LWRAftY HWEfcsfft cAvrfoftN* SAN DIKO THE HOLY FAMILY. A GLANCE PHILOSOPHY BOSTON: BRADBURY, SODEN & COMPANY. A GLANCE AT PHILOSOPHY, MENTAL, MORAL AND SOCIAL. BY THE AUTHOR OF PETER PARLEY'S TALES. BOSTON: BRADBURY, SODEN AND CO. MDCCCXLV. STEREOTYPED BY GEORGE A. CURTIS; NEW ENGLAND TYPE AND STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, BOSTON. PRINTED BY WM. A. HALL & CO. 141 Washington Street. CONTENTS. PHRENOLOGY, .7 The Principles of Phrenology, 9 The Primitive Faculties of Mind, connected with their Organs in the Brain, 16 Division or Classification of the Faculties, . . 18 ORDER I. OF FEELINGS, ..... 20 Amativeness, 20 Philoprogenitiveness, . ... 20 Inhabitiveness, 21 Adhesiveness, . .... 21 Combativeness, 22 Destructiveness, . 23 Alimentiveness, . ' 23 Love of Life, .' ~ 24 Secretiveness, .24 Acquisitiveness, . ..'.'. . . . 25 Constructiveness, 26 Self-Esteem, 27 Love of Approbation, . . . . . .27 Cautiousness, 28 Benevolence, . . . . .29 Veneration, 30 Firmness, . . . 30 Conscientiousness, . . - . . . . 31 Hope, . . 33 Wonder, 33 Ideality, 34 Imitation, 36 IV CONTENTS. ORDER II. INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES, . . .36 External Senses, . . . . . .''"". 37 Individuality, . 37 Form, . . . . . . '-*- . 38 Size, . . .-,.... 39 "Weight, 40 Coloring, , , .41 Locality, . . . . . . . . 42 Number, 42 Order, . 43 Eventuality, 44 Time, 45 Tune, 46 Language, jg& . . 47 Knowing Organs, . . . 'ffjf . . .47 Comparison, . . 49 Causality, . . 50 General Observations, 51 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY, V ' *. '. . . . .59 General View of the Faculties of the Mind, . . 61 Of the Sensitive Power, 62 Of the Retentive Powers, 63 Of the Associative Power, 66 Of the Motive Power, 67 Of the Memory, 70 Of the Imagination, 73 Of the Understanding, { 74 LOGIC, 79 Of Terms, and the Operations of the Mind, . . 79 Of Propositions, 82 Of Arguments, 83 Fallacies or Sophisms, 85 Induction, 88 Inference and Proof, 90 Verbal and Real Questions, 91 Demonstration, 93 Of Analogy, 94 CONTENTS. T Disposition or Method, .96 Concluding Remarks, 97 LANGUAGE, 98 Specimens of Languages, ...... Ill RHETORIC, 115 Periods, 130 Offences against Brevity and Energy, . . . 131 Digression, Transition and Amplification, . . . 1-33 Elegance, 134 Sublimity, . . . . . . . ,134 MORAL PHILOSOPHY, 136 Of Duty or Moral Obligation, 137 Of the Distinctions of Duty and Virtue, , .142 Man's Duty to Himself, 143 Duties toward Society, 144 Patriotism, 149 Duties of the American Citizen, .... 152 Duties toward God, 160 NATURAL THEOLOGY, . 166 A GOD proved from the Structure of Birds, . . 175 Other Proofs of a Deity, 178 Skill of the Creator proved from the Structure of Ani- mals, . . . 191 The Argument from the Peculiar Organization of cer- tain Animals, 194 The Argument from the Preparations beforehand for the Wants of Animals, 198 The Argument from the Means adopted to compen- sate for Defects in Animal Organization, . 201 The Argument from Adaptation and Relation to Ani- mate Nature, . . . . . . 204 The Argument from Instinct, 206 Benevolence of the Deity, 214 CHRISTIANITY, 220 Man an Immortal and Moral Being, . . .220 Mode of Testing the Authenticity of the Bible, . 232 Inspiration of the Old Testament, . . .242 VI CONTENTS. Prophecies Fulfilled, . . 248 Difficulties Answered, . . . . . 254 GOVERNMENT AND LAWS, -. ... . . . 259 Origin and History of Government, . . . 259 The Legislative Power, . .. ... . 269 The Judicial Power, 270 The Executive Power, 271 Forms of Government, ...... 273 Review of the Constitution of the United States, . 278 Congress, 280 The Administration, 281 The President, &c., 281 POLITICAL ECONOMY, 284 Of Production, . . . ## .288 Capital, . . ... . .""''. . . 288 Industry, . ....... . . .291 Exchange, 296 Distribution, 299 Of Wages, or the Price of Labor, . . . .299 Of the Price of Money or Interest, . . .299 Of the Price of Land or Bent, 310 EVERY-DAY PHILOSOPHY, 312 A GLANCE AT PHILOSOPHY, PHRENOLOGY. THIS system, which by its advocates is regarded as embracing the true philosophy of the mind, is not yet admitted among the class of acknowledged sciences. Its main doctrines are, however, generally regarded as true, and as the researches of its propagators have contributed to the accumulation of a large mass of accurate observations, it has doubtless been the occa- sion of advancing the cause of human knowledge. It may be also stated, that phrenology has furnished us with a technical language, applicable to the various powers and faculties of the mind, which is of great convenience, and enables us to discuss the subtle ques- tions of mental philosophy with greater precision and clearness. For these reasons, we propose to present our read- ers with an outline of phrenology, such as it is repre- sented to be by its proselytes,* leaving the reader to form his own conclusions as to its claims upon his belief. * This article is abridged from " Chambers' Information for the People," the author of which is a professed phrenologist of Edinburgh. 8 PHRENOLOGY. PHRENOLOGY is a Greek compound, signifying a discourse on the mind. The system which exclusively passes by this name, was founded by Dr. Francis Joseph Gall, a German physician, born in 1757. Dr. Gall was led, when a schoolboy, to surmise a con- nexion of particular mental faculties with particular parts of the brain, in consequence of observing a marked prominence in the eyes of a companion who always overmatched him in committing words to mem- ory. Finding the same conformation in others noted for the same talent, he reflected that it was possible that other talents might be accompanied by external marks, and that dispositions might also be so indi- cated. He devoted himself to observing marked fea- tures of character ; and on examining the heads, was struck with differences in their forms, there being prominences and hollows in some not found in others, with corresponding variations of character in the indi- viduals. After most extensive and accurate observa- tion, he first lectured on the subject in Vienna in 1796. There his lectures were suppressed by a jealous and ignorant despotism ; upon which he abandoned Ger- many and settled in Paris, where he practised as a physician, and studied and extended his " doctrine," as he always called it, till his death in 1828. Dr. Spurzheim, a native of Treves on the Moselle, and born in 1776, become the pupil, and from 1S04 was the associate, of Dr. Gall. Besides making many valuable discoveries in the anatomy and physiology of the brain, and ascertaining several organs in addition to those discovered by Dr. Gall, Dr. Spurzheim had the distinction of arranging the discoveries of both PHRENOLOGY. 9 into a harmonious system. Dr. Spurzheim died at Boston in the United States in 1832. Since then, the recognised head of the phrenological school has been Mr. George Combe of Edinburgh, author of many able and popular works on the science, and its most distinguished and successful teacher. The applications of phrenology to insanity, health and infant treatment, have been at the same time admirably made by his brother, Dr. Andrew Combe. THE PRINCIPLES OF PHRENOLOGY. The brain is the organ by and through which MIND manifests itself in this life. So far most philosophers agree. Indeed the proofs of this principle appear to be abundant. To all sane manifestations of mind, brain in healthy action is necessary. In sleep, fainting and com- pression of the brain, mind is suspended. In perfect sleep, the brain reposes, and mind ceases to be manifest- ed. Were it an immaterial spirit, acting independently of the brain, the repose of the material brain could not suspend the spirit's working. In fainting, the blood ceases for the time to supply the brain, and conscious- ness and motion are suspended. Pressure on the brain instantly suspends consciousness. The brain, when exposed, has been seen in action, during emotion, con- versation, dreams, &c. Sir Astley Cooper, referring to the case of a young man who had lost a portion of skull above the eyebrow, says, " I distinctly saw the pulsation of the brain ; it was regular and slow; but at this time he was agitated by some opposition to his wishes, and directly the blood was sent with increased force to the brain, and the pulsa- 10 PHRENOLOGY. tions became frequent and violent. If, therefore, you omit to keep the mind free from agitation, your other means (in the treatment of injuries of the brain) will be unavailing." Blumenbach saw a portion of exposed brain to sink in sleep, and swell when the patient awoke. Dr. Pierquin, and a writer in the Medico- Chirurgical Review, adduce other instances of the brain swelling out in waking hours, and still more in mental agitations. In these, such as pain, fear, anger, the dressings were disturbed, and the brain throbbed tumultuously. The cause is obvious : increased activ- ity of brain, as of muscle, is accompanied by increased flow of blood to the part. Dr. Pierquin cites a case which is instructive. His subject was a female, twenty- six years of age, who had lost a large portion of the skull and dura mater, so that a corresponding portion of the brain was laid bare. When she was in a dream- less sleep, her brain was motionless, and lay inside the cranium ; when her sleep was imperfect, her brain moved and protruded ; in vivid dreams, the protrusion was considerable ; and when awake, and particularly when engaged in conversation or mental action, it was still greater, and remained so while conversation lasted. Common feeling refers the mind to, or localizes it in, the head ; and common phrases are in accordance with this conviction. We have long-headed, shallow- paled, crack-brained, well furnished with brain. &cc. : as expressions in every one's mouth. From the above facts, phrenologists assume : 1st, As there is no vision or hearing without their respec- tive organs, the eye and ear, so there is no thinking or feeling, without their respective organs in the brain ; PHRENOLOGY. 11 2, Every mental affection must correspond with a cer- tain state of the organ, and tice versa ; 3d, The perfec- tion of the mind will have relation to the perfection of its organs. The study of the cerebral organs, therefore, is the study of the mind, in the only condition in which we can cognize it. The brain being the general organ of the mind, we come next to inquire whether it is all necessary to every act of feeling or thinking ; or wheAer it is di- vided into parts, each part being the instrument or or- gan of a particular mental act. 1st, It is a law of or- ganization that different functions are never performed by the same organ. The stomach, liver, heart, eyes, ears, have each a separate duty. Different nerves are necessary to motion, feeling and resistance, and there is no example of confusion amongst them. Analogy, therefore, is in favor of the conclusion that there are distinct organs for observing, reflecting and feeling kindness, resentment, self-love, &c. 2d, The mental powers do not all come at once, as they would, were the brain one indivisible organ. They appear succes- sively, and the brain undergoes a corresponding change. 3d, Genius varies in different individuals ; one has a turn, as it is called, for one thing, and another for something different. 4th, Dreaming is ex- plained by the doctrine of distinct organs which can act or rest alone. Its disjointed images and feelings could never occur if the brain acted as a whole. Un- divided, it must either all sleep or all wake ; so that there could be no such thing as dreaming. 5th, Partial in- sanity, or madness on one point, with sanity on every other, proves the distinction of organs, and their sepa- 12 PHRENOLOGY. rate action. 6th, Partial injuries of the brain, affect- ing the mental manifestations of the injured parts, but leaving the other faculties sound, prove distinctiveness of organs. 7th, There could be no such state of mind as the familiar one where our feelings contend, and antagonize and balance each other, if the brain were one organ. These are grounds for presuming that the brain is not unique, but a cluster of organs, or at least that it is capable of acting in parts as well as in whole. For this conclusion, the phrenologists have found satisfac- tory proofs in repeated observations, showing that par- ticular manifestations of mind are proportioned, in intensity and frequency of recurrence, to the size or expansion of particular parts of the brain, and are thus to be presumed to depend on those parts. It is con- sidered by them as a settled point, that the brain con- sists of a congeries of organs. It is a necessary result of the same investigations, and one of the most impor- tant doctrines of phrenology, that the power of each organ, in other words, its degree of mental manifesta- tion, is in direct proportion to its size. This is a law everywhere seen affecting organic nature ; a large muscle, the conditions of health, quality, and outward circumstances, being the same, has more power than a small one. The same rs true of a nerve. Dogs have very large nerves for smelling, eagles for seeing, &c. A child's brain is smaller, and its mental power weaker, than those of an adult. A very small brain in an adult is the invariable cause of idiocy. Dr. Gall observed that a head not measuring more in horizontal circumference than fourteen inches, is always idiotic. PHRENOLOGY. 13 A large head may be idiotic from cerebral disease, but a very small head, from defect of size alone, is always idiotic. Men of great force of character, such as Na- poleon, Franklin, Burns, had all brains of unusually large size. Powerful energetic nations exceed weaker ones in size of head, and invariably, when brought into collis- ion with them, overcome them. The Gothic or Teu- tonic head is larger than the Celtic, which last race first occupied Europe, but was driven by the Gothic into the mountainous regions, where it was not worth the pains to follow it. The average European head is to the average Hindoo as the head of a man to that of a boy ; and hence the conquest and subjection of a hundred millions of the latter by thirty thousand of the former. Indeed, the doctrine of size of brain accom- panying power of character, is now generally admitted by the opponents of phrenology. The general law, then, being that size of organ is accompanied by power of manifestation, we proceed to inquire, secondly, if there are any circumstances, and what these are, which modify this law. It will be found that quality of brain is a modifying circum- stance, also health of brain, and exercise of brain. 1. Phrenologists conjectured that different brains differ in quality, but were long without any indications of these differences. The doctrine of the Temper- aments has thrown considerable, though not perfect light on this point, and for this we are indebted to Dr. Thomas of Paris. There are four temperaments, ac- companied with different degrees of power and activity, in other words, quality of brain. These are the bilious, 14 PHRENOLOGY. the nervous, the sanguine, and the lymphatic. These temperaments were observed and distinguished long before the discovery of phrenology, though to little purpose. The nervous temperament is marked by silky thin hair, thin skin, small thin muscles, quick muscular motion, paleness, and often delicate health. The whole nervous system, brain included, is active, and the mental manifestations vivacious. It is the temper- ament of genius and refinement. The bilious has black, hard and wiry hair, dark or black eyes, dark skin, moderate fullness, but much firmness, of flesh, with a harsh outline of countenance and person. The bilious temperament gives much energy of brain and mental manifestation, and the countenance is marked and decided ; this is the temperament for enduring much mental as well as bodily labor. The sanguine temperament has well-defined forms, moderate plump- ness and firmness of flesh, light or red hair, blue eyes, and fair and often ruddy countenance. It is accom- panied with great activity of the blood-vessels, an ani- mated countenance, and a love of out-door exercises. With a mixture of the bilious for in most individuals the temperaments are mixed, often all four occurring in one person it would give the soldier's temper- ament. The brain is active. The lymphatic temper- ament is indicated by a round form, as in the fat and corpulent, soft flesh, full cellular tissue, fair hair and pale skin. The vital action is languid, the circulation weak and slow. The brain also is slow and feeble in its action, and the mental manifestations correspond. 2. The brain must be in a sound, healthy condition. PHKEXOLOGT. 15 to manifest itself properly in the mental faculties. In judging of character the phrenologist must inquire into this circumstance, as the external development does not reveal it. 3. Exercise or whether or not, and how, the brain has been exercised is another condition to be inquir- ed into before judging of two individuals similarly or- ganized. The brain which has been the more, and more judiciously, exercised, will manifest the greater degree of activity and power. The law of exercise is of universal application to animals, if not to organiza- tion in general. A muscle or nerve is strengthened by exercise ; and a tree or plant by the motion given it by the wind. Over-exercise injures the brain. It is only another mode of inquiring into the circumstance of exercise of brain, when a phrenologist asks what opportunities of education an individual has enjoyed, and to what kind of society he has been accustomed. To this information he is entitled in judging of char- acter, for the head alone will not reveal it. If size of organ implies vigor of function, it is of great moment in what region of the brain the organs are largest whether in the animal, moral or intellec- tual. On this preponderance depends the character. Two brains may be exactly alike in size, generally, yet the characters may be perfect contrasts to each other. If the organs predominate in the moral region, the leading manifestations will probably be of a vir- tuous character ; if in the intellectual, talent will be the probable consequence ; if in the animal, there will be tendencies accordingly. 16 PHRENOLOGY. THE PRIMITIVE FACULTIES OF MIND, AS CONNECTED WITH THEIR ORGANS IN THE BRAIN. Mind, which was considered by the metaphysicians as a single thing or essence, was said by them to be capable of being in different states, in each of which states it made one of its various manifestations, as memory, judgment, anger, &c. In no particular does the phrenological hypothesis differ more from the metaphysical than in this. The phrenological doctrine is, that the brain, the organ of the mind, is divided into various faculties, each of which has its own modes of acting. It is held First, That by accurate observation of human ac- tions, it is possible to discriminate the dispositions and intellectual power of man, such as love, anger, benev- olence, observation, reflection, &c. Secondly, That the true form of the brain can be ascertained from the external form of the head ; the brain, though the softer substance, being what rules the shape of the skull, just as the shell takes its form from the animal within. Thirdly, The organs or parts into which the brain is divided, all of which organs are possessed by every individual except in the case of idiocy, appear on the brain's surface in folds or convolutions, somewhat like the bowels or viscera of an animal, but have a well- ascertained fibrous connection through the whole sub- stance of the brain with one point at its base, called the medulla oblongata, which unites the brain to the spinal cord. The organs have thus each a conical form from the medulla oblongata to the surface ; the whole being not inaptly compared to the stalks and flower of a cauliflower. PHRENOLOGY. 17 Fourthly, The brain is divided into two equal parts called hemispheres; on each side of the fosse or division between these hemispheres the same organ occurs ; all the organs are therefore double, in analogy with the eyes, ears, &c. But when the term organ is used, both organs are meant. The organs which are situated close to the middle line vertically drawn on the head, though close to each other, are nevertheless double ; for example, Individuality, Benevolence, Firmness, &c. Fifthly, Besides the brain proper, their is a smaller brain, attached to the hinder part of the base of the brain, called the cerebellum. Sixthly, The brain, including the cerebellum, is di- vided into the anterior, middle and posterior lobes. The cerebellum forms a part of the posterior lobe. The anterior lobe contains all the intellectual faculties ; the posterior and lower range of the middle lobe are the regions of the animal propensities ; while the moral sentiments are found, with a sort of local preeminence, to have their organs developed on the top or coronal surface of the head. The gradation in size of the organs is thus denoted : Very Small. Small. Rather Small Moderate. Rather Full. Full. Rather Large. Large. Very Large. We have said, the larger the brain, and of course the head, the more the power. The old adage, " Big head, little wit" is often true, but not always. It is true when, with a large brain there is a lymphatic tempera- ment, or when some damaging or deranging circum- stance has taken place, to deprive the brain of its nat- ural power, or when the largeness is not in the intel- lectual region. It is to be remarked, however, that even B 18 PHRENOLOGY. large animal brains have great animal power, in spite of their intellectual deficiency. A moderate-sized head, of which the brain is chiefly in the anterior or intellectual region, will have much more wit or clever- ness than the other. Its power will be intellectual. DIVISION OR CLASSIFICATION OF THE FACULTIES. The faculties have been divided by Gall and Spurz- heim into two great orders FEELING and INTELLECT, or AFFECTIVE and INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. The Feelings are divided into two genera the Propen- sities and the Sentiments. By a propensity is meant an internal impulse, which incites to a certain action, and no more ; by a sentiment, a feeling which, although it has inclination, has also an emotion super- added. The second order of faculties, the Intellectual, also suffers division into the Perceptive or Knowing, and the Reflective Faculties. The Perceptive Faculties are again divided into three genera 1st, the Exter- nal Senses and Voluntary Motion; 2d, the Internal Poivers tvhich perceive existence, or make man and animals acquainted with external objects and their physical qualities ; and, 3d, the Powers which per- ceive the relations of external objects. The fourth genus comprises the Reflective Faculties, which act on all the other powers ; in other words, compare, dis- criminate and judge. The following is a representation of a bust of the human head in four points of view front, side, back and top with the organs marked by numbers ; and there follows a table of the names of the organs synop- tically given, before we proceed to describe each faculty as related to its organ. PHRENOLOGY. 19 AFFECTIVE. I. PROPENSITIES. 1. Amativeness. 2. Philoprogenitiveness. 3. Inhabit! veness and Con- centrativeness. 4. Adhesiveness. 5. Combativeness. 6. Destructiveness. [Alimentiveness.] [Love of Life.] 7. Secretiveness. 8. Acquisitiveness. 9. Constructiveness. II. SENTIMETTTS. 10. Self-Esteem. 11. Love of Approbation. 12. Cautiousness. 13. Benevolence. 14. Veneration. 15. Firmness. 16. Conscientiousness. 17. Hope. 18. Wonder. 19. Ideality. 20. Wit, or Ludicrousness. 21. Imitation. PHRENOLOGY. INTELLECTUAL. I. PERCEPTIVE. 22. Individuality. 23. Form. 24. Size. 25. Weight. 26. Coloring. 27. Locality. 28. Number. 29. Order. 30. Eventuality. 31. Tune. 32. Time. 33. Language. II. REFLECTIVE. 34. Comparison. 35. Causality. ORDER FIRST. FEELINGS. GENUS I. PROPENSITIES. The propensities are common to man and the lower animals ; they neither perceive nor reason, but only feel. No. 1. Amativeness. This organ marked No. 1 on the bust is situated immediately over the nape of the neck, and fills up the space between the ears behind, or rather between the mastoid processes, or projecting bones behind the ears. It generally forms a projection in that part, and gives a thickness to the neck when it is large, and a spareness when small. The cerebellum, or little brain, is or at least contains the organ of this propen- sity. No. 2. Philoprogenitiveness. This, in man as well as animals, is the feeling of the love of offspring. It depends on no other faculty, as reason or benevolence ; it is primitive ; and in the mother, who, for wise reasons, is gifted with it most strongly, its object, the infant, instantly rouses it to a high state of excitement. The feeling gives a tender PHRENOLOGY. 21 sympathy generally with weakness and helplessness ; and we find it often returned by the young themselves to the old and feeble. It is essential to a soft kind at- tendant on the sick, to a nurse or nursery-maid, and to a teacher of youth. It induces women to make pets of small and gentle animals, when tyrant circum- stances have kept them single, and denied them off- spring of their own. Its feelings are, by a kind Prov- idence, rendered so delightful, that they are extremely apt to be carried the length of excess ; and spoiling and pampering children, into vicious selfishness, is sometimes the ruinous consequence. No. 3. Inhabitiveness Concentrativeness. This organ is situated immediately above the pre- ceding. It prompts men to settle instead of roaming, which latter habit is inconsistent with agriculture, commerce and civilization ; nostalgia, or home-sick- ness, is the disease of this feeling. No. 4. Adhesiveness. This organ attaches men, and even animals, to each other, and is the foundation of that pleasure which we feel, not only in bestowing, but receiving friendship. It is the only faculty which prompts the embrace and the shake by the hand, and gives the joy of being re- united to friends. Acting in conjunction with Ama- tiveness, it gives constancy and duration to the attach- ment of the married. Amativeness alone will not be found sufficient for this. Hence the frequent misery of sudden love-marriages, as they are called, founded on that single impulse. The feeling attaches many persons to pets, such as birds, dogs, rabbits, horses, iSS PHRENOLOGY. and other animals, especially when combined with Philoprogenitiveness. With this combination, the girl lavishes caresses on her doll and on her little com- panions. Added to Nos. 1, 2 and 3, with which it is in immediate contact and ascertained fibrous connection in the brain, it completes what has been called the do- mestic group of organs, or the love of spouse, children, home, and the friends of home, as brothers, sisters, cousins, &c. These domestic feelings bind the dwell- ers under the same roof to each other faster than chains of brass. The finger of God is here, benev- olently, effectually, beautifully ; for he has made the bond not irksome, but exquisitely delightful. Some of our ballads express Adhesiveness with much beauty. " John Anderson, my jo," and " There 's nae luck about the house when our gudeman 's awa'," are most touching examples. The feeling is strongest in wo- man. Her friendships, generally speaking, are more ardent than man's. The faculty is not kindness or benevolence ; it is instinctive attachment, often felt by those who are selfish in everything else selfish even in their attachments. It is the faculty which prompts man to live in society ; and its existence overturns the absurd theory of Rousseau and some others, that man is solitary, and that mutual interest alone brings men to congregate with their fellow-men. No. 5 Combativeness. The organ of this propensity extends its functions to contention in general, whether physical or moral. The condition of the physical world, full of difficulties and dangers, seems in itself to make it necessary that man should possess a faculty giving the impulse to PHRENOLOGY. 23 meet boldly, and press vigorously through, such im- pediments. In the mingled scene, also, which forms the moral world, such an impulse is not less needed. It is easy, therefore, to reconcile with our ideas of di- vine wisdom and goodness the existence of this vehe- ment quality of our nature, the true intent of which is expressed in the well-known adage of the bard " Do not give way to evils, but go the more daringly against them." No. 6. Destructiveness. This organ is generally considered as giving the impulse to kill and destroy ; but, in man, this propen- sity is shown to have, under the control of the higher sentiments and intellect, a legitimate sphere of exer- cise. Those roughnesses and difficulties in the phys- ical world which have been shown to call for the exer- cise of combativeness, that man may not sink under them, also appear to call for a faculty which may prompt to the destroying or repressing of them, so that the way may be cleared for the future. The annoy- ances and troubles of the moral world call in like manner for a faculty which may be always endeavor- ing to put an end to them. Alimentiveness, or Appetite for Food. Alimentiveness is the desire of, or appetite for, food. In this feeling as such the stomach is not concerned ; its functions are strictly confined to the reception and digestion of our food. But, that the mind is concerned in our desire of food, is proved by many circumstances. This desire often continues after the stomach is over- loaded ; it often prompts to a fullness and frequency of feeding, which must be in the highest degree incon- 24 PHRENOLOGY. venient to the digesting organ. The nausea created in the sick by the idea of food the rush of saliva to the mouth of the gourmand, on hearing a description of rich dishes must alike be the effect of mental emo- tions. Love of Life. The self-preservation involved in the love of life is certainly not accounted for by any known organ or combination of organs. Cautiousness is fear of injury, fear of death ; but it is not love of life. This feeling is powerfully manifested by some when their life is in no danger, but who look upon the close of life as a very great evil. Others are so indifferent on the sub- ject as scarcely to care whether they live or die, but for the disagreeable effect the contemplation of death has upon their other faculties such as leaving chil- dren unprovided, &c. The French phrenologists think they have discovered the organ immediately above the sphenoid bone ; but their facts are too few and uncertain to be proceeded upon with confidence. No. 7. Secretiveness. The legitimate use of this faculty is to exercise that control over the outward manifestation of the other faculties, which is necessary to a prudent reserve. Without it, and of course in those in whom the organ is small and the manifestation weak, the feelings ex- press themselves too openly. Such individuals " wear their hearts upon their sleeves, for daws to peck at." They are too open and unsuspecting, and often all good taste and propriety are lost sight of by them, in the exposure of their feelings. Society would be in- supportable were there no secretiveness. There is an PHRENOLOGY. ZO amusing fairy tale called the Palace of Truth, design- ed to show how truly this is the case. We may con- sider secretiveness as an instinct to conceal the feelings or thoughts, till reason shows it to be prudent to declare them. In abuse, this faculty leads to lying, hypocrisy and fraud. When acting with Acquisitiveness, it forms the thief, cheat and swindler. The organ is almost always found large in these persons; and they have been known to say that they have great pleasure in the se- cretive part of their profession. All ruses and strata- gems are exercises of secretiveness. The faculty, in combination with the Love of Approbation, occasions much of the hypocritical insincerity of civilized so- ciety. We are indebted to Mr. Richard Carmichael of Dublin for a report of the singular case of Anne Ross. This girl, to gain the favor and charity of some pious ladies, thrust needles into her arm to produce disease, and went the length of submitting to amputation with- out revealing the truth. On dissecting the arm the needles were found, a circumstance which appeared to distress her much more than the loss of her arm. Mr. Combe saw this extraordinary girl in Dublin, and found both Secretiveness and Firmness large in her head. No. 8. Acquisitiveness. This faculty, the love of acquiring, even beyond what is immediately necessary or useful, could not be given to man for a mean, grovelling and immoral use ; accord- ingly, when we consider it aright, we recognize in it an 26 PHRENOLOGY. organ of the greatest importance. In a word, it is the faculty through whose impulse man accumulates cap- ital, and nations are rendered rich, great and powerful. Without the faculty, man would be content to satisfy his daily wants, although even in this he would fail ; but the surplus which, under the impulse of this faculty, he contributes to the store of wealth which accumu- lates from generation to generation, would not exist. Under proper regulation, then, the faculty is of the greatest value to man ; by means of it he " gathers up the fragments, that nothing may be lost." Excessive pursuit of wealth is, however, an abuse of this faculty, and too much the vice of civilization, when it advances, as it has sometimes done, without adequate moral im- provement. The faculty is often diseased, so that those who are insane in this organ, without any temptation arising from their circumstances, which are often above want, and even prosperous, pilfer everything of value, or of no value, which comes in their way. Many in- corrigible thieves in lower life, on whom the punish- ments of the law fail to have any effect, are diseased in this organ. No. 9. Construct! veness. The faculty of which this organ is the instrument, is the power of mechanically making, constructing and fashioning, by changing the forms of matter. Many of the inferior animals possess it ; as the bee, the bea- ver, birds and insects. Some savages have it in such small endowment as never to have built huts or made clothes, or even the simplest instruments for catching PHRENOLOGY. 27 fish. Such are the New Hollanders, in whom the or- gan appears very slightly developed. Drs. Gall and Spurzheim verified this organ by a vast number of instances- in mechanicians, architects, designers, sculptors, and even painters. GENUS II. SENTIMENTS. I. SENTIMENTS COMMON TO MAN AND THE LOWEE ANIMALS. No. 10. Self-Esteem. The legitimate use of the faculty of Self-Esteem, or Self-Love, is that degree of self-complacency which enhances the pleasures of life, and which gives the in- dividual confidence in his own powers, and leads him to apply them to the best advantage. It is sometimes called proper pride, or self-respect, in which form it aids the moral sentiments in resisting temptations to vice and self-degradation : this is called being above doing a criminal, a vicious, or a mean action. Its de- ficiency renders an individual too humble, and the world take him at his word, and push him aside. In large and uncontrolled endowment, it produces great abuses, and causes much annoyance and often misery to others. It is the quarrelling, insulting, domineer- ing, tyrannizing, duelling faculty. In children it is pettishness, frowardness and self-will, and produces disobedience. In adults, it gives arrogance, super- ciliousness and selfishness. In nations, the feeling shows itself in national pride and boasting. No. 11. Love of Approbation. This is the desire of approbation, admiration, praise and fame. Its legitimate function is regard to reputa- 28 PHRENOLOGY. tion and character, and it gives the sentiment of shame. It is an excellent guard upon morals as well as man- ners. The loss of character to those largely endowed with this feeling, is worse than death. If the moral sentiments be strong, this sentiment will desire honest fame, and in the line, too, of the prevailing faculties as poet, painter, orator, warrior, statesman. The love of glory is a passion with many, and has deluged the world with blood in all ages. The decorations, orders, stars, garters, of civilization, and the tattooing, nose- boring and pluming, of savage life, all spring from Love of Approbation. When the propensities predominate, the vain man will be pleased to be thought the best fighter or greatest drinker among his acquaintance. A due endowment of this faculty is essential to an amiable character. No. 12. Cautiousness. This organ stimulates the intellect to take the means of ensuring safety : its motto is, " Take care." It is an important element in prudence, which places the individual on his guard, and warns him not to be rash in his moral as well as his physical movements. In general, the organ is large in children, a wise and be- nificent provision for their protection. Children who are deficient in the organ suffer constant mishaps and accidents; twenty keepers will not supply to them the place of the instinctive protection of Cautiousness. II. SUPERIOR SENTIMENTS, PROPER TO MAN. We have hitherto considered the faculties which phrenologists describe as common to man and the lower PHRENOLOGY. 29 animals ; we are now to treat of those superior senti- ments which they consider as peculiar to man. The organs of these sentiments lie in the superior region of the brain. No. 13. Benevolence. The faculty of Benevolence gives more than com- passion for, and a desire to relieve, suffering ; it gives a wish that others should be positively happy ; prompts to active, laborious and continued exertions ; and, unless Acquisitiveness be very large and powerful, to liberal giving to promote its favorite object. It differs essentially in its charity, " which suffereth long and is kind," " and vaunteth not itself," from that which springs from Love of Approbation. Yet to this last selfish faculty, how often is it necessary to appeal when funds are wanted for benevolent purposes ! Hence the published lists of subscribers' names ; hence, too, the appeals to other selfish faculties by balls, fairs, &c., for contributions to relieve suffering, as if it were to be charmed away by dancing and music. The Samaritan's conduct was pure benevolence. Addison pourtrayed the feeling well in Sir Roger de Coverley. All the phrenological books cite the case of Eustache, a St. Domingo negro, who was so strik- ing an example of this faculty in great power and ac- tivity that he received the prize of virtue from the French Institute. The organ in him was so large as to give an uncommon height to the front of his head. The faculty, like sunshine, lights as well as warms the whole of social intercourse. 30 PHRENOLOGY. No. 14. Veneration. The organ of this faculty occupies the centre of the coronal region just at the fontanel the centre of the top of the head. It was discovered by Dr. Gall in the pious and devout ; and is very obvious in the bald head of the monk of real sentiment and not of mere interest. The function of the faculty is the sentiment of veneration, or deference in general for superiority, for greatness and goodness. Its highest object is the Deity. It is remarkable in how many instances the painters of sacred subjects have given large develop- ment of this organ in the heads of their apostles and saints no doubt, because the pious individuals whom they would naturally select as studies for such char- acters, possessed the organ large. Veneration has no special object : it finds appropriate exercise with re- gard to whatever is deemed superior. No. 15. Firmness. The organ of this faculty occupies the top of the head, behind Veneration, in the middle line. It is a faculty of peculiar character. Dr. Gall held that it was neither an inclination nor a power, but a maniere d'etre a mode of existing, or being firm, resolute and determined. He who is deficient in the faculty is the sport of circumstances and impressions. Dr. Spurz- heitn says that Firmness is apt to be mistaken for Will, because those that have the organ large are prone to say, " I will," and " I won't," that being the natural language of determination ; but the feeling is quite different from what is properly called the Will. It gives fortitude, constancy, perseverance and deter- PHRENOLOGY. 31 mination : and when too powerful, it produces obsti- nacy, stubbornness and infatuation. The organ will be found large in obstinate and intractable children. Firmness has no relation to external objects ; its influ- ence is within the mind, and adds a quality of endur- ance to each or all of the other faculties. For exam- ple, it renders Combativeness determined bravery ; Conscientiousness inflexible integrity, and so with the others. With Self-Esteem, it renders the individual absolutely impracticable. The want of it is a great defect in character ; it is unsteadiness of purpose. No. 16. Conscientiousness. The organ of this sentiment is situated on each side of the organ of Firmness, between the latter organ and that of Cautiousness. Dr. Spurzheim discovered the organ, and thereby incalculably benefited mental and moral science. Previously, metaphysicians differed in opinion as to the existence of a moral sense a primi- tive instinctive feeling of truth and justice. Hobbes and Mandeville held justice to be mere selfish calcula- tion. Even Paley considered it as influenced by the hope of eternal reward, and therefore no better than a selfish calculation. Adam Smith placed the standard of moral approbation in sympathy, Hume in utility, Clarke in the fitness of things'; while Hutcheson, Cud- worth, Kames, Reid, Stewart and Brown, all, contend for a faculty which produces the sentiment of right and wrong, independently of all other considerations. Mr. Combe says that these conflicting theories will serve ",to convey some idea of the boon which phre- nology would confer upon moral science, if it could fix 32 PHRENOLOGY. on a firm basis this single point in the philosophy of mind that a power or faculty exists, the object of which is to produce the sentiment of justice or the feeling of duty and obligation, independently of selfish- ness in any form, hope of reward, fear of punishment, or any extrinsic motive ; a faculty, in short, the natu- ral language of which is, ' Fiat justitia mat ccelum.' Phrenology does this by a demonstration founded on numerous observations, that those persons who have the organ now under consideration large, experience powerfully the sentiment of justice ; while those who have that part of the brain small, are little alive to the emotion." Conscientiousness gives the emotion of justice, but intellect is necessary to show on which side justice lies. The judge must hear both sides before deciding, and his very wish to be just will prompt him to do so. This faculty regulates all the other faculties by its rigid rules. It says to them, " thus far and no farther, or you will do injustice." Benevolence and Veneration themselves require its guardianship, to prevent the one from running into generosity without justice, the other into bigotry, fanaticism and persecution. Conscien- tiousness not only curbs our faculties when too power- ful, but stimulates those that are too weak and prompts us to duty even against strorg inclinations. To cul- tivate it in children is most important. No organiza- tion, however favorable, compensates a want here ; yet phrenologists are forced to confess that it is not the largest organ in the great majority of brains, and hence the injustice that is, silently as well as openly, at work in society. PHRENOLOGY. No. 17. Hope. Dr. Spurzheim considered Hope a faculty sui gen- eris, producing hope, in general, of good, or gratifica- tion to the other faculties ; and, by careful observation in nature, found the organ in the situation marked in the engraving. It seems to have been given to man to make him happy. It produces gaiety and cheerfulness, looks on the sunny side of everything, and paints the future with bright colors. When not regulated by the intellect, Hope leads to rash speculation, and, in com- bination with Acquisitiveness, to gambling, both at the gaming-table and in the counting-house. It tends to render the individual credulous, and often indolent. In religion, Hope leads to faith, and strongly disposes to belief in a happy life to come. No. 18. Wonder. The organ of this faculty is situated on each side of that of Benevolence, with one other organ, that of Imitation, interposed. Technically, it has its place in the lateral parts of the anterior region of the vertex. Dr. Gall discovered it by observing it large in the seers of visions and dreamers of dreams, and in those who loved the marvellous. Socrates, Tasso, Joan of Arc and Swedenborg, were examples. The two first be- lieved they were attended by a familiar spirit. Swe- denborg believed and declared that he was admitted to the presence of God in heaven, to receive a revelation of the true religion. Joan of Arc related that she saw St. Michael, and received from him her commission to raise the siege of Orleans, and enthrone Charles VII. as king. There are many other examples in the phre- c ' 34 PHRENOLOGY. nological books. In modern times, Joan of Arc would have been held to be a fanatic. Persons with the faculty powerful are fond of news, especially if striking and wonderful, and are always expressing astonishment ; their reading is much in the regions of the marvellous, tales of wonder, of enchant- ers, ghosts and witches. When the sentiment is ex- cessive or diseased, it produces that peculiar fanaticism which attempts miracles, and with Language active, speaks with unknown tongues. It draws the ignorant and fanatically-inclined, who have the organ large, with ease by its pretensions ; hence the numerous fol- lowers of Johanna Southcote, Courtenay or Thorn, and Edward Irving. No. 19. Ideality. Dr. Gall called this the organ of Poetry. Dr. Spurz- heim corrected this, and gave it the elegant name it now bears ; which has, as well as others of the expres- sive names of the phrenological organs, been adopted into ordinary language. He says " It is impossible that poetry in general should be confined to one single organ, and. I therefore think that the name ' Organ of Poetry,' does not indicate the essential faculty. In every kind of poetry the sentiments are exalted, the expressions warm ; and there must be rapture, inspi- ration, and what is commonly called imagination or fancy." The faculty delights in the perfect, the exquisite, the lean-ideal something beyond the scenes of reality something in the regions of romance and fancy of the beautiful and the sublime. Those writers and PHRENOLOGY. 35 speakers who possess it large, adorn all they say or write with its vivid inspirations. It is the organ of imagery. The sermons of Chalmers owe much of their charms to it, and the organ is very large in his head. Shakspeare created such beings as Ariel, Ob- eron, and all the imaginings of the " Tempest," and " Midsummer Night's Dream," under its influence. Prospero's speech, when he abjures the art of magic and breaks his staff, is unequalled as a specimen of Ideality. The passage is well known "I have bedimined The noontide sun, called forth the furious winds, And 'twiit the green sea and the azure vault Set roaring war," &c. The faculty renders conversatiou elevated, animated and eloquent, the opposite of dry and dull. No. 20. Wit, or the Ludicrous. The phrenological writers have discussed at great length, and with not a little controversy, the metaphys- ical nature or analysis of this faculty. We do not need to follow them into this inquiry, as most of them are agreed that, by means of this faculty, we see and enjoy the ludicrous, and experience the emotion of laughter. Man is the only laughing animal, and the impulse and its result are too well marked character- istics not to be the manifestations of a special faculty. Dr. Beattie's theory is the most satisfactory of any that the objects of the ludicrous are incongruities, with a certain mixture of congruity. When the butcher put his wig on his dog's head in the pit of the theatre, that he might wipe his heated brow, Garrick was so 36 PHRENOLOGY. tickled with the incongruity, mixed, be it observed, with the congruity of a wig belonging to a head, that he ran off the stage to conceal his laughter. When this organ is large, the individual both enjoys and creates the ludicrous, and is apt to give a ludicrous turn to everything that passes through his mind. No. 21. Imitation. This organ is situated on each side of that of Be- nevolence. Dr. Gall found the protuberance accom- panied by instinctive and often irrepressible mimicry. A deaf and dumb boy had this power quite uncon- sciously. ORDER SECOND. INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES. By these faculties man and animals perceive or gain knowledge of the external world, and likewise of their own mental operations. The object of the faculties is to know what exists, and to perceive qualities and re- lations. Dr. Spurzheim divided them into three gen- era: 1. The External Senses; 2. The Internal Senses, or Perceptive Faculties, which procure knowledge of external objects, their physical qualities and relations ; 3. The Reflecting Faculties. From the great length to which our observations on the Feelings have extended, and from the more meta- physical nature of the analysis of the Intellectual Pow- ers, we must be more brief in our exposition of them referring to the phrenological books for a fuller treatment of this branch of the subject. PHRENOLOGY. 37 - GENUS I. EXTERNAL SENSES. By these, man and the inferior animals are brought into communication with the external material world. These, as generally received, are five in number Touch, Taste, Smell, Hearing and Sight. It has been suggested that there are two more, namely, the sense of Hunger and Thirst, and the Muscular sense, or that by which we feel the state of our muscles as acted upon by gravitation and the resistance of matter. Ii is argued that without this last sense we could not keep our balance, or suit our movements to the laws of the mechanical world. Dr. Thomas Brown con- jectured this sense many years ago, and Sir Charles Bell has thrown much light on it by proving that sepa- rate roots, afterward joining in one apparent nerve, but evidently being two, give muscular motion and muscu- lar sensation. There is reason, therefore, to hold that the senses are not five, but seven in number. GENUS II. INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES, WHICH PROCURE KNOWLEDGE OF EXTERNAL OBJECTS, OF THEIR PHYSI- CAL QUALITIES AND VARIOUS RELATIONS. These faculties correspond in some degree with the perceptive powers of the metaphysicians, and form ideas. No. 22. Individuality. The organ of this faculty takes cognizance of indi- vidual existences of a horse, for example. Other knowing faculties respectively observe the form, color, size and weight of the horse, but a faculty was neces- sary to unite all these, and give the individual idea of a horse. It furnishes the substratum which has form, color, &c. Individuality is the storehouse of know- . t 38 PHRENOLOGY. ledge of things that simply exist. It is often large without being accompanied by reflecting power ; when this is the case, the individual has been compared to an encyclopedia, full of facts, but unable to reason from them. All the objects of Individuality are noun substantives. Verbs and adjectives are the perceptions of other faculties to be afterwards noticed. As Indi- viduality merely observes existences without regard to their modes of action, it is the faculty of the naturalist. Those who possess it large and active, observe the mi- nutest objects ; nothing escapes them, and they remem- ber even the minutest objects so well, that they will miss them when taken away. On the contrary, those who have it small, observe nothing, and give the most imperfect account of the objects which have been in their way. In the artist, the faculty gives great mi- nuteness of detail, and, with Imitation and Form, great power of hitting likenesses in portrait-painting. The faculty prompts to personification of abstract ideas, as Fame, Envy, Wisdom, Folly. No. 23. Form. This organ is situated on each side of, and close to, the crista galli, and occupies the space between the eyes. In those who have it large, the eyes are wide asunder, and vice versa. Dr. Gall discovered the or- gan in persons remarkable for recognizing faces after long intervals, and although, perhaps, only once and briefly seen. The bust of George III. furnishes the best example in the Phrenological Society's collection ; and it is well known that he never forgot a face. Townsend, the famous Bow-street officer, had the same talent, one most essential to his office. As every PHRENOLOGY. 39 material object must have a form, regular or irregular, this faculty was given to man and animals to perceive forms, and they could not exist without it. When large, it constitutes an essential element in a talent for drawing, but requires Size and Constructiveness to perfect the talent. Forms are capable of great beauty, and of affording much pleasure, and in nothing more than in the human figure. No. 24. Size. Every object has a size or dimension. Hence a faculty is necessary to perceive this quality. The or- gan is situated at the inner extremities of the eye- brows, where they turn upon the nose. A perception of Size is important to our movements and actions, and essential to our safety. There is no accuracy in draw- ing or perspective without this organ. A singular in- stance of a defect in the power of perceiving perspec- tive, accompanied with a small organ of Size, is men- tioned by Mr. Combe. " Mr. Ferguson, tutor in the family of Sir George Mackenzie, stated that he had a difficulty in ' under- standing a landscape' in a picture, and explained that ' it appeared to him to present a group of objects on a plain surface, without any perceptible fore or back ground.' He attributed this defect in his perceptions to his not having been taught the rules of perspective at school. In the course of farther interrogation, he stated that he sees the forms of objects distinctly, as also their colors ; that he likes brilliant tints best, and that in nature he perceives distances also. He has visited Koslin (in the neighborhood of Edinburgh), 40 PHRENOLOGY. and not only perceived the beauty which characterizes that delicious spot, but enjoyed it with a keen relish. He has also seen many pieces of Highland scenery, and been delighted with them. Rivers, meadows, trees and cultivated ground are, however, the objects which interest him most. On turning his back upon any natural landscape, or shutting his eyes, his recol- lections instantly become very confused. He is not able to recall to his mind the ' relative positions ' of the objects, while he distinctly recollects the pleasing im- pressions which they made upon him ; this remem- brance does not soon fade." Mr. Ferguson's organs of Ideality, Wonder and Intellect, are good ; but his Size, Form and Locality, are all deficient. His de- scription of his experience looks very like a defect in all three. Sir George Mackenzie thinks that the fac- ulty of Size, as it perceives dimension of every kind, whether in length, breadth, thickness, height, depth, or distance, is that faculty whereby we perceive space in general, analogous to the faculty of Time, by which we perceive time. Different individuals manifest dif- ferent degrees of the power of perceiving size. No. 25. "Weight. Weight is a quality of matter quite distinct from all its other qualities. The weight of any material object is only another name for its degree of gravitating ten- dency its attractibility to the earth. A power to perceive the different degrees of this attraction is es- sential to man's movements, safety, and even exist- ence. There must, it is said, be a faculty for this, and that faculty must have a cerebral instrument. PHRENOLOGY. 41 Phrenologists have generally localized that organ in the super-orbitar ridge or eyebrow, immediately next to Size, and farther from the top of the nose. But as yet the function of the Organ 25 has given rise to so much discussion, as to leave it far from certain what that precisely is. Mr. Combe says, " Persons who excel at archery and quoits, and also those Avho find great facility in judging of momentum and resistance in mechanics, are observed to possess the parts of the brain lying nearest to the organ of Size largely devel- oped; and the organ is now regarded as probable. Persons in whom Individuality, Size, Weight and Lo- cality are large, have generally a talent for engineer- ing, and those branches of mechanics which consist in the application of forces ; they delight in steam-en- gines, water-wheels and turning-lathes. No. 26. Coloring. As every object must have a color, in order to be visible, it seems necessary that there should be a fac- ulty to perceive this quality. The organ is the next outwards from Weight in the eyebrows, occupying the precise centre of each eyebrow. A hollow there, into which the end of the finger could be put, or such a flatness in the ridge of the eyebrow that a perpendicu- lar line dropt from it would pass through the eyeball, has, times without number, been found to be accom- panied by a want of power to discriminate colors, often to a ludicrous extent. A mercer's apprentice, who used to offer red to match green, was dismissed as unfit for his trade. The organ is large in great painters, especially great colorists, and gives an arched 42 PHRENOLOGY. - appearance to the eyebrow; for example in Rubens, Titian, Rembrandt, Salvator Rosa, Claude Lorraine, and others. A large endowment of the organ gives great delight in flowers and brilliant coloring of all kinds. No. 27. Locality. Dr. Gall was led to the discovery of this faculty as primitive, by comparing his own difficulties with a companion's facilities, in finding their way through the woods, where they had placed snares for birds, and marked ne^ts, when studying natural history. Every material object must exist in some part of space, and that part of space becomes place in virtue of being so occupied. Objects themselves are cognized by Indi- viduality ; but their place, the direction where they lie, the way to them, depend on another faculty, a fac- ulty given for that purpose. Without such a power, men and animals must, in situations where objects were numerous and complicated in their positions, as woods, have lost their way. No man could find his own home, no bird its own nest, no mouse its own hole. The use of the faculty will be rendered plain by considering what it is we do when we wish to re- member our way through the streets of a large city ; we note particular objects, buildings, for example, and observe how they stand in relation to each other, and these relations we can remember, although with a faint recollection of the forms of the objects themselves. No. 28. Number. The organ of this faculty is placed at the outer ex- tremity of the eyebrows and angle of the eye. It oc- PHRENOLOGY. 43 casions, when large, a fullness or breadth of the tem- ple, and often draws downwards the external corner of the eye. When it is small, the part is flat and nar- row between the eye and the temple. Their number is a very important relation or condition of things, and requires a distinct perceptive power. Our safety, and even existence, may depend on a clear perception of Number. Dr. Gall called the faculty, " Le Sens de Nombres" " The Sense of Numbers," and assigned to it not only arithmetic, but mathematics in general. Dr. Spurzheim more correctly limits its functions to arithmetic, algebra and logarithms ; geometry being the exercise, as already shown, of other faculties. No. 29. Order. The organ of this faculty is placed in the eyebrow, between Coloring and Number, and is large and prominent, and often pointed like a limpet-shell, in those who are remarkable for love of method, arrange- ment and symmetry, and are annoyed by confusion and irregularity. The marked love of order in some persons, and their suffering from disorder, are feelings which no other faculty, or combination of faculties, seems to embrace. Several cases are mentioned in the phrenological books, where it characterized idiots, deficient in almost every other faculty. An idiot girl in Edinburgh would not enter her brother's room, which was always in confusion; and Dr. Spurzheim mentions the Sauvage de 1'Aveyron, who replaced everything instinctively which others, often purposely to try him, disarranged. Mr. L., a late medical gen- tleman in Edinburgh, was remarkable for the organ 44 PHRENOLOGY. and its manifestation. He was pointed in his engage- ments for the faculty gives this important habit neat and careful in his writings, regular in his accounts, precise in his dress, and cleanly in his person ; the last-mentioned habit being likewise one manifestation of order. The faculty was hereditary in that gentle- man ; for his father was so precise in his arrange- ments, that on one occasion, having put his penknife into a wrong pocket, he would not for some time be persuaded to try any other than what he held to be the right one. He yielded, however, at last, and was much disconcerted when he found the unwontedly mirplaced article. In savages, whose habits are slov- enly, filthy and disgusting, like the Esquimaux, the organ is small. When we consider the abridgment and facilitation of our labor which result from arrange- ment, we can see a purpose in the endowment of this faculty. We doubt not that a more extended and careful analysis may discover for it yet more important functions. This organ is well established. No. 30. Eventuality. The organ of this faculty is situated in the very- centre of the forehead, and when large, gives to this part of the head a rounded prominence. Individuality has been called the faculty of nouns ; Eventuality is the faculty of verbs. The first perceives mere exist- ence ; the other motion, change, event, history. All knowledge must be of one or the other of these two descriptions either things that are or things that hap- pen. In the following examples the MAN speaks, the WIND lloivs, the DAY dawns, the nouns cognized by In- PHRENOLOGY. 45 dividuality are printed in capitals, while the verbs, addressed to Eventuality, are in italics. The first is simple existence ; the other is action, event, history. Dr. Gall distinguished, as the metaphysicians do, ver- bal memory, local memory, real memory. It is now phrenological doctrine that all the intellectual faculties have their own memory. Form remembers forms ; Color colors ; Size dimensions ; Individuality objects - Eventuality actions; Tune music; Comparison re semblances and analogies ; Causality logical reasons. No. 31. Time. Whatever be the essence of time as an entity, it is a reality to man, cognizable by a faculty by which he observes its lapse. Some persons are called walking time-pieces ; they can tell the hour without looking at a watch ; and some even can do so, nearly, when wak- ing in the night. The faculty also marks the minute divisions of duration, and their relations and harmo- nies, which are called time in music, and rhythm in versification. The impulse to mark time with the head, hands, feet and whole body, is too common, too natural and too strong, not to be the result of a faculty ; it is the impulse to dance, almost universal in both savage and civilized man ; and its existence settles the question with the " Friends," of the innocence or sin- fulness of dancing. In some, the impulse, when well- marked time is offered the better if combined with music, though a well-beat drum may be danced to is often irresistible. It exists in a diseased state, for we have seen dancing madmen. m 40 PHRENOLOGY. No. 32. Tune. The organ of this faculty is situated still farther out than that of Time, giving a roundness to the point where the forehead turns to form the temples. It is large in great musicians ; and when small and hollow, there is an utter incapacity to distinguish either melo- dy or harmony. The organ is sometimes diseased. A young lady, a patient of Dr. Cornbe's, was seized with an irresistible craving for music, which haunted even her dreams, and she complained of pain in the very situation of the organ. Music may be denned as a species of natural language, depending immediately on either a melodious succession, or a harmonious uni- son, of tones tones, again, being distinguished from simple noises by a peculiarity in the mode of their production. A noise is the result of some isolated concussion of the air ; when concussions or impulses on the air follow in a sufficiently rapid succession, they melt into each other, and the effect is a tone. These are facts in natural philosophy, and have been curiously illustrated by a piece of mechanism, which, in its slow movements, produces only noises, but, when impelled with, great rapidity, gives forth tones. The musical notes are repetitions of a series of seven tones, each of which is produced by a certain number of impulses on the air within a given space of time, and the numbers of these impulses all bear certain nice mathematical relations to each other. The organ of Tune in the human brain appears to have been constituted in rela- tion to these physical facts, and, in cases of good en- dowment, to have a most exact perception of all their niceties, and a power of using them to the production PHRENOLOGY. 47 of the species of natural language which we term mu- sic. Cases of a low endowment of the musical faculty, or of persons said to want musical ear, are of frequent occurrence, though, perhaps, in many such instances, early culture would have brought out some trace of the faculty. The great bulk of mankind possess the organ in a moderate endowment, so as to be capable of enjoying music in some degree. No. 33. Language. When the faculties are in activity, either singly or in combination, the impulse in almost all individuals is strong, in many irresistible, to communicate to others the feelings or thoughts produced by them. This may be done by signs, which is natural lan- guage, or by words, which constitute conventional. A faculty is given to man and animals which connects feelings with signs and cries ; but to man alone is given articulate speech. The comparative facility with which different men clothe their thoughts in words, depends on the size of this organ, which is situ- ated in the super-orbitar plate, immediately above the eyeball, and when large, pushes the eye outwards, and sometimes downwards, producing, in the latter case, a wrinkling or pursing of the lower eyelid. There is no fluent speaker deficient in this organ. Internal Excitement of the Knowing Organs. Spectral Illusions. The Knowing Organs are for the most part called into activity by external objects, such as forms, colors, sounds, individual things, &c. ; but internal causes often excite them, and when they are in action, objects 48 PHRENOLOGY. will be perceived which have no external existence, and which, nevertheless, the individual will believe to be real. This is the explanation of visions, spectres, and ghosts, and at once explains the firm belief of many that they have appeared to them, and the fact that it never happens that two persons see the same spectres at the same time. The Marquis de Villa did not see Tasso's familiar spirit, although sitting beside him when he declared it appeared to himself. It is likely that the proximate cause of these morbid manifestations was an undue determination of blood to the region of the head where the knowing organs are situated. Nicolai, the bookseller of Berlin, when sub- ject to the same disease, applied leeches along the eye- brows ; and as the leeches filled, the illusions van- ished, becoming fainter and fainter. Such are often the slight causes, revealed by science, of important, and otherwise bewildering effects. The mysteries of the English Opium-Eater have been made plain by the case of Miss S. L. He saw faces in millions, in- sufferable lights, brilliant colors, &c. ; and, as we have stated when treating of the organ of Weight, he lost the sensation of support or resistance, and seemed to fall millions of miles. Mr. John Hunter, the anat- omist, likewise suffered from illusions of Size and Weight, his leg often extending, as he thought, many miles in length, and having the weight of a mountain. GENUS III. REFLECTIVE FACULTIES. The Intellectual Faculties already considered, give us knowledge of objects, and the qualities and relations PHRENOLOGY. 49 of objects, also of the changes they undergo, or events. The two remaining faculties, according to Dr. Spurz- heim, " act on all the other sensations and notions ; " that is, they judge of the relations of different ideas or classes of ideas produced by the Knowing Faculties. They minister to the direction and gratification of all the other faculties, and constitute what by excellence is called reason, in other words, reflection. No. 34. Comparison. Dr. Gall discovered the organ of this faculty in a man of science, who reasoned chiefly by means of analogies and comparisons, and rarely by logical de- ductions. He illustrated everything, and carried his opponent along with him with a flood of resemblances, concluding that the thing disputed must be true, being like so many things that are known to be true. In his head was a fullness in the form of a reversed pyramid, just in the middle of the upper part of the forehead. The faculty perceives analogies and resemblances. Every faculty can compare its own objects. Coloring can compare colors ; Weight weights ; Form forms ; Tune sounds; but Comparison can compare a color with a note, or a form with a weight, &c. Analogy is a comparison not of things but of their relations. The Saviour, for example, in his parental apostrophe, does not compare Jerusalem with himself as two objects ; but compares the relation of a hen to her chickens cov- ered with her wings, with the relation of his own be- nevolent feelings towards that devoted city. In doing this, he addressed the faculty of Comparison in his hearers. It is constantly addressed in Scripture by similes, parables, allegories, and all kinds of analogies. 50 PHRENOLOGY. No. 35. Causality. This is the highest and noblest of the intellectual powers, and is the last in the phrenological analysis of the faculties. Dr. Spurzheim so named it, from ob- serving that it traces the connexion between cause and effect, and sees the relation of ideas to each other in respect of necessary consequence. Its organs are situ- ated on each side of Comparison. Some metaphysi- cians have held that we have no idea of cause, but see only sequence, or one thing following another. It is true that we do see sequence. When, for example, fire is put to gunpowder, Individuality perceives the existence of the powder and of the match ; Eventuality sees the motion which unites them, and the change or event which takes place in the explosion ; but we have a third idea, namely, that of power, agency or ef- ficiency, existing in some way in the cause, to produce the effect. Whence do we get this third idea ? from a third or distinct faculty, and that is Causality. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. According to the phrenologists, the faculties are not mere passive feelings ; they all tend to action. When duly active, the actions they produce are proper or necessary ; in excess or abuse, they are improper, vi- cious or criminal. Small moral organs do not produce abuses ; but they are unable to prevent the abuse of the animal organs, as the larger tend to do ; thus, small Benevolence is not cruel, but it does not offer sufficient control to Destructiveness, which then impels to cruelty. Large organs have the greatest, small the least, ten- dency to act each faculty producing the feeling or PHRENOLOGY. 51 idea peculiar to itself. Seeing that all the organs tend to action, the Creator must have intended a legitimate sphere of action for them all. He could never have created either bad or unnecessary faculties. The PROPENSITIES and SENTIMENTS cannot be called into action by the will. We cannot fgar, or pity, or love, or be angry, by willing it. But internal causes may stimulate the organs, and then, whether we wiH or not, their emotions will be felt. Again, these feel- ings are called into action in spite of the will, by the presentation of their external objects Cautiousness by objects of terror, Love by beauty,- and so on. The force of the feelings, whether excited from within or without, will be in proportion to the activity of the temperament. Excessive action of the affective facul- ties, or the removal of their object, causes pain. Ex- cessive rage is painful to Destructiveness ; and the death of an infant pains the Philoprogenitiveness of the mother. Insanity is a frequent result of over- activity of the affective feelings. An affective faculty may be diseased, and yet the intellect sound. The converse is also true. When the organ is small, its feeling cannot be adequately experienced. Hence the frauds of those with small Conscientiousness and large Secretiveness and Acquisitiveness. The will can in- directly excite the affective feelings, by setting the in- tellect to work to find externally, or conceive internally, the proper objects. This accounts for different turns and pursuits. The value of the truth, that large or- gans give strong, and small weak impulses, is incal- culable in society ; all the practical arrangements by which persons may be selected to perform certain 52 PHRENOLOGY. functions, and excluded from others where they would be profitless or unsafe, depend upon it. Moral train- ing by educators is founded on it. The weak facul- ties should be strengthened, and the strong regulated. Lastly, the affective faculties do not form ideas, but simply feel ; and therefore have no memory, concep- tion, or imagination. They have Sensation only ; in other words, they feel. Hence Sensation belongs to all the faculties which feel, and to the external senses and nervous system in general. Sensation, therefore, is a state or condition, not a faculty, as it is held to be by the metaphysicians. The KNOWING and REFLECTING FACULTIES, or Intel- lect, form ideas, perceive relations, and are subject to, or rather consitute, the Will; and minister to the affective faculties. They may be excited by external objects, and by internal causes. When excited by the presentation of external objects, these objects are per- ceived, and this act is called PERCEPTION. It is the lowest degree of activity of the intellectual faculties : and those who are deficient in a faculty cannot per- ceive its object. We often see, for example, inability to perceive melody, color, analogy, or necessary con- sequence, from defective Tune, Coloring, Comparison, and Causality. Every faculty, as a percipient, has its own perception. CONCEPTION is also a mode of action of the faculties, not a faculty itself. It is the activity of the faculties from internal causes, either willed, or involuntary from natural activity. IMAGINATION is conception carried to a high pitch of vivacity. Thus, Perception is the lowest degree of activity of any of the intellectual fac- PHRENOLOGY. 53 ulties, Conception the second, and Imagination the highest. Imagination is often confounded with Ideality, but is quite distinct from it. Each faculty conceives in its own way. Form conceives forms, and may imagine them exquisitely beautiful ; Tune conceives music ; and so on. Curious effects result when these faculties are morbidly active. The whole mystery of spectral illusions is thus made plain. DREAMING, to account for which so many volumes have been written in vain, is at once explained by the excitability of the organs from internal causes ; and as some organs may be awake while others are asleep, the disjointed images of our dreaming moments are, to the phrenologist, a thing which was to have been expected. The kind of dreams most frequent with us could be predicted by the phrenologist from the size of the predominating organs. MEMORY, too, is not a faculty, but a mode of action. It necessarily follows that there can be no such thing as the general memory of the metaphysicians, but every faculty must have its own memory. Memory belongs, however, only to the intellectual faculties. It differs from Conception and Imagination in this, that it recollects real objects or events which it has actually perceived, and adds the consciousness of time elapsed since they were perceived. The other named modes of action do not require realities or time. JUDGMENT, in its proper sense, is the perception of adaptation, fitness and necessary consequence ; and is a mode of action of the reflecting powers. In a cer- tain sense, the knowing faculties may each be said to possess judgment ; as Coloring judges of colors, Form 54 PHRENOLOGY. of forms, Tune of music. When, however, we use the word judgment, we mean right reasoning, sound deciding. To this a proper balance of the affective faculties is essential. There is no sound judgment, even with great reflecting powers, if any of the feel- ings are excessive. Hence the difficulty of convincing each other, experienced by heated controversialists. What is called a person of good sense, is one who has not only clear and strong reflecting powers, but well- balanced feelings, thus allowing the reflecting powers to have undisturbed action. CONSCIOUSNESS is the knowledge which the mind has of its own existence and operations, whether these last are affective or intellectual ; but as it does not reveal the existence or nature of the powers themselves which think and feel, it was an error in the metaphysicians to attempt to discover these powers by reflecting on their own consciousness. As they could have, by this means, no access to the consciousness of others, they fell into the error of supposing all men constituted alike. ATTENTION is not a faculty, but the stretch, appli- cation, or tension, of any or all of the intellectual fac- ulties. ASSOCIATION is that succession of ideas in the mind, each seeming to call up that which succeeds ; so that, in our waking hours, the mind is never without an idea passing through it. This is a state or condition of the faculties, not a faculty. The metaphysicians have endeavoured to discover laws by which, in every mind, this succession is regulated. This attempt is utterly vain as vain as to subject the succession of PHRENOLOGY. 55 the fleeting clouds or fitful breezes to regular laws. The uniform associating powers, according to the old notions, are resemblance, contiguity in time and place, and contrast ; yet any one who thinks on the subject, cannot fail to be sensible that there are many connect- ing links of thought which cannot be reduced to any of these three. The phrenological view is, that^the predominant faculties in each mind create the associa- tions. It is in the philosophy of Stewart that As- sociation is made to play a part most disproportioned to its actual nature. He even holds that Association produces new principles of action, and names Avarice (which phrenology proves to be the abuse of a primi- tive faculty called Acquisitiveness) as one of them. Association is a very important principle in mental science. There is a mutual influence of the organs, which produces associations ; a natural association be- tween certain external objects and certain faculties ; and artificial associations may be formed between ob- jects and faculties. For example, long exercise of a particular organ or organs in performing certain acts, renders those acts easy, by the rapid association of the ideas necessary to their performance. Professional skill, in all its varieties, is thus accounted for. Mutual action of the faculties arises from the beautiful arrange- ment of grouping which we have already described. The organ of Language associates signs with ideas, with well known rapidity. Artificial Memory, or Mnemonics, as it is called, avails itself of our most easy and natural associations, which will always be regulat- ed by our organization. One person will connect his ideas with /or/Tw, another with colors, and many do so 56 PHRENOLOGY. with places. Prejudices are associations of false ideas with the feelings. In short, to arrive at anything like laws of association, we must not look to the ideas themselves, but to the faculties which form them. PASSION is any faculty in excess. Thus, there are as many passions as faculties. Love is the passion of Amativeness in union with Veneration ; avarice of Acquisitiveness ; rage of Destructiveness. PLEASURE and PAIN also belong to each faculty, ac- cording as it is agreeably or disagreeably affected. PATIENCE and IMPATIENCE are respectively the re- sults of certain combinations of faculties. Thus, Be- nevolence, Veneration, Hope, Conscientiousness and Firmness, with moderate Self-Esteem, produce a quiet, meek, resigned and patient spirit. Apathy is quite different, although often confounded with Patience ; it arises from lymphatic temperament, or deficient brain. On the other hand, Self-Esteem, Combativeness and Destructiveness, when larger than Benevolence, Con- scientiousness and Veneration, will be impatient of contradiction. Large Time and Tune give impatience of bad music. JOY and GRIEF arise from agreeable and disagree- able affections of the faculties by causes of consider- able power. Wealth, power and praise give joy to Acquisitiveness, Self-Esteem and Love of Approba- tion ; while, on the other hand, the death of a beloved relative affects Adhesiveness with grief. SYMPATHY, as its name, from the Greek, signifies, is feeling with another, or partaking of his emotions. The laws which regulate the activity of the faculties show the nature of this affection and the circumstances i PHRENOLOGY. 57 in which it occurs. Two individuals of *similar con- stitution of mind naturally feel alike. This is the sympathy felt in the theatre, listening to eloquence, or witnessing distress and suffering. But there is another kind of sympathy, namely, that which is called up by the activity of a particular feeling in another's mind, manifested by the natural language of the active fac- ulty ; thus, the Jbaughty air of Self-Esteem instantly calls up a defensive Self-Esteem in those who witness it, if the faculty be powerful in them. On the other hand, Benevolence, with its kind natural language, excites the same feeling in another. "Wonder, too, spreads rapidly ; and so on. We sympathize with the animal feelings of Combativeness and Destructiveness only when they are awakened and guided by Consci- entiousness and Benevolence. But we sympathize with Benevolence directly, provided we do not detect a mixture of a selfish feeling in the actions it produces, such as vanity or love of gain. The doctrine of sym- pathy leads to valuable practical consequences in life. In education, for example, it explains the greater power of Benevolence than of Self-Esteem and Destructive- ness in the treatment of the young of kindness than of harsh and imperious commands and punishments. HABIT may be defined as the power of doing any- thing well, by frequently doing it. But before it can be done at all, there must be the faculty to do it, how- ever awkwardly. Habit, then, is the acquired strength of the faculty by its repeated exercise. The act of performing skilfully on a musical instrument is the best illustration. Stewart erred when he held that " a genius for poetry, painting, music or mathe- 58 PHEENOLOGY. + matics, is gradually formed by particular habits of study or of business." These phrenology shows to be the result of original primitive powers, which habit does not form, but only improves. TASTE was held by Stewart to be a faculty, and acquired by habit. Phrenology holds that good taste is the result of a harmonious action of all the faculties. Bad taste is evinced when particular faculties, espe- cially the propensities, break out. beyond due limits. Lord Byron's Destructiveness and other animal facul- ties often prompted him to sin against good taste. Too much Causality is bad taste in Poetry ; while Homer and Moore have too much Comparison. Social con- verse is injured by bad taste in various ways by dis- plays^kf vanity, disputatiousness, &c. Bad morality is bad taste ; but it is more, it is turpitude. A stand- ard of taste, about which so much has been written, is not a decision in respect to certain objects or qualities of objects, as beautiful or perfect to all men. This were a vain attempt ; but it may be approximated, by appealing to the taste of individuals of very favorable and harmonious organization, which has received the highest possible culture. It is obvious to every one that good taste, sound judgment and good morals, all require well-balanced faculties. Such is a brief view of Phrenology, as represented by its advocates ; and though we are not disposed, fully, to admit its claims, it is yet, in many respects, instruc- tive, and is certainly worthy of being studied for the numerous useful facts and observations which it ex- hibits. MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. THE Science of Phrenology, as we have stated, proposes to furnish the basis of Mental Philosophy, but, in the outlines we have given, we have rather exhibited what are claimed to be the instruments of thought, than the operations of the mind itself. Even were we to admit, therefore, that the science is found- ed in truth, a farther investigation is needed. Ac- cordingly we propose to give a brief view of the phi- losophy of the mind, as laid down by the great writers on this subject, and as recognised by the scientific world. Mental Science, or the Philosophy of the Human Mind, is that branch of knowledge which investigates the laws of the human intellect. Its object is to as- certain the, properties of the mind, the origin of its various modes of thought and feeling, the ways in which they operate upon each other, and the means by which they are to be cultivated or repressed. Mental Philosophy is not uncommonly confounded with metaphysics ; and the absurdities and vain spec- ulations which have been classed under the latter, have been supposed by many to belong to the former The science of metaphysics comprehends all those in vestigations which have for their aim the properties, classification and laws of such objects of human thought as by sensation alone could not be brought 60 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. under the notice of the human mind. The ancient metaphysics comprehended many objects which can scarcely be said to lie within the sphere of human knowledge, and which are rather to be considered as the reveries of the imagination than the realities of intellect ; but these the good sense of the present day regards merely as objects of curiosity. Whatever relates to the properties of the mind, to the operations of intellect and affection, is of great im- portance in various points of view. The philosophy of the mind, as Mr. Stewart justly remarks, abstracted entirely from that eminence which belongs to it in consequence of its practical applications, may claim a distinguished rank among those preparatory disciplines which Berkeley has happily compared to " the crops which are raised, not for the sake of the harvest, but to be ploughed in as a dressing to the land." This science, in fact, teaches man to know himself, and to improve, direct, and exert his intellectual faculties in a manner the most beneficial to himself and others. In particular, it begets a just sense of the dignity of our rational nature, and the great end of intellectual- existence. It directs us to the best method of culti- vating the mental powers, of preventing or correcting prejudice and error, and of enlarging the stock of use- ful knowledge. By analyzing the principles of action, and tracing the origin and progress of affection, habit, and character, it leads to the proper discipline of the heart, and supplies the most efficacious means of cor- recting all undue bias of self-love, of resisting the motives to vice, of restraining the exorbitance of the passions, of cultivating virtuous principles, and of at- MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 61 taining that just and beautiful symmetry of the afiec tions, that elevation of mind, and disinterestedness of character, which, when combined with vigor of intel- lect and comprehension of views, constitute the true dignity and happiness of man. GENERAL VIEW OF THE FACULTIES OF THE MIND. Whatever thinks, and feels, and wills, is called mind. That part of the human being which thinks, and feels, and wills, is called the human mind. We observe without us and within us, numerous phenomena : the object of mental philosophy is to deduce from them those general laws agreeably to which they are pro- duced ; and then to employ those laws in the explana- tion of other phenomena. Mental philosophy pursues the same method which has been so successfully adopted in natural philosophy ; and as in physics, similar phenomena are referred to the operation of some one cause or power, so in mental science those phenomena which have all one common feature are referred to some faculty or property of the mind by whose operation these phenomena are supposed to be produced. If we hold a luminous body before the eye, it pro- duces some change in the state of that organ, and this produces in the mind a feeling ; this feeling is called a sensation. This name is also given to all those other feelings which are produced in a similar way, namely, owing to a change in the organs of sense, whatever be the cause by which the change is pro- duced. The general fact or law is, that sensations 62 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. are produced by what affects the organs of sense. Now, to account for this fact we infer that the mind is possessed of a power or capacity which we call sensa- tion, or, more effectually to avoid ambiguity, the sen- sitive power. This, then, is that power or capacity of the mind by whose operation it receives sensations from things which affect the organs of sense. We know as a matter of fact, that though sensa- tions cease soon after the exciting object is withdrawn, yet if they have been produced sufficiently often, or vividly, the causes of feeling, similar in kind, remain in the mind; and those similar feelings can recur where no change is produced in the organs of sense. These are called ideas ; they are the relics of sensa- tions. Such is the general law or fact. The opera- tion or act of retaining relics of sensations, may with the strictest propriety, he termed retention ; and to ac- count for it we infer that the mind possesses a power or capacity which we may term the retentive power. This, then, is that power or capacity of the mind by which it retains relics of the sensations. OF THE SENSITIVE POWER. The brain is a soft, pulpy mass, occupying the cav- ity of the skull. The spinal marrow is a continuation of the lowest part of the brain, which passes through the great opening of the skull down to the hollow of the back-bone. From the brain and spinal marrow proceed the nerves, which at first are fine fibres of the same substance with the brain ; these fibres meet and form soft pulpy cords, which afterwards spread them- * ^^ MEXTAL PHILOSOPHY. 63 ^m selves over various parts of the body by splitting into innumerable and exceedingly minute branches. The external organs of sense, the nerves, brain, and whole medullary substance, are the corporeal organs of sense. All, as we are at present constituted; are necessary to sensation. If the external organ is destroyed, no sensa- tion can be produced ; where there are no nerves there is no sensation ; where the nervous branches are most numerous, there is most sensation. The brain is the ultimafe organ of sensation ; all the nerves terminate there. " The external organs of sensation are usually classed under five heads, Sight, Hearing, Feeling or Touch, Smell, and Taste. The sense of feeling might probably, with convenience, be divided into two or three. But the common arrangement is sufficient for our purpose. The touch is the original medium of our knowledge respecting the real qualities of substance, and indeed is the sole medium by which we gain a knowledge of external objects as such. It is by the tonch, and originally by the touch alone, aided by the power of muscular motion, that we distinguish our own bodies from other objects that surround us. When we touch a sensible part of our bodies, we have sensations conveyed to the mind through two nervous branches ; when we touch any other body, we have only one sen- sation. The notion that external objects give us the sensations of sound, taste, sight and smell, is so con- tinually forced upon us by the sensations of touch aid- ed by the power of muscular motion, that there proba- bly never was a person who doubted the existence of 64 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. the external world as the cause of his sensations, ex- cept from the influence of philosophical speculation. Some very acute thinkers have, indeed, given up the belief of an external world as the cause of their sensa- tions ; hut their opinions never did, nor ever can, gain much ground, for it is inconsistent with the percep- tions, which by the constitution of our frame, are ne- cessarily formed from continually recurring sensations. Berkeley and Drummond are the chief supporters of this erroneous opinion to which we allude. Sensations, then, are the rudiments or elements of all our ideas, that is, of all our thoughts and feelings, excepting the ideas of consciousness. When the at- tention of the mind is directed to its own state and operations whether these are directly intentional, semi-voluntary, or the result of habit or external im- pression it is termed reflection. The capacity of re- flection, or the observation of what passes within us. is seldom perceived very early in life ; and agreeably to the obvious order of nature, it ought not to be pre- dominant till the world without us has furnished abundant materials for our mental operations. Considering man as an intellectual being, the cor- rectness and extent of his perceptions are of the first moment; these are, in fact, the materials of all knowledge respecting external objects, and in the early stages of mental culture, are the only objects of the understanding. OF THE RETENTIVE POWERS. Whatever be the effect produced on the mental organs by the impressions on the organs of sense, that MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 65 effect can be renewed, though in general with dimin- ished vigor, without a repetition of the sensible im- pressions. In other words, sensible changes produce a tendency to similar changes which can be repeated without the repetition of the external impressions, and may thus be called ideal changes. In many animals it is highly probable that sensations leave no relics behind them ; and in man there are, with equal proba- bility, numerous impressions from external objects, which leave no relics behind them. Without the re- tentive power, it is obvious that man would be a crea- ture of mere sensation, little if at all superior to the lowest orders of the animal creation, and inferior to many of them. The retentive power provides mate- rials for the agency of the associative power. Sensible changes may perceptibly continue after the sensible objects are removed. Philosophy may here draw an illustration from the childish amusement of what is. called " making gold lace." If a piece of stick be burnt at one end, and the lighted end be waved quickly in the air it will appear like a continu- ous riband of fire ; the changes of the optic organs continuing till the image of the luminous point re- turns to any given point of the retina. Acoustics may furnish another illustration. If a sonorous body be struck with rapidly-succeeding strokes, we do not per- ceive any interval between the sounds ; in fact the most simple sounds we hear being reflected from the neighboring bodies, consist of a number of sounds succeeding each other. The sensible changes pro- duced by the other senses also continue some time after the impressions which have been made upon E 66 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. them. If a hard body be pressed upon the palm of the hand, it is not easy to distinguish, for a few sec- onds, whether it remains or is removed. And tastes continue to be perceived long after the sapid substance is removed. OF THE ASSOCIATIVE POWER. By this power, sensations become the signs of thoughts and feelings, and man becomes a social being. By this the whole mental furniture of perceptions, notions, affections, passions, sentiments, emotions, &c. is formed from the simple relics of sensation ; and man, from mere sensation, rises to intellect, and becomes capable of reflection and action. A sensation, after having been associated a sufficient number of times with another sensation, will, when impressed alone, excite the simple idea corresponding with that other sensation. Thus the names, smells, tastes, &c. of external objects, suggest the Idea of their visible appearance ; and the sight of them sug- gests their names, &c. In the same manner, a word half pronounced excites the idea of the whole word ; the sight of part of an object suggests the idea of the whole. Words associated with ideas will readily excite them, even when very complex. The words hero, philosopher, justice, benevolence, truth, and the like, whether written or pronounced, immediately call up with precision the corresponding idea. Sensation may be connected with muscular action, that is, with those sensorial changes which are followed by muscular action, so that the sensation will excite the muscular action without the intervention of that MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 67 state of mind which is called wHL. A person automat- ically, that is, without any volition, turns his head towards another who calls him by name. When the hand of another is rapidly moved towards the eye, we shut the eye without thinking of it, or even being con- scious of it. The will is that state of mind which is immediately previous to, and causes, those express acts of memory, imagination, judgment, and bodily motion which are termed voluntary. The will assumes different com- plexions, according to the nature of the motives influencing it. Sometimes it is a simple determina- tion of the understanding; at other times it is the result of the affections, passions, &c. The will appears to be nothing but a desire or aversion sufficiently strong to produce an action that is not automatic, pri- marily, or secondarily. The will is, therefore, that desire or aversion which is strongest for the actual time. It is true that we often desire and pursue things which give pain rather than pleasure ; but it is to be supposed that they at first afforded pleasure, and that they afterwards give pain on account of a change in our circumstances. Now as the continuance to de- sire and pursue such objects, notwithstanding the pain arising from them, is the effect of the power of associ- ation, so the same power will at last reverse its own steps, and free us from such hurtful desires and pur- suits. OF THE MOTIVE POWER. From what has been already stated, it is an obvious fact that without any external excitement of the nerves DO MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. by whih muscular motion is produced, the mind can produce any such motion ; in other words, that state of the motory nerves by which muscular motion is effected, can be produced by the mind. To account for this we infer that the mind possesses a power or capacity of influencing the motory nerves so as to pro- duce muscular motion, which may be called the motive power. Whatever be the causes of muscular motion, that motion, if it begin from the mind, implies that the mind possesses the power of which we speak, separate from the cause of sensations, of ideas, and of the con- nexions among them. There are five classes of mus- cular motion. 1. When it is produced by some foreign excitement of the muscular system without any intervention of the mind, in which case it may be termed involuntary. 2. When it is produced by sensations, or sensible changes, without volition, or any other associated sensation, idea, or motion having been concerned in the connection between sensation and motion : this is termed automatic. 3. Where it follows the state of mind called will, directly, and without our perceiving the intervention of any other idea, or of any sensation or motion, it may be termed voluntary in the highest sense of the word. If the intervention of other ideas, or of sensations and emo- tions, all of which we suppose to follow the will direct- ly, be necessary, it is imperfectly voluntary ; yet still it is termed voluntary in popular language if it follow certainly and readily upon the intervention of a single sensation, idea or motion excited by the power of the will. 4. If more than one of these be required, or if the motion do not follow with certainty and facility, it MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 69 is to be esteemed less and less voluntary, semi-volun- tary, or scarcely voluntary at all, according to the cir- cumstances. 5. When the motion has been voluntary, but is become automatic by the influence of the auto- matic power, it is termed secondarily automatic. The most simple instance of this progress is in the action of grasping. The fingers of young children bend upon almost every impression which is made on the palm of the hand ; thus performing the action of grasping in the original automatic manner. After a sufficient repetition of the motions which concur in this action, the sensorial changes preceding them are strongly associated with different ideas, the most com- mon of which probably are those excited by the sight of a favorite plaything or other object which the child used to grasp and hold in his hand. He ought there- fore, according to the doctrine of association, to per- form and repeat the action of grasping upon having such a plaything, &c. presented to his sight ; and it is a known fact that children do so. Here the action is perfectly automatic. By pursuing the same method of association, we may see how, after a sufficient repe- tition of the proper associations, the sound of the words grasp, take, hold, &c., the sight of the nurse's hand in a state of contraction, the recollection of a hand in that state, and innumerable other associated circumstances, that is, sensations, ideas and motions, will produce the action of grasping ; till, in conse- quence of the action being found to answer certain purposes which are wished for, that state of mind which we may call the will to grasp, is generated and sufficiently associated with the action to produce the 70 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. requisite muscular motion instantaneously. The action is therefore perfectly voluntary in .this case ; and by the innumerable repetitions of it in this per- fectly voluntary state, it at last acquires a sufficient connection with so many sensorial changes, either sen- sitive, ideal, or motory, that whether or not they are so vivid or so accordant with the state of mind at the time, as to obtain the notice of the mind, it follows them in the same manner as originally automatic actions do the corresponding sensations ; that is, it becomes secondarily automatic. In the same manner may all the actions performed by the hand be explain- ed : all those which are very familiar in life passing from the original automatic state through the several degrees of voluntariness, till they become perfectly voluntary; and then repassing through the same stages in an inverted order till they become secondarily automatic on many occasions, though still perfectly voluntary on some occasions, namely, whenever an express act of the will is concerned. OF THE MEMORY. The memory is that faculty by which traces of sen- sations and ideas recur, or are recalled, in the same order and proportion, accurately or nearly, in which they were once actually presented. The rudiments of memory are laid in the perpetual recurrence of the same impressions, or groups of impressions. These, by the operation of the retentive power, leave traces or relics, and by the operation of the associative power, these are united in the order in which they were pre- MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 71 sented to the mind. The single sensible impressions, and small groups of them being few in comparison with all the large groups, they recur the most fre- quently, so as sooner , to produce the elements of memory. Suppose a person to have so far advanced in life as to have acquired all these elements ; that is, he has ideas of the common appearances and occurrences of life, under a considerable variety of subordinate circum- stances, which would readily recur to his mind by slight causes : he will be thus easily enabled to retrace other occurrences, for these will consist either of the old impressions variously combined, or of new ones in some way or other connected with them. This may be exemplified and explained by the circumstance that it is difficult to remember even well-known words which have no connection with each other ; and still more so words which are neither familiar nor formed according to familiar analogies ; but that, on the other hand, persons acquainted with any science or art, very easily retain facts connected with it which were pre- viously unknown. The recollection of ideas is also greatly aided by the connection of wordsj both with them and with the original impressions : for words being from the constant use of language, familiar to persons of moderate mental culture, even in various combinations, they are easily retained, and most materially assist in producing the recurrence of the corresponding ideas. And thus when a person is relating a past fact, the ideas do in some cases suggest the words, and in others the words suggest the ideas. Hence illiterate persons, other things being equal, do not remember as well as others. 72 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. Ideas of recollection differ from those of imagination principally in the readiness and strength of the asso- ciations ; but partly, and in most cases almost entirely, by the connection of the former with known and al- lowed facts ; by various methods of reasoning, appro- priate to the peculiar circumstances of the case, and by recollecting that we had before considered them as recollections, &c. All persons are, at one time or other, at a loss to know whether trains of vivid ideas succeeding each other readily and rapidly, are ideas of recollection or imagination, that is, mere reveries ; and the more they agitate the matter in their minds, the more does the reverie appear like a recollection. Persons of irritable nervous systems are more subject to such fallacies than others ; and insane persons often impose upon themselves in this way, namely by the vividness of their ideas and associations produced by bodily causes. The same thing often happens in dreams. Memory depends greatly upon the state of the brain. Concussions and other disorders of the brain, excess in sensual pleasures, and the use of spirituous liquors, impair it ; and it is recovered by degrees as the causes which affected the brain are removed. In like man- ner dreams, which happen in a peculiar state of the brain, namely, during sleep, vanish as soon as vigil- ance, a different state, takes place. But if they be re- collected immediately upon waking, and thus connect- ed with a state of vigilance, they may be remembered. When a person desires to recollect a thing that has escaped him, suppose the name of a visible object, he recalls the visible idea or some other associate, again MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. T3 and again by a voluntary power, and thus at last brings in the required association and idea. But if the desire be very great, it changes the state of the mental organs, and has an opposite effect, so that the desired idea does not recur till all has subsided, and perhaps not even then. The excellence of the memory consists partly in its strength and accuracy of reten- tion, partly in the readiness of recollection. The for- mer principally depends on the strength and accuracy of perception, on attention to our sensations, and partly upon the associative faculty. The latter depends en- tirely upon the strength and peculiar biases of the operations of that power. The intellectual faculties depend greatly upon the memory. Hence though some persons may have strong memories with weak judgments, yet no man can have a strong judgment with a weak original power of retaining and remem- bering. OF THE IMAGINATION. Imagination is a power compounded of several others. It includes conception, or simple apprehension, which enables us to form a notion of those former objects of perception or of knowledge, out of which we are to make a selection ; abstraction, which separates the se- lected materials from the qualities and circumstances which are connected with them in nature ; and judg- ment, or taste, which selects the materials and directs their combination. Imagination is the power which gives birth to the productions of the poet and the paint- er, and we may add, of genius in general. 74 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. The recurrence of ideas, especially visible and audi- ble ones, in a vivid manner, but without any regard to the order observed in past facts, is ascribed to the power of imagination or fancy. Every succeeding thought is the result, either of some new impression or of an association with the preceding. It is impos- sible indeed to attend so minutely to the succession of our ideas as to distinguish and to remember for a suf- ficient time, the very impression or association Avhich gave rise to each thought or conception ; but we can do this as far as it can be expected to be done, and in so great a variety of instances, that we have full right to infer it in all. A reverie differs from imagination only in this, that the person being more attentive to his own thoughts, and less disturbed by external objects, more of his trains of ideas are deducible from asso- ciation, and fewer from new impressions. It is to be observed, however, that in all cases of imagination and reverie, the train and complexion of the thoughts de- pend, in part, upon the actual state of the body or mind. For instance, a pleasurable or painful state of the stomach, joy or grief, will make all the thoughts tend to the same cast. Objects and circumstances may be so disposed as to give to reverie a pleasing or pensive direction. The mind is more apt to depart from serious meditation in a gaudy chapel than in the solemn gloom of a cathedral. OF THE UNDERSTANDING. By this power we contemplate sensations and ideas considered as such, and the various operations of the MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 75 mind, discern the relations which exist among the ob- jects of perception and thought, pursue truth, and as- sent to, or dissent from, propositions. Consciousness is the capacity of the mind by which it is capable of being affected by sensorial changes, whether sensible, ideal, or motory. Consciousness is, in fact, the notion of the mind itself; and the term is, in the most appropriate sense, applied to that state by which every mental change or operation is attended, if it in any degree excites the notice of the mind. It is by consciousness alone that we have any knowledge of the other powers of the mind ; and when directed to their operations, the appellation is peculiarly ap- propriate. When it is excited by sensible changes it is usually called perception. We are conscious of ideas and sensations ; we perceive the external objects which produce impressions on our senses. When the notice of the mind is continued to any particular ob- ject, or to a continual succession of objects, whether or not that continuance is caused by volition, the state of mind is called attention. When it is brought so far under the direction of the mind that it can be di- rected at will, then it is with propriety termed the power of attention. When the attention is exclusively directed to some object of thought, separate from others, or to some component part of the subject separated from its other parts, then it is termed abstraction, by which we un- derstand separate attention. When the attention is directed to our perceptions, or in other words, to the qualities, circumstances, and changes of external objects, as they aflect the mind 76 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. through the medium of the sensitive and associative powers, it is termed observation. The term is one of such familiar and generally appropriate use, that it can scarcely be misunderstood. It is never applied to attention to ideas of absent objects of sense, but solely to attention directed to the present objects of percep- tion, leading to thought respecting them. When the attention of the mind is directed to its own states, affections and operations, it is termed re- flection. As observation commonly implies some ex- ercise of the reasoning faculty, so also does reflection ; but simple attention to our own thoughts and feelings, and to our manner of thinking and feeling, is in the strictest sense reflection. In philosophical investiga- tions it seems best to limit the word to the attentive consideration of what passes within, of the states, affections and operations of the mind. When the mind is employed in the consideration of any object of thought, it is said to be thinking. In a wide sense, the word includes every intellectual opera- tion ; in other words whatever may be termed an act of the understanding, that is, every act of the mind, properly so called, except sensation and feeling. The term thought has two significations, the act of think- ing, and the subject of thinking. Considered as de- noting the subject of thinking, it merely corresponds with notion, opinion, &c. When the mind is left in its trains of thought very much to the operation of the associative power, with- out any direct restraint upon it from without or with- in, its state is termed meditation, which bears nearly the same relation to the understanding, that reverie MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 77 does to the imagination. The term is, however, used where the mind is more actively engaged, particularly on serious subjects of thought. It does not very greatly differ in its import from contemplation, but this term often appears more particularly to refer to the fields of observation rather than of refection. The characteristic faculty or capacity of the under- standing, is the power of comparing the different ob- jects of thought, and discerning the various relations which exist among them ; such as those of identity, similarity, equality, proximity, continuity in time and place, cause and effect, &c. When we perceive these agreements or disagreements we form a judgment, and this is called the act of judging. The judgment clothed in words is called a proposition. Every pro- position expresses a connection existing in the mind of the speaker, between the ideas denoted by the terms of the proposition, as bearing to each other the relation declared by the proposition. Those operations of the understanding which are denominated reasoning are of the same nature with judgment. Such is a brief outline of the science of Mental Phi- losophy. Anything like a complete system of this important branch of human knowledge would of course be inconsistent with the limits of the present volume. What we have chiefly aimed at has been to give such a view of the leading principles of our mental consti- tution as may assist to direct the thoughts of the in- quirer into the right channel, and serve as a founda- tion for his own investigations. The grand point in mental as well as in physical science is, to observe correctly, to discriminate accurately, and to generalize with caution. 78 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. A sound and comprehensive acquaintance with the laws of our mental frame is of incalculable utility in the business of education. It gives to those who con- duct it, correct views as to its objects. It shows the vast importance of early impressions, and of early attention to the culture of habits and dispositions. It points out the best means for forming those characteris- tics of intellect and affection which are essential to happiness and usefulness. In addition to these ad- vantages, it enables us more correctly to appreciate the inestimable value of Christianity, and the strength of the evidences on which it is founded. It leads to the most interesting conclusions respecting the worth of Christian precepts, and the exalted nature of Chris- tian motives. It shows us how Christianity " recon- ciles human nature to itself," and it shows that the truth of it rests upon the well-known laws of the human mind. It directly helps the cause of religion in general, by rendering more obvious the reasons of the divine dispensation, and by the various displays of good- ness and wisdom which our mental phenomena present to us. It tends, beyond all other branches of philoso- phical investigation, to correct, enlarge, and exalt our conceptions of the attributes and character of the Su- preme Being, and to lay a foundation for the most rational and exalted piety. LOGIC. LOGIC is the science of Reasoning. Its purpose is to direct the intellectual powers in the investigation of truth, and in the communication of it to others. It searches out the principles on which argumentation is conducted, and furnishes rules to secure the mind from error in its deductions. It instructs us in the right use of terms, and distinguishes their various kinds. It analyzes the structure of arguments, and shows how their truth may be discovered, or their fal- lacy detected. Lastly, it describes those methods of classification and arrangement which will best enable us to retain and apply the knowledge which we have acquired. It has been remarked that the system of logic, is one of those few theories which have been begun and perfected by the same individual. The history of its discovery, as far as the main principles of the science are concerned, properly begins and ends with Aristotle. OF TEEMS, AND THE OPERATIONS OF THE METO. There are three operations of the mind which are concerned in argument. 1st, Simple Apprehension; 2d, Judgment; 3d, Discourse or Reasoning. 1. Sim- 80 LOGIC. pie Apprehension is the notion or conception of any object in the mind analogous to the perception of the senses. It is either incomplex or complex. Incom- plex apprehension is of one object, or of several with- out any relation being perceived between them, as of a man, horse, cards : complex is of several with such a relation, as of a man on horseback, a pack of cards. 2. Judgment is the comparing together in the mind two of the notions or ideas, whether complex or in- complex, which are the objects of apprehension, and pronouncing that they agree or disagree with each other, or that one of them belongs or does not belong to the other. Judgment is therefore either affirmative or negative. 3. Reasoning or Discourse is the act of proceeding from one judgment to another founded upon it, or the result of it. Words possess no natural, inherent aptness to de- note the particular things to which they are applied, rather than others ; but acquire this aptness wholly by convention, or general agreement among mankind. Had the connexion between the name and the thing been established by nature, there could have been but one language in the world. Language affords the signs by which the operations of the mind are ex- pressed and communicated. An act of apprehension expressed in language, is called a Term : an act of judgment a Proposition: an act of reasoning an Argument or Syllogism as, for example, " Every dispensation of Providence is beneficial, Afflictions are dispensations of Providence, Therefore afflictions are beneficial," is a Syllogism, the act of reasoning being indicated by the word LOGIC. 81 'therefore." It consists of three propositions, each of which necessarily has two terms, as " dispensation of Providence," " beneficial," &c. A syllogism being thus resolvable into three propo- sitions, and each proposition containing two terms, of these terms, that which is spoken of, is called the Sub- ject ; that which is said of it, the Predicate : and these two together are called the terms, or extremes, because, logically, the subject is placed first, and the predicate last ; and in the middle, the Copula, which indicates the act of judgment, as by it the predicate is affirmed or denied of the subject. It is evident that a term may consist either of one word or several. Whatever term can be affirmed of several things, must express either their whole essence which is called the Species, or a part of their essence, namely, either the material part, which is called the Genus, or the formal and distinguishing part, which is called in logic, Differentia, in common discourse, characteristic. Genus and Differentia, put together, make up the Species ; for instance, " rational" and " animal" con- stitute " man ;" so that in reality the Species contains or implies the Genus. Generalization is one of the purposes to which the process of abstraction is applied ; when we draw off or contemplate separately, any part of an object pre- sented to the mind, disregarding the rest, we are said to abstract that part. Thus a person might, when a rose was before his eyes or mind, make the scent a distinct object of attention, laying aside all thought of the color, form, &c. But if, in contemplating several ob- jects, and finding that they agree in certain points, we F 82 LOGIC. abstract the circumstances of agreement, disregarding the differences, and give to all and each of these ob- jects a name applied to them in respect of their agree- ment, that is, a common name, as a " rose," we are then said to generalize. An individual is so called, because it is incapable of logical division, which is a metaphorical expression to signify the distinct or separate enumeration of sev- eral things signified by one common name. This pro- cess is directly opposed to generalization. Definition is another metaphorical word, which literally signifies " laying down a boundary ;" and is used in logic to signify an expression which explains any term so as to separate it from anything else, as a boundary separ- ates fields. Terms are either singular or universal. A singu- lar term is the proper name of some individual per- son, place, or thing, as Napoleon, Boston, &c. Uni- versal terms are names indiscriminately applied to many individual beings by reason of certain proper- ties which they possess in common : as man, city, river, mountain. Universal terms make the greatest part of the words of every language. Their significa- tion is designedly imperfect, comprising only the most common and obvious properties of things. They are abridgments of language, happily contrived to fa- cilitate and expedite the intercourse of society. OF PROPOSITIONS. A proposition is a verbal representation of some perception, act, or affection of the mind; it is judg- LOGIC. S3 ment expressed in words. Logically, it is a sentence indicative, that is, either affirming or denying ; this excludes commands and questions. Propositions are divided into categorical and hypothetical. A categori- cal proposition asserts a thing simply or purely, as " Brutus killed Csesar." A hypothetical proposition asserts it conditionally, as " if Csesar was a tyrant, he deserved death." There are other species of proposi- tions, as affirmative, negative, simple, complex, modal, &c. An identical proposition is one whose subject and predicate express the same idea, as " Richard is Richard ; twelve are a dozen." Sometimes a proposi- tion is identical in shape though not so in substance, as " home is home," by which we understand " home is pleasant." Two propositions are said to be opposed to each other, when, having the same subject and predicate, they differ in quantity or quality, or both ; as when one absolutely denies, in whole or in part, what the other affirms. OF ARGUMENTS. Every argument consists of two parts ; that which is to be proved, and that by means of which it is proved. The former is called, before it is proved, the Question ; when proved, the Conclusion or Inference ; that which is used to prove it, is called the Reason, if stated last, as is often done in common discourse. If the conclusion be stated last, which is the strict logi- cal form, then what is employed to form it, is called the Premiss. 84 LOGIC. Every argument, or syllogism, has three, and only three terms. 1. the Subject, or minor term ; 2. the Predicate, or major term; and, 3. the middle term, with which each of them is separately compared in order to judge of their agreement or disagreement with each other. Every syllogism has three and only three propositions. 1. The major Premiss, in which the major term is compared with the middle ; 2. the minor Premiss, in which the minor term is compared with the middle ; and 3, the Conclusion, in which the minor term is compared with the major. Every asser- tion accompanied by a reason why it is made, con- tains the elements of a syllogism. There are various abridged forms of argument which may be easily expanded into regular syllo- gisms ; such as the Enthymeme, which is a syllogism with one premiss suppressed. As all the terms will be found in the remaining premiss and conclusion, it will be easy to fill up the syllogism by supplying the premiss that is wanting, whether major or minor ; as, " Csesar was a tyrant ; therefore he deserved death." " A free nation must be happy ; therefore the Ameri- cans must be happy." This is the ordinary form of speaking and writing. It is evident that Enthymemes may be filled up hypothetically. When we have a string of syllogisms, in which the conclusion of each is made the premiss of the next, till we arrive at the main and ultimate conclusion of all, we may sometimes state these briefly in a form called Sorites, in which the predicate of the first pro- position is made the subject of the next, and so on to any length, till finally the predicate of the last of the LOGIC. 3D premises is predicated in the conclusion of the subject of the first ; as, " The Indians are a brave people ; brave people are free ; free people are happy ; there- fere the Indians are happy." A Sorites, then, has as many middle terms as there are intermediate propo- sitions between the first and the last ; and consequently it may be drawn out into as many separate syllogisms, FALLACIES OR SOPHISMS. By a Fallacy or Sophism is commonly understood any unsound mode of arguing, which appears to de- mand our conviction, and to be decisive of the ques- tion in hand, when in fairness it is not so. In the practical detection of each individual fallacy, much must depend on natural and acquired acuteness ; nor can any rules be given, the mere learning of which will enable us to apply them with mechanical certainty and readiness ; but still we shall find that to take cor- rect general views of the subject, and to be familiar- ized with scientific discussions of it, will tend, above all things, to engender such a habit of mind as will best fit us for the practice. Fallacies are either logical or non-logical. In every Fallacy, the conclusion either does, or does not follow from the premises. When the conclusion does not follow from the premises, it is manifest that the fault is in the reasoning, and in that alone ; these, therefore, are called Logical Fallacies, as being properly viola- tions of those rules of reasoning which it is the pro- vince of logic to lay down. When the conclusion does not follow from the premises, the Fallacy is called 86 LOGIC. non-logical; of which there are two kinds. 1. When the premises are such as ought not to have been as- sumed. 2. When the conclusion is not the one required, but irrelevant, and proves, instead of the assertion, some other proposition resembling it. The petitio principii, or " begging the question," takes place when a premiss, whether true or false, is either plainly equivalent to the conclusion, or depends on it for its own reception. It is to be observed, how- ever, that in all correct reasoning the premises must virtually imply the conclusion ; so that it is not possi- ble to mark precisely the distinction between the Fal- lacy in question and fair argument : since that may be correct and fair reasoning to one person, which would be to another begging the question ; and since, to one person the conclusion might be more evident than the premises, and to another the reverse. The most plausi- ble form of this fallacy is " reasoning in a circle ;" as, "Napoleon did right because he seized the govern- ment of France, and he seized the government of France because it was right." In such arguments the circle may be very great, that is, it may consist of a great number of propositions ; and the greater the circle, the more difficult is the fallacy of detection. A very long discussion or argument is one of the most effective veils of Fallacy or Sophistry. Like poison it is at once detected when presented in a con- centrated form, but when stated barely in a few sen- tences, a Fallacy would not deceive a child, although it might deceive half the world if dilated into a volume. There are certain kinds of argument recounted and named by logical writers, which although not Falla- LOGIC. 87 cies themselves, become so by being unfairly used ; such as the argumentum ad kominem, or personal argument ; argumentum ad verecundiam, ad populum, &c., all of them regarded as contra-distinguished from the fair argumentum ad rem, or to the point. The argumentum ad hominem is addressed to the peculiar circumstances, character, avowed opinions, or past conduct of the individual with whom you are reason- ing, and therefore has a reference to him only, and does not bear directly and absolutely on the real ques- tion. The argumentum ad verecundiam is an appeal to our reverence for some respected authority, some venerable institution, &c. ; the argumentum ad popu- lum is an appeal to the prejudices, passions, &c. of the multitude ; the argumentum ad crumenam is an ap- peal to a man's purse or private interest, &c. Fallacies are no where more common than in pro- tracted controversy, when one of the parties, after having attempted in vain to maintain his position, shifts his ground as covertly as possible to another, instead of honestly giving up the point. It may not be improper to remark that, logically speaking, Jests are Fallacies ; that is, Fallacies so pal- pable as not to be likely to deceive any one, but yet bearing just that resemblance of argument which is calculated to amuse by the contrast, in the same man- ner that a parody does by the contrast of its levity with the serious production which it imitates. There is, indeed, something laughable even in Fallacies which are intended for serious conviction when they are thoroughly exposed. There are several kinds of jokes and raillery which will be found to correspond with LOGIC. the different kinds of Fallacy. The pun, to take the simplest and most obvious case, is evidently a mock argument founded on a palpable equivocation of the middle term ; and the rest, in like manner, will be found to correspond to the respective Fallacies, and to be imitations of serious argument. INDUCTION. This is a process of reasoning by which we de- duce from an observation of certain known cases an inference with respect to unknown ones. For example " From an examination of the history of several tyrannies, and finding that each of them was of short duration, we conclude that the same is like- ly to be the case with all tyrannies." The sup- pressed major premiss being easily supplied by the hearer, namely, " that which belongs to the tyrannies in question is likely to belong to all." Induction therefore, as an argument, may be stated syllogistically ; but as a process of inquiry with a view to obtain the premiss of that argument, it is out of the province of Logic. Whether the Induction in this last sense has been sufficiently ample, that is, takes in a sufficient number of individual cases ; whether the character of those cases has been correctly ascertained, and how far the individuals we have examined are likely to resemble, in this or that circumstance, the rest of the class, are points that require great judgment and cau- tion ; but this judgment and caution are not to be aided by logic, because they are, in reality, employed in deciding whether or not it is fair and allowable to LOGIC. 89 lay down your premises, that is, whether you are authorized or not to assert that what is true of the individuals you have examined is true of the whole class, and that this or that is true of those individuals. Now the rules of Logic have nothing to do with the truth or falsity of the premises, but merely teach us to decide whether the conclusion follows fairly from the premiss or not. Whether the premises may fairly be assumed or not, is a point which cannot be decided without a com- petent knowledge of the nature of the subject. For example, in Natural Philosophy, in which the circum- stances that in any case affect the result, are usually far more clearly ascertained, a single instance is often accounted a sufficient Induction. Thus having once discovered that an individual magnet will attract iron, we are authorized to conclude that this property is universal. In the affairs of human life a much more extensive induction is required. A naturalist from examination of many horned animals, as sheep, cows, &c., finds that they have cloven feet. Now his skill as a naturalist is to be shown in judging whether these animals are likely to resemble in the form of their feet all other horned animals ; and it is the exer- cise of this j udgment together with the examination of individuals, that constitutes what is usually meant by the Inductive Process, which is that by which we gain new truths, and which is not connected with Logic, being not what is strictly called Reasoning, but Investigation. But when this major premiss is grant- ed him, and is combined with the minor, namely, that the animals he has examined have cloven feet, then he yU LOGIC. draws the conclusion logically, namely, that the feet of all horned animals are cloven. Again, if from several times meeting with ill luck on a Friday any one concluded that Friday, universally, is an unlucky day, we should object to his Induction ; and yet it would not be, as an Argument, illogical ; since the conclusion follows fairly if you grant his implied pre- miss, that the events which happened on those particu- lar Fridays are such as must happen on all Fridays. But we should object to his laying down this premiss, and therefore should justly say that his Induction was faulty, though his Argument was correct. INFERENCE AND PROOF. Reasoning comprehends inferring and proving, which are not two different things, but the same thing regarded in two different points of view, as the road from Boston to Salem, and the road from Salem to Boston. He who infers, proves, and he who proves, infers ; but the word " infer" fixes the mind first on the premises, and then on the con- clusion. The word " prove," on the contrary, leads the mind from the conclusion to the premises. Hence the substantives derived from these words respectively are often used to express that which on each occasion is last in the mind ; Inference being often used to sig- nify the Conclusion or proposition inferred ; and Proof to signify the Premises. To Infer is the business of the Philosopher, to Prove, that of the Advocate. The former, from the great mass of known and admitted truths wishes to elicit any valuable additional truth LOGIC. 91 whatever, that has hitherto been unperceived. The Advocate, on the other hand, has a proposition put before him which he is to maintain as well as he can ; his business, therefore, is tojind middle terms : that of the Philosopher is to combine and select known facts or principles, suitable for gaining from them, conclu- sions which, though implied in the premises, were before unperceived : in other words, for making Logi- cal Discourses. Such are the respective preparatory processes in these two branches of study. They are widely different : they arise from, and generate very different habits of mind, and require a very different kind of training and precepts. The Lawyer or con- troversialist, or in short, the Rhetorician in general, who is in his own province, the most skilful, may be but ill fitted for philosophical investigation, even where there is no observation wanted, when the facts are already ascertained for him. And again, the ablest Philosopher may make an indifferent disputant, especially since the arguments which have led him to the conclusion, and have with him the most weight, may not perhaps be the most powerful in controversy. The most common fault, however, by far, is to forget the Philosopher, and assume the Advocate improper- ly ; it is therefore of great use to dwell on the distinc- tion between the two branches. VERBAL AND REAL QUESTIONS. Every Question that can arise is in fact a question whether a certain Predicate is, or is not, applicable to a certain subject. But sometimes the question 92 LOGIC. turns on the meaning and extent of the terms em- ployed, sometimes on the things signified by them. If it be made to appear, therefore, that the opposite sides of a certain question may be held by persons not differing in their opinion of the matter in hand, then that question may be pronounced verbal, as depending on the different senses in which they respectively employ the terms. If, on the contrary, it appears that they employ the terms in the same sense, but still differ as to the application of one of them to the other, then it may be pronounced that the question is Real, that they differ in opinion of the thing in question. If, for example, two persons contend whether Napo- leon deserves to be called a great man, and it appears that one includes under the term " great," disinterested patriotism, and on that ground excludes Napoleon from the class, as wanting in that quality ; and that the other disputant also gives him no credit for that quality, but understands no more by the term " great" than high intellectual qualities, energy of character, and brilliant actions, it would follow that the parties do not differ in opinion except as to the use of a term, and that the question is Verbal. If on the other hand, it appears that the one does give Napoleon credit for the patriotism which the other denies him, both of them including that idea in the term " great," then the question is Real. It is by no means to be supposed that all Verbal Questions are trifling or frivolous. It is often of the highest importance to settle correctly the meaning of a word, either according to ordinary use, or according LOGIC. 93 to the meaning of some particular writer or class of men ; but when Verbal Questions are mistaken for Real, much confusion of thought and unprofitable wrangling are commonly the result. Nor is it always so easy and simple a task as at first sight it might ap- pear, to distinguish them from each other ; for several objects to which one common name is applied, will often have many points of difference, and yet that name may perhaps be applied to them all in the same sense, and may fairly be regarded as the genus they come under. ^' DEMONSTRATION. A Demonstration is a concatenation of syllogisms, all whose premises are definitions of self-evident truths, or propositions previously established. Demonstra- tion serves as an infallible guide to truth, and by the help of it, the rules of Logic furnish a suffi- cient criterion for distinguishing between truth and falsehood. For since every proposition that can be demonstrated is necessarily true, he is able to dis- tinguish truth from falsehood who can with cer- tainty judge when a proposition is truly demonstrated. To judge of the validity of a demonstration we must be able to distinguish whether the definitions that enter into it are genuine, and truly descriptive of the ideas which they are meant to exhibit ; whether the propo- sitions assumed without proofs as intuitive truths, have really that self-evidence to which they lay claim ; whether the syllogisms are drawn up in due form, and agreeable to the laws of argumentation ; in fine, ''* LOGIC. whether they are combined together in a just and orderly manner, so that no demonstrable propositions serve anywhere as premises unless they are conclu- sions of previous syllogisms. When a proposition is demonstrated, we are sure of its truth. When on the contrary, our ideas are such as have no visible connexion or repugnance, and therefore furnish not the proper means of tracing their agreement or disagreement, then we are sure that exact knowledge is unattainable. OF ANALOGY. Analogy is the foundation of a species of reasoning similar in most respects to analytical induction. They both proceed on the same general principle, that na- ture is consistent and uniform in her operations, so that from similar circumstances similar effects may be expected; and in proportion as the resemblance be- tween the two cases diminishes, the less confidence can be placed in the conclusions made from one to the other. The word Analogy is used with much vague- ness. Sometimes it denotes only a slight and distant resemblance, as that which is found between different species of the same genus. Sometimes it implies a correspondence of different relations, as that which exists between the fins of a fish and the wings of a bird ; the latter bearing the same relation to the air that the former does to the water. Inductive and analogical reasoning are so similar in their nature, that it is not easy to point out their spe- cific difference. The following are the main distinc- LOGIC. 95 tions : First. Induction is a process from several indi- viduals of a class to the whole. Its conclusions there- fore, are always general. But by analogy we argue from one individual being, to another of the same class, and from one species to another. Secondly : the evidence employed in analogy is wholly indirect and collateral; the co-existence of two qualities in one subject affording no direct evidence of their co-exist- ence in any others. But in the inductive process we have direct evidence that the property which we apply to a whole class, exists in many individuals of that class. Analogy is an unsafe ground of reasoning ; and its conclusions should seldom be received without some degree of distrust. When things resemble each other in several important circumstances, we are apt to sup- pose the similitude more extensive than it really is. The following is an example of analogical reasoning. We observe a great similitude between our earth and the other planets. They all revolve round the sun as the earth does. They borrow their light from the sun as the earth does. They revolve on their axes as the earth does, &c. From all this similitude it is not unreasonable to think that they maybe inhabited as the earth is. There are many subjects, both speculative and practical; about which analogy is the only evidence we can employ. When a lawyer is perplexed with a case that falls not fairly within the provisions of any existing statute, and for which his books afford no exact precedent, he is placed under the necessity of tracing remote analogies and correspondencies be- tween this case and others within his knowledge, and 96 LOGIC. of forming his method of procedure by the equivocal evidence furnished by such investigation. To reason correctly on subjects of this nature often requires more caution and discrimination than are usually de- manded in reasoning on the evidence of testimony or experience. It is by the urging of different analogies that the contention of the bar is chiefly carried on, and it is in the comparison, adjustment, and reconciliation of these with one another, that the sagacity and wisdom of the court, are seen and exercised. Analogy, on ac- count of the uncertainty which attends its conclusions, is rarely employed in scientific investigations. DISPOSITION OR METHOD. Method, in Logic, is a proper classification and ar- rangement of our thoughts on any subject, either to facilitate the discovery of new truths, or to assist us in communicating to others, truths already known. The disposition best adapted to the investigation of truth is the Analytic Method, which is therefore denominated the method of invention. That disposition which is best suited to the communication of knowledge, is the Synthetic Method, which for this reason has been called the method of instruction. In both of these methods, ideas are arranged in such order as to ex- hibit their mutual connexions and relations. . Analysis signifies an operation by which some pro- cess of art is retraced, or some compound subject is reduced to its elementary parts. Synthesis implies the act of collecting or putting together. By the first we begin \vith the whole, and proceed by successive steps to the parts of which it is composed. By the LOGIC. 97 last, we begin with the parts, or the most general principles, and proceed by combining them in due order, to make up the whole. Analysis and Synthe- sis are terms of frequent use in many sciences, but they have not invariably the same signification affixed to them. They always, however, denote opposite pro- cesses, one beginning where the other terminates ; and they reciprocally explain each other. A species is formed by analyzing individuals ; and a genus by ana- lyzing species. Though knowledge is chiefly ac- quired by the analytic method, it is most conveniently conveyed to others by the synthetic. The teacher uses one method, while the pupil practises another. CONCLUDING REMARKS. The preceding outline of the science of Logic will enable the reader to comprehend the process of correct reasoning. Though the understanding would be in- capable of any high degree of improvement, without the aid of rules and principles, yet these are insuffi- cient without practice and experience. The powers of the mind, like those of the body, must be strength- ened by use. The art of reasoning skilfully, can be acquired only by a long and careful exercise of the reasoning faculty, on different subjects and in various ways. The rules of Logic afford assistance to this faculty, not less important than that which our animal strength derives from the aid of mechanical powers and engines. They guide its operations, and supply it with suitable instruments for overcoming the diffi- culties by which it is impeded in its search after truth. G LANGUAGE. LANGUAGE, in the proper sense, signifies the expres- sion of our ideas and their various relations, by certain articulate sounds which are used as the signs of those ideas and relations. In a more general sense of the word, Language is sometimes used to denote all sounds by which animals of every kind express their particular feelings and impulses, in a manner that is intelligible to their own species. Nature has endowed every animal with powers sufficient to make known all its sensations and desires, with which it is neces- sary, for the preservation of the individual or the continuance of the kind, that others of the same species should be acquainted. For this purpose the organs of vocal animals are so formed, as upon any par- ticular impulse, to utter sounds of which, those of the same species, instinctively know the meaning. The summons of the hen is instantly obeyed by the whole brood of chickens ; and in many others of the irration- al tribes, a similar mode of communication may be observed between the parents and the offspring, and between one animal and its customary associate. But it is not among animals of the same species only, that these instinctive sounds are mutually understood. It is as necessary for animals to know the voices of their enemies, as the voices of their friends : and the roar- LANGUAGE. 99 ing of the lion is a sound, of which, previous to all experience, every beast of the forest is naturally afraid. Between these animal voices and the language of men, there is, however, very little analogy. Human language is capable of expressing ideas and notions, which there is every reason to believe the brutal understanding cannot conceive. " Speech," says Aristotle, " is made to indicate what is expedient, and what is inexpedient ; and in consequence of this, what is just and what is unjust. It is therefore given to men, because it is peculiar to them that, of good and evil, just and unjust, they, only, possess a sense or feel- ing." The voices of brutes seem intended by nature to express, not distinct ideas or moral conceptions, but only such feelings as it is for the good of the species that they should have the power of making known ; and in this, as in all other respects, these voices are analo- gous, not to our speaking, but to our weeping, laugh- ing, singing, groaning, screaming, and other natural and audible expressions of appetite and passion. Ano- ther difference between the language of men and the voices of brutes, consists in articulation, by which the former may be resolved into distinct elementary sounds or syllables ; whereas the latter, being for the most part unarticulated, are not capable of such a resolution. Hence Homer and Hesiod characterize man by the epithet merops, or " voice-dividing," as denoting a power peculiar to the human species. A third difference between the language of men and the significant cries of brute animals is, that the for- mer is from art, and the latter from nature. Every 100 LANGUAGE. human language is learned by imitation, and is intel- ligible only to those who either inhabit the country where it is vernacular, or have been taught that lan- guage. But the voices of brutes are not learned by imitation ; they are wholly instinctive, and are intel- ligible to all the animals of that species by which they are uttered, though brought together from the most distant countries on earth. Thus, a dog which has never heard another dog bark will, notwithstanding, bark himself; and the barkings or yelps of a Lapland dog will be instinctively understood by the dogs of Spain, Calabria, or any other country. But there is no reason to imagine that a man who has never heard any language spoken, will himself speak ; and it is well known that the language spoken in one country is unintelligible to the natives of another country. It is therefore clearly evident that there is no in- stinctive articulated language ; and it has become a question of some importance how mankind were first induced to fabricate articulate sounds, and to employ them for the purpose of communicating their thoughts. Children learn to speak by insensible imitation ; and when advanced some years in life, they study foreign languages under proper instructors ; but the first men had no speakers to imitate, and no formed language to study ; by what means, then, did they learn to speak ? On this question, only two opinions can be formed. Either language must have been originally revealed from heaven, or it must be the fruit of human invention. The greater part of Jews and Christians, and even some of the wisest Pagans, have embraced the former opinion, which seems to be supported by the authority LANGUAGE. 101 of Moses, for he represents the Supreme Being as teaching our first parents the names of animals. The latter opinion is held by many Greek and Roman writers, who consider language as one of the arts invented by man. The first men, say they, lived for some time in woods and caves, after the manner of beasts, uttering only confused and indistinct noises ; till associating for mutual assistance, they came by degrees to use articulate sounds mutually agreed upon, as the arbitrary signs or marks of those ideas in the mind of the speaker, which he wanted to communicate to the hearer. This opinion has been adopted by several modern writers of high rank, and is certainly in itself worthy of examination. But we can only mention these two hypotheses : the narrow limits of this article will not allow us to offer even an outline of the arguments by which each of them is supported. Language, whatever was its origin, must be subject to perpetual changes, from its very nature, as well as from that variety of incidents which affect everything relating to human society ; and these changes must always correspond with the change of circumstances in the people by whom the language is spoken. When a particular set of ideas become prevalent among any society of men, words must be adopted to express them ; and from these the language must assume its character. Hence the language of a brave and martial people is bold and nervous, although, perhaps, rude and uncultivated ; while the languages of those nations in which luxury and effeminacy prevail, are flowing and harmonious, yet devoid of force and energy of expression. LANGUAGE. But although it may be considered as a general rule that the language of any people is a very exact index of the state of their minds, yet it admits of some particular exceptions. For as man is naturally an imitative animal, and in matters of this kind, never has recourse to invention but through necessity, colo- nies planted by any nation, at whatever distance from the mother country, always retain the same gen- eral sounds and idioms of language, with those from whom they are separated. In process of time, how- ever, the colonists and people of the mother country, by living under different climates, by being engaged in different occupations, and by adopting, of course, different modes of life, may lose all knowledge of one another, assume different national characters, and form each a language to themselves, totally differ- ent in genius and style, though agreeing with one another in fundamental sounds and general idiom. Thus various languages may have been formed out of one parent tongue ; and thus that happy concurrence of circumstances which has raised some languages to a high degree of perfection may be easily accounted for, while many ineffectual efforts have been made to raise other languages to the same degree of excellence. The knowledge of languages constitutes an impor- tant part .of modern learning, and their beauty and defects furnish constant employment to taste. These depend upon the idioms of the different tongues. As the word idiom in relation to language, is often con- founded with genius, it will be necessary to inform the reader that, by idiom, we mean that general mode of arranging words into sentences which prevails in LANGUAGE. 103 any particular language ; and by the genius of a lan- guage we mean the particular set of ideas which the words of any language, either from their formation or multiplicity, are most apt naturally to excite in the mind. Thus although the English, French, Italian and Spanish languages nearly agree in the same general idiom, yet the particular genius of each is remarkably different. The English is naturally bold, nervous, and strongly articulated ; the French is weaker and more flowing; the Italian more soothing and harmonious ; and the Spanish more grave, sono- rous and stately. When we examine the several languages which have been most esteemed in Europe, we find that there are only two idioms among them which are essentially distinguished from each other. All these sometimes follow the one, and sometimes, the other, in whole or in part. The languages which may be said to adhere to the first idiom, are those which in their construction follow the order of nature, that is, express their ideas in the natural order in which they occur to the mind; the subject which occasions the action appearing first, then the action accompanied with its several modifications ; and last of all, the object to which it refers. These may pro- perly be called analogous languages ; and of this kind are the English, French, and most of the modern European tongues. The languages which may be referred to the .other idiom, are those which follow no other order in their construction than what the taste or fancy of the com- poser may suggest; sometimes making the object, LANGUAGE. sometimes the action, and sometimes the modification of the action, to precede or follow the other parts. The confusion which this might cause, is avoided by the particular manner of inflecting the words, by which they are made to refer to the others with which they ought to be connected in whatever part of the sentence they occur, the mind being left at liberty to connect the several parts with one another after the whole sentence is concluded. And as the words may here be transposed at pleasure, those languages may be called transpositive languages. To this class we must, in an especial manner, refer the Latin and Greek. Of all the nations whose memory history has trans- mitted to us, none have been so eminently distinguish- ed for their literary accomplishments and acquaintance with the polite arts as the Greeks ; nor are we as yet acquainted with a language possessing so many advan- tages and so few defects as theirs, which has been the most universally admired, both in ancient and modern times. The original sounds of the Greek language are the most harmonious and the most agreeable to the ear, of any that have hitherto been invented. They are indeed agreeable to every person who hears them, even where the meaning is not understood ; whereas almost all other languages, till they are understood, have a jarring and discordant sound to the ear. The Greek language is of the transpositive kind ; but a people so lively, so acute, and so loquacious, could ill bear the ceremonious restraint to which that form of language naturally subjected them ; and they have therefore, by various methods, freed it, in a great measure, from LANGUAGE. 105 the stiffness which it produced. In inflecting their verbs they sometimes prefix a syllable, and sometimes subjoin one, which, besides the variety that it gives to the sounds of the language, adds greatly to the dis- tinctness, and admits of a more natural arrangement of the words, than in the Latin. The Romans, a people of fierce and warlike dispo- sition, for many ages during the infancy of their republic more intent on pursuing conquests and mili- tary glory than in making improvements in literature and the fine arts, bestowed little attention on their language. Nor was this done till Greece had been subjected to the Roman sway, and the arts and refine- ments of the conquered people began to exert their influence over the conquerors. While the Latin lan- guage acquired more copiousness, harmony and pre- cision, it remained stiflf and inflexible for conversation ; nor could the minute distinction of nice grammatical rules be ever brought down to the apprehension of the vulgar ; whence the language spoken among the lower class of people remained rude and unpolished even down to the overthrow of the Roman Empire. The Latin language is more strictly transpositive than any other known tongue. Its sounds are less harmonious to the ear than those of the Greek, but they are stately and solemn. To one acquainted with the language indeed, the nervous boldness of the thoughts, the harmonious rounding of the periods, the full, solemn swelling of the sounds, so distinguishable in the most eminent writers in that language, which have been preserved to us, all conspire to make it imposing and agreeable. Yet the Latin is less copious 106 LANGUAGE. and more limited in its style of composition than many modern languages, far less capable of precision and accuracy than almost any of them, and infinitely be- hind them all in point of facility for conversation. The modern Italian has been usually called the child of the Latin; and the common notion is that it is the ancient Latin a little debased by a mixture of the barbarous languages of the people who conquered Italy ; but the truth is, the case is directly the reverse ; for this language in its general idiom and fundamental principles, is evidently of the analogous kind, first introduced by those fierce invaders, although it has borrowed many of its words, and some of its modes of phraseology from the Latin. Of all the languages which sprung up from the mixture of the Latins with the northern people on the destruction of the Roman Empire, no other approaches so near to the genius of the Latin as does the Spanish. As the Spaniards have always been remarkable for their military pomp and loftiness of mind, their lan- guage is naturally adapted to express ideas of that sort. Sonorous and solemn, it admits nearly of as much dig- nity as the Latin. For conversation, it is the most elegant and courteous language in Europe. Of the ancient languages, of which any knowledge remains, the Hebrew claims the first place on account of its undoubted antiquity, its peculiar structure, and the strong claims which it seems to have to be con- sidered as either the same with, or the immediate descendant of the primitive tongue. It is a language much admired by thbse who understand it well. The tenses of the verbs are only three, and properly speak- LANGUAGE. 107 ing, the nouns have but one conjugation. The roots of the verbs are for the most part monosyllabic, con- sisting generally of three letters. While the primitive tongue appears to have been carried from southern Asia in various forms to the north and west, its progress southward and eastward gave rise to a different though not less remarkable set of languages. Of these, the most eminent is the San- scrit, a polished and elegant tongue, and fixed in the writings of its classic authors at a period, it is thought, prior to the commencement of the Christian era. Both in the roots of verbs and the forms of grammar, the Sanscrit is found to bear so close an affinity to the Greek and Latin, that philologists do not hesitate to consider it a branch of that primeval tongue which was gradually transplanted into various climates, becoming Sanscrit in India, Peklvi in Persia, and Greek on the shores of the Mediterranean. The San- scrit, though it has now in a great measure ceased to be a living tongue, is considered in India as the lan- guage of science ; and it is pretty certain that it was the immediate parent of the numerous languages still spoken throughout India as far as China. To the eastward of India we find a language totally dissimilar in many respects to those which have already come under notice. The Chinese is made up of monosyllables, and has no inflections for distinguish- ing nouns, verbs or attributes. Its distinct words are very few, but these are varied in pronunciation, by accent, emphasis, and other marks, to fit each of them for expressing many ideas a mode of speech so em- barrassing that recourse must often be had to the 103 LANGUAGE. written character for indicating the particular mean- ing. These written characters amount to 80,000, which are combined from 214 roots or simple char- acters. All these can be traced to simple paint- ings or symbols, and hence the whole written Chi- nese language may be justly compared to the more simple writing of the Mexicans and Egyptians. The native American languages present a striking phenomenon. Throughout the whole of this vast con- tinent, the most astonishing uniformity prevails in the general structure of the multitude of languages spoken by the different aboriginal tribes, although the greatest dissimilarity exists in the sounds of the words. The synthetic character pervades them all. The American Indian does not separate the component parts of the proposition which he utters ; he never analyzes his expressions ; his thoughts rush forth in a troop ; and every complex idea is expressed in a group. It is on the formation of the verb that the inventors of the American languages have principally exercised their genius. In all the idioms the conjugation of this part of speech tends to mark, by particular inflections, the affinity between the subject and the action, or between the subject and the things by which it is surrounded. In all of them the possessive pronouns are formed of sounds annexed to the substantive, either at the com- mencement or the termination, and differ from the personal pronouns. The noun, adjective and pronoun are blended into one word. The power of combination possessed by every original tongue, exists in the Amer- ican languages to an unlimited degree. The savage cannot say separately, father, son, tree or house; the LANGUAGE. 109 noun must be combined with some pronoun or adjec- tive indicating the person to whom it relates, or the quality or circumstance that distinguishes it. The wonderful uniformity shown in forming the conjuga- tions and combining the words from one end of Amer- ica to the other, greatly favors the supposition of a primitive people, the common parent of the indigenous Americans. Their languages present so ingenious and artificial a system of composition that one feels irresistibly disposed to ascribe the invention of them to some ancient civilized nation; not, indeed, nations refined to the modern scale, but such as the Greeks were in the time of Homer, having their moral ideas developed, their sentiments elevated, and their imagi- nation vivid and cultivated ; in short, who had suf- ficient leisure to yield themselves up to meditation, and form abstract ideas. CONCLUDING OBSERVATIONS. It appears that, at the present day, some hundreds, if not thousands, of lan- guages, are spoken over the globe ; the whole, however, divided into certain leading classes, and by far the greater proportion being dialects or altered varieties of original roots. The predominance of any individual language by no means corresponds with either its valuable qualities or its antiquity. The Celtic, for ex- ample, the oldest language of most European coun- tries, is now confined to a few unimportant localities ; the Hebrew, following the fate of the people to whom it belonged, is not spoken as a vernacular by any na- tion ; the ancient Greek has been modernized or altered as a spoken tongue ; and the dignified and so- norous Latin, once spoken by the learned orators of no LANGUAGE. ancient Kome, is also numbered with the dead lan- guages. Out of the wreck of ancient tongues, certain new languages have arisen and taken a lead in the civil- ized world. Of these the French was the first which attained general estimation. It was spoken at courts, became the language of diplomacy, and still is the medium of converse among all refined classes of per- sons throughout continental Europe. Except, how- ever, in two or three of the Swiss cantons, and part of Belgium, it is nowhere the vernacular beyond the confines of France. In short, with all its dissemina- tion, it is limited in its sphere, and is not making new conquests among either barbarous or civilized races. The Italian, though rich and harmonious, is only a local tongue. The Spanish, by means of conquests in Central and South America, has been widely extend- ed ; but its progress has been impeded, though it is still spoken over a large part of America. The next great language of modern Europe is the German, which is spoken over a vast extent of country, and by a large population, and is distinguished for the great riches of its literature. Yet, this eloquent and copious tongue is also not making aggressions on new domains, not becoming universal a circumstance aris- ing from that fixity of habits in its people, which pre- vents them from pushing into new scenes of enterprise. The Dutch. Swedish, Norwegian, and other branches of the Teutonic, are all substantially confined each to its own little spot, from which it does not appear likely that they will ever be extended. The English language, which, as is well known, is LANGUAGE. Ill little else than Saxon, tinged with. Latin, seems to have been reserved for a singular destiny, in no respect fore- seen at the period of its formation. First spreading over the British islands, and pushing out several varie- ties of Celtic, it has heen conducted by national enter- prise to the American continent and islands, where it is now the leading form of speech of civilized men, every- where encroaching upon the native and transplanted tongues. By similar processes of colonization, it has been planted in India and its islands, in Australia, Van Diemen's Land, New Zealand, the southern extremity and various parts of the western coast of Africa, be- sides other possessions of Britain in different parts of the world. Perhaps the most extraordinary incident in its eventful progress has been its plantation in Li- beria, on the coast of Africa, by a society of American colonists, and where it now forms the vernacular of a Negro race, the intelligent descendants of liberated slaves. Thus, while most tongues have been confined, by force of circumstances, to the place of their birth, the English has gone forward in the van of civilization to almost all accessible parts of the habitable earth ; and, preserved from deflection by a common standard literature, will, in all probability, become a universal language. SPECIMENS OF LANGUAGES. With the view of affording the reader an idea of the appearance of some of the principal languages, dead and living, we append the passages from the New Testament composing the Lord's Prayer, in Greek, LANGUAGE. Latin, Italian, Spanish, French, German, Dutch and English. For the sake of clearness, the Greek is printed in the Roman alphabet, the aspirate at the be- ginning of certain words being represented by the let- ter h. The reader will observe the difference between the Greek and Latin words, and how evidently the Latin is the parent of the Italian, Spanish and French ; the latter, however, possessing the least resemblance in orthography and arrangement to its original. He will also have an opportunity of comparing the German with its kindred tongue the Dutch, and both with their relation the Anglo-Saxon or English. Greek. PATER HEMON ho en tois ouranois, hagiastheto to onoma sou. Eltheto he Basileia sou. Genetheto to thelema sou, hos en ourano, kai epi tes ges. Ton arton hernon ton epiousion dos hemin semeron. Kai aphes hemin ta opheilemata hemon, hos kai hemeis aphiemen tois opheiletais hemon. Kai me eiseneng- kes hemas eis peirasmon, alia rusai hemas apo tou ponerou ; hoti sou estin he Basileia, kai he dunamis. kai he doxa, eis tous aionas. Amen. Latin. PATER NOSTER, qui es in ccelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuurn. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cffilo, et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie. Et remitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos remittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos in- ducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Tibi enim est regnum, et potentia, et gloria, in sempiternum. Amen. LANGUAGE. 113 Italian. PADRE NOSTRO, che sei ne' cieli, sia santificato il tuo nome. II tuo regno venga. La tua volonta sia fatta in terra come in cielo. Dacci oggi il nostro pane co- tidiano. E rimettici i nostri debiti, come noi ancora gli rimettiamo a' nostri debitori. E non indurci in tentazione, ma liberaci dal maligno. Percioche tuo e il regno, e la potenza, e la gloria, in sempiterno. Amen. Spanish. PADRE NUESTRO, que estas en los cielos, sea sancti- ficado tu nombre. Vega tu reyno ; sea hecha tua vo- lutad, como en el cielo, ansi tambien en la tierra. Danos oy nuestro pan quotidiano. Y sueltanos neus- tras deudas, como tambien nosotros soltamos a nues- tros deudores. Y no nos metas en tentacion, mas libranos de mal. Porque tuyo es el reyno, y la pote- cia, y la gloria, por todos los siglos. Amen. French. NOTRE PERE qui es aux cieux, ton nom soit sanctifie. Ton regne vienne ; ta volonte soit faite sur la terre, comme au ciel. Donne-nous aujourd'hui notre pain juotidien. Pardonne-nous nos pech6s, comme aussi nous pardonnons a ceux qui nous ont ofienses. Et ne nous abandonne point a la tentation, mais delivre nous du malin. Car a toi appartient le regne, la puissance, et la gloire, a jamais. Amen. German. UNSER VATER in dem Himmel, dein Name werde geheiliget. Dein Reich komme. Dein Wille ge- schehe auf Erden, wie im Himmel. Unser taglicb.es H 114 LANGUAGE. Brod gieb uns heute. Und vergieb uns unsere Schul- den, wie wir unsern Schuldigern vergaben. Und fiihre uns nicht in Versuchung, sondern erlose uns von dem Uebel. Denn dein ist das Reich, und die Kraft, und die Herrlichkeit, in Ewigkeit. Amen. Dutch. ONZE VADER, die in de Hemelen zijt, uw naam worde geheiligd. Uw Koningrijk kome. Uw wil geschiede, Gelijk in den hemel, Zoo ook op de aarde. Geef ons heden ons dagelijksch brood. En vergeef ons onze schulden, Gelijk ook \vij verge ven onzen schuldenaren. En leid ons niet in verzoeking, Maar verlos ons van den booze. Want Uw is het koningrijk, En de kracht, en de heerlijkheid, In de eeuwigheid. Amen. English. OUR FATHER which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen. RHETORIC. Li its primary signification, the word Rhetoric relat- ed to public speaking alone, as its etymology implies ; but as most of the rules for speaking are, of course, equally applicable to writing, an extension of the term naturally took place. The invention of printing, by enlarging the sphere of operation of the writer, has, of course, contributed to the extension of those terms which, in their primary signification, referred only to speaking. Many objects are now accomplished through the medium of the press, which formerly came under the exclusive province of the orator ; and the qualifi- cations reqffisite for success are so much the same in both cases, that we apply the term " eloquent " as readily to a writer as to a speaker, though, etymologi- cally considered, it could belong only to the latter. OF RHETORICAL ARGUMENTS. The first step in Rhetoric is to lay down, in the author's mind, the proposition or propositions to be maintained, clearly and in a suitable form. He who makes a point of ob- serving this rule, and who thus keeps steadily in view the object he is aiming at, will be kept clear, in a great degree, from the common faults of young writers that of entering on too wide afield of discussion, and intro- ducing many propositions not sufficiently connected ; an error which destroys the unity of the composition. 116 RHETORIC. Those are apt to fall into this mistake, who place before themselves a Term instead of a Proposition; and imagine that because they are treating of one thing, they are discussing one question. In an Ethical work, for instance, one may be treating of virtue, while dis- cussing any or all of these questions " Wherein virtue consists," " Whence our notions of it arise," "Whence it derives its obligation," &c. But if these questions were confusedly blended together, or if all of them were treated of within a short compass, the most just remarks and forcible arguments would lose their inter- est and their utility, in so perplexed a composition. Nearly akin to this fault is that of entering on too wide a field for the length of the work, by which means the writer is confined to barren and uninteresting gener- alities. It will be useful for one who is about to lay down his propositions, to ask himself these three questions. 1. What is the fact ? 2. Why, and from %hat cause is it so ? or in other words, How is it accounted for ? and 3. What consequence results from it ? By the word Proposition or Assertion, is to be understood some conclusion to be established for itself, not with a view to an ulterior conclusion ; those propositions which are intended to serve as premises, being called, in allowable conformity with popular usage, Argu- ments. Arguments are divided, 1st, into Regular and Ir- regular. 2dly, into Moral or Probable, and Demon- strative or Necessary. 3dly, into Direct and Indirect. 4thly, into Arguments from Example, from Testi- mony, from Cause to Effect, from Analogy, &c. The RHETORIC. 117 first is a division merely of the forms of stating the arguments. The second is a division according to their subject matter, whether Necessary or Probable, certain or uncertain. The third is a division accord- ing to the purpose for which the arguments are em- ployed ; according to the intention of the reasoner, whether that be to establish directly the conclusion drawn ; or indirectly, by means of an absurd conclu- sion, to disprove one of the premises. The fourth, which is alone a proper division of arguments as such, is a division according to the relation of the subject matter of the premises to that of the conclusion. So far as any cause, popularly speaking, has a ten- dency to produce a certain effect, its existence is an argument for that of the Effect. If the cause be fully sufficient, and no impediments intervene, the Effect in question follows certainly ; and the nearer we approach to this, the stronger is the Argument. This is the kind of argument which produces, when short of absolute certainty, that species of the Probable, usually called the Plausible. This is the only kind of Probability which poets, or other writers of fiction, aim at ; and in such works it is often designated by the term " natural." Writers of this class, as they aim not at producing positive belief, are allowed to take their " causes" for granted ; that is, to assume any hy- pothesis they please, provided they make the effects follow naturally, namely, representing the personages of the fiction as acting, and the events as resulting in the same manner as might have been expected sup- posing the assumed circumstances to have been real. And hence Aristotle, the father of Criticism, estab- 118 RHETORIC. lishes his paradoxical maxim, that impossibilities which appear probable are to be preferred to possibilities which appear improbable. For, as he justly observes, the impossibility of the hypothesis, for example, in Homer, the familiar intercourse of the Gods with mor- tals is no bar to the kind of Probability required, if those mortals are represented as acting in the manner which men naturally would have done under those circumstances. The Probability then, which the writer of fiction aims at, has, for the reason just mentioned, no tenden- cy to produce a particular, but only a general belief ; that is, not that these particular events actually took place, but that such are likely generally to take place under such circumstances. In argumentative compo- sitions however, as the object, of course, is to produce conviction as to the particular point in question, the causes from which our Arguments are drawn, must be such as are either admitted, or may be proved to be actually existing, or likely to exist. In applying arguments, it is to be considered wheth- er the principal object of the discourse be to give sa- tisfaction to a candid mind and convey instruction to those who are ready to receive it, or to compel the assent and silence the objections, of an opponent ; and the arguments must be adapted accordingly. But this distinction is little regarded by ordinary writers and speakers. It is usual to call an argument simply strong or weak, without reference to the purpose for which it is designed ; whereas the arguments which afford the most satisfaction to a candid mind are often such as would have less weight in controversy than KHETORIC. 119 many others, which again would be less suitable for the former purpose. For example, the internal evi- dence of Christianity in general, proves the most satis- factory to a believer's mind, but is not that which produces the greatest effect in the refutation of infidels. The arguments from Analogy, on the other hand, which are the most unanswerable, are not so pleasing and consolatory. Matters of Opinion, as they are called, that is, where we are said not properly to know, but to judge, are established chiefly by Antecedent probability, past facts, &c. Example, however, is not excluded from the proof of matters of opinion, since a man's judg- ment in one case may be aided or corrected by an ap- peal to his judgment in another similar case. It hap- pens frequently, however, that when, in the discussion of matters of opinion, an Example is introduced, it is designed not for Argument, but strictly speaking, for Illustration ; not to prove the proposition in question, but to make it more clearly understood. It is impor- tant to distinguish between these two uses of Example, that on the one hand we may not be led to mistake for an Argument, a mere Illustration, and that on the other hand we may not too hastily charge with soph- istry the writer or speaker who uses such a one sim- ply with a view to illustration. There are two ways in which a Proposition may be refuted : first, by proving that which is contradictory to it ; second, by overthrowing the arguments by which it has been supported. The former of these is less strict- ly and properly called Refutation, being only acci- dentally such, since it might have been employed 120 RHETORIC. equally well had the opposite Argument never exist- ed ; and in fact, it will often happen that a Proposition maintained by one author, may be in this way refuted by another, who had never heard of his arguments. A Proem, Exordium, or Introduction is, as Aristotle has justly remarked, not to be accounted one of the essential parts of a composition, since it is not in every case necessary. In most, however, except such as are extremely short, it is found advisable to premise some- thing before we enter on the main Argument, to avoid an appearance of abruptness, and to facilitate in some degree the object proposed. In larger works this assumes the appellation of Preface or Advertise- ment. Very often it contains appeals to various pas- sions and feelings in the hearers, especially a feeling of approbation towards the speaker, or of prejudice against an opponent who has preceded him ; but this is by no means confined to introductions. OF PERSUASION. Persiiasion is the art of influ- encing the Will ; and Rhetoric is often regarded in a more limited sense as conversant with this topic alone. Persuasion depends, 1st, on Argument, to prove the expediency of the means proposed. 2d, on what is usually called Exhortation ; or the incitement of men to adopt those means, by representing the end as sufficiently desirable. Aristotle, and many other writers, have spoken of appeals to the passions as an unfair mode of influencing the hearers ; in answer to which Dr. Campbell has remarked that there can be no Persuasion without an address to the passions ; and it is evident that he is right, if under the term Passions he included every active principle of our nature. In RHETORIC. 121 order to persuade, there are two things which must be carefully studied by the orator. The first is to excite some desire or passion in the hearers ; the second is, to satisfy their judgment that there is a connexion be- tween the action to which he would persuade them, and the gratification of the desire or passion which he excites. This is the analysis of Persuasion. The former is effected by communicating lively and glow- ing ideas of the subject ; the latter, unless so evident of itself as to supersede the necessity, by presenting the best and most forcible arguments which the nature of the subject admits. In the one lies the pathetic ; in the other the argumentation. These incorporated to- gether, constitute that vehemence of contention to which the greatest exploits of Eloquence ought doubt- less to be ascribed. The most important point to be observed in every address to any Passion, Sentiment, Feeling, &c., is that it should not be introduced as such, and plainly avowed, otherwise the effect will be in a great mea- sure, if not entirely, lost. This circumstance forms a remarkable distinction between Persuasion and Argu- mentation. When engaged in Reasoning, properly so called, our purpose not only need not be concealed, but may, without prejudice to the effect, be distinctly declared. On the other hand, even when the feelings we wish to excite, are such as ought to operate, so that there is no reason to be ashamed of the endeavors thus to influence the hearer, still our purpose and drift should be, if not absolutely concealed, yet not openly declared and made prominent. When this is done, it is as if the speaker should say to his auditors, RHETORIC. " Now I will make you feel as you ought. I will in- spire you with such noble and generous sentiments as you ought to entertain." The mind of the hearer is sure to revolt from the humiliation of being thus moulded and fashioned in respect to his feelings, at the will of another, and is apt perversely to resist the in- fluence of such a discipline. The more gross and illiterate the hearers are, the more avowedly may the speaker address their feel- ings, and the less occasion is there for argument. The more intelligent they are, the more adroitly must he operate on their passions, and the more atten- tive must he be in regard to the justness, or at least the speciousness of his reasoning. Popularity alone, is no true test of the real eloquence of a speaker. To lead a sect, to infuse party spirit, to make men arro- gant, uncharitable and malevolent, is the easiest task imaginable, and which almost any mountebank may perform. But to produce the contrary effect, to subdue the spirit of faction, to inspire equity, moderation and charity into men's sentiments and conduct, with re- gard to others, is the genuine test of eloquence. Of all the prepossessions in the minds of the hearers which tend to impede or counteract the designs of the speaker, party spirit is the most pernicious, being at once the most inflexible and the most unjust. Violent party men not only lose all sympathy with those of the opposite side, but even contract an antipathy to them. This, on some occasions, even the divinest eloquence will not surmount. OF STYLE. The first requisite of Style, not only in rhetorical, but in all other compositions, is Perspicuity, RHETORIC. 123 since language, which is not clear and intelligible, fails so far, of the purpose for which language is em- ployed. Perspicuity is a relative quality, and conse- quently cannot properly be predicated of any work Avithout a tacit reference to the class of readers or hearers for whom it is designed. Nor is it enough that the style is such as they are capable of under- standing, if they bestow their utmost attention. The degree and kind of attention which they have been ac- customed, or are likely, to bestow, will be among the circumstances that are to be taken into the account, and provided for. When a numerous and very mixed au- dience is to be addressed, much skill will be required in adapting the style, arguments, and the whole struc- ture of the discourse to the various minds which it is designed to impress. Extreme conciseness is ill-suited to readers or hear- ers whose intellectual powers and cultivation are but small. It is remarked by anatomists that a nutritive quality is not the only requisite in food, but that a cer- tain degree of distention of the stomach is required to enable it to act with its full powers ; and that it is for this reason that hay and straw and corn must be given to horses and cattle, in order to supply the necessary bulk. Something analogous to this takes place in the generality of minds, which are incapable of thoroughly digesting and assimilating what is presented to them, however clearly, in a very small compass. Many a man is capable of deriving instruction from a mode- rate sized volume when he could not receive it from a small pamphlet, even more perspicuously written, and containing everything to the purpose. It is necessary 124 RHETOEIC. that the attention should be detained a certain time on the subject ; and persons of unphilosophical mind, though they can attend to what they read or hear, are unapt to dwell upon it in the way of subsequent med- itation. On the other hand, a wearisome prolixity is also carefully to be avoided, for this bewilders the reader or hearer, and deprives him of the disposition to attend properly to the discourse. In adapting the style to the comprehension of the illiterate, a caution is to be observed against the ambi- guity of the word " plain," which is opposed sometimes to obscurity, and sometimes to ornament. The vulgar require a perspicuous, but by no means a dry and unadorned style ; on the contrary, they have a taste rather for the over-florid, tawdry and bombastic ; nor are the ornaments of style by any means inconsistent with perspicuity. Metaphor, which is among the principal of them, is indeed, in many cases, the clear- est mode of expression that can be adopted, it being usually much easier for uncultivated minds to compre- hend a similitude or analogy than an abstract term. Hence, the language of savages, as has often been remarked, is highly metaphorical ; and such appears to have been the case with all languages in their earlier, and consequently ruder and more savage stale ; many terms relating to the mind and its operations, being, as appears from their etymology, originally metaphori- cal, though by long use they have ceased to be so. Men frequently admire as eloquent, and sometimes admire the most, what they do not at all, or do not fully comprehend, if lofty and high-sounding words be arranged in graceful and sonorous periods. Those RHETORIC. 125 of uncultivated minds, especially, are apt to think meanly of anything that is brought down perfectly to the low level of their capacity ; though to do this with respect to valuable truths, is one of the most admirable feats of genius. They admire the profundity of one who is mystical and obscure, mistaking the muddiness of the water for depth, and magnifying in their imagi- nations what is viewed through a fog ; and they con- clude that brilliant language must represent some bril- liant ideas, without troubling themselves to inquire what those ideas are. There are three sorts of writing wherein we are liable to be imposed upon by words without meaning. " The first is where there is an exuberance of metaphor. Nothing is more certain than that where temperately and appositely used, metaphor serves to add light to the expression and energy to the sentiment. On the contrary, when vaguely and intemperately" used, noth- ing can serve more effectually to cloud the sense where there is sense, and consequently to conceal the defect where there is no sense to show. And this is the case not only where there is in the same sentence a mixture of discordant metaphors, but also where the metaphoric style is too long continued. -The reason is obvious. In common speech the words are the immediate signs of the thought. But it is not so here ; for when a person, instead of adopting meta- phors that come naturally and.opportunely in his way, rummages the whole world in quest of them, and piles them one upon another ; when he cannot so properly be said to use metaphor as to talk in metaphor, or rather from metaphor runs into allegory, and from RHETORIC. thence into enigma, his words are not the immediate signs of his thought, they are at best, but the signs of the signs of his thought. The second species of writing wherein we are liable to be imposed upon by words without meaning, is that wherein the terms most frequently occurring denote things which are of a complicated nature, and to which the mind is not sufficiently familiarized. Many of those notions which are called by metaphysicians Mixed Modes, come under this denomination. Of these the instances are numerous in every tongue, such as government, church, state, constitution, policy, power, commerce, legislature, jurisdiction, proportion, symmetry, elegance, fyc. It will considerably increase the danger of our being deceived by an unmeaning use of such terms, if they are besides, as very often they are, of so indeterminate and consequently equivocal significations, that a writer, unobserved either by him- self or by his reader, may slide from one sense of the term to another, till by degrees he falls into such appli- cations of it, as will make no sense at all. The third, and we may add, the principal species of composition wherein we are exposed to this ilhu sion, is that in which the terms employed are very abstract, and consequently of very extensive significa- tion. This arises from the nature and structure of language ; the more general any name is, as it com- prehends the more individuals under it, and conse- quently requires the more extensive knowledge in the mind that would rightly apprehend it, the more it must have of indistinctness and obscurity. OF ENERGY. Energy of style comprehends every- BHETORIC. 127 thing that may conduce to stimulate attention, to impress strongly on the mind the arguments adduced, to excite the imagination and to rouse the feelings. It must depend, like perspicuity, on the choice of words, their number, and their arrangement. The principal rule for guiding our choice with a view to energy, is to prefer those words which are the least abstract and general. Individuals alone having a real existence, the terms denoting them will of course make the most vivid impression on the mind, and exercise most the power of conception. The more general the terms are, the fainter is the picture ; the more special they are, the brighter. The same sentiment may be expressed with equal justness and even equal perspi- cuity, in the former way as in the latter, but as the coloring will in that case be more languid, it cannot give equal pleasure to the fancy, and consequently, will not contribute so much either to fix the attention, or impress the memory. The only appropriate occasion for using the more general terms is when we wish to aroid giving a vivid impression ; when our object is to soften what is offen- sive, disgusting, or shocking, as when we speak of an "execution" for a hanging or beheading, of which kind of expressions common discourse furnishes num- berless instances. On the other hand, in Antony's speech over Caesar's body, his object being to excite horror, Shakspeare puts into his mouth the most par- ticular expressions. " Those honorable men " not who killed Caesar but " whose daggers have stabbed Caesar." Metaphors may be employed, as Aristotle has 128 RHETORIC. observed, either to elevate or to degrade the subject, according to the design of the speaker, being drawn from similar or corresponding objects of a higher or lower character. Thus a loud and vehement speaker may be described either as lelloiving or as thunder- ing ; and in both cases, if the metaphor is apt and suitable to the purpose designed, it is alike conducive to energy. Of metaphors, those generally conduce most to energy and vivacity of style, which illustrate an intellectual, by a sensible, object ; the latter being always the most early familiar to the mind, and gen- erally giving the most distinct impression of it. Thus we speak of " unbridled rage," " deep-rooted preju- dice," "glowing eloquence," "a stony heart," &c. And a similar use may be made of the figure called Metonymy, as when we speak of the " throne " or the " crown " for " royalty" the " sivord " for " military violence," &c. But the highest degree of energy is produced by such metaphors as attribute life and action to things inanimate ; and that even when by this means the last mentioned rule is violated, that is, when sensible objects are illustrated by intellectual. The disadvantage here is Overbalanced by the vivid impression produced by the idea of personality or activity ; as when we speak of the rage of a torrent, &c. Thus in the book of Genesis, " the voice of thy brother's blood crieth to me from the ground." This is called Personification. It is a common practice with some writers to endeavor to add force to their expressions by accumu- lating high-sounding epithets, denoting the greatness, beauty, or other admirable qualities of the things RHETORIC. 129 spoken of; but the effect is generally the reverse of what is intended. Most readers, except those of a very vulgar or puerile taste, are disgusted at studied efforts to point out, and force upon their attention, whatever is remarkable ; and this even when the ideas conveyed are themselves striking. In fact, a principal device in the fabrication of the mock-eloquent style, is to multi- ply epithets. With respect to the number of words employed, it is certain that of whatever kind the sentiment be, witty, humorous, grave, animated, or sublime, the more briefly it is expressed, the energy is the greater. As when the rays of the sun are collected into the focus of a burning glass, the smaller the spot is which receives them, compared with the surface of the glass, the greater is the splendor ; so, in exhibiting our sen- timents by speech, the narrower the compass of words is wherein the thought is confined, the more energetic is the expression. Accordingly we find that the very same sentiment which, expressed diffusely, will be admitted barely to be just, expressed concisely, will be admired as spirited. In aiming at a concise style, however, care must be taken that it be not crowded. The frequent recur- rence of considerable ellipses, even when obscurity does not result from this, will produce an appearance of affected and laborious compression, which is offen- sive. The author who is studious of energetic brevity should aim at what may be called a suggestive style ; that is, such as shall put the hearer's mind into the same train of thought as the speaker's, and suggest to him more than is actually expressed, i 130 RHETORIC. PERIODS. By a Period is to be understood any sentence, whether simple or complex, which is so framed that the grammatical construction will not admit of a close before the end of it ; a sentence in which the meaning remains suspended till the whole is finished. A loose sentence, on the contrary, is any one that is not a Period ; any one whose construction Avill allow of a stop, so as to form a perfect sentence at one or more places before we arrive at the end. Periods, or sentences nearly approaching to periods, have the advantage in point of energy. An unexpected con- tinuation of a sentence which the reader had supposed to be concluded, especially if, in reading aloud, he had, under that supposition, dropped his voice, is apt to produce a sensation in the mind, of being disagreeably balked, analogous to the unpleasant jar which is felt when in ascending or descending stairs, we meet with a step more than we expected ; and if this be often repeated, as in a very loose sentence, a kind of weari- some impatience results from the uncertainty when the sentence is to close. In compositions intended to be spoken, the periodic style is much less necessary, and therefore, much less suitable, than in those designed for the closet. The speaker may, in most instances, by the skilful suspen- sion of his voice, give to a loose sentence, the effect of a period ; and though in both species of composition, the display of art is to be guarded against, a more un- studied air is looked for in such as are spoken. Antithesis has been sometimes reckoned as one form of the Period ; but it has no necessary connection with it. One clause may be opposed to another by means RHETORIC. 131 of some contrast between corresponding words in each, whether or not the clauses be so connected that the former could not, by itself, be a complete sentence. Tacitus, who is one of the most Antithetical, is, at the same time, one of the least Periodic of all the Latin writers. There can be no doubt, however, that An- tithesis is calculated to add greatly to Energy. Every- thing is rendered more striking by contrast ; and almost every kind of subject affords materials for con- trasted expressions. If, therefore, the language be so constructed as to bring together these opposites, they throw light on each other by a kind of mutual reflec- tion, and the view thus presented will be the more striking. OFFENCES AGAINST BREVITY AND ENERGY. The first we shall mention is Tautology, which is either a repetition of the same sense in different words, or a representation of anything as the cause, condition or consequence, of itself. Of the first, take the following example from the opening lines of Addison's Cato: " The dawn is overcast the morning lowers, And heavily in clouds brings on the day ! " Here the same thought is repeated thrice in different words. Of the second we shall quote an example from Swift : " So it is that I must be forced to get home, partly by stealth, and partly by force." It is also considered a Tautology to lengthen sentences by coupling words together which are quite or nearly synonymous. This fault is very common, even in writers of reputation. " In the Attic commonwealth," says Swift, " it was the privilege and birthright of every citizen and poet to rail aloud and in public" 132 RHETORIC. It is an invariable maxim that words which add nothing to the sense or clearness, must diminish the force of the expression. Yet there are two occasions where synonymous words may be used. One is where an obscuro term, which we cannot avoid em- ploying, needs to be employed by one that is clearer. The other is where the language of the passions is exhibited. Passion naturally dwells on its object ; the impassioned Speaker always attempts to rise in expres- sion, but when that is impracticable, he recurs to repe- tition and synonymy, and thereby in some measure produces the same effect. The second offence against Brevity is Pleonasm, which implies superfluity, or more than enough. Here, though the words do not, as in Tautology, repeat the sense, they add nothing to it. For instance, " They returned back again to the same city from whence they came forth." The five words in italics are mere expletives. They serve neither for orna- ment nor use, and are therefore to be regarded as mere ineumbrances. Yet every word that is accounted an expletive is not always a pleonasm. Do and did, as the signs of the tenses, are frequently necessary, and sometimes emphatical. The third fault is Verbosity, which differs from Pleonasm in this : in the Pleonasm there are words which add nothing to the sense ; in the Verbose man- ner, not only single words, but whole clauses may have a meaning, and yet it is better to omit them, because what they mean is unimportant, and instead of enlivening the expression, they make it languish. Thero are, however, some occasions on which an RHETORIC. 133 exuberance of words or circumlocution may be allowed for the sake of variety : as the fair sex for women, the lamp of day for the sun. DIGRESSION, TRANSITION, AND AMPLIFICATION. Di- gression is a going off from the subject to some different thing, which may, however, be of service to it. At first, when a subject is of itself flat and dry, or requires close attention, it is useful to relieve and unbend the mind by something agreeable and entertaining. For this reason Quintilian observes that the orators of his time generally made an excursion in their ha- rangues, upon some pleasing topic, between the narra- tion and the proof. Cicero, in his prosecution of Verres for his outrages against the Sicilians, launches out into a beautiful description of the island and re- counts the benefits which the Romans derived from it. His subject did net strictly lead him to this, but his view was to heighten and aggravate the charge against Verres. Digressions ought not to be made without reason, lest they introduce confusion ; and they should not be too long, lest the hearers forget what preceded, before the speaker returns again to his subject. Transitions are often used, not only after a digres- sion, but on other occasions. A Transition is a form of speech by which the speaker, in a few words, tells his hearers, both \vhat he has said already, and what he designs next to say. Where a discourse consists of several parts, this is often very proper in passing from one to another, especially when the parts are of considerable length. It is likewise a great relief to the attention to be told when an argument is finished, 134 RHETORIC. and what is to be expected next ; and therefore we meet with it very frequently in history. But at pres- ent it is chiefly made use of by orators. By Amplification is meant, not barely a method of enlarging upon a thing, but so to represent it in the fullest and most comprehensive view, as that it may in the liveliest manner strike the mind and influence the feelings. Yet to amplify is not to set things in a false light, but to paint them in their just proportion and proper colors, suitable to their nature and qualities. Rhetoricians have observed several ways of doing this. One is to ascend from particular things to gene- ral. Another is to descend from generals to particu- lars ; and a third is by an enumeration of parts, or an illustration by a variety of causes. ELEGANCE. This requires that all coarse and homely words and phrases should be avoided, even at the expense of circumlocution, though they may be the most apt and forcible that the language can supply. Elegance implies a smooth and easy flow of words in respect of the sound of the sentences ; though a more harsh and abrupt mode of expression may often be, at least, equally energetic. Accordingly many men are generally acknowledged to be forcible writers, to whom no one would give the praise of Elegance ; and many who are allowed to, be elegant, are yet by no means vigorous and energetic. SUBLIMITY. This consists both in the thoughts and the language. Lofty and grand sentiments are the basis of the true sublime Longinus, therefore, ad- vises those who aspire to this excellence, to accustom themselves to think upon the noblest subjects. The RHETORIC. 135 sublime is consistent with the greatest plainness and simplicity of expression, as " God said, let there be light, and there was light." Generally speaking, the more plain and natural the images appear, the more they surprise us. Those words and expressions chiefly contribute to form the sublime which are most sonorous, and have the greatest splendor, force, and dignity. Exact rules, of course, cannot be given, to teach a sublime style of writing or speaking. It may be expected that we should say something of Elocution, or the mechanical part of reading and speaking. But that which relates to the management of the voice and gesture, can be learnt only by practice. In other respects the requisites of Elocution correspond with those of Style. The three qualities of Perspi- cuity, Energy and Elegance belong to Elocution, which, in order to be perfect, must convey the mean- ing CLEARLY, FORCIBLY, and AGREEABLY. MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. MORAL PHILOSOPHY is the science of Manners and Duty, which it traces from man's nature and con- dition, and shows to terminate in his happiness. In other words, it is the knowledge of our duty and Felicity, or the art of being virtuous and happy. It is denominated an art, as it contains a system of rules for becoming virtuous and happy. Whoever practises these rules, attains an habitual power or facility of be- coming virtuous and happy. It is likewise called a science, as it deduces those rules from the principles and connections of our nature, and proves that the ob- servance of them is productive of our happiness. Moral Philosophy has this in common with Natural Philosophy, that it appeals to nature or fact, depends on observation, and builds its reasonings on plain, un- controverted experiments, or upon the fullest induction of particulars which the subject will admit. Moral Philosophy inquires, not how man might have been, but how he is, constituted ; not into what principles or dispositions his actions may be artfully resolved, but from what principles and dispositions they actually flow : not what he may by education, habit, or foreign influence, come to be or do, but what by his nature or original constituent principles, he is formed to be a.nd do. MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 137 OF DUTY OR MORAL OBLIGATION. Reason and Conscience are evidently principles different in nature and kind from the Passions and Affections. The passions are mere force or power, blind impulses, acting violently and without choice, and ultimately tending each to their respective objects, without regard to the interest of the others, or of the whole system ; whereas the directing and judging powers distin- guish and ascertain the different forces, mutual pro- portions and relations which the passions bear to each other and to the whole, recognize their several de- grees of merit, and judge of the whole temper and conduct, as they respect either the individual or the species ; and are capable of directing or restraining the blind impulses of passion in a due consistency one with the other, and a regular subordination to the whole system. It is by the end or design of any power or move- ment that we must direct its motions, and estimate the degree of force necessary to its just action. If it wants the force requisite for obtaining its end, we reckon it defective ; if it has too much, so as to be carried be- yond it, we say it is overcharged ; and in either case it is imperfect and ill-contrived. If it has just enough to reach its object, we esteem it right, and as it should be. Let us apply this reasoning to the passions. The defence and security of the individual being the aim of the defensive passions, that security and defence must be the measure of their strength or indulgence. If they are so weak as to prove insufficient for that end, or if they carry us beyond it, that is, raise unne- cessary commotions, or continue longer than is need- 138 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. ful, they are unfit to answer their original design, and are therefore in an unsound or unnatural state. The exercise of fear or of resentment, has nothing desirable in it, nor can we give way to either without painful sensations. But without a certain degree of them, we are naked and exposed. On the other hand, with too high a proportion of them, we are miserable, and often injurious to others. Thus cowardice or timidity, which is the excess of fear, instead of saving us in danger, gives it too formidable an appearance, makes us incapable of attending to the best means of self- preservation, and deprives us of courage, our natural armor. Fool-hardiness, which is the want of a due measure of fear, leads us heedlessly into danger, and lulls us into a pernicious security. Revenge, that is, excessive resentment, by the violence of its commo- tion, robs us of that presence of mind which is often the best guard against injury, and inclines us to pur- sue the aggressor with more severity than self-defence requires. Pusillanimity, or the want of a just indig- nation against wrong, leaves us quite unguarded, and tends to sink the mind into a passive, enervated tame- ness. Therefore, to keep the defensive passions duly proportioned to our dangers, is their natural pitch and tenor. The private passions lead us to pursue some pos- itive species of private good. That good, therefore, which is the object and end of each, must be the measure of their respective force, and direct their oper- ations. If they are too weak or sluggish to engage us in the pursuit of their several objects, they are evi- dently deficient ; but if they defeat their end by their MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 139 impetuosity, then are they strained beyond the just tone of nature. Thus vanity, or an excessive passion for applause, betrays us into such meannesses and little arts of popularity as make us forfeit the honor we so anxiously court. On the other hand, a total in- difference about the esteem of mankind removes a strong guard and active spur to virtue, and lays the mind open to the most degrading influences. There- fore, to keep our private passions and desires propor- tioned to our wants, is the just measure and pitch of this class of affections. In like manner as the public or social affections point at the good of others, that good must be the measure of their force. As every kind of affection points at the good of its particular object, it is possible that there may be sometimes a collision of interests or goods. Thus the regard due to a friend may inter- fere with that which we owe to the community. In such a competition of interests it is evident that the greatest is to be chosen, and that is the greatest inter- est which ^contains the greatest sum or aggregate of public good greatest in quantity as well as duration. This, then, is the common standard by which the re- spective forces and subordinations of the social affec- tions must be adjusted. Thus the constitution, or just economy of human nature, consists in a regular subjection of the pas- sions and affections to the authority of conscience, and the direction of reason. That subordination is regular when the proportions just mentioned are maintained. The natural state, or the sound and vigorous con- stitution of any creature, or the just economy of 140 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. its powers, we call its health and perfection ; and the acting agreeably to .these, its virtue or goodfiess. Therefore the health and perfection of man must lie in the aforesaid supremacy of conscience and reason, and in the subordination of the passions to their au- thority and direction. And his virtue or goodness must consist in his acting agreeably to that order or economy. To describe, therefore, what, perhaps, we cannot de- fine ; a state of moral obligation is that state in which a creature endowed with such senses, powers and affections as man, would condemn himself, and think he deserved the condemnation of all others, should he refuse to fulfil it ; but would applaud himself and think he deserved the approbation of all others upon comply- ing with it. And we call him a Moral Agent who is in such a state, or is subject to moral obligation. A morally good action, then, is to fulfil a moral obliga- tion, knowingly and willingly ; and a morally bad action, or an immoral action, is to violate a moral obli- gation knowingly and willingly. If it be asked, after all, how we come by the idea of Moral Obligation or Duty? we may answer that we come by it in the same way as by our other original and primary perceptions. We receive them all from nature, or the great Author of nature. For this idea of moral obligation is not a creature of the mind, or . dependent on any previous act or volition ; but arises on certain occasions, or when certain other ideas are presented to the mind, as necessarily, instantaneously and unavoidably as the sensation of pain or pleasure when excited by their respective causes. MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 141 " Every one feels," says Dr. Wayland, " that it is wrong to lie, to steal, to murder, to be cruel. Every one feels that it is right to tell the truth, to be honest, affectionate, kind and grateful. And if any person will think for a moment, he will perceive that there are certain results which always follow these two sorts of actions. If any one do wrong, as for instance, if he lie, or steal, or abuse another person, he feels a pecu- liar sort of unhappiness which is called the feeling of guilt ; he is afraid of being detected, he wishes he had not done it, and if he be detected, he knows that every one dislikes and despises him for his conduct. And, on the contrary, if he have done right, as if he has told the truth, has been grateful, or has returned good for evil, he feels a peculiar sort of pleasure ; he is satisfied with himself, and knows that all men will look upon him with respect." Now that faculty by which we perceive our actions to be right or wrong, and which begets a feeling of pleasure or of pain, as we may have done well or ill, is denominated conscience. We are told of a follower of Pythagoras, who had bought a pair of shoes of a cobbler, for which he promised to pay him at some future day. He went with the money on the day ap- pointed, but found that the cobbler had, in the interim, departed this life. Without saying anything of his errand, he withdrew, secretly rejoicing at the oppor- tunity thus unexpectedly afforded for obtaining a pair of shoes for nothing. There was something in him, however, which would not permit him to remain quiet under such an act of injustice ; so, taking up the money, he returned to the cobbler's shop, and casting 142 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. in the coin, said, " Go thy way, for though he is dead to all the world beside, he is alive to me." Such is conscience, such the principle which perceives and enforces moral obligation. OF THE DISTINCTIONS OF DUTY AND VIRTUE. Man owes one class of duties to himself; a second to soci- ety ; and a third to God. The duties which he owes to himself are founded chiefly on the defensive and private passions which prompt him to pursue whatever tends to private good or happiness, and to avoid or ward off whatever tends to private ill or misery. A due adjustment of our private passions to our wants, we call temperance, which, in this large sense of the word, always implies a just balance or command of the passions. The sec- ond class of duties arises from the public or social affec- tions, the just harmony or proportion of which to the dangers and wants of others, and to the several rela- tions we bear, commonly goes by the name of justice. This includes the whole of our duty to society, to our parents, to the general polity of nature, particularly gratitude, friendship, sincerity, natural affection, be- nevolence, and the other social virtues. The third class of duties respects the Deity, and arises from the public affections, and the several glorious relations which he sustains toward us as our Creator, Benefac- tor, Lawgiver Judge, &c. The duties resulting from these relations are reverence, gratitude, love, resigna- tion, dependence, obedience, worship and praise, which must maintain some sort of proportion to the grandeur and perfection of the object which we venerate, love and obey. This proportion or harmony is expressed by the general name of piety or devotion. MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 143 MAN'S DUTY TO HIMSELF. Every creature, by the constitution of nature, has a propensity to love him- self, to pursue whatever tends to his preservation and happiness, and to avoid whatever tends to his hurt and misery. Being endued with sense and perception, he must necessarily receive pleasure from some objects, and pain from others. Those which give pleasure, are called good, and those which give pain, evil. To the former he feels that attraction or motion which we call desire or love; to the latter that impulse called aversion or hatred; to those which suggest neither pleasure nor pain, he feels indifferent. Besides those sorts of objects which we call good, merely and solely as they give pleasure, or are the means of procuring it, there is a higher and nobler species of good towards which we feel that peculiar movement called approba- tion or moral complacency, and which we therefore de- nominate moral good. Such are our affections and the actions consequent upon them. The goods of the body, or of the external senses, hold the lowest rank in the gradation or scale of goods. These we have in common with the brutes. Goods consisting in exterior social connexions, as fame, for- tune, power, civil authority, succeed next, and are chiefly valuable as the means of procuring natural or moral good, but principally the latter. Goods of the intellect are still superior, as taste, knowledge, memo- ry, judgment. The highest are moral goods of the mind, directly and ultimately regarding ourselves, as prudence, fortitude, benevolence, piety and command of the appetites and passions. These are the great objects of our pursuit, and the principal ingredients of our happiness. 144 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. The difference between self-love as an innocent part of our constitution, and selfishness, or a vicious dispo- sition, may be easily seen. Self-love properly directs our choice of objects where all are equally innocent. Selfishness is the same disposition to promote our own happiness upon the whole, but it disposes us to seek it in objects over which we have no just con- trol, that is, which are not innocent, and which we could not enjoy without violating the right of our neighbor. When conscience speaks, therefore, the voice of self-love must be silent ; that is to say, we have no right to seek our own happiness in any man- ner at variance with moral obligation. Man was de- signed to be made happy by the gratification of his de- sires ; but when the gratification of desire is at vari- ance with virtue, a greater happiness is to be obtained by self-denial. Or in other words, our greatest happi- ness is to be obtained, not by the various modes of self-gratification, but by simply seeking the good of others. DUTIES TOWARD SOCIETY. Man's social duties are first towards his parents, next towards his brethren and sisters, &c., till they take in the whole human race. We have room only to speak of a small num- ber of these obligations. The conjugal duty is one of the most important. It demands mutual fidelity to the marriage-bed, as dis- loyalty defeats the very end of marriage, dissolves the natural cement of the relation, weakens the moral tie, the chief strength of which lies in the reciprocity of the affection, and by making the offspring uncertain, diminishes the care and attachment necessary to their education. MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 145 The duties of friendship are a mutual esteem of each other, unbribed by interest, and independent of it ; a generous confidence, as far distant from suspi- cion as reserve, an inviolable harmony of sentiments and dispositions, of designs and interests ; a fidelity un- shaken by the changes of fortune, a constancy unalter- able by distance of time or place, and a resignation of personal interest in favor of one's friend. Courtesy, good neighborhood, affability and the like duties, which are founded on our private social con- nexions, are no less necessary and obligatory to crea- tures united in society, and supporting and supported by each other in a chain of mutual want and depend- ence. This inferior order of virtues unites the parti- cular members of society more closely, and forms the lesser pillars of the civil fabric, which in many in- stances, supply the unavoidable defects of laws. Justice, or fair-dealing, or in other words, a disposi- tion to treat others as we would be treated by them, is a virtue of the first importance. It is the cement of society, or that pervading spirit which connects its members, inspires its various relations, and maintains the order and subordination of each part of the whole. Without it, society would become a den of thieves and banditti, hating and being hated, devouring and being devoured, by one another. Upon a subject of such importance it may be well to enter into a few details : Justice implies in its general sense the obligation to render to every one what is his due. In common ac- ceptation, it is the duty of being honest and fair in all our dealings. But it has a farther signification. It not only binds us to deal equitably in matters of pro- j MORAL PHILOSOPHY. perty, but requires us to respect the feelings and char- acter of others. If we take an unfair advantage of a man in a bargain, we cheat him ; if we take away his goods or merchandise, without his consent, we are guilty of theft. If we forcibly take away another's purse, we are a robber. For all these acts of injus- tice, human laws provide punishment ; there are com- paratively few, therefore, who will be guilty of such crimes. But there are many persons who would be shocked at the idea of cheating, thieving, or robbing in matters of property, who have no scruples in cheat- ing another of what might be due to his character of stealing away his peace of mind or robbing him of his fair fame. But it should not be forgotten that justice requires fair dealing in the one case as well as the other : that if human laws watch over the rights of property, the all-seeing eye of justice watches over the subtler rights and possessions of the heart. It is true we have walls and fences to protect our lands ; bolts and bars to secure our merchandise ; we have also statutes against acts of injustice in respect to property : we have courts to try, and prisons to punish offenders against these laws ; and all this ar- ray of power admonishes every member of society to be just in the common business of life. But there are dearer possessions than those of lands and merchan- dise, which are thus protected. " He who steals my purse steals trash, but he who robs me of my good name leaves me poor indeed." And how shall these delicate interests be defended ? We know of no other mode than by an habitual inculcation of these truths, beginning at the fireside, and carrying it through every step in the formation of character. MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 147 Resignation and obedience to the laws and orders of the society to which we belong are political duties necessary to its very being and security, without which it must soon degenerate into a state of licen- tiousness and anarchy. The welfare, nay the nature of civil society, requires that there should be a subor- dination of orders, and diversity of ranks and conditions in it ; that certain men, or orders of men, be appoint- ed to superintend and manage such affairs as concern the public safety and happiness ; that all have their particular provinces assigned them ; that such a sub- ordination be settled among them that none of them may interfere with one another ; and finally, that certain rules or common measures of action be agreed on, by which each is to discharge his respective duty to gov- ern or be governed, and all may concur in securing the order and promoting the felicity of the whole poli- tical body. These rules of action are the laws of the community ; and these different orders are the several officers or magistrates appointed by the public to ex- plain them, and superintend their execution. In con- sequence of this adjustment of things, it is the duty of each individual to obey the laws enacted, and to sub- mit to the executors of them with all due deference, according to their rank and station. As the object of society is the common interest and welfare of the people associated, this object must of necessity be the supreme law, or common standard, by which the rules of action of the several members of the society are to be regulated. Therefore a society, or government, or republic, truly worthy of the name, must be such a one as con- 148 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. sists of freemen choosing, or consenting to, laws them- selves ; or since it happens that they cannot assemble and act in a collective body, delegating a sufficient number of representatives, such a number as shall most fully comprehend, and most equally represent, their common feelings and common interests. A so- ciety thus constituted by common reason, and formed on the plea of a common interest, becomes immediate- ly an object of public obedience and inviolable attach- ment. Every citizen of a society surrenders the right of redressing his wrongs, wholly to that society as a po- litical body. Aggression and injury in no case justi- fy retaliation. If a man's house be attacked, he may indeed forcibly repel the robber, because in this case society is unable at the instant to assist him. But he is at liberty to put forth no other effort than that ne- cessary to protect himself, or to secure the aggressor for the purpose of delivering him over to the judgment of society. If, after having secured him, he puts him to death, it is murder. A citizen is bound to obey all laws made in accord- ance with the constituted powers of society. Hence we are in no manner released from this obligation by the belief that the law is unwise or inexpedient. We have confided the decision of this question to society, and we must abide by that decision. To do other- wise would be to constitute every man the judge in his own case, that is, to allow every man to obey or disobey, as he pleased, while he expected from every one implicit obedience. But in case of overbearing tyranny and intolerable MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 149 oppression on the part of the existing government, the people have the right to resume their delegated power and call their trustees to an account, to resist usur- pation and extirpate tyranny. Resistance, therefore, being undoubtedly lawful in extraordinary emergen- cies, the question can only be with regard to the de- gree of necessity which can justify resistance. This should be, indeed, the last refuge in desperate cases, and only resorted to when the public is in the highest danger from violence and tyranny. Resistance to au- thority is commonly attended by civil war ; and civil war is, of all the evils which men inflict upon them- selves, one of the most horrible. PATRIOTISM. Such is the general theory of the re- lations which men bear to government ; but we wish to enforce these views by a few details. Patriotism, or love of country, is a sentiment which pervades al- most every human breast, and induces each individual to prefer the land of his birth, not because it is better than another country, but merely because it is his country. This sentiment may be illustrated by a va- riety of anecdotes. Many of the Swiss, on account of the poverty of their country, are induced to seek military service in foreign lands. Yet, in their volun- tary exile, so strong is their affection for their native hills, that whole regiments have been said to be on the point of desertion, in consequence of the vivid home- recollections excited by one of their national songs. A French writer informs us that a native of one of the Asiatic isles, amid the splendors of Paris, behold- ing a banana tree in the Garden of Plants, bathed it with tears, and seemed for a moment to be transport- lOU MORAL PHILOSOPHY. ed to his own land. The Ethiopian imagines that God made his sands and deserts, while angels only were employed in forming the rest of the world. The Maltese, insulated on a rock, distinguish their island by the appellation of " The Flower of the World." The Javanese have such an affection for the place of their nativity, that no advantages can induce them, particularly the agricultural tribes, to quit the tombs of their fathers. The Norwegians, proud of their barren summits, inscribe upon their rix dollars. " Spir- it, loyalty, valor, and whatever is honorable, let the world learn among the rocks of Norway." The Es- quimaux are no less attached to their frigid zone, es- teeming the luxuries of blubber oil for food, and an ice cabin for habitation, above all the refinements of other countries. Such are some of the exhibitions of this universal sentiment in less refined nations. In a state of higher civilization, it becomes a more exalted passion, and is thus beautifully expressed by Scott : " Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land? "Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wand'ring on a foreign strand ? If such there be, go, mark him well ; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim j Despite those titles, power and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 151 And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored and unsung." It might at first seem that patriotism, which implies a preference of one country over another, was opposed to philanthropy, which embraces in its generous scope the whole human family. But a consideration of the practical effect of patriotism will lead us not merely to dismiss all distrust, but to admire that dispensation of providence, by which the inhabitants of every land, whether it be a region of sterile mountains, or an in- hospitable climate of snow, or a land flowing with milk and honey, or a desert of sand, are attached to the soil where their lot is cast. In the first place, this love is a source of contentment and happiness, even though it may be founded in ignorance or false com- parisons ; and, in the second place, it excites the peo- ple to seek the good and promote the prosperity of the inhabitants. It stimulates them to act individually and unitedly, and, in cases of emergency, to put forth great efforts in the sacred cause of country, whether it be to realize some desirable object, or avert some ' threatened evil. Thus it would appear that, by implanting this sen- timent in the breast of man, God has provided an ac- tive agent, the design and tendency of which are to cultivate and cherish the advantages which each coun- try possesses ; to develop its resources, to increase its comforts and riches, to raise the standard of civiliza- tion, and, in short, to promote its true glory. Such is the design and such the tendency of that sentiment called patriotism ; and if it is more circumscribed in lOZ MORAL PHILOSOPHY. its view than philanthropy, it is far removed from self- ishness, and the bosom in which it dwells must be ex- alted and purified, in proportion to the sway it is per- mitted to exercise over the heart. Patriotism, love of country, then, is not merely a justifiable sentiment, but it is also ennobling to the soul which feels it, and beneficial to the community which calls it into exercise. It is alike dictated by nature and sanctioned by reason and religion. It be- comes, therefore, a fit object of attention to all enlight- ened minds, and is worthy of the particular consider- ation of every one charged with the education of youth. While springing up spontaneously in the heart, it should be strengthened by all those means which are known to exert a strong influence on the young mind. Among these there is none, perhaps, more efficient than the exhibition of fine examples ; and the best and most copious source of them is to be found in the story of our revolution. The striking instance afforded by Mr. Reed, the president of the continental congress, who, although offered a large bribe by some British agents to betray his cojuntry, replied, " Gentlemen, I am poor, very poor, but, poor as I am, your king is not rich enough to buy me ! " is one of those which not only furnishes a vivid illus- tration of high patriotism, but is likely to excite in. the breast of youth a glow of admiration and an ar- dent spirit of emulation. DUTIES OF THE AMERICAN CITIZEN. Whatever may be thought of it, the government of a country is a mat- ter of the greatest consequence. It is of consequence not only in a general point of view, but to each indi- MORAL PHILOSOPHY. vidual. There is not a living soul so isolated that the influence of government, good or bad, may not reach him ; and, in point of fact, there are very few men, women or children, of any generation, who are not in a serious degree affected by government. We here speak not only of the form of government, but of the administration of it. The first is indeed of importance, but the latter is no less important ; indeed, it has even been asserted that whatever government is best administered, is best. For the administration of our government, the people are responsible in a high degree, for they elect the individuals who administer it, and as these are good or bad, fit or unfit, so is the administration of it. Now let it be considered, for a moment, what is meant by government, and we shall then see how im- mediately each individual is interested in it, and how deeply he may be affected by it. Government, then, embraces the making and enforcing all those laws which are designed to protect life ; all those laws which are designed to protect property ; all those laws which should insure to a man the peaceable possession of his home, his house, and his fireside which should enable him to collect around him his family in secur- ity, and feel persuaded that the fruit of his labor, his skill, and his care is so guaranteed to him, that he may appropriate it to his and their comfort and hap- piness. Nor is this all the benefit designed to be conferred on us by government. It is this which should provide a system of general education ; it is this which should protect us in the free exercise of our religious opinions ; 154 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. it is this which should enforce justice between man and man : it is this which should regulate commerce, and render it a source of national and individual wealth ; it is this which should protect the arts and sciences, and give encouragement to manufactures and agriculture, thus increasing the comforts and enjoy- ments of the community. Such a thing is government ; it is charged with all the great interests of the community. It is designed for good ; but let us consider- that it is as pervading as the air we breathe ; that, if we bar our doors, it will still enter our houses, and exert an influence upon all our interests. But government is not a machine that goes regularly on, necessarily accomplishing its des- tined task. If it be compared to a machine, it is one that needs skilful and diligent care. It may be neg- lected, get into disorder, and fail of its proper object ; or, if wickedly or selfishly managed, it may produce extensive and fatal mischief. Government, then, though destined for good, is only good when well and wisely managed. When ill managed, it sometimes fails of its real design, and, in- stead of good, produces real evil. To apply it to our own case, suppose that the government falls into the hands of bad men, who only care for themselves, and are willing to sacrifice the good of the people to their selfish schemes. What then is our situation ? It is obvious that our lives, our property, the peace of our homes and our firesides, the produce of our labor, the great cause of education, the rights of conscience, the interests of justice, the paramount interests of com- merce, agriculture and manufactures all the great MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 155 sources of wealth and prosperity, all the dearest inter- ests of the heart are committed to the mercy of men who have no mercy ; men who look upon the people as their servants and their slaves, to be gulled and cheated, and used as their own interests may dictate ! Such must be our situation when the government falls into the hands of artful, selfish and designing men. Nor can our interests be much safer in the hands of a weak, ignorant or incompetent set of rulers. We have compared government to a machine. It may be illustrated by a manufactory filled with various complicated engines, all of which are set in motion by a fall of water, acting upon one great wheel. Under a skilful and vigilant superintendent, the work goes regularly and safely on ; the great wheel communi- cates its action to the others, and a vast complication of wheels, and bands, and cogs, proceeds, with differ- ent degrees of celerity, indeed, but each according to its design, and each accomplishing the end for which it was intended. Thus the whole establishment goes on with safety and success. But suppose that the superintendents are ignorant, and do not understand the machine ; or suppose they are negligent and inat- tentive. Disorder will soon creep into all parts of the establishment. There will be the grating of wheels here, the rending of bands there, and the crush of cogs in another place. The great wheel will acquire an irregular motion ; and the whole work, so lately a beautiful and useful contrivance, will rush into a state of anarchy and utter ruin. This illustration cannot be said to impute too much consequence to government. Let us go to any coun- 156 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. try, ill governed, and compare it with one well gov- erned. Look at Turkey, and see what desolation covers three fourths of its surface, and that too where the soil and climate are celebrated for the highest fer- tility ! Look into society, and see how dreary and comfortless is the condition of the greater part of the people. Compare this with England, where the soil is naturally poor and the climate forbidding, and see what a difference. In the one case, poverty, distrust, selfishness and ignorance are characteristics of the people, while wealth, frankness, liberality and intelli- gence are common to them in the other. And a great part of this difference arises from the difference of government. A good government is, then, a great blessing, but a bad government is a curse. The Turks have a striking proverb, which bitter experience has taught them no grass groics where the sultan's horse has set his foot. In other words, prosperity ceases and desolation comes wherever a selfish and unprincipled ruler has sway. If these things are so, what does patriotism dictate to an American citizen ? These are endowed with the right to act in the choice of our rulers. No one is depriv- ed of this right, and no one, consequently, is free from the responsibility of using it, and using it wisely. All may vote, and many may exert influence upon other voters. This, then, is the situation of every American citizen he has the power to exert a greater or less in- fluence upon the choice of those men who govern the country ; and upon this choice depend the happiness, the peace, the prosperity, of nearly twenty millions of people! Such is the vast interest at stake, and MORAL PHILOSOPHY. such the high responsibility which is laid upon the soul of every citizen of this free country. No one can shrink from the duties which follow from this state of things. He who uses his vote or his influence self- ishly, basely betrays his country ; he who uses them inconsiderately, puts at hazard the interests of his country ; he who neglects or refuses to use them, de- serts his country, and, like a sentinel, flies from his post in the hour of need. Let us then draw a few inferences, and make a few observations as to the political duties of each American citizen. 1. It is the duty of every American citizen to vote for public officers. The theory of our government in- volves the doctrine that the people are capable of gov- erning themselves. And so they doubtless are. But what will become of the country if the people refuse or neglect to vote ? The safety of our country de- pends on having a full and fair representation at the polls of all classes rich and poor, the laborer and the capitalist, the refined and the simple. If the polls are given up to any one class, will the rights of all be se- cured ? No. Let every citizen vote then ; it is his bounden duty. 2. It is his duty in voting to lay aside selfish and narrow views, and act as he conscientiously thinks best for the good of the \vhole country. A man who carries his private grudges, and particularly his own little plans and schemes to the ballot box, is unworthy the privilege of a citizen. 3. He should act for no party, and ivith no party, only so far as that party tends to promote the good of the whole country. 158 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 4. Public officers being public agents or trustees, to perform certain duties, a voter should choose for the public as for himself; he should take care never to aid in electing an artful and dishonest man, for he may betray. He should try a candidate, strictly, by the questions proposed by Mr. Jefferson, Is he capa- ble ? Is he honest ? Is he a friend to the Constitution ? 5. The Scripture says, " put not thy trust in princes." We may add, put not thy trust in politicians ! Our real safety is in the honesty of the people. If they are dishonest, or corrupt, or ignorant, or negligent, we are exposed to ruin. The child will partake of the dis- eases of the parent ; the government of the country, where the people rule, will be like the people, good or evil. Is there any man among us so bad as to aid in debasing, corrupting, destroying our government ? Let each voter read, examine, ponder, and act intelli- gently and honestly. Let the people act in such a manner as to make politicians see that honesty is their best policy, and then they will be honest not other- wise. 6. Political virtue, like all other virtue, consists partly in self-sacrifice, or rather in considering our own interests only as they make part of the whole. The spirit of '76 was of this character ; it was a spirit of self-forge tfulness, self-denial, self-sacrifice. These times of peace may not demand the same acts of virtue, but they demand the same kind of virtue. Let no man, who values a pure conscience, or seeks a good name, be found sacrificing the country to his own love of office, or power, or fame. Let no one, who values his independence, be made the dupe of such as do these things. MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 159 7. This right of voting is a great matter. It is a thing for which millions are yearning in other lands. Let us not abuse it. It is a vast power. It gives into our hands the destiny of millions. Will any one trifle with it ? Will any one abuse it ? Will any one sell it ? Who has the knavery to confess to himself or the world that he will lay this mighty talent up, unused and useless, in a napkin ; or that he will use it accord- ing to his prejudices ; or make it the instrument of his own ambition ; or throw it away upon friendship, or family aggrandizement, or any other narrow, per- sonal consideration ? Who is the man that can look into his own bosom and confess that he can forget his country, forswear patriotism, and do these, or any of these things ? 8. If it is said that it is sometimes difficult to choose between candidates for office, let us bear in mind one rule that it is never safe to promote the political schemes of designing, selfish managers. An artful, cunning intriguer for office is always to be shunned by honest voters. 9. We who vote are acting for ourselves and our children. We may spoil the great and good work of our forefathers ; we shall do it if we are not careful ! Who will aid in the destruction of this fabric, which has excited the admiration of the world, and go into the land of spirits, and say to their sires and grand- sires, we have done what we could to destroy your work ? Such appear to be the views which every American citizen should take of his political duties, and in these, at the proper age, ought not fathers carefully to instruct 160 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. their sons ? Ought they not to teach them that we are as truly bound to be honest and true in dealing with the country as with our fellow-men? Ought they not to warn them against the infamous maxim, current with some people, that " all is fair in poli- tics?" OF MAN'S DUTIES TOWARD GOD. Of all the rela- tions which the human mind sustains, that which sub- sists between the Creator and his creatures, the Supreme law-giver and his subjects, is the highest and most interesting. This relation arises from the nature of a creature in general, and the constitution of the human mind in particular, the noblest powers and affections of which point to an Universal Mind, and would be imperfect and abortive without such a direction. The mind, in its progress from object to object, from one character and prospect of beauty to another, finds some blemish or deficiency in each, and soon exhausts or grows weary and dissatisfied with its subject. It sees no character of excellency among men equal to that pitch of esteem which it is capable of exerting, no object within the compass of human things ade- quate to the strength of its affections ; nor can it stay anywhere in this self-expansive progress, or find repose after its highest flights, till it arrives at a Being of unbounded greatness and worth, on whom it may employ its sublimest powers without exhausting the subject, and give scope to the utmost force and fulness of its love. The native propensity of the mind to reverence whatever is great and wonderful in nature, finds a proper object of homage in Him who spread MORAL PHILOSOPHY. Ibl out the heavens and the earth, and who sustains and governs all things. It is evident from the slightest survey of morals that however punctual a man may be in performing the duties which result from his relations to mankind, yet to be deficient in performing those which arise from our relation to the Almighty, must argue a strange perversion of reason, or depravity of heart. To love society, or particular members of it, and yet to have no sense of our connection with its Head, and no affection toward our common Parent and Benefactor, is indeed preposterous. Our affections depend on our opinions of their objects, and generally keep pace with them ; it must therefore be of the highest importance, and seems to be among the first duties which we owe to the Author of our being, to form the least imperfect, since we cannot form perfect, conceptions of his character and administration. Such conceptions thoroughly im- bibed, will render our religion rational, and our dis- positions refined. If our opinions are diminutive and distorted, our religion will be superstitious, and our temper abject. Thus if we ascribe to the deity that false majesty which consists in the unbenevolent and sullen exercise of mere will or power, or suppose him to delight in the prostrations of servile fear or as ser- vile praise, he will be worshipped with mere adula- tion, and a profusion of compliments. If he be looked upon as a stern, implacable being, delighting in ven- geance, he will be adored with pompous offerings, sacrifices, or whatever else may be thought proper to soothe and mollify him. But if we believe perfect 102 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. goodness and perfect justice to belong to the character of the Supreme Being, and that he loves those most who resemble him most, the worship paid him will be rational and sublime, and his worshippers will seek to please him by imitating that goodness and rectitude which they adore. The foundation, then, of all true religion, is a rational faith. Of a rational faith, these seem to be the chief arti- cles : To believe that an ' infinite, all-perfect Mind exists, who has no opposite nor any separate inter- est from that of his creatures. That he superin- tends and governs all creatures and things. That his goodness extends to all his creatures, in different degrees indeed, according to their respective natures, but without any partiality or envy. That he does everything for the best, or in a subserviency to the perfection and happiness of the whole. That in par- ticular, he directs and governs the affairs of men, inspects their actions, distinguishes the good from the bad; loves and befriends the former, is displeased with, and pities the latter in this world, and will, according to their respective deserts, reward the one and punish the other in the next. That in fine, he is always carrying on a scheme of virtue and happiness through an unlimited duration, and is even guiding the universe through its successive stages and periods, to higher degrees of perfection and felicity. Wherever right conceptions of the Deity and his providence prevail, where he is considered as the inexhaustible source of light, and love, and joy; as acting in the joint character of a Father and Gov- ernor, imparting an endless variety of capacities to his MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 163 creatures, and supplying them with everything neces- sary for their happiness, the sentiment of veneration and gratitude must be excited in the mind. A faith, thus founded, and deeply felt, is nearly connected with a true moral taste, and has a powerful efficacy on the temper and manners of the believer. It is the duty of every man to be grateful and devout towards God. This is internal piety, or the worship of the mind. All those affections which regard the Deity as their immediate and primary object, are vital energies of the soul, and consequently exert themselves into acts, and like all other energies, gain strength and activity by exertion. It is therefore our duty, at stated times, and by decent and solemn acts, to contemplate and adore the great Original of our existence, the Parent of all beauty and all good ; to express our veneration and love by a devout recognition of his perfections, and to evince our gratitude by celebrating his goodness, and thankfully acknowledging all his benefits. It is likewise our duty, by proper exercises of sorrow and humiliation, to confess our ingratitude and folly, to signify our dependence upon him and our submission and resignation to his will. Such are the duties of Public Worship. As God is the parent and head of the social sys- tem ; as he has formed us for a social state ; as by the one we find the best security against the ills of life, and in the other enjoy the greatest comforts ; and as by means of both, our nature attains its highest im- provement and perfection ; and moreover there are public blessings and public transgressions in which we MORAL PHILOSOPHY. all share in some degree, and public wants and dan- gers to which we are all exposed ; it is therefore evi- dent that the various and solemn offices of public reli- gion, are duties of indispensable moral obligation among the firmest cements of society, the surest prop of government, and the fairest ornament of the whole social system. We have here given a sketch of Moral Philosophy, as deduced from the reflections of the mind upon man's character and relations. We may add that these views acquire great force from a reference to the Scriptures. According to this unerring standard, the great law un- der which man is laid by his Creator is this ; " LOVE THE LoED THY GOD WITH ALL THY HEART, AND THY NEIGHBOR AS THYSELF." This is the whole compass of religion. The love of God, or piety, is the object of the first branch of the law ; the love of mankind, or benevo- lence, is that of the other. This last is usually denominated the moral law, and includes duties to our- selves and our fellow-men. Morality is sometimes considered as independent of religion, and we often hear people speak of a moral man, as distinct from a religious man. But true morality is but a portion of religion ; it has its foundation in the love of God, and exists only through that love. There is no such thing, therefore, as morality without religion as a moral man who is not a religious man. A man may observe externally the rules of society, from a selfish regard to his own interests, and thus be called, in common phrase, a moral man ; but the truly moral man is one who feels the force of the great law MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 165 " LOVE THY NEIGHBOR AS THYSELF," and who obeys it, because his heart approves it, because it is a good law, and because it comes from the great Lawgiver. It is obvious that such motives of action only belong to one who loves the Lord his God with all his heart, and who is therefore pious. Morality and religion, accordingly, go together : whatever a man's pretences may be, he is unsound in both, if unsound in either. NATUKAL THEOLOGY. IF a voyager were thrown upon some distant and unknown shore, and should there discover artificial edifices, so contrived as to be suitable dwellings for man, he would infer that they were the work of man. It would not be necessary that he should there find human beings ; that he should see them at work ; that they should tell him the history of these struc- tures. In the absence of all this testimony, he \vould be just as sure that these were human contrivances ; that intelligent, thinking, devising man had been there, and executed these works, as if he had wit- nessed the process. Nor would his knowledge stop here ; if these struc- tures were mere wigwams, he would conclude that they were erected by savages ; if they were of a more ingenious and artificial character, he would infer that the builders were farther advanced in civilization ; if they were elegant and commodious dwellings, he would know that they were the work of a refined and instructed people. Thus, by inference drawn from objects, which can- not speak, which have no lettered inscriptions, which are mere unconscious wood and stone the voyager acquires as clear and certain convictions, those which are as much entitled to his faith and confidenee, as if NATURAL THEOLOGY. they rested upon the testimony of a thousand living witnesses. It is precisely by this process that a large share of the unquestioned history of mankind is made up. History tells us not who reared the pyramids of Egypt ; but no one doubts that they were the work of man, and of man far advanced in the arts. In Nubia, there are vestiges of temples, built of marble and chiseled with the skill of the Grecian sculptor ; history tells us not who reared them ; but we know that thinking, contriving, refined man, was the builder. There is no written record of the nations that con- structed the cities, whose vestiges are now the wonder of the traveller in Copan, Palanque, and Yucatan ; yet, in the utter silence of history, we look at the mouldering ruins, shafts, columns, cornices, archi- traves, and statues, and feel as much assured that intelligent human beings have existed here, as if the story were inscribed in marble or brass. Indeed, it is plain that this kind of evidence is the strongest that can be offered : words may deceive ; the pen and the tongue may bear false witness but works, such as those to which we refer, cannot lie. Now, Natural Theology proposes to prove the exis- tence of God, and to discover some of his attributes, by the same process as this by which history traces the existence and character of men and races of men, whom we have not seen, and of whom we have no knowledge, but that which is inferred from their works. We throw aside, in this investigation, both history and revelation ; and guided by the light of nature alone by the contemplation of the various natural objects around us, seek to discover whence 168 NATURAL THEOLOGY. these things come, and what is the character of that Power, to which they owe their existence. It may be well to remark here, that we know no- thing of the origin of mind or matter. Our reasoning upon this subject runs at once into contradiction and absurdity. We say, before matter exists it is nothing ; and from nothing, nothing can come. Here is contra- diction, yet it seems legitimate reasoning. The same argument has been applied to mind, and with the like result. Hence, in this staggering of the human intellect, attempting to fathom an abyss too deep for its faculties, some men have referred the works of nature to chance, to accident, to an infinite series of causes and conse- quences as if, by hiding their ideas in an ambush of unmeaning words, they expected to clear up the mys- tery. It may be well for us to set out upon our present investigation with right views upon this point. The origin of things is beyond our investigation. Exist- ence, motion, life, action, thought, are before us ; we can trace them from one point to another ; but at last, when we inquire as to the beginning, the birth of matter, the first pulse of life and action, the morning dawn of thought and feeling these are hidden from our view. We can follow the stream of being far up, but at last we come to a curtain, and behind this, the beginning is hidden, as God's secret, which no man can penetrate. But, shall we infer that behind that curtain all is dark, negative, fortuitous ? Shall we not rather, judging from what we see on this side, believe that there is a power there, adequate to the results before NATTRAL THEOLOGY. 169 our eyes? If we find a stream flowing from the mouth of an impenetrable cave, shall we say that it has no source, no fountain, no adequate supplies ? The common sense of mankind, the highest au- thority to which we can appeal, has not reasoned thus. In all ages, men have looked around, and, seeing order, method, contrivance evidences of design and intelligence in the courses of the heavenly bodies and in the structure of plants and animals, have referred their origin and preparation to some power, superior to man, and competent to achieve the works they behold. If you present a toy to a child, he says, as if instinctively, Who made it ? That a contrivance must have a contriver, is one of the first and most universal of ideas ; this is as plainly true, as that two and two make four, and whoever rejects this must reject all human evidence, and deny alike the exist- ence and discovery of truth. Our inquiry then, whether there be a God, who is the author of " light and life," is only an inquiry into what mankind, in all ages and countries, have affirma- tively determined ; and we may further add, that exactly in proportion as science has advanced, and the horizon of the human mind been enlarged, this con- clusion has acquired strength and confirmation. When in the infancy of society, this world was considered the centre of the universe, its existence was indeed referred to God : And now that the Astronomer has in- structed us that it is but as a particle of dust rising from the chariot wheel in the path of the Creator though we can go no further, we look upon this truth with added confidence, and new and enlarged views of the Author of all things. 170 NATURAL THEOLOGY. PROOFS OF DEIT.Y FROM THE VEGETABLE KINGDOM. Let us now consider, briefly, the argument from na- ture, in favor of the existence of God. And in the first place, we turn our attention to the vegetable king- dom. We here notice that the propagation of trees, plants, and shrubs, all depend upon seeds. Now let us look and see the various ingenious contrivances employed for the protection of seeds, from their begin- ning to their perfection and maturity. We begin with a stalk of our common Indian corn. When it first shoots from the ground, the germ of the seed is carefully sheltered and concealed, in the twisted and folded leaves. The stalk advances, and at length, a small tuft indicates the coming ear. This increases by insensible degrees, tender as an infant, and as carefully wrapped in its swaddling clothes, as is the child of a palace. Care is taken by nurse nature that the winds of heaven shall not visit its infancy too roughly. While the kernels are soft and milky, they are covered by fine garments, more closely and nicely fitting the form, and more completely excluding both wind and rain, than the most scientific attire of the tailor or the mantua-maker. The process goes on and the kernels are at last ripe. The design is now accomplished : the seeds are competent to produce their kind ; they are fit for bird, beast and man and now the coating dries up, and the fruit is freely offered to those who will come and take it. Is all this matter of accident, or design ? Let us look a little further into this subject of seeds, and observe what a variety of contrivances are resorted to, for their protection. The seeds of peas are en- NATURAL THEOLOGY. 171 closed in a pod, as smooth and almost as tough as parchment ; and there is a very curious contrivance here, which seems worthy of notice. When they are very young and tender, they are sheltered within the flower, and this is so shaped, that when the wind blows, it turns its hack, and the young pod is thus kept safe from the blast In some plants, as in beans, the seeds are enclosed in pods, lined with a membrane as soft as silk. In others, as in cotton plants, the seeds are embedded in fine wool, and are thus as carefully provided for, as the children of the rich who sleep on beds of down ! If we look to other plants, we shall everywhere find the same careful ar- rangements for preserving the seeds, and thus sus- taining the races of trees, and flowers, and plants. In the pine, the seed is defended by the hard compact scales of a cone : in the artichoke, it is barricadoed by spikes or prickles ; in the mushroom, it is sheltered in a sort of penthouse. Thus, the design of preserving the seeds seems to be displayed throughout the vege- table kingdom, and the contrivances by which it is accomplished are ingenious and diversified. Shells, pods, husks, pulps, skins, scales, all are resorted to, to defend the seeds. Nor are there contrivances, for defence against the weather, alone. Some are designed to keep them from the birds and squirrels and other animals, till they are ripened, when they are opened of themselves. Thus the chestnut is enclosed in a prickly burr, but when ripe, this burr parts and the chestnut falls out. So the walnut is cased in a bitter rind, but when ripe, this opens and leaves the fruit free. 172 NATURAL THEOLOGY. A similar design is exhibited in respect to all plants. While young and tender, the seeds are carefully pro- tected. They are not only enclosed and defended, but they adhere closely and tenaciously to the parent stems. But when ripe when qualified to perform their destined task the pod or husk, or shell, or burr, opens, and they are released from their confinement. Thus, two great objects are accomplished : a vast amount of food is provided for man, and for the birds and beasts, and, at the same time, the means are secured by which all the races of plants may be per- petuated. Some of the seeds fall upon the ground, and spring up at the root of the parent stalk ; some are scattered by the winds, and strew the distant fields with vegetation ; some are carried by birds to distant lands ; and thus the productions of the earth are diver- sified, extended and increased. Now if we consider the fact, that the multiplied forms of vegetable life, all depend upon seeds, and notice such care, ingenuity and contrivance, in order to bring them to maturity, can we fail to see in all this, clear and conclusive evidence of an intelligent mind that designs and a skilful hand that executes ? But we must go one step further : there are innumer- able races of animals, men, quadrupeds, birds, fishes, insects, almost a hundred thousand species, and countless myriads of individuals all directly or indi- rectly depending upon the vegetable kingdom for life and happiness. Now when we see such races in existence ; when we see them thus dependent upon the vegetable kingdom, and when we behold such amazing care and contrivance to maintain and multiply the NATURAL THEOLOGY. 173 number and amount of its productions do we not as plainly see a Father taking care of his children, by plan and design, by the adapting of means to ends, as if he stood verily, like an earthly parent, before our eyes ? How clear, how satisfactory, is this view of the vegetable world ; and what bewildering doubt, mys- tery and confusion, beset the mind, if we refer the facts we behold, to blind accident, or unthinking, un- knowing necessity ? Is it not an abuse of reason, a loving of darkness rather than light, to resist these conclusions ? Let us pause here, a moment, and ask, what is Accident? An attribute, not an existence ; a shadow, not a substance ; and when we can see by a thousand types, the living, moving, efficient Form, shall we shut our eyes, and impute results to the shadow? And what is Necessity ? A negation ; not even a shadow ! Its existence is nowhere proved or even suggested by nature. Because the locomotive daily follows its track, shall we infer that it goes by necessity, and thus disprove the existence and agency of steam ? Experi- ence, and common sense all the approved guides of human thought and action reject such bewildering folly, and where design is proved, they teach us to believe in an adequate Designer. If a child ask a question, as for instance, what makes grass grow ? we may answer, nature and the child will perhaps be content. Mankind are often satisfied with thus thrusting aside a question they can- not solve, by words to which no definite meaning can be attached. It is this childish habit which leads 174 NATURAL THEOLOGY. many people into practical Atheism. Instead of refer- ring the course of events to God, their true author, they speak of them as the result of accident, tendency, necessity, nature. This last, is the mist in which habitual stupidity or unbelief, finds a shelter. But what is Nature ? Surely not an active, efficient power, independent of God. Nothing can design and act that has not a power of will and motion within itself. Those who suppose Nature can do anything, can form and accomplish any design, must suppose it to possess the power of motion and a mind. If nature produces plants, it must pos- sess a mind of infinite wisdom, and ingenuity and power ; and such a Being is God. Those who speak of nature, as itself doing what man with all his inge- nuity cannot do, speak of a Being superior to man, and his proper title is God. There is therefore no such thing as nature independent of God : nature is only that system of laws, by which He carries on his plans, and performs his works. The earth, with all its array of fields, and plants, rivers and lakes, is, indeed, sometimes called nature. The word, in this sense, however, only means the elements of earth, air and water, and the various forms they assume. These are incapable of any action of themselves ; of themselves they are mere dead mat- ter ; all the energy they possess, is derived from some other power. A grain of sand, a mound of earth, a pufFof air, a mass of water, cannot move, but by the impulse of that power. If there were no God, these would remain forever as they are. Those who sup- pose that there is in the earth or the air or the water, NATURAL THEOLOGY. 175 a power, called nature, which produces plants, which makes things grow must suppose that it is an intelli- gent, thinking, contriving power ; one that is infinitely superior to man, and this is a being to whom we assign the title of God. It is obvious, therefore, that the attempt to evade the conclusion to which we arrive, from a view of the vegetable kingdom, by the use of unmeaning words, is wholly abortive, and that when we take away the bandage which men thus put over their eyes, the image of Deity stands plainly revealed before them. A GOD PHOVED FROM A VIEW OF BIRDS. In looking at the feathered creation, we see at once that they are designed to live in a different manner from quadrupeds. They are intended to soar aloft in the air, to perch upon trees, or swim on the wave. Now let us see how ad- mirably they are formed, in order to suit them to their modes of existence. In the first place, let us look at the wing. Where, in the compass of human inven- tion, is there a contrivance equal to this ? Examine a single feather, and consider if it be possible, for the art of man to rival it. Look then at the feathers and quills, of various sizes, upon the wing ; and mark how skilfully they are adjusted to each other, and to the whole machine, of which they are a part. Study, then, the frame work of the wing; mark the bones, how firm, and yet how light ; see how the numerous joints are fitted to each other, and note the numerous pulleys and cords, and how admirably they are all placed, in order to work the engine to which they belong. And now observe that wing in motion ; see how it opens and closes ; how at once it cleaves the air, in 176 NATURAL THEOLOGY. its forward motion, and excludes its passage through, in beating upward, by a succession of impulses. Surely the mind must be dull indeed, which does not perceive with intense delight, the beauty and perfec- tion of this contrivance. And every step of our far- ther investigation, serves but to increase our admira- tion. If we look at the general structure of the bird, we do not find the bones filled with marrow, as in the land animals, but they are hollow, to render the crea- ture light, and enable it to rise upon the subtle element in which it is destined to perform its wonderful evolu- tions. Nor is even this all : the form of the bird, like the boat designed to cleave the waves, is suited to glance like an arrow through the air ; and the tail is fitted with all the mechanism necessary at once to operate as an oar or a rudder. And finally, to render the plumage smooth, so as to glide easily forward, and to keep it in perfect order, the bird is furnished with a fine oil, and all the instinctive art necessary to its application. We might still go farther, and consider the particu- lar adaptation of birds to the peculiar modes of life which they are destined to pursue : we might direct attention to the feet of the climbers such as wood- peckers, parrots, &c. which have two forward and two back claws ; to the feet of the swimming birds, which are webformed, and thus answer the purpose of pad- dles ; to the plumage of the water birds, which is so compact as to exclude the water ; to the long legs of the waders ; the long bills and necks of the fishers ; the sharp cutting beaks and hooked talons of the birds of prey; and we might direct attention to the admir- NATURAL THEOLOGY. 177 able design and contrivance here displayed. What perfect knowledge of the principles of natural philoso- phy, and of the mechanical powers is disclosed ; and what wonderful skill is evinced in adapting means to ends. Who indeed can look upon the wing or webbed foot, and fail to see that he who made them, knew the existence of the air and water, and was familiar with their properties ; who that studies the varied forms, and wonderful endowments of the feathered creation, can hesitate to look up and say, " Oh Lord, how wonderful are thy works : in goodness and wisdom hast thou made them all?" We have not yet even adverted to the mode of pro- ducing birds, by eggs. Let us reflect upon this, for a moment. An egg consists of a delicate shell, polished without and lined with a soft, silky pellicle. It is filled with a glutinous matter, the outer part of which is called the white, and the inner part the yolk ; yet this fluid is so wonderfully mixed and consists of such elements that by being kept warm for two or three weeks, it is converted into a living bird, with claws, legs, wings, tail, neck, head, bill, and all the means for eating and digesting its food. It has also a prin- ciple of life, by which it moves, breathes, eats, drinks, flies, sings and produces eggs, which eggs produce other birds. Such is the wonderful ingenuity displayed in the construction of an egg. It infinitely surpasses in art and contrivance everything that man can do. He can make a watch, but it cannot breathe, or eat, or drink. It has no principle of life. When the spring that keeps it in motion, is expanded, the watch runs down L 178 NATURAL THEOLOGY. and ceases to move. Nor can one watch produce another watch. How amazingly superior then is an egg to the most ingenious of man's contrivances ! It produces a bird, which in every part surpasses man's invention. Man cannot even construct a single feather, yet an egg produces a bird with hundreds of feathers ; and this bird produces other eggs, and these produce other birds in endless succession. OTHER PROOFS OF A DEITY. The adaptation of fishes to the element in which they dAvell, and the life they are to lead, affords equally striking proofs of thought and intelligence in the Creator. These in- habitants of the seas, lakes and rivers are of various sizes from the whale to the minnow, and of forms as diversified as the flowers of the field. But examine the most common of them all, the perch of our own ponds for instance, with which every school boy is familiar. It is covered with a tough skin, to which, a series of scales are nicely fitted and all of which are set on hinges which yield to the motions of the fish. What human ingenuity can match this contrivance ? Then look at the fins thin as silk, and spread on delicate frames made of bone, and all so nicely adjusted as to be to the fish what wings are to the bird. By means of these fins, the fish pushes himself through the water almost as swiftly as an arrow flies through the air, and these enable him to turn hither and thither at his pleasure. If he wishes to rise or sink in the water, he is furnished with an air bladder, which enables him to do so as easily as we draw a breath. This description will apply to many other fishes, but while some are without scales and are only de- JTATUBAL THEOLOGY. 179 fended by a slippery skin, others have the protection of shells. Some are more curious than others, but they all exhibit proofs of masterly design and skill. The little minnow of an inch in length, as well as the whale of eighty feet, surpasses the boldest efforts of human genius. One and all assure us that a superior Being, one of intelligence and ingenuity infinitely beyond man, must have been the Architect of fishes. There is a class of animals called reptiles, including frogs, toads, lizards, tortoises, serpents, Six,. These are divided into a variety of species, and are endowed with many different properties. They are all interest- ing subjects of inquiry, and as proving the existence of a superior Being, are equally entitled to attention. Let us contemplate the common frog ; at first, it is an egg, but after about twenty days, a tail peeps out. In a short time, it acquires the tadpole form, and is then called pollywog by the schoolboys. In three days after assuming this shape, two little fringes which serve as fins, grow out from beneath the head. Thus these creatures move about, and live upon pond weed. When they are 92 days old, two small feet begin to sprout near the tail, and in a very short time, the hinder legs are formed. In two days more, the arms are completely produced. After a little while, the tail drops off, and the frog, the finest of all four-legged swimmers, is complete. Now he disdains the pond weed, and lives upon worms and insects. What human ingenuity can rival this wonderful piece of mechanism, endowed with life and motion and the art of getting a living ! Who but God could produce this humblest and commonest of reptiles from an egg, 180 NATURAL THEOLOGY. carry it through all its wonderful transformations, and at last, bring it to the perfection of its race ? The lizards are still more wonderful than the frogs. The crocodile, which inhabits the rivers of Asia and Africa, and the alligator which is found in the rivers, bays and lagoons of America, belong to this family. The former is sometimes thirty feet in length, and the latter, twenty. These creatures are destined to make the larger animals their prey, and they are wonder- fully fitted for the life they are designed to lead. The crocodile is covered with large scales, from the shoul- ders to the extremity of the tail. These are of a square form, disposed like parallel girdles, and they are so adjusted, as not to obstruct the motions of the animal. Beside all this, the creature is covered over with a skinny coat of armor. Such are the defensive equipments of this formida- ble reptile. He is also provided with short, thick legs, and is armed with powerful claws, and a tail of extra- ordinary strength and flexibility. This latter is its chief instrument of destruction. - With this it has often been known to overturn a boat or canoe, and seize upon its conductor. Such is the crocodile, which under the name of leviathan is thus spoken of in the forty-first chapter of Job. " In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him. The flakes of his flesh are joined together ; they are firm in themselves ; they cannot be moved. His heart is as firm as stone, yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone. NATURAL THEOLOGY. 181 The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold the spear, the dart, nor the halcyon. He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him flee ; sling stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as stubble ; he laugheth at the shaking of a spear. Sharp stones are under him ; he spreadeth sharp- pointed things upon the mire. He maketh the deep to boil like a pot ; he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment" It would be easy to extend these observations, in re- spect to the reptile creation, and to show that they all serve to set forth the fact of a Creator. The humble and familiar toad, the creeping tortoise, the sliding serpent, the changeful chamelion one and all are beyond the utmost stretch of human invention, and clearly proclaim a designing, creative power. If we turn our attention to the insect creation, the train of inferences is the same. This great family of living things, includes the flies, gnats, wasps, bees, butterflies, hornets, ants, spiders, &c. They are di- vided into many kinds, and their number is beyond human conception. But let us take one of them the common house fly. Who made this little creature ? Look at its structure, and see the wonderful ingenuity displayed in it ! In the first place, his body is separated into two parts, with a joint in the middle. As he has no bones, like those of birds, quadrupeds and fishes, his body consists of several horny plates or scales, nicely at- 182 NATURAL THEOLOGY. tached to each other. His wings are finer than any human fabric, but his eyes are the most curious part of his formation. These, when examined through a powerful magnifying glass, are each found to contain 4000 minute lenses. This is wonderful indeed, but we must consider one thing farther, and that is that the Maker of the fly has put life into this little crea- ture by which the body can move, by which the little wings are made to vibrate so swiftly as to become in- visible, and by which the 4000 lenses of the eye are used for the purpose of seeing every minute object that may be near. Such is the wonderful structure of the common house fly ; and who made it ? The struc- ture of many other insects is equally wonderful, and perhaps in this humble department of animated nature, the proofs of design, contrivance, and adaptation, are even more varied and more wonderful, than in the higher forms of life. But we have not space to pur- sue this topic farther. Let us consider for a moment the structure of the elephant. In many respects, the skeleton or frame of this animal resembles that of other quadrupeds. It consists of a series of bones extending along the back, carefully fitted together, called the vertebrae. To this, ribs are attached, and the bones for the legs. Upon this frame-work, the flesh of the animal is formed, and over the whole is a coating of skin. Within are a heart and lungs, and tubes called arteries and veins, for the conveyance of blood. Beside these, there are the various organs for receiving, conducting, and di- gesting the food, as well as a great variety of muscles, veins, and fibres. NATURAL THEOLOGY. 183 This description applies to the structure of most quadrupeds, and let us consider it a moment, as a mere piece of mechanism. Observe the animal when walking, leaping, or running about, and think that all these motions are produced by the contraction of the muscles, just as the sails and yards of a ship are taken up and taken down, by means of ropes. Con- sider too that all the joints in the body of the animal, of which there are perhaps a hundred, must be con- stantly moving, and think how smoothly they must turn upon each other. Nor must we pause here, for we have only considered the bones and muscles of the animal. Look now at the heart, and see it constantly beating, and at every stroke spreading the blood by a thousand channels to every part of the body ! But let us consider more particularly the structure of the elephant. When he is full grown, he has two enor- mous tusks, proceeding from his upper jaw. These are necessary to the animal for defence, but they are so heavy that he would be unable to carry them, if his neck were as long, in proportion to his size as that of other animals. The neck is accordingly made very short. In consequence of this arrangement the creature is unable to get its head to the ground. To remedy this defect, it is provided with a tube or trunk extending from the nose to the length of three or four feet. This trunk is particularly worthy of attention. It consists of several thousand small muscles, crossing and interlacing each other in the most ingenious manner. These muscles are extremely flexible, and are endowed 184 NATURAL THEOLOGY. with the most exquisite sensibility. The trunk is ter- minated with an appendage, resembling a finger. To the elephant, the trunk answers all the purposes of a hand. He turns it this way and that way, and with the utmost ease, coils it up, or stretches it out ; with this, he strikes a blow, seizes upon whatever he wishes to carry to his mouth, sucks up water, and turns it down his throat. Now, who can take into consideration all these facts and not be struck with the skilful contrivance and wonderful power of execution, in the Creator of the elephant ? What work of man can compare in ingenuity with the elephant's trunk ? What human construction does not sink into insignificance when compared with the moving elephant ? The same train of argument may be derived from an examination of other quadrupeds. The lion shows skilful contrivance and adaptation to produce activ- ity united to power ; the deer to produce speed ; the squirrel to produce agility ; the horse to produce a combination of strength and swiftness each and all show the same master workmanship, and lead us to the conclusion that none of them could have existed had they not been created by some being possessing the boundless intelligence and power which we attribute to the Deity. But there is still another proof of the existence of the Deity, perhaps more striking and more calculated to affect the mind than any other ; this is deduced from a consideration of our own structure. Look at the hand ! What a curious piece of mechanism ! It con- sists of bones and muscles, and flesh and skin, and NATURAL THEOLOGY. 185 how admirably are these all adapted to their purpose. Where can we find among human devices and contri- vances any thing so ingenious, so wonderful ? Look at the foot how admirably is this contrived ! Look at the arm : what piece of mechanism can com- pare with it 1 But of all parts of the body, the eye is perhaps the most wonderful. It has in it, a lens, like that of a telescope, through which the rays of light pass ; and at the back of the eye a picture of what- ever comes before the eye, is formed. This picture falls upon a nerve which lines the interior of the eye, and thus it is we see. And observe how the eye itself is placed in the head, so as easily to turn this way and that, and in the best possible position, for afford- ing a wide field of view. And again let us consider the amazing power and scope of this organ of vision, and we cannot fail to be impressed with the eviden- ces of a designing Creator as its author. The, same train of observations might be made, and the same inferences deduced, from a survey of the mineral masses of the earth for geology teaches us that amid the seeming confusion of rocks and earths of land and water, of mountain and valley, there are the clearest traces of a designing power, that has su- perintended their construction and disposition. We might also direct attention to the sun and the brotherhood of attendant planets wheeling day and night through space, and performing the most intri- cate evolutions, and all, according to a settled plan, and with undeviating precision, and ask who swung these worlds in the air ? Who bade them take up their line of march and was obeyed? Who sus- 186 NATURAL THEOLOGY. tains them in their course ? Who measured out their orbits and their rotations infinitely more complicated than the machinery of a watch or clock ; who bal- anced them, one with another, and fitted them so ex- actly to suit the great centripetal and centrifugal laws ? Is it possible to answer these enquiries but by refer- ence to a mighty Being of thought, intelligence and design ? We might pursue this inquiry throughout the bound- less field of nature, and the investigation of every ob- ject, animate or inanimate, would lead us to the same conclusion. No where can we find an existence, whether in earth, air, sea, or sky, whose formation and creation do not necessarily imply an Intelligent Au- ther. What truth, then, is certified by such a cloud of witnesses as the existence of God ? Every seed that falls ripened to the earth every tree, and plant, and flower ; every feather of the bird ; every fin of the tenants of the sea ; every form moving upon the land ; every beating heart; every sprouting plant ; every glimmering star, testifies before the tribunal of the universe, to this fact. And can there be perjury in these witnesses ? Has all nature conspired to cheat mankind and to impose a lie upon the world ? Then, indeed, truth itself is a chimera and human reason a fraud. But this is not so truth is a reality, and the God of truth, is the author of the universe ! PERSONALITY OF THE DEITY. We have seen that amid all the works of nature, there are evidences of contrivance, design, and intelligence in their author, and this being we call God. He is a being that thinks, plans and executes ; and therefore, he has a NATURAL THEOLOGY. 187 separate independent personal existence. It is no argu- ment against this that men have not seen God. He who denies the personal existence of the Deity on this ground, must deny the existence of electricity, gravi- tation, and many of the most potent elements of nature, for they are invisible. The principle of gravitation is ever present with us ; we cannot for a moment escape from it. If we jump up into the air, it pulls us instantly back to the earth. Go where we may, it is within and around us. Yet we have no eye that ena- bles us to see it. It is an efficient power, and it lays upon us its imperative influence ; but it is still invisi- ble. So it is with God. He is an active and power- ful being ; but he is a spirit, and our eye is not fitted to perceive and appreciate his presence. It is sufficient for us that the proofs of God's exist- ence are as clear as they could be, if he were manifest to our senses. The visible world speaks of God through the organs of sight ; the voices of birds and the harmonies of nature are eloquent of him to the ear ; millions of flowers testify of him by their exqui- site perfume. Taste and touch add their testimony to his wonderful works. Thus the very senses are addressed by all things around us, and made to lend their testimony to the great truth of God's existence ; and surely it is an abuse of reason and common sense to resist their unanimous teaching. UNITY OF GOD. It may be admitted that the works of nature prove the existence of some intelligent, creative power, but is this power reposed in one or many gods ? All the ancient nations of Europe and Asia appear to have adopted a system of polytheism. 188 NATURAL THEOLOGY. In ancient Greece, a deity was supposed to preside over every river and hill and mountain. Almost every object in nature and almost every human pas- sion had its deity. But over all these, there was one called Jupiter who was supposed to be the supreme governor of the universe. Nearly the same belief is entertained at the present day throughout a great part of Asia ; but a little reflection will satisfy us that there cannot be a multi- plicity of Gods. In the first place, we ought to adopt no belief for which we can produce no evidence, and there is none whatever to prove that there is more than one Deity. On the contrary, all nature seems at the outset, to assure us that there is but one God. This appears from the uniformity of plan observable in the universe, which is itself a system, each part depending upon other parts. One principle of gravi- tation causes a stone to drop towards the earth, and the moon to wheel round it. One law of attraction carries all the planets round the sun. They all expe- rience the vicissitudes of day and night, and the changes of the seasons. The light from a fixed star affects our eyes in the same manner, and is refracted and reflected according to the same laws as the light of a candle. The velocity of the light of the fixed stars, is also the same as the velocity of the light of the sun, reflected from the satellites of Jupiter. The heat of the sun, in kind, differs nothing from the heat of a common fire. In our own globe, unity of design is still more man- ifest. New countries are continually discovered, but the old laws of nature are always found in them ; new NATURAL THEOLOGY. 189 plants, perhaps, or anirqals are found, but always in company with plants and animals which we already know, and always possessing the same general pro- perties. " Never," says Paley, " do we get among such original, or totally different modes of existence, as to indicate that we are come into the province of a different Creator, or under the direction of a different Will." In truth,. the same order of things attends us wherever we go. The elements act upon one another, electricity operates, the tides rise and fall, the mag- netic needle takes its position in one region of the earth as well as another. One atmosphere invests all parts of the globe ; one sun illuminates, and one moon exerts its specific attraction upon all parts. The inspection and comparison of living forms, add to this argument, and examples are at hand without number. Of all land animals, the structure is very much alike ; the senses are nearly the same ; their natural functions and passions nearly the same ; diges- tion, nutrition, circulation, go on in a similar manner in all. The great circulating fluid is the same ; for no difference has yet been discovered in the proper- ties of blood, from whatever animal it may be drawn. It has been shown that the blood of one animal will serve for another. The skeletons of the larger land animals show particular varieties, but they still have a great general affinity. The resemblance is somewhat less, yet sufficiently evident between quadrupeds and birds. In fishes, which belong to another department of nature, the points of comparison become fewer. But we never lose sight of an analogy ; we still meet with 190 NATURAL THEOLOGY. a stomach, a liver, a spine ; with bile and blood ; with teeth, with eyes. The provinces also of earth and water, are connected by a species of animals that inhabit both, and also, by a large tribe of aquatic ani- mals, which closely resemble the terrestrial in their structure we mean the cetacious tribe, such as seals, porpoises and whales, which have hot blood, respiring lungs, and other essential parts like those of land ani- mals. This similitude, surely, bespeaks the same creation and the same Creator. Insects and shellfish appear to differ from other classes of animals the most widely of any. Yet even here, there exists a general relation of a peculiar kind. In other animals, the bones to which the muscles are attached, lie within the body, in insects and shellfish, they lie on the outside of it. The shell of a lobster performs to the animal the office of a bone. The crust of an insect is its shell, and answers the like purpose. The shell also of an oyster stands in the place of a bone ; the muscles being fixed to it, in the same manner, as in other animals they are fixed to the bones ; all this, under wonderful varieties, indeed, confesses an imitation, a remembrance, a carrying on, of the same plan. We might add a most curious and interesting fact disclosed by modern geology. This science carries us back to periods, millions of years ago, in which races of plants and animals, now extinct, inhabited the earth ; yet here we find the same general system of organiza- tion, as is found in the vegetable and animal king- doms at the present day. Here, then, is evidence of the same plan, upon our earth, even at periods too re- mote for the imagination to grasp. NATURAL THEOLOGY. 191 We might deduce the same arguments from the system observable in the vegetable kingdom ; but we have said enough to show that there is a har- mony of design and plan throughout the universe, which is incompatible with the idea of separate and independent Creators. Were there such, the world would exhibit contradictions and inconsistencies. One part would be at variance with another ; one design would thwart another ; but as all unite harmoniously to constitute a consistent system, we may safely and certainly conclude that all created things are the result of one Mind one God. SKILL OF THE CREATOR, PROVED FROM THE STRUC- TURE OF ANIMALS. In proving the existence of God, we have already spoken of many things which dis- play wonderful ingenuity of contrivance, and which at the same time that they prove God's existence, also attest his wisdom and his power. In every depart- ment of nature, the mineral, vegetable and animal, there are contrivances which no human art can rival. It has been before said, that man may make imita- tions, but he can do no more. But in order to render this superior skill of the Cre- ator more palpable, let us examine one or two mechan- ical contrivances in the structure of animals. We will select as one instance the human spine or back- bone. This consists of twenty-four bones, joined and compacted together in the most wonderful manner. It is so contrived that while it is firm and enables the body to support an erect position, it is at the same time flexible, so as to bend in all directions. Xo human art has ever been able to contrive a chain, that 192 NATURAL THEOLOGY. can perform these double offices. Here we see that in mere mechanical contrivance, the works of God defy competition from man. But this is not all. The spine has still another office to perform. In the centre of this chain of twenty-four bones, and passing through them all, is a tube containing the spinal nerve. This extends from the brain through the back and communicates with every part of the body by a thousand small pipes which have the name of nerves. Beside all this, the spine is to be so adjusted that the ribs may be fastened to it, as well as the legs and arms ; and finally, to these the various muscles which enable the limbs and body to move, are to be fas- tened. Now suppose that an ingenious mechanic were to undertake to construct an artificial skeleton in imita- tion of that which belongs to man, would it not be impossible for him to accomplish the task ; and would he not be compelled to give it up in despair ? Let us consider, that we only ask of the human architect an imitation, and that even this is beyond his ability. How great then must be the wisdom and power of that Superior Architect, who not only made, but designed and contrived his works, and not only designed and contrived them, but furnished the very materials from his own manufactory the bones, the muscles, the nerves and the fluids necessary for his purpose ! Let us take another illustration of the wisdom and power of God, as displayed in animal mechanism. It is the design of the Creator that the blood shall be dis- HATTEAL THEOLOGY. 193 tributed throughout the body, and that this shall be essential to life. The body is therefore provided with two systems of blood-vessels arteries and veins ; the first to carry the blood out from the heart, and the lat- ter to bring it back. These tubes are wonderfully contrived and distri- buted over the body, and the blood which is to pass through them, is furnished by means equally ingen- ious and wonderful. But what machinery can be devised to receive the blood from the veins and force it through the arteries and throughout the system? The heart is destined to perform this work. This is a hollow muscle in the centre of the body, surrounded with spiral fibres, running in both directions, the lay- ers crossing and interlacing each other. By a con- traction of these spiral fibres, the hollow muscle is compressed, and whatever fluid may be in it, is squeezed out from the cavity within. By a relaxation of the spiral fibres, the cavities in the hollow muscle are prepared to admit any fluid that may be poured into it. Into these cavities the great trunks or pipes of the arteries and veins are inserted the one to carry out the blood, and the other to return it. Every time that the heart beats, a contraction of the spiral fibres takes place, and the blood is sent through the arteries, by the force of the stroke, as water gushes through a syringe ; and exactly at the same time, an equal proportion is received from the veins. Thus, at every pulse, about two spoons full of blood are sent out from the human heart, through the arteries, and the same quantity is received from the veins. It is said that each ventricle of the heart 194 NATURAL THEOLOGY. will contain an ounce of blood. The heart contracts 4000 times in an hour, from which it appears that 4000 ounces, or 250 pounds of blood, pass through the heart every hour. The whole mass of blood in the body of a grown person is about twenty-five pounds, so that a quantity equal to the whole mass, passes through the heart twelve times in an hour, which is about once every six minutes. Such is the operation of the heart in the human body; but consider what it must be in the larger animals, as the elephant or the whale. In the latter, the tube through which the blood is forced into the arteries, called the aorta, is a foot in diameter, and ten or fifteen gallons of blood are thrown out of the heart, at every stroke, and it rushes with a velocity like that of water through the sluice of a mill. The whole idea fills the mind with wonder, and we cannot but look up with awe to that Being whose works dis- play such evidence of wisdom and power. THE ARGUMENT FROM THE PECULIAR ORGANIZATION OF CERTAIN ANIMALS. Along each side of the neck of larger quadrupeds is a stiff, strong ligament, which butchers call the pax wax. We often see it in a piece of roast beef. It is a powerful tape, braced from the head to the back, and its office is to support the weight of the head, which it is exactly suited to fulfil. The head of an ox is a heavy weight acting at the end of a long lever, and but for this support, would be very difficult and tedious to carry. But by this brace it is supported with ease. No similar organ is found in man, for his erect position renders such a provision unnecessary. This peculiar organization is limited to NATURAL THEOLOGY. 195 quadrupeds ; and it shows that the Creator sees and knows and provides for, with admirable ingenuity, the wants of his creatures. The oil with which birds preserve their feathers, and the organ which supplies it, are peculiar provis- ions of the Deity for the feathered creation. On each side of the rump of birds is observed a small protu- berance, yielding a substance resembling butter, which runs out when the bird presses it with its bill. With this ointment the bird dresses its coat, as often as any part of its feathers may require it. Nothing similar to this oil is found upon unfeathered animals. If this provision were accidental in birds, why should it not also be found in beasts ? The air-bladder of a fish affords another striking in- stance of contrivance. The use of the organ is to sus- tain, and also to elevate or depress the body of the fish, in the water. This is done in the following manner. When the bladder contained in the body of the fish is contracted, the bulk of the fish is also contracted, and becomes heavier as compared with the water, and ac- cordingly, it descends. On the contrary, when the bladder is expanded, the bulk of the fish is greater and comparatively lighter, and the fish rises. This power has been proved by observing that when the bladder is burst, the fish grovels at the bottom ; and also that flounders, soles and skates, which have no air-bladder, seldom rise in the water, and if they do, it costs them a great effort. We do not see by what method an animal, which lives constantly in the water, is able to supply a repository of air, but the Creator of fishes has accomplished this object, though we cannot tell the means. 196 NATURAL THEOLOGY. The black skimmer of the seas, is a kind of gull, which gets its living from the deep,' in a most curious manner. He has immense powers of flight, and seems to be capable of sustaining himself on the wing, for hours and perhaps for days. He skims along over the deep, keeping his lower jaw or mandible in the water, with which he occasionally scoops up a fish that happens to come in his way. To fit him for this peculiar mode of getting a livelihood, his under jaw is shaped like a paper-cutter, and is more than an inch longer than the upper one. When a fish is taken, it is slipped along toward the throat, and there held in the bill till the bird has time to devour it. What a curious adaptation do we here find, of tools to the work that is to be done ! This bird is to get his food by skimming the seas, and he has a peculiar instrument for the purpose ; and to accommodate him, a departure from the structure of all other birds is adopted, and the lower mandible, usually the shortest, is here made the longest. In the owl, we observe a remarkable adaptation of structure to vocation. This bird is made to lead the life of a thief, and to steal upon its prey in the dark- ness and stillness of night. His eyes are there- fore so constructed that, while he can hardly see by day, he can see distinctly at night. But there is another peculiar, yet suitable contrivance, less obvious, but even more curious. The plumage of the owl is remarkably soft, full and downy. Every part of the body, and even the head and legs, are covered with long, yielding feathers. And why is this? So that the bird may winnow the air on a silent wing, and NATURAL THEOLOGY. 197 approach its victim not unseen only, but unheard. Ho\v different is the noiseless, stealthy flight of an owl from the whistling rush of a pigeon, or the whir- ring of a partridge ; and how admirably does this pe- culiarity qualify the bird to follow its trade ! Wilson, the American ornithologist, remarks that the females of most species of birds are less gaudily dressed than the males ; and that we here see a wise provision of the Creator, as by this means, the females, who are peculiarly destined to watch over the young, are less likely to be objects of pursuit to the hawk and the sportsman. Being of more sober hues, they are less conspicuous, and may more easily shelter them- selves from attack amid the leaves and bushes. Certain birds have a particular structure in the claw, which fits them for their peculiar mode of life. The middle claw of the heron and cormorant, is toothed and notched like a saw. These birds are great fish- ers, and these notches assist them in holding their slippery prey. The use and design of this is evident. Some birds that live on fish have these notches in their bills, and for the same purpose. The gannet, or soland goose, has the edges of its bill irregularly jag- ged, that it may hold its prey the firmer. The stomach of the camel is well known to retain large quantities of water, unchanged, for a consider- able length of time. This quality fits it for living in the desert, where there is no water, and where, were it not for this provision, the animal could not live. A number of bags, sometimes thirty, are contained in the second stomach, which, after the animal has drank a large quantity of water, are filled ; and these bags are 198 NATURAL THEOLOGY. afterwards squeezed by a set of muscles made for the purpose, and the contents carried into the stomach, whenever thirst impels the animal to put the muscles in motion. The tongue of the woodpecker is a very singular contrivance. It is a particular instrument for a par- ticular use ; and what else but design could ever pro- duce it ? The woodpecker lives chiefly upon insects, lodged in the bodies of decaying trees. For the pur- pose of boring in to wood, it is furnished with a straight, hard, sharp bill. When by means of this piercer, it has reached the cells of the insects, then comes the office of the tongue. This is three or four inches long, tipped with a stiff, sharp, bony thorn, and what is most remarkable, this tip is jagged on each side, like the barb of a hook. The bird, having exposed the re- treats of the insects by the assistance of its bill, with a motion inconceivably quick, launches this long tongue at them, runs them through with the barbed needle upon the end, and thus draws its prey within its mouth. If this be not mechanism, what is ? How did the tongue get its barb and its hard tip ? They are decidedly proofs of mechanical organization, and of the skill in the Creator in providing for his creatures. THE ARGUMENT FROM THE PREPARATIONS BEFORE- HAND FOR THE WANTS OF ANIMALS. The wisdom of the Creator is clearly shown in that foresight by which provision is made for such wants of his creatures, as may arise from their peculiar condition. The human teeth afford a striking instance of this. The infant is to live by milk taken from its mother, and it can take its nourishment in, without teeth, much more con- NATURAL THEOLOGY. 199 veniently to itself and its nurse, than with them. Ac- cordingly it has no teeth nor do they come till about the time that it takes other food that may require teeth. We see the same careful foresight in providing that the horns of calves and lambs do not grow till they have done sucking, as they would be in the way in performing that operation. But in regard to the human teeth, a still further prospective contrivance is made, at the very beginning. The jaw of a grown person is much longer than that of an infant, and the first teeth are therefore entirely too small to fill the jaw of an adult. It is accordingly provided, that at the age of eight or ten years, the first set of teeth shall be shed, and larger ones come in their place. And the preparation for them is made at tne outset, a row of teeth being actually set in below the first, ready to grow when these are gone ! The providing of milk for young animals is another admirable proof of the designing wisdom of the Cre- ator. Milk is a fluid of a very nutritious quality, and no art of man can make it. As soon as the young are produced, the milk is ready for it, and not before. And how wonderful, how ingenious is the whole con- trivance by which young animals are provided with food, in a manner the most curious, and of a kind the most suitable ! The wisdom of the Creator is also shown by the re- lation which the structure of animals bears to their mode of life. The instances of this kind are numer- ous. There is a curious resemblance between the stomach of a hen and a corn-mill ; the crop answering 1 to the hopper, and the gizzard to the stones which 200 NATURAL THEOLOGY. crush the corn. But the most interesting point of re- semblance is this : to prevent too much corn from going into the stones at once, a receiver is placed between them and the hopper, so that it may be dribbled out just as fast as is required. The same process takes place in the hen, for though the crop may be filled, its food only enters the gizzard gradually, and as fast as that is able to digest it. Another instance of obvious fitness and adaptation of one part to another, is furnished in birds of prey. Owls, hawks, eagles, &c., by their talons and beaks, are qualified to seize and devour other birds and quad- rupeds ; and accordingly the gastric juice in the stom- ach of these birds, will act upon or digest flesh, but it will not digest seeds or grasses, or vegetables of any kind. On the other hand, the mouth of the ox and sheep is suited to the cropping of herbage ; and ac- cordingly we find the gastric juices of their stomachs will digest vegetable food, and not flesh ! There is another instance of striking fitness in a pro- vision of nature, which marks the intelligence of the Creator, and that is, that the eyes of all animals are placed in front, in the direction in which the legs move, and the hands work ; and therefore where they are most useful. How awkward would it be for us. if our eyes were in the- back of the head ! How com- paratively useless would the eyes of quadrupeds be, if placed behind ! Nature is full of such instances as these we have mentioned, all setting forth the intelligence and wis- dom of the Creator ; and not only displaying the marks of a designing and intelligent Mind, but intelli- NATURAL THEOLOGY. 201 gence in contriving and power in executing, which know no bounds. No obstacle seems to be presented that is not surmounted, and no contrivance to accom- plish an object seems to be adopted, that is not, all things considered, the best that could be devised. THE ARGTHHENT FROM THE MEANS ADOPTED TO COM- PENSATE FOR DEFECTS IN ANIMAL ORGANIZATION. Another fertile and interesting source of evidence of the wisdom of God, is found in the contrivances re- sorted to by the Creator, to compensate his creatures for certain defects in their organization. Thus the short neck of the elephant is compensated by the ad- mirable device of a proboscis, one of the most compli- cated and ingenious, but successful expedients of nature. The bat has a clumsy foot and leg, but to compen- sate for this, he is supplied with a hook on his wing, by which he suspends himself to a beam, or to the sides of rocks, and in this way he usually obtains his sleep. The crane, the heron, the bittern, are destined to live upon fish, yet they cannot swim. To make up for this deficiency, they are provided with long legs for wading, or long bills for groping, and sometimes with both. The common parrot would have an inconvenience in the very hooked shape of its upper jaw or mandi- ble, if like that of other birds, it was stationary, for in this case it could hardly open its mouth to take its food. But this hook being wanted by the parrot to climb and suspend itself with, to remedy the evil above mentioned, this upper mandible is capable of being ele- vated or depressed at pleasure. 202 NATUBAL THEOLOGY. There is a grub called the glow-worm, that gives out a phosphoric light in the darkness. Why is this ? That her mate may find her, for while she is a worm, he is a fly ; while she is on the earth, he is in the air. They would not be likely to meet, therefore, if some extraordinary means of uniting them was not resorted to ; but this Nature has foreseen and provided for. The spider's web is a compensating contrivance, of a very ingenious character. This creature was made to feed on flies ; yet how was it to catch them, for it had no wings ? This might seem to be a case of dif- ficulty, but the web is a net, and the spider is not only taught how to weave it, but his body furnishes the thread ! How ingenious, how wonderful, how multi- plied are the resources of the God of Nature ! In many species of insects, the eye is fixed, and cannot be turned in its socket. To supply this great defect, the eye is a multiplying glass, with a lens look- ing in every direction, and showing every object that may be near. Thus, what seemed at first a privation, by this curious and interesting expedient, is made to be an advantage, as an eye thus constructed seems better adapted to the wants of these creatures than any other. The common fly has four thousand lenses in each eye, and the butterfly thirty thousand ! The neck of the chameleon is stiff", and cannot be turned; how then is he to look about himself? It would puzzle most of us to contrive a remedy for this difficulty; but Nature seems never at a loss. The eye-ball stands out so far that more than half of it pro- jects from the head ; and the muscles operate so cu- riously, that the pupil can be turned in any direction. WATUBAL THEOLOGY. 203 Thus the chameleon, who cannot bend his neck, can do with facility what is difficult for most other animals he can look backwards even without turning his body! If we were to look upon a snail, and observe that it has neither wings nor feet, it would seem to be desti- tute of the common advantages bestowed upon crea- tures of this class. But its Creator has made up its deficiency in a very surprising manner. It is en- dowed with a viscid or sticky humor, which adheres to the stones, leaves, plants and fruits, and enables it to climb wherever it desires to go. A mussel u which might seem to be at the mercy of every wave, has the power of spinning long threads, by which it moors itself to a rock or timber, as safely as a ship at anchor. Birds have no teeth. "WTiat then are the fowls that feed on grain hens, turkeys, ducks, geese, pigeons &c., to do ? for they surely must have some means of grinding their food. All these are supplied by a pe- culiar and powerful muscle, called the gizzard ; the inner coats of this are furnished with rough plates, which break and grind the food, as effectually as a coffee-mill would do. Let the reader reflect upon this ; no animal has a gizzard that has teeth, for then it is not wanted ; but those which have not teeth and require grinding machinery for their food are supplied with it ! Recollect, too, that birds of prey that live on flesh, have no gizzard, for their food does not require to be ground in a mill ! Many animals, such as worms, are entirely without feet. How is this destitution to be compensated ? These NATURAL THEOLOGY. creatures are enabled to creep forward by means of rings strung together by muscles which contract and expand, or are drawn up and stretched out at the plea- sure of the animal. Thus the meanest creature is a collection of wonders, and demonstrates as clearly as the highest of Nature's works, the wisdom, power and resources of the Creator. THE ARGUMENT FROM ADAPTATION AND RELATION TO INANIMATE NATURE. One of the first proofs of this kind that strikes us, is in the adaptation of the wings of birds to flying in the air; of fishes to swimming in the water, and of other animals to dwell upon the earth. What knowledge of the several elements, does this adaptation display, and what admirable skill is shown in the several contrivances which fit the va- rious tribes of living things to their peculiar modes of life ! How wonderfully fitted for its purpose, is the ear ! It has within, a hollow space over which is a tight membrane, called the drum. When the air shakes or vibrates, this membrane vibrates also, and communi- cates a sense of sound to the brain. Its use depends entirely on the tendency of the air to vibration ; and its structure therefore shows that he who made the ear, understood the philosophy of the atmosphere per- fectly ; and why should he not, for it is his work ? The organs of the voice also show a complete know- ledge of the nature of air ; for they are so contrived as to produce a vibration of it, and thus communicate sounds to the ears of others. Is not this a surpass- ingly ingenious device ? You wish to communicate ideas to another person, and God has given you organs WATUBAL THEOLOGY. 205 by which these can be committed to the air ; or in other words, your voice has the power of producing such an infinite variety of vibrations of the air, as that all your ideas may be carried to another by means of this element ! How wonderful, how admirable is this ! what wisdom, what knowledge, what skill and power of workmanship does this display ! what adaptation of one part of the works of creation to another ; and what consistency of plan, what unity of purpose, are here unfolded ! The happy proportioning of one thing to another, shows also the wisdom of the Creator. Man, for in- stance, is adapted to the size and strength of a horse. If men were giants, they could not ride horses. If men were either pigmies or giants, they could not milk cows, mow grass, reap corn, train vines, or shear sheep, with anything like the convenience they do now. If men were pigmies, they would be lost in the grass and rushes, and their children would be carried off by birds of prey. Every one can see, that other things remaining as they are, man would suffer by being either much larger or much smaller than he is. The wisdom of God is also displayed in the corre- spondence of the powers and faculties of animals, with the earth they live in. It is a part of the plan of the Creator, that sleep shall be necessary to most animals ; and, accordingly, night is providedj in which every- thing becomes still and quiet, and adapted to repose. And consider that night, thus essential to animals, is produced by the revolution of the earth, and this revo- lution is but an obedience to the attraction which im- pels the planets in their courses. How remote then NATURAL THEOLOGY. is the cause of night ; how vast are the effects pro- duced by that cause, for all the worlds belonging to the solar system, are governed by it ; and perhaps millions of other worlds are under its influence. And yet night, which thus has its origin in the very foun- dation of the universe, is made for the chicken upon its roost and the child on its pillow. What a con- nexion is here shown, between the humblest animals and the very stars of the sky ! How wonderful is the adaptation of the different parts of God's works to one another ! How clear is the evidence of one all-design- ing Mind, one all- working hand in the universe ! THE ARGUMENT FROM INSTINCT. We see a young quail or partridge, in a few hours after it is hatched, run about and pick up seeds and eat them. It distin- guishes, as well as an old bird, between what is suit- able food, and what is not. Before it is two days old, it will immediately hide itself in the leaves and bushes if a hawk is seen, or if danger of any kind approaches. A young duck that has been hatched by a hen, and that for the first time sees the water, immediately runs to it, and launches himself upon it without fear, and with a perfect knowledge of the art of swimming, glides over its surface. In these cases, as well as many others, it is obvious that these creatures have something prior to experience and independent of in- struction, and that, this guides them into those .habits which by their formation they are fitted to follow. The young duck can have no lesson from the hen, teaching it to seek the water and to ride upon its bo- som, nor can it have had any experience to show it that it is fitted for such an exercise. Yet it goes to NATURAL THEOLOGY. 207 the brook as soon as it sees it, and as soon as it is on the wave it pushes itself forward with its paddling feet ! Now this property of the duck, which we see is independent of teaching and experience, is called instinct. It seems to pervade all animated nature, and is the great principle by which animals are guided in propagating their several species, and in obtaining the means of subsistence. It is a curious subject of in- quiry, and we shall collect several instances, in differ- ent animals, to illustrate it. The means resorted to by insects and birds to se- cure ihe hatching of their eggs, display wonderful powers of instinct. The gad-fly lays an egg, which first hatches a worm, and this afterwards becomes a fly. But the eggs are to be hatched and nourished in the intestines of a horse : how then are they to be laid? Flying round the animal, the female fly cu- riously poises her body in the air, while she deposites her eggs on the hairs of his skin, and when the horse licks himself, he swallows the eggs. But the most curious part of the story is, that these eggs are usually deposited on the knees and shoulders, and parts of the body that the horse most frequently licks ! The eggs or spawn of the salmon and the shad must be deposited near the sources of rivers. These fish- es, therefore, leave the ocean, and with incredible per- severance proceed up the streams, leaping over falls and shooting up the cataracts. Having, after proceed- ing hundreds of miles, found a proper place, they de- posite their eggs, and, leaving them to the course of nature, return to their home in the ocean. The eggs of the violet crab, which lives in the 208 NATURAL THEOLOGY. mountains of the West Indies, are hatched in the sea. To deposite them in their proper place, the crab makes a fatiguing journey of several months, deposites its eggs in the wave, and then retracing its steps, goes back to its home in the mountains. In all these cases, it is plain that these creatures act neither upon experience nor instruction. The young, of these several species, adopt the means usually re- sorted to by their kind, as readily as others. Nor can they be guided by love for their offspring, for they never see or know them. It is obvious, therefore, that they are impelled by that inward monitor which we call instinct, and which impels them to act as they do, without foreseeing consequences. It is equally clear, that birds, in constructing their nests, are gov- erned by the same principles. Canary birds hatched in a cage, proceed to build nests in the same man- ner as wild birds. They sit upon the eggs also in the same way. Having had no experience, and no communication with other birds of their kind, they must be influenced to act only as they do, by instinct. The extent of the power of instinct is still more remarkably displayed by birds in hatching their eggs. These having been laid by the female, she begins to sit upon them, sometimes, for a short space, giving place to the male. This severe restraint is submitted to for two or three weeks, during which the bird is often wasted away to mere skin and bone. What is it that induces the bird to do this ? She does not, she cannot know that young birds are to come from these eggs, for she will sit as well upon pieces of chalk, as upon her own eggs. NATURAL THEOLOGY. 209 She is guided in this by no knowledge of what is to happen. She is only influenced by that monitor within, which has made it a part of her nature. " For myself," says Dr. Paley, " I never see a bird sitting to hatch her eggs, but I see an invisible hand, detain- ing the contented prisoner from her fields and her groves, for a purpose, as the event proves, the most worthy of the sacrifice, the most important, the most beneficial." The instinct of quadrupeds is remarkable in many things. By means of it, the beaver is taught to gnaw down trees, taking care to have them fall into the water, with which it forms the frame of a house, and afterwards covers it over with mortar, using his tail as a trowel. But the lower tribes of animal existences, perhaps display the most remarkable powers of instinct. Among the ants we shall find that it seems almost to rival human reason, in the extent of its operations, and in the bees and spiders, we know that it surpasses even the boasted skill of man. But we have not space for farther details ; and we close this topic by directing attention to the amazing proofs of intelligence and wisdom in the Creator, who has devised and bestowed upon the unreasoning portion of his creatures, such varied and wonderful powers. GOD AS THE AUTHOR OF ANIMAL LIFE. Let us suppose that we could account for the creation of the bodies of animals, and for their instincts ; who then is the author of animal life ? The bodies of animals are composed of bones and muscles and flesh, &c. ; these consist only of matter, and matter of itself cannot N 210 NATT7RAL THEOLOGY. move. You place any piece of matter on the ground, as a stone, a bone, or a piece of flesh, and there it will rest forever, unless something that has the power to move it, comes to act upon it. Yet an animal has in his material body a power which we call life, and which can cause the muscles to act, and compel the body to move. This power is distinct from the material body, but it causes the heart to beat, the blood to circulate, the muscles to move, the body to act ; for as soon as life leaves the body, though its material form remains perfect, it ceases to move, and is dead. Now who put into the body this life ? Who invented, who constructed and adapted to the body, this mysterious power, that can exercise such influence over mere matter ? We might also inquire, who made the mind of man and endowed it with powers to pry into God's works, and even follow his footsteps into the remote depths of illimitable space ? We might direct attention also to the heavenly bodies, and ask who made those amazing orbs, and fitted them up with all their array of light and heat and air and life and beauty ? GOD THE SUSTAINS R OF ALL THINGS. But even these views give but a faint exhibition of the power of the Almighty. We must consider that He who made the violet made also the sun, which is three hundred and thirty-seven thousand times larger than our earth ; that He who made the butterfly dancing in the breeze, made the planet Mercury, which flies three hundred and fifteen miles every time your heartbeats ; that He who made the little sparrow made the planet Jupiter, which is one thousand two hundred and eighty-one NATT/RAL THEOLOGY. 211 times as large as this earth ; that He who made the squirrel leaping from bough to bough on yonder tree, made the comets which sweep through the heavens with fiery trains, millions of miles in length ; that He who made man, built the ocean and the land, and strewed the vault of heaven with stars, as the sea with pearls ! And now let us contemplate these things as all the work of one Being ; and let us consider that they are not only made by Him. but that every moment they call upon Him to sustain them. Let us remember that God has not only made plants and animals, but that if not continued, supported and carried forward by Him, they would instantly perish ; let us remember that but for Him the rivers would cease to flow, the air would be still, the planets would halt, the stars would be quenched from the sky. It is God who gives to all, life and motion. Let him take his power from them, and the kingdoms of Nature would be shrouded with everlasting forgetfulness. God, then, is the maker and sustainer of all things. We turn to the vegetable kingdom. Every leaf and stem and fibre is made by him ; each blade of grass is woven by His fingers. Day by day, hour by hour, he must be there to attend to the process of their manu- facture. And he must at the same moment attend to every blade of grass throughout the world, in the same way. In the same way, he must shape every leaf, unfold even- flower, and braid every stalk and stem. Think of the myriads of plants in a single field, and consider that God is attending every moment to every one of these, and not to these only, but to all others * 212 NATURAL THEOLOGY. that are in the universe ! To each of these he is every moment giving heat and light and moisture, and to each of these he is attending, more carefully than a nurse to an infant. Let us consider the insects. There are forty thou- sand species of these, and countless myriads of each species. The air, the land, the very depths of the sea are filled with them, and the Creator must attend to each one of them every moment. Where there is life and motion, there must He be, to sustain it. There He must be to mould the eggs, to endow them with life, to frame all the nice mechanism of the young, and to preserve that of the old. And beside, they must all be endowed with their several instincts. Every bee must be taught the wonderful art of making and stor- ing honey ; every ant must be instructed in the political economy of the hill ; each spider must be enabled to spin his thread of four thousand strands. The birds of the air claim the attention of their Maker. He must construct every feather, and mark it with the hues of its kind ; he must preside over the nice machinery of every wing the whole internal structure must be his. Every egg must derive the principle of vitality from his touch. Think of the myriads of the feathered tribes, that are scattered over the earth, in vale and meadow and mountain and marsh, along the pebbly shore of the deep upon the lonely seaward isles upon the bosom of the ocean and consider that every wing that winnows the air, every downy breast that divides the wave, must call upon God every moment for support. Think, too, that each and all of them are to be supplied by Him * NATURAL THEOLOGY. 213 with that teaching which alone enables them to sup. port existence, and to perpetuate their several races ! And the myriad fishes of the sea these too depend upon God. He must measure and fit the scales of the perch, he must construct the delicate bony frame-work of the fins and cover them over with their silky film. The little minnow nay, the minute eel of transparent water invisible to the naked eye and only to be dis- cerned by a microscope, must receive from God every bone and muscle and nerve. And while he attends to these, he is called upon to preside over the whale, to measure out the beatings of its heart, and impel the cataract of blood through its mighty veins and arteries ! And quadrupeds, too, depend upon God. Every one of them must have his frame built by the divine Architect ; every one of them calls upon God for his devising skill, his creative power, his sustaining care ; for while He watches over the squirrel of our forest, He must bestow his care upon the elephant and rhino- ceros of Asia and Africa ! And man too calls upon God every moment, for his attention and care. There are eight hundred millions of people in the world. In each there is a spine of twenty-four joints, with other nice machinery ; in each, there is a heart, and veins and arteries ; in each, that heart is beating at the rate of seventy strokes in a minute ; in each, the whole blood of the body is changed every four minutes ; and all this is the work of One God. And let us remember that while every blade of grass, every insect, every fruit, every quadruped, every living being throughout the universe, is receiving the p . - * 214 NATURAL THEOLOGY. care of the Almighty, He is heaving the planets along in their courses, and turning the mighty crank which keeps the whirling spheres in motion. Remember too that in each of these worlds there are probably races of beings like those on earth, claiming the care of their Creator ! BENEVOLENCE OF THE DEITY. If God, then, is the creator and sustainer of all things and if such is His wisdom and power, as proved by his works it be- comes a matter of the deepest interest to inquire into his disposition, with a view to discover whether he is a kind and benevolent being, or a cruel and malignant one. And now let us consider how we form an opinion of a person. Is it not by his conduct ? If we find one who is trying to make all around him happy, we call him kind and benevolent. If we see one who takes pleasure in making others miserable, in injuring their bodies or wounding their feelings, we say he is cruel and malevolent. It is in the same way we must form our opinion of God, by his works. Let us look abroad and see whether the creatures God has made be happy or not. And here we are to take into consideration only the things that feel, for earth, stones and plants, are mere matter, and are neither happy nor miserable. And what do we see among the multitude of animated and sentient beings around us ? " The air, the earth, the water," says Paley, " teem with delighted existence. In a spring noon, or a summer evening, on whichever side I turn my eyes, myriads of happy beings crowd upon my view. The insect youth are on the wing. Swarms HATUBAL THEOLOGY. 215 of new-bora flies are trying their pinions in the air. Their sportive motions, their wanton mazes, their gra- tuitous activity, their continual change of place with- out use or purpose, testify their joy, and the exulta- tion which they feel in their lately discovered facul- ties. A bee amongst the flowers in spring is one of the most cheerful objects that can be looked upon. Its life appears to be all enjoyment, so busy and so pleased ; yet it is only a specimen of insect Hfe, with which, by reason of the animal being half domesti- cated, we happen to be better acquainted than we are with that of others. The whole winged insect tribe, it is probable, are equally intent upon their proper employments, and, under every variety of constitution, gratified, and perhaps equally gratified by the offices which the Author of their nature has assigned to them. " But the atmosphere is not the only scene for enjoyment for the insect race. Plants are covered with insects called aphides, greedily sucking their juices, and constantly, as it should seem, in the act of sucking. It cannot be doubted but that this is a state of gratification. What else should fix them so close to the operation and so long ? Other species are run- ning about with an alacrity in their motion which car- ries with it every mark of pleasure. Large patches of ground are sometimes covered with these brisk and sprightly natures. " If we look to what the waters produce, shoals of the fry of fish frequent the margins of rivers, of lakes, and of the sea itself. These are so happy that they know not what to do with themselves. Their atti- NATURAL THEOLOGY. tudes, their vivacity, their leaps out of the water, which I have noticed a thousand times with equal attention and amusement, all conduce to show their excess of spirits, and are simply the effects of that excess. " Walking by the sea-side in a calm evening, upon a sandy shore, and with an ebbing tide, I have fre- quently remarked the appearance of a dark cloud, or rather very thick mist, hanging over the edge of the water to the height perhaps of half a yard, and of the breadth of two or three yards, stretching along the coast, as far as the eye could reach, and always retir- ing with the water. When this cloud came to be examined, it proved to be nothing else than so much space filled with young shrimps, in the act of bound- ing into the air, from the shallow margin of the water, or from the wet sand. If any motion of a mute ani- mal could express delight, it was this ; if they had meant to make signs of their happiness, they could not have done it more intelligibly. Suppose, then, what I have no doubt of, each individual of this number to be in a state of actual enjoyment, what a sum collec- tively, of gratification and pleasure have we here before our view. " The young of all animals appear to me to receive pleasure simply from the exercise of their limbs and bodily faculties, without reference to any end to be obtained, or any use to be answered by the exertion. A child, without knowing anything of the use of lan- guage, is in a high degree delighted with being able to speak. His incessant repetition of the few articu- late sounds, or perhaps of the single word he has learnt to pronounce, proves this point clearly. NATURAL THEOLOGY. 217 " Nor is it less pleased with its first successful endeavors to walk, or rather run, although entirely ignorant of the importance of the attainment to its future life, and even without applying it to any pres- ent purpose. A child is delighted with speaking without having anything to say ; and with walking, without knowing where to go. And prior to both these, I am inclined to believe that the waking hours of infancy are agreeably taken up with the exercise of vision, or perhaps, more properly speaking, with learning to see. " But it is not for youth alone .th^t the Great Parent of creation has provided. Happiness is found with the purring cat no less than with the playful kitten ; in the arm-chair of dozing age, as well as in either the sprightliness of the dance, or the animation of the chase." If then the creatures God has made are happy, let us consider the extent of that goodness, as set forth by considering the extent of the animal creation. We must not now confine our attention to man, but we must take into view the entire inhabitants of the globe. " Every part of the world is filled with living things. There are extensive marshes, impenetrable forests, deep caverns, and the more elevated parts of lofty mountains, where human feet have never trod. There is a vast body of water which covers more than two thirds of the surface of the globe, and the greater part of the atmosphere which surrounds the earth, which men cannot occupy as permanent abodes ; yet these regions of our world are not left destitute of inhabi- 218 NATURAL THEOLOGY. tants. Numerous tribes of animals range through the uncultivated deserts, and find ample accommodation, suited to their nature, in rocks and mountains, in dens and caves of the earth. " The regions of the air are filled with winged creatures of every kind, from the ostrich and the eagle to the numerous tribes of flying insects almost invisi- ble to the unassisted eye. The ocean teems with myriads of inhabitants which no man can number, of every form and size, from the mighty whale to the numerous tribes of medusa, of which several thou- sands of billions are contained in one cubical mile of water. Every sea, lake and river is peopled with inhabitants ; every mountain and marsh, -every wil- derness and wood is plentifully stocked with birds and beasts and numerous species of insects, all of which find ample accommodation, and everything necessary for their comfort and subsistence. " In short, every part of matter appears to be peo- pled ; almost every green leaf and every particle of dust has its peculiar inhabitants. Not only are the larger parts of nature occupied with living beings, but even the most minute portions of matter teem with animated existence. Every plant and shrub, and almost every drop of water, contains its respective inhabitants. Their number, in some instances, is so great, and their minuteness so astonishing, that thou- sands of them are contained within a space not larger than a grain of sand. In some small pools, covered with a greenish scum, of only a few yards in extent, there are more living creatures than there are human beings on the face of the earth. WATUKAL THEOLOGT. 219 u Multitudes of animals beings are found in situa- tions and circumstances where we never should have expected to perceive the principle of life. The juices of animals and plants, corrupted matter, smoke, dry wood, the bark and roots of trees, the bodies of other animals, the dirty puddle, and even the hardes^stones and rocks, serve to lodge, and in some measure to feed numerous tribes of living beings. The number of such creatures exceeds all human calculation and con- ception. There may be reckoned more than a hun- dred thousand species of animated beings ; many of these several species containing individuals to the amount of several hundreds of times the number of the human inhabitants of our globe. It is supposed by some, that the tremulous motion observed in the air during summer, may be produced by millions of insects swarming in the atmosphere ; and it has been found that the light which is seen on the surface of the ocean during the nights of summer is owing to an innumerable multitude of small luminous worms or insects sporting in the water ! " Such is the amazing extent and diversity of the animal creation of this earth ; it is a subject which exceeds the utmost stretch of imagination. Yet these thing's are all created for enjoyment, and they fulfil the design of their Creator. And we must remember that in this hasty sketch, we have only entered upon the threshold of creation ; and that we have no reason to doubt that the myriad worlds which fill the depths of space, teem with similar forms of life, and present to the gaze of the Omniscient, the same aspect of happiness. CHRISTIANITY. INTRODUCTION MAN AN IMMORTAL AND MORAL BEING. By investigating the works of nature, we find that everything seems adapted to fulfil the design of the Creator. The bird is made to fly through the air, and accordingly it has wings, admirably contrived for the purpose. The fish is made to live in the water, and accordingly it has fins, and all the other con- trivances suited to its destination. We perceive the same adaptation and provision throughout the whole range of nature ; and how is it with man ? He is a being of a higher order, and is of course made for a higher destiny. He has a mind, which is a thinking power. Man not only eats, drinks, sleeps and feels, as animals do, but he brings many ideas together, and reasons upon them, as ani- mals do not.* This reasoning part of man is evidently the princi- pal part of his nature, for the body is but little more than the instrument of the mind. Man, then, is an intellectual being, as the bird is a flying one, or the fish a swimming one ; and as we see that these are supplied with everything necessary to the ends they * There is no doubt that animals reason to some extent, but reason is not the leading, controlling faculty as in man. THE BIBLE. 221 are designed to fulfil, we may reasonably suppose, from analogy, that man, too, is provided with all that is needed to enable him to fulfil his destiny as an in- tellectual being. Now, one of the chief traits in man is a desire of happiness. This seems to lie at the very foundation of his character. He always acts upon it. He never for a moment forgets it. It is as much fixed in his nature, as attraction or gravitation in matter. The desire of happiness reaches to immortality. It is one of the great distinctions between man and ani- mals, that the former looks forward to futurity ; the latter, never. Anticipation is one of the leading char- acteristics of man, but it dwells not in animals : it is a faculty that belongs alone to mind. And man, of course, not only wishes for happiness, but for happi- ness forever. The idea that his soul shall be annihi- lated shall die, and cease to think and feel, is full of horror. And man not only wishes to continue to exist, to think and to act, but while he knows that the body will die, he has a presentiment, almost amounting to assurance, that his soul will live. He seems to feel within, the wing of a spirit that will fly to another world, when his limbs shall sink into the grave. Now if you approach a young bird in his nest upon a tree, when he is nearly ready to fly, he will leap from the nest, spread his wings, and throw himself upon the air ; and though he never tried his wings before, he will fly with considerable success. It is in- stinct that tells this bird he was made to fly. and as- sures him that he has a wing to fulfil his destiny ; and 222 THE BIBLE. if it be not instinct, it cannot be an inferior principle that tells man he has an immortal soul. It is, in point of fact, an almost universal belief, among all nations, that the spirit of man will still live, when the body is dead. Is man then made with a desire for immortality a confidence in a future state to be disappointed ? Has God made man a thinking being one that desires hap- piness and continued existence from the very neces- sity of his nature, and made him so that he expects such existence, only that he may lie down and die with the brutes that perish ? If God has done this, then He has not acted in that good faith toward man, which He has shown to His other creatures. For, having made the bird to soar aloft in the sky, God furnished it with the wings suited to His design ; intending the fish to occupy the water, He supplied it with paddles fitted for its element ; having made man to hope for immor- tality, and to expect immortality, if He destroys his spirit, and makes a mockery of both hope and expect- ation, He has acted with an inconsistency not to be traced in any part of His conduct to the mere animal tribes. It is true that, with all our study, we cannot pretend fully to understand the designs of the Creator, even in the works of nature which come under our observation. But there are so many instances in which we see con- trivances answering good and useful purposes, that whenever we remark any peculiarity of structure, or any peculiar faculty, we justly infer that it is meant for some good end, which it is fitted to accomplish. If, then, man's spirit is not immortal, to what good end, THE BIBLE. 223 for what good and useful purpose, is this principle of his nature, running through all races and every age, and leading him to feel assured of surviving the grave of the body ? If man is to perish in the tomb, to what end has nature inculcated this universal false- hood upon man ? Can we doubt that this general be- lief in a future state, corresponds to the truth ; and that it is designed to elevate the mind, to make it tri- umph over the body, and qualify it to enter upon its destined immortality? There is another principle in man, and which appears to be as extensive as the race. It is a feeling of obligation to do what is right. There are few per- sons, even among the most degraded savage tribes, in whom this feeling cannot be traced. If an individ- ual has done wrong, there is something within which upbraids him for it something which seems to sit in judgment upon his conduct, and bring in a verdict of guilty. This inward monitor is called conscience, and it distinguishes man from the mere animal creation. While animals are only governed by their interests, by their desires and appetites, man is made capable of acting from a sense of duty, and from a regard to the good of his fellow-men. He is made the subject of moral government. He can appreciate truth, kind- ness, charity, justice, candor, patience, benevolence, and other virtues ; and he can perceive the deformity of falsehood and other vices. Man, then, is an immortal being, and a moral being. There is something within his very nature which tells him to expect an existence beyond this world. He is THE BIBLE. so constituted as necessarily to desire happiness, and a voice within assures him that happiness depends upon his conduct. Now, as we observe that God has made provision suited to the various capacities of his other creatures and the lives they are destined to lead, might we not expect that He would give to man some revelation of his will, suited to his character as an immortal and moral being something beyond the mere light of nature, to give assurance to his hopes of immortality, to make plain the path of life ; to unfold the character of God, and point out the duty and des- tiny of man ? I have before said that the young bird feels that he is destined to fly, and that before he has ever tried to fly, he throws himself upon the air, and finds that he has a wing to support himself with. Instinct tells him that he is made to fly, and the fact conforms to the teaching of instinct. The young duck that has never tried the water, rushes into it without fear, for instinct tells him that he was made to swim, and accordingly he finds that he floats on the surface, and that he is provided with paddles to push himself along. Here, again, instinct is the voice of truth. The philosopher Galen once took a young kid, and before it had tasted any food brought it into a room where there were many vessels, some filled with milk, some with water, some with various other liquors, and some with grain and fruit. After a while the kid had strength enough to get upon its feet ; and it was with sentiments of strong admiration that the spectators saw it approach the liquors, grain and fruit placed around the room, and having smelt all of them, at last begin to sup the THE BIBLE. 225 milk ! Here instinct told the kid that he was made to eat milk ; that milk was his proper food ; and in- stinct did not lie. Instinct bids the migratory birds set forth upon long voyages in the air, often stretching across portions of the sea, assuring them that, without chart or compass, they shall go in safety and find a favored land ; and instinct tells them the truth. Such is the wonderful revelation of God to birds. Some principle similar to this teaches man that he is immortal, and the subject of moral government, and may we not feel sure that the fact conforms to this in- stinct? The human race, from the earliest ages to the present day, have been impressed with a belief in the immortality and responsibility of man. If this impression fe false, then, as before remarked, God has made man with an inward teacher that whispers false- hood to him. He has made the whole race and im- planted in them a false instinct. He has placed within them a principle which does not conform to truth and fact. He has therefore dealt with man as He has not dealt with any other of his works ; for we can- not find, throughout the whole range of creation, another instance in which universal instinct teaches universal falsehood. We may conclude, therefore, that this general impression of mankind as to the im- mortality and responsibility of the human race, is founded upon immutable truth ; for has God been true to the birds, and all his other creatures, and false to man ' Having then made man an immortal and moral being, might we not expect that he would support his hopes and expectations, as such, by clear and distinct THE BIBLE. revelation ? Without such a provision, would it not seem that something was wanting ; that there was an incompleteness in the provisions of Providence for man, at variance with that general care by which the Creator has provided for the wants of all other living things ? As the animals without instinct would need something to enable theni to fulfil their destiny, so, without a revelation, would not man be deficient in something essential to an immortal and moral being ? God, then, has granted a revelation to insects, to birds, to fishes, to quadrupeds. And this revelation is often most wonderful, for it gives the uninstructed in- sect the use of knowledge which human reason finds out with labor and difficulty ; it bestows, at once, upon the feathered voyagers the geographical results of the mariner's compass and the discoveries of Columbus ! All the knowledge they ask for, is given to the un- reasoning brutes. And man, who looks up to Heav- en with a thousand anxious inquiries is there no an- swer to these ? Is man the only creature that walks the earth in mystery ? Is man the only living thing that asks for revelation, and cannot find an ear to an- swer his request ? Surely man has reason to expect a revelation, which may dispel the fears, and doubts, and anxieties, to which nature, alone, would leave him. From this view of the subject, it would seem highly probable, beforehand, that God would give some reve- lation of his will to man, other than the mere light of nature. Let us now consider whether he has done this. It may be proper to remark, at the outset, that we THB BIBLE. 227 enter upon this inquiry with a strong probability on the affirmative side of the question. In looking over the world, we shall find several works claiming to be revelations from God. One of them is the Ko- ran or Alcoran, which was written by Mahomet, an Arabian, about 1200 years ago. This person pretend- ed to be a prophet, and to have communication with Heaven. The Koran consists of what he pretended to have been instructed by God to write. The Arabians were an ignorant and superstitious people, and Mahomet easily persuaded them that he was, in fact, a prophet that he had intercourse with Heaven that he was a man of exalted and sacred character, and that his pretended revelations were true. Mahomet soon found himself surrounded with fol- lowers, and he determined to use the power thus placed in his hands for his own selfish purposes. Ac- cordingly, he raised an army from among his disci- ples, and made war upon those who denied his preten- sions. Being a bold and skilful man, he soon made his name feared by all around him ; and thus the sword compelled men to submit to the lofty claims of the pretended prophet. In this way he laid the foundation of a religious faith, and in order to secure its observance and exten- sion, he established an empire, in all the dominions of which, submission to this faith was required. When he died, his successors continued to propagate his faith, and it thus became extended over a consider- able part of Asia. From that time to this, it has been the creed of a large portion of mankind. At 228 THE BIBLE. the present day, it prevails among the Turks of Eu- rope, and among many of the nations of Asia and Africa. It is not a difficult question for us to decide whether the Koran is a true revelation from God or not. There are several tests which we may apply to such a work, in order to determine its truth, all which, we shall see, concur in condemning Mahomet as a deceiver, and his work as an imposition. In the first place, Mahomet pretended to miraculous interviews with angels and flights to Heaven ; but he gives no proof of the fact, and on investigation, it ap- pears that these miracles were mere tricks and decep- tions. In the next place, Mahomet was a man of bad character, and he used the power he acquired for self- ish purposes ; and finally, the Koran itself is filled with absurdities. Thus the book and its author are condemned for the want of evidence to support their pretensions, from the selfish origin of the former, from the inconsistency of the character of Mahomet with his pretensions, and from the monstrous doctrines con- tained in his revelation. Among the inhabitants of Hindostan, there are sev- eral books which are called sacred, and which, for many ages, have been regarded by the people as divine revelations. But these too are unsupported by any proof from history that they came from God ; and though they abound in sublime truths, yet they are marred with passages of the grossest folly and ab- surdity. There are also in China, in Japan, in Thibet, and other countries, pretended revelations, either written THE BIBLE. 229 and preserved in books, or handed down by tradition, and propagated by the priests. But none of these can bear the test of rational examination they are all the offspring of human invention, illuminated by passages borrowed from the light of nature, or the early revela- tions of God to man, or from our own sacred Scriptures. There is but one work which can for a moment claim the confidence of an enlightened mind as a di- vine revelation, and this is the book which we call the Bible. If this does not contain a revelation of God's will, then there is none other than the light which na- ture affords. If this is not true, then man is left by his Maker without a lamp to guide him in his way through the labyrinths of life, uncertain of what he is, and doubtful of his duty and his destiny. HISTORY OF THE BIBLE. The Bible consists of va- rious books, written by different persons at different times. Some of these record historical events ; some repeat the words of prophets ; some express the feel- ings of pious men ; some relate chiefly to Christ and his apostles ; others inculcate points of doctrine. The Bible consists of two portions, called the Old and New Testament. The former were the sacred books of the Jews, and derived the name of testament from being understood to set forth a covenant between God and his chosen people, the Jews. The New Testament is so called from its being understood to set forth a new covenant between God and all mankind, which covenant, however, is regarded as but a com- pletion of that made with the Jews. The five first books of the Old Testament are said to have been written by Moses, about 3280 years ago. 230 THE BIBLE. These consist of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Num- bers, and Deuteronomy. They contain the history of the creation of the world, of the origin of the human race, of their increase, their great wickedness, and their destruction by the Deluge, with the excep- tion of Noah and his family. They also contain the history of Abraham, of Isaac and Jacob, of the bond- age of the Jews in Egypt, of their deliverance, and their wanderings in the wilderness. The other books of the Old Testament were written by various authors ; some of them are historical ; some prophetic ; and some poetical. These books appear to have been held in the highest reverence by the Jews from very early times. The books of Moses were deposited, according to the Bible, after his death, in the tabernacle, near the ark ; the other sacred wri- tings, it is said, were successively deposited in the same place, as they were written. After the building of the temple, they were removed by Solomon to that edifice. On the capture of Jerusalem by Nebuchad- nezzar, in the year 606, B. C., the original writings probably perished, but numerous copies were pre- served. The Jews returned from their captivity 536 B. C., and having rebuilt their temple and restored their reli- gion, it is said that the prophet Ezra, in connection with other learned men, collected all the copies of the sacred writings that could be found, and made out a new and correct edition, to which he is supposed to have made certain additions, as for instance the last chapter of Deuteronomy, which records the death of Moses. This revised and corrected copy, with the books of THE BIBLE. 231 Ezra, Malachi, and Nehemiah, which were added by Simon the Just, constituted the complete Jewish scriptures of the Old Testament, and are regarded as sacred by the Jews to the present day. These were all first written in the Hebrew language. The New Testament also consists of several books written by different authors. The four Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, record the life and death of Jesus Christ, and were severally written by the disciples whose names they bear. The Acts were written by Luke. The Jews reject the New Testament, all the books of which were originally written in Greek ; but the present acknowledged books were received by the early Christians, and copies of them were soon made in many languages. In modern times, the greatest pains have been taken to render the editions of the New and Old Testament correct ; and in order to accomplish this, hundreds of copies in different lan- guages have been compared, line byline and letter by letter. The several books of the Bible were originally written continuously, without division and without punctuation. They were formed into chapters and verses from the 13th to the 15th centuries. The punctuation is also of modern date. The English translation of the Bible in common use was made by command of King James I., of England, and forty-seveji learned persons were charged with the task. It was most elaborately and carefully prepared, and was first printed in 1611. Various attempts have been made to improve this 232 THE BIBLE. English version of the sacred writings, but none has met with approbation at the hands of the Christian public. MODE OF TESTING THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE BlBLE. Such is a brief history of the Bible, and the ques- tion we are to consider is, whether that book is true. Most of the writers, both in the Old and New Testa- ment, claim to have been inspired by God, and Chris- tians hold that these books contain a genuine Revela- tion of God's will to man. Are these claims well founded ? There are several kinds of proof which may be brought to bear upon the question of the truth of the Bible. The first is historical proof, by which we may show that these books are of great antiquity ; that they were actually written by the persons who profess to have written them ; that they have been held in reverence and regarded as true for ages, by those best qualified to judge of their authenticity, and that they truly record real events. Another kind of proof is derived from tracing a harmony between the several parts of the representa- tion, as well as an agreement with known and estab- lished historical dates and events ; a suitableness of style, and the development of great and sublime con- ceptions. Another kind of proof is that derived from miracles, and another, that deduced from prophecy, by which it may be shown that some of the scripture characters have foretold events which have actually come to pass. Another kind is negative proof, which is the want of evidence against the claims of the Bible. THE BIBLE. Let us in a very brief manner apply these several tests to the scriptures, and see the result. THE NEW TESTAMENT. Let us first direct our at- tention to the New Testament, which consists of 28 books. The first four, called the Gospels, purport to have been written by four of Christ's disciples, Mat- thew, Mark, Luke and John : the Acts of the Apostles are supposed to have been written by Luke. The Epistles to the Romans, Corinthians, Galatians, Ephe- sians, Philippians, Colossians, Thessalonians, to Timo- thy, Titus, Philemon, and to the Hebrews, are sup- posed to have been written by Paul. The other Epistles bear the names of their several reputed authors. The Book of Revelation claims to have been written by John, the author of the Gospel. The Gospels, as before remarked, are chiefly occu- pied in detailing the circumstances which attended the birth, the life and death of Jesus Christ. They relate that he was born in humble circumstances, that he was without education, and was chiefly occupied as a car- penter, till about thirty years of age. He then entered upon his ministry, and began to teach doctrines entirely new to the people and to the world. His life was blameless, and his manners were marked with a hu- mility and meekness never known before. He claimed to be sent by divine authority to communicate impor- tant truths to mankind, and to prove the justice of these pretensions, he wrought several miracles which were witnessed by thousands. He chose twelve persons from humble life to be his followers, and to them he taught his religion. He spent a great part of his time in Jerusalem, but made occasional visits to neighbor- 234 THE BIBLE. ing villages, and other places, especially his native province of Galilee. Wherever he went, he healed the sick, comforted the distressed, preached his doctrines, and wrought miracles to give efficacy to his creed. At length, agreeably to his own prediction, he was seized by the public authorities at Jerusalem, and patiently submit- ting, was abused, reviled, and finally nailed to a cross, where he died in extreme agony. He was put into a stone coffin, where his lifeless body lay for three days, when he arose from the dead. For forty days he now showed himself to his apostles, and spoke fully to them of the " things pertaining to the kingdom of God." " He commanded them that they should not depart from Jerusalem, but wait for the promise of the Fa- ther, which, saith he, ye have heard of me. " For John truly baptized with water ; but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days hence. " When they therefore were come together, they asked of him, saying, Lord, wilt thou at this time restore again the kingdom to Israel ? " And he said unto them, It is not for you to know the times or the seasons which the Father hath put in his own power. " But ye shall receive power after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you, and ye shall be witnesses unto me, both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth. " And when he had spoken these things, while they beheld, he was taken up ; and a cloud received him out of their sight. " And while they looked steadfastly toward heaven THE BIBLE. 235 as he went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel ; " Which also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven ? This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven. " Then returned they unto Jerusalem, from the mount called Olivet, which is from Jerusalem a Sab- bath-day's journey." Such is the memoir of Christ, handed down to us in the Gospels. The great end and design of his preaching is there represented to be to announce a new, peculiar, and most important revelation from God ; his miracles were intended to sanction the faith he thus taught ; his death was designed, in part, as a seal to the truth and divinity of his mission. His apostles were sent forth to inculcate the " good news," the " glad tidings," to all mankind, which Christ had published to the people of Judea. They were, in short, to propagate a new religion, which in its very nature held all other religions to be false, wicked and delusive. The period of these events, was about 1SOO years ago. At that time the whole of Judea was reduced to a Roman province. Rome had then extended her sway over nearly the whole civilized world. Her authority was generally well settled, and around the entire borders of the Mediterranean sea, easy and fre- quent communication was had between the several countries and the city of Rome, where Tiberius Cesar, then the emperor, resided. The art of printing was then unknown, and educa- 236 CHRISTIANITY. tion was not diffused among the people. Writing on parchment was, however, a common practice, and many books were written. There were many learned men at Rome, and the military and civil officers in the different provinces were mostly well educated, and made frequent written communications to the govern- ment at the capital. It was by no means a dark age, as it respected the means of reading and disseminating knowledge ; but was, on the contrary, near the precise period when Roman literature had reached its highest pitch of glory. The people of Rome had early adopted the fanciful mythology of the Greeks, with its numberless deities ; and wherever Rome had carried her conquests, she had transplanted this religion. The Jews still kept their sacred books, and maintained the forms of their peculiar religion ; but the spirit of the patriarchs and the prophets, which had dwelt with the people in for- mer ages, had now departed. Many of the Jews were in fact idolaters, and most of those who held to the faith of their fathers, had adopted the selfish and corrupt practical philosophy of the heathen around them. The fashionable religion the religion of the gov- ernment of the office-holders of the rich, the learn- ed, the fortunate and the powerful, and indeed of nearly the whole mass of the people throughout the Roman empire, then including nearly all Europe, a large part of Africa, and the greater portion of Asia was the religion of many gods, and involved the wor- ship of a great number of deities. To these, beautiful images and superb temples were everywhere erected. CHRISTIANITY. 237 Their peculiar rites and ceremonies were attended by multitudes of priests, and set forth with all the pomp and circumstance calculated to lead captive the imagi- nation of a superstitious age. The priests, too, were generally the agents and tools of the government, and as they sustained the ruling powers by all the influ- ence they acquired over the minds of their followers, so the government in return felt interested in giving their support to the idolatries of the priests. Such was the political condition of the world such the state of society such the fortified position of pa- ganism, at the time when it is said that Jesus Christ appeared to propound a new faith to mankind, and when, dying himself to attest its truth, he rose from the dead to assure his apostles, and to send them forth on their perilous errand of converting a world from their loved idolatries to a pure, self-denying creed. GENUINENESS AND VERACITY OF THE NEW TESTA- MENT. In our brief space we cannot enter fully into the argument to prove that the books of the New Tes- tament are genuine and true ; nor can we do more than glance at the train of remark, which seems suf- ficient to establish this point. In the first place, we have shown that a revelation of God's will, more full than is made manifest by the light of nature, was needed by man, and it was infer- red from analogy that it was reasonable to expect such a revelation. To this we may add, that Tacitus, an accredited Roman historian, states the fact that Christ was exe- cuted in Judea for his religion, and that the Christian faith rapidly increased and extended itself to other CHRISTIANITY. countries. Here is a confirmation of a material por- tion of the New Testament history, furnished by an unbeliever. We know that the only plausible account of Christ and the commencement of Christianity, that has been set up, is that of the New Testament ; for no other is brought forward by friend or foe. As Christianity did originate, as Christ lived and died for his religion, and as there is no credible rival story of these things, how can we reject that of the New Testament ? In confirmation of this, we find that all the Christian writers, from those who were companions of the apos- tles to the latest times, speak as if the New Testament account was the true one, and the only one. To prove that the books of the New Testament are genuine and authentic, that is, written by those to whom they are attributed, we may remark that there were, in very early times, multitudes of copies, in countries widely separated ; and that they were found in many languages. The style is also appropriate to their reputed authors. Christian writers and churches very early came to an agreement upon the subject. They are quoted by early writers, as of the highest authority ; they were early collected into a volume ; they were publicly read and expounded in the assem- blies of the early Christians ; they were received by different sects of Christians, were appealed to by them, and were attacked by their enemies, as containing the creed of the Christians. All these circumstances seem to afford conclusive evidence of their authenticity for all those who had the best opportunity to judge, concur in one opinion on this point. CHRISTIANITY. 239 In proof of the truth or veracity of the New Testa- ment history, we may appeal to the candor of the writers : the naturalness of their mode of writing ; the wonderful unity or harmony of Christ's character ; the remarkable accuracy of the historical details and allu- sions to manners and customs, when compared with Jewish writers ; the originality, wisdom and elevation of Christ's doctrine, entirely beyond the capacity of the evangelists to invent ; the purity and exaltation of Christ's character, the greatest ever conceived, and above all human invention ; the rapid extension of Christianity in Jerusalem and Judea, where the best possible means for investigating its claims existed, and where conviction of its truth, founded upon evidence, must have been, in part, the means of propagating it. To prove the divine mission of Christ, we might refer to his morality ; to the originality and sublimity of his doctrines ; to the purity of his character, sur- passing every human example; to his incontestable miracles ; to the prophecies of the Old Testament, ut- tered before he came, and literally fulfilled in him ; to his own remarkable prophecy of the destruction of Je- rusalem, which afterwards came to pass as he had pre- dicted ; to the success and final triumph of his religion, aided by no wealth, or power, or artifice, yet opposed by interested governments, potentates and priests, by established prejudices, and the suggestions of the self- ish human heart. Is it possible for all these signs and evidences of truth to fail ? If a person embraces the belief that the New Testament is a fable and Christ an impostor, does he not take the improbable and incredible side of the 240 CHRISTIANITY. question ? Let us consider how difficult it is for a rogue to fabricate a story without exposing himself to certain detection, and we shall see the force of demon- stration which belongs to this accumulated evidence, in favor of the truth of the New Testament. How difficult it is for a counterfeiter even of bank notes to escape exposure ! How nearly impossible for a murderer to secure himself from discovery ! How easily all the artifices and disguises of thieves, robbers and pickpockets, in framing their stories, are frustrat- ed ! And yet the Gospel has stood to this day, defy- ing every charge of inconsistency, every refutation of fact, every contradiction from history ! Every engine of wit, malice, ridicule, logic, criticism, eloquence, learning and ingenuity, has been brought to bear upon it, without avail. It has stood the test of time, the sifting of ages. Is such a work now to be set down as only a cunningly devised fable ? A man who wishes to escape receiving the greatest of miracles, must be- lieve the story of the evangelists ; for never has such a weight of evidence been accumulated in favor of a falsehood, as prophecy, history, analogy, and human events have heaped up in favor of the truth of the New Testament, and the divinity of Christ's mission. If these evidences lie, then a miracle has been performed to which human history furnishes no parallel ; then human reason is a misguiding light, and the acknow- ledged tests of truth are but evidences of falsehood. INSPIRATION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT BOOKS. Having come to the conclusion that the books of the New Testament are historically true, and that Christ was a divine messenger, we come now to consider CHRISTIANITY. 241 whether the writers of these works were inspired by the Spirit of God, and whether the doctrines therein contained lay just claim to the belief and observance of mankind. The divine authority of Christ is proved by the prophecies concerning him ; by the miracles he wrought ; by the sublimity and originality of his doc- trines, his morality and his character. "We cannot doubt then that he was sent of God. And for what purpose was he sent ? Unquestionably to reveal truth ; for God would not grant such power as Christ possessed and exercised to an impostor or a fanatic. God would not have bestowed the gift of prophecy upon Isaiah and others to predict the coming of Christ, and persuade mankind to believe in him, if he was to be a deceiver or a cheat. We are bound then to consider Christ as delivering the WORD OF GOD : but the question now before us is, did the evangelists accurately represent what Christ said ? We have the best reason to believe that they did, and that in writing their histories they were aided by the Spirit of God, and thus preserved from essen- tial error. This is the view taken of the Gospels by the early Christians, those who had communion with the apostles, and who had the best possible means of knowing the truth. Besides, the general harmony of the Gospels in every material respect ; the simplicity and beauty of the narratives ; the unity with which ' Christ's doctrines are represented, and the power with which his exalted character is delineated ; the remark- able preservation of these books ; their efficacy in ele- vating and purifying the heart, attested by Christians p SJ4Si CHRISTIANITY. of all ages ; these are considered incontestable evi- dences that the Spirit of God has ever watched over these writings inspiring them in the first instance, and guarding them from destruction or essential mutation in after times. Some of the same arguments apply to the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles ; besides which, the writers of some of the New Testament books expressly claim to be aided by divine inspiration. This claim, coming from apostles sent by Christ, and who wrought miracles in attestation of their authority, cannot be resisted. We are safe then in admitting the inspira- tion of the New Testament; nay, are we not con- strained by force of evidence to consider this point as settled ? INSPIRATION OF THE OLD TESTAMENT. Having shown that the New Testament is authentic, histori- cally and doctrinally, and is in short a genuine reve- lation of God's will to man, let us consider the title of the Old Testament to our confidence, as a series of inspired books. The Jews claimed, in the time of Christ, as they claim now, that the books of the Old Testament are of divine authority. This claim is fully admitted by Christ and his apostles ; and these, as we have shown, having been sent of God, to communicate truth to man we are certainly bound to receive their sanction of the Old Testament as authoritative with us. This is a part of their testimony, and we cannot gainsay it. Besides, let us look at the intrinsic evidences of the divine origin of the books of the Old Testament. These contained the religion of the Jews ; from these CHRISTIANITY. 243 books alone the Jews derived their notions of God the relation that He sustains to man, and man to Him. In these respects, how vastly superior were the Jews to all other ancient nations, while in everything else they were inferior to the Egyptians, Persians, Greeks and Romans. It has been remarked that in religion the Jews were men, while other nations were children ; in all worldly knowledge they were children, while others were men. How did it happen that an ignorant and unenlight- ened people should have possessed from the earliest ages true notions of the Deity, exalted views of his character, eloquent and sublime delineations of his works, while other nations, even those which had risen to great perfection in various arts, and had pro- duced philosophers and poets who even now chal- lenge the admiration of mankind, were groping in religious and moral darkness, unable to discover even a ray of that glorious light, which all this time was shining in the books of the Old Testament among the obscure, illiterate, despised Jews ? Let us make a comparison. Homer is admitted to have been a man of great genius. He is usually regarded as the greatest and most sublime poet that ever lived. His works have come down to us, nearly perfect. They indeed display a vigor of fancy, a power of invention, a knowledge of human nature, fully entitling him to the great name that is assigned to him. A considerable portion of his works are devoted to religious topics. His system of theology is, that there 244 CHRISTIANITY. are a multitude of gods and goddesses, over whom there is one great presiding deity. These he has portrayed with all the force of his inimitable pencil. And yet what are they ? The sublimest conceptions of this master-poet represent the best and greatest of these deities as filled with the vilest of human pas- sions, and tarnished with the coarsest and grossest of human vices. In religion, then, Homer is a child ; with the pow- erful wing of genius, he cannot rise above the vulgar theology of his day and generation ; his noblest con- ception of God is Jupiter, who would, on earth, be a very bad, unprincipled and despicable man. Homer is reputed to have lived about 900 years before Christ, and to have been brought up among a people more civilized and farther advanced in knowl- edge than the Jews at the same period of time. He appears also to have been a man of considerable learn- ing, and has been thought to have travelled in Egypt, then the great centre of civilization and philosophy. About the same age, or perhaps 100 years after, Isaiah, the prophet of the Jews, flourished. He was not a man of genius ; he had no advantages of general instruction ; he was inferior to Homer in knowledge and learning ; he had had no advantages from travel, or intercourse with enlightened people. In every- thing belonging to education, he was far below the children in our common schools, for they are taught a vast deal that Isaiah never knew. And yet Isaiah, in his conceptions of the Deity, not only put Homer to the blush, but no after age has been able to rival his pages. He not only conceived the grand idea of CHRISTIANITY. 245 ONE GOD, the truth of which subsequent ages have demonstrated, but he delineated God's character with a beauty, power and sublimity, that has never been equalled. Let us quote a few passages. "Thus saith God the LORD, he- that created the heavens and stretched them out ; he that spread forth the earth, and that which cometh out of it ; he that giveth breath unto the people upon it, and spirit to them that walk therein : I the LORD have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thy hand, and will keep thee, and give thee for a covenant of the people, for a light of the Gentiles : to open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison-house. I am the Lord : that is my name : and my glory will I not give to another, neither my praise to graven images." Isaiah, ch. xlii. " I am the Lord, and there is none else, there is no God besides me : I girded thee, though thou hast not known me : that they may know from the rising of the sun, and from the west, that there is none besides me. I am the Lord, and there is none else. I form the light, and create darkness : I make peace and create evil : I the Lord do all these things. Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the skies pour down righteousness : let the earth open, and let them bring forth salvation, and let righteousness spring up together; I the Lord have created it." "For thus saith the Lord that created the heavens ; God him- self that formed the earth and made it ; he hath estab- lished it, he created it not in vain, he formed it to be inhabited : I am the Lord ; and there is none else. I 246 CHRISTIANITY. have not spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth : I said not unto the seed of Jacob, Seek ye me in vain : I the Lord speak righteousness, I declare things that are right." " Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth : for I am God, and there is none else. I have sworn by myself, the word is gone out of my mouth in righteousness, and shall not return, That unto me every knee shall bow, every tongue shall swear." Isaiah, ch. xlv. " For the Lord shall comfort Zion : he will comfort all her waste places ; and he will make her wilder- ness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody. " Hearken unto me, my people ; and give ear unto me, my nation: for a law shall proceed from me, and I will make my judgment to rest for a light of the people. My righteousness is near ; my salvation is gone forth, and mine arms shall judge the people ; the isles shall wait upon me, and on mine arm shall they trust. Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath : for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment, and they that dwell therein shall die in like manner : but my salvation shall be forever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished." Isaiah, ch. li. Now let any one read these verses and compare them with all that heathen antiquity has produced respecting the Deity, and let him say how an igno- rant man, in an unlettered age, and among an unen- lightened people, could have risen to conceptions, so CHRISTIANITY. 247 lofty in themselves, and so superior to all that his cotemporaries produced, but by the aid of inspiration. What could have made Isaiah so much greater than Homer, but this ? Let us make a few extracts from the prophet Ha- bakkuk, who flourished about a century after Isaiah. The following passage from the third chapter, is according to the translation of Archbishop Newcombe. " God came from Teman, And the Holy One from Mount Faran : His glory covered the heavens, And the earth was full of his praise. His brightness was as the light : Rays streamed from his hand ; And there was the hiding-place of his power. Before him went the pestilence, And flashes of fire went forth after him. He stood and measured the earth ; He beheld, and drove asunder the nations. And the everlasting mountains were scattered, The perpetual hills bowed down, The eternal paths were trodden by him. **##*:* The mountains saw thee, and were troubled ; The overflowing of waters passed away : The deep uttered its voice, It lifted up its hands on high. The sun and the moon stood still in their habitation. In the light of thine arrows they vanished, In the brightness of the lightning of thy spear ! In indignation thou didst march through the land, In wrath thou didst thresh the heathen. Thou wentest forth for the deliverance of thy people, Even for the deliverance of thine anointed. 248 CHRISTIANITY. * * * # * * Although the fig-tree shall not flourish, And there be no produce in the vines ; The fruit of the olive shall fail, And the fields shall yield no food ; The flocks shall be cut off from the fold, And there be no herd in the stalls ; Yet will I rejoice in Jehovah, I will exult in the God of my salvation. The Lord Jehovah is my strength. He will make my feet like hind's feet, He will cause me to tread on mine high places." These are the Avoids of another Jewish prophet ; and what is there in any ancient heathen writer that gives us such sublime ideas of God ? And how was this obscure man able to surpass the boasted genius of Greece and Rome ; how did he transcend all that the human mind has since been able to produce, but through the gift of inspiration ? PROPHECIES FULFILLED. We might here adduce several prophecies of Isaiah and others, respect- ing our Saviour, and show their fulfilment, but we choose rather to cite examples in which the fulfilment exists in our own days, and before our eyes. In the time of Isaiah, Babylon, situated upon the river Eu- phrates, was a city of the greatest magnificence. It was about forty-eight miles in circumference, and was defended by walls of vast height and thickness. It was the capital of the great empire of Assyria, and was enriched by her emperors with the spoils of the East. It was indeed a great and proud city, and re- joiced in its splendor. Nothing could seem more im- probable than that this metropolis should be destroyed, CHRISTIANITY. 249 and the very place where it stood become a scene of desolation ; yet the prophet lifted up his voice and pronounced its doom, in the following remarkable passages : " The noise of a multitude in the mountains, like as of a great people ; a tumultuous noise of the kingdoms of nations gathered together ; the Lord of hosts mus- tereth the host of the battle. They come from a far country, from the end of heaven, even the Lord, and the weapons of his indignation, to destroy the whole land. " Howl ye ; for the day of the Lord is at hand ; it shall come as a destruction from the Almighty. There- fore shall all hands be faint, and every man's heart shall melt ; and they shall be afraid ; pangs and sor- rows shall take hold of them ; they shall be in pain as a woman that travaileth; they shall be amazed one at another ; their faces shall be as flames. Be- hold, the day of the Lord cometh, cruel both with wrath and fierce anger, to lay the land desolate ; and he shall destroy the sinners thereof out of it. For the stars of heaven and the constellations thereof shall not give their light; the sun shall be darkened in his going forth, and the moon shall not cause her light to shine. And I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked for their iniquity ; and I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible." " And Babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chaldees' excellency, shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah. It shall never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation 2OU CHRISTIANITY. to generation: neither shall the Arabian pitch tent there; neither shall the shepherds make their fold there ; but wild beasts of the desert shall lie there ; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures ; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there. And the wild beasts of the islands shall cry in their desolate houses, and dragons in their pleasant palaces : and her time is near to come, and her days shall not be prolonged." Isaiah, ch. xiii. About a hundred years after this prediction, Baby- lon was taken by Cyrus, king of Persia, and from that time it continued to decline. It gradually sunk into insignificance, and, in spite of attempts to revive its former splendor, it at last became a heap of ruins. Modern travellers have frequently visited the spot, and they tell us that the scene corresponds literally with the preceding predictions. In the desolation which now marks the site of the ancient city there are nu- merous caves, where even the identical birds and ani- mals mentioned by Isaiah are found to have taken up their abode. Here, then, is an existing witness to the literal truth, and exact fulfilment of prophecy, that cannot be resisted. To this we might easily add other instances equally striking. It was predicted by one of the prophets, of Ishmael's descendants, that " their hand should be against every man, and every man's hand against them." The Arabs are the posterity of Ishmael, a wild and wandering race, living apart from the rest of the world, and robbing those they meet. This is their character, and it has been so for ages. Could any- thing be more descriptive of this peculiar people than CHRISTIANITY. 251 this prophecy, uttered of them thousands of years ago? The Jews, too, afford a wonderful proof of the truth of ancient predictions. It was said that " they should be plucked from off their own land, and removed into all the kingdoms of the earth," and behold it is done. It was said that they should " be led away qaptive into all nations, arid Jerusalem be trodden down of the Gentiles ;" and this is literally accomplished. Other passages speak of their final restoration to Jerusalem, the land of their fathers ; and scattered as they are, they are still a distinct people, and seem to stand ready for the appointed time to fulfil this prediction. REVIEW OF THE ARGUMENT. The claim of the Old-Testament books, to be regarded as " given by inspiration," rests then upon very strong grounds. This claim had been maintained by the Jews for ages, and Christ with his apostles, expressly sanctioned it. The testimony of witnesses, shown to have been sent of God, ought to be conclusive. But the argument is strongly fortified by other con- siderations. These books contained ideas entirely above the ages in which they were produced. If we do not refer their origin to inspiration, it is impossible to account for them. While all other nations were in total religious darkness, a light is kindled in the midst of one of the most ignorant and unenlightened of all nations, by obscure and illiterate men, which gathers brightness as time advances, and at length, rising to the sky, becomes the sun of even our enlightened age ! Could such a light be created by ignorance and weakness, among a people remarkable for their intel- lectual degradation ? It would seem that one might 252 CHRISTIANITY. positively answer in the negative. The most rational supposition surely is, that God supplied the fire, by which his ministers kindled the light of truth, and which since, aided by a clearer revelation, has illu- minated the world. It was inspiration, then, that gave Isaiah the advantage over Homer, and enabled a man of common mould to surpass the greatest human genius, as much as a giant's strength is superior to an infant's ; that bestowed on the minstrelsy of Habak- kuk, a sublimity which no earth-strung lyre can rival. It was the books of the Old Testament that elevated the minds of the Jews to the one true God, while the learned Egyptians were worshippers of ser- pents and monkeys, and while the polished Greeks and magnificent Romans, were led captive by the pol- luted and polluting rites of imaginary divinities. To this satisfactory argument, we add the proofs derived from prophecy. We have shown that the power of foretelling events was actually given to the Jewish prophets : we know that their predictions were uttered thousands of years ago, and we have before us enduring witnesses to their literal fulfilment. What higher evidence can be given of divine inspiration, than a power which enables man to penetrate the depths of the future, and reveal what is to come to pass ? This is the attribute of God alone, and he who possesses it, comes to us with God's seal set to his commission. Thus the proofs of the divine origin of the Old Testament are threefold consisting of the testimonies of Christ and his apostles ; the sublimity of its doc- trines and its superiority to all cotemporary human CHRISTIANITY. 253 productions, or human productions of any age ; and the gift of prophecy, possessed by many of its writers. These three strands, like those which are twisted together in a cable, render the argument so strong, that the human understanding may safely attach to it its anchor of faith, fearing not that the tempest shall ever prevail against it. The Bible then is true : it is the WORD of GOD. It is so received, by the mass of mankind, among the most highly educated nations of the world. It has been attacked, but it has come off triumphant in every trial. Investigation has only served to multiply the proofs of its veracity. Time, which tests the validity of every institution, and which has exploded a multi- tude of errors once entertained by mankind, has sanc- tioned the scriptures, and is continually adding to the evidences of their divine origin. It is now more than seventeen centuries since the Bible was completed. From that time it has been received as a revelation from Heaven, by all Christians. And how many millions of individuals have found it to be all they could hope or desire in a revelation of God's will ! How many millions have found in its sacred pages consolations and joys which the world could neither give nor take away ! We have the tes- timony of millions of former ages, and of millions now on the earth, that the Bible has proved itself to them, in their own experience, to be possessed of a power beyond all other writings, a power which elevates them above the fears or hopes, the joys or sorrows, of this life. There is another evidence, of a negative kind, un- 254 CHRISTIANITY. folded by time, which is, however, very strong in favor of the scriptures. These were all written long ago, when science was in its infancy. Astronomy, Geo- graphy, Natural History, Geology, now so well under- stood even by schoolboys, were then but partially com- prehended. Even in the time of Christ, not one third part of the surface of the globe had been traversed by man ; the shape of this earth was unknown ; the solar system and its revolutions were not reached even by conjecture. The animal races had not been scientifi- cally investigated, and the structure of the earth, as unfolded by modern geology, had not been the subject of inquiry. Yet in respect to most of these topics, we find nume- rous passages in the Old and New Testament. How is it to be accounted for, that these writers have been preserved from running into fatal mistakes, when they were discoursing upon things of which they, with the age, were ignorant, but which modern science has unfolded ? This argument is of great weight. How is it possible to resist the obvious inference that God's Spirit has presided over every page of the Bible and protected it from fatal error ? If the Bible had been a mere human production, the work as it is of about thirty different persons, it appears certain .that it must have contained statements that would have been plainly contradicted by facts resulting from modern discovery. DIFFICULTIES ANSWERED. If the evidence in favor of the Bible is thus so strong, why should any person reject it ? It is said there are difficulties. There are some passages in one part of the Bible which at first CHRISTIANITY. 255 sight seem to contradict others ; some parts, also, are obscure and of doubtful interpretation. Beside, Chris- tians, who believe the Bible, do not conform fully to its precepts ; Christians too are divided as to its mean- ing in certain important respects. Christian nations, like others, engage in war, and are marked with pre- valent vices. Miracles are objected to as hard to be believed. These, and other difficulties, have often been urged against the scriptures. We admit that difficulties exist ; but there are four obvious answers to be made, and they ought to be satisfactory. The first is, that all these allegations against the Bible have been fully and fairly investigated, both by ministers of religion and by laymen, and have been satisfactorily reconciled with the substantial truth of the sacred scriptures. The second is, that the difficulties suggested are rather apparent than real ; and there is abundant evi- dence that, to a candid and well-disposed mind, they are by no means insuperable. A person who sits down to the reading of the scriptures, with a perfect willingness to receive the truth and abide by the result, is never driven by these difficulties to infidelity. In religion, God may deal with man as in nature. To gain the good things of life, we must sow, and toil, and cultivate, else we cannot enjoy the harvest. God has not, in this, taken away the necessity of exertion to man, for man's constitution requires exertion. So in religion God has not taken away man's free agency. He has not revealed his will in such a manner as to compel belief, so that in belief there is no exercise of 256 CHRISTIANITY. the will, and therefore no virtue. But God has given to man good and satisfactory proofs that in the Bible he has bestowed a revelation of his will, and if man will, as in nature, cultivate these proofs with a willing- ness to reap the harvest, he will surely be blest with success. Beside, we may believe that the difficulties in religion have led to investigation, and to an excite- ment of men's minds, favorable to an increase of inter- est in the subject. Discussion, like the autumn winds which scatter the seeds of summer, has undoubtedly extended the knowledge and multiplied the fruits of religion. The third answer to the difficulties suggested, is, that if they are permitted to sweep away the Bible as a fable and a falsehood, we permit the weak to prevail against the strong, and trample down with mere doubis, a mass of wisdom never yet accumulated in favor of a lie. We contradict the acknowledged principles of human reason, which require us to let our belief go with the scale in which the weight of evidence pre- ponderates. We deal with the Bible as we do not with any other ancient writings; we believe in Taci- tus, and Homer, and the shadowy forms of profane antiquity ; but we distrust the prophets, and the evan- gelists, and Christ, and Paul ! We listen to the voice of tradition, when it tells us of battles and garments rolled in blood, but we turn an ear of incredulity to the Christian fathers, to the companions of the apostles, to martyrs who sealed their faith in triumph over tor- tures and death. The fourth answer is, that if the Bible is not true, then man has no other revelation of God's will than CHRISTIANITY. 2-57 the dim light of nature ; man is a mystery to himself, and all around him is mystery. If the Bible is false, God has not dealt with man as with his other crea- tures. To the animal creation he has given a clear and decisive revelation. Instinct is to them a guide, and it answers all the purposes for which it was in- tended. It comes fully up to the wants of these crea- tures. Various kinds of water birds, as we all know, are under the necessity of making long migrations, and often are obliged to cross broad sheets of water. Who bade the stork; Columbus-like, explore Heavens not his own. and worlds unknown before ? Who calls the council, states the certain day, Who forms the phalanx, and. who points the way ?" God has done all that is necessary for these feathered voyagers ; and yet, if the Bible is false, he has ele- vated man to a higher flight, and left him without chart or compass, to wander in hopeless doubt and unappeasable anxiety. Is such a supposition consist- ent with the analogy of nature ? If God has not made provision to guide the mind of man, when he has filled it with hopes, expectations, and anticipations of immor- tality, has he not dealt by the stork as he has not by man ; has he not revealed himself to the feathered tribes, and shut himself from the spirit of man ? Has he not made all things clear to the animal world ; and all things mysterious to man ? The difficulties, then, in the way of receiving the scriptures as the word of God, if permitted to over- power our judgment, only run us into other and more formidable difficulties. It ought to be proof to us, if they unsettle our faith, of a want of proper balance in o. 258 CHRISTIANITY. our minds, and should be regarded as a just ground of alarm. The subject is too serious for mistake. If the Bible is true, God is with us, and shall we listen ? shall we obey ? The true happiness of life, the bliss of eternity, are involved in the question. Interests of indescribable value are at stake. Shall we believe, or take the alternative presented by Christ and his apos- tles ? GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF GOVERNMENT. The neces- sity of Government must have been discovered in the first human family. If a child is not restrained, he will run into the fire, leap out of the window, break the furniture, injure his companions, or set the house on fire ; he must therefore be governed. The larger children must be prevented from striking and wounding the younger ones ; from taking away their food, &c. These too must be governed. Without government, a family would be in a state of confusion and anarchy ; its necessity therefore must have been discovered by Adam and Eve. The first government must consequently have been family gov- ernment, and this doubtless suggested the patriarchal form, which must have soon followed. When Adam became a great-grandfather, with numerous descend- ants around him, he was likely to have an authority founded in reverence and affection, and this would lead him to be regarded, and applied to by the people as a judge, a counsellor, and, in short, a ruler. Prob- ably Adam was the first patriarch, and the first politi- cal chief. In the first ages of the world, the people were chiefly husbandmen, as they had flocks, with which they wan- dered from place to place. As each party separated GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. f from the rest, they were likely to take some experi- enced man with them, who would be their patriarch. When the tribes increased and extended their limits, and the ties of blood were forgotten, they were likely to meet and contend for the mastery. In these strug- gles, the strong, the daring, or the skilful warrior was likely to become the leader, and at length to receive or usurp authority. It is probable that Nimrod, the mighty hunter, was one of those who became the head of his tribe, and, at length, laid the foundations of Babylon. He was, doubtless, a very ambitious man, and ex- tended his domain over various countries on and around the plain of Shinar. He thus established an empire and became a despotic sovereign. In order to increase his authority, and to place his throne on a strong basis, he taught the people to consider him as ruling by divine right, and at last claimed their wor- ship of himself as a divinity. He also, no doubt, made the monarchy hereditary in his family. The example of Nimrod seems to have been follow- ed by all the sovereigns of Assyria, during its continu- ance of 1700 years. The power of the emperor or king was always absolute, and his claim to divine au- thority was ever maintained. No instance is recorded in which the right of the sovereign to reign was ques- tioned, nor are we told of a single individual in these ancient days, who ever conceived the idea that the people had any right to govern themselves. Even when the government was just, and consulted the hap- piness of the people, it flowed only from the mercy of the sovereign. GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 261 The despotic system of this first empire appears to have been followed throughout the rest of Asia, and to some extent in Egypt ; and we observe no traces of any other ideas of government than that of unlimited power in the hands of a king or chief or the priests, except among the Hebrews. Persia, a vast empire, that rose upon the ruins of the Assyrian empire, adopted the same despotic form of government, and the emperor ruled in the same arbitrary manner. He had unlimited power over the people. If the king was supposed to be bound to govern wisely and righteously, his people were equally bound to serve him as sub- jects and slaves. About 1500 years before Christ, the seeds of learn- ing and arts are wafted from Egypt to Greece, and here, after five hundred years, they spring up and flourish. It is in Greece that the first clear ideas of human rights, and of human government to secure them, are disclosed and attempted to be realized. Here we see a people rising to a high degree of civilization and power through the influence of freedom, yet, for the want of a solid basis of religion and morality in society, finally crumbling to pieces ; leaving, where a blaze of light once sent forth its illumination far and wide, but a ghastly heap of ruins. Rome, borrowing something from Egypt and Greece, becomes a mighty empire, swallowing up all the great kingdoms around her, whether in Europe, Asia, or Africa. She grows rich on the spoils of other nations. For a time she feels the fire of liberty, but this van- ishes amid the corruptions and looseness that pervade society ; and, finally, gorged with conquest and bloat- GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. ed with wealth, she becomes the prey of the Goths and Vandals, that come upon her, like locusts, from the north of Europe. Though Greece and Rome have long since declined, yet many of their political institutions have come down to our times : of these we have given a brief sketch. There is much in them to admire, but they show that Christianity was still wanting to lay a sure founda- tion for liberty, in the responsibility of man to clear and inflexible rules of justice. The great lights of Greece and Rome having become extinct, the Arabs, or Saracens, from the seventh to the twelfth century, cultivated literature with success in Asia and Africa ; but Europe continued, for this whole period, in a state of ignorance and barbarism. This is called the dark age, during which the institu- tions of Greece and Rome were forgotten, and those of the northern nations of Europe became partially es- tablished over this entire quarter of the globe. THE FEUDAL SYSTEM. This system, so often no- ticed in history, appears to have existed in Europe at an early date, among the tribes that inhabited Ger- many. These, like the Celts who first settled France, Spain, Britain and Ireland, came also from Asia. The period of their first emigration may have been, and doubtless was, 1500 or 2000 years before Christ ; but tribe after tribe continued to flow into Europe, down to the time of Rome's final overthrow by the Goths. It is probable that the German tribes brought their feudal system of government with them ; but it doubt- less became much modified after its establishment in GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 263 Europe. It existed among the Franks, one of those tribes; and these, making some conquests in Gaul, under their king, Pharamond, about A. D. 420, and finally settling in that country, established it there. From this period, the feudal system is seen extend- ing itself in all directions, until, in the course of a few centuries, all the great kingdoms of Europe are founded upon it as the basis of their political institu- tions. It must be remembered that these German tribes, as well as the other inhabitants of Europe, were, at the period of which we treat, chiefly addicted to war. They had flocks, and sometimes settled down, for half a century or more, in one spot, pursuing agriculture in intervals of peace. But they were, still, always looking out for some rich tribe or country which they might plunder. In this state of things the people required bold and active leaders ; those who were fond of strife, and ca- pable of ensuring victory in their bloody enterprises. Accordingly, we find them generally under the sway of kings whose character was marked with strength and courage, mingled with skill and sagacity. The sovereigns were always assisted by chiefs, who par- took of the characteristics of their leaders. When one of these tribes conquered a country, they divided the spoils among themselves. The king took by far the largest portion ; his chiefs took less, and the common soldiers a still smaller share. The lands were wholly engrossed by the king and his chiefs, who were called barons. There was one condition on which these lards were 264 GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. held, which constituted the chief feature of the feudal system. A baron held his land upon condition that, when required by his king, he should bring all his men, capable of bearing arms, into his service. The people were permitted to cultivate the lands of the barons on the condition that they, too, should do mili- tary as well as other service in behalf of their liege lords, in case of need. The common people were called serfs, and were little more than slaves, being completely subject to the power of their masters. They were, however, permit- ted to live upon the lands of the chiefs, and though often treated with cruelty, and sometimes suffering the most degrading outrages, they were generally supplied liberally with the necessaries of life. It was about the year 480, that Clovis became king of France, the government being based upon the feu- dal system. This monarchy continued to increase in strength, until it became established, and has ever since been one of the leading powers of Europe. In Germany and the north of Europe, kingdoms continued to be established on a feudal basis, from the fifth to the twelfth century, until at last all parts of this quarter of the globe were subject to feudal mo- narchies, except Ireland, Italy, Greece and Turkey. In all these latter countries, absolute despotism on the Asiatic plan prevailed, except in Ireland, where the people appear to have had something like representa- tion in the government. About the fourteenth century, arts revived and com- merce began to flourish in Europe. These introduced a new era of light, and the vassals of the feudal lords GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 266 at last discovered that while they were men, the lord was himself nothing more than a man. From that period there was a gradual, but slow advancement, toward political truth and the breaking down of feudal bondage. This progress was more rapid in England than in any other country, but even there, it crept with reluctant steps ; for it was the interest, and the en- deavor, of her kings and priests, desirous of still hold- ing their sway over the people, to prevent them from discovering their rights and their real power. The first settlers of America came here, bringing with them the political discoveries which had been made in England ; having nothing to cloud their minds, they soon enjoyed the broad sunshine of politi- cal liberty, which belongs to man as his birthright. This glorious illumination resulted, finally, in the sep- aration of the colonies from England and the inde- pendence of America. The success of our govern- ment in making a people prosperous and happy, has shaken down the French monarchy, to be rebuilt, in- deed, but with no feudal attributes. It has done much to modify the institutions of England, and to infuse principles of liberty into most other monarchies of Europe. CIVIL, GOVERNMENT. This is that system of laws, whether written or printed, or transmitted by custom, which is established to secure and promote justice and order. Without government, as before remarked, society would be in a state of anarchy. In a family, government is necessary ; it is also necessary even in a school-room. Without civil government, the rights of man would not be respected ; life and property 266 GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. would not be safe. In such a state of things, robbery, plunder, and murder would be the common occurrences of life. No attempt to obtain peace and order with- out government, has. ever succeeded. Men are not virtuous, as a mass, and therefore the power of govern- ment and the force of law are required. In a society where the people possess absolute lib- erty, the many are rendered immediately the slaves of the few ; the weak are subjected to the strong ; despotism is ever ready to take possession of a com- munity, contending for absolute liberty. It is indis- pensable for the security of order, justice, peace and happiness, that society should form a government, and submit to the restraints it imposes. No other mode has yet been found, by which the whole community can enjoy even a moderate degree of liberty and hap- piness. A man who expects to enjoy liberty without paying for it, without surrendering a portion to secure the rest, judges and acts as foolishly, as one who wishes to rear a crop of corn, but yet is too niggardly to furnish the seed to plant. Civil liberty is freedom to think and act as we see fit, except so far as the good of society may require abridg- ment and restraint. A man has a natural right to all he gains by his honest labor, but in civilized society he consents to be taxed, and thus part with a portion of his earnings, to sustain the government, on the ground that it is best for the whole, and for himself among the number, to have a government. A man has a natural right to walk or ride where he pleases ; GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 267 but in civilized society, he consents to have his abso- lute liberty so far abridged, as not to have a right to ride or walk in his neighbor's garden or parlor, or on the sidewalks of a city. A member of society, in giving up a part of his lib- erty to secure the rest, acts on the principle of insur- ance, in which a man gives five or ten dollars to have his house or property insured against fire for one year. Government is a kind of mutual insurance against robbery, plunder, murder, and injustice. Gov- ernment has been compared to a partnership, in which all have shares, each one participating in the profit and loss of the concern. The great problem of government is to find out the utmost enjoyment of liberty, compatible with the good of society. Every law should be considered in two points of view : first, how far it abridges natural lib- erty, and how far, therefore, it is an evil ; and secondly, the good it will do by prevention of evil, or by the di- rect procurement of benefit to society. Every act of legislation should be tested in this way ; and no act should be passed, which, after such an examination, does not promise a balance of good. Government is sometimes spoken of as a social com- pact an agreement between all the members of com- munity. This is rather a definition of what govern- ment should be, than what it is. In the United States, where the people make the government, it may be called a social compact or agreement between the members of the community ; but in Russia, where the people at large have nothing to do with making the government, it can -hardly bear this designation. GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. The government is there forced upon the people, and established without their cooperation. It may be indeed said that submission implies as- sent, and that this submission makes the people par- ties to the social compact or agreement ; but we know that in many cases, this assent is extorted by military power, or other circumstances which control the free- dom of the citizens. There can be, strictly speaking, no compact which is not freely entered into by all par- ties ; any government, therefore, which is founded in force, which has not the free sanction of the people at large, is not a social compact. The origin and bind- ing force of government have been discussed in another part of this volume. Government, it will be understood, embraces three distinct things : 1st. The system or form of govern- ment, usually founded upon some constitution, either written or sanctioned by the people, or established by usage; 2d. The statutes and laws; 3d. The adminis- tration, consisting of the officers, appointed to see that the laws are obeyed, and the action of the government sustained. The system or form of government of the United States, is prescribed in a written constitution, sanc- tioned by the people. The statutes are the laws en- acted by congress, agreeably to this constitution. The administration consists of the president of the United States, his secretaries, &c. The system or form of government of Massachu- setts, or New York, or Ohio, or any other of the sep- arate United States, is also prescribed by a written constitution, sanctioned by the people of the state. GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 269 The statutes consist of the laws passed by the state legislatures ; and the administration consists of the governor and his immediate officers. No law is bind- ing that violates a constitution, for the makers of the laws have authority to act only by that instrument In Great Britain, the form of government is pre- scribed and sanctioned by usage, and not by any par- ticular written document. The laws are the statutes enacted by parliament and signed by the king ; the administration consists of the king and his ministers. In France, there is a written constitution ; the laws are enacted by a parliament, and the king with his ministers are the administration. Many of the sys- tems of Europe are similar to that of France, while others are despotic. There is another division, belonging to the govern- ments of most civilized countries, which distributes the powers of the rulers into three branches : 1st, the legislative, or law-making power : 2d, the judicial, or judging power ; and 3d, the executive power. THE LEGISLATIVE POWER. This is usually vested in a certain number of persons chosen by the people, or a portion of the people, for that purpose. These are commonly divided into two branches, called the upper and lower house. These two bodies of men usually assemble in two different rooms in the same building, and discuss various acts, resolutions, and laws. When a law is introduced into either house, it is called a bill. It is read by the speaker or president of the house, and after being sufficiently discussed, the speaker or pre- sident puts it to vote ; that is, he calls upon the mem- 270 GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. bers in favor of it to say ay, and those opposed, to say no. If there are more ayes than noes, the bill passes ; if not, it is lost. The bill being passed, is sent to the other house. It is there discussed, and voted upon. If it passes, it goes to the governor or president, or king, and if he signs it, it becomes a law. This is the usual mode of making laws, or of legis- lation, in civilized countries. In savage or barbarous countries, where there are no written laws, of course there is no legislature ; all power, legislative, judicial or executive, being absorbed by the king, or chief, and his immediate officers and dependents. Where such a state of things exists, the people have nothing to do in forming the government. All they are required to do is to submit. THE JUDICIAL POWER. This is exercised by courts. A court of justice usually consists of one or more judges, with a sheriff and a jury. This being a most important branch of government, we should be careful to understand its nature, duties, and functions. If a man is charged with any breach of law, he is brought by the sheriff or constable before the court the charge having been made known to him. He may either defend himself, or he may employ a lawyer to defend him. The case is stated to the court, and then witnesses are brought forward to prove the facts. No witness can testify, unless he takes an oath, or makes a solemn declaration that he will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The witnesses against the man are examined, and GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 271 then the witnesses in his favor. Then the jury, which consists of twelve men chosen from the people, take into consideration whether the man has actually broken the law, as charged. Their decision is called a ver- dict, and is either guilty or not guilty. If it is not guilty, the man is acquitted and released. If it is guilty, then the judge proceeds to pronounce the penalty of the law, and this is called the sentence. If the sentence is death, the man is executed by the sheriff; if the sentence is imprisonment, he is shut up in the jail ; if the sentence is a fine, he is required to pay the money. THE EXECUTIVE POWER. This is placed in the head of the government, whose duty it is to see to the execution of the laws. In Massachusetts, New York, Ohio, and each of the United States, the executive power is chiefly vested in a governor. The executive power of the United States is vested in a president, who appoints various secretaries to assist him, and these are called the cabinet. In England, the executive power is in the king, who appoints various agents called ministers, and these exercise the executive power in the name of the king. In this country, a president's duty is to administer the government, that is, to carry it on : to appoint various officers necessary for this purpose ; to see that the acts of Congress are observed and fulfilled ; to see that the navy is taken care of; to see that the army is provided for and properly employed ; to see that the public property is secure ; to see to the gene- ral interests of the country, so far as the laws place GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. them under his care. Thus the president carries on, or administers, the government ; and therefore we call him, with his advisers and assistants the cabinet the administration. We also sometimes call the acts of a president, his administration. Accordingly, we speak of Washington's administration, Jefferson's ad- ministration, &c. The duty of a governor of a state, is to see that the state laws are executed, and that the acts of the state legislature are fulfilled. He appoints various officers to assist in administering or carrying on the govern- ment, and he has a general charge over the public interests of the people. He is the commander-in-chief of the state militia, and may call upon them to aid in executing the laws, in suppressing insurrection, or repelling invasion. Let it be remembered, then, that the legislature makes the laws ; the judiciary, consisting of the courts, interprets and applies them ; and the executive exe- cutes or fulfils them. These are the three great powers of government ; and wherever government exists, these must exist. These powers ought always to be placed in different hands, and to be independent of each other ; for if the same person may make the laws, interpret and apply them, and at last execute them ; then it will be seen that the powers of government are so vested, that they may be used according to the interest, passions, or caprices of the ruler. Such is a government of man, and not a government of laws. To illustrate this, suppose the president of the United States may pass a law ; suppose he may also GOVBBNMEHT A1TO LAWS. interpret that law, and at last suppose he may put it in force it is obvious that if he can do all this, he is a despot, for his power is unlimited ; and there is no difference, in spirit, between our government, in this case, and that of Russia, Spain, or Turkey. If one man, either directly or indirectly, engrosses the three powers of government, he is a despot ; and exactly in proportion as the chief ruler acquires and exercises either legislative or judicial powers, he is despotic. In despotic countries, the three powers of govern- ment are usually placed in the hands of the emperor, king, or chief. The sultan of Turkey, for instance, makes the laws, has them interpreted as he chooses, and has them executed as he chooses. Such is a government of man, and not a government of laws. The lives and property of the people in Turkey, are therefore subject to the whim or caprice of the sultan. In some barbarous countries, as Tripoli, Morocco, Tunis, &c., there are no published laws, or if there are, they can be set aside by the chief, and new ones be made at his pleasure. All the powers of govern- ment are vested in the chief, and he governs the peo- ple as he pleases. Such a government is always found to be cruel, unjust and oppressive. FORMS OF GOVERNMENT. As we find no countries without government, so we find no two governments precisely the same. In Tartary and other parts of Asia, and in Africa, there are wandering tribes who have numerous horses, camels, and horned cattle, with which they move from place to place, in search of pasturage ; their chief subsistence being derived from their flocks. 274 GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. Among these people, some aged man, of great ex- perience and worth, is usually the chief. He is called the patriarch, which means the father of his people ; and this idea furnishes the basis of his government ; for he is expected to rule over the tribe, as a father would govern his family. This patriarchal form of government is of great antiquity, for Abraham was the chief of a pastoral tribe, and was its patriarch. Another form of government exists in warlike tribes, where one warrior, more daring, strong, or sagacious than the rest, acquires an ascendancy, and at last be- comes the chief. If he be ambitious he usually goes on to engross all power in his own person, and be- comes a dictator. This is the government of a mili- tary chieftain. When society becomes more advanced, and men live in cities, the military chieftain usually builds him- self a palace, and becomes a king. He wishes to strengthen and establish the throne ; so he claims to reign by the appointment of God ; and, in order to make a strong impression upon the people, he lives in great state, affects to be the favorite of heaven, and maintains that his person should be held sacred. He causes loyalty, which is love of the person and govern- ment of the king, to be taught as a noble sentiment, and a duty, not inferior to that of the love of God. Such a king, in order to strengthen his government, and perpetuate his dynasty, usually takes care to pro- vide that his oldest son, or his heir, shall be his suc- cessor ; and thus makes the crown hereditary that is, descending from father to son, &c. Another cunning artifice of kings, is to get the GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 275 priests and ministers of religion, as far as he can, to teach, advise, and command the people to obey the king, and hold his person, government, and laws, sacred and inviolable. To attach the people to his interests, he usually establishes a state religion, and requires the people to conform to it. This is sup- ported by the government, and provision is made, by the state, for the priests, so as to ensure their fidelity to the king. This connection of the government with religion, for the sake of establishing despotic power over the people, is called the union of church and state. It is carefully provided against in our political systems. When a king is active and ambitious, he usually carries on wars with other countries, thereby seeking to extend his power, to increase his wealth, and glorify his name. If he is successful, he comes at length to unite several countries under one monarch, which, thus united, are called an empire. The king, under such circumstances, reigning over an empire, is usually called an emperor. Thus the monarchs of Russia and of China are called emperors, for their dominions include various countries. These are some of the simplest forms of govern- ment, and in former times, unlimited power was placed in the hands of the patriarch, military chief, king, or emperor. They were therefore, and some still are, mere despotisms. A democracy is a government of the people. In a strict sense, it is a government in which the people all assemble to make laws, to judge criminals, to settle 276 GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. disputes, and to perform all the offices and functions of government. There never has been, in point of fact, a pure democracy; for, even in ancient Attica, where there was the nearest approach to it, among a population of 400,000 souls, there were but about 20,000 citizens who had a right to take part in government ; and but few of these actually concerned themselves with it. In our country, though in form the government is not a democracy, the people at large have more influence ; for here, one sixth of the whole population are voters. A republic is a government in which the people have established a constitution, and in which they choose some of their fellow-citizens to make and administer laws. Each of the United States is there- fore a republic. The government of the United States is formed upon an union or confederation of the several states, and is therefore called a federal republic. Texas, Mexico, Guatimala, and several South American countries, have adopted republican governments. The distinction between a democracy and a repub- lic is, that in the former, the people act themselves, directly, in the business of government ; in a republic, the people choose men to represent them and act for them. In a democracy, there is no binding and con- trolling constitution, for the people are supreme ; in a republic, the people prescribe a constitution, and elect men to act under it. A republic is therefore some- times called a constitutional, and also a representative government. An aristocracy is a government in which the nobles, GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 277 and those claiming certain privileges from their wealth or rank, exercise authority, create and carry on the government. An oligarchy is a government in which a few persons, distinguished for their rank, have the supreme control. A monarchy is the government of an hereditary king or emperor. Most of the govern- ments of Europe are mixed, and partake of several of these forms. There are several terms used in characterizing gov- ernment, which it is important to understand. A despotic government is one in which power has no check ; a tyrannical government is one in which gov- ernment is exercised arbitrarily, and against law and justice ; a. free government is one in which the liberty of the citizen is protected, and the rights of man secured. An aristocratic government is one in which a few distinguished persons have a leading or controlling influence ; in this sense, the government of Great Britain is an aristocratic government, though the form is monarchical. A democratic government is one in which the people have a controlling influence. In this sense, ours is a democratic government, though the form is republican. The greatest distinctions in government arise from the different parties in whose hands power is placed. In a democracy, it is directly in the hands of the peo- ple ; in a republic, it is indirectly in their hands, though they depute it to others. Those governments in which the influence of the people preponderates, are called popular ; those in which the people have little or no influence are despotic. 278 GOVEHNMENT AND LAWS. REVIEW OF THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. As this is the very foundation of our na- tional government, we Americans cannot study it too much, or understand it too well. All citizens, espe- cially, who have a right to vote, and- who therefore use an influence for good or ill in giving character to the actual, practical government, or administration, that springs out of the Constitution, should know what it means ; what it requires, and what it prohibits. In the first place, we remark that this Constitution establishes a confederation or federation of states ; hence it is called a federal government : that is, a league or union of several parties. It is a partnership, in which the several states, with the people thereof, are the parties, each having an interest, and taking a share, in the good or ill that may flow from the union. It establishes a distribution of powers, as we have before stated, into three branches : Legislative, con- ferred on Congress ; Executive, confided to the Pres- ident ; and Judicial, entrusted to the federal courts. It keeps these powers distinct, the design being to make one branch a check on the other, so as to pre- vent a dangerous degree of power from sliding into the hands of one man, or one set of men. It makes Congress the source whence the laws pro- ceed ; it makes it the duty of the president to see that the laws are executed ; it makes it the province of the judges to interpret and apply the laws ; that is, to de- cide cases of dispute which arise under them. The Constitution takes away from the individual states, and gives to the federal government, all power to make treaties ; to carry on war against foreign na- GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 279 tions ; to have a standing army and a navy ; to estab- lish post-offices and post-roads ; to establish navigation laws, custom-houses, light-houses, and generally to regulate and control the great interests of commerce ; to coin money ; in short, to preside over those inter- ests which affect the whole country, as a nation. While the Constitution thus takes from the states and gives to the federal government, certain powers, it leaves the states in possession of all that is not thus expressly given away ; it leaves the states, still, as in- dependent republics, to carry on their several govern- ments, and to manage all their affairs, as the people thereof may please, subject to no restraint, except what the Constitution imposes. The Constitution, applying to the whole country, binds us together as a nation, of which a state is only a member. It is the Constitution, therefore, which is likely to form and fashion our national character : it is the national government, founded on this, which is chiefly regarded by foreign countries ; for it is the federal government, only, which makes treaties and holds official intercourse with other nations. The Constitution is the great bulwark of our liber- ties. Were it not for this, what would prevent two states from being involved in constant war? What would prevent a small state, like Rhode Island or Connecticut, from being oppressed by a powerful state, like New York? What would protect a citizen of one state, passing into another, from unjust taxation, imprisonment, or oppression, were it not for the Con- stitution ? From these considerations, it is clear that every GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. person in the United States has a deep interest in the Constitution, which establishes a union of the states, for the good of all. Every citizen, therefore, is bound by a regard to his own interest, and duty to his country- men, to seek to perpetuate it ; to obey its laws, to maintain its institutions, and to carry it into effect, according to the wise and patriotic intention of its framers. CONGRESS. This body, as before stated, is divided into two houses, the Senate and House of Represent- atives. They hold their sessions, separately, in two splendid rooms in the Capitol at Washington. Senators are chosen for six years ; there are two from each state ; of course there are fifty-two members. A person cannot hold a seat in the Senate, who is under thirty years of age. Beside its legislative pow- ers, the Senate have the privilege of ratifying or reject- ing treaties made by the President, or persons nomi- nated by him to office. The members of the House of Eepresentatives must be twenty-five years old : they are chosen, by the peo- ple of the states they represent, for two years. Ac- cording to the present apportionment, which is seventy thousand six hundred and eighty inhabitants to one representative, the number of representatives is two hundred and' twenty-seven. The House of Representatives have the sole power of impeachment ; but the person impeached must be tried by the Senate. The pay of the members of both branches of Congress is eight dollars a day, while at Washington ; and twenty dollars, as fees of travel, for every hundred miles. GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 281 THE ADMINISTRATION. The Constitution is but a series of rules or principles. To carry these into effect, officers must be appointed. Upon the char- acter of these persons, the nature of the government greatly depends : for as these are good or bad, the public affairs will be wisely or unwisely managed. A foolish man can hardly act otherwise than foolishly, however excellent may be the laws which he is called upon to administer. However good our Constitution may be, therefore, we cannot expect good practical government, unless we put good men into office. Even a good tool will not cut well of itself: in bad or incompetent hands, it will often do mischief. Our fathers, then, in giving us an. admirable Constitution, left us only a good tool to work with, and we must take the responsibility of seeing that it passes into the hands only of those who are skilful and honest ; those who know what is right, and those who love what is right. The President of the United States is the chief officer of the government ; we look upon him, accordingly, as especially called to administer the laws. We, therefore, call the President, with his advisers, the Administration. Thus, as before remarked, we de- nominate Washington's period of government, Wash- ington's administration, &c. THE PRESIDENT, &c. The President holds his of- fice for four years, and has a salary of $25,000 a year. He is commander-in-chief of the army, the navy, and the militia of the United States, when in actual ser- vice ; he signs or vetoes bills passed by Congress ; and receives ambassadors and other public ministers. He 282 GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. also, by and with the consent of the Senate, appoints the chief naval, military and civil officers of the gov- ernment, and signs their commissions. In addition to all this, the President is charged with the general welfare of the country, and the execution of the laws ; and he is required, from time to time, to lay before Congress his views of public affairs. The Vice President is president of the Senate, with a salary of $6,000 a year. In case of the death of the President, he succeeds to his office. The President is assisted by several persons, who are his advisers. These consist of the Secretary of State, Secretaries of the Treasury, of the Navy, and of War ; the Attorney-General and the Postmaster- General. All these persons live in Washington, near the Pres- ident, and are frequently called upon by him to fur- nish him information, and to offer him their counsel and assistance. They are generally selected from among the ablest men in the nation, and each one is supposed to be especially fitted, by his character and former pursuits, for the particular place assigned to him. The President not only calls upon these persons separately for assistance, as occasion may require, but once or twice a week they all meet together at his house. When assembled, they form the Cabinet, and when met for consultation, they are called the Cabinet Council. The cabinet being regarded as personal and confi- dential advisers of the President, are expected to enter- tain the same political opinions as the President him- GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. 283 self, and are usually selected from the President's po- litical party. In this case, as in the other, the Pres- ident nominates the members of the cabinet, and the Senate of the United States, in secret session, confirm or reject them, as they please. If rejected, the Pres- ident makes other nominations. A large and responsible part of the duty of the President consists in his nomination of persons to of- fice, including the secretaries, judges, ambassadors, charges, consuls, custom-house officers, naval and military officers, postmasters, land agents, and various other persons in the employ of the government. The number of officers he is called upon to nominate, amounts, as before stated, to many thousands. In all important appointments, it is necessary that the Senate should confirm the nomination, or the person does not hold his place. The secret sessions of the Senate, in which they discuss the nominations of the President, are called Executive Sessions, because they then attend to execu- tive business. The characters of persons nominated are freely discussed. Sometimes what takes place during the discussions, transpires, and sometimes it remains under the seal of secrecy. The secretaries are in England called ministers. In that country, they have usually a seat in parliament, and take a leading part in the legislation of the coun- try ; but in the United States, the executive depart- ment is more completely separated from the legislative, and the secretaries, or ministers, or members of the cab- inet, have no seat in either branch of Congress. The annual salaries of the secretaries are $6,000 each. POLITICAL ECONOMY * DEFINITIONS. Political Economy is the science which teaches the manner in which nations and indi- viduals acquire wealth. Wealth is anything which is capable of gratifying our desires, and of procuring for us, by exchange, some other object of gratification. Some objects are capable of gratifying our desires; but are incapable of procuring for us any other objects in exchange. Such are air, the light of the sun, and, commonly, water. Others are capable, not only of gratifying our desires, but of procuring for us other objects in exchange. Such are fuel, cloth, salt, wheat, iron, money, &c. It is only articles of this latter class that are denominated wealth. Of Value. That quality in any object which ren- ders it capable of gratifying our desires, is called its value. Thus, the value of air consists in its power to support life ; the value of water consists in its capa- city to slake our thirst, and its utility in the various arts. The value of fuel consists in its capacity to im- part to us warmth, &c. When this value is con- sidered simply as a capacity to gratify human desire, * We have abridged this article from " Chambers' Informa- tion for the People," for which the author was largely indebted to Dr. Way land's excellent work entitled "Elements of Politi- cal Economy." POLITICAL ECONOMY. it is called intrinsic value. When it is considered as a capacity to procure for us something else in ex- change, it is called exchangeable ralue. Things which are every where abundant, and which require no aid from human labor to render them capable of gratifying our desires, have only intrinsic value. This is the case with air, the light of the sun, &c. On the other hand, things which derive their power to gratify our desires from human labor, and which are found only in particular places, have always ex- changeable value. The reason why these latter have exchangeable value is evident. If I, by my labor, give value to something which had no value before, I have a right to the thing in which this value resides. And, inas- much as I have bestowed my labor upon it, I will not part with it for nothing. Hence, if any one wants it, he must offer me in exchange something on which he has bestowed a similar amount of labor, or else something which I could not otherwise procure, without bestow- ing upon it an equal or a greater amount of labor. Thus, if I have spent an hour in catching a fish, I will not give it to my neighbor for nothing, or for air, or sunlight, which I can have for nothing. I will only give it for something which I could not procure with less than an hour's labor. And if he offer me some- thing which I could procure with half an hour's labor, I shall not exchange, but shall prefer to procure for myself the article which he offers me. And hence we see that when men exchange the products which they have procured with each other, they exchange labor for labor. Thus, when men ex- 286 POLITICAL ECONOMY. change silver for gold, they give a much larger amount of silver than of gold, because it requires much more labor to procure gold than it does to procure silver. They give a much larger amount of iron in exchange than of silver, because the labor of procuring silver is ' much greater than the labor of procuring iron. And hence we see that when men exchange with each other, the exchangeable value of anything will be, in general, as the labor which it costs to procure it. Hence the cost of anything, or its natural price, is the labor which is necessary to produce it. This, however, is liable to accidental and temporary fluctuation. Sometimes a much larger quantity of a given product is created than is wanted. In this case, the owner, in order to induce persons to buy, will offer it at a less price than the cost, because he had rather sell it at a loss than lose it altogether. When, in this case, the supply is too abundant, the exchangeable value will fall. On the other hand, when not enough of any given product has been created to supply the wants of the community, the buyers, rather than be deprived of it, will overbid each other, and thus will pay more than the natural price : that is, when the demand is unusually great, the exchangeable value will rise. These causes of fluctuation can, however, exist but for short periods, and the constant tendency of the exchangeable value of anything will be towards the cosi of the labor necessary to create it. Of Production. Production is the act by which we give to any object its particular value, or its particular capacity to gratify human desire. Man can neither create nor annihilate anything ; he can only change POLITICAL ECONOMY. 2S7 the form of that which is created. We cannot create iron, but we can extract it from the ore ; we can then change it into steel ; we can change a lump of steel into knifeblades. Each of these acts, by which a par- ticular value is given to the iron, is called an act of production. The substance to which any value has thus been given, is called a product. Capital. The term capital is applied to the mate- rial before it has been changed by labor into a pro- duct ; to the instruments with which this change is effected ; to the means of subsistence by which the laborer is supported ; and also to the product which results from the application of labor to the raw ma- terial. Of Exchange. Every man finds it for his interest to labor exclusively at one kind of production. Thus, we see that every man has his own trade or profes- sion. But a man wants a great many other things besides those which he produces himself. The shoe- maker produces shoes ; but he cannot eat, or drink, or clothe himself with shoes'. Hence he must exchange his shoes for those articles which he needs. Every other man is in the condition of the shoemaker. And hence we see that an immense amount of exchanges must be made every day in every civilized community. Distribution. Not only does every man work at a particular trade it is commonly the case that a great many men must labor together in order to create a particular product. Every penknife, nay, every pin, goes through the hands of several workmen, and re- ceives a portion of its value from every one of them. POLITICAL ECONOMY. When the product has been created, every one is en- titled to his share of it. The principles by which this division of the profits is made, is called by political economists distribution. Consumption. Every product, after it has been created, is put to some purpose. Sometimes it is used for the creation of some other product ; as wheat, when it has been raised, is used for the purpose of making flour ; or, again, it may be used for the simple purpose of satisfying human desire, as bread, when it is eaten, is used to appease our hunger. The de- struction of values in this manner is called consumption. The whole subject of Political Economy may there- fore be comprehended under these four divisions Production, Exchange, Distribution, Consumption. OF PRODUCTION. This is the act by which we confer upon any object a value which it did not pos- sess before ; or it is the application of labor to capital for the creation of a product. OF CAPITAL. Capital is the material which is to be united with industry for the creation of a product, or the instruments which are used in the act of pro- duction, or the necessaries and conveniences by which the health of the laborer is sustained. Sometimes the laborer finds the material in its native state, as the miner finds the ore or the coal in its native bed ; most commonly, however, he receives it from some one who has already conferred upon it some value, and it is his occupation to confer upon it another. The forms of capital are as various as the different occupations of men. The material of the farmer is seed, manure, animals, &c.; that of the manufacturer, POLITICAL ECONOMY. 289 cotton, wool, iron, leather, &c. ; and that of the mer- chant, the various substances in which he traffics. The instruments with which these producers labor are very various. The fanner uses ploughs, harrows, and carts ; the manufacturer, saws, hammers, and spinning and weaving machines ; and the merchant, ships, boats, locomotives, Sec. Besides these, all men require for their sustenance food, clothing, shelter, and the various conveniences of life. Viewed in this light, all capital may be in- cluded under one or the other of these classes. Changes of Capital. Inasmuch as the labor of men is so universally employed in changing capital having one form of value to capital having another form of value, capital must be incessantly undergoing changes. It is no matter how many changes it under- goes, if its value be by every change sufficiently in- creased to pay for the labor which it cost to effect it. Increase of Capital. If a given material undergo a change by which its value is increased, then there is an increase of capital equal to the difference between its former and its present value. "We say equal to the difference, because, in the creation of one value, another value is always destroyed, and we are benefited, therefore, only by the superior amount of value which we possess over that which we have consumed to pro- duce it. Thus, the fanner consumes seed, manure, labor, sustenance, in the production of a crop. He has changed one kind of capital for another, and he is enriched by as much as his crop is of greater value than all that it cost him to produce it. Capital which is undergoing change by which its POLITICAL ECONOMY. value is increased, or which is yielding an annual in- come, is called productive capital. That which is lying idle, and neither producing anything nor increas- rg in value, is called unproductive capital. Money forms a small but very important part of the capital of all civilized nations. The use of money is to enable us the more easily to make exchanges with each other. That it forms but a small part of the capital of a country, is evident from the fact, that a very small part of the wealth of any individual con- sists of money. What is true of all the separate indi- viduals of a community, must be true of the whole community collectively. Of Fixed and Circulating Capital. That capital from which the owner derives profit by changing its form or place, is called circulating capital ; while the various instruments which he uses to produce this change, and from the use of which he derives profit, are fixed capital. Thus, the wheat and the manures of the farmer, the w r ool and raw cotton of the manu- facturer, are their circulating capital ; the ploughs, harrows, barn, and land of the one, the machinery and buildings of the other, are their fixed capital. There is a constant tendency in a prosperous condi- tion of society, to change circulating into fixed capital. The farmer sells his wheat, and with the produce buys more land and better tools, or erects better fences and barns. The manufacturer, with his profits of this year, enlarges his manufactory ; and thus, in the pro- gress of society, vast sums are annually invested in roads, canals, manufactories, and various means of practical improvement. POLITICAL ECONOMY. 291 The beneficial result of this tendency is easily seen. Fixed capital is but slowly consumed, and hence the wealth of each generation is transmitted to the next ; and, year after year, a country becomes better and better provided with the means for furnishing itself with all the conveniences of life. The superior con- veniences which we enjoy in this country, over those enjoyed by the aborigines who long ago occupied it, are owing entirely to the amount of fixed capital which covers the soil. It is thus that the results of the industry of men are transmitted to their posterity, and that the men of any one age are enabled to reap advantage from the skill and good conduct of the men of all ages who have gone before them. OF INDUSTRY. Industry is human exertion of any kind employed for the creation of value. If we consider the different kinds of value which it is in the power of man to create, we shall see that human industry may be employed in three different ways. Matter may be changed in its elementary form, as it is by the farmer when he plants seed and reaps an increase ; or in its aggregate form, as when a car- penter fashions a piece of furniture out of a log ; or in its place, as when a sailor carries it from one country to another. The ultimate design of all human indus- try employed in production is to effect either one or the other of these results. They are frequently deno- minated agricultural, manufacturing, and commercial industry. It is evident that every one of these kinds of labor is absolutely necessary, in order to promote the con- venience and happiness of man ; and also that neither 292 POLITICAL ECONOMY. one could prosper without the aid of the others. Were there no agricultural labor, every body would starve. Were there no manufacturing labor, every body would be chilled to death. Were there no labor employed in transporting commodities from place to place, no one could enjoy any convenience except what he had produced himself; that is, though, with great industry and suffering, a few persons might live, yet they would be but few, and these few would be miserably poor. Hence, we see how unwise it is for any jeal- ousy to exist between the fanner, the mechanic, and the merchant. All are equally necessary to each one, and each one is necessary to both the others. But some men are neither mechanics, nor farmers, nor merchants ; they are students, or philosophers, or lawyers, or physicians, or clergymen. All of these men, however, are necessary to society, in ways that must be generally obvious, and are as well entitled to their rewards as any other useful class. Of Division of Labor. A little reflection will sat- isfy us that the productiveness of human labor may be greatly increased, first, by discovering the vari- ous qualities of things, or, specially, those qualities by which we are capable of creating force ; and, secondly, by those various contrivances by which the force thus created may be directed and applied. We must particularly notice one other source of increased productiveness, viz. division of labor for its results are, in many cases, exceedingly striking. Division of labor, in general, means employing one individual upon one kind of labor, instead of employ- POLITICAL ECONOMY. 293 ing the same individual upon several kinds of labor. If we reflect, we shall see that this circumstance forms one of the great differences between savage and civi- lized nations, A savage does for himself whatever he requires to have done. He is his own philosopher, inventor, and operative ; his own farmer, butcher, baker, shoemaker, tailor, carpenter, &c. And the result is, that he is ignorant, hungry, shelterless, al- most naked; and that he continues, age after age, without making any improvement. On the contrary, civilized men divide these various occupations, so that one man labors wholly in one, and another man labors wholly in another employment ; and the result is, that civilized men, without laboring more than savages, easily obtain convenient shelter, clothing, food, and all the necessaries of life. But still more. Every one who observes any me- chanical process, observes that it consists of several parts. For instance, in order to make a knife, the blade must be formed and then polished, the handle must be formed in several pieces, the rivets must be made to connect these several pieces together ; and after these several pieces have been formed and pre- pared for each other, they must be united together into a knife. Now, what is commonly called division of labor in political economy, consists in so apportioning this work, that one person shall labor at only one part of any process. The division of labor in this manner is found to have a much greater effect upon the productiveness of human industry than could possibly have been sup- posed. Every man who labors at a trade adopts this POLITICAL ECONOMY. plan in part. If a cabinet-maker have a dozen tables to make, he will make all the legs of all the tables at once, then all the covers, &c., and when all have been prepared, he will put them all together. And if seve- ral men were to unite and make nothing but tables, and each one perform but one part of the labor, they could make a great many more tables in a given time, than if each one made a whole table. The reasons for this increased productiveness are several : 1. It saves the loss of time and skill, which must result from frequently passing from one occupation to another. After a man has labored for some time at one thing, he is said to have " got his hand in," and he performs the operation with ease and skill. If he turns to a different occupation, " his hand is out," and he cannot perform it so well. Hence, all the time consumed in acquiring the habit is lost. 2. When a variety of operations is to be performed by the same individual, he must frequently adjust his tools, or pass from the use of one kind of tools to the use of another. This occasions a great waste of time. By performing the same operation continuously, the same tools with the same adjustment will answer the same purpose perpetually. This is specially the case where the adjustment of tools requires not only time but expense, as, for instance, in the use of the black- smith's furnace. If the smith heat it, and leave it for the purpose of doing some other work, all the fuel con- sumed after he leaves it, as well as that necessary to bring it again to its proper temperature, is lost. 3. When men confine themselves to a single opera- POLITICAL ECONOMY. 295 tion, they acquire a degree of dexterity which could be acquired in no other manner. A man who only occa- sionally makes nails, will make but eight hundred or a thousand in a day ; while a boy who has never done anything else, will make upwards of two thousand three hundred in a day. 4. Division of labor suggests the invention of tools and machines, by which labor may be rendered still more productive. As soon as an operation is analyzed into its simple processes, it is comparatively easy to contrive some way in which to perform either one or all of these processes by a machine. It would have required great skill to construct a machine for making nails before the process was analyzed ; but let it be divided into rolling, cutting, and heading, and it is comparatively easy to construct instruments by which each of these processes may be accomplished. 5. There is great diversity in the talent required for performing the various parts of a process. Some parts of the operation require great dexterity, and a long course of education ; others can be performed by women, and even by children, with very little training. Some require labor worth seven or eight shillings, and others can be executed by labor worth no more than a few cents per day. Now, without division of labor, all the processes must be performed by labor at the highest price. By division of labor, the manufacturer can employ just the amount and just the kind of labor that he needs. This greatly reduces the cost of pro- duction. The effect of all this is seen in the very low price at which almost all the articles of general use may be POLITICAL ECONOMY. obtained. For instance, suppose a lady in New York wanted a dozen needles, and applied to a jeweller or other workman to have them made for her, she could not obtain them at much less than half a dollar a-piece. But needles are imported into that city from a British manufacturing town, and sold at about three for a cent, notwithstanding all the cost of transportation ; and this entirely through the advantage derived from the divis- ion of labor. EXCHANGE. We have thus far considered produc- tion, and the means by which, with a given amount of labor, production may be increased. But were this all, the happiness of man would be but in a small de- gree advanced. Were a man to make everything for himself, or, what is the same thing, have nothing but what he could make himself, though his labor were ever so productive, he would enjoy but very few com- forts. Though a farmer, instead of raising a hundred bushels of wheat, could raise three hundred bushels, yet if he did not need for his own consumption more than a hundred, and could not procure anything else with his additional two hundred, he would be no better off than before, but might as well suffer this additional product to rot upon the ground. His additional labor would bring him no additional advantage, and hence there would be no encouragement to labor. But as soon as he is able to exchange this two hundred bushels more than he can use himself for some other things which he wants, his additional labor brings with it a corresponding reward ; and additional productive- ness of labor brings with it additional comforts and conveniences. Of so great advantage to mankind is POLITICAL ECONOMY. 297 exchange. And hence it will be seen that the pros- perity of a country, its wealth, and its industry, are very much in proportion to its facilities for exchange. Thus we see that no country can easily grow rich without gxx)d harbors on its coast, good roads or canals in its interior ; and that its advantages are greatly in- creased when it is so fortunate as to be penetrated in many directions by navigable rivers. We shall now proceed to consider the nature and principal laws of exchange. Of Circumstances in the Human Constitution which render Exchange universally necessary. 1. It is a well-known fact that labor is necessary, in order to ren- der anything valuable. Everything valuable around us will, if we reflect, be seen to be the result of the labor of some one. And we have also seen, that he who has labored has, by means of his labor, acquired a right to the value which he has created. By this we mean that he has a right to do with it just what he pleases. 2. It is also the fact, that every man seems disposed to pursue some one kind of occupation in preference to another. One man chooses to be a sailor, another a farmer, another a mechanic, another a manufacturer, and another a merchant. And we also see, that these different men seem each one to be the best adapted to that kind of business which each one has chosen. And we know that, by the principles of division of labor, there will be a much larger amount of product created when every individual has a separate employment, than when every man is obliged to divide his time between a dozen employments. 3. But while every man is thus intended to labor 293 POLITICAL ECONOMY. at one particular employment, and to produce one par- ticular thing, every man needs for his comfort and con- venience a thousand things. Now, as he labors to produce only one of these thousand things, he must procure all the rest by exchange ; hence, in order to gratify his desires, he must make nine hundred and ninety-nine exchanges. By so doing, he is able, by laboring, to produce one kind of value, and then by exchange to supply himself with every kind of value that he wishes. In this manner men are rendered happier, inasmuch as every one is enabled to pursue the occupation that he likes best, and, at the same time, to procure whatever he needs for his happiness. And, moreover, as by this mode labor is much more produc- tive, every one procures a much larger quantity of what he desires by the same amount of labor. We thus see, that in order to secure our physical happiness, there is really as great a necessity for exchange as there is for production. This rule applies equally well to nations as to individuals. No nation is able to raise within itself one-half of the productions necessary to its convenience. It may have, however, peculiar advantages for producing some one or two articles of general necessity. These are commonly called its staples. Now, it is for the advantage of a nation, as well as of an individual, to devote itself to the production of that which it can produce in the greatest abundance and with the greatest ease, and then to procure by exchange with other countries those articles which it needs, but which they produce with greater ease and in greater abundance. The benefits in this case are of the same nature as in the other. POLITICAL ECONOMY. 299 Each nation labors in that department of production that it chooses, and at the same time, by so doing, it is enabled, in greater abundance, to avail itself of the productions of every other country. DISTRIBUTION. We have thus far considered the mode in which wealth is, in the first instance, pro- duced, and in which, in the second instance, the pro- ducers are enabled to exchange it with each other. It is, however, commonly the case that an article of production is not the result of the labor of one man alone, but of several men united. Thus, several men successively unite in producing a barrel of flour. One owns the land, another sows the seed, another reaps the harvest, another owns the mill in which it is ground, another manages the mill for the owner, another makes the barrel in which it is contained, another transports it to market, and another sells it to the consumer. Now, every one of these must be paid out of the barrel of flour when it is purchased by the consumer ; that is, the price of the flour must be so distributed among them all, that each one has his just share of the proceeds. The principles on which this is to be done are considered by political economists under the head of DISTRIBUTION. As all value is the result of capital and industry, it is manifest that we shall comprehend the whole sub- ject, if we treat of Wages, or the price of labor, and Interest, or the price of capital. Of Wages, or the Price of Labor. We have already seen that exchangeable value is the cost of anything, influenced moreover by the effect of supply and demand. We shall therefore consider, 1st, The 300 POLITICAL ECONOMY. cost of labor ; 2dly, The effect of supply and demand upon it. I. Of the cost of labor. Of simple Labor. By simple labor, we mean that labor which may be performed by any healthy person without any, or with very trifling, previous education. 1. But it is evident that no person can continue in health without food, clothing and shelter. We cannot, therefore, procure the labor of any living thing with- out furnishing those necessaries which are required for the continuance of existence. This is the first thing which enters into the cost of labor. 2. But, besides this, human beings are not qualified to labor until they have attained several years of age. During the period of infancy, they must be supported by the labor of others. Were they not so supported, the whole race of man would in a few years perish. The cost of labor must therefore be sufficient to sustain not merely the parents but also the children. And yet more, men live frequently after they have ceased to be capable of labor. The old must be supported, or they will perish. Hence the wages of labor should be enough to enable the laborer to lay up something to support him in his old age, or else the wages of his children should be sufficient to maintain him after he has become unable to maintain himself. 3. While, however, this is the fact, yet it may be observed, that the cost of labor, or the remuneration necessary to accomplish these purposes, will vary in different climates. In warm climates, where vegeta- ble food is principally used, and where very little ex- penditure is required either for fuel, clothing, or shel- POLITICAL ECONOMY. 301 ter, wages would naturally be lower than in cold cli- mates, where the expenditures must of necessity be so much greater. This is, however, equalized by the fact, that warm climates enervate the system and relax the physical energies, so that, while you pay a very small sum for a day's work, you receive a very small amount of labor in return. Such is the natural cost of simple labor r and it will be generally found that by this rule that cost is prac- tically adjusted. Whatever may be the condition of the country, the lowest class of laborers earns but sim- ply sufficient to procure the ordinary necessaries of life for the parents and the children. Of educated Labor. But for most of the occupations of life some sort of education is required. No man can be a carpenter, or a blacksmith, or a jeweller, or a physician, or a lawyer, or a clergyman, without being educated for the particular calling which he intends to pursue. Now, this education is expensive. It costs both time and money. If a man wish to practise a trade or a profession, he must spend several years in preparation or apprenticeship. During the whole of this time he receives no wages, and frequently is obliged to pay for tuition. When he has acquired the necessary skill, he is able to perform more valuable labor than before, and he is entitled to a higher com- pensation. This compensation would naturally be adjusted by a consideration of the time and capital which he has expended in his education. The longer the time and the greater the expense of his training, the higher ought to be his wages. It is evi- dent that the wages of such labor must be always 302 POLITICAL ECONOMY. greater than those of simple labor, otherwise it will not be produced. No man will spend money in educating his son for a calling which will yield him no higher wages than he could earn without any education. Such are the principles by which the cost of labor is adjusted. Wages must always be sufficient to sup- port the laborer, and to remunerate him for the expense which must be incurred in acquiring the skill neces- sary to the practice of his profession. II. Of the demand for labor. We shall consider this under two heads 1st, The demand for simple labor ; and 2dly, The demand for educated labor. 1. The Demand for simple labor, or that which is indispensable to the production of the ordinary neces- saries of life, is incessant and universal. Every man requires, either indirectly or directly, the labor which is employed in producing the ordinary articles of con- sumption for food, clothing and shelter. But in order to render this labor available, it must be united with capital. Neither labor nor capital can produce anything alone. Hence he who possesses capital is always desirous to unite it with labor, and he who is able to labor is always desirous to unite that labor with capital. And it is evident that the larger the amount of capital which a man possesses, the greater will be the amount of labor which he will wish to pro- cure. He who cultivates five hundred acres of land will require a larger number of workmen than he who cultivates but fifty acres. The iron founder who wishes to manufacture five hundred tons of iron, will require a greater number of workmen than he who wishes to POLITICAL ECONOMY. 303 manufacture but fifty tons. And hence, in general, we see that the greater the amount of capital, the greater will be the number of laborers required, that is, the greater will be the demand for labor. If the capital of a country be too great for the num- ber of laborers, there will be a competition between capitalists for labor. They will overbid each other, and thus the price of labor will rise. Those of the first class will be insufficient to supply the demand for laborers of this class, and a number of laborers must therefore be taken from the second class. And thus, in succession, every class of laborers will be raised one grade. The price of labor will thus be raised through- out the whole community, the condition of the people will be meliorated, a smaller proportion of children will die, and a larger number of laborers will be reared. If this addition do not supply the deficiency, laborers will emigrate from less favored countries, where the proportion of capital to labor is less. And, on the contrary, where the proportion of cap- ital to labor is small, there will be a larger number of persons desirous of labor than can find employment. In this case there will be a competition among laborers for work. They will underbid each other, and thus the price of labor will fall. The case mentioned in the last paragraph will then be reversed ; the condi- tion of all the laborers will be rendered worse, and many will either emigrate or starve. Many children, and weak and sickly persons, will die of the diseases consequent upon hardship and exposure. In this manner, the number of human beings will be reduced, until the supply of labor is adjusted to the amount of 304 POLITICAL ECONOMY. capital, and then the price of labor, or wages, will rise again. Of the Demand for Educated Labor. This is substantially dependent upon the same principles. A community needs the services of lawyers, physicians, clergymen, judges, and men of science. Hence there will be a demand for these services. If there be a greater number of educated laborers than is required, the price of the wages of such laborers will fall. Under contrary circumstances it will rise. When the price of educated labor falls so low as not to remuner- ate the laborer for his skill and education, the supply will be reduced by the fact that men will turn their attention to some other pursuit. The demand for these different kinds of labor varies with the condition of society. The rich and luxuri- ous have greater demand for medical aid than the poor and abstemious. The progress of society ren- ders titles to land more intricate, and exposes men to greater danger from fraud. Hence the greater need qf the services of those who have devoted themselves to the study of the laws, and who are therefore quali- fied to instruct us how we may avail ourselves of the benefit of law. III. We next proceed to consider the supply of labor, both simple and educated. The amount of labor in any country depends upon the number of healthy human beings inhabiting it. Hence the supply of labor will depend chiefly upon those conditions by which the increase or the contin- uance of human life is affected. Of these conditions, the most important are the following : POLITICAL ECONOMY. 305 1. The means of living which, may be commanded by the laborer. Where wages are low, and the means of living are with difficulty procured by the laboring classes, the increase of population will be small, nay, population may become stationary, or it may even decrease. When a family, with its utmost labor, in health, can hardly provide the means of sub- sistence, they must all suffer greatly in sickness. In such cases, parents or children very frequently die from the want of common conveniences or attentions. And as sickness is a calamity common to all men, under such circumstances large numbers of the poor must perish. For this reason, epidemic diseases, especially those of children, are much more fatal among the poor than among the rich. In countries where the wages of the poor are very low, it is not uncommon to find parents, who have had large fami- lies, almost childless. On the contrary, just in pro- portion as the laboring classes are enabled to provide themselves with all the conveniences of living, will the number of children who are reared be increased. And besides, laborers will readily emigrate from other less favored countries to that in which the con- dition of the laboring classes is happy and prosperous. In this manner, population will always flow from old to new countries, and from regions where labor is poorly repaid to those in which it receives a more generous remuneration. Both of these circumstances tend, at present, to increase the population of the United States. There the wages of labor are high, and the means of living abundant. Those who are willing to labor can always command the necessaries, 306 POLITICAL ECONOMY. and frequently the conveniences of life, both for them- selves and for their families. Hence a much smaller proportion of children die there than in older coun- tries, and of course, the population is much more rap- idly augmented. And, from the same cause, namely, the high price of labor, there is annually a prodigious amount of emigration thither from the older countries of Europe. 2. The next condition necessary to the rapid increase of population, is the moral condition of a people. Vice is always awfully expensive, and terribly desola- ting to human life. It matters not how great be the wages of the laborer; if those wages be spent in intemperance and profligacy, his family will starve. In some countries, such as the United States, almost all the sufferings of children is the consequence of the vice of one or of both of their parents. On these two circumstances, therefore the wages of the laborer and his own personal moral habits does the increase of population chiefly depend. And, as we have before stated, the supply of laborers is as the increase of population. The same principles in the main govern the supply of educated labor. If the wages of such labor are sufficient to pay for the expenditure of time and capi- tal necessary to the acquisition of the education, such labor will be produced ; that is, men will turn their time and talents in this direction. On the contrary, when the remuneration of such labor is inadequate, men will not prepare themselves to perform it, and those already educated will devote themselves to some other occupation. Tire supply will thus be reduced so as to correspond with the demand. POLITICAL ECONOMY. 307 OF THE PRICE OF MOXEY, OK INTEREST. The first question which arrests our attention in the considera- tion of this subject, is the following : Why should the use of money have any price at all ? As I return to a man the same value which I borrow of him, why should I pay him anything for having kept it during the interval ? This question we shall first attempt to answer. Every man who labors at any regular employment, possesses two qualities which render his services of value these are strength and skill. The first ena- bles him to execute simple labor, or labor of the cheap- est kind; the second, when united with it, enables him to execute educated or higher priced labor. But, in order to perform the latter, he requires tools and materials, that is, capital. Without these, he could perform only simple labor. Of what use would be the skill of the blacksmith, without a forge and iron ? or that of the carpenter, without tools and wood ; or that of the spinner, without a spinning-jenny and raw cotton ? Without these, they would be all reduced to the necessity of that labor which could be performed with their naked hands. Suppose now that I am a blacksmith, and own a forge, tools, and iron, with which I am daily employed, and thus earn the wages both of labor and skill. Were I to lend them to another man for a week, and earn,* a hod during the mean time instead of working at my trade, and thus lose the profit of my skill, he who thus borrows them of me should surely remuner- ate me for the use of them. Suppose he borrow them for a year, he should pay me for the same rea- 308 POLITICAL ECONOMY. son. And if I have the money with which he can purchase them for himself, and I lend it to him, he should pay me just as truly for the money as for the tools and capital, because if I had not lent it to him I could have established another forge, which I could have made profitable to myself. And here we may remark, in general, that when we speak of the loan of money, it is in reality not money but other capital that is wanted, and for which we pay interest. Were a tradesman to keep the money which he borrows locked up in his drawer, it would be worth nothing to him. It can be only of use when it is exchanged for something else, which, being united with labor, will yield a profit. The fact is, that every one, as soon as he procures money, exchanges it for tools, or materials, or merchandise. Every one sees that these ought to pay interest, because they are the means of accumulation. Just as much should the money pay interest which is exchanged for them, and for which the owner of the money would have exchanged them, if he had not lent it to another. Now, it very frequently happens that the ability to labor is possessed by men who have no capital upon which to employ it. And, on the other hand, capital is frequently possessed by men who have neither the skill nor the ability to labor. In such a case, it is manifestly for the interest of both parties to form a copartnership, the one party furnishing the labor and skill, and the other furnishing the capital. By this means both parties are benefited. The laborer earns the wages of labor and skill, instead of those of simple labor ; the capitalist derives an income from his pro- * POLITICAL ECONOMY. 309 perty without diminishing it, instead of being obliged to live upon the principal. f Now this takes place in two ways, both the same in principle, although the mode in which the arrangement is made is dissimilar. The first is the case of wages. Here there is vir- tually a partnership formed between the capitalist and the laborer. The one furnishes the tools and the material, and takes all the risks of the operation, and divides with the laborer the profits, which he pays in the form of wages. These are generally agreed upon at the commencement between the parties, and are the same whether the operation be profitable or unprofita- ble. This, however, is not always the case. In the whale-fishery, the crew of a vessel receive a pro rata proportion of the profits, in the place of regular wages, and of course their remuneration is greater or less according to the success of the voyage. The second case is that in which the laborer assumes the risk, receives all the profit himself, and borrows his capital from the other, agreeing to pay him at a stated rate for the use of it. This is com- monly the case in the borrowing and lending of money. If I purchase a shop and stock it with goods, and em- ploy another to keep it for me, paying him the custom- ary wages, I act in the first-mentioned manner. If I lend him the money by which he purchases the shop and stock, and he trades on his own risk, paying me interest on the amount borrowed, I act in the second manner. It is the latter case that is to be considered in this place. Here the borrower uses the capital of the 310 POLITICAL ECONOMY. < lender for his own advantage, and that advantage is ^qual to the difference between simple labor and labor united with skill. Did he not thus employ his capital, the lender would employ it himself. It is therefore just that he should pay for the advantage which he gains, and of which he, by thus gaining it, deprives the owner. OF THE PRICE OF LAND, OR RENT. We may here remark that stocks, or in general, any other invest- ments, will bring a price in the market in proportion to the annual interest which may be derived from them. A stock, let it have cost what it may, which pro- duces six dollars a year, if six per cent, be the regular rate of interest, pays the interest of a hundred dollars, and it will sell for a hundred dollars. If it yield twelve dollars, it will sell for two hundred dollars, and so in any other proportion. Now, the same remark applies to the rent of land. If an acre of land, after paying the ordinary expendi- ture for tillage and carrying the produce to market, will yield eighteen dollars profit, it will sell for three hundred dollars, supposing the rate of interest to be at six per cent. If the profit that may be derived from it be more, it will sell for more ; if less, it will sell for less. And the same principle applies to land, whether it be used for tillage or for dwelling-houses. CONSUMPTION. OF THE NATURE AND DESIGN OF CONSUMPTION. We have thus far endeavored to show in what manner the various objects for the gratifica- tion of desire are produced, in what manner they are exchanged among the producers, and in what manner the share to which each one of the producers is en- titled, is distributed to each of them. POLITICAL ECONOMY. 311 But we know that all this is done with reference to another object. Everything that is of any value is designed to be used, and after it is thoroughly used, or, in familiar language, used up, it is worthless. All these previous operations only prepare the way for consumption, and it is consumption that creates the necessity for their being incessantly repeated. Consumption is the reverse of production. Pro- duction is the act by which we confer value. Con- sumption is the act by which we destroy the value which has been thus conferred. When we speak of the destruction of value, we do not mean that the mate- rial itself is destroyed, but only that the form in which a particular value resided has been changed, and that hence that particular kind of value is annihilated. Thus, if a load of wood be burned, its power of creat- ing heat is destroyed forever. It seems to be a law of nature, that we cannot create one value without destroying another. He who chops down a tree and saws it into boards, destroys forever the value of the tree as a tree. It can never more give shade to the traveller or gratify the taste of the tourist. He who butchers an ox for beef destroys for- ever the utility of the animal as a beast of draught. If we eat an apple, we annihilate forever the quality in the apple of giving pleasure to any other being. And thus, in general, consumption is a sort of ex- change, in which we surrender one value for the sake either of creating another value, or else for the sake of gratifying some desire, which we consider of more importance than the existence of the value which we annihilate. EVERY-DAY PHILOSOPHY. PROVERBS or Aphorisms are short, pithy sentences, each containing some striking truth. These are col- lected from the Bible, and the sayings, either written or spoken, of men of genius. Shakspeare and Ba- con are the sources from which many of our current English adages are taken. Proverbs have been in use from the earliest ages, and are common among all civilized nations. They are convenient in the common intercourse of society, and often operate in the journey of life like lamps at night, set along the streets of a city. They serve to give point and force to conversation, and to settle a thou- sand questions of duty and prudence, that arise amid the business and bustle of an active career. We need, therefore, offer no apology for presenting to the reader a selection from the store-house of human wisdom, which has been accumulating for ages, and which we find contained in a body of English and Scotch proverbs. Many of them are, doubtless, bor- rowed from other nations, and it is probable that there are few significant aphorisms, current among any peo- ple, which have not their resemblance and equivalent among our own adages. A bad workman quarrels with his tools. A begun turn is half ended. EVERY-DAY PHILOSOPHY. 313 A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. A bit is often better given than eaten. A burden which one chooses is not felt. A clear conscience fears no accusation. A contented mind is a continual feast. A drowning man will catch at a straw. Adversity flattereth no man. A fault confessed is half redressed. A fool and his money are soon parted. A fool can make money ; it requires a wise man to spend it. A friend in need is a friend indeed. A good layer up is a good layer out. A good maxim is never out of season. A good name keeps its lustre in the dark. A good servant makes a good master. A good word is as soon said as an ill one. A guilty conscience needs no accuser. A little body doth often harbor a great soul. A little leak will sink a great ship. All are not friends that speak us fair. All are not hunters that blow the horn. All is not gold that glitters. All lay load on the willing horse. A man of understanding holdeth his peace. A man must ask his wife leave to thrive. A merry heart doth good like medicine ; but a bro- ken spirit drieth the bones. An honest man's word 's as good as his bond. An hour in the morning is worth two in the afternoon. An oak is not felled with one blow. An obedient wife commands her husband. 314 EVERY-DAY PHILOSOPHY. A penny saved is a penny earned. A pin a day is a groat a year. A quiet conscience sleeps in thunder. A rolling stone gathers no moss. A rotten sheep affects the whole flock. A single fact is worth a ship-load of argument. A small pack becomes a small pedlar. A small spark makes a great fire. A smart reproof is better than smooth deceit. A soft answer turneth away wrath j but grievous words stir up anger. As the old cock crows, the young cock learns. A stitch in time saves nine. As welcome as flowers in May. As you sow, so you shall reap. A tale never loses in the telling. A tree is known by its fruit. Auld sparrows are ill to tame. A wilful man will have his way. A willing mind makes a light foot. Be a friend to yourself and others will. Before thou marry, be sure of a house wherein to tarry. Beggars have no right to be choosers. Be slow to promise and quick to perform. Better a wee fire to warm you, than a big fire to burn you. Better do it than wish it done. Better is a dinner of herbs, where love is, than a stalled ox, and hatred therewith. Better ride on an ass that carries me, than a horse that throws me. EVERY-DAY PHILOSOPHY. 315 Better sma' fish than nane. Better to be alone than in bad company. . Birds of a feather flock together. Birth is much, but breeding is more. Boast not thyself of to-morrow ; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. Borrowed garments never fit well. Burnt bairns dread the fire. By others' faults, wise men correct their own. By pride cometh contention. Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shall find it after many days. Catch not at the shadow, and lose the substance. Catch the bear before you sell his skin. Change of fortune is the lot of life. Charity begins at home, but does not end there. Climb not too high, lest the fall be greater. Confession of a fault makes half amends for it. Conscience is the chamber of justice. Constant occupation prevents temptation. Content is the true philosopher's stone. Contentment to the mind is as light to the eye. Craft bringeth nothing home. Cut your coat according to your cloth. Daylight will peep through a small hole. Death is deaf, and hears no denial. Deeds are fruits words are but leaves. Deep rivers move with silent majesty; shallow brooks are noisy. Defer not till evening what the morning may ac- complish. Delays are dangerous. 316 EVERY-DAY PHILOSOPHY. Deliberate slowly execute promptly. Depend not on fortune, but on conduct. Desires are nourished by delays. Deserve success and you shall command it. Despise none despair of none. Diligence is the mistress of success. Dogs bark as they are bred. Do not halloo till you are out of the wood. Do not spur a free horse. Do not touch him on the sair heel. Don't measure other people's corn by your bushel. Don't run away with more than you can carry. Do weel an' doubt nae man, do ill an' doubt a' men. Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. Early birds catch the worms. Easy working when will 's at hame. Eat what you like, but pocket nothing. Empty vessels make the greatest sound. Enough is as good as a feast. Envy ne'er does a gude turn, but when it means an ill ane. Everything is the worse for wearing. Every man's tale 's gude, till anither 's tauld. Example teaches more than precept. Experience is the mother of science. Fall not out with a friend for a trifle. False friends are worse than open enemies. Fear God and keep his commandments ; for this is the whole duty of man. First deserve and then desire. Forgive any sooner than thyself. EVERY-DAY PHILOSOPHY. 317 Get thy spindle and distaff ready and God will send the flax. Good words cost nothing, but are worth much. God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways and be wise. Gude health is better than wealth. Half a loaf is better than no bread. Handsome is that handsome does. Happy is he who knows his follies in his youth. He doubles his gift who gives in time. Help the lame dog over the style. He loseth his thanks, who promises and delayeth. He loseth nothing that keeps God for his friend. He must stoop-low that hath a low door. He 's a hawk of a right nest. He that always complains is never pitied. He that blows in the dust, fills his eyes. He that cheats me ance, shame fa' him ; if he cheat me twice, shame fa' me. He that does you an ill turn will ne'er forgie you. He that has no silver in his purse should have sil- ver on his tongue. He that is of a merry heart hath a continual feast. He that is warm thinks all are so. He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city. He who knows himself best esteems himself least. He who rises late never does a good day's work. He who runs after a shadow has a wearisome race. He who would catch fish must not mind getting wet. He who would reap well must sow well. 318 EVERY-DAY PHILOSOPHY. Idle folks have the least leisure. Idleness is the parent of want and shame. If sinners entice thee, consent thou not. If things were to be done twice, all would be wise. If thou faint in the day of adversity thy strength is small. I have lived too near a wood to be frightened by owls. In a calm sea every man is a pilot. In vain he craves advice that will not follow it. Inconstancy is the attendant of a weak mind. It costs more to revenge injuries than to bear them. It is better to do well than to say well. It is never too late to learn. It maun be true what a' folks say. It 's well that our faults are not written in our face. Keep no more cats than will catch mice. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. Law makers should not be law breakers. Least said is soonest mended. Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth. Let byganes be byganes. Let every pedlar carry his own burden. Lips however rosy must be fed. Little and often fills the purse. Little boats must keep near shore. Little wit in the head makes mickle travel to the feet. Lock your door that you may keep your neighbors honest. Look twice ere you determine once. EVERY-DAY PHILOSOPHY. 319 Lookers on see more than the players. Love not sleep lest thou come to poverty ; open thine eyes, and thou shalt be satisfied with bread. Make hay while the sun shines. Make not your sail too large for your ship. Make the best of a bad bargain. Man doth what he can, and God what he will. Manners often make fortunes. Mischiefs come by the pound, and go away by the ounce. Many an honest man needs help that has not the face to seek it. Ne'er speak ill of those whose bread ye eat. Ne'er show your teeth unless ye can bite. Never look a gift horse in the mouth. Never make a mountain of a mole hill. Never ride a free horse to death. Never sound the trumpet of your own praise. Of a' flatterers, self-love 's the greatest. Of two evils, choose the least. One half the world knows not how the other half lives. One man may steal a horse when another may not look over a hedge. One man's meat is another's poison. Praise a fair day at night. Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. Rome was not built in a day. Saying and doing are two things. She 's better than she 's bonny. Sit in your place and none will make you rise. 320 EVERY-DAY PHILOSOPHY. Strike while the iron is hot. Strive not with a man without cause, if he hath done thee no harm. Take the will for the deed. Tell me the company you keep, and I'll tell you what you are. The book o' maybe's is very braid. The highest branch is not the safest roost. The last drop makes the cup run over. The longest day must have an end. The more noble, the more humble. The more the merrier, the fewer the better cheer. The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. The wicked fleeth when no man pursueth ; but the righteous are bold as a lion. Time is a file that wears and makes no noise. To err is human ; to forgive is divine. Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it. When pride cometh, then cometh shame ; but with the lowly is wisdom. When sorrow is asleep, wake it not. Write injuries in dust, but kindnesses in marble. Ye 're bonny eneugh to them that lo'e ye, and owre bonny to them that lo'e ye and canna get ye. You cannot catch old birds with chaff. You are busy as a hen with one chick. Your head will never fill your father's bonnet. Your tongue runs aye before your wit. THE END. 5 UC SOUneBNflEGgNALUBgWYMgUTJ A 000689058 6