lasting.
(2.) We may not only consult our own consciousness
in this matter, but may derive information from a notice
of the outward conduct of men. In speaking of men's
conduct, we not unfrequently make a distinction; and
we attribute it sometimes to the mere influence of their
desires or wishes, and at other times to the predominance'
of a sense of duty, which is only another name for a sen-
timent or impulse within, which is morally obhgatory.
But there w^ould evidently be no propriety in this distinc-
tion, if desire and feelings of duty were the same thing ;
and it would certainly be premature and unjust to charge
men with universally making such a distinction w^hen
there are no grounds for it.
<J 410. Further considerayous on this subject.
If there is not a fixed, permanent, and radical distino
UNIFORMITY OF ACTION IN THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 433
tion between desires and feelings of obligation, then there
IS an utter failure of any basis of morality, either in fact
or in theory. It will readily be conceded that morality
im})lies a will, a power of choice and determination. But
tie mere moral emotions, viz., of approval and disappro-
val, do not of themselves reach the Will. They operate
en the Will through the feelings of obligation ; that is to
Vdy, they are always succeeded by the latter feelings be-
fore men are led to action. All other emotions operate
through the Desires. So that the will, in making up its
determinations, takes immediate cognizance of only two
classes of mental states, viz., Desires and Feelings of ob-
hgation. But brute animals, as a general statement, have
all the desires that men have ; we mean all those modiii-
cations of feeling which have been classed und.er that
general head, viz., instincts, appetites, propensities/ the
various forms of affection, as resentment, love, the parent-
al affection, &c. But still, being evidently destitute of
all feelings of obligation, we "never speak or think of them
as possessing a moral character. We never applaud them
for doing their duty, nor punish them for neglecting its
performance. Our treatment of them proceeds on alto-
gether different principles. And it w^ould be the same
with men if they were wholly destitute of feelings of moral
obligation, and had no motives of action but the various
forms of desire. They could never, in that case, be con-
sidered morally accountable. They would be without
reward when they went right, and without rebuke when,
they went wrong.
CHAPTER IV.
UNIFORMITY OF ACTION IN THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES.
^^17. Of uniformity in the decisions «f the moral nature and the prin-
ciple on which it is regii!a'.ed.
The two classes of feelings which have been consider-
ed, viz., moral emotions, by means of which we approve
and disapprove of actions, and the subsequent feeline;s of
o
434 UNIFORMITY OF ACTION IN THE
moral obligation, embrace all the states oj mind which
are properly and strictly included under the head of the
Moral Sensibilities ; although there are a number of col-
lateral or incidental inquiries, some of which are worthy
of notice. One of the most interesting of these inqui-
ries relates to the Uniformity of moral decisions. — In en-
tering upon the subject of the Uniformity of the decisions
of our Moral Nature, we remark, in the first place, that
there are two kinds of uniformity, viz., uniformity in fact
or principle, and uniformity in manifestation or appear-
• ance. Uniformity in principle, which is the most impor-
tant view of the subject, necessarily implies a rule or law,
by means of which the uniformity, which is alleged to ex-
ist, may be measured and known. And the rule or law
upon which the uniformity of the moral nature is unques-
tionably based, is, that its decisions (excepting those ex
tremely perverted acts which may justly be supposed to
imply a state of moral alienation or insanity, and which
do not properly come into consideration here) will in all
cases conform to the facts 'perceived ; in other words, will
conform to the facts and their relations, as they exist in
the view of the intellect.
Estimated by this law, we can hardly entertain a doubt
that the decisions of conscience may justly be regarded
as being, at the bottom, uniform throughout the world.
It is not true, as some seem to suppose, that nature has
established one code of morals for civilized and another
for Savage nations ; one law of rectitude on the banks of
the Thames, and another on the banks of the Ganges ;
but in all parts of the w^orld, in every nation and in eve-
ry clime, on the borders of every river and on the decliv-
ities of every mountain, she utters the same voice, announ-
ces the same distinctions, and proclaims the unchangea-
bleness of her requisitions.
V 412. The nature of conscience, considered as a uniform principle of
action, requires that it should vary in its decisions with circumstances.
It is well known, that one of the greatest and the only
formidable objection which has been brought against the
doctrine of a connatural Moral Sensibility or Conscience,
is a want of uniformity in its decisions ; in other words.
MORAL SENSIBILITffiS. 436
that it approves at one time and in one place what it con-
demns at another time and place. The remarks which
have been made enable us to meet this objection fairly
and satisfactorily. We admit that there is a want of. that
kind of uniformity which, by w^ay of distinction, we have
denominated unij'ormity in manifestation or appearance ;
but it is not true (with the exception of those extreme
perversions which come under the denomination of mor-
al insanity or alienation) that there is a want of uniform-
ity in fact or principle. It is the latter kind of uniformity
only which we are desirous to witness as an attribute of
the conscience. A uniformity of decision, based upon
any other view, would be disastrous to its own authority.
In meeting the objection, therefore, which has been refer-
red to, all we have to do is to show that the moral sense
or conscience conforms to its own law ; in other words,
is uniform in its action, relatively to the facts that are
placed before it.
And our first remark here is, that the nature of con-
science itself involves, that it must vary in its decisions
in accordance with a variation or change of circumstan-
ces. And the important law of its own uniformity not
only permits this, but requires it. As its uniformity exists
in relation to the facts perceived, and involves the uni-
formity or sameness of those facts, it follows that a change
in the facts and their relations will be attended by "a
change in the moral cognizance. The decisions of con-
science, therefore, although erected upon a basis of uni-
formity, and although, in fact, uniform in reference to the
principle which has been laid down, are nevertheless in
their manifestations sometimes exceedingly diverse ; like
the multiplied forms of the kaleidoscope, which, although
they always exist in accordance with fixed optical prin-
ciples, are susceptible of almost every possible variety.
— Going on the supposition, therefore, that the gener-
al uniformity of the decisions of conscience is understood
and acknowledged, we proceed%iow to give some account
of its variations. And, in doing this, shall endeavour to
show that they all take place in entire consistency with
the permanent principles of its own nature ; in other
words, that the uniformity is real, and that the deviations
4»re merely apparent
436 UNIFORMITY OF ACTION IN THE
$ 413. Diversities in moral decisions depei)dent on differences m the
amount of knowledge.
Diversities in the decisions of -conscience will depend,
in the f^rs". place, on difierences in the amount ol' knowl-
edge, whether such differences in knowledge be owing to
differences of intellective power or to any other cause
[n other words, the conscience may be led astray, so fai
as to decide otherwise than it would under other circum-
stances, either by a want of facts, or by a false percep-
tion and estimate of facts. This simple statement, if
properly applied, can hardly fail to explain numerous
mistaken moral judgments, which have been adduced in
opposition to the doctrine of a conscience.
We may illustrate this view of the subject by a case of
this kind. Two men are required to give an opinion on
some question which involves moral duty. The question
we will suppose to be, whether it would be right, in a
supposed case, to attempt a revolution in the civil govern-
ment. Of these two individuals one will pronounce it to
be right, the other will pronounce it to be wrong. — It is
admitted that we have here a manifested or apparent de-
v^iation in the moral action. At the same time, it is un-
questionably the fact, that it is not owing to a difference
of structure in their moral nature, but rather to a differ-
ence in their perceptive and comparing powers.
■ The one who pronounces the attempt to be right, in
-jonsequence of his greater reach of thought, is able to
foresee, after the first convulsive struggles, the subsidence
of the angry passions into a state of permanent quiet, and
'.he reorganization of the convulsed frame of society into
greater strength and beauty. With these views he thinks
it right to attempt to introduce a change into the govern-
ment of the country. The other, whose intellectual vision
Ns more limited, unable to extend the perceptive eye into
the future, sees only the evils of the present moment ; the
discord and clamour, the breaking up of old habifcj and
associations, the agony, and the blood. With these views
he thinks it would be wrong to attempt the change in
question. The moral nature, in each instance, pronoun-
ces according to the light which is placed before it; and
in eacl\ case does what it would naturally be expected
to do
MORAL SEI^SIBILITIES. 437
The want of uniformity in this case, so far from being
an evidence, as some seem to suppose, that there are no
good grounds for the doctrine of a moral sense, is rather
an evidence of the contrary. Akhough there is not an
external or apparent uniformity, there is a uniformity in
principle ; that is to say, the conscience in each case de-
cides according to the facts before it, which is the only
proper ground of decision.
^ 414. Of diversities in moral judgment in connexion with differences
in civil and political institutions.
We may reasonable expect, in the second place, to find
diversities and occasional oppositions of moral judgment,
in connexion with ditfsrences in civil and political insti-
tutions. — This statement might be illustrated by numerous
instances from history. The objectors to a moral nature
maintain, that theft or the unlawfully taking of the prop-
erty of another is a crime ; and that conscience, if it ex-
ists as a part of the mental constitution, will not fail to
condemn it universally. And, in connexion with this, they
bring forward the fact, that in some countries theft, in-
stead of being condemned as it should be, prevails very
much, and is scarcely regarded as a crime. •
Under this head we may properly notice, in particular,
'he statement made by travellers, that some Savage tribes
are very much given to theft. Captain Cook informs us,
that when he visited the Sandwich Islands in 1778, the
'nhabitants exhibited a thievish disposition, taking every-
img which came within their reach. In explanation of
this statement, it is to be remarked, first, that the idea of
theft involves the idea of property ; and that the right of
property is more or less strict and absolute in different
countries and under different political systems. In con-
sequence of the richness of their soil and the favourable
nature of their climate, there is no question that the right
of property was held by the Sandw*xch Islanders to be less
i^ict and exclusive than it is found to be in less produc-
tive countries. The familiar distinction of meum and
TUUM^ of our own and another's, was not so clearly drawn
and so strenuously adhered to as it generally is in civili-
zed nations ; and the probability is, that nearly all the
Oo2
43S UNIFORMITY OF ACTION IN THE
various forms of property were held in common. As the
right of property was in their estimation less strict, the vio-
lation of it was less criminal ; and they did not look upon
the offender with that decided disapprobation which in
other places would attach to him in taking the same arti-
cles. They probably regarded him with nearly the same
feelings with which we regard a man who, in passing
through an orchard that belongs to us, takes a few apples,
or who occasionally draws water from our well. He takes
our property, it is true ; but as the right of property in
those cases is held by common consent to be a loose or
mitigated one, we do not call it theft nor regard it as
criminal.
And further, in looking at Captain Cook's account a
little more minutely, we see evidence in the narration it-
self of the correctness of this view. " At first," he says,
" on entering the ship, they endeavoured to steal every-
thing they came near, or rather to take it openly, as what we
either should not resent or not hinder. ^^ In another place
he says, in explanation of their conduct, " they thought
they had a right to everything they could lay their
hands on." We learn also, that, after they were made
to understand the English notions of property, and the
penalty attached to a violation of .t, they soon laid aside
such conduct.-— It is obvious, if they had attached the
same ideas to taking property which we attach to steal-
ing, they would not have taken it openly, as much so as
if they supposed they either had a right to it, or that the
owners would not resent or hinder their taking it.
i) 415. Of diversities and obliquities of moral judgment in connexior^
with speculative opinions.
Wo may reasonably expect, in the third place, that
there will be diversities of moral judgment, based upon
diversities in important speculative opinions in morals,
politics, and religion, and, in truth, upon almost any sub-
ject. — Some years since the speculative opinion seems to
have been prevalent through nearly the whole of the civ-
ilized world, that the Negroes were an inferior race, lo-
cated in the graduation of rank somewhere between the
brute animals and man. This was the speculative belief.
And what has been the consequence 1 The fires of deso-
MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 439
lation have been kindled upon the coast of Africa ; vifia-
ges and towns have been destroyed ; a continual war has
been kept up among the native tribes ; and probably for-
ty millions of persons have been torn away from their na-
tive country, and consigned to perpetual slavery.
While this erroneous speculative opinion held posses-
sion, to a considerable extent, of the minds of men, the
authority of conscience was paralyzed ; her voice, if it
was heard at all, was feeble, and scarcely excited no-
tice. And why should it be otherwise ? If the Negroes
are truly an inferior race to white men, darkened in intel-
lect and imbruted in the affections, incapable of taking
care of themselves, and still more of any intellectual and
social advancement, what harm is there in bringing them
into vassalage, and making them grind, like the brute an-
imals to which they are so nearly related, in the prison-
house of the more favoured species 1 The difficulty is
not so much with the conscience as with the erroneous
opinion.
We learn from the Memoirs of the Rev. John Newton,
of England, a man as much distinguished for his piety
as for his intelligence and eloquence, that he was for
some years j:)ersonally engaged in the Slave Trade ; and
that, too, after he had professed, and to all appearance
with great sincerity, to be guided by the principles of the
Christian religion. Such were the prevalent notions in
regard to the blacks, that the traffic does not appear to
have occurred to him as being morally wrong. He ex-
pressly says : " During the time I was engaged in the
Slave Trade, I never had the least scruple of its lawful-
ness." He pm-sued it without any of those compunctious
visitings, which could not fail to have troubled him if he
had regarded them, as surely they ought to be regarded,
as children of the same common parent, and as partici-
pators, in the view of unprejudiced justice, in the same
common inheritance of natural-rights.
$ 416. Further illustrations of the influence of wrong speculative opin-
ions.
The speculative opinion has formerly existed very ex-
tensively, and does still to some degree, tliat the civil au-
440 UNIFORMITY OF ACTION IN THE
thonty has a right, in relation to its own subjects, to ex-
act conformity in the matters of rehgion. And the result
has been, that thousands and hundreds of thousands, at va-
rious times and in different countries, haveLeen subjected
to imprisonment, the torture, exile, and death. And those
who have been the leading agents in these horrible trans-
actions, from the persecutors of the Primitive Christians
down to the Lauds and Bonners of later times, have per-
petrated them, in their own estimation, with washed hands
and a pure heart. They have gone from the Oratory to
the dungeon of the Inquisition ; they have, with unques-
tionable sincerity, looked up to Heaven for a blessing, as
they have applied to their mangled victims the screw and
the wheel of torture ; they have arisen from the knee o^
supplication to kindle with a pious haste the fires t..
Smithfield, and to wield the exterminating sword of the
St. Bartholomew. They have done all this merely in
consequence of entertaining a wrong speculative opinion
conscientiously.
^ 417. Influence of early associations on moral judgments
Our moral judgments, in the fourth place, are some-
times perplexed and led in a direction different from what
they w^ould otherwise be, by means of early associations.
— The principle of association does not operate upon the
moral capacity directly ; it operates indirectly with con-
siderable influence. When a particular action is to be
judged of, it calls up in the minds of different individuals
different and distinct series of accessory circumstances.
It has the effect to place the thing, intellectually consid-
ed, in a different position. This difference in the tenden-
cies of the associating principle can hardly fail to have
considerable effect in modifying the sentiment of appro-
bation or disapprobation resulting from the consideration
of any particular action.
Accordingly, when vices are committed by near friends,
by a bro<-her or a parent, although they fill us with the
deepest grief, (perhaps much greater than we should feel
in the case of those who did not sustain so near a relation,)
it is frequently the case that they do not excite within
us such abhorrence of the actual guilt as we should be
MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 441
Ifkely t.i feel in other cases. Our prepossessions in favour
of the persons who have committed the crime, suggest a
thousand circumstances which seem to us to alleviate its
aggravation. We frame for them a multitude of plausi-
ble excuses, which we should not have thought of doing
had it not been for the endearments and intercourse o?
our previous connexion.
Savage life also gives us an illustration of the views
now expressed. Owing to the peculiar situation of those
in that state, and the consequent early associations, a fac-
titious and exaggerated importance is attached to mere
courage ; and gentleness, equanimity, and benevolence
are, as virtues, proportionally depressed. In this w^ay their
moral judgments are not unfrequently perplexed and ren-
dered erroneous.
418. Of diversities in the moral judgment in connexion with an exci-
ted state of the passions.
Furthermore, there may be diversities of moral judg-
ment ; in other w^ords, the moral nature may occasionally
be perplexed and led astray in its action, under the influ-
ence of a state of excited passion. — The action of all the
parts of the mind is a conditional one ; that is to say, it
takes place only under certain assignable circumstances.
It is, for instance, one condition of moral action, as we have
repeatedly had occasion to notice, that there must be an
antecedent perception of the thing, whatever it is, upon
which the moral judgment is to be passed. This con-
dition of moral action is violated in the case under con-
sideration, as well as in others. In a time of great ex-
citement of passion, the moral emotion which would have
existed under other circumstances has failed to arise, be-
cause the soul is intensely and wholly taken up with an-
other species of feeling. The perceptive and comparing
part of the mind is not in a situation to take a right view
of the subject, whatever it;is. But after the present pas-
silfn has subsided, so as to give the person an opportunity
to inquire and reflect, the power of moral judgment re-
turns. And at once the individual, who has been the
subject of such violence of feeling, looks with horror on
the deeds which he has committed.
442 MORAL EDUCATION.
In this, and in all the cases which have been mentioned,
the conscience will probably be found to be in harmony
with itself. Its defective judgments are not owing to
any defect in its own nature ; but to the circumstance,
owing to ignorance, to early training, prejudice, wrong
associations, and inordinate passion, and perhaps some
other causes similar in their results, that an imperfect or
distorted view of the facts has been presented before it
CHAPTER V.
MORAL EDUCATION.
^419. Suggestions on the importance of moral education.
We do not feel at liberty to leave the subject of the
Moral Sensibilities without offering a few remarks, chief-
ly of a practical nature, on the subject of moral educa-
tion in general. It is perhaps unnecessary to occupy time
in attempting to show the importance of such education,
since no one can be ignorant of the deplorable consequen-
ces which follow from an utter neglect of it. But, not-
withstanding the general concession of its importance, it
has ever held a subordinate rank, compared with that
purely intellectual education which deals wholly with the
mere acquisition of knowledge.
While no one presumes to assert that moral education
is unimportant, it must be acknowledged that it has been
exceedingly neglected, in consequence of the greater
value which has generally been attached to that training
of the mind which has exclusive relation to its intel-
lectual part. Children and youth have been taught with
great zeal in everything where the head is concerned ; in
grammar, geography, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy,
and the like ; and in almost nothing which concerns the
heart No pains have been spared in favour of the intel-
lect, w^hile the sensitive part of our nature, the moral emo-
tions, the lower modifications of desire, and the affections,
have been left to take care of themselves.
MORAL ELUCATION. 443
Supposing this to be nearly the true state of things,
every reflecting mind must contemplate it with regret,
and will look forward with great interest to the time^
when moral education shall at least be put on a footing
with intellectual, if it do not take the precedence of it
Certain it is, that a firm and ample foundation is laid for
this species of mental training, if the doctrines w^hich
have been advanced in the course of this Work are cor-
rect; FIRST, that we have intellectually the power of
forming the abstract conceptions of ri^ht and wrong, of
merit and demerit, which necessarily mvolves that there
is an immutable standard of rectitude ; and, second, that,
in the department of the Sensibilities, we have, in corre-
spondence with the. fact of such an immutable standard,
the implanted principle of the Moral Sensibility or Con-
science, which, in the Emotive form of its action, indi-
cates our conformity to the standard of rectitude or diver-
gency from it, and in its Obligatory action authoritatively
requiies conformity. We assert that we have here basis
enough for a consistent and durable moral education;
especially when we take into view the close connexion
existing between the conscience and the intellect, partic-
ularly the reasoning power.
^ 420. The mind early occupied either with good or bad principles.
It may perhaps be" suggested here, admitting the gen-
eral fact of the great importance of moral education, that
it would be better to leave the subject of morals until
persons are old enough to decide on all subjects of this
nature for themselves. This suggestion would be entitled
to more weight, if it were possible, in the mean while, for
the mind to remain a moral blank. But this does not
appear to be the case. As the mind is continually opera-
tive, it is almost a matter of course that it receives, and,
as it were, incorporates into itself, n/oral principles either
rio-ht or wrong. We are surrounded with such a variety
•f active influences, that he who is not irnbued with good
cannot reasonably expect to b*uncontaminated with evil.
In order, therefore, to prevent the contaminations of vice,
it is necessary to preoccupy the mind by the careful in-
troduction and the faithful cultivation of the elements of
444 MORAL EDUCATION.
virtue. Let the young mind, therefore, the minds of chii
dren and youth, be made the subjects of assiduous mora-
culture.
^ 421. Of the time when moral instruction ought to commence.
We cannot but conclude, therefore, that a course of
moi al training ought to be commenced at an early period.
It is a truth sufficiently established, that we begin to
learn as soon as we begin to exist. The infant no sooner
comes into the world, than the mind expands itself foi
the reception of knowledge, as naturally as the fiowei
opens its rejoicing leaves to the rising sun. The earnest-
ness which it discovers as it turns its eye towards the
light or any bright object, its expression of surprise on
hearing sudden and loud sounds, its strong propensity to
imitate the actions and words of its attendants, all show
most clearly that the work of intellectual developement
is begun.
While no one doubts this early developement of the
intellect, it has not been so generally admitted to be true
of the pathematic and moral part of our nature. But
there is no sufficient ground, as we have already had oc-
casion to intimate, for a distinction in this respect ; the
developement of the head and the heart, of the intellect
and the sentient nature, begins essentially at one and the
same time. It is true that the percieptive or intellectual
action is necessarily antecedent in the order of nature ; but
the sensitive action, both natural and moral, follows closely
and perseveringly in its train. And this also may be ad
ded, viz., that the developement of the moral nature in its
leading outlines appears to be sooner completed. Facts
and the relations of facts, which are the subjects of the
intellectual activity, are infinite. But the great princi-
ples of morals, however multiplied they may be in their
appUcations, are in themselves few and simple. How
few persons, at the age of fourteen or sixteen years, have
completed their attainments in knowledge, and have fully
unfolded and strengthened all their intellectual powers !
And yet how many at the same ^^e have established
such a decided moral character, either for good or evil, as
almost to preclude a hope of a correction of its d<»formi-
MORAL EDUCATION. 445
ties in the one case, or the enhancement of its beauties
in the other !
^ 422. Of the discouragements attending a process of moral instruction.
And here we would remark upon one discouragement
which frequently attends the efforts of those who are so
situated as to render it especially their duty to impart in-
struction to the young. We refer to the fact that it is
sometimes, and but too frequently, the case, that they.see
but little immediate good results from their labours. They
can see distinctly the advancement of their pupils in that
knowledge which is appropriate to the intellect, but are
less able to measure their progress in what pertains to the
moral culture. Indeed, they too often believe that their
instruction is seed sown upon stony ground, which is not
only unproductive at present, but is absolutely and for-
ever lost.
This is a great mistake. The truth is, that nothing is
lost. The moral and religious instruction which is com-
municated to the youthful memory, is deposited in the
keeping of a power which may sometimes slumber, but
can never die. It may long be unproductive ; it may re-
main for years without giving signs of vivification and of
an operative influence ; and yet it may be only waiting
for some more favourable and important moment, when it
shall come forth suddenly and prominently to view. No
one, therefore, ought to be discouraged in the discharge
of this duty. In nothing is the Scriptural declaration
more likely to be fulfilled in its richest import. " Cast
thy bread upon the waters, and thou shalt find it after
many days."
Multitudes of illustrations might be introduced to con-
firm the views of this section. How natural is the fol-
lowing incident ! And how agreeable, therefore, to sound
philosophy ! — " When I was a little child," said a religious
man, " my mother used to bid me kneel beside her, and
•■place her hand upon my hea^ while she prayed. Ere I
was old enough to know her Worth, she died, and I was
left much to my own guidance. Like others, I was in-
chned to evil passions, but often felt myself checked, and,
as it were, drawn back by the soft hand upon my head
Pp
446 . MORAL EDUCATION
When I was a young man I travelled in foreign lands,
and was exposed to many temptations ; but when I would
have yielded, that same hand was upon my head, and I
was saved. I seemed to feel its pressure as in the days
of my happy infancy, and sometimes there came with it a
voice in my heart, a voice that must be obeyed ; Oh, do
not this wickedness, my son, nor sin against thy God."
^ 423. Of the importance, in a moral point of view, of adopting correct
' speculative opinions.
But, while we assert that there is ample basis in the
mental constitution for a moral education, that this edu-
cation ought to be commenced at an early period, and
that such a course of training has its due share of encour-
agements, we acknowledge that it is not an easy thing Ut
a few words to point .out the characteristics, and to indi-
cate the outlines of a system of moral culture. Accord-
ingly, we shall not attempt it any further than to add a
few general suggestions. We proceed, therefore, to re-
mark, Ifhat suitable pains ought to be taken to introduce
into the young mind correct speculative opinions.
It was seen in a former Chapter that the conscience
acts in view of the facts which are before it. It will fol-
low, therefore, if we adopt wrong opinions, whatever they
may be, they will have an effect upon the conscience.
If these opinions be important, be fundamental, they will
be likely to lead us in a course which, under other cir-
cumstances, ATe should regard as wrong in the very high-
est degree. The belief that men by nature possess equal
rights, is in itself nothing more than a speculative opinion ;
but this opinion, simple and harmless as it may seem in
its enunciation, is at this moment shaking thrones, unbind-
infy the chains of millions, and remodellins: the vast fabric
of society. The opinion that the rights of conscience are
inalienable, and that no one can regulate by violent means
the religion of another, is breaking the wheel of torture,
and quenching the fire of persecution, and quickening into
life the smofhered worship of the world. The speculative
opinion that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, appeared in the
form of man, and .by his death made an atonement for
sin, is a truth, simple and ineffective as it may at f-rst
MORAL EDUCATION. 447
Sight appear, which has already changed the face of do-
mestic and civil society, and, like a little leaven which
leaveneth the whole lump, is secretly regenerating the
whole mass of human nature.
We infer, therefore, that it is highly important to con-
sider well what truths we adopt. The doctrine that it is
no matter what we believe, if we are only sinceie in it, is
derogatory to the claims of human reason, and full of
danger. What persecutor, what tyrant, what robber,
what assassin may not put in his claim for a sort of sin-
cerity, and, in many cases, justly too ? It is a sincerity, a
conscientiousness based on all the wisdom which human
intelligence, in its best efforts, can gather up, and nothing
short of this, which stands approved in the sight of hu-
man reason and of a just Divinity.
6 424. Of th# knowledge of the Supreme Being, and of the study of
religious truth generally.
And, in connexion with what has been said in the pre-
ceding section, we proceed to remark further, that all
morality must necessarily be defective, in a greater or less
degree, which proceeds on the principle of excluding re-
ligion. It is true that a man who is not religious, (in
other words, who has not a sincere regard for the' char-
acter and institutions of the Supreme Being,) may do some
things which, in themselves considered, are right and are
morally commendable ; but he does not do all that is right ,
he comes short in the most essential part. And his fail-
ure there renders it difficult, perhaps we may say impos-
sible, to speak of him, with any degree of propriety and
truth, as a right, that is to say, as a just or holy person.
♦ We assert, therefore, that moral education must include,
as a leading element, some instruction in regard to tiie
existence and character of God, and those religious duties
which are involved in the fact of his existence and char-
acter. Our conscience, the office of which is to adjust
^ur duties to our ability and the relations we sustain, im-
peratively requires this. In the eye of an enlightened in-
tellectual perception, God stands forth distinct from, and
pre-eminenf above all others, as an object infinitely ex-
alted ; and a want of love to his character and of adhe-
448 MORAL EDUCATIO::^.
sion to his law is, in the view of conscience, a crime so
grossly flagrant in itself as not to be atoned for by any
other virtue. And not only this ; a proper regard for the
character of the . Supreme Being has such a multiplicity
of bearings and relations, in consequence of the diffusion
of his presence, and the multiplicity of his acts and re-
quirements, 'that the crime involved in the want of it
seems to spread itself over the infinite number of transac-
tions which, taken together, constitute the sum of life.
So that the doctrine of the existence of God, received into
the intellect, and attended, as it should be, with perfect
love in the heart, ii^, CKiyond all question, the great found*
ation and support of a truly consistent moral life.
THE SENSIBILITIES, OR SENSITIVE
NATURE.
SENSITIVE STATES OF THE MIND OR SENTIMENTS.
PART THIRD
IMPERFECT OR DISORDERED SENSITIVE ACTION.
Pp2
CHAPTER I. .
mSORLERED AND ALIENATED ACTION OF THE APPETITES AND
PROPENSITIES.
^ 425. Introductory remarks on disordered sensitive action.
With what has now been said on the subject of our
moral nature, we bring the interesting and important de-
partment of the Sensibihties, in its two leading forms of
the Natural or Pathematic Sensibilities, and of the Mo"al
Sensibilities, to a conclusion. In saying this, however,
w^e have reference to its regular and ordinary action, or
that action which takes place in accordance with the or*
dinar}" and permanent principles of the Sensitive nature.
But it remains to be added further, that there are instan-
ces here, as well as in the Intellect, of marked and disas-
trous deviations from the salutary restraint which these
principles impose. In other v/ordg, there is not unfre-
quently an action of the Sensibilities which is so far out
of the ordinary or natural line of the precedents of the
heart and the morals, that it may be properly described,
sometimes as an imperfect or disordered, and sometimes
as an alienated action. — It is to the examination of this
subject, a knowledge of which is obviously necessaiy to
a comprehensive and complete view of the Sensibilities,
that we now propose to proceed.
^ 426. Of what is meant by a disordered and alienated state of the
sensibihties.
It may be proper to remark here, that an imperfect or
disordered action of the Sensibilities may express merely
an irregularity of action, something out of the common
and ordinary course of action ; or, as the form of expres-
sion is obviously a somewhat general and indefinite one,
i^ may indicate something more. When, for instance,
this irregular and disordered sfate passes a certain limit,
goes beyond a certain boundary w^hich is more easily
conceiv(»d than described, it becomes Insanity or Aliena-
tion. That is to say, the merely irreojular action becomes
452 DISORDERED AND ALIENATED ACTION
an inscine or alienated action, when it becomes so great,
so pervading, and so deeply rooted in the mind, that th?
individual has no power of restoration in himself. So that
it would seem to follow, in view of this remark, that there
may be a disordered state of the mind which is insanity ;
and, under other circumstances, a disordered state of the
mind which is not insanity, or, rather, which is less than
insanity. But in either case this condition of mind is not
to be regarded, nor is it, in point of fact, a sound mental
state. Although we may not be able to say specifically,
in a given case, that the disorder has reached the point
of insanity, yet it is certain that the mind in this disor-
dered state, whether the disorder be greater or less, is
presented to our view in a new and important aspect.
Unquestionably, a wide and interesting field of remark
IS opened here. Nevertheless, w^hat we have, to say will
necessarily be brief, indicating rather the general trains
of thought which naturally present themselves, than fol-
lowing them out into minuteness of detail. And in exe-
cuting this plan, imperfect as it can hardly fail to be, we
shall conform, so far as may be practicable, to those class-
ificaticas of our Sensitive nature which have hitherto
helped to aid our inquiries.
<J 427. Of the disordered and alienated action of the appetites.
Accordingly we remark, in the first place, that there
may be a disordered and alienated action of the Appe-
tites. — It is well known that the appetites grow stronger
and stronger by repeated indulgence. While the process
of increased appetitive tendency is going on, there still
remains, in the majority of cases, enough of remonstrance
in the conscience, and of restrictive and aggressive energy
in the Will, to ward off that state of thraldom which is
rapidly approaching. But in some melancholy cases it
is otherwise ; the line of demarcation, which separates the
possibility and the impossibility of a restoration, is passed ;
and from that time onward there is nothing but inter-
mmable sinking. Such cases as these may undoubtedly
be regarded as coming within the limits of some of the
multiplied forms of mental alienation.
The most frequent instances of meixtal alienation, ori-
OF THE APPETITES AND PROPENSITIES. 453
ginating in a disordered and excessive energy of the ap-
petites, are to be found in that numerous class of persons
who habitually indulge in the use of intoxicating drugs,
particularly ardent spirits. When the person who indul-
ges in the use of intoxicating liquors has so increased the
energy of this pernicious appetite as really to bring him-
self within the limits of mental alienation, there is no hope
of a return by means of any effort which he himself is
capable of making. He may have a clear perception of
the misery of his situation ; the desire of esteem may still
arouse within him the recollection of what he once was
and of what he still ought to be ; the conscience may still
speak out in remonstrance, though probably with a dimin-
ished voice ; the will may continue to put forth some in-
effectual struggles ; but it is found to be all in vain. If
left to himself, and not put under that constraint which
is proper to persons in actual insanity, it may be regarded
as a matter of moral certainty that he w^ill plunge deeper
and deeper in the degrading vice of which he is the sub-
ject, so long as the remaining powers of life shall support
him in the process.
The individuals who are in this situation seem them-
selves to have a consciousness of this. They see clearly
that in their own strength there is no hope. In repeated
instances such persons have gone to keepers of peniten-
tiaries and other prisons, and earnestly entreated for ad-
mission, on the ground that nothing short of strict seclu-
sion within their massy walls would secure them against
the ruinous indulgence of their appetite. — " The use of
strong drink," says Dr. Rush, (Diseases of the Mind, ch.
X.,) " is at first the effect of free agency. From habit it
takes place from necessity. That this is the case, I infer
from persons who are inordinately devoted to the use of
ardent spirits being irreclaimable, by all tlie considera-
tions which domestic obligations, friendship, reputation,
tiroperty, and sometimes even by those which religion
and the love of life can sugge* to them. An instance of
insensibility to the last, in an habitual drunkard, occurred
some years ago in Philadelphia. When strongly urged,
by one of his friends, to leave off drinking, he said, * Were
a keg of rum in one corner of a room, and were a cannon
454 DISORDERED AND ALIENATED ACTION
constantly discharging balls between me and it, 1 coulcf
not refrain from passing before that cannon in order to
get at the rum.' "
<5» 428. Disordered action of the principle of self-preservation.
As we advance upward from the Appetites to the re-
gion of the Propensities, such as the principle of self-pres-
ervation,- the desire of knowledge, the desire of society,
and the like, we shall find the latter, as well as the for-
mer, probably without mi exception, subject, in certain
individuals, to a greater or less degree of what may be
termed a diseased or disordered action. We begin with
the propensive principle of Self-preservation, or what
may be designated in other terms as the natural desire
of a continuance of existence. This principle, like the
others of the same class, although not generally in so
marked a degree, will sometimes manifest itself under
such circumstances and in such a manner as obviously
to show that its action is not a natural, regular, or healthy
action. Persons under the influence of the disordered
action of the principle which is connected with the pres-
ervation of life, multiply, as they would be naturally sup-
posed to do, images of danger and terror w^hich have no
existence, nor likeness of existence, except in their ow^n
disordered minds. They not only see perils wdiich are
invisible to others, but are led to take a multitude of pre-
cautions which, in the estimation of those around them,
are altogether unnecessary, and even ridiculous.
Pinel, under the head of Melancholy, mentions a case
which may be considered as illustrating this subject. "A
distinguished military officer," he says, " after fifty years
of active service in the cavalry, was attacked with dis-
ease. It commenced by his experiencing vivid emotion?
from the slightest causes ; if, for example, he heard any
disease spoken of, he immediately believed himself to be
attacked by it ; if any one was mentioned as deranged
in intellect, he imagined himself insane, and retired into
his chamber full oi melancholy thoughts and inquietude.
Everything bev^ame for him a subject of fear and alarm.
If he entered into a house, he was afraid that the floor
would fall and precipitate him amid its ruins. He could
OF THE APPETITES AND PROPENSITIES. 455
not pass a bridge without terror, unless impelled by the
sentiment of honour for the purpose of fightmg."*
§ 429. Disordered and alienated action of the possessory principle.
There are instances, occurring with a corxsiderable de-
gree of frequency, of a disordered or alienated action of
the desire of possession, or the Possessory principle. Some
of these are voluntary ; that is to say, are brought about
by a course of action, of which the responsibility rests
upon the individual. Others appear to be congenital or
natural. — Among the class of confirmed misers, we shall
be likely, from time to time, to find instances of the first
class. There are individuals among this class oi' persons
who have so increased the energy of the Possessory prin-
ciple (Acquisitiveness, as it is sometimes conveniently
termed) by a long voluntary course of repetition, that its
action is no longer under the control of the Will, but has
obviously passed over into the region of mental alienation.
Such probably must have been the case with a certain indi-
vidual mentioned by Valerius Maximus, who took advan-
tage of a famine to sell a mouse for two hundred pence,
and then famished himself with the money in his pocket.
— It is difficult to tell, however, although a person may
unquestionably become insane in his avarice, whether this
is actually the case in any given instancGf^ or whether,
notwithstanding its intensity, it falls in some degree short
of alienation.
^ 430. Instances of the second kind or form of disordered action of
the possessory principle.
There are other instances of the disordered action of
the principle of Acquisitiveness, which appear to be con-,
genital or constitutional. In the case of the persons to
whom we now have reference, the disposition to get pos-
session of whatever can be regarded as property, whether
of greater or less value, shows itself, not only in great
s!iengfti, but at a very early period of life. There are a
considerable number of cases of this kind to be found in
the writings of Gall and Spurzheim ; and there are some
notices of similar cases in a few other writers. Dr, Rush,
» Pinel, as quoted in Combe's Phrenology, Boston ed. p. 241
456 DISORDERED AND ALIENATED ACTION
for instance, in his Medical Inquiries, mentions a woman
who was entirely exemplary in her conduct except in
one particular. " She couJd not refrain from, stealing.
What made this vice the more remarkable was, that she
was in easy circumstances, and not addicted to extiava-
g-ance in anything. Such was the propensity to this vice,
that, when she could lay her hands on nothing more val-
uable, she would often, at the table of a friend, fill her.
pockets secretly with bread. She both confessed and la-
mented her crime."
Some of the facts which are given by Dr. Gall are as
follows. — " Victor Amadeus I., King of Sardinia, was in
the constant habit of stealing trifles. Saurin, pastor at
Geneva, though possessing the strongest principles of rea-
son and religion, frequently yielded to the propensity to
steal. Another individual was from early youth a victim
to this inclination. He entered the military service on
purpose that he might be restrained by the severity of
the discipline ; but, having continued his practices, he was
on the point of being condemned to be hanged. Ever
seeking to combat his ruling passion, he studied theolpgy
and became a Capuchin. But his propensity followed
him even to the cloister. Here, however, as he found
only trifles to tempt him, he indulged himself in his
strange fancy with less scruple. He seized scissors, can-
dlesticks, snuffers, cups, goblets, and conveyed them to his
cell. An agent of the government at Vienna had the
singular mania for steaUng nothing but kitchen utensils.
He hired two rooms as a place of deposite ; he did not
sell, and made no use of them. The wife of the famous
physician Gaubius had such a propensity to pilfer, that,
when she made a purchase, she always sought to take
something."*
<J 431. Disordered action of imitativeness, or the principle of imitation.
The proof that there is in man a principle of imitation,
which impels him to do as others do, is so abundant as
probably to leave no reasonable doubt upon the candid
mind. This principle, as "compared with its ordinary op-
eration and character, is found in some individuals to ex-
* Gall's Works, vol. iv., Am. ed., p. 132.
OF THE APPETITES AND PROPENSITIES. 457
hibit an irregular or diseased action. M. Piiiel, as he
is quoted by Dr. Gall, speaks of an idiot woman " who
had an irresistible propensity to imitate all that she saw
done in her presence. She repeats, instinctively, all she
hears, and imitates the gestures and actions of others
with the greatest fidehty ; and without troubling herself
with any regard to propriety."* — Under the form of
Sympathetic Imitation, the disordered action of this prin-
ciple becomes very important ; so much so, that we shall
leave the subject here for the purpose of considering it
more at length than we could otherwise do, in a separate
chapter.
^ 432. Disordered action of the principle of sociality.
The principle of Sociality, obviously one of the im-
planted propensities of our nature, may exist with such a
degree of intensity as justly to entitle its action to be
called a disordered, and, in some cases, even an alienated
action. In connexion with this remark, it may be proper
to revert a moment to the precise idea which we attach
to the term alienation, considered as expressive of a state
or condition of the mind. There may be an imperfection
of mental action, there may be a disorder of mental ac-
tion, which is nevertheless not an alienation of mental
action. The term alienation properly applies to those
forms of mental action which are so much disordered as
to set at defiance any efforts of the Will to control them ;
in a word, they are involuntary. So that, in aqpordance
with this statement, there may be either a disordered
state of the principle of sociality or of any other princi-
ple, (that is to say, one which is irregular, but still is sus-
ceptible of correction under the efforts of the will ;) or
there may be, when this disorder is found to exist beyond
certain limits, an alienated, an insane state. But, although
this distinction should be fully understood, it is not neces- |
sary, in the remarks which, for the most part, we have oc-
casion to make, that we should always keep it distinctly
m view.
But to return to our subject. An irregular action of
he so<"ial principle, whether it be truly alienated or exist
♦ Gall's Works, vol. i., p. 320.
Qq
458 DISORDERED AND ALIENATED ACTION
in some lighter form of disorder, may show itself in twu
aspects, which are entirely diverse from each other, viz.,
either in a morbid aversion to society, or in a desire of
society inordinately intense. — Persons to whom the first
statement will apply are generally, and for the most part
justly, designated as Misanthropes. Under the influence
of some sudden revulsion of the mind, of some great dis-
appointment, of. some ill-treatment on the part of near
relatives and supposed friends, or of some other powerful
cause, the natural tie of brotherhood, which binds man to
his fellow-man, is snapped asunder, and the unhappy in-
dividual flees to the solitude of the rock and the desert
never more to return.
^ 433. Further remarks on the disordered action of the social propensity.
There is another class of cases, which in their charac-
ter appear to be directly the reverse of those which have
just been mentioned. Individuals, when they are cut ofl*
from society, particularly the society of their friends, are
sometimes the subjects of a misery inexpressibly intense.
The innocent but unfortunate Foscari, who was banished
from Venice in 1450, died, apparently in consequence
of the mere mental anguish which he sufl?ered. Cases
are also enumerated of death resulting from solitary con-
finement in prison.* There is an exceedingly painliil
disease, founded in a great degree upon the disordered
action of the social principle, which is termed by physi-
cians Nostalgia, but which is more commonly known un-
der the familiar designation of home-sickness. This dis-
ease, which is sometimes fatal, is said to have frequently
prevailed among the Swiss when absent from their na-
tive country. The beautiful sky which shone over them
in their absence from their native land, the works of art,
the allurements of the highest forms of civiUzation, could
not erase from their hearts the image of their rugged
mountains and their stormy heavens. They had society
enough around them, it is true ; but it was not the socie-
ty which their hearts sought for, or in which, in existing
circumstances, they could participate. They bowed their
heads under the influence of a hidden and' irrepressible
♦ See the large ed. of this Work, vol. ii., "J I44» 148.
OP THE APPETITES AND PROPENSITIES. 469
sorrow ; and in many cases not merely pined away, but
died in the deep anguish of their separation.
In the year 1733, a Russian army, under the command
of General Praxin, advanced to the banks of the Rhine.
At this remote distance from their native country, this se-
vere mental disease began to prevail among the Russians,
so much so that five or six soldiers every day became un-
fit for duty ; a state of things which threatened to affect
the existence of the army. The progress of this home-
sickness was terminated by a severe order from the com-
mander, (designed probably, and which had the effect to
produce a strong counteracting state of mind,) that every
one affected with the sickness should be buried alive *
(J 434. Of the disordered action of the desire of esteem.
There may be a disordered action of the desire of Es-
teem. This principle is not only an original one, but^
as a general thing, it possesses, as compared with some
of the other Propensities, a greater and more available
amount of strength. It is a regard for the opinions of
others, (a sense of character, as we sometimes term it,)
which, in the absence or the too great weakness of high-
er principles, serves to restrict the conduct of multitudes
within the bounds of decency and order. This principle
is good and important in its place and under due regula-
tion ; but it is exceedingly apt to become irregular, unre-
strained, and inordinate in its exercise. This view throws
light upon the character of many individuals. It is here,
probably, that we may discover the leading defect in the
character of Alcibiades, a name of distinguished celeb-
rity in the history of Athens. His ruhng passion seems tc
have been not so much the love of powrr as the love of
APPLAUSE. In other words, his great desire \yas, as has
been well remarked of him, " to make a noise, and to
furnish matter of conversation to the Athenians."
Pope, in the First of his Moral Essays, illustrates this
s'lbiect, in his usual powerful manner, in what he says of
the Duke of Wharton ; the key to whose character he
finds in the excessive desire of human applause.
♦ Dr. Rush on the Diseases of the Mind, 2d. ed., p. 113.
i60 DISO:iDERED AND ALIENATED ACTION, ETC.
** Search then the ruling passion. There alone
Tiie wild are constant, and the cunning known ;
This clew once found, unravels all the rest,
The prospect clears, and Wharton stands confess'd.
Wharton, the scorn and wonder of our days,
Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise.
Born with whate'er could win it from the wise,
Women and fools must like him, or he dies."
The inordinate exercise of this propensity, as is correct-
ly intimated by Mr. Stewart, tends to disorganize the
mind. The man who is under the influence of such an
excessive appetite for the world's smiles and flatteries, has
no fixed rule of conduct ; but the action of his mind,
his opinions, desires, hopes, and outward conduct, are
constantly fluctuating with the changing tide of popular
sentiment. It is nearly impossible that the pillars of the
mind should remain firm, and without more or less of un-
dermining and dislocation, under the operations of such
a system of uncertainty and vicissitude. — Nor is this all.
When persons who are under the influence of this exces-
sive desire are disappointed in the possession of that ap-
probation and applause which is its natural food, they are
apt to become melancholy, misanthropic, and unhappy in a
very high degree. In fact, numerous cases of actual In-
sanity, if we look carefully at the statements of writers
on the subject of Mental Ahenation, may probably be tra-
ced to this source.
i) 435. Disordered action of the desire of power.
Men become disordered in mind, and sometimes ac-
tually insane, not only by the inordinate indulgence of
the desire of esteem and the desire of possession, but
also, perhaps with no less frequency, under the influence
of the exaggerated and intense desire of power. They
are looking onward and upward, with an excited heart
and constrained eye, to some form of authority, honour,
and dominion, till this desire, strengthened by constant
repetition, becomes the predominant feeling. Instances
where the disorder of the mind arises in this way and
exists to this extent are innumerable. But it is not al-
ways that it stops here. If the desire is suddenly and
greatly disappointed, as it is very likely to be, the rear-
SYMPATHETIC IMITATION. 461
tion upon the whole mind may be such as to cause disor-
der in all its functions, and leave it a wide mass of ruins.
The history of those w^ho are confined in Insane Hos-
pitals furnishes a strong presumption that such results are
not unfrequent. Although the mind is deranged, the
predominant feeling which led to the derangement seems
still to remain. One individual challenges for himself
the honours of a Chancellor, another of a King ; one is
a member of Parliament, another is the Lord Mayor of
London ; one, under the name of the Duke of Welhng-
ton or Bonaparte, claims to be the commander of mighty
armies; another announces himself with the tone and at-
titude of a Prophet of the Most High. Pinel informs us
that there were at one time no less than three maniacs in
one of the French Insane Hospitals, each of whom assu-
med to be Louis XIV. On one occasion, these individu-
als were found disputing with each other, with a great
degree of energy, their respective rights to the throne
The dispute was terminated by the sagacity of the super-
intendent, who, approaching one of them, gave him, with
a serious look, to understand that he ought not to dispute
on the subject with the others, since they were obviously
mad. " Is it not well known," said the superintendent,
"that you alone ought to be acknowledged as Louis
XIV. ?" The insane person, flattered with this homage,
cast upon his companions a look of the most marked dLs*
dain, and immediately retired.
CHAPTER II.
SYMPATHETIC IMITATION.
^ 436. Of sympathetic imitation, and what is involved in it.
• We endeavoured, in its proper place, to illustrate the
natural origin and the prevalence of the propensity to im-
itation. In connexion with the general truth of the ex-
istence of such a propensity, it is proper to observe here
that there is a subordinate and pecuUar form of imitation,
■Qq2
462 SYMPATHETIC IMITATION. ■
which is deserving of a separate notice, and particularly
so on account of its practical results. We speak now
of what has been appropriately termed Sympathetic Imi-
tation.
It is implied, in all cases of Sympathetic Imitation, that
there is more than one person concerned in them ; and it
exists, in general, in the highest degree, when the number
of persons is considerable. Some one or more of these
individuals is strongly agitated by some internal emotion,
desire, or passion ; and this inward agitation is expressed
by the countenance, gestures, or other external signs.
There is also a communication of such agitation of the
mind to others ; they experience similar emotions, desires,
and passions. And these new exercises of soul are ex-
pressed on the part of the sympathetic person by similar
outward signs. In a single word, when we are under the
; influence of this form of imitation, we both act and feel
as others. And this happens, not only in consequence of
what we witness in them, and apparency for no other
reason, but it happens naturally ; that is to say, in virtue
of an implanted or natural principle. The view which
we are inclined to take of this principle is, that, although
' we may properly speak of it, on account of its close re-
semblance, as a modification of the more ordinary form
of Imitativeness, yet, on the whole, it is so far distinct and
specific in its character as to entitle it to be regarded as
a separate part of our sensitive nature. As such it might
- have been treated of in another place ; but in its ordina-
ry action it is generally well understood ; and we have
delayed the consideration of it till the present time, be-
cause it is our principal object to give some account of its
disordered or alienated action.
^ 437. Familiar instances of sympathetic imitation.
Abundance of instances (many of them frequent an(4
familitir) show the existence of sympathetic imitatiOxV;
in other words, that there is in human feelings, and in ihe
signs of those feelings, a power of contagious commu-
nication, by which they often spread themselves rapidly,
from one to another.
" In general it may be remarked," says Mr. Stewart,
SYMPATttETIC IMITATION. 463
" that whenever we see in the countenance of another m-
aividual any sudden change of features, more especially
such a change as is expressive of any particular passion
jr emotion, our own countenance has a tendency to assimi-
late itself to his. Every man is sensible of this when he
<X)ks at a person under the influence of laughter or in a
ieep melancholy. Something, too, of the same kind takes
place in that spasm of the muscles of the jaw which we
experience in yaw^ning ; an action which is well known
to be frequently excited by the contagious power of ex-
ample."*
To these statements, illustrative of sympathetic imita-
tion, may be added the fact, that if there are a number
of children together, and one of them suddenly gives way
to tears and sobs, it is generally the case that all the rest
are more or less affected in the same manner. Another
case, illustrative of the same natural principle, is that ot
a mob when they gaze at a dancer on the slack rope
They seem not only to be filled with the same anxiety,
which we may suppose to exist in the rope-dancer him-
self; but they naturally writhe, and twist, and balance
their own bodies as they see him do. It has also been
frequently remarked, that when we see a stroke aimed
and just ready to fall upon the leg or arm of another per-
son, we naturally shrink, and slightly draw back our own
leg or arm, with a sort of prophetic or anticipative imi-
tation of the person on whom the blow is about to be in
flicted.
^ 438. Instances of sympathetic imitation at the poor-house of Hacrlem.
Multitudes of well-attested facts show the sympathet-
ic connexion between mind and mind, and sympathy be-
tween the mind and the nervous and muscular system.
Few-are more interesting or decisive than what is stated
to have occurred at Haerlem under the inspection of
i3oerhave. — " In the^house of charity at Haerlem," says
#ie account, " a girl, under a% impression of terror, fell
into a convulsive disease, which returned in regular par-
oxysms. One of the by-standers, intent upon assisting
her, was seized with a similar fit, which also recurred at
* Stewart's Elements, vol. iii.,chap. i.
464 SYMPATHETIC IMITATION.
intervals ; and on the day following, another was attack*
ed ; then a third, and a fourth ; in short, almost the whole
of the children, both girls and boys, were afflicted with
these convulsions. No sooner was one seized, than the
sight brought on the paroxysms in almost all the rest at
the same time. Under these distressing circumstances, the
phjsicians exhibited all the powerful anti-epileptic medi-
cines with which their art furnishes them, but in vain.
They then applied to Boerhave, who, compassionating the
wretched condition of the poor children, repaired to Haer-
lem ; and while he was inquiring into the matter, one of
them was seized with a fit, and immediately he saw sev-
eral others attacked with a species of epileptic convul-
sion. It presently occurred to this sagacious physician,
that, as the best medicines had been skilfully administer-
ed, and as the propagation of the disease from one to
another appeared to depend on the imagination, [the
sympathy of imagination,] by preventing this impression
upon the mind, the disease might be cured ; and his sug-
gestion was successfully adopted. Having previously ap-
prized the magistrates of his views, he ordered, in the
presence of all the children, that several portable furna-
ces should be placed in different parts of the chamber,
containing burning coals ; and that iron, bent to a certain
form, should be placed in the furnaces ; and then he gave
these further commands ; that all medicines would be to-
tally useless, and the only remedy with which he was
acquainted was, that the first who should be seized with
a fit, whether boy or girl, must be burned in the arm to the
very bone by a red-hot iron. He spoke this with un-
common dignity and gravity ; and the children, terrified
at the thoughts of this cruel remedy, when they perceiv-
ed any tendency to the recurrence of the paroxysm, im-
mediately exerted all their strength of mind, and called
up the horrible idea of the burning ; and were thus ena-
bled, by the stronger mental impression, to resist the in-
fluence of the morbid propensity."
^ 439. Other instances of this species of imitation.
It would not be diflficult to multiply cases similar to
thosn which have been mentioned. A few years since.
MSOKEDERED ACTION OF THE AFFECTIONS. 465
there was a man in Chelmsford, Massachusetts, who had
a faraily of six children, one of whom became affected
with the CHOREA, or St. Vitus's dance. The others, in the
indulgence of that thoughtless gayety which is natural to
children, amused themselves with imitating his odd ges-
tures, until, after a time, they were irresistibly affected in
the same way. At this state of things, which seems to
be susceptible of an explanation in no other way than on
the principles of sympathetic imitation, the family, as
may naturally be supposed, were in great affliction. The
father, a man of some sagacity as well as singularity of
humour, brought into the house a block and axe, and sol-
emnly threatened to take off the head of the first child
who should hereafter exhibit any involuntary bodily
movement, except the child originally diseased. By this
measure, which proceeded on the same view of the hu
man mind as the experiment of Boerhave just mentioned,
a new train of feeling was excited, and the spell was
broken.*
It may be added, that not only those in the same
family and in the same building have been seized, but
the contagion has sometimes spread from one to another,
(by the mere imitation of sympathy as we suppose,) over
whole towns, and even large districts of country. This
was the case in a part of the island of Anglesey in 1796;
and still later in this country, in some parts of Tennessee.f
CHAPTER m.
DISORDERED ACTION OF THE AFFECTIONS.
^ 440. Of the states of mind denominated presentiments.
We proceed now toVemark, that there may be a disoi-
(JjBred action of the Affections or Passions, as well as of the
lower principles of the Sensiti^ nature ; and this remark
is designed to apply to both classes of the Affections, the
benevolent and those of an opposite kind. We do not pro
» Powers's Essay on the Influence of the Imagination, p. 32.
f See Edinburgh Med. and Surg. Journal, vol. iii., p. 446.
466 DISORDERED ACTION OF THE AFFECTIONS.
pose, however, in this Chapter, to confine ourselves very
strictly to the Affections, properly so called ; but shall in-
troduce some collateral or connected subjects, which may
be regarded as too interesting to be omitted, and at the
same time as too unimportant to require a distinct place
They may be expected, moreover, to throw indirectly
some light upon the leading topic of the chapter. We
begin with the subject of presentiments.
Many individuals have had at certain times strong and
distinct impressions in relation to something future; so
much so that .not the least doubt has remained in their
own minds of its being something out of the common
course of nature. It is related, for; instance, of the non-
conformist writer, Isaac Ambrose, whose religious works
formerly had some celebrity, that he had such a striking
internal intimation of his approaching death, that he went
round to all his friends to bid them farew^ell. When the
day arrived, which his presentiments indicated as the
day of his dissolution, he shut himself up in his room and
died. MoZ'tH, the great musical composer, had a strong
presentiment that the celebrated Requiem which bears
his name w^uld be his last Work. Nothing could re-
move this impression from his mind. He expressly said,
" It is certain I am writing this requiem for myself; it will
serve for my funeral service." The foreboding was re-
alized. It is stated of Pendergrast, an officer in the
Duke of Marlborough's army, that he had a strong fore-
boding that he would be killed on a certain day. He
mentioned his conviction to others, and even made a
written memorandum in relation to it. And the event
was such as he had foretold it would be.* Henry the
Fourth of France, for some weeks previous to his being
assassinated by Ravaillac, had a distinct presentiment,
which he mentioned to Sully and other men of his time,
^hat some great calamity was about to befall him.
Some cases of Presentiments can undoubtedly be ex-
plained on natural principles. Some accidental circum-
stance, a mere word, the vagaries of a dream, any trifling
event, which happens in the popular belief of the time
and country to be regarded as a sinister omen, may have
^ Boswell's Life of Johnson, vol. ii., p. 48.
DISORDERED ACTION OF THE AFFECTIONS. 467
been enough in some cases to have laid the foundation for
them ; and the subsequent fulfilment may have been pure-
ly accidental. Nor is it necessary, so far as v^^e are able
to perceive, to suppose that in any cases whatever there
is any supernatural or miraculous interposition. But, if
Uiis is not the case, it is difficult to account for the deep
conviction which sometimes fastens upon the mind, a con-
viction upon w^hich arguments and persuasions are found
to make no impression, except upon the ground that the
action of the Sensibilities is in some degree disordered.
But of the specific nature of that disorder, the trait or
circumstance which distinguishes it from other forms of
disordered mental action, it is difficult to give any ac-
count.
<} 441. Of sudden and strong impulses of the mind.
There is another disordered condition of the mind, dif-
ferent from that which has just been mentioned, and yet
m some inspects closely allied to it. Some persons,
whose soundness of mind on all ordinary occasions is be-
yond question, find in themselves at certain times a sudden
and strange propensity to do things, which, if done,
would clearly prove them, to some extent at least, deran-
ged. As an illustration, a person of a perfectly sane
mind, according to the common estimate of insanity, once
acknowledged, that, whenever he passed a particular
bridge, he felt a slight inchnation to throw himself over,
accompanied with some dread that his inclination might
hurry him away. Such slight ahenated impulses are
probably more frequent than is commonly supposed.
And they exist in every variety of degree ; sometimes
scarcely attracting notice^ at others bearing the broad
and fatal stamp of dangerous insanity.
Dr. Gall mentions the case of a woman in Germany,
who, having on a (Certain occasion witnessed a building on
Jive, was ever afterward, at intervals, subject to strong im-
pulses prompting her to fire lluildings. Under the mflu-
ence of these impulses she set fire to twelve buildings in
the borough where she Uved. Having been arrested on
the thirteenth attempt, she was tried, condemned, and ex-
ecuted. " She could give no other reason, nor show any
468 DISORDERED ACTION OF THE AFFECTIONS.
other motive, for firing so many houses, than this impulse
which drove her to it. Notwithstanding the fear, the ter-
ror, and the repentance she felt in every instance after
committing the crime, she went and did it afresh."*
Would not sound philosophy, to say nothing of the requi-
sitions of religion, have assigned such a person to an in
sane hospital rather than to the block of the executioner 1
The same writer, who has collected numerous valuable
facts in relation to the operations of the human mind
mentions the case of a German soldier, who was subject
every month to a violent convulsive attack. " He was
sensible," he proceeds to remark, " of their approach ; and
as he felt, by degrees, a violent propensity to kill, in pro
portion as the paroxysm was on the point of commencing,
he was earnest in his entreaties to be loaded with chains.
At the end of some days the paroxysm and the fatal pro-
pensity diminished, and he himself fixed the period at
which they might without danger set him at liberty. At
Haina, we saw a man who, at certain periods, felt an ir-
resistible desire to injure others. He knew this unhappy
propensity, and had himself kept in chains till he perceiv-
ed that it was safe to hberate him. An individual of
melancholy temperament was present at the execution of
a criminal. The sight caused him such violent emotion,
that he at once felt himself seized with an irresistible de-
sire to kill, while, at the same time, he entertained the
utmost horror at the commission of the crime. He de-
picted his deplorable state, weeping bitterly, and in ex-
treme perplexity. He beat his head, wrung his hands,
remonstrated with himself, begged his friends to save
themselves, and thanked them for the resistance they
made to him."f
^ 442. Insanity of the affections or passions.
From the instances which have been given, it will be
seen that sudden and strong impulses, indicating a disor-
dered state of the mind, may exist in reference to very
different things, and also in very various degrees. The
cases last mentioned were of such an aggravated nature,
* Gall's Works, vol. iv., Am. ed., p. 105.
t lb., vol. i, p. 329.
DISORDERED ACTION OF THE AFFECTIONS. 469
that they may pr-operly be regarded as instances (and per-
haps the same view will apply to some other cases of a less
marked character) of actual alienation or insanity. And,
as such, they may be correctly described as instances of
the insanity of the Affections or Passions.
The insanity of the passions is a state of mind some
what peculiar, even as compared with other forms of in
sanity. The powers of perception, in cases of insanity
of the passions, are often in full and just exercise. The
mind may possess, in a very considerable degree, its
usual ability in comparing ideas and in deducing conclu-
sions. The seat of the difficulfy is not to be sought for
in what are usually designated as the intellectual powers,
in distinction from the sensitive nature, but in the passions
alone. The victim of this mental disease does not stop
to reason, reflect, and compare ; but is borne forward to
his purpose with a blind and often an irresistible impulse.
Pinel mentions a mechanic in the asylum Bicetre,
who was subject to this form of insanity. It was, as is
frequently the case, intermittent. He knew when the
paroxysms of passion were coming on, and even gave
warnings to those who were exposed to its effects to make
their escape. His powers of correctly judging remained
unshaken, not only at other times, but even in the com-
mission of the most violent and outrageous acts. He saw •
clearly their impropriety, but was unable to restrain him-
self; and, after the cessation of the paroxysms, was often
filled with the deepest grief.^
() 443. Of the mental disease termed hypochondriasis.
The seat of the well-known mental disease termed
Hypochondriasis, is to be sought for in a disordered state
of the Sensibilities. It is, in fact, nothing more nor less
than a state of deep depression, gloom, or melancholy.
This is the fact ; and we never apply the term hypochon-
driasis to a state of the mind where such gloom or melan-
choly does not exist; but it 18 nevertheless true, that the
occasion or basis of the fact may sometimes be found in
a disordered condition of some other part of the mind
One 01 two concise statements will illustrate what we
mean.
Rb
470 DISORDERED ACTION OF THE AFFECTIONS.
One of the slighter forms of hypochondriasis can per-
haps be traced to inordinate workings of the Imagihation.
The mind of the sufferer is fixed upon some unpromising
and gloomy subject ; probably one which has particular
relation either to his present or future prospects. He gives
it an undue place in his thoughts, dwelling upon it con-
tinually. His .imagination hovers over it, throwing a
deeper shade on what is already dark. Thus the mind
becomes disordered ; it is broken off from its ordinary and
rightful mode of action ; and is no longer what it was,
nor Vv^hat nature designed it should be.
There is another, and still more striking form of hypo-
chondriasis, which is connected in its origin with an
alienation of the power of belief. As in all other cases
of hypochondriasis, the subject of it suffers much mental
distress. He is beset with the most gloomy and distress-
ing apprehensions, occasioned, not by exaggerated and
erroneous notions in general, but by some fixed and inev-
itable false belief. — One imagines that he has no soul ;
another, that his body is gradually but rapidly perishing ;
and a third, that he is converted into some other animal,
or that he has been transformed into a plant. We are
told in the Memoirs of Count Maurepas, that this last idea
once took possession of the mind of one of the princes of
Bourbon. So deeply was he infected with this notion,
that he often went into his garden and insisted on being
watered in common with the plants around him. Some
have imagined themselves to be transformed into glass,
and others have fallen into the still stranger folly of ima-
gining themselves dead. — What has been said confirms
our remark, that, although hypochondriasis is, in itself
considered, seated in the sensibilities, yet its origin may
sometimes be found in a disordered state of some other
part of the mind.
It is also sometimes the case, that this disease origi-
nates in a violation of some form of sensitive action. It
js not only, as its appropriate position, seated in the sen-
sibilities, but it sometimes has its origin there. It is rela-
ted of a certain Englishman, a man of generous and excel-
lent character, that his life was once attempted by his
brother with a pistol. He succeeded, however, in wrest-
DISORDERED ACTION OF THE AFKECTIONS. 471
-mg the pistol from his brother's hand, and, on examina-
tion, found it to be double charged with bullets. This
transaction, as might be expected in the case of a person
of just and generous sentiments, filled him with such hor-
ror, and with such disgust for the character of man, that
he secluded himself ever after from human society. He
never allowed the visits even of his own children. It is
certainly easy to see, that, under such circumstances, the
Bensibilities may receive such a shock as to leave the sub-
ject of it in a state of permanent dissatisfaction and
gloom. In other words, he may in this way and for such
reasons become a confirmed hypochondriac.
^ 444. Of intermissions of hypochondriasis, and of its remedies.
The mental disease of hypochondriasis is always un-
derstood to imply the existence of a feeling of gloom and
depression ; but this depressed feeling does not exist in
all cases in the same degree. In all instances it is a
source of no small' unhappiness ; but in some the wretch-
edness is extreme. The greatest bodily pains are light
in the comparison. It is worthy of remark, however, that
the mental distress of hypochondriasis is, in some persons,
characterized by occasional intermissions. An accidental
remark, some sudden combination of ideas, a pleasant
day, and various other causes, are found to dissipate the
gloom of the mind. At such times there is not unfre-
quently a high flow of the spirits, corresponding to the
previous extreme depression. — As this disease, even when
mitigated by occasional intermissions, is prodigal in evil
results, it becomes proper to allude to certain remedies
which have sometimes been resorted to.
(1.) The first step towards remedying the evil is to in-
fuse health and vigour into the bodily action, especially
that of the nervous system. The nerves, it will be recol-
lected, are the great medium of sensation, inasmuch as
^ey constitute, under different modifications, the external
senses. Now the senses are |)rominent sources of belief
and knowledge. Consequently, when the nervous system
(including, of course, the senses) is in a disordered state,
it is not surprising that persons should have wrong sensa-
tions and external perceptions, and, therefore, a wrong
472 DISORDERED ACTION OF THE AFrLCTIONS.
belief. If a man's nerves are in such a state that he feeiS
precisely as he supposes a man made of glass would feel,
it is no great wonder, when we consider the constitution
of the mind, that he should actually believe himself to be
composed of that substance. But one of the forms of the
disease in question is essentially founded on an erroneous
but fixed behef of this kind. Hence, in restoring the
bodily system to a right action, we shall correct the wrong
beUei if it be founded in the senses; and, in removing
this, w^e may anticipate the removal of that deep-seated
gloom which is characteristic of hypochondriasis. — (2.)
As all the old associations of the hypochondriac have been
more or less visited and tinctured by his peculiar malady,
efforts should be made to break tbem up and remove them
from the mind by changes in the objects with which he is
most conversant, by introducing him into new society, or
by travelling. By these means his thoughts are likely to
be diverted, not only from the particular subject which
has chiefly interested him, but a new impulse is given to
the whole mind, which promises to interrupt and banish
that fatal fixedness and inertness which had previously
encumbered and prostrated it. — (3.) Whenever the mal-
ady appears to be founded on considerations of a moral
nature, the hypochondriasis may sometimes be removed,
or at least alleviated, by the suggestions of counteracting
moral motives. If, for instance, the despondency of mirid
has arisen from some supposed injury, it is desirable to
suggest all well-founded considerations which may tend
to lessen the suflferer's estimate of the amount of the injury
received. When the injury is very great and apparent,
suggestions on the nature and duty of forgiveness may
not be without effeQt. — But, whatever course may be ta-
ken, it is desirable that the attention of the suflferer should
be directed as little as possible to his disease, by any di-
rect remarks upon it. It was a remark of Dr. Johnson,
whose sad experience enabled him to judge, that conver-
sation upon melancholy feeds it. Accordingly, he advi
sed Boswell, who, as well as himself^ was subject to mel-
ancholy of mind, " never to speak of it to his friends nor
in company."
mSOKDEllED ACTION OF THE AFFECTIONS. 473
^ 445. Disordered action of the passion of fear.
The passion of fear, inasmuch as there are various ob-
jects around us which are or may be dangerous, is ob-
viously implanted in us for wise purposes. But it not
unfrequently exhibits an irregular or disordered action.
This disordered state of the affection may discover itself,
when considered either in reference to the occasion on
which it exists, or in reference to the degree in which it
exists. In some cases, for instance, it is connected with
objects which, in the view of reason and common sense,
ought not to excite it. Some persons are afraid to be
alone in the dark ; it is exceedingly distressing to them.
Others are afraid (so much so, perhaps, as to be thrown
into convulsions by their presence) of a mouse, or a squir-
rel, or an insect.
Again, fear may exist with such an intensity as essen-
tially to affect the mind, and even cause insanity. Prob-
ably the power of this passion is not well understood.
Certain it is, that terrible results have often followed from
the attempts of persons, particularly of children, to excite
it in others, even in sport. Many instances are on record
of individuals who have been permanently and most seri-
ously injured, either in mind or body, or both, by a sud-
den fright.
Sometimes, especially when connected with permanent
causes, it gradually expands and strengthens itself, till it
is changed into despair. The distinctive trait of Despair,
in distinction from all other modifications of fear, is, that
it excludes entirely the feeling of hope, which exists in
connexion with fear in other cases. Despair may exist,
therefore, in a greater or less degree, and with a greater
or less amount of mental anguish, in accordance w^ith the
nature of the thing, whatever it is, which occasions it.
When great present or future interests are at stake, and
the mind, in relation to those interests, is in a state of
despair, the wretchedness which is experienced is neces
sarily extreme. •
() 446. Perversions of the benevolent affections.
There are some singular perversions of the benevoleni
affections which are worthv of notice here. It is not un-
Rh2
474 liSO^LDERED ACTION OF THE APTECTIONS.
frequently the case, that persons in a state of mental al-
ienation are entirely indifferent to, and sometimes they
even hate, those whom at other times they love most sin-
cerely and deeply. It is, perhaps, difficult to explain this,
although it is practically important to know the fact. —
Dr. Hush, in speaking of a singular apathy or torpor of
the passions, w^hich is sometimes found to exist, says : " I
was once consulted by a citizen of Philadelphia, who was
remarkable for his strong affection for his wife and chil-
dren when his mind w^as in a sound state, who was occa-
sionally afflicted with this apathy, and, when under its
influence, lost his affection for them all so entirely, that
he said he could see them butchered before his eyes with-
out feeling any distress, or even inclination to rise from
his chair to protect them." — (2.) There are other cases,
where there seems to be not merely an extinction of the
benevolent affection, but its positive conversion into ha-
tred. The same philosophic physician mentions the case
of a young lady who was conlined as a lunatic in the
Pennsylvania Hospital in the year 1802. One of the
characteristics of her insanity was hatred for her father.
She was gradually restored ; and, for several weeks be-
fore she was discharged from the Hospital, discovered all
the marks of a sound mind, excepting the continuance of
this unnatural feeling of hatred. On a certain day she
acknowledged with pleasure a return of her filial attach-
ment and affection, and soon after was discharged as
cured.* — (3.) There are other cases where insanity is the
indirect result of the mere intensity of the benevolent af-
fections. In cases of this kind the affections are so strong,
so intense, that they are unable to withstand the shock of
sudden and great opposition and disappointments. — " A
peasant woman," says Dr. Gall, "became insane three
times ; the fii'st at the death of her brother, the second
at the death of her father, and the third at that of her
mother. After she had recovered the third time she came
to consult me. As she was very religious, she complain-
ed to mc of her unfortimate disposition to be afflicted, at
the loss of persons who were dear to her, more than reli-
gion permits ; an evident proof that she had yielded to
* Rush on the Diseases of the Mind, p. 255, 345
riSORDSRED ACTION OF THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 475
grief, although she had combated it by motives which
were within her reach." Pinel also mentions the case of
a young man who became a violent maniac a short time
after losing a father and mother whom he tenderly loved.
It is true that in these cases the proximate cause of the
insanity is sorrow or grief; but the remote cause, and
that without which the unfortunate result would not have
existed, is an unrestrained and excessive position of the
benevolent affections. — It may be proper to add here, that
sudden and strong feehngs of joy have, in repeated in-
stances, caused a permanent mental disorganization, and
even death itself. — " The son of the famous Leibnitz died
from this cause, ipon his opening an old chest and unex-
pectedly finding m it a large quantity of gold. Joy, from
the successful issue of political schemes or wishes, has
often produced the same effect. Pope Leo X. died of joy,
in consequence of hearing of a great calamity that had
befallen the French nation. Several persons died from
the same cause, Mr. Hume tells us, upon witnessing the
restoration of Charles II. to the British throne ; and it is
well known the doorkeeper of Congress died of an apo-
plexy, from joy, upon hearing the news of the capture of
Lord Cornwallis and his army during the American rev
ohitionary war."*
CHAPTER IV.
DISORDERED ACTION OF THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES.
(} 447. Nature of voluntary moral derangement.
The moral, as Vv^ell as the natural or pathematic Sensi-
bilities, the Conscience as well as the Heart, may be the
subject of a greater or less degree of disorder and aliena-
ffoii. There are probably twotleading forms, at least, of
moral derangement, viz., voluntary, and natural or con-
genital'. — In regard to voluntary moral derangement, we
remark, as an interesting and practically important fact,
* Rush on the Diseases of the Mind, p. 339.
476 DISORDERED ACTION OF THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES.
that man may virtually destroy his conscience. There is
sound philosophy in the well-known passage of Juvenal,
" nem:o repente fuit turpissimus." The truth implied in
this passage is unquestionably applicable to all persons,
with the exception of those few cases where the moral
derangement is natural or congenital. A man is not in
the first instance turpissimus, or a villain, because his
conscience makes resistance, and will not let him be so.
But if the energies of the will are exercised in opposition
to the conscience ; if, on a systematic plan and by a per-
manent effort, the remonstrances of conscience are mi-
heeded and its action repressed, its energies will be found
to diminish, and its very existence will be put at hazard.
There is no doubt that in this way the conscience may be
so far seared as to be virtually annihilated. Multitudes
have prepared themselves for the greatest wickedness,
and have become, in fact, morally insane, by their own
voluntaiy doing. There is a passage in Beaumont, in his
" King and no King," which strikingly indicates the prog-
ress of the mind in such cases.
" There is a method in man's wickedness ;
It grows up by degrees. I am not come
So high as killing of myself; there are
A hundred thousand sins 'twixt it and me,
Which I must do. I shall come toH at last."
We say in such cases the conscience is virtually anni-
hilated. And by this remark we mean that it is inert,
inefficient, dormant, paralyzed. We do not mean that it
is dead. The conscience never dies. Its apparent death
is impregnated with the elements of a real and terrible
resurrection. It seems to gather vivification and strength
in the period of its inactivity ; and, at the appointed time
of its reappearance, inflicts a stern and fearful retribu-
tion, not only for the crimes which are committed against
others', but for the iniquity which has been perpetrated
against itself.
^ 448. Of accountability in connexion with this form of disordered
conscience.
If the moral sensibility, under the system of repression
which has been mentioned, refuses to act, the question
arises, whether, at such a time, a person is morally ac-
DISORDERED ACTION OF THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 477
countable for Kis conduct. As his conscience does not
eondemn him in what he does, is the transaction, what-
ever its nature, a criminal one? There can be but one
answer to this question. If the individual is not con-
demned by his conscience, it is the result of his own evil
course. We may illustrate the subject by a case which
iS unhappily too frequent. A man who commits a crime
in a state of drunkenness, may plead that he was not, at
the time, aware of the guilt of his conduct. And this
may be true. But he was guilty for placing himself in a
situation where he knew he would be likely to injure
others, or in some other way commit unlawful acts. His
crime, instead of being diminished, is in fact increased.
It is twofold. He is guilty of drunkenness, and he is
ffuilty of everything evil, which he knew, or might have
known, would result from his drunkenness.
In like manner, a man is not at liberty to plead that he
was not, in the commission of his crimes, condemned by
conscience, if it be the fact that he has, by a previous
process, voluntarily perverted or hardened the conscience.
On the contrary, it would be fair to say, as in the case
of drunkenness, that he has increased his guilt ; for he
has added to the guilt of the thing done, the antecedent
and still greater crime of aiming a blow at the mind, of
striking at the very life of the soul. Practically he is not
self-condemned, for the mere reason that he has paraly-
zed the principle by which the sentence of self-condem-
nation is pronounced. But in the eye of immutable jus-
tice there is not only no diminution of his guilt, but it is
inexpressibly enhanced by the attempts to murder, if we
may so express it, the principle which, more than any-
thing else, constitutes the dignity and glory of man's na-
ture. (See §403.) •
i) 449. Of natural or congenital moral derangement.
The other form of moral derangement is natural or
CONGENITAL. We do not kno\f that we are authorized to
say that men are by nature, in any case whatever, abso-
lutely destitute of a conscience ; nor, on the other hand,
have we positive grounds for asserting that this is not the
case. There is no more inconsistency or impossibility in
478 DISORDERED ACTION OF THE MORAI- SENSIBILITIES.
a maQ's coming into the world destitute of a conscience
than there is in his being born without the powers of
memoiy, comparison, and reasoning, which we find to be
the case in some idiots. But certain it is, that there are
some men who appear to have naturally a very enfeebled
conscience ; a conscience which but very imperfectly ful-
fils its office ; and who, in this respect at least, appear to
be constituted very differently from the great body of
their fellow-men. They exhibit an imbecility, or, if the
expression may be allowed, an idiocy of conscience, w^hich
unouestionably diminishes, in a very considerable degree,
theiV moral accountability. A number of those writers
who have examined the subject of Insanity have taken
this view, and have given instances in support of it.
" In the course of my life,"* says Dr. Rush, " I have
been consulted in three cases of the total perversion of the
moral faculties. One of them was in a young man ; the
second in a young woman, both of Virginia ; a-nd the third
w^as in the daughter of a citizen of Philadelphia. The
last was addicted to every kind of mischief. Her wick-
edness had no intervals while she was awake, except
when she was kept busy in some steady and difficult em-
ployment." He refers also to instances in other w^riters.
Dr. Haslam, in his Observations on Madness, has given
two decided cases of moral derangement. One of these
was a lad about ten years of age. Some of the traits
which he exhibited were as follows. He early showed
an impatience and irritability of temper, and became so
mischievous and uncontrollable that it was necessary to
appoint a person to watch over him. He gave answers
only to such questions as pleased him, and acted in op-
position to every direction. " On the first interview I had
w^ith him," says Dr. Haslam, " hfe contrived, after two or
three minutes' acquaintance, to break a window and tear
the frill of my shirt. He was an unrelenting foe to all
china, glass, and crockery-ware. Whenever they cft?'^o
wthin his reach, he shivered them instantly. In w^alking
the street, the keeper was compelled to take the wall, as
he uniformly broke the windows if he could get nea:
them; and this operation he performed so dexterously
and with such safety to himself, that he never cut hi?!
DISORDERED ACTION OF THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 479
fingers. To tear lace and destroy the finer textures of
female ornament seemed to gratify him exceedingly, and
he seldom walked out without finding an occasion of in-
dulging this propensity. He never became attached to
any inferior animal, a benevolence so common to the gen-
erahty of children. To these Creatures his conduct was
that of the brute ; he oppressed the feeble, and avoided
the society of those more powerful than himself. Con-
siderable practice had taught him that he was the cat's
master ; and, wdienever this luckless animal approached
him he plucked out its whiskers with wonderful rapidity ;
to use his own language, ' / must have her heard off,'
After this operation he commonly threw the creature on
the fire or through the window. If a little dog came
near him, he kicked it ; if a large one, he would not no-
tice it. When he was spoken to, he usually said, ' I do
not choose to answer.'^ When he perceived any one who
appeared to observe him attentively, he always said,
' Now I will look unpleasant.' The usual games of chil-
dren afforded him no amusement; wdienever boys were
at play he never joined them ; indeed, the most singular
part of his character was, that he appeared incapable of
forming a friendship with anyone; he felt no considera-
tion for sex, and would as readily kick or bite a girl as a
boy. Of any kindness shown him he was equally insen-
sible ; he would receive an orange as a present, and af-
terward throw it in the face of the donor."
This unfortunate lad seems sometim.es to have been
sensible of his melancholy condition. When, on a certain
occasion, he was conducted through an. insane hospital,
and a mischievous maniac was pointed out to him who was
more strictly confined than the rest, he said to his attend-
ant, "This would be the right place for me." He often
expressed a wish to die ; and gave as a reason, " That
God had not made him like other children."
(f 450. Of moral accountability in casS of natural or congenital moral
derangement.
The question recurs here, also, whether persons who
are the subjects of a natural or congenital moral derange-
ment ?re morally accountable, and in what degree. If
480 DISORDERED ACTION OF THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES.
there is naturally an entire extinction of the moral sense,
as in some cases of Idiocy there is an entire extinction of
the reasoning power, which, although it may not frequent-
ly happen, is at least a supposable case, there is no moral
accountability. A person in that situation can have no
idea of what right and wrong are; nor can he be con-
scious of doing either right or wrong in any given case ;
and, consequently, being without either merit or demer-
it in the moral sense of the terms, he is not the proper
subject of reward and punishment. He is to be treated
on the principles that are applicable to idiots and insane
persons generally.
In other cases where the mental disorder is not so great,
but there are some lingering rays of moral light, some
feeble capability of moral vision, the person is to be judg-
ed, if it is possible to ascertain what it is, according to
what is given him. If he has but one moral talent, it is not
to be presumed that the same amount of moral responsibil-
ity rests upon him as upon another who possesses ten.
The doctrine w^hich requires men, considered as subjects
of reward and punishment, to be treated alike, without
regard to those original diversities of structure which may
exist in all the departments of the mind, not only tends
to confound right and wTong, but is abhorrent to the dic-
tates of benevolence. Many individuals, through a mis-
understanding of this important subject, have sutfered un-
der the hands of the executioner, who, on the principles
of religion and strict justice, should have been encircled
only in the arms of compassion, long-suffering, and charity
QUESTIONS.
QUESTIONS
TO
UPHAM'S ABRIDGMENT OF MENTAL PHILOSOPHY.
BY THE REV. L. L. SMITH,
OF NORFOLK, VA.
CHAPTER I.
ftu. Sect.
1. 1. Is the human mind a unit, or composed of many departments ?
2. Its three leading- divisions ?
3. How are the states of mind, the results of these leading depart*
ments, expressed ?
4. 2. What is the intellect ?
5. In what two points of view may the intellectual part of man be
considered ?
6. Upon what does the existence of intellectual states of external ori-
gin depend ?
7. How is this shown ?
8. What are intellectual states of internal origin?
9. 3. W^hat kind of knowledge is first acquired ?
10. Does the mind of the new-born infant possess any knowledge?
11. How is it first brought into action ?
12. How does it appear that there is a correspondence between the
mind and outward material objects ?
13. To what may the soul be compared ?
14. Explain the points of resemblance. ^
15. 4. What two general principles are here laid down?
16. The first proof of the truth of these principles ?
17. 5. The second proof of it ?
18. What are the first ideas of the human race ?
19. To what may the history and origin of all our notions be traced ?
20. When do we begin to compare, and reason, and seek for causes and
effects ?
21. In what way is knowledge most easily imparted to children ?
22. 6. The third proof of the truth of these principles ?
23. Why is the vocabulary of savage tribes so limited?
24. To what does the growth of languages coirespond?
25. What do we learn from the history of all languages ?
26. Illustrate the fact that the words of all languages, expressive of the
mind, had an external origin.
27. What conclusion may you derive from this fact?
^ 7. The fourth proof of the truth of these principles ?
29. Illustrate these facts. •
30. What facts are stated of the deaf and dumb man of the city of Char-
tres ?
31. What inference would you deduce from them?
32. 8. Give an account of James Mi^hell.
4 aUESTIONS.
CHAPTER II.
4a. Sect
1. 9. Is sensation a simple or complex state of mind ?
2. Why can it not be defined ?
3. Is its simplicity its only characteristic?
4. By what peculiarity is it distinguished ?
5. Why can we not speak of the sensations of joy and soitow ?
6. Mention several of the sensations.
7. 10. Where has it, by some, been supposed that sensation is located ?
8. Where is it really located ?
9. How, then, should we regard the organs of sense ? and illustrate.
10. 11. Are our sensations copies, pictures, or images of outward objects?
11. Do they possess any of the qualities of outward objects?
12. What do you mean by this ?
13. 12. Is the affection of the mind coetaneous with, or subsequent to, the
operation of external bodies on the mind ?
14. The character and extent of this operation ?
15. The extent of our knowledge on this subject?
16. What change takes place subsequently to the change in the organ
of sense?
17. What do we know of the connection between mind and matter?
18. 13. How does pei-ception differ from sensation ?
19. How is the term sometimes used ?
20. Define it.
21. 14. Is it a complex or a simple state of the mind ?
32. Distinguish between it and sensation.
23. What would be the nature and extent of our knowledge, if we Iiad
but sensation alone, without perception?
24. 15. What do we know of matter?
25. Under what two heads have the qualities of material bodies been
ranked ?
26. How are the primary qualities known ; and what are they ?
27. Why called primary ?
28. What do you mean by solidity ?
29. Show that water is solid in this sense.
30. The Florentine experiment? and what did it prove?
31. 16. The secondary qualities of bodies, how divided?
32. What are included under the first qjass ?
33. What is meant when we say a body has sound, color, etc. ?
34. Mention some of the second class of secondary bodies.
CHAPTER III.
1. 17. Is the possession of organs of sense essential to the possession of
that knowledge which we are accustomed to ascribe to them ?
2. How is this shown ?
3. How does it appear that they are essential to human knowledge?
4. 18. Can the senses be separated from the nervous system ?
5. Can they pei-form their duty if the brain be injured ?
6. Can they, if the nerves be tightly compressed?
7. What may be inferred from these facts ?
8. What is the sensorial organ ?
9. What is essential to the sensations of hearing, seeing, etc. ?
10. 19. -How is the sensation of smell produced?
11. 20. What is the olfactory nerve ?
12. Is there any necessary connection between the smell and surround-
ing objects ?
13. How does it happen that we a*e j^ot merely sensible of the particu-
lar sensation, but refer it at once to the particular external object
that produces it ? ^ ^
QUESTIONS. 5
Qu. Sect
14». 21. Show that this mental reference is made with great rapiditv-
15. Why is it so ?
16. "What three things are involved in the process of perception ?
17. 22 What is the organ of taste ?
18. Is it confined to the tongue 1
19. Why do we speak of particular bodies as sweet, or sour, etc. ?
20. What do we mean when we call them sweet or sour?
CHAPTER IV.
1. 23. How is sound produced ?
2. What is the organ of hearing ?
3. Why are the ears placed in the side of the bead?
4. How are they formed, and why so formed ?
5. What is the tympanum of the ear?
6. By what is the sound communicated to the mind ?
7. 24. Are the sensations of sound more or less numerous than the words
in the English language?
8. How would you illustrate this fact ?
9. How many simple sounds are there, according to Dr. Reid ?
10. How are varieties and shades of difference of the same tone pro-
duced ? and illustrate.
11. 25 How do we know the' place whence sounds originate?
12. What renders our ignorance of their place, previous to experience,
less surprising?
13. Illustrate this fact.
14. How do we learn to distinguish the place of things ?
15. How is this shown ?
16. If a man, bom deaf, were suddenly restored to his hearing, whera
would he locate the sounds he might hear?
\7, What alone would teach him their true source? '
CHAPTER V.'
1. 26. The principal organ of the sense of touch?
2(1 Why located principally in. the hand?
3. In what respect does the sense of touch differ from those of bearing;
tasting, smelling?
4. 27. What knowledge would we derive from the sense of smelling alone?
5. What additional ideas would we derive from these sensations ?
6. What feelings would these ideas excite in the mind?
7. If we had no other sense, how should we regard these feelings ?
8. How do we get the idea of externality or outwardness ?
9. What would be our condition without the senses of touch and sight?
10. How does the sense of touch give us the idea of outwardness ?
11. 28. How do we an-ive at the idea of extension?
12. Why can not the idea of extension be resolved into others ?
13. The foundation of the idea of form in bodies? <■
14. Dr. Brown's definition of form?
15. Which is antecedent in the idea of nature, the idea of form or of
extension ?
16. 29. The two significations of the words heat and cold?
17. What are the qualities in bodies which give us the sensation of heat
_ and cold ?
18. Mention some of the various opinions respecting them.
19. Do they resemble the sensations they occasion?
20. 30. W'hen is a body called hard or soft ?
21. How do we arrive at the sensation of hardness?
22. Why is it difficult to make this sensation an object of reflection?
23. In what cases is it not at all dilHrult ?-
6 aiTKSTIONS.
Qu. Sect.
24. Why is it important to attend to it?
25. 31. To what sense would you ascribe the feelings expressed by the
terms uneasiness, weariness, sickness, and the like ?•
26. What remarks are made of huni^er and thirst?
27. Why is it difficult to state what sense they should be ascribed to ?
28. 32. What two things always exist when we speak of extension, or re*
sistance, or heat, or color, etc. ?
29. Do they resemble one another ?
30. How, then, can one give us a knowledge of the other ?
31. How would you illustrate this ?
32. What is the relation between the sensation and the outward object ?
CHAPTER VI.
1. 33. The most valuable of the five senses ?
2. Show its superiority over the touch.
3. To what is the eye compared ?
4. The medium on which it acts ?
5. To what science does a description of the eye belong ?
6. 34. What would be the effect if the rays of light that first strike the
eye were to continue on, in the same direction, to the retina ?
7. How is this prevented ?
8. What is the retina ?
9. The last step we are able to trace in the material part of the pro-
cess in visual perception ?
10. How is the image conveyed to the mind ?
11. 35. What knowledge do we derive originally from the sense of sight?
12. Can we obtain the idea of color from any other sense?
13. What knowledge is generally, though erroneously, ascribed to the
sense of sight?
14. 36. Is extension a direct object of sight ?
15. How do we get the idea of extension ?
3 6. Can we get it from any other or all of the four remaining senses ?
17. Why do any suppose that this idea is due to the sense of sight?
18. 37. How do we get the idea of figure ? ^
19. To what is it often attributed ? .
20. Do we really see prominences or cavities in solid bodies ?
21. What do we see in them?
22. Why do we then suppose that we really see them ?
23. How is the fact that v/e do not see them proved?
24. 38. What was the problem submitted to Mr. Locke; and his decision?
25. The first idea conveyed to the mind on seeing a globe ?
26. How is it corrected ?
27. How is the truth of this statement shown ?
28. Why do we ever attribute to sight the knowledge that is acquired
by touch only ?
29. 39. How is a knowledge of magnitude first obtained?
30. T\m difference between tangible and visible magnitude ?
31. What fact is stated in support of the doctrine that the knowledge
of magnitude is not an original intimation of sight ?
32. 40. Wliat is said of the visible magnitude of objects seen in a mist?
33. How is this fact accounted for ?
34. To what may it, in part, be atti'ibuted ?
35. 41. Mention three reasons why the sun and moon seem larger in the ho*
rizon than in the meridian.
36. 42. What is meant by the term distance?
37. Is the perception of distance an acquired or an original perception?
38. How do all objects, in the first instance, appear to us?
39. Why do they not appear so now ?
40. What facts are stated on this subject ?
aUESTIONS. *f
Qu. Sert.
41. 43. How do we learn to estimate distances ?
How do landscape and historical painters take advantage of tLis
fact ?
Why do we often misjudge in estimating the width of rivers, plains,
etc. 1
44. Why also in estimating the height of steeples, the distance of the
stars, etc. ?
45. Why does the horizon seem farther off taan the zenith ?
46. 45. The effect, in the apparent distance of objects, of a change in the pu-
4:
43. 44
rity of the air?
CHAPTER Vn.
1. 40. Repeat the law of habit. ^
2. How is this known ? *
3. Can it be resolved into any more general or elementary principle ?
4. What is indicated by the term habit ?
5. Mention some of the things to which we apply the term.
6. 47. Is it confined to the mind ?
7. Its effects on the bodily organs ?
8. Mention several respects in which individuals are distingaished from
one another by habit.
9. 48. What is said of habits of smell ?
10. What facts are stated illustrative of this truth?
11. 49. The effects of habit on taste?
12. What practical view of this subject presents itself here? and Ulua-
• trate.
13. State the three-fold operation in such cases.
14. The only remedy for one whose habits are so confirmed ? and why ?
15. 50. Show that the sense of hearing is capable of cultivation.
16. In whom is it very acute ? and why ?
17. What facts are stated of the blind ?
18. 51. Mention some facts showing that the sense of touch is susceptible of
cultivation.
19. The case of John Metcalf ?
20. How are books for the blind prepared ?
21. 52. Cases of James Mitchell and Julia Brace?
22. What has Diderot conjectured of those that are deprived of both
sight and hearing ?
23. 53. Show that the law of habit affects the sight.
24. What persons possess the sense of sight in greatest perfection?
25. How is this accounted for ?
26. The case of the lady at Geneva, mentioned by Bishop Burnet?
27. What may we learn from such facts ?
28. 54. What important remark is here made with reference to our sensa*
tions ?
29. How is it explained ?
3b. 55. By what are habits often modified ?
31. Illustrate.
32. duote the remarks of Dr. Reid.
33. 56. Does the mind perceive the complete figure of the object at once ?
34. Mr. Stewart's opinion ?
35. How, then, does it happen that we appear to see the object at once 7
^6. 57. Mention some circumstances that tend to confirm Mr. Stewart'* views
on this subject. p
37. 58. Mention the facts stated by Sir Everard Home.
38. (The history of Caspar Hauser 1}
aUESTIONS.
CHAPTER VIII.
Qr ^ct
k. 59. What is meant by conceptions ?
S. How do they differ from the ordinary sensations and perceptions ?
3. Illustrate.
4. How do they differ from ideas of memory ?
5. How are they regulated in their appearance and disappearance ?
6. What is meant by the power of conception ?
7. 60. What striking fact in regard to our conceptions is mentioned ? and
illustrate.
8. What facts are related of the celebrated traveler, Carsten Niebuhr 7
9. Of what senses are the conceptions least vivid ?
10. Hfcw do you explain the fact that our perceptions of sight are more
easily and distinctly recalled than others ?
11. 61. On what, besides association, does the power of forming conce]!tions
depend ? and illustrate.
12. What fact is stated of Beethoven ?
13. 62. Illustrate the influence of habit on conceptions of sight.
14. 63. What is remarked of the subserviency of our conceptions to descrip-
tion?
15. In what does the perfection of description consist ?
16. The best rule for making the selection of particulars?
17. Why is it easier to give a happy description from the conception of
an object than from an actual perception of it ?
18. What great element of poetic power is mentioned ?
19. 64. State several facts to show that our conceptions are attended with
a momentary belief.
20. Why only momentary ?
21. In whom is this particularly observed ?
22. What fact is stated of Dr. Priestly ?
23. 65. In what cases is the belief in our mere conceptions the more evident
and striking ? "
24. What is related of one of the characters sketched by Sir Walter
Scott?
25. 66. How are the effects produced on the mind by exhibitions of fictitious
distress explained ?
za. What else does this fact explain ?
CHAPTER IX.
1. 67. Into what two classes are our mental affections divided ?
2. 68. The first characteristic of a simple idea ?
3. 69. The second characteristic ?
4. What is essential to a legitimate definition ?
5. Why will not this process apply to our simple thoughts and feelings 7
6. If an individual professes to be ignorant of the terms we use when
we speak of simple ideas and feelings, how can we aid him in un-
derstanding them ?
7. (Can you illustrate this remark ?)
8. 70. The third characteristic of a simple mental state 7
9. What does Mr. Locke mean by chimerical ideas ? and why does he
so style them ?
10. Illustrate.
11. 71. Which were first in origin, our simple or our complex states of
mind?
18. What simple notions are embraced in our complex notions of extern-
al material objects ?
13. Of what are our complex ideas made up ?
GUESTIONS. a
Qu. Sect.
14. Which are most numerous, the simple or the complex states cf mind T
15. To what may the ability of originating complex thoughts and feelings
be compared 1
16. 72. What "opinion has been advanced by some with respect to the pri-
ority of the simple mental states ? and illustrate.
17. How is this appearance explained ?
18. 73. Are our thoughts and feelings made up of others, or complex in the
material sense qf the expression ?
19. What, then, constitutes their complexness ?
20. How is this subject illustrated ?
21. How is the language which expresses the composition and complex*
# ity of thought to be regarded 1
22. 74. What do you understand by the term analysis ?
23. What is the distinction between the analysis of material bodies and
of complex thoughts 1
24 When do we perform mental analysis ?
25. Analyze the term government.
26. 75. To what is the doctrine of simplicity and complexness of mental states
applicable ?
27. Are the acts of the will simple or complex ?
28. What are our simple ideas ?
29. Are our ideas of external objects simple or complex ? and illustrate.
30. 76. What are some of the elements presented in the term loadstone?
31. Also in the term gold 1
CHAPTER X.
1. n. What is abstraction ?
2. What are abstract ideas ?
3. Into what two classes may they be divided?
4. 78. What are particular abstractions ? and illustrate.
5. The distinctive mark of particular abstract ideas ?
6. Does the abstraction exist in the object itself, or only in the mind?
7. 79. Does the mind possess a separate factdty adapted solely to this par-
ticular purpose 1
8. Is it nearer to the truth to speak of the process or the power of ab-
straction ?
9. What must necessarily take place in every case of separating a par-
ticular abstract idea ?
10. What is said of the principle of association in abstraction ?
11. Illustrate.
12. What, then, is the process of the mind in abstraction?
13. 80. What are general abstract ideas ? "" , .
14. How.are they distinguished from the great body of our other complex
nations ?
15. How are general abstract ideas expressed ?
16. 81. What fact shows that we find no practical diflSculty in forming theso
classifications ?
17. What is the process in classification ?
18. Illustrate.
19. 82. Are our early classifications always correct?
20. Why ■axe they sometimes incorrect, and how are they corrected?
21. 83. Give an illustration of our earliest classifications?
23P84. Does the general idea embrace e^ry particular which makes a part
of the corresponding object?
23. Illustrate.
24. Why called abstract ideas ?
25. Why called gemral 7 r r • u
26. 85. What is said of the ability which the mmd possesses of formmg sncn
ideas?
10 QUESTIONS..
Qu. Sect
27. What power does this give us ?
28. Why should we not be able even to number without this ability?
29. 86. State the process in ibrraing general abstract truths.
30. 87. What is the difference between the speculations of philosophers and
of common men ?
31. Why are their general reasonings not so difficult in performance as
is apt to be supposed ?
32. What is said of the speculations of the great bulk of mankind ?
CHAPTER XT.
1. 88. What is attention ?
2. Is it a separate intellectual faculty?
3. Is the distinct and exclusive mental perception all of attention ?
4. What is it that keeps the mind intense and fixed in its position ?
5. 89. When is the attention said to be slight, and when intense ?
6. How do we commonly judge of the degree of attention given to a
subject ?
7. What is it that induces us to bestow much time on any subject ?
8. What remark is made of Julius Cassar's and Bonaparte's power of
attention ?
9. 90. On what does memory depend, and how is this shown ?
10. Mention five facts that confirm this statement.
11. duote Shakspeare's remark on this subject.
12. 91. What important direction is here given, and the reason for it /
13. State the disadvantages of attempting to learn too many things at
once.
14. The most important part of education?
15. How is this effected?
16. By what process is the mind weakened ?
17. 92. Is it an easy matter to keep the attention fixed on one subject?
18. The cause of the difficulty ?
19. By what is intense attention always accompanied?
20. What is the only thing that will confine the minds of men in scieu
tific pursuits ?
21. What does Mr. Locke say on this subject ?
22. What anecdote is related of D'Alembert?
CHAPTER XII.
1. 93. What are dreams ?
2. Why have they excited so much attention ?
3. Can any one be found that has never dreamed ?
4. 94. The first thing that aiTests our attention in dreams ?
5. How is it accounted for ? *
6. What facts are related of Condorcet and Franklin?
7. What of Coleridge ?
8. The inference from these facts ?
9. Why did President Edwards think it needful to notice his drettms ?
10. 95. What other circumstance aff'ects our dreams ?
11. State the two facts related in evidence of this.
12. What other cause still of dreams is mentioned?
13. State the facts mentioned in evidence of this.
14. What else has considerable influence in producing dreams, and giv-
ing them a particular character?
15. 96. The first cause of the incoherency of dreams ?
1 6. What keeps the train of our thoughts coherent and uniform while wa
are awake ?
17. 97. The second cause of the incoherency of dreams ?
18. Is the mind ever inactive ?
aUESTIONS. II
q-1. Sect.
10. To what are our thoughts and feelings during- sleep compared?
20. 98. How do objects and events appear to us in dreams ?
21. The first cause of this apparent reality ?
22. How is this explained ?
23. When are our conceptions most distinct and vivid ? and why so?
24. 39. The second cause of the apparent reality of dreams ?
25. Illustrate.
26. In what case does belief always attend our perceptions ?
27. 100. How do we estimate time in dreaming? and illustrate.
28. Repeat the anecdote related by Dr. Abercrombie.
29. - Relate that of Count Lavalette.
30. '.01. How is this estimate of time explained by some?
31. The true explanation ?
•*2. Repeat the remarks of Stewart.
PART II.
CHAPTER I.
7!. 102. In what way have we seen the mind connected with the material
world ?
2. Is all our knowledge derived from the senses ?
3. The natural progress of all true knowledge ? •
4. Locke's docti'ine ?
u. 103. The two sources of knowledge according to him?
6. Mention certain ideas which could not" be derived from external
things.
7. What might be styled the "internal sense?"
8. The name commonly given to it ?
9. 104. In making the human^soul a subject of inquiry, what distinction may
be drawn ?
10. What inquiry naturally arises here?
11. How is it answered ?
12. Could we have had any knowledge without the senses?
13. 105. Is, then, the whole amount of our knowledge to be ascribed directly
to an external source ?
14. What is all that can be said with trutli on this point ?
15. What are ideas of reflection?
16. Are the sources of human thought, the internal and the external,
distinct or confounded ?
17. 106. Mention some of the notions which are to be ascribed to the intern-
al sense.
18. Can the mind remain for any length of time inactive 7
19. What do you mean by thinking ?
20. Is its origin internal or extern eQ 7
21. The origin of doubting ?
22. What is all we can say of it?
23. How is belief occasioned ?
24. What do we denominate certainty?
^5. '.07. Mention other ideas of internal origin?
26 How is it determined that thipe are of internal origin T
87, Sum up what has been said in this chapter.
12 . aUESTlONS.
CHAPTER 11.
Qu. Sect.
1. 108. How is the word suggestion used ?
2. Who first proposed the use of this term?
3. What class of ideas does he attribute to it?
4. What are some of the ideas which Stewart attrilules to it?
5. What, for example, does he say of duration?
6. 109. What is said of the idea of existence ?
7. The origin of the notion of mind ?
8. The origin of personal identity?
9. 110. Why does the author decline to explain the nature of unity ?
10. How has it been defined ?
11. How does the idea of it originate ?
12. What is the process by which we form numbers ?
13. 111. The nature of succession ?
14. What simple fact forms the occasion on which the idea of succes-
sion is suggested to the mind ?
15. Why can it not be defined ?
16. Show that it can not be referred to any thing external.
17. 112. The distinction between it and the idea of duration?
18. Which exists first in the order ofnature, succession or duration ?
19. Why do we know nothing of duration when we are asleep ?
20. 113. How is the priority of the tiotion of succession proved? two facts.
21. 114. What is time?
22. How is it measured ?
23. * How does it differ from duration ?
24. What is eternity ?
25. 115. The origin of our idea of space?
26. How is it shown not to be external ?
27. What other consideration shows the same thing ?
28. What is your idea of space ?
29. 116. When did we first get the idea of space ?
30. What is it supposed may have been the original occasion of the
rise of this idea?
31. What other supposition still more probable is mentioned ?
32. 117. The origin of the idea of power?
33. Can there be any accountable existence without it 1 and why not 1
34. 118. State the three-fold occasion of the origin of this idea?
3.5. 119. The origin of the ideas of right and wrong?
36. Show that this arrangement of them has an important connection
with the theory of morals.
37. Can right ever become wrong, or wrong right ?
38. 120. Which are first in the order of nature, right and wrong, or merit
and demerit ?
39. What is implied in merit and demerit?
40. Can the ideas of merit and demerit be defined?
41. 121. How is reason defined?
42 Why does the author prefer the term suggestion, as designative
of the origin of the ideas we have been considering, to the word
reason ?
43. Mention other ideas which should be referred to suggestion.
44. 122. Is original suggestion the basis of ideas only?
45. The basis of the comparative intellect ?
46. Mention several elementary propositions which are prerequisites of
the exercise of the deductive faculty.
1.
Sect.
123.
b.
4.
5.
124.
6.
7.
8.
9.
125.
10.
11.
QUESTIONS. 13
CHAPTER III.
The second source of our internal knowledge ?
What is consciousness ?
What three distinct notions does every instance of consciousness
embrace ?
Illustrate.
Can we be conscious of thoughts or emotions that have agitated us
in times past ?
Can we be conscious of material or immaterial objects which are
external to the mind ? Illustrate.
Are we conscious of the existence of our own minds ?
Of what, then, are we conscious?
What is said of the belief attendant on the exercise of conscioas-
ness?
The reason of such belief?
What is said of one that seriou.sly rejects the testimony of his own
consciousness ?
Ki. 126. Are the ideas, states of mind, etc., that come within the range of con-
sciousness, few or many ?
13. Mention several of the various degrees of belief that are matters of
consciousness.
14. Mention the names of other intellectual acts and operations that are
expressive of the subjects of our consciousness.
15. What emotions does it include ?
16. What complex emotions or passions does it include ?
17. What moral and religious emotions also ?
18 What consideration shows us that this enumeration might be car*
ried to a much greater extent ?
CHAPTER IV.
1. 127. What is remarked of the expression, " The mind brings its thoughts
together," etc ?
2. What is the meaning of it ?
3. What is. relative suggestion?
4. What ultimate fact in our mental nature is spoken of here?
5. 128. What is said of the relations of things and of thoughts ? and illus-
trate.
6. Mention several terms that express the ideas of relatio .
7. 129, What are correlative terms ?
8. The advantage derived from their use ?
9. 130. Why is it difficult to classify our relations ?
JO. Repeat the seven classes enumerated.
11. What is said of the relation of identity and diversity ?
12. Illustrate.
13. Show the utility of this relation.
14. 131. What is said of the relation of degree? and illustrate.
15. By what tenus are such relations expressed?
16. Show how, from this relation alone, the importance of the power of
relative suggestion is shown.
17. 132. In what respect are the relations of proportion peculiar?
18. In what are they particularly discoverable ?
*19. 133. Under what circumstances do we form the idea of the relations of
place ? •
20. What is meant by position or place ?
21. Illustrate.
22. Why can we form no idea of the position of the universe considered
as a whole ?
23. What is meant by the words high and low, near and distant?
14 QUESTIONS.
Qu. Sect
24. 134. How do time and place resemble ea(;li other?
25. Are our notions of time relative or absolute ?
26. Under what aspect is all time contemplated?
87. What do we mean when we say of any event, it happerod on such
a day, say July 4th, 1776 ? and illustrate.
28. Under what head, then, may all dates be classed?
29. 135. What is meant by relations of possession ?
30. How soon do we learn this relation? and illustrate.
31. Does it increase or diminish in strength ?
32. What class of words have their origin here ?
33. Show that the verb " to be" often expresses this relation.
34. Mention certain complex terras which involve this relation.
35. 136. What does the notion of cause and effect, as it first exists in the
mind, include ?
36. What constitutes the full notion of cause?
37. What of effect ?
38. To what do we give the name of events ?
39. 137. Mention several terms in which the relation of cause and effect is
embodied, and illustrate.
40. 138, What connection has relative suggestion with reasoning in general ?
41. What relations are embraced in demonstrative reasoning ?
42. What in moral reasoning ?
CHAPTER V.
1. 139. Why do we take up the subject of association and memory before
that of the reasoning powers ?
2. 140. What is mental association?
3. Give an illustration of it.
4. Another, from Chateaubriand.
5. 141. Do we know why it is that our thoughts and feelings succeed one
another in a regular train ?
6. What is the extent of our knowledge on this subject?
7. What is meant by the laws of association?
8. Repeat the most important of them.
9. 142. What do we mean by saying that new trains of ideas and new emo
tions are occasioned by resemblance ?
10. How is this fact explained ?
11. Illustrate it.
12. duote the remark of Lander.
13. Is the association which is founded on resemblance limited to objects
of sight ?
14. Repeat the poetry on this subject.
15. 143. Show in what way resemblance operates as an associating princi-
ple.
16. Give several illustrations of this.
17. Repeat the comparison of Akenside.
IS. Why do we often speak of nature as animated, etc.?
19. 144. What is the law of contrast?
20. Give the outHnes of Count Lemaistre's story of the leper.
21. The foundation of antithesis ?
22. 145. The law of contiguity ? and illustrate.
23. When we speak of the crucifixion of our Savior, what thoughts are
suggested to our minds ?
24. What when the American Revolution is named ?
25. Which of the primary laws of association is the mcBt extensive in
its influence ?
26. What forms the basis of the calendar of the mass o men?
27. Illustrate. '-"■
28 146. The law of cause and effect?
aUESTIONS. 15
<iu. Sect.
Show that this is one of the primary principles of our mental asso«
ciatious.
30. Illustrate the law.
31. Mention the incident related by Locke. ^
32. Repeat the remark of Shakspeare.
CHAPTER VI.
1. 147. Repeat the four secondary laws of mental association.
2. Show that they are not of minor importance.
3. To what are the primary and secondary laws compared ?
4. 148. Repeat the first law of lapse of time.
5. Illustrate this law.
6. What apparent exception to this law is mentioned?
7. What two remarks are made on this point 1
8. 149. Repeat the law of repetition, and illustrate.
9. What is said of the operation of this law in particular arts and pro-
fessions ?
10. 150. Repeat the law of coexistent emotion.
11. Why are bright objects more readily recalled than faint ones ?
12. Why are those events in our history that were attended with great
joy or sorrow longest remembered ?
13. 151. In what respect are there original differences in the mental consti-
tution of rnen ?
14. In what channel do the associations of the great mass of mankind
ran ? and why ?
15. What original differences are often seen in men? Illustrate,
16. Repeat the substance of what is said of Newton,
17. 152. What two classes of persons are spoken of here as originally dif-
ferent ?
18. How does Milton illustrate the difference ?
19. What other thing is mentioned as modifying our trains of thought?
20. Recapitulate the primary and secondary laws of association,
CHAPTER VII.
1. 153. Why is the subject of memory taken up after that of association?
2. To what is memory essential '/
3. What is memory ?
4. Is it a simple or complex action of the intellectual principle?
5. What does it imply ?
6. What is meant by this ?
7. Illustrate the distinction between our conceptions and memory.
8. 154, In what cases is our belief controlled by our remembrances?
9. How do we know when to rely on our memory ?
10. 'What would be our condition without such a reliance ?
11. 155, What is remarked of the ability to remember?
12. Relate several instances of great memory.
13. 156, What is circumstantial memory ?
14. Explain it at large.
15. What kind of memory prevails among anedacated people ?
16. 157, How is this illustrated by Shakspeare?
17. 158, What is philosophic memory ?
. 18. By what is it sustained ?
19. What is remarked of Montaigne I
20. 159. Under what two forms does every department of science present
itself to our notice ?
21 Which form does the circumstantial memory rapidly embrace 7
22 Q.uote Mr. Stewart's remarks on this topic.
23. 160. What is intentional recollection?
16 aUESTIONS.
Ou. S<3< I,
24. Are our trains of associated thought voluntary ?
25. Can we will to remember any particular event?
26. In what does our chief power in quickening and strengthening the
memory consist?
27. 161. How do we set about to recall any circumstances which we wish
to remember? Two ways.
28. 162. Give the illustration furnished by Dr. Beattie.
29. How else are these views illustrated?
30. 163. What are the two prominent marks of a good memory t
31. To what is tenacity of memory compared?
32. Do men of philosophic minds usually possess a ready memory?
33. 164. The first direction for improving the memory ?
34. The remark of Stewart on this point ?
35. The advantage of always endeavoring to understand what we'
study ?
36. The second direction, etc. ?
37. Illustrate the benefit of such classification,
38. The third direction ?
39. How illustrated ?
40. Tw4) advantages of studying geography with maps, etc. ?
41. Give another illustration of this rule in the reading of history.
42. 165. The fourth direction ?
43. Mention an instance of the utter violation of this rule.
44. The fifth rule ?
45. 166. What other help to memory is here noticed?
46. What remark is made of Dr. Johnson on this point?
47. Show how it is that a strict regard to truth is a help to memory.
CHAPTER Vni.
What opinion of Lord Bacon is here noticed'/
Why is it of importance to examine it ?
What question suggests itself here ?
How is it answered ?
What does our experience teach us on this point ?
Repeat the poetic quotation.
On what does the ability of the mind to restore its past experiencea
depend ?
What admitted facts render this probable ?
What important views do these facts confirm ?
What is the proximate cause of the great acceleration of the intel-
lectual acts in cases of drowning ?
What fact is stated of the influence of disease on the mind ?
State the facts related of the American traveler.
171. State those related of the young German woman.
What inferences did Coleridge draw from this instance ?
What is implied in the term education ?
What is said of the eftect of a single remark?
What effect should such a consideration have on us ?
Why is it so important to introduce truth and right principles into
tt'.e mind of a child ?
What other practical remark is suggested by these considerations ?
What objection has been raised to "the Scriptural doctrine of a final
judgment ?
What gives it all its plausibihty ?
Can the power of reminiscence ever die?
Repeat the poetry on this subject.
1.
167,
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
168.
8.
9.
10.
11.
169.
12.
170.
13.
171.
14.
15.
172.
16.
17.
18.
19.
'7.3.
20.
21.
22.
23.
aUESTIONS. 17
CHAPTER IX.
Qu. Sect.
1. 174. To what are we indebted for our knowledge of the operatic«s of the
faculty of reasoning ?
2. Is reasoning identical with, or involved in, consciousness 7
3. What is it that gives us a knowledge of our own existence?
4. "What of the operations of our minds?
5. What enables us to reason ?
6. For what knowledge are we indebted to reason ?
7. What is the office of reason?
8. 175. How is reasoning defined ?
9. What-are propositions ?
10. May a proposition exist in the mind without being expressed in
words ?
11. What are the parts of a proposition ?
12. Define each, and illustrate.
13. How have propositions been divided ?
14. Define each, and illustrate.
15. To what are propositions compared ?
16. 176. How many propositions are essential to every process of reasoning 7
17. Is the arrangement of propositions arbitrary ?
18. Are they brought into existence by an act of volition?
19. By what are they suggested ?
20. 177. Give an illustration of the preceding statement.
21. Illustrate the manner in which this consecution of propositions takes
place.
22. What is all the direct voluntary power possessed in such cases ?
23. 178. State the grounds of the selection of propositions.
24. How does the mind discover the agreement or disagreement of the
propositions presented to it ?
25. In what does the difference in the various kinds of reasoning con-
sist ?
26. 179. On what does reasoning necessarily proceed ?
27. Show that this must be so.
28. Are the propositions assumed always expressed?
29. What are primary truths ?
30. 180. What things are assuuu;(l in reasoning?
31. 181. Do all persons possess the faculty of reasoning to the same extent?
32. On what does the difference depend ? Three things.
33. .Why is knowledge necessary ?
34. Why is premeditation essential to one who would reason well on
any subject ?
35. 182. What is said of the power of habit in reasoning ? and illustrate.
36. 183. The great instrument ofreasoning?
37. What is said of persons who are suddenly called upon to state their
arguments in public debate ?
38. What is said of Oliver Cromwell ?
39 184. Give another illustration.
4C To what is this perplexity often owing ?
41. What are these mental habits referred to?
CHAPTER X.
1. 185. In what respects does demonstrative reasoning differ from ever?
• other species of reasoning? ^ -
2. What are the subjects of it ?
3. What are abstract ideas ?
4. What topics come tinder this head ?
5. What are the subjects of moral reasoning? and illustrate.
6. 186, What is essential to every process of reasoning ?
18 aUESTIONS.
Qu. Sect
7. What are the preluninary truths in demonstrative reasoning ?
8. Mention certain general facts in natural pliilosopliy which may be
considered as first principles. ,
9. What are axioms ? and illustrate.
10. Can we complete a demonstration by their assistance alone ?
11. 187. Why is it necessary, in demonstrations, to consider but one side of
a question ? and illustrate.
12. How does this diifer from moral reasoning? and illustrate.
13. 183. Do demonstrations admit of diti'ereut degrees of behef ?
14. Show why they can not.
15. What is the case in moral reasoning, and why ?
16. 189. What is the proper use of diagrams in demonstrations?
17. In what respect does demonstrative reasoning resemble every other
kind of reasoning ?
18. How does it appear that diagrams are not essentially necessary in
demonstrations ?
19. Wliat remark does Cudworth make on this subject?
20. What is a definition ?
CHAPTER XL
1. 190. The subjects of moral reasoning?
2. Show its importance.
3. Does skill in demonstrative reasoning make one a good reasoner in
moral subjects also ?
4. The effect of demonstrative reasoning on the mind ?
5. 191. Point out the resemblance and dissimilarity between this and moral
reasoning.
6. Which kind is attended with knowledge ?
7. Are the conclusions from moral reasoning necessarily doubtful ?
8. illustrate.
9. ' What is moral certainty ?
10. 192. What do we mean by analogy?
11. What is analogical reasoning ?
12. Illustrate.
13. The proper use of such reasoning ?
14. 193. Wiiat is inductive reasoning?
15. Illustrate.
16. What is said of the belief which attends such reasoning?
17. The results of such reasoning?
18. 194. What is remarked of accumulated arguments in demonstrations?
19. What in moral reasoning ? and the grounds of this opinion ?
20. Illustrate.
CHAPTER XII.
What is logic ? and its object ?
The first direction in relation to reasoning ?
What is the opposite of a desire of the truth ?
What are the great enemies of truth?
Why is this rule of importance particularly in public debate ?
The second rule ?
In what ways is this rule often disregarded?
The practice of special pleaders ?
At what should dialecticians aim?
The third rule ? _
Wliat kind of evidence have we when the inquiry is one of a purely
abstract nature ?
What in the examination of matei'ial bodies?
In which is the conclusion most relied on ?
1.
195.
2.
196.
3.
4
5.
6.
197.
7.
8.
9.
10.
193.
11.
12.
13.
aUESTIONS. 19
Qu. Sect.
14. In what cases do we rely on testimony ?
15. To what extent do we rely on this?
16. In wluit cases have we the evidence of induction ?
17. In what the evidence ofanalouy ?
18. 199. What is a sophism?
19. What is said of them ?
20. Mention four species of sophism. ^
21. Explain tlie ignoratio elenchi, and illustrate.
22. Explain and illustrate the petitio priucipii,
23. What is arguing in a circle ?
24. Explain the non causa pro causa, and illustrate.
25. Explain the faJiacia accidentis.
26. 200. What further direction is given ?
27. What remark is made of the meaning of words in every language ]
28. 201. What other sophism is common ?
29. In what does this fallacy consist ?
30. What is said of Alexander and Charles XII.?
31. W^hat of Cajsar and Catiline ?
32. 202. What remark is here made of adhei-ence to our opinions ?
33. Why should we not always give up an opinion when objections are
raised which we can not answer?
34. 203. What is said of contending for victory instead of truth?
35. How is it often done ?
36. What remark has been made of persons that addict themselves tc
tliis practice ?
37. The cause of such a result ?
38. What is said of Chillingworth ?
CHAPTER XIIL
1. 204. Under what general head does imagination come ?
2. With what are we apt to associate the exercises of the imagination?
3. What is said of one that possesses a creative and well-sustained
imagination ?
4. 205. What further remark is made of the imagination?
5. What does D'Alembert say of it ?
6. What does he say of Archimedes ?
7. In what three respects do the deductive and imaginative powers
resemble each other ?
8. In what do they differ?
9. What are the objects of each ?
10. Contrast the two. ,
11. '^06. What is imagination?
13. What ?i-e tlie mateiials from which new creations are made?
13. To what have they been compared?
14. How is the ditlerence between the imagination of the mass of man-
kind, and of poets, painters, and orators, illustrated ?
15. Why do we speak of imagination as a complex operation of the
mind ?
16. 207. State in full the process of the mind in the creations of the iniayiu-
ation.
17. 208. What name do we give to this complex state, or series of states of
the mind ? ./.•-!
•a. Why is it important to have a single term expressive of it 7
19! Is imagination an original ai# independent faculty ?
20. What is it, then ?
21. 209. The illustration of Dr. Reid ?
22. 210. What question naturally suggests itself^i^re 7
23. How is it answered ?
S4. Is any voluntary power exercised over our conceptions 7
20 QUESTIONS.
Qu. Sect.
25. 211. How was Milton enabled to fonn his happy conception of the Gar-
den of Eden?
26. Has his conception ever been realized on earth ?
27. 212. What erroneous opinion on this subject has widely prevailed?
28. Give an illustration.
29. "What practical application does this view admit of ?
30. What is said of Scott and Bunyan ?
31. 213. How is this subject illustrated in the case of Byron?
32. Cluote the remark of Sir Joshua Reynolds.
33. 214. What have some supposed respecting the utility of the imagin-
ation ?
34. Why is this a reflection on the Creator?
35. In whom has the power of the imagination shown itself most con-
spicuously ?
36. What is said of them?
37. In what instances has the imagination contributed to national glory
and national happiness 1
38. Mention other benefits of it.
39. What has Addison said of it 7
40. 215. In what important point of view may it be considei'ed ?
41. What remark is made on this ?
42. Why are many able reasoners so dull and uninteresting 1
43. How may reasoning be made interesting?
CHAPTER XIV.
1. 216. Are the operations of the mind always uniform?
2. What occasions these deviations from fixed laws
3. On what does the action of the will depend 1
4. On what the sensibilities ?
5. The two-fold action of the intellect ?
6. Which is first in the order of time ?
7. Which in the order of nature ?
8. What is essential to the action of the external intellect I
9. The inference from this fact?
10. 217. What subject does this fact elucidate ?
11. What are conceptions ?
12. What are excited conceptions ?
13. What are apparitions ?
14. What kind claim our especial attention, and why ?
25. 218. W^hat two things are to be noticed in explanation of them
16. What fact is stated of children ?
17. Quote the remark of Cowper,
18. That of Beattie.
19. Illustrate the fact that excited concejitions are called into existence
by anxiety of mind, etc.
20. Illustrate the fact in the case of Mrs. Howe.
21. 219. What is said of excited conceptions of sound? and illustrate.
32. What incidents in the life of Johnson and Napoleon does this ex-
plain ?
23. 220. What is the first cause of pennanently vivid conceptions or appa-
ritions ?
24. W^hy is this conjectural?
25. What fact is it necessary to keep in mind in order to understand
the applicabihty of this cause ?
26. How is this illustrated?
27. How does this case explain the cause of apparitions ?
28. How is this explanation confirmed ?
29. 221. The second cause of apparitions ?
30. State the case of Nicolai.
UUESTIONS. 21
«^u. Sect.
31. 222. How was he relieved ?
32. 223. The third cause of apparitions ?
33. State the case recorded in the Philosophical Jouraal.
34. 224. The fourth cause of apparitions ?
35. What general remark is made in confirmation of this cause ?
36. What proportion of the blood is sent immediately from the heart
into the brain ?
37. In what way does nitrous oxide affect the brain ?
3S. What opinion do these facts seem to confirm?
39. By what fact is it controverted ?
40. 225. State the fact related in illustration of the fourth cause of appari<
tions.
41. 226. The fifth cause of apparitions ?
42. What is said of hysteria ?
CHAPTER XV.
1. 227, Meaning of the term insanity?
2. "What do we usually understand by it ?
3. What is partial, and what is total insanity ?
4. 228. What is remarked of disordered sensations ?
5. State a case of a disordered sensation of touch.
6. The case of Mendelsohn ?
7. 229. The distinction between sensation and perception ?
8. When are our perceptions likely to be disordered ?
9. State facts on this subject.
10. 230. What conviction is essential to a sound mind?
11. What fact is related of the Rev. S. Browne?
12. 231. What produces insanity of consciousness ?
13. State the case of the w^atchmaker.
14. 232. Is original suggestion or relative more frequently disordered ?
15. Why is the latter so frequently so?
16. 233. What is light-headeduess ?
17. The characteristics of the light-headed?
18. 234. State the case of Lavater.
19. 235. What is said of disordered memory ?
20. The three kinds of it ?
21. Illustrations of the second kind '/
22. Illustrations of the third ? *
23. 236. When is the inability to reason total ?
24. Is this usually the case?
25. The most common form of alienated reason ? and illustrate.
26. 237. Describe the case of Don auixote. ,
27. 238. How do men of sensibility sometimes become mentally disordered T
28. The case of Rousseau ?
89. 239. Three kinds of insanity, or alienation of the power of belief?
30, What is remarked of the first kind when the inability to believe u
great ?
31 . What of the second ?
23 QUESTIONS.
DIVISION 11.
INTRODUCTION. .
How has the mind been divided ?
Are these divisions strongly mai-ked?
In what do they diifer ?
How is it ascertained that they differ in their nature?
Which comes first in order ?
What is' essential to the action of the sensibilities ?
How is this shown ?
If our intellectual powers were dormant, what would be the effect
on the sensibilities ?
To what is the activity of the sensibilities proportioned ?
How are the sensibilities divided?
By whom was the term pathematic introduced?
To what state of mind is it applicable ?
What different views do the natural and moral sensibilities appear
to take of the objects in respect to which they are called into ex-
ercise ?
14. What would be the effect of obliterating from man's constitution his
conscience ?
15. In this case, by what would his movements be dictated ?
16. What would be the center around which his motives of action
would revolve ?
17. What teaches him to act with reference to the glory of Grod ?
18. 244. Which division of the sensibilities occupy the higher rank?
19. Which are higher in our estimation, the instincts or the appetites ?
20. The appetites or the affections ?
21. What other remark is made of our moral sensibilities ?
22. 245. Do brutes possess moral sensibilities ?
23. What do they possess in common with man ?
24. What, then, "is the ground of distinction between men and brutes ?
25. 246. How are the natural sensibilities divided ?
26. Which come first in the order of time and nature, the emotions or
the desires ?
27. How is this fact otherwise stated ?
28. Show that this fact is necessarily so.
29. 247. How are the moral sensibilities divided ?
30. To what do the obligatory feelings correspond ?
Qa.
Sect.
1.
240.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
241.
7:
8.
9.
10.
242.
11.
12.
13.
243.
PART L— CLASS I.
CHAPTER I. , * '
1. 248 Why can not a verbal "explanation be given of the emotions ?
2 Why can not any thing simple be defined?
3 How do we learn the nature of the emotions ?
4 24S. The place of the emotions considered with reference to other mei»-
tal acts ?
QUESTIONS. 23
Qu. Sect
5. What is said of the desires ?
G. What do we mean when we speak of any thing as pleasant to us ?
7. What is essential to a feeling of moral obligation ?
8. Oil what are our desires founded ?
9. On what our emotions ?
10. 250. By what are oar desires followed ? "
11. By what our obligatory feelings ?
12. How is it shown.that our emotions are founded on oar intellections t
13. Illustrate.
14. 251. By what are emotions characterized?
15. To what are they compared ?
16. How do they ditler from the desires and feelings of moral obliga-
tion ?
17. What are some of the varieties of our emotions?
IS. Why is it essential to understand the distinctions that exist in the
sensibilities ?
CHAPTER II.
1. 252. The two characteristics of the emotion of beauty?
2. 253. What objects do we call beautiful ?
3. What do we mean, then, when we say an object has beauty ?
4. 254. How are beautiful objects distinguished from other objects ?
5. Why does the mind experience a pleasant emotion in view of cer-
tain objects ?
6. 255. How may the term beauty be regarded ? and why?
7. What are some of the occasions of the emotions of beauty ?
8. What is remarked of the human countenance ?
9. What does a mathematician regard as beautiful ? a logician ?
10. What, then, is the province of beauty ?
11. 256. Are all objects equally fitted to cause the emotion of beauty ?
12. What important inquiry does this suggest?
13. 257. What must be taken for granted in answering this question ?
14. How do we know that we have a susceptibility to beauty ?
15. Have the emotions of beauty fixed causes or antecedents?
16. Can the antecedents exist and not be followed by these emotions?
17. What is meant by the ajsthetic power of objects ?
18. 258. What figure is universally regarded as beautiful?
19. What vras Hogarth's fine of beauty ?
20. In what natural objects do we find this line ?
21. 259. What two kinds of beauty are mentioned here?
22. What is intrinsic beauty ?
23. Mention some objects that possess it.
24. 260. What other forms have beauty ?
25. Quote the remark of Mr. Alison.
26. 261. What is said of the square?
27. What other forms of beauty are mentioned, and what is said of
them ?
28. What does Mr. Alison say of the tripod ?
29. What explanatory remark is made in connection with the foregoing
statements, and how is it illustrated?
30. 262. What is said of the beauty of colors?
31. By what considerations is this opinion supported?
32. What is remarked of infants?
R. What of savages ? #
34. What of the uneducated?
35. Who are most pleased with gaudy colors ?
36. 263. What additional proof is given of the fact that colors are of them-
selves fitted to cause emotions of beauty ?
37. What facts are mentioned of the early hfe of James Mitchell ?
24 auESTioNS.
Qu. Sect
38. 264. When are sounds termed beautiful ?
39. What sounds are disa^eeable?
40. What are entirely indifferent ?
41. duote Mr. Alison's remarks.
42. 265. How are musical sotuids characterized ?
43. Are they intrinsically beautiful, or so from association only ?
44. The first consideration that goes to prove this ?
45. Wbat is said of brutes in tliis connection ?
46. The second consideration to prove that there is an intrinsic beauty
in musical sounds ?
47. The third consideration, etc. ?
48. What fact is related of a Jesuit missionary?
49. 266. The fourth consideration ?
50. What is said of Caspar Hauser in this connection ?
51. 267. On v^hat does tlie permanency of musical power depend?
52. What does this prove ?
53. 268. What other element of beauty is mentioned?
54. What motions are pleasing ?
55. What remarks are made of ascending columns of smoke 1
56. 269. What kinds of motion are agreeable ?
57. Wliy is long-continued swift motion disagreeable?
58. Why very slow motion ?
59. What kinds of motion are the most agreeable ?
CHAPTER HI.
1. 270. What two positions on the subject of beauty are- laid down in this
section ?
2. The remark of Stewart on this subject ?
3. Can association originate or create any thing?
4. To what is it compared ?
5. 271. Is it possible for an object to become beautiful by association
merely ?
6. Illustrate.
7. 272. What gives tlie country half its charms?
8. What invests with beauty the Rock of Plymouth? "
9. Repeat tlie poetry of Rogers.
10. 273. Mention several instances of national associations.
11. Mention several in colors.
12. What is often the effect on the countenance of a single crime ?
13. 274. Witli what are the sources of associated beauty coincident?
14. 275. Give a summary of what has been said on this subject. 1st, 2d, 3d
4th, 5th.
CHAPTER IV.
1. 276. What is remarked of emotions of sublimity ?
2. Illustrate the progression from the gentle to the sublime.
3. In what respect do emotions of sublimity diflFer from those 01
beauty ?
4. 277. Why are they undefinable ?
5. How do we, then, obtain a knowledge of them ?
6. How do we measure the sublimity of an object ?
7. 278. What is the first source of sublimity mentioned ?
8. daote the remarks of Stewart and of Washington Irving.
9. 279. Mention another source of sublimity.
10. Illustrate.
11. 280. Mention a tliird source.
12. Q,uote Burke's remark.
13. 281. A fourth source ? and illustrate.
auESTioNs, 25
Qu. Sect
14. Give the Scripture quotation.
15. 282. A fifth source ? and illustrate.
16. The remark of Coleridge ?
17. 283. A sixth source ? and illustrate.
18. 284. A seventh source ? and illustrate.
19. Is the emotion in these instances to be ascribed to one cause onljr f
20. 285. How does it appear that these are objects originally sublime t
21. 286. How is this proved ?
22. How illustrated in the case of Sir William Jones ?
23. 287. To what is a share of the emotion to be attributed ?
24,. How is this shown ?
CHAPTER V.
1. 288. What is said of the emotions of the ludicrous '/
2. • What modifies the pleasm-e we experience from them 1
3. 289. The origin of the feeling ?
4. Does the discovery of new relations in every case give rise to it T
5. Mention several instances in which it does not.
6. What else is necessary to the production of these emotions ?
7. 290. With what are they closely allied ?
8. In what does wit consist ?
9. 291. The first method which wit employs in exciting emotions of the lu-
dicrous ?
10. What are such descriptions termed ?
11. Is it morally right to attempt to burlesque what is truly great T
12. Repeat the examples fi'om Hudibras.
13. 292. The second method whicli wit employs to excite emotions of the !•>
dicrous ?
14. What is it tenned?
15. How does it differ from the former kind?
16. Repeat the example.
17. What are included in this division of wit ?
18. Repeat an example of this kind ?
19. 293. What subject closely borders on wit?
20. Illustrate what you mean by humor and the hamorotui.
21. Are such feelings useless ?
22. The reasons for such an opinion ?
23. 294. Is ridicule the proper weapon to use against vice ?
24. In what cases is it allowable ?
25. What writers have treated of tliis subject in full 7
CHAPTER VL
1. 295. What is cheerfulness ?
2. What are joy and delight 7
3. What is gladness ?
4. 296. The opposite of these emotions ?
5. The distinction between melancholy and sorrow T
6. The distinction between grief and sorrow ?
7. How do grief and sorrow show themselves t
8. 297. What is surprise ?
9. What is astonishment 7
JO. What is wonder 7
^1. The utility of this emotion? »
12. Show in what manner it is usefiiL
13. 293. What is dissatisfaction ?
14. How does it differ from displeasure t
15. How torn disgust 7
10. 299. What is dilfidence 7
26 auESTioNS.
Qu. Sect.
17. How does it differ from modesty 7
1& Its utility ?
19. What is shame ?
20. How charactei-ized ?
21 By what is it occasioned ? ■•, j«
22. 300. The foundation of the respect we pay to the mass of mankindT
23 What is reverence ?
24. What is adoration ?
23, Recapitulate the emotions that have been touched upon.
PART I.— CLASS 11.
CHAPTER I.
Of what two kinds of sensibilities does the author treat?
How are the natural sensibilities divided ?
What is said of desire?
What is essential to every appetite, propensity, and affection ?
Why can we not define the desires ?
How, then, do we obtain a knowledge of them ?
Why is it important to obtain a definite idea of the place of d-8r
sires ?
Do desires follow intellections immediately or not ?
How is this shown ?
The proximate and causative occasion of desires?
What fact is mentioned in illustration of what has been said?
What fixed law of the mind is stated ?
Which are the more permanent emotions or desires ?
To what are our emotions compared ?
What illustration is given of the strength and permanency of de-
sires ? ■
What additional characteristic of desires is mentioned ?
From what do they differ in this respect ?
In what do our emotions terminate ?
In what our desires ?
Give a reason for their fixedness, and illustrate.
Are our desires pleasant or painful ?
What other characteristic circumstance distinguishes them from
other mental states ?
23. With what does the enjoyment vary?
24. 307. Are all our desires equally strong ?
25. On what does their strength depend ?
26. On what does the strength of oar emotions depend?
27. 308. What other characteristic attribute of our desires is mentioned?
28. What does Hobbes term desire ?
29. Does it always tenninate in action?
30. What is necessary to tliis ?
31. Does the tendency exist if action does not follow desire ?
32. Does this tendency exist in other departments of the mind
33. What would man be with intellect alone ?
34. What with emotive sensibilities alone ?
35. How illustrated ?
36. In what exists the tendency to excite movement ?
37. The office of the will ?
38. 309. How are the desires modified ?
39. How classified?
I.
801.
2.
3.
4.
5.
302.
6.
7.
303.
8.
9.
in
lU.
11.
1 o
13.
304.
14.
15.
16.
305.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
306.
22.
QUESTIONS. 27
Qu Sect,
40. 310. "What two-fold action have all these principles, instincts excepted?
41. Why are instincts excepted ?
42. Why is it important to notice this two-fold action 7
CHAPTER IL
1. 311. What are instincts?
^. What is implied in the term instinctive ?
3. Are the instinctive tendencies of men or of brutes the most frequent
and effective ?
4. Why should they be ?
5. The proof that the instinct of the lower animals is strikingly adapt-
ed to the exigences of their situation?
6. 312. Mention a striking fact illustrative of the nature of the instinctive
principle.
7. Mention a remarkable fact in relation to bees.
8. Can you prove that this is instinct ?
9. 313. The first instance of instinct in man?
10. The second ?
11. The third ? and illustrate.
12. 314. The fourth ? and illustrate.
i3. The fifth ? and illustrate.
14. 315. The design of our instincts?
\5. What power predominates in man, and what in brutes?
CHAPTER IIL
1. 316. The prominent appetites ?
2. How do they differ from instincts ?
3. Their three characteristics ?
4. 317. The use of tlie appetites 1
5. Illustrate.
6. W^hat is said of the lower animals in this respect?
7. Why can not our appetites be called selfish ?
8. Are they ever strong enough to enslave us ?
9. What is remarked of one so enslaved ?
10. 319. Give an instance of an acquired appetite.
11. Explain the origin of such appetites.
12. The only way to avoid the forming of such habits?
13. 319. Explain the instinctive and the voluntary operation of the appetites.
J4. The basis of the morality of the appetites ?
15. In what do virtue and vice consist, considered in relation to the ap-
petites ?
CHAPTER IV.
1. 320. In what respect do the propensities differ from the^instincts t
2. And from the appetites ? _
3. Enumerate the propensities.
4. On what are they all founded? , .
5. 321. How is it shown that the desire of self-presenration u one of Oitf
propensities ?
6. W^hat is sometimes stronger than this ?
7. Can it ever be extinguished ?
%. 322. Its two-fold operation ? and ill^trate.
9. 323. Show that curiosity is one of onr propensities.
10. What class of works depends almost whoUy on curiosity for reao-
ers ?
11, 324. What is said of the deaf and dumb with reference to this propent-
ity?
28 QUESTIONS.
Qu. Sect. . .
\2. How was this shown in James Mitchell i
13. Repeat the poetry on this subject.
14. 325. Illustrate its two-fold operation.
15. How may it be stimulated or restrained ?
16. When is it virtuous, and when vicious ?
17. Illustrate with reference to the astronomer.
18. 326. Show that the propensity to imitation is natural.
19. How do children acquire the use of oral language ?
20. In what various ways do they manifest this propensity
21. 327. Is this principle one of utility?
22. Show how.
23. What practical inference may we deduce from this 7
24. 328. Show that the desire of esteem is natural to man.
25. Show that it is not confined to children.
26. Show that it is not founded on personal and interested considera-
tions.
27. Show that it operate^ strongly with reference to the future.
28. .129. Show that it is favorable to human happiness, and illustrate.
29. Sylla's remark of Julius Caesar?
30. By what is this desire checked ?
31. 330. Show that children very early form a notion of the relation of pos-
session.
32. 331. On what does the morality of this desire depend?
33. When is it morally right, and when wrong ?
34. What is remarked on the duty of this desire ?
35. By what Scripture is it enforced ?
36. 332. What is said of its ordinary action ?
37. Why is it usually inordinately strong?
38. What is covetousness ?
39. What is avarice ?
40. 333. What is power ?
41. How is this shown ?
42. How is it shown that the desire of power is natural to the mind?
and illustrate.
43. 334. In what cases is its exercise virtuous, and in what vicious ?
44. What is ambition ?
45. 335. To what actions does the desire of happiness lead us ?
46. 336. What is this desire called ?
47. • - How is it distinguished from selfishness ?
48. 337. Repeat Wardlaw's remark on self-love.
49. How do the Scriptures appeal to self-love ?
50. 338. Of what propensity has our desire for society been sometimes re-
garded as a modification ?
51. Show that it is not so.
52. How may this principle be perverted ?
53. 339. The first evidence of the existence of this principle ?
54. The second evidence of its existence ?
55. 340. How is the strength of it shown ?
56. Give two other illustrations of it.
57. 341. What strange notion of Hobbes is noticed ?
58. On what is civil society founded ?
59. Repeat tlie quotation from Cowper.
CHAPTER V.
1. 342. How are the affections distinguished from the other forms of omr
propensive nature ?
2. The relative ranks of our sensibilities ?
3. 343. How do the affections differ from the appetites and propensities 7
4. What does the tei-m affection denote ?
auESTioNs. 29
Qu. Sect
5. How are the affections divided ?
6. How are these two classes distinguished ?
7. What term is used as synonymous wth affection ?
8. 344. What is anger?
9. What modifications of it are mentioned?
10. 345. By what is anger occasioned ?
11. Show that it is instinctive, and illustrate.
12. 346. The design of the Creator in implanting tills principle in man?
13. Is instinctive resentment morally wrong?
1 4. The basis of morality ?
15. 347. How may we impart to instinctive resentment the character of a»
countability ?
16. The proper occasion of resentment?
17 What is injury ?
18 The final cause of instinctive resentment?
19. The final cause of voluntary resentment ?
20. How does it dispense its retribution ?
21. When is resentment right, and when wrong ?
22. 348. One of the chief causes of excessive resentment ?
23. The tliree checks to it ? •
24. What is remarked of the pain it occasions ?
25. What of its outward signs ?
2G. 349. The first consideration calculated to check it ?
27. The second ?
28. The third ?
29. The fouith ?
30. In what is the Christian code -distinguished from c^'eiy oQuot t
31. 350. How does peevishness differ from anger?
32. To what are both compared?
33. 351. What is envy, and what is remarked of it ?
34. How is it accounted for ?
35. 352. What is jealousy ?
36. How is it characterized ?
37. To what is its strength proportioned?
38. In whom is it most frequently found ?
39. What is remarked of it?
40. 353. What is revenge ?
41. How does it differ from resentment?
42. - Is it ever right ? ^
43. 354. How is fear occasioned ?
44. Why ranked among the malevolent affections ?
45. To what is its strength proportioned?
46. What is said of it when extreme ?
47. The danger of frightening others ?
48. What is despair?
CHAPTER VI.
1. 355. The basis of the malevolent affections 7
2. The basis of the benevolent ones ?
3. What is implied in the affection love ?
4. What are some of its modifications ?
5. What are some of the different kinds of it ?
^. 356. The two-fold action by which it is characterized t
7. Is parental affection voluntary^r implanted ?
8. The first consideration in support of this view 1
9. The second ?
10. The third ?
11. The fourth? '
12. 357. The fifth ?
%0 aUESTIONS.
Qu. Sect.
13. 358. Mention a fact illustrative of this.
14. 359. How does filial affection differ from parental?
15. Show the wisdom of the Creator in this.
16. 360. The first proof that filial affection is implanted ?
17. Illustrate this remark.
18. The second proof of this fact ?
19. The penalty which nature has attached to a want of filial affection ?
SO. -'■ What other considerations might be adduced in evidence of the same
fact?
21. 361. An illustration of filial affection.
22. " An illustration of parental love.
23. 362. How has fraternal affection been accounted for ?
24. What one fact shows that this explanation is an insufficient one ?
25. 363. Show the wisdpm of the Creator as manifested in the domestic af-
fections.
26. What strange notion of Plato is mentioned?
27. Show that the reverse is the fact.
28. 364. Do these affections possess a moral character?
29. The common opinion, and the reasons for it ?
30. Show the error of it, and illustrate.
31. 365. When are these affections vicious, and when virtuous ?
32. 366. What is essential to the highest and most ennobling form of benev-
olence ?
33. In what cases is it wrong to indulge a benevolent feeling toward
an individual ?
34. Give an account of Bishop Bartholomew las Casas.
35. How did his benevolence defeat its own intention ?
36. 367. Is man by nature indifferent to the welfare of others ?
37. Is he naturally an enemy to his brother man ?
38. What is philanthropy ?
39. What principle checks its exercise ?
40. How is it shown to be natural ?
41. Illustrate.
42. 368. A second argument in favor of this truth ?
43. How illustrated ?
44. Narrative of Mungo Park 1
45. 369. A third proof of this fact ?
46. Are such institutions confined to Christian countries ?
47. Mention other facts illustrative of this trath.
48. 370. A fourth proof of this fact?
49. Illustrate.
50. 371. What is patriotism ?
51. The manifest intention of nature on this subject?
52. Is patriotism a secondary or an origuial affection .
53. Show that there is no contrariety between patriotism and philan-
thropy.
54. Repeat the remark of Cowper.
55. 372. Of what is friendship a modification ?
56u How does it resemble the other benevolent affections ?
57. Is similarity of character requisite as the basis of friendship ?
58. What is essential?
59 373. How does pity differ from the other benevolent affections 1
60 Sentiment of Bishop Butler on this subject ?
61 The office of pity ?
62 374. Is this affection instinctive or voluntary?
63. The great advantage of its being so ?
64. When is its exercise right, and vice versa 7 and illustrate.
65. Why do we judge favorably of the pitiful?
66. 375. How is gratitude distinguished from the other benevolent affectiong?
67. What is essential to it T
QUESTIONS. 91
CHAPTER VII.
Qu. Sect
1. 376. What principle does the author suppose was originally implanted
in man?
2. The first argument in favor of this ?
3. 377. The second argument, drawn from the Scriptures 7
4. What is meant by man's being created in the image of Qodf and
the argument from this 7
5. 378. The third argument from texts of Scripture ?
6. The fourth argument from the new birth ?
7. 379. What fact is taught us by both philosophy and revelation ?
8. What facts prove that man is a fallen being ?
9 What principle should stand first in rank of those by which man il
governed ?
■10. How would this regulate all the others ?
11. 380, How is human depravity accounted for ?
12. 381. How is this illustrated?
13. Show how the obliteration of the principle of love to God would lead
to the enslaving of man to his appetites and passions
CHAPTER VIII.
1. 382. What simple fact does the term habit express ?
2. 383. What are appetitive habits ?
3. How are such habits acquired?
4. 384. What are propensive habits ? and illustrate.
5. 385. To what other affections does it apply ? and illustrate.
C. 386. What are secondary principles of action 7
7. Their orisrin ? and illustrate.
PART II.
CHAPTER I.
1. 387. How has the mind been divided 7
. 2. The place of the emotions ?
3. Through what departments must we pass to arrive at the will from
the emotions 7
4. Prove from Scripture the existence of conscience.
5. 388. Into what do the natural sensibilities resolve themselvea T
6. Into what the moral?
7. Why might it be supposed this subject would be dispatched in a
few words ?
8. "Why is it not 7
9. 389. How does the moral nature develop itself 7
10. How many kinds of moral emotions are there ?
11. By what names are they known 7
12. What is impHed in calling them original feelings ?
13. Why are they not susceptible of definition 7
14. How are they known to exist 7
15. 390. What position do moral erilbtions occupy with respect to acts of the
intellect 7
16. What other emotions occupy the same place ?
17 By what are the moral emotions immediately followed 7
If. What is implied in our being under obligations to do, or not to do,
any particular act ?
as ci:jbstion3.
Qu. Sect.
19. 391. In what cases are the moral emotions liable to change?
20. The necessity of this ?
21. 392. The appropriate objects of moral approval, etc.?
22. What are not such objects ?
23. With what is duty commensurate ?
CHAPTER II.
1. 393. With what have some confounded conscience t
2. Why is this a natural mistake?
3. 394. What is reasoning ?
4. The distinction between the reasoning power and the moral nature 1
5. The basis of moral action ?
6. 395. Illustrate this truth.
7. 396. Is conscience susceptible of being educated ?
8. Mention one form of moral education.
9. 397. Can a person who has acted conscientiously be considered guilty in
so acting?
10. In what does such guilt consist ?
11. The consequences of denying this doctrine?
12. Repeat the doctrine on this subject.
CHAPTER III.
1. 398. Into what two classes of feeling does conscience resolve itself?
2. 399. How do we ascertain the existence of feelings of moral obligation 1
3. Illustrate.
4. 400. In what other way, also, do we ascertain their existence ?
5. Illustrate.
6. 401. In what other way still is it shown ?
7. Mention some of the terms that prove their existence.
8. 402. What would be the state of society without this part of our consti-
tution ?
9. 403. The first characteristic mark of these feelings ?
10. 404. The second mark, etc.? and illustrate. .'
11. 405. The third mark, etc.?
12. What is meant by the terms enforcement, constraint, compulsion,
as applied to this feeling ?
13. The apostle's meaning in the passage, " The love of Christ constrain
eth me?"
14. 406. The first reason assigned for not classing feelings of obligation with
emotions ?
15. Illustrate.
16. 407. The second reason ?
17. What is said, in this connection, of moral emotions ?
18. 408. A third reason ? and illustrate.
19. What language shows the prevalence of the common belief on this
subject ?
20. 409. The first reason why feelings of moral obhgation are not classed
with desires ?
21. The second reason, etc. ?
22. 410. The third reason?
23. How do the mere moral emotions operate on the will?
24. Why have brute animals no moral character?
25. Why are they not accountable ?
aUESTIONS. 33
CHAPTER rV.
Qt Sect.
1 411. What two kinds of uniformity are there in the decisions of our moral
nature ?
2. The law on which uniformity in principle is founded ?
3. Are the dictates of unperverted conscience the same every where ?
4. 412. What objections have been urged against the doctrine of a connat-
ural conscience ?
5 What must be shown in order to meet this objection ?
C. The first remark on this subject ?
7. To what is conscience compared ? and point out the resemblance.
8. 413. The first reason assigned for the diversities of the decisions of con-
science ?
9. Illustrate this truth.
10. 414. The second reason ? and illustrate.
11. How is the thievishness of the Sandwich Islanders accoanted fori
12. Show that this is the true explanation.
13. 415. The third reason ? and illustrate.
14. What is said of the Rev. John Newton?
15. 416. How is persecution for religious opinions accoanted fort
16. 417. The fourth reason, etc.? and illustrate.
17. 418. The last reason for these diversities? and illustrate.
CHAPTER V.
1. 419. What is said of the importance of moral education?
2. W^hy has it been so much neglected ?
3. 420. What suggestion has been made on this subject?
4. Why is i^ entitled to no weight ?
5. What is necessary in order to prevent the contamination of vice T
6. 421. W^hat facts show the early development of the intellect ?
7. How early does the moral nature begin to develop ?
8. At what age is the moral character sometimes formed ?
9. 422. What discouragement often attends our efforts to improve the moral
character of the young ?
10. Why should we not be discouraged ?
11. What incident is mentioned illustrative of this subject?
12. 423. Why should we take pains to introduce into the mind correct spec-
ulative opinions ?
13. Illustrate the great importance of such opinions.
14 What is said of the doctrine that " Sincerity is every thing?"
15 424. What is essential to sound moral education 1
16 The office of conscience ?
17 How does conscience regard a want of love to the divine character T
18 The foundation of a moral life ?
PART III.
CHAPJ-ER I.
1 425. The subject of this chapter ?
2. 426. What is insanity ? ^ . . •
3. May the mind be disordered without being insane T
4! 427. The consequence of disordered appetites ?
5. Mention instances of such.
34 auESTiONS.
Qxi. Sect
6. Give an illustration of the power of appetite.
7. 428. How does tiie principle of self preservation show itself to be diaat'
dered ? and illustrate.
8. 429. How the possessory principle ? and illustrate.
J. 430. Examples of constitutional thieves ?
10. 431. Examples of constitutional mimics ?
il. 432. What is implied in the term alienation ?
12. What two kinds of alienation are mentioned?
13. In what two ways may an irregular action of the social principle
show itself?
14. 433. What is said of Foscari?
1 5. What is nostalgia ?
16. What is said of the Swiss ? and of the Russian army in A.D. 1733 T
17. How remedied?
18. 434. The effect of the desire of esteem on the character?
19. The effect when disordered ?
20 The ruling passion of Alcibiades ?
2i. The effect of the inordinate exercise of this propensity?
22. 435. The effect of the disordered action of the desire of power?
23. Mention the case recorded by Pinel.
CHAPTER IL
1. 436. What is sympathetic imitation? *
2. 437. The remark of Stewart ?
3. What facts illustrate its truth?
4. 438. Relate the occurrences at Haerlem.
5. 439. Relate those at Chelmsford, Mass.
CHAPTER III.
1. 440. What do you mean by presentiments ?
2. The case of Isaac Ambrose ?
3. The case of Mozart ?
4. The case of Pendergrast ?
5. The case of Henry IV. of France?
6. How may some cases be explained ?
7. Can all such be ?
8. 441. What other disordered condition of mind is mentioned? and illna-
trate.
9. The cases mentioned by Dr. Gale ?
10. Mention other cases.
11. 442. What is said of the insanity of the passions?
12. 443. What is hypochondriasis ?
13. To what may it sometimes be traced ?
14. Mention several cases of it.
15. That of the Englishman ?
16. 444. How is this disease characterized ?
17. The first step toward remedying it ?
J.8. The second step ?
19. The third step ?
20. Remark of Dr. Johnson ?
21. 445. How does the disordered action of the passion of fear show itself?
22. The distinctive trait of despair ?
23. 446. What strange fact is here mentioned '
24. Fact mentioned by Dr. Rush?
25. Second fact ?
26. Fact mentioned by Dr. Gall ?
27. Instances of death from joy ?
QUESTIONS. 86
CHAPTER IV.
In. Sect
1. 447. The two leading forms of moral derangement
2. Remark of Juvenal ? and explain it.
3. Repeat the poetry on this subject. h,
4. Can conscience die ? i
5. 448. May an individual sin in obeying conscience T
6. In what would such a sin consist ? illustrate.
7. 449. Can a man be bom without a conscience ?
8. Case mentioned by Dr. Haglam ?
9. 450. Are such persons accountable ?
10. Are meii, as subjects of moral government, to be treated alike ?
T3 57 6
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