v v ^ ^ «^ %^ c .*?aSr % v *« **^v slighted, slandered, obscured, and perhaps reduced to want. And among all thy evil doings, as if the very devil were in thee — as in fact he is, and constitutes a part of thee — thou hast im- prisoned a citizen of this free country, ostensibly, for diffusing ' scientific knowledge of practical utility ; but, really, for giving thee a small pill in connection with it, slily wrapped up, which thou canst not swallow. I marvel not at thy uneasiness ; but I have a very poor opinion of thy policy. * Superstition is, indeed, a moral monster, at which all good women and men ought to aim a shot — not, as Paul says, " both in season, and out of season," — but on all suitable occasions. Because she begins to grow pale, and totter away in the form of unitarianisra, universalism, he. we ought not to lay down our weapons, fold up our arms, and sit down to enjoy our own seren- ity of mind. But, remembering what she has done, and of course may do, and, moved by the spirit of philanthropy towards even future generations, we ought to take courage from her present condition, and persevere unto the end. Let us see her fairly down, and rfearf, before-we leave her. For she is very tenacious of life, and, like the tortoise, will live with the multitude, at least nine days after philosophy has cut off her head. Or, She is like the poor man's coat — rent by free inquiry in every part, but botched up again, botch upon botch. And until the people in the suburbs, yea, in the very outskirts of the com- munity, are satisfied that the old coat never had any real ground-work, but is all a mere piece of patch-work, altogether out of fashion in the metropolis, theological botchers will continue to find employment. "But," says the religionist, " though I must admit that superstition is as hideous a monster as you represent, still this is nothing against religion ; and it is not fair to attribute to pure re- ligion, those evils, which, strictly speaking, have arisen only from superstition." To whom I reply : — If by pure religion you mean morality, and nothing more, you *The doctor had been most strangely and unjustly imprisoned in East Cam- bridge Jail, and even confined to hard labor, for publishing a book Entitled "Fruits of Philosophy, or the Private Companion of Young Married People/' It is not an obscene but a scientific work, and gives those practical instructions, which with very little trouble, subject the reproductive instinct to the will or wishes of individuals. Dr. K. is a very respectable practitioner, now settled in the town of Ashfield, Franklin Co. Mass. — Publisher. are right. But I apprehend, you mean something that comes within the definition of superstition. « Definition ! definition !— I never trouble my brain with any of vour scholastic subtleties. You free inquirers reason so much by the square and compass, and are so particular and exact about the meaning of words, I am out of all patience with you. How- ever, I will hear how you define superstition." Well superstition is a belief in that, of which our experience zives us' no knowledge ; and which cannot stand the test of rea- fon and free inquiry. To say it consists in certain creeds or doctrines, is to say the same thing, for creeds or doctrines are but opinions or beliefs expressed. . « Oh indeed, I have no kind of objection to this definition. It is very concise, very proper, and I see at once that I have no superstition about me. For though I believe in some things which never act upon our senses, and, of course, our experience gives us no knowledge of them ; still, what I believe, will stand the test of reason and free inquiry." Very well. Let it go at that. Now do be consistent— do prove your sincerity and the real strength and soundness of your convictions. Let us see no uneasiness while such inquiry is being made. And if a free inquirer want a school-house, a hall, or a meeting house, to lecture in, let him have it. Why should you refuse ? what can you fear ? « Fear hem fear, why 1 fear he would lead weak minds astray." . Lead weak minds astray, gracious heaven ! Do you lay claims to common sense, and yet not have sense to know, that it is not a property of error to find the mind right, and to set it wrong? so far from it, it is the reverse, exactly the reverse— "it is the property of truth to find the mind wrong, and to set it right. _ Whoever heard of the mind being right in relation to a physio- logical, geological, astronomical, or any other subject, (theologi- cal excepted,) in which the exercise of reason is required, and then set wrong by feeble error-much less by free inquiry? There is something in truth, so easy, so simple, so harmonious, that when one is fairly in possession of it, all the error from the pulpits of hell cannot shake it from him. Free inquiry strengthens the mind, and weak ones, of all others, stand the most in need of it. „.,,-.-• n i oa j No, my dear Sir, vou are not afraid that free inquiry will lead to error. It would be a libel on your understanding for me to say it. You know it is the road to truth, and for this very reason you dread it. You probably thought your opinions were strong — you probably thought they were truths which cannot be shaken; but when they are about to be put to the test — when free inquiry is proposed, you find you were mistaken, you find you dread it. 1 Yes, my friends, every effort to hinder and obstruct free inqui- ry, is a downright acknowledgement in favor of the sect, for ac- 5 tions speak truer than words. And I propose, that hereafter, all notices of such efforts, in the papers, be headed : An acknowl- i edgement m favor of the free inquirers. I intend this day to attack — and perhaps I shall rend — the very vitals of superstition, by explaining the phenomena of thought up- on the principle of Materialism, and by so doing, remove that \ which has most led men to believe in spiritualities : which belief is, indeed, about as essential to the continuance of superstition, as the heart is to animal life. In preparing for this purpose, I have not had the assistance of books ; I am not accustomed to speaking in public ; I have this 1 day left a confinement by which I have for a season been seclu- ded from society. The subject i propose, has been so mystified by those who have started upon a wrong principle, that few have taken any interest in it ; and, indeed, almost every one regards it as a dry subject, altogether beyond our comprehension. Yet, such is its importance, that, notwithstanding all. these considera- tions, I hope to secure — not your prayerful, but your close and patient attention. I think it was Seneca who said, — u It is hard digging for pure waters at first, but after you approach them, they will rise up and meet you.' Permit me to say you will find it so, in respect to my lectures. Before I proceed to explain the phenomena of thought, it seems necessary and proper that I first give some idea of the organs im- mediately concerned; and very briefly state the grounds upon which materialism rests. By materialism, I mean the doctrine that the thinking part of man is material — not immaterial or spiritual ; and that when a [ man is said to die, he does indeed die, and of course, ceases to think or be conscious. The organs immediately concerned in the phenomena of thought, or I may as well say, the conscient phenomena, are the brain and nerves. The brain occupies the great cavity of the head or cra- nium ; and a prolongation of it extends downwards, the whole length of the spinal column, which prolongation is called the spi- nal marrow, or the pith of the back b*)ne. The nerves are small white cords, of little strength, which proceed both from the brain and the spinal marrow. There is a system of nerves within the body, which is con- nected with the brain and the spinal marrow, and which is unques- tionably the seat of those emotions or feelings which we some- times experience in the region of the heart. But these nerves are chiefly concerned in the functions of digestion, and the circulation of the blood ; and as I shall not treat of the passions, I say no more of them. We have, then, nothing to do but with the brain, the spinal marrow, and the nerves which proceed from them. You must bear in mind, that none of these parts are insulated from each other. They are all connected together. The brain is the ocean, the spinal marrow is the river Mississippi, and the nerves are the smaller streams which empty — some of them directly into the ocean, but by far the greater part into the river Mississippi. Most of the nerves branch out almost infinitely, so that you cannot prick the skin with the finest needle, without touching or disturbing some of these branches. This is proved by the fact that you feel the needle — by the fact that a sensation is excited. Time will not permit me to enter particularly into all the argu- ments in favor of materialism. I must be content with briefly stating the more important ones, that may occur to me. First. We have not the least knowledge of, and cannot even conceive of any being or agent — anything that can act or do any- thing — which is not material. You will understand that an im- material being has no extension, no solidity, none of the proper- ties of matter. It is, in truth, a no-thing. Language cannot ex- press a greater ahsurdity, than an immaterial being. If a thing be said to be extended, or to have the property of extension, but not that of solidity, or other material properties, why, it is so much space, empty space, which is but another term for nothing. Second. We have as much reason to believe — the same kind of facts, altogether, to prove, — that the brain is an organ of thought, as thatt he liver is an organ for the secretion of bile. And it is just as groundless, just as absurd, to say the brain is enabled to think by means of a sentient, a percipient or a thinking princi- ple superadded — as to say that the liver is enabled to secrete bile by the agency of a bile-secreting principle superadded ; or that the jaws are enabled to masticate our food, by means of a chewing principle superadded. The power of thinking is quite as feeble at birth as any other organic power. It increases with our growth ; it is the most perfect in manhood — and it becomes impaired as decrepid age comes on. And we have as good right and reason to say, it 8 ceases at death, as we have to say, that any other vital action or function ceases — as we have to say the liver ceases to secrete bile. Whatever disease, or whatever accident affects the lower and central part of the brain — the part from which the nerves pro- ceed, affects the power to think — sometimes arrests all thought, all consciousness ; and whatever restores the brain to a sound condition again, restores this power. It is true that the power to think sometimes continues nearly unimpaired to the end of life. But in all these cases the disease is seated in some part besides the lower and central part of the brain. — So may the liver con- tinue to secrete good bile to the very last. In all cases of idiotism, the brain is found imperfect on dissec- tion. And in all cases of insanity, on dissection are found struc- tural diseases of the brain, or at least, traces of diseased action. The ability to acquire knowledge, and to perform intellectual la- bor, corresponds with the developement and perfection of the brain. This is true, not only as it respects man, but the whole animal kingdom. Third. The phenomena of thought are essentially the same in kind, differing only in degree, in other animals, as in man ; yet no one contends for the superaddition of an immaterial or think- ing principle in a horse, a dog, a fly, an oyster, fee. and all admit that when they die, they cease to be conscious. Now if an immaterial principle be necessary in one case, it is impossible to see why it is not in all. And if this principle be in its nature immortal, then horses, flies, oysters, &c. have immortal souls ! if man have any. I will add, fourthly, that upon the hypothesis of an immaterial thinking principle, nothing like an explanation of the conscient phenomena has ever yet been given — no real advances in the phi- [ losophy of thought have been made — the subject has only been mystified. Metaphysicians have grovelled about in such a manner, and met with such insurmountable difficulties, as clearly shows that they were all in darkness and error. I am now to explain the conscient phenomena, in doing which, : much I shall say will be a mere statement of acknowledged facts ; and whatever is hypothetical, as some of our statements must be, since that which thinks is hidden from our view while it thinks, I hope will appear so reasonable in itself, or be so well supported • by arguments, as to gain your assent. But that none of your old notions may interfere, I tell you to begin with, that a man has no soul, no spirit, no mind, no mem- ory, no imagination — nothing at all within his skull but just a 9 I brain. We need none of this old machinery — it is mere rubbish — j it would only be in our way, so away with the whole concern en- J tirely ; and I will engage not to substitute in its stead anything I that is one tenth part so complicated. Truth is simple, plain, and ; easy ; but error is complicated, mysterious, and difficult. We will suppose, then, that there is an individual in whom the least consciousness has not as yet been excited — of what age, is immaterial to our present purpose. An impression is now made J upon some one of his senses. This excites a peculiar action of the nerve or nerves of that sense, which action is instantly fol- lowed by an action of the lower and central part of the brain, which part I, for convenience, give a name, I call it the sensorium. This action of the nerve and the sensorium is what we call a sen- sation. I have now made several statements which require some at- tention, after which I shall make more. First. The impression, I say, excites a peculiar action of the nerves. How do I know? because when an impression is made upon any part which has no nerves, as the bones, the cartilages, and the nails, and in such a manner as not to affect other parts which have nerves, no sensation is excited. How do I know it is an action? Why, when a nerve is divided or compressed in any part of its course from the part upon which the impression is made, to the brain, no consciousness, no sensation is experienced. This proves that something passes along the nerve, and several facts which time will not permit me to detail, prove that this something is an action — an action of the nerve. It is indeed diffi- cult to conceive what else it can be ; and it is no more wonder- ful that an impression excites this action of the nerves, than thou- sands of other things in nature which no one questions — than it is that a slight scratch of the finger nail upon one end of a massy timber produces an atomic action throughout the whole timber ; as is proved by your hearing the scratching when you apply your ear to any part of the timber. But I say it is a peculiar action. Why ? whltefore ? how do I know ? This, indeed, is one of those sim- ple, ultimate facts, which none can but believe, and yet, while it requires no support from argument, it admits of none. That the action of the part upon which the impression is made, as also that of the brain, which instantly follows, is peculiar, is as certain as that inanimate bodies do not feel, do not experience any sensa- tion. I say it is peculiar, because I do not believe such action takes place in any part of nature except the nervous system. It is convenient to have a name for these peculiar actions of the nervous system, and I prefer that of conscient, because these ac- 10 tions constitute all our varied consciousnesses. Consciousness is nothing distinct from our sensations and thoughts. To think, \ to see, to hear, taste, smell, or feel, is to be conscious, and there; is no consciousness when you do not either of these. But although it is certain that a peculiar, a conscient action is excited in the organic extremity of a nerve, and in the brain, in i case of sensation, as certain as it is that we experience a sensa- i tion ; yet it is equally certain that this kind of action does not ex- tend all the way from the part upon which the impression is made to the brain. If it did, when I prick or burn my finger, a 5 feeling — a painful feeling, would be experienced all along my arm.t Yet it is clear, as I have shown, that a something — an action, \ passes along the nerves in the arm. But as it is not a conscients action, it will not do to call it by this name ; we must give it another. I choose to call it a nervous action. We see, then,? that three things are necessary to the existence of a sensation, to wit, a conscient action of the organic extremity of a nerve, and also of the brain, and an intermediate nervous action. Yet a sen sation is very properly defined a conscient action of a nerve and the brain ; for although these three things are necessary to the ex^ istence of a sensation, still one of them, the nervous action, con- stitutes no part of a sensation. Another of my statements which requires some attention before I make more, is in effect this, that in case of sensation, the con- scient action of a nerve is instantly followed by a conscient action of the lower and central part of the brain, or, in one word, of the sensorium. On what grounds do I presume to state this ? That it is followed by some change in, or of, the thinking part of man is certain ; otherwise there would be no sensation — other- wise we should not know an impression had been made, or is be- ing made upon our senses — otherwise we could not say, I feel, I hear, &lc. Now if you can possibly conceive that there can be a change without action — if you can possibly conceive that a change of any being or agent is not an action, do it. I cannot. I hold it certain, then, that an action of the thinking part of man instant- ly follows a conscient action of the organic extremity of a nerve in case of sensation, but not immediately, because a nervous ac- tion intermediates. That this thinking part of man is the brain, is proved by those facts and arguments which prove the truth oi materialism, sufficient of which I have already advanced. But the facts which prove that the lower and central part of the brain is the seat of thought, I now proceed to state. Very much of the upper and outer part of the brain may be dis- eased or taken away, without impairing what are called the intel- 11 lectual, but quite as properly, the sensorial powers. Cut or pierce the upper and outer part of the brain in animals, and they I give no signs of even so much as feeling ; nor are any convul- j sions excited. But when the lower and central part of the brain is diseased, or compressed, or touched by an instrument, the in- tellectual faculties are deranged, enfeebled, or lost ; pain is pro- ! duced, spasms and convulsions of the limbs, &c. are caused. Furthermore, all the nerves which proceed directly from the i brain, as the nerve of the eye, of the ear, of the organ of smell, I: and of taste, proceed from this part of the brain ; so, also, does the spinal marrow. Hence all the nerves of the body, either f directly or indirectly, centre in this part. We are not, however, | able to trace them, as distinct cords, to one point. I have now substantiated the statements I have made ; but in- ! stead of proceeding just now with my explanations of the con- scient phenomena, I wish to digress a little. The function or office of the upper and outer part of the brain is, in all probability, that of secreting, that is, making a forming out of the materials brought to it by the circulation, or nervous fluid, (or energy, as some call it,) which fluid, unquestionably, has much to do with our dispositions or propensities. And herein lies the chance to explain those facts for which Doctors Gall and Spurzheim have contended. We all know that a man's propensities, as well as what all agree to call instincts, are very much under the influence of health and diet. The most stubborn may be humbled — not hum- ble through fear of future consequences — his very disposition and nature, as it were, may, for the time being, be changed by ab- stinence. The cowardly and effeminate may be made courageous and daring by a meat diet, and especially for a short time, by ar- dent spirits. You have all heard the story of the king who was about to go to war, and to ascertain what kind of meat it would be best to keep his soldiers on, he imprisoned three men who were as nearly alike in all respects, as he could find. One he kept on mutton, one on pork, and the other on beef. After a time he goes to the first, Well, what do they give you to eat ? Mutton sir, — to the second, pork, I live on pork, — to the third, well, what do you have to eat ? Beef, God damn you !* Now how is it that diet, &c. has such an influence upon one's character ? It does not diminish nor increase his knowledge. — * The point of this story depends on the manner the answers are given. The first man answers in a drawling, submissive tone ; the second speaks with considerable promptness and energy ; the third with great vehemence. 12 The purely intellectual operations are not directly influenced by it. It is probably by influencing the secretion of the nervous fluid, in the existence of which, all physiologists believe ; which fluid passes along the nerves to all the organs of the body which receive nerves. And although it does not really excite any dis- tinct sensation of itself alone, yet it has almost every thing to do with our inward feelings ; for some of which feelings we have no names. We have a feeling of health and activity, a feeling of lassitude, and of despondency ; and in some states of the sys- tem, those inward feelings called the moral passions, as sorrow, joy, he* are much more readily excited than in others — which states, I presume to be dependent upon the supply or deficiency of the nervous fluid. Now if one part, or as Gall and Spurzheim would say, organ, of the brain, supply one bodily organ or system of organs, with nervous fluid and another part another organ, and so on, as is probably the case, we can see how one part of the brain, being unusually developed, may have an influence upon the individual's moral character. I must believe in the unity of that which thinks. I cannot believe there are two or more separate parts or organs of the brain in which those changes occur which constitute our thoughts. If there were, why might we not have (as any one may satisfy himself he cannot) two or more thoughts at a time ? and if two thoughts, why not two trains of thoughts ? and if this were the case, then we should be double-thinking men ; and while one was studying mathematics, the other might write poe- try, for aught I can see. 1 now proceed with my explanations. I have already gone so far as to define a sensation, a conscient action of a nerve and the brain. Inow wish this were the proper place to state the fact, that a thought or idea (both the same thing) is a conscient ac- tion of the brain alone. But as truth will have it, I must now call your undivided attention to the subject of perception ; in treating of which I may at first appear to have forgotten my definition of sensation. Yet, if you do but have patience, I will tell a straight story in the end, if I may but have my own way of telling it. My object is to talk in such a manner as to be understood. I care nothing about your rules of rhetoric, oratory, &c. I am not preaching — I am lecturing. I am now about to lead you through the most difficult part of my system of metaphysics, and if you can but keep the track, you will do well. A part of the difficulty I have to contend with, is owing to our not using certain words at all times in precisely the 13 same sense. We generally mean by the word brain, all the ner- vous matter within the cranium ; and in this sense I have used it all along in treating of sensation. But I have said that the nerves — some of them directly, and some indirectly, by way of the spi- nal marrow — concentrate in the lower and central part of the brain. It appears, then, that the sensorial extremities of the nerves are within the cranium ; and, of course, constitute a part of the brain, in the sense I have used this word thus far. But I am now about to speak of the sensorial extremities of the nerves, not as parts of the brain, but as distinct organs. And I now tell you distinctly, that what I mean by the sensorium, does not include the sensorial extremities of the nerves, but it is that part with which the senso- rial extremities of the nerves are connected, and which is the seat of thought. It is as the hub of a wheel, while the nerves are the spokes. But you are not to suppose, that on dissecting the brain, we come to an organ, the outline of which is distinctly marked, and which all anatomists call the sensorium ; nor are you to suppose that we can trace the nerves, as distinct cords, running any con- siderable distance into the substance of the brain. The most we can say is, that on dissection, the lower and central part of the brain is found to be a white medullary substance, unlike the other parts, but gradually lost in the other parts ; that the nerves and spinal marrow take their rise from this medullary part ; and that facts prove that thinking goes on, somewhere in this part. I do not pretend to know the precise situation nor size of the part which thinks ; but whatever its size or situation may be, it is that which I call the sensorium. Now recall to mind, thq| is, think again, that the sensorium is the hub, the nerves are the spokes, and those extremities of the nerves, which are connected with the sensorium, are the sensorial extremities, while those extremities which extend to the various organs of the body, are the organic extremities. I will now give you the real, nice, metaphysical definition of sensation — the one I have already given, is a coarse, every-day concern. A sensation is a conscient action of the organic and sensorial extremities of a nerve. A perception is more than this. There may be a sensation without a perception, but not a percep- tion without sensation ; for a perception is a sensation, together | with a conscient action of the sensorium, which action of the sen- I sorium is excited by the sensation. To simply say, it immediately | follows, or accompanies the sensation, will not do, — I will illus- | trate. „My thinking part, my sensorium, is wholly and most in- j tensely engaged in playing a game of chequers, one action or .2 14 thought follows another in quick and uninterrupted succession. The clock strikes in the room where I am. Now the striking of! the clock, in all probability, excites a conscient action of the or ganic and sensorial extremities of my auditory nerves, which is a j sensation. This sensation is certainly followed by some conscient ] action of my sensorium, and if it be one that is excited by the ; striking of the clock, then I have a perception ; but if it be a thought relating to my game of chequers, there is no perception, but a sensation and a thought ; and, this being the case, I am some surprised, perhaps, on looking at the clock after getting through with my game, to see that it has struck, — I say, I did not J notice it, — I did not perceive it. Perceptions can be remembered ; for in perceptions, an action is excited in that part which thinks — which remembers. But mere sensations, I hold, cannot be remembered. I believe that thousands of impressions are made upon our senses every day, \ for which we are not a whit the wiser— a man travelling the high- way in a profound study, or, indeed, in no particular study, has the mere sight of thousands of insignificant and common objects, of which he can afterwards have no ideas, and could not say he * had seen them. And why ? Because no act of the thinking part was excited by the objects. I know my views of perception can never be proved by direct ' experiment, for the instant any one should endeavor to ascertain if he could have a mere sensation of any object, sound, flavor, &c» that instant, he would have a perception of it ; but I will offer some considerations, in support of them. ~"~ Every person may readily satisfy himself that he can have two or more sensations, and even think, at the same identical instant. fle may see a man, hear him speak, and have ideas of the objects the man is speaking of, at the same instant ; but he cannot think about the man, and think of something else at the same instant. It is agreed on all hands, that the thinking part of man, what- ever is nature, or whatever name you may give it, can have but one idea at a time, or, as some would say, can be in but one state at a time, or, as I would say, can act but one action, that is, think but ont thought at a time. Yet, is not seeing an act of that which sees, is not hearing an act of that which hears, and is not thinking an act of that which thinks, &tc? Now, as the mere sensations of seeing and hearing — to say nothing of others — may exist, while the individual is thinking, and as but one conscient action can take place in the thinking :?art at the same time, it follows, that the organs or seats of mere sensa- tions are not the same as the organ or seat of thought. A fact il 15 which disproves the doctrine of soul ; but how so, I cannot stop to show. I say, then, there may be sensations, without any act of that which thinks — nay, more, if an impression excite anything more than a sensation, it excites a perception, so that, strictly speak- ing, an action of the sensorium or thinking part, is never excited, in case of mere sensation. But we all know, that impressions do sometimes, perhaps for the most part — excite an action or change in the thinking part. Now, as in all these cases, something more than a sensation is excited, it is necessary to have some name for that — the whole of that — which is excited, hence the word per- ception. Let us now stop, and consider how far we have got. The nerves are the spokes, the sensorium is the hub. A sensation is a conscient action of both ends of a spoke, and a perception is a conscient action of both ends of a spoke, and of the hub too. The sensorium is the organ of thought ; and only one action or thought takes place in it at the same time. These views have not been supported by all the arguments that might be advanced, but by such, as time and circumstances will permit. You will be better satisfied with them, as we get along ; and let me here request you not to be bothering your- selves with the question, How can an action of a material organ be a thought ? &ic. I will make this matter perfectly easy, in my next lecture. There are five species of sensation, and also, as a matter of course, of perception. That is, the spokes are of five different kinds of timber, so that an action is excited in some of them, only by light, in others, only by sound, in others, only by odors, and so on. These five species are named seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting and feeling. The nerves of feeling are distributed to such different and distant organs, and are excited by such different means, that we may very properly say there are several varieties of feeling, as a feeling of external bodies, of heat, cold, hunger, thirst, fcc. Hunger and thirst being excited by internal causes, are to be classed with the organic passions, of which I shall not treat. Now what is a thought ? A thought, or idea, is a conscient ac- tion of the sensorium alone. I say alone, that is, it is not con- nected with a sensation as its cause, at the time. Every con- scient action of the sensorium at some time or other, and perhaps a thousand times, has been caused by, and connected with an action of a nerve ; but at such time or times, it constituted not a thought, but a part of a perception. It was that which, being 16 hitched on to a sensation, made a perception of it. But when a conscient action of the sensorium occurs alone — when it is not excited by a sensation, or, if you rather, by an impression, it is what we call a thought or idea. The grand question now arises, what causes it so to occur, — what gives rise to our ideas ? I answer, the sensorial tendencies. Mark that, the sensorial tendencies give rise to all those actions of the sensorium which constitute our thoughts or ideas. These tendencies are the sum and substance of my machinery in explain- ing the intellectual phenomena. They remove all mystery. Several philosophers had gotten an indistinct glimpse of them, long ago, but not such as to give them " a local habitation and a name." I must begin a little way off, and come along in such a manner, that you will have a clear and correct view of the sensorial tendencies. After you have obtained such a view, I shall be able to despatch business more to your satisfaction. The animal system is much influenced by habit, that is, having acted in any way, it the more readily acts in the same way again. Habit may be considered under the two divisions of moral habit, and organic habit. A man having done a crime, is the more likely to do another. This is an instance of moral habit. When a person commences playing upon a piano, it requires much attention and effort, that he move his fingers correctly; but after much playing, little or no attention is necessary. Here is an in- stance of organic habit. Now there is not, probably, in the whole animal kingdom, any animal, or any organ, that is more readily influenced by habit, than the sensorium of man. This is so much under the influence of habit (after the brain has acquired that degree of firmness which it does at the age of four or five years,) that when a conscient action is excited in it, perhaps only once, it acquires such a strong disposition or tendency to act after the same manner again, — to act the same action again — that it may thus act without the impression which first excited it. This tendency I call a sensorial tendency. It is not a matter of speculation, but of certainty, that percep- tions produce more or less lasting effects in the thinking part of man, which effects, afterwards, give rise to ideas. We all know that by seeing a cat, for instance, we are enabled afterwards to have an iaVea of a cat. Should there be any dispute about these effects, it must be about their nature, and the name most proper to give them ? not about their reality. I say, then, the sensorial tendencies are realities — they do for a certainty exist, and give rise to ideas. If any one dislike the name, let him give us a bet- ter. As to their precise nature, I offer no other opinion than that 17 they are tendencies to action, of a material organ ; or, I may as well say, an organ, leaving out the word material, for, though we have immaterial beings as a whole, if we believe some, yet as these beings have no parts, I suppose they have no organs. It would, however, chime well with the absurdities of immaterialism, to say, " Immaterial beings have no parts, to be sure, but still they have organs ; " and then bring that scripture to prove it, which says, Dives died and was buried, and in hell he lifted up his eyes ! &c. The opinion that the sensorial tendencies are tendencies to action, of an organ, is supported by all the facts and arguments in favor of materialism — as well as the absolute impossibility of conceiving how any» effects can be produced in an immaterial thing, which effects can give rise to ideas. Though this be the only opinion I will offer, as to the pre- cise nature of the sensorial tendencies, still I will remark that they remind me of a little green stick of wood, which is more, easily bent after having been once bent, than before. The analogy I know is slight ; and as these tendencies are the result of animal, organic action, we cannot expect to find anything out of the ani- mal system, much analogous to them. Perceptions, then, give rise to our sensorial tendencies, of which there are also five species, as w T ell as of sensations and perceptions. Tendencies to optical ideas, tendencies to audial ideas, tendencies to ideas of flavors, odors, hardness, cold, &c. Our optical ideas seem to be the most distinct of any, and it would almost seem they were the only ones thought of by philos- ophers, while treating of the intellectual phenomena. To further illustrate what has been said of sensation, percep- tion, and sensorial tendencies, I will suppose that I stand facing the Boston State House, with my eyes open ; — rays of light are reflected by the house, which pass through the transparent coats and humors of my eye ball, and fall upon the retina, which is an expansion of the optic nerve. This much is an impression upon the sense of vision. These rays of light excite a conscient action of the organic and sensorial extremities of the optic nerve. This much is a mere sensation. AnaMf the sensorial tendencies I already possess, are not so strong as to keep up an uninterrupted train of ideas foreign to the house, in despite of the impression which is being made ; or, as some would say, if my mind is not wholly occupied with thoughts foreign to the house, the action excited by the rays of light would extend beyond the sensorial extremity of the optic nerve — it would extend into the sersorium, in which case I should have a perception of the house ; and if this action of the sensorium so excited should call up, suggest, 2* 18 or cause to occur, other actions or ideas relating to the house, then I should think about the house. I should not merely per- ceive it, not merely observe it, but attend to it. The action, excited by the rays of light, extending into the hub i or sensorium, the sensorium becomes disposed, or acquires a ten- dency, to act this action again, and, consequently, after I get into the country, this action of the sensorium may recur without the action of the optic nerve, constituting an idea of Boston State i House. You now understand what I mean by sensorial tendencies, and i how we acquire them. A little more discourse about them, and I leave this head. Unquestionably, some brains are so well organized, as to ac- quire sensorial tendencies much more readily than others ; but, generally speaking, the more impressions the more perceptions, and the more perceptions the more sensorial tendencies ; for every new or different perception causes a new tendency of more or less strength. The strength of tendencies is increased by repetition of action, 6 whether the action be re-excited by the impression which first excited it, or whether the tendency itself give rise to it. Thus, having heard a stranger's name, you can fix it in your mind, as the unphilosophical expression is, by merely thinking it over ; so, too, the school-boy, having read his lesson over so many times as \ barely to be able to recite it, may get it at his tongue's end, by merely thinking it over. When 1 say, a tendency is strong, I mean it readily becomes operative; that is, gives rise to action or thought. Tendencies become, weak by inaction. I shall account for this fact hereafter. There are two kinds of relation between the sensorial tenden- cies. When I say, two or more tendencies are related, I mean nothing more than the simple, undeniable fact, that they are apt to become operative together, that is, to give rise to ideas in close succession. We all know that when we have seen, even at distant times and places, objects that ar^u related by similarity of look, or in any other obvious way, an idea of one of these objects is apt to be immediately followed by ideas of the others. This kind of relation, for want of a more classical name, I call objective. Again, having seen dissimilar objects, heard dissimilar sounds, &c. at the same time, or even thought of these dissimilar things at the same time; whenever afterwards, we think of one of them, we are apt to think of the others. This kind of relation, I call timaL All language, whether spoken or written, unless hieroglyphics be 19 considered language, is founded on this kind of relation between our sensorial tendencies. The word man is no more like the thing man, than mount Vesuvius is like a pocket handkerchief; but the spoken or written word man, instantly calls up the idea of the thing man, because the thing man has been seen or described at the time, when the word man has been spoken or seen— at the time, for instance, when our nurses pointed at the thing man, and said, " there is a man." As I am now about to close this lecture, I will briefly recapitu- late the principal points which I wish you to remember. 1st. A sensation is a conscient action of the organic and sensorial ex- tremities of a nerve ; of which we may have more than one at the same time. 2nd. A perception is the same, with the addition of a conscient action of the sensorium, which action of the senso- rium is excited by the sensation, or, if you please, by the impress- ion which excites the sensation. We can have but one percep- tion at a time. 3rd. The sensorium, by action, aequirestendencies to act, which tendencies are of themselves sufficient to give rise to actions. 4th. An action of the sensorium alone^ is a thought or idea. 5th. In no intellectual operation does any thing more take place than one sensorial action after another — not two or more at the same instant. 6th. That as certain ideas are apt to occur in close succession, or, as some would say, as one idea suggests another, we say the sensorial tendencies are related, of which re- lation there are at least .two kinds, objective and timal. In my next lecture, I shall consider the question, How can an action of the brain be a thought ? I shall show what takes place in us when we are said to remember, judge, imagine, believe, &c. I shall touch upon volition, free agency, personal identity, con- science, seeing spectres or ghosts, &c. LECTURE II. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN; P In my former lecture I compared the lower and central part of b the brain, which part I call the sensorium, to the hub of a wheel, ) and the nerves, which proceed from this hub to all parts of the) body, to the spokes of a wheel. That extremity of a nerve which is connected with the sensorium, I called the sensorial ex- tremity, and the other extremity which proceeds to, or is distrib- s uted to some organ of the body, I called the organic extremity. I showed that a sensation is a conscient action of the organic and sensorial extremities of a nerve ; and that we can have two or more sensations, for instance, see and hear, at the same time. Yea, and even think or have ideas while we have sensations — | which fact disproves the doctrine of an unextended soul. I show- ed that a perception is the same as a sensation, with the addition i of a conscient action of the hub or sensorium ; and that we cans have but one perception at a time. That the sensorium is so much under the influence of habit, that by action it very readily acquires tendencies to act after the same manner again ; which tendencies called sensorial tendencies are of themselves sufficient to give rise to actions. That a conscient action of the sensorium alone \ is a thought or idea. That in no intellectual operation does any thing [ more take place than one sensorial action after another. That as certain sensorial actions or ideas are apt to occur in close succession, j pr, as some would say, as ideas suggest each other, we say the sen sorial tendencies are related, of which relation there are two kinds, objective and timal. To clear away, and to have out of the way, all old rubbish, I told you distinctly, that a man has no soul, no mind, no spirit, no memory, no imagination — nothing at all in his head but just a brain and sensorial tendencies, and not even these latter until his brain has been put in exercise by impressions upon the senses. I am now, first to attend to the question with which I suspect you have been foolishly bothering yourselves, for (my own stu- 21 pidity was once perplexed with it,) namely, how can an action of the brain be a thought ? My friends, I would ask how an action, change, or state, of anything else, can be a thought ? how can anything — I care not by what name you call it — how can any thing be a thought ? how can anything be what it is, or as it is ? how can fire be hot, water wet, the rays of the sun light — how can a body passing from one place to another, be a motion of such body ? A thought or idea is but another name for a peculiar action of the thinking part of man, the very nature of which action is to be what it is — is to be what we call a thought. That a conscient action of the brain is a thought, is just one of those simple, ultimate facts, or laws of nature, which requires no explanation and admits of none, — be- cause there is nothing to explain — because the fact is simple. To explain any operation of nature is to point out hidden changes which take place between known changes. But where there are no intermediate and hidden changes, none of course, are to be pointed out — no explanation to be given. It is certainly quite as easy to conceive how an action of an organ which we know to exist, can be a thought, as it is how an action or state of an unextended soul, of which we can have no conception, can be a thought. But the truth is, the difficulty of conceiving how anything can be a thought — if, indeed, you will say there is any difficulty about it — has nothing to do with the question, what thinks 9 Facts are to decide this question ; and as I have before said, we have as much reason to believe, the same kind of facts altogether to prove, that the brain thinks, as we have that the liver secretes bile. If time would permit, I would here take a wide range. I would not simply state, but labor to convince you, that matter is nothing more nor less than a combination of properties, as extension, so- lidity, he. That to talk about the essence of matter is to talk about nothing — to utter nonsense. That matter unites with mat- ter. in three different modes, mechanical, chemical, and organic. That as chemical union gives rise to properties peculiar to itself, which we call chemical properties, so does organic union give rise to organic properties peculiar to itself. That as chemical union gives rise to the property of acidity, for instance, so does organic union give rise to the property of sensibility. I would then go one step farther, and convince you, that after all, these properties which arise from combinations, whether chemical or organic, are in reality nothing — nothing but things of our own making. I would show you that all the reason we have to say that certain bodies, or any bodies, possess such and 22 such properties, is because they suffer or produce such and such changes. We say oil of vitriol, for instance, possesses the prop- erty of acidity, and why ? because it changes vegetable blue col- ors to red ; unites with, and neutralizes alkaline substances, pro- duces a certain sensation in the mouth, &c. So too, we say the nervous system possesses the property of sensibility, because impressions upon the senses excite conscient actions in it. But acidity is nothing distinct from oil of vitriol ; indeed, it is nothing but the oil of vitriol acting as it does. If it did not act or do thus, it would not be oil of vitriol, and we should not say it possesses the property of acidity. So, too, sensibility is noth- ing distinct from the nervous system. It is a simple, ultimate fact, or law of nature, that when the nervous system is in the con- ;) dition called sound, impressions upon the senses excite those ac- j tions or changes in it, which we call conscient ; and for this only [ reason, we say it has a property of being thus excited, which property of our own making, as it were, we name sensibility. This is the correct view of the subject. But it is putting the cart before the oxen to say, as many do, that impressions excite conscient actions or sensations, because the nervous system is sensible, or possesses the property of sensibility. You see I have explained sensation, perception, he. without [ even mentioning the word sensibility. It is a piece of machinery which is convenient enough after it is rightly understood ; but it in reality helps to explain nothing— it points out no hidden changes, nor does it excite any idea, except of the word's own sound and appearance. When I say ox, you have an idea of a four-leg- ged animal, but when I say sensibility, what ideas have you be- sides the audial and optical ideas of the word itself — that is, an idea how it sounds when spoken, and an idea how it looks on paper ? But you will say there must be something different in the ner- vous system from what there is in other textures or organs, else why do impressions excite sensations in that, but not ia these ? Now what is this different something ? The answer is very easy. It is a different organization. But to ask why impressions excite sensations in such organic texture as the nervous system, but in no other texture, is to ask another unphilosophical question. It is to question about another ultimate fact, or law of nature ; and of course, the only, and the sufficient answer is, it is so, because it is so. When we arrive at ultimate facts, we come to the end of inquiry. We have not only discovered all we can, but all there is. A deity himself could not explain where there is noth- ing to be explained. He could but say, it is so, because it was 23 my will it should be so ; and this much I could say, if I supposed any of you would be a whit the wiser for it. I think we can now pass along without being troubled with the question, How can an action of the nervous system be a sensation or a thought ? But I wish to take some notice of the word Life, and perhaps the present is the most suitable place. I am much inclined to the opinion that there was once a first man ; but I will not discuss the question whether a first something else made him outright, L at a job, and thei\ dissected out one of his ribs, and made a woman of it ! or whether he was the result of a long series of natural operations, such as none of us have seen concluded : though such a series may at this time be going on, and by improvements upon the ourang outang, or some other animal, may, in a few thousands or millions of years, be comple- ted. I take man as he is ; and I say what I do know, when I say that organization gives rise to organization ; just as infectious matter gives rise to infectious matter, or as fire gives rise to fire. Now what we mean by organization, is, matter organically united, in the form of fluids (as the blood) or organs and systems of or- gans. And when it is so united, the compound or being suffers, and produces such changes, in a word, does such things, that we ascribe to it several organic properties, which we name sensibility, contractility, &c. As it propagates its species, we might say it has a generative property. Now when any organic body or being possesses all the organic properties natural to it, it is said to be alive, or to possess life. There is no one thing for the word life to signify ; and it is put- ting the effect for the cause, to say that life gives rise to organ- ization. It is organization that gives rise to those properties, or those phenomena, which lead us to say a being has life. When from any cause an organic body undergoes such changes that it no longer exhibits these phenomena, it is said to be dead. This is the whole story. I now proceed with the intellectual operations, and first, of re- membering. The renowned Locke seemed to think that a man has something in his head which ought to be called memory, into which ideas are packed away, like mackerel in a barrel, to be again brought forward, as occasion may require, into the " mind's presence chamber," by the very cask which contains them. But he bad good sense enough to laugh at his own notions, and to tell us that, after all, an idea stored away in the memory is just no idea at all. The fact is, Mr. Locke, as all other metaphysicians ever have been — was all in the dark, and with his utmost ingenu- ity, which was great, could not make his ends meet, for want of 24 the sensorial tendencies. These give rise to actions — these give rise to all our ideas ; and when they give rise to an optical idea \ of a man, (and the same of other visible things) we are said to i remember how the man looks ; if they give rise to an idea of his name, also, and perhaps of some place in which we have seen j him, we are said to remember the man. In remembering an j event, we have a sense of time, which has elapsed since the event ; < not an idea of time, for as time is not a thing that can make an impression upon our senses, and thereby excite an action of the sensorium, strictly speaking, we can have no idea of time ; but sev- \ eral ideas occurring together constitute what may be called a sense of time. When a man remembers a past event, (and he never j remembers any other) his sense of time is composed, as it were, of ideas that have been created — or rather the sensorial tenden- . cies which give rise to them — by impressions made upon his sen- ses since the time of the event. Had he instantly fell into a state of profound apoplexy, and remained so ten years, or ten thousand years, on coming to, and being asked when the event happened, his answer would be, just now. If we must say, that remembering is something different from simple, every-day thinking, perhaps we cannot do better than to say, that to remember any thing, is to have several ideas relating to that thing. It is not a memory, however, that give^riseto these ideas, but sensorial tendencies. Remembering is not an act of the will, for in the first place, : there is no will, philosophically speaking^ but if there were, you all know you cannot always remember things when you wish to. Nor can you always think, think of, or remember a man's name, for instance, when you know it. I mention this, to ask what it is to know a thing when you cannot think of it. It is to have sensorial tendencies to think of the thing, which tendencies do not become operative — do not give rise to actions or ideas on the occasion. I very much suspect, that an inconsiderate immaterialist w r ould attempt to refute my views, by telling us that an old man can re- member the events of his youth, yet every particle of his youth- ly brain has been removed, a little at a time, by a process call- ed absorption ; and that another brain was as gradually formed in its stead, by a process called nutrition. And, how is it, he would exultingly ask, that the new brain comes to have the sensorial tendencies of the former one, seeing that the. impressions which gave rise to these tendencies have never operated on the new brain ? I will answer — I will even turn this matter to my own advantage. 25 I admit that absorbent vessels are found in every part of the system but the brain, and probably the whoLe matter of the sys- tem — except for the present the brain — is changed as often as once in seven years, or thereabouts. But large as the brain is, and as much blood as is sent to it — it being one fifth of all the blood — it is a remarkable fact, that no such vessels can be found within the skull. It is only from analogy, then, that we infer, that the matter of the brain is changed . Yet I admit it — I hope it is so. It enables me to account for our entirely forgetting many things, so that when another person attempts to remind us of them, we can have no idea about them ; which fact I defy an immaterialist to account for, in any probable manner. But how is it, that an old man is enabled to remember many of the events of his youth ? It is because, that throughout his whole life, he has thought of these events more frequently than his brain has changed. When a former brain was but partly gone, its. sensorial tendencies were only weakened. The stronger ones were still sufficient to give rise to action, and they did so. This action or repetition of action, renewed their strength, and thus the sensorial tendencies have been kept good, through all the changes the brain is supposed to have undergone. Many of the weaker sensorial tendencies, however, not renew- ing their strength by action, were rendered so very weak by the gradual removal of the brain in which they were first created, that after a time it became utterly impossible for them to give rise to actions or thoughts, and so they were finally carried clear off — the impressions which first gave rise to/ them are completely for- gotten, and the man is as ignorant as if these impressions had never been made. After the brain becomes dry and stiff, as it often does from old age, hard drinking, &c, impressions produce such weak sensorial tendencies, that the events of yesterday cannot be remembered ; yet the events of youth having been thought of frequently during a long life, such strong tendencies to think of them have been produced, that the infirm old man can think of events of his youth, but, as I have just said, not those of yesterday. I should be pleased to see how an immaterialist would attempt to account for this fact. To judge is to think of all the facts relating to the thing judged of, in an uninterrupted order. I say all the facts, that is, all you know — all you have senso- rial tendencies sufficiently strong to give rise to ideas of. If you know all the facts which have any bearing on the subject or ques- tion, and the strength and relation of your sensorial tendencies be 3 26 such as to give rise to ideas of all these facts on an occasion, you are qualified to judge Correctly. Otherwise you may err. If you know a fact, that is, have tendencies to think of it, still if these tendencies be so weak as not to give rise to actions or ideas, when forming an opinion or judging, why, they are of no use to you — your opinion will be the same as if you were perfectly igno- rant of the fact. It is true, that when your opinion or judgment is asked rela- tive to any question, you need not always think of every particu- lar fact relating to the question, before you are prepared, and well prepared, to give your opinion ; for you may have previously summed up these facts, as it were, some of them into one con- clusion, some into another, and so on ; so that when your opinion is asked, you have only to think of these conclusions, in a con- nected order. Or, perhaps you have previously not only formed a number of minor conclusions from the facts, but from these conclusions have come to the grand, final conclusion, so that you are ready to give your opinion as soon as asked. You must take some of my statements on trust. I have not time to illustrate and prove all of them, and I will not labor ta prove to you, that judging differs from common every-day thinking, only in thinking over the facts relating to a question, or minor conclusions drawn from them, in a connected order. But. I wish to call your attention to the comparing of ideas. It seems to have been the opinion of Locke and others, that judging consists in comparing one idea with another, and clearly distinguishing the difference between them. But I say there is no such thing as comparing one idea with another — 'tis all nonsense. All admit that we never have but one idea at a time ; how, then, can we compare one idea with anoth- er ? how can we compare that which is, with that which is not ? or, in other words, how r can we compare something with nothing? Moreover, the very act of comparing, would be an act of that which thinks — indeed, it would, itself, be an idea, so that when it were in being, there would be no idea, not even one, to be compared. I wonder what is the difference between two noth- ings- The truth is, to have two ideas in immediate connection, is to be immediately sensible of a difference between them. Such is their very nature. When you have an idea of a horse, and an idea of a cat, no third act of the brain or thinking part, is neces- sary that you may be sensible of a difference between them, nor is there any third act for the words being sensible, to signify. To have two ideas, without being immediately sensible of a difference 27 between them, and this too without any third act of the thinking part, is, in fact, to have but one idea twice. I say, then, there is no such thing as comparing ideas. Philosophically speaking, there is no such thing in man as an imagination ; but to imagine, is to substitute ideas of things which have acted upon our senses, for ideas of things which nev- er did. And to substitute an idea of one thing for an idea of another thing, is but to have an idea of one thing in connection with an idea of the name of another thing. For illustration, I have an idea of a black scaly body, two crooked legs with cloven feet, a long bearded tail, long open jaws, &c. and think of the word devil. I call it the devil — and doing this, is imagining how the devil looks. It is creating a devil in my own imagination. We have no real idea of things that never made impressions upon our senses. What we call ideas of such things are not real but substituted ideas of them. To be sure, the ideas are real in themselves, but not real ideas of such things. A man who has seen Boston can have a real idea of Boston ; but if he have not seen London, he has but a substituted idea of that city. Now bring him to Boston in his sleep, and when he awakes, he will know where he is ; but carry him in his sleep to London, and when he awakes he will not know where he is. Much more needs be said under the head of imagining, but I must pass to the sub- ject of belief. To think over congruous or harmonizing thoughts is to believe. There is no particular act of the sensorium for the word belief to signify. But when a man has occur a train of congruous thoughts or ideas relating to any subject, his consciousness is such that he says, I believe. But if the facts or statements he thinks of — in other words, if his thoughts are contradictory or incongru- ous, his consciousness is, of course, different, and not such as leads him to say, / believe. I say his consciousness is, of course, different ; for as I said in my first lecture, consciousness consists in, and is nothing but thoughts, perceptions, or sensations. In some cases, the facts known and thought of, relating to a given subject or question, lean opposite ways so evenly, that is, contradict, counterbalance, or neutralize each other so completely, that there is no belief one way or the other. To be in such a state of information concerning a question, is to be what I call opinion neuter. In many cases, though the facts known to us lean opposite ways, yet more of them — more in weight if not m number — lean one way than the other, so that there is some de- gree of belief. We have all degrees of belief, from mere possi- bility, to the strongest conviction. 28 I have here spoken of what I call rational belief. There is such a thing as sensitive belief. For instance, 1 perceive a man ; before me. This perception is, in its very self and alone, a sen- sitive belief, that a man is before me. I say no more of sensitive belief. I find that all the language of intellectual philosophy, and all in common use relating to mental operations, so called, is based as it were on the principle that man is a free agent ; and is calcu- lated to keep up this erroneous doctrine. Hence it is very diffi- cult for me to treat of the sensorial operations, so as not to be misunderstood. When I say a man thinks, believes, remembers, &c. I do not mean that he, as a free agent, does anything ; but that his senso- rial tendencies^ give rise to thoughts, just as all other causes give rise to their effects. When I advise a man to reflect on the conduct of his past life, what do I expect ? Not, surely, that he, as a free agent, will set himself about it, but that I, myself, set him about it. I expect my saying so to him, will set his thinking part a going that way ; and as his sensorial tendencies are related,' when one thought re- lating to his past conduct is caused to occur, others will follow. We talk about a man's changing his opinions. It is all false. No man upon earth ever changed his opinions. If his opinions have been really changed, new light alone has done it. Some- thing has created new sensorial tendencies, or changed the rela- tions between the old ones. Volition. By this word is meant the power of performing vol- untary motions. I must treat of it very briefly, first requesting you to consider that the word power is not the name of any thing distinct from a material substance, any more than strength is dis- tinct from a bar of iron. All voluntary motions are performed by the contraction of vol- untary muscles — which are fleshy bodies arising from some bones and passing their slender cord, like ends beyond joints, are in- serted into other bones. Nerves proceed from the brain either directly or indirectly, through the medium of the spinal marrow, to these muscles. When any of these nerves are divided or com- pressed in any part of their course, the muscles to which they go, cannot be caused to contract by any desire or willing of the indi- vidual ; hence the limb or other part, which is usually moved by the contractions of these muscles cannot now be moved. This and other facts prove that in our voluntary motions, something passes from the brain to the voluntary muscles, and facts which I have not time to state, prove that this something is an action of 29 i the nerves. It may or it may not be the same kind of action as that which proceeds from the organic to the sensorial extremity of a nerve in case of sensation. Yet I give it the same name — I call it a nervous action. Now you may talk as much about volition, desire, will, Stc. as you please, yet by duly investigating the subject, we shall come to the following ultimate facts, where, of course, we must stop, for there is nothing beyond them — to wit ; when certain con- scient actions of the sensorium occur, nervous actions in the sen- sorial extremities of certain nervous tracks set in or commence, and shoot along down to the voluntary muscles, which muscles instantly contract. The three ultimate facts I have now men- tioned, are the most important laws of volition. If time would permit, I would show what takes place when those sensorial actions occur which would cause a man to go to Boston, for instance, were it not that others occur which cause him to go to Albany. I would show that when a man has two de- sires at the same time, speaking after the common way, it is the strongest that puts him in motion. But if the one be exactly as strong as the other, he is in a quandary, and remains where he is until some new idea comes up to turn the scale. I would also show that many of our common motions are performed solely from what may be called habit, the thinking part having nothing to do with them, but to set the machine- ry a going which performs them. When a man is walking, very frequently that which thinks has nothing to do with putting one leg before the other, only when he alters his pace or changes his course. He may muse away upon some foreign subject, as uninterruptedly as if not walking — As the boy said, who acci- dentally whistled in school, " I did not whistle, it whistled." Those who profess to believe there is something in a man's head for the word will to signify, would probably treat, in connection with volition, of a little theological thing called free agency. But as I know nothing of the gentleman, and have no belief in his ex- istence, I sfiall not say much about him ; and considering what has been said, I trust I need not. A knowledge of facts is sufficient to destroy all belief in free agency. But there is one short argu- ment against it, which I defy the subtilties of theology to rebut, namely, there are no actions, changes, events, in a word, no effects without causes ; and one effect as necessarily follows its cause, be it within the head or without, as another. This is the argument. The inference is, that man, philosophi- cally speaking, is no more a free agent than a time-piece. No at- tempt, to my knowledge, has ever been made to refute this argu- es* 30 ment. The course pursued by those who wish not to have the doctrine of necessity prevail, is to blow at it, and attempt to make people believe that, according to this view, it is absurd to punish a man for crime. Whether they believe what they say, I know not j but if they do, they are indeed stupid. Punishment is not, and ought not to be vindictive ; it is designed to operate as a cause to prevent further crime ; and this it is calculated to, do, though man, philosophically speaking, is no more a free agent than a time-piece. It does not follow from this, as same have sneeringly insinuated, that it would be proper to punish a time-piece. Though man and a time-piece agree in one respect, that of not being free agents, still they differ very essentially in others. One is a piece of mechani- cal machinery, the other an organic machine. My friends, 1 claim the honor of being the first ta solve the mys- tery of Personal Identity. The question, What is it that consti- tutes the same man, more especially the same mental, the same thinking man ? is a question which philosophers have been unable to answer in a manner at all satisfactory, though the mental labor bestowed upon it has been immense. In theology, it has been con- sidered important as having a bearing on the doctrine of a future state, and also of rewards and punishments in that state. Perhaps there is no doctrine more clearly set forth m the New Testament than that of a resurrection of the body. Yet, inconsistent as it may ap- pear, theologists, who pretend to believe the bible is the ward of God j are not willing to rest the doctrine of a future state on that of resurrection. Andl apprehend that one great reason why they are not, is, because they are ignorant af what constitutes the same person. They see, that if ta be the same person, is to be compos- ed of the same matter, organized in the same form, then the resur- rection of the same person is a doctrine not to be defended. For, suppose a man die upon the field of battle, he is not buried, — his body becomes loam — then grass — then mutton, then man again ; this man dies, and the' same changes go over again, and again. So that the same matter composes not one only, but sevei^l persons at the time they die. Now if the same matter be essential to the same person, it is clear that all and the same persons who exist in this life, cannot exist in a future, if a future depend on a resurrec- tion of the body. In truth, however, the doctrine of resurrection is free of the par- ticular difficulty or objection I have just noticed, for the particles of matter which compose a man have nothing to do with his identity in any important sense of the term. All that is necessary to con- stitute the same man, to all' intents and purposes, is to have the same looking body, organized out of any matter, possessing the same sensorial tendencies. 31 Yes, it is sameness of sensorial tendencies, that constitutes men- tal sameness or identity, or, as I choose to express it, constitutes the same man to himself — the same thinking man. I need not occupy fifty octavo pages to substantiate my views of personal iden- tity, as others have done in setting forth and unsuccessfully defend- ing theirs. As sensorial tendencies give rise to all our thoughts, to satisfy yourselves of the truth of what I have said, you have but to reflect what would be the case if either two of you, say Timothy Trusty and Peter Grievous, were to exchange sensorial tendencies. Though there should be no change of outward form or look, and though each might look in a mirror, yet all creation could not make the Timothy Trusty man believe he is not Peter Grievous, and vice versa. The Timqthy Trusty man would think of every place the Peter Grievous man had ever been in, of every thing he had ever done, would claim the Peter Grievous property, would believe his name to be Peter Grievous ; in short, though he would own he looks like Timothy Trusty, yet it would be as impossible to make him believe he is not Peter Grievous, as it is to make any man be- lieve he is not his neighbor. We often speak of knowledge as something which a man has in his head. What is it ? Nothing more nor less than his sensorial tendencies* If people will continue to use the word mind, and the philosopher be compelled to grant it some meaning, what must he say ? Why, sensorial tendencies. As in astronomy, and some other branches of physics, attraction is every thing, so in the philo- sophy of thought, the sensorial tendencies are the whole machinery. And now let me show you that neither attraction nor sensorial ten- dencies are things conjectured or hypothetical. They are things of certainty. There is no conjecture about them. But should a man offer an opinion as to the nature of attraction,— should he say, for instance, that it is an effect or a manifestation of the electric fluid, he then offers an opinion, conjecture, or hypothesis, which may or may not he correct. But so long as he means by attraction only the fact or law of bodies, that bodies move so and so, under such and such circumstances, he is on sure ground — he has nothing to do with hypothesis. Now you recollect that I have said, that the sensorial tendencies are the more or less lasting effects, which perceptions produce upon the thinking part of man. Is here any conjecture or hypothesis ? Certainly not. For we do know from internal experience, as certainly as we know any thing from exter- nal experience, that perceptions do produce more or less lasting effects upon the thinking part of man. We know that having seen a thing, we can afterwards have an idea of it, such as we could not 32 have, had we not seen it. But when I say, the immediate seat of these effects is a material organ, I advance an opinion or hypothesis which is to be supported, and is supported by all the facts and ar- guments in favor of materialism, and I have not the least doubt of its correctness. Yet, strictly speaking, it is an hypothesis ; for I do not know it directly and immediately, either from external or in- ternal experience. I never saw a brain think, nor does the simple act of thinking, directly and of its very self, inform me what thinks. Yet the Scottish professors, as Reid and Stewart, have so blun- dered, as to take the simple fact that we think, as good and suffi- cient evidence, nay, positive proof, that man has a soul or mind, which is " not liable to be impaired by disease or mutilation of any ' of our organs." But since I know a man's ability to think is im- paired by disease of the brain, particularly of the lower part of it, I am much inclined to think that if his brain should be crushed, he could not think quite so well for it. My hearers, is it not strange that a class of men should have so long presumed to tell us how we are made, what sort of things we are, and what will become of us when we are dead, when they have never made man their study. A knowledge of man, as an animal, ought to lie as a foundation upon which all systems of morality, and all laws relating to the moral conduct of individuals, be founded. I think I promised to show what it is to see a ghost. It is sim- ply to have that action, not only of the sensorium, but of the optic nerves, occur without any external cause, that would be excited were the person, whose ghost you see, actually before you. If such action of the sensorium alone occur, you have but an idea of the person, and, as it is a very common thing, you are not alarmed. But it is so seldom that the nervous system gets so out of order that conscient actions of the nerves occur without impres- sions, and especially when awake, and the senses preoccupied by real impressions, that whenever they do occur, most people think the devil is after them. However, when external impressions are principally removed, the eyes closed, and the senses, as well as the sensorium, are quieted down into a state of inactivity, called sleep — nervous en- ergy accumulates ; and towards morning the man begins to wake up the inside. First his sensorium begins to act — and though a seeing seldom commences in the sensorial extremity of the optic nerves, while impressions are acting upon the organic ex- tremity, yet in this state, a conscient action commencing in the sensorium extends into the optic nerves — and, the man don't see a ghost to be sure, because we do not call it such, but he sees the person himself. He is not alarmed, however, as it is not un common to see a person in a dream. 33 Conscience is a little gentleman so much talked of, that I must take some notice of him. There is a system of nerves within the body, of which I have 1 not, and shall not attempt to give you any idea. These nerves 1 are unquestionably the seat of many, not very distinct feelings j which may be called emotions, or moral passions. Were I to j speak physiologically, I should call them sensorial passions, be- cause they are connected with certain sensorial actions or ideas as their cause. These ideas are such as relate to our happiness or misery. It is a law of the animal economy, that when these ideas occur, the internal sensations I speak of, arise just as all other effects follow their causes. When ideas of suffering arise, the sensation, emotion, or feeling, which arises is generally called sorrow. But if the suffering thought of, is to be experienced in a future state, if experienced at all, it is called conscience. Conscience then, depends on education so far as this, — namely, if a man be so educated as to believe that such and such deeds will be followed by future misery ; when he does, or thinks of doing those deeds, the emotion called conscience will arise — it will arise in nervous and exhausted systems much more readily than in others. It is no matter what the deeds are, whether swearing or whistling, murdering, dancing or hoeing potatoes ; Nor is his conscience any sort of evidence that he will suffer for doing the deeds. It is only evidence that he believes, fears, or ap- prehends that he shall. Nor are any of those internal feelings ex- perienced by religionists, the least evidence in favour of the truth of what they believe. They are only evidence that they do be- lieve. Only inform a man that he has drawn a prize of $10,000, in such a manner that he will believe, and his feelings will be the same, whether in reality he has or has not. The subjects glanced at in these lectures, together with many others, are much more fully treated of in " Modern Materialism," a work which I published four years ago. It is of course, not calculated to please religionists ; and as it is a little bespattered with theology, it does not altogether suit the free inquirers of the present day. Very little pains have been taken to bring the work before the public ; (for I once knew so little of the world as to believe truth would work its own way,) but unless I am somewhat brain- cracked in relation to this work, while I am ad- mitted to be sane in relation to the common affairs of life — it con- tains many important and original ideas, which will sometime or other attract the attention of some man, who has that knowledge of physiology, and metaphysical speculations, which is necessary to a due appreciation of the merits of the work. tip LIBERAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL BOOKS Are kept for Sale at the office of THE BOSTON INVESTIGATOR, LOWER JULIEN HALL. Entrance from Congress Street, up stairs, first door on the left hand; among which are the following, viz. Taylor's Diegesis, ^ j 5Q Bible of Reason. 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