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ELEMENTS 
 
 OP THE 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF MIND, 
 
 APPLIED TO THE 
 
 DEVELOPEMENT 
 
 OP 
 
 THOUGHT AND FEELING. 
 
 - / 
 
 BY MRS. ELIZABETH RICORD, 
 
 PRINCIPAL OF THE GENEVA FEMALE SEMINARY. 
 
 <w 
 
 .J; In man, the more we dive, the more we see 
 IJeavVs signet stamping an immortal make. 
 Divo to lUe bottom of his soul, the base 
 Sustaining all. what find we? Knowledge, love. 
 As light and heat essential to the sun, 
 These to the soul. Yooko. 
 
 GENEVA: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOHN N. BOGERT. 
 
 NEW-YORK » 
 
 COLLINS, KEESE AND CO. 
 
 And for eale by the Booksellers generally. 
 
 MDCCCXL. 
 
^s-T. 
 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, 
 
 BY MRS. ELIZABETH RICORD, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of 
 New-York. 
 
 PRINTED AT THE BOOK AND JOB OFFICE 
 OF STOW AND FRAZEE, GENEVA. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This Volume, commenced some years ago, in the 
 form of Lectures, addressed to Pupils in a Female 
 Seminary, is chiefly the labour of thought and expe- 
 rience. As a Teacher, the Author felt the necessity 
 of a work on this important branch of science, adapted 
 to the instruction of her own sex, and sought to draw 
 from her own resources, as well as from the records 
 of History and Biography, such illustrations as might 
 assist the mind in making a practical application of the 
 leading facts of Mental Philosophy. 
 
 This "Work, is based on the Truth as we find it 
 revealed in the Sacred Scriptures, and is not intended 
 to enter into the intricate disquisitions of the Meta- 
 physical schools. The Author, has not, however, 
 been negligent in searching into the opinions of some 
 of the best writers on this Branch of Science, and 
 hopes, if not in perfect agreement, at least she will 
 not be found in any great discordance with the senti- 
 ments of the wisest and the most esteemed. Truth, 
 as it is found in Reason and Revelation is her object. 
 
 With the strongest sentiments of affection for the 
 Youth of her country, more especially those of her 
 own sex, to whose instruction for the last fourteen 
 years, she has devoted her time ; to those, whose future 
 
IT FREFACE. 
 
 influence will soon be identified with all the objects 
 most hallowed by us, our literary, political, moral and 
 religious Institutions ; to these Youth, to their Teach- 
 ers, and to their Mothers, this Work is now presented 
 By their affectionate Friend, 
 
 The Author, 
 Geneva, December 14th, 1839. 
 
fio 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTER FIRST. 
 Introduction, - V a ^ 1 I" 
 
 CHAPTER SECOND. 
 Existence of Mind, - 12 
 
 CHAPTER THIRD. 
 Immateriality of Mind, - - - - 18 
 
 CHAPTER FOURTH. 
 Immortality of the Soul, - - - - 31 
 
 CHAPTER FIFTH. 
 Exalted Nature and Destination of the Soul, - 46 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER FIRST. 
 Mind Indivisible and Capable of Action, - 57 
 
 CHAPTER SECOND. 
 The Developement of Mind and its Capability 
 
 of Knowing, 74 
 
 CHAPTER THIRD. 
 Consciousness, - - - - - - 90 
 
 CHAPTER FOURTH. 
 
 Sensation, 101 
 
 CHAPTER FIFTH. 
 Attention, 117 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER SIXTH. 
 
 Conception, 139 
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTH. 
 
 Memory, 160 
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTH. 
 
 Association, 189 
 
 CHAPTER NINTH. 
 
 Abstraction, 216 
 
 CHAPTER TENTH. 
 Reason and Understanding, - 230 
 
 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 
 Judgment, - - - - - - -249 
 
 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 
 Imagination, 284 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER FIRST. 
 Feeling, 217 
 
 CHAPTER SECOND. 
 Taste, - - 32g 
 
 CHAPTER THIRD. 
 Emotions Connected with our Happiness, - 348 
 
 CHAPTER FOURTH. 
 Emotions continued, 36S 
 
 PART FOUR. 
 
 CHAPTER FIRST. 
 Moral Sense and Conscience, - - - 381 
 
 CHAPTER SECOND. 
 Moral Responsibility, 394 
 
Elements of the Philosophy of Mind, 
 
PART I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 Philosophy is the science of reason. It inves- 
 tigates causes, and is the highest knowledge that 
 can be obtained of a subject.. It is by Cousin 
 called reflection, " the abstraction of thought 
 from every external form." 
 
 Metaphysics is the general name given to the 
 sciences that treat of immaterial subjects. The 
 branch relating to soul or mind, is that, to which 
 these Lectures call your attention : it is Mental 
 or Intellectual Philosophy. This science will 
 lead you to an acquaintance with the powers of 
 your own minds, and be the first step in that 
 most important part of your education, Self- 
 Knowledge. We are assured, by a much- 
 esteemed writer, that, " in order to a true self- 
 knowledge, the human mind with its various 
 powers and operations, must be narrowly in- 
 spected : all its secret springs and motives as- 
 certained : otherwise, our self-acquaintance will 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 be but partial and defective; and the heart, 
 after all, will deceive us." # 
 
 The science of Physiology has already made 
 you acquainted with animated nature, more es- 
 pecially with the human frame. Upon exam- 
 ination, we find the animal body to be a most 
 complicated piece of machinery, wonderful in 
 its operations, and easily deranged in its move- 
 ments. The design visible in every part, shews 
 that it was intended to contribute to the enjoy- 
 ment, as well as to the operations of its inhab- 
 itant, the Soul. The eye, alone, is sufficient 
 to shew the matchless skill of its Contriver. 
 This delicate instrument is more complicated in 
 its formation, more beautiful in its appearance, 
 and is better adapted to usefulness and pleasure, 
 than is any piece of workmanship ever invented 
 by the most ingenious artist. 
 
 Yet the eye is but an instrument, designed to 
 convey to the mind, ideas of the innumerable 
 objects of use and beauty, with which this earth 
 abounds. The ear, formed with equal delicacy 
 and skill, is nothing less than the instrument of 
 communication between mind and mind ; im- 
 parting to the soul thoughts and feelings that 
 have enlightened and affected other souls. The 
 tongue, that wonderful organ, moved by so great 
 a variety of muscles, that no dissector's knife 
 
 * Mason, on Seif-Knowledge. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 has been able to trace them, seems designed 
 chiefly, as an instrument to the mind. 
 
 Since, then, this body, " so fearfully and won- 
 derfully made," is intended for no purpose but 
 to be the receptacle, or, as Plato calls it, the 
 " prison of the soul or mind," how much more 
 precious, more wonderful must be the soul, for 
 which so glorious an abode is furnished ! 
 
 At the head of animated forms, we find the 
 human frame, the noblest of material objects ; 
 the last, best exhibition of Divine skill, enclo- 
 sing the immaterial spirit, said by St. Augus- 
 tine, to be excelled by no object in the universe, 
 except its Creator. 
 
 Mind, when viewed in its wonderful qualities 
 and operations, gives to us a more conclusive 
 proof of the existence of the great Creator, the 
 first Intelligence, than all the evidences gathered 
 by Dr. Paley, or any other, in the world of 
 matter. " Shall we then," says Lord Brougham, 
 " deny that the eye could be made without skill 
 in optics, and yet admit that the mind could be 
 fashioned and endowed, without the most ex- 
 quisite of all skill, or could proceed from any 
 but an Intellect of infinite power ?"* 
 
 When we consider the developement of sim- 
 ple ideas in the mind, until it reaches the power 
 
 * Brougham's Discourse on Natural Theology. 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of reasoning such as we find it in a Newton, we 
 are amazed that this evidence of divine skill did 
 not occur to a reasoner so acute as Paley. The 
 instincts found among brutes, whereby each is 
 adapted to his peculiar state of existence, often 
 strike us with admiration, and lead us to ac- 
 knowledge a contriving Mind, or creating Cause : 
 but what comparison can be instituted between 
 the instinct of the beaver in constructing his 
 habitation, and the intelligence of man in erect- 
 ing, not only buildings for his comfort, but pal- 
 aces for his pride ; in his invention that provides 
 a ship for the circumnavigation of the globe, or 
 a balloon to ascend to heights whence the earth 
 is scarcely visible ? 
 
 The brightness, the velocity, the regularity 
 of motion in the celestial bodies, strike us with 
 awe, and we cannot but exclaim, "the heavens 
 declare the glory of God, and the firmament 
 sheweth his handy work." But, when we con- 
 sider the brightness of the human intellect, the 
 sparkling of wit, the velocity of thought, more 
 rapid than can be conceived, the wonderful 
 order with which the mind proceeds in its power 
 of reasoning, and reason itself, — we are con- 
 strained to acknowledge that Man is the highest 
 object in this part of creation, and his Mind the 
 most amazing instance of the skill of the Creat- 
 ing Mind : 
 
INTRODUCTION. O 
 
 •• How poor, how rich, how abject, how august! 
 How complicate, how wonderful is Mao ! 
 How passing wonder He, who made him such! 
 Who centered in our make, such strange extremes 
 From different natures, marvellously mix'd ; 
 Connexion exquisite of distant worlds! 
 Distinguished link in being's endless chain ! 
 Midway from nothing to the Deity ! 
 An heir of glory, a frail child of dust. 
 Helpless immortal, insect infinite ! 
 A worm, a god ! I tremble at myself, 
 And in myself, am lost." Young. 
 
 With these impressions of the noble nature of 
 man, must not those, to say the least, be con- 
 sidered unwise and wanting in self-respect, 
 who, in the years devoted to studj^, give by far 
 the greater proportion of their time to the con- 
 sideration of subjects, connected almost exclu- 
 sively with material objects, while they utterly 
 neglect those more intimately concerned with 
 the immortal Mind ? They devote years to the 
 investigation of the nature, and the classification 
 of minerals, of plants, or of animals ; they are 
 curious in acquiring a knowledge of chemical 
 compounds ; they seek to understand the laws 
 by which, the bodies that compose the universe 
 are governed ; they puzzle themselves with the 
 combinations of numbers, and indefatigably 
 study the relation of surfaces ; while the his- 
 tory of their own nature, the investigation of 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 those powers of mind by which they stand re- 
 lated to superior Intelligences, to God himself, 
 is totally disregarded. 
 
 Perhaps it may be said of many of our youth, 
 more especially of the other sex, that they give 
 years of study to the acquirement of languages, 
 that are not to be used even for the purpose of 
 expressing thoughts as they pass in :a constant 
 succession through the mind, while thought it- 
 self, in its various combinations, is never under- 
 stood, or properly arranged by them. Not that 
 the above sciences are by any means to be 
 undervalued ; it is only contended that the study 
 of ourselves, of our relations to each other, and 
 to God, should find a prominent place among 
 them. 
 
 How melancholy is the truth, that many a 
 lovely creature grows up to maturity of body, 
 without a definite knowledge that she is much 
 superior, except in beauty, to the butterfly she 
 paints, while she considers herself flattered by a 
 comparison with the lily or the rose. She knows 
 no other use of sweet sounds, in which she per- 
 haps employs one-third of the precious day, 
 than to amuse the listless hours, or to attract 
 the passing mead of admiration. Abridging the 
 moments of a life too short for the developement 
 of the powers of a soul, that here begins its 
 eternal existence ; wasting the freshness, the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 sprightliness, the elasticity of youth, in those 
 gratifications that will leave age without a charm, 
 eternity without a hope ! 
 
 It is a lamentable fact, that in the education 
 of our sex, the showy, even in intellectual ac- 
 quirements, is more sought after, than the solid. 
 We are not so much taught to look in upon our- 
 selves, as out upon others ; into the immaterial 
 world, as upon the material world. The mind is 
 so hurried from one subject to another, that little 
 time is left to examine any. We are engaged 
 in seeing and hearing, not in reflecting. We 
 have no leisure to enter within ourselves, to in- 
 quire what we are, or what we are likely to be. 
 We seem to take for granted that the objects 
 apparent are reality, when the serious truth is, 
 that the things invisible will soon be to us, the 
 sole realities ; that the Soul, w T ith its amazing 
 powers, its responsibilities, and its relation to 
 its Creator, will soon be the only subject with 
 which we can be concerned. 
 
 "It is admitted, of course, that we can no 
 more create matter than we can mind, and we 
 can influence mind in a way altogether anala- 
 gous to our power of modulating matter. By 
 means of the properties of matter, we can form 
 instruments, machines and figures. So, by 
 availing ourselves of the properties of mind, we 
 can affect the intellectual faculties — exercising 
 
INTRODUCTION", 
 
 them, training and improving them : producing, 
 as it were, new forms to the understanding. 
 Nor is there a greater difference between the 
 mass of rude iron, from which we make steel, 
 and the thousands of watch-springs into which 
 that steel is cut, or the chronometer which we 
 form of this and other masses equally inert — 
 than there is between the untutored, indocile 
 faculties of a rustic, who has grown up to man- 
 hood without education, and the skill of the 
 artist who invented the chronometer, and the 
 mathematician who uses it to trace the motions 
 of the heavenly bodies." 
 
 The above beautiful passage, extracted from 
 Lord Brougham's Discourse on Natural The- 
 ology, shews strikingly the difference established 
 in the human family by the cultivation of the 
 mental powers. The savage inhabitant of New- 
 Zealand, or the Hottentot of South Africa, seems 
 but little advanced in intellect above the Ourang- 
 Outang of his native woods, while the enlight- 
 ened, refined and benevolent Christian, appears 
 to belong to beings of a superior nature. 
 
 The possibility must be admitted that the 
 mind of a savage might be so cultivated, by 
 early and careful instruction, as to bring him to 
 an equality with the enlightened and refined 
 inhabitant of Christendom. Still it seems dif- 
 ficult to admit with Cousin, that "man in intel- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 lect is equal to man," and that "the only differ- 
 ence that exists, is the difference of more or 
 less, the difference of form." He says, " A 
 peasant, the meanest of peasants, knows as 
 much as Leibnitz, about himself, about the world 
 and God, and about their relations: but he does 
 not possess the secret and complete explication 
 of that knowledge, he knows not how to account 
 for it."* 
 
 The discussion of this difference of opinion 
 respecting the equality of mind, imports but 
 little in this place. It may not be true that 
 " man is the equal of man," yet it undoubtedly 
 is true, that cultivation may render the mean- 
 est of peasants equal to Leibnitz himself. God 
 is no "respecter of persons" in the bestowment 
 of His gifts. As he has made of " one blood" 
 all nations of the earth, so has He dispensed 
 intellect, high and powerful, among every na- 
 tion, rank and sex. He has not indeed "seen 
 fit to clothe all flesh with the same muscular 
 power, or to crown all flesh with the same in- 
 tellectual stature, or to confound all flesh with 
 the same providential allotments ;"f yet in intel- 
 lectual endowments as well as in other respects, 
 has He placed us in the same state of respon- 
 
 * History of Philosophy, by Victor Cousin, page 38. 
 f Mr. Barnard's Discourse before the Phi Beta Kappa 
 Society. 
 
10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 sibility, as rested upon those among whom the 
 Lord divided the talents. None are excusable 
 for the misimprovement of these powers, or for 
 neglect in their cultivation ; more especially are 
 those guilty, who having themselves drank 
 largely from the streams of knowledge and of 
 truth, think lightly of participating them with 
 others. 
 
 Knowledge, that is, self-knowledge, and the 
 knowledge of God, are treasures open to all. 
 The one we carry within us, the other we find 
 in the Book of Revelation. With the first of 
 these we have now to do. In this, as well as in 
 every other intellectual acquisition, we find 
 humble and patient inquiry an indispensable 
 requisite. To know ourselves, we must turn 
 our thoughts within : we must examine the 
 means, or powers we possess, internally, for 
 acquiring knowledge, and use them industri- 
 ously ; we must look at the springs of internal 
 action, and direct them properly. 
 
 In this study would I most earnestly direct 
 you to the Word of God. There, alone, will 
 you find a true history of man, from his first 
 formation. In that sacred Book, are laid open 
 all the springs of action in the soul, and the 
 causes which philosophy no where points out, 
 of the defect, so apparent, in human character. 
 And there, where you study the disease, will 
 
x INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 you find the remedy, and the great Physician 
 to make the application. 
 
 May these Lectures aid you, my beloved young 
 friends, in this research. May you be led to see 
 your own strength, as well as your own weak- 
 ness ; the exaltation of your nature, as well as 
 its degradation. Your inability in yourselves to 
 change what is wrong — your power in God to 
 do what is right. 
 
 The subject before us will be divided into 
 four parts : 
 
 1st. The existence, nature and destination of 
 the soul. 
 
 2d. Its power of acquiring, retaining and 
 usino- knowledge. 
 
 3d. Its capability of enjoying or suffering, 
 arising from its relation to surrounding objects, 
 or to other beings. 
 
 4. Its moral responsibility. 
 
 The First Part will bring evidence of the ex- 
 istence of Mind independent of Matter ; of its 
 superiorly to the mere animal ; its affinity to 
 the Creating Mind ; and its state of progression, 
 arguing its immortal and high destiny. 
 
 The Second Part will treat of the Develope- 
 ment of the Intelligence and Reason in Con- 
 sciousness, Sensible Perception, Attention, Con- 
 ception, Memory, Association, Imagination, Ab- 
 straction and Judgment. 
 
12 EXISTENCE OF MIND. 
 
 The Third Part will comprise the Emotions 
 and Passions of the Soul. 
 
 The Fourth, the Will and Conscience, inclu- 
 ding directions for the cultivation of Mind, and 
 the formation of Character. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 EXISTENCE OF MIND. 
 
 Matter is substance that may be perceived 
 through the medium of the senses. It has form, 
 colour, weight, taste, smell ; is hard or soft, 
 moveable or immoveable. Those who are ac- 
 quainted with the principles of Natural Philos- 
 ophy, will perceive that some of these proper- 
 ties are inherent in matter, and that others de- 
 pend on circumstances. The human body is a 
 material substance ; that is, it has the properties 
 of matter — so has a stone or rock. 
 
 When we enquire into the difference between 
 the animal body and a stone, we perceive that 
 the stone has no voluntary or instinctive motion, 
 no apparent growth ; that it does not decay. 
 The animal body grows, after a certain time 
 decays and dies, then turns to dust. This is 
 also true of a plant. 
 
 The plant from a seed, springs out of the 
 
EXISTENCE OP MIND. 13 
 
 ground. Like an animal, it grows from a state 
 of infancy to maturity ; it then withers and dies. 
 A stone or rock has no life ; it is inanimate. A 
 plant has life, for it grows, it blossoms, bears 
 fruit and decays : it is animate ; but it has no 
 power to remove from the place assigned it ; 
 where it is planted, there it remains. Though 
 provided with vessels to receive nourishment, 
 it has no organs of sight, of hearing, or of smell ; 
 neither has it a voice to utter sound. But man 
 has voluntary action and five senses, enabling 
 him to perceive objects ; so has a horse or a dog. 
 Still there is a difference ; a brute ' animal 
 moves as his inclination prompts him ; he per- 
 ceives objects by means of sight, hearing, or any 
 of the senses ; but there is a difference in the 
 perception and movements of man, that shows 
 an existence above that of the mere animal. A 
 dog or any other brute animal undoubtedly per- 
 ceives common objects, but he is attracted to 
 them in no other way than as they serve to grat- 
 ify his appetite, or minister to his comfort. He 
 avoids them when annoyed or frightened. But 
 who ever saw a brute take pleasure in the beauty 
 of form or of color ; find rapture in the sublim- 
 ity of objects, or admire their utility ? Sounds 
 are distinguished by brutes so nicely that they 
 perceive danger when man hears nothing ; the 
 slightest whistle from the masters' s lips, will 
 
14 EXISTENCE OF MIND. 
 
 arouse the attention of his faithful dog ; the tones 
 of affection and reproof convey meaning to him. 
 But brutes are not moved by the most power- 
 ful eloquence; neither do they understand ne- 
 cessary relations. The highest moral action 
 draws no approbation, even from brutes, like 
 the monkey, of instinct so wonderful, that it 
 often seems to surpass the greatest human 
 acuteness. 
 
 Man, in common with other animals, has appe- 
 tites and senses, that enable him to provide for his 
 existence, and the comforts of sensitive life. He 
 sees objects that are good or hurtful ; he has the 
 power of motion to seize or avoid them ; he has 
 appetites that prompt him to prolong his exist- 
 ence. So far is he an animal. But in man 
 there is something which brutes do not possess. 
 Sensible objects, when perceived by him, act 
 upon a hidden spring, causing the overflowing 
 of joy, or of sorrow ; occasioning approbation 
 or disgust. The loveliness of a spring morning 
 — the stillness of a summer evening — the va- 
 riety of natural scenery, produce delight. The 
 soft tones of the flute, still more those of the 
 human voice, have for the ear an inexpressible 
 charm. While on the contrary, objects unnat- 
 ural or loathsome, create disgust. Sounds that 
 are harsh or discordant, occasion pain. An act 
 of benevolence gains approbation; amiability 
 
EXISTENCE OF MIND. 15 
 
 of disposition attracts affection, and a cruel ac- 
 tion, or a wicked character, would meet with 
 disapprobation, even abhorrence. 
 
 In instinct, also, man in his infant and savage 
 state, is an animal. The actions that in those 
 conditions tend to preserve life and provide for 
 its wants, are mostly instinctive. But in this 
 he is far the inferior of the brute. Instinct would 
 not teach a child to distinguish poison from food ; 
 nor would it teach a man to work unerringly as 
 does the bee, by a rule that has never varied 
 for thousands of years ; choosing for the con- 
 struction of its habitation the best of all possible 
 angles ; one hundred and twenty degrees for the 
 sides of its little room, and the angles of one hun- 
 dred and ten and seventy degrees for the incli- 
 nations of the roof. In this, the little insect 
 never varies, it never improves. But man has 
 something within by which he knows the essen- 
 tial relations of things, by which he knows him- 
 self, and by which he learns to distinguish what 
 is good for him and what is hurtful. He grad- 
 ually learns to improve his condition, to mul- 
 tiply his comforts, even to luxuries. He also 
 subdues animals, who far surpass him in strength. 
 Not only brutes, but every element in nature be- 
 come his property ; time and opportunity ren- 
 der him master of the whole material world. 
 
 These instances show that there is in man 
 
16 EXISTENCE OF MIND. 
 
 something upon which sensible and moral ob- 
 jects act, causing emotions of pain and pleasure, 
 as well as high attainment of power. In these 
 respects, as well as in speech, we find no affin- 
 ity between man and the brute. 
 
 But there are other instances that show a 
 higher nature than the animal. An object is 
 presented to the sight, —we notice its form, its 
 colour and other qualities. We close our eyes, 
 or withdraw the object, but it is not gone ; its 
 form, its colour, is still there. Still where? it 
 is present, but not to the eye. We have then 
 a sight which is not of the body. We hear 
 sounds at night that terrify us ; at the return of 
 the same season, - the same sounds return with 
 all their terror. Scenes or circumstances in 
 which we have formerly been interested, friends 
 of past years, return to us in the hours of soli- 
 tude or of darkness. Return, not to our bodily 
 senses, no, but to something within us, upon 
 which the impression made is often deeply pain- 
 ful, or highly pleasurable. Different objects 
 being presented, we immediately compare them 
 as to beauty, utility, or other qualities, and with- 
 in ourselves establish a preference. Should 
 this proffered object be attainable, a desire of 
 possession arises, and we take measures to ac- 
 quire what to us appears desirable , success in 
 this would produce joy, disappointment, sor- 
 
EXISTENCE OF MIND. 17 
 
 row. The expectation of desired good, creates 
 hope, the certainty that it cannot be obtained, 
 despair. Injuries received, fill us with anger, 
 good bestowed, with gratitude ; and we feel 
 within us liberty to act or not to act, as inclina- 
 tion prompts. 
 
 When we reflect upon ourselves and perceive 
 within us this power of retaining the images of 
 outward objects, of recalling, of connecting and 
 comparing them ; when we attend to the emo- 
 tions such objects produce, and the actions they 
 prompt, we feel assured that there is within us 
 a thinking, active, feeling principle. To this 
 has been given the name of Mind, or Soul. It 
 has already been shown that the body is mate- 
 rial , that is, it has the properties of matter : It 
 grows and lives like a plant, it moves, sees, 
 hears, feels, like an animal, and at length dies 
 and returns like every kind of matter, to original 
 dust. The Soul is not matter. It is neither to 
 be seen or touched, nor do we know in what 
 part of the body it is lodged. We call it imma- 
 terial ; it is, strictly speaking, that part we call 
 Myself. When death has dissolved the connec- 
 tion between the body and Soul of a dear friend, 
 we say he is gone ; though the body lies before 
 us, we call it the corpse. The Soul, or Mind, 
 was Himself. 
 
 " The evidence for the existence of Mind, is 
 2 
 
18 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 
 
 to the full as complete as that upon which we 
 believe the existence of Matter. Indeed it is 
 more certain and more irrefragable. The con- 
 sciousness of existence, the perpetual sense that 
 we are thinking and that we are performing the 
 operation quite independently of all natural ob- 
 jects, proves to us the existence of a being dif- 
 ferent from our bodies, with a degree of evidence 
 higher than we can have for die existence of 
 these bodies themselves, or any other part of 
 the material world. It is certain that many 
 of the perceptions of matter which we derive 
 through the senses are deceitful, and seem to 
 indicate that it has no reality at all. But that 
 the Mind, that the sentient principle, that the 
 thing or being which we call I and we, and which 
 thinks, feels, reasons, should have no existence, 
 is a contradiction in terms."* 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 
 
 Having established a belief in the existence 
 of that which we call ourself, or mind, we nat- 
 urally enquire whether this thinking, active, 
 feeling part be the body itself, so ennobled and 
 
 * Brougham's Discourse on Nat. Theology, pp. 47, 48. 
 
IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 19 
 
 refined, or whether it be something within, that 
 thinks, and acts, and feels, apart from the body? 
 This enquiry becomes the more interesting 
 from the consideration that the doctrine of Ma- 
 terialism, making the Mind or Soul, nothing 
 more than Matter refined and ennobled into 
 thought and feeling, has at the present time 
 been revived and extensively taught among us. 
 According to a late and renowned writer, who 
 asserts, "that until Phrenology was discovered, 
 the nature of man was not scientifically known ;" 
 " man is like other animals, a purely organic 
 creature, with this difference ; that being less 
 perfect in some of his organs, he surpasses the 
 lower animals in the organs of Constructiveness 
 and Reflection." Also, " that mental talents 
 and dispositions are determined by the size and 
 construction of the brain."* Another writer calls 
 " birth and death the Alpha and Omega of exist- 
 ence" ? t Without attempting any argument to 
 disprove such theories, it may not be amiss to 
 inform the Christian student, that the opinions 
 depending on Materialism have been adopted 
 mostly by those, who, in some way, depart 
 from the truth revealed in the Bible. f Mate- 
 rialism, in all its shades, must fall before the 
 Word of Inspiration, which declares, that " the 
 
 * Constitution of Man, by Combe. 
 
 f Philosophy of Sleep. X Note A. 
 
20 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 
 
 Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground? 
 and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, 
 and man became a living soul." The above 
 passage, from Genesis, as well as the declara- 
 tion of the Apostle in the 5th Chapter of the 2d 
 Corinthians, we, who profess Christianity, must 
 deem conclusive. St. Paul speaks of the soul 
 as distinct from the body, using for its designa- 
 tion the personal pronoun We, while he calls 
 the body the tabernacle or transient dwelling of 
 its noble and immortal inhabitant ; the soul being 
 destined at the dissolution of its frail tenement, 
 to be fixed in a surer and better habitation, for, 
 says he, " we have a building of God, an house 
 not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
 
 We see plainly from these passages that, by 
 the will of the Father of Spirits, the soul of 
 man, created in His own image, and, as ex- 
 pressed, by His own breath, was placed in a 
 receptacle, already prepared, of the material 
 substance that enters into the composition 
 of the earth and its products. An importance 
 is attached to the creation of man, very unlike 
 what is recorded of the formation of beings 
 purely organic or animal. The account given us 
 in Genesis, shows that the living creatures whose 
 existence belongs solely to earth, sprung forth 
 from its surface, at the command of the Creator, 
 numerous in kind and form. Animal life and 
 
IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 21 
 
 its adaptation to the various elements they were 
 to inhabit, are all we find noticeable of them. 
 To the creation of man our attention is called 
 by these very remarkable words : "let us make 
 man." Here speaks the uncreated Godhead, 
 as if in consultation how to form this noble crea- 
 ture. A body was then prepared, and in that 
 earthly habitation was placed the immaterial, 
 immortal spirit, made, not in proportions ac- 
 cording to the form and size given to the breath- 
 ing clay, but in the image of its glorious Maker. 
 
 But many arguments may be drawn from the 
 nature of the soul itself, to prove its immate- 
 riality, as well as its immortality. 
 
 Our observation teaches us, that man exists 
 in two states, entirely different from each other. 
 The l)ody has its pains and pleasures, so has 
 the soul, but, how unlike the one to the other : 
 eating, drinking, rest and motion, depend on the 
 senses or bodily powers, and give enjoyments, 
 such as all animals possess. Hunger, and thirst, 
 and pain, produce suffering that brutes endure 
 equally with man. The above are the pains and 
 pleasures of sensation, and are as keenly felt in 
 infancy as in age. The soul has other enjoy- 
 ments and other sufferings. Its thoughts, its 
 reasonings, its feelings, are often independent 
 of sensible perceptions. The blind and the deaf 
 have their pleasures. The sick and the suffer- 
 
22 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 
 
 ing in body, their enjoyments ; the healthy, the 
 rich, and those surrounded by the delights of 
 sense, have their sorrows. 
 
 When once the mind has received ideas by 
 means of the senses, it is busy within itself, not 
 needing further aid from them, in arranging, 
 combining and analyzing its own ideas and 
 conceptions. It needs not the eye, to recall the 
 objects of sight, for the darkest night cannot shut 
 from the mind the scenery of earth and heaven. 
 Without sight or hearing, the blind may be made 
 to conceive the ideas of other minds ; and it is a 
 remarkable fact, that those who are deprived of 
 the use of their senses, exercise attention most 
 readily and acutely. When we wish to reflect 
 on a subject or understand it, what means are 
 so effectual, as shutting out the perception of 
 every foreign object ? 
 
 Again, the train of thought depending on asso- 
 ciation, by which one idea introduces another, 
 has nothing to do with the sensible perceptions. 
 In this state, the mind will wander a length of 
 time, unconscious of any thing, but its own con- 
 ceptions. Imagination combines images so as 
 to form compounds never perceived by any of 
 the senses. Who of us ever saw the Garden 
 of Eden ? Yet the mind of Milton painted it, 
 and that of every reader can take in the con- 
 ception of the poet. The imagination forms 
 
IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 
 
 within the mind a world of its own, gives ex- 
 istence to things that in themselves have no real- 
 itv, carries the mind where the body cannot fol- 
 low. Memory turns the mental vision on the 
 past, — imagination to the future ; and the soul, 
 Janus-like, looks two ways ; while the body, 
 by its sensible perception, is confined to the 
 present. 
 
 " We know the existence of mind by our con- 
 sciousness of, or reflection on what passes within 
 us, and our own existence, as sentient and think- 
 ing beings, implies the existence of the mind 
 that has thought and sense. It is impossible to 
 conceive that that part which thinks, remem- 
 bers, compares, imagines, that of which we are 
 every moment conscious, should not exist. We 
 must conclude, that it does exist, and exists 
 independently of the body."* Consciousness, 
 which is the evidence to the soul of its own ex- 
 istence, demonstrates by means of the memory, 
 that the same thinking principle within us, which 
 we call ourselves, or the soul, that which now 
 thinks and feels, is the same that thought and 
 felt, as far back as thought and feeling can go. 
 The bright things* that delighted us in infancy, 
 the joys and sorrows of later years, the acquire- 
 ments of childhood and youth, the reflections 
 of maturity, are all before us, as life advances 
 
 * Brougham. 
 
24 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 
 
 to its close. The mind is one, indivisible, in- 
 destructible. Memory connects the great chain 
 of its existence ; not a link is broken. This is 
 personal identity. 
 
 The body and the soul are united, but in their 
 modes of existence, are very unlike each other. 
 The body we have now, is not the same body 
 we had some time ago. Probably since our 
 birth every particle of it is changed. This is 
 effected by insensible perspiration and other 
 evacuations, by which the particles of the body 
 are thrown off, while the food we take, supplies 
 their places with others. Like the river that 
 flows at our feet, we look upon it with delight ; 
 it is the stream that charmed the days of our 
 childhood, but it contains not one drop of the 
 water upon which we joyously sported. Again 
 and again, has it mingled with the ocean, while 
 from the clouds above has it as often been re- 
 plenished. The body is formed of parts, is 
 destructible ; but the destruction or loss of a 
 part of the body, takes nothing from the power 
 or value of the soul. 
 
 The body, in fact, is nothing but the instru- 
 ment of the soul. As the eye uses a glass, as 
 the hand manages a plough or a spade, so does 
 the soul use the bodily organs. Vision to the 
 eye would be useless, should the mind refuse 
 to lift the eyelids. The feet, of themselves, 
 
IMMATERIALITY OP MIND. 25 
 
 could not move, should the will determine to 
 remain at rest. Indeed, it is not the eye which 
 perceives, but the mind ; it is not the feet 
 which walk, but the will which moves them. 
 Still more, the mind creates instruments to in- 
 crease the perceptions and movements of the 
 body, or to remedy loss and defects in its parts. 
 Glasses are made by man to assist the sight, 
 carriages to accelerate his motions, cork-limbs 
 to supply the places of those that by accident 
 axe lost. In these instances, we see the supe- 
 riority of the soul, indeed, its dominion over, 
 the body ; for often, hunger and thirst, cold and 
 other hardships, are forced upon the body, that 
 the mind may not be hindered in its pursuits and 
 acquirements. 
 
 But there are ideas which the senses, dperar 
 ting upon the understanding, do not produce. 
 Doth the eye or the ear discover truth necessary 
 or moral ? No, but it is the reason : this, also, 
 in noticing thought, discovers the source of 
 thought, the soul, and the Eternal Source of all 
 things, God. Reason, when it becomes the moral 
 perception, called conscience, shows most per- 
 fectly the soul's independence of the body. We 
 make a distinction between wrong and right, in 
 actions, disapproving the one, and approving the 
 other. Many of these actions are prompted by 
 bodily appetites, and in brutes would not be 
 
26 IMMATERIALITY OP MIND. 
 
 censurable. We should not blame a cow that 
 destroyed our garden in her search for food, nor 
 a lion who killed a man to appease his hunger : 
 
 "Account for this prerogative in brutes. 
 
 They drink the stream, 
 Unbrew'd, and, ever full and unembittered 
 With doubts, fears, fruitless hopes, regrets, despair, 
 Their good, is good entire, unmix'd, unraarr'd ; 
 They find a paradise in every field, 
 On boughs forbidden, where no curses hang." 
 
 With man, this is not so ; the gratification of 
 desire, if attended by a wrong or injurious ac- 
 tion, is to him a source of disquiet, often of keen 
 anguish. Many cases are on record, where the 
 murderer, in the full enjoyment of the benefit 
 he expected from the accomplishment of his 
 guilty act, has been forced, by the insufferable 
 torments of conscience to deliver himself up into 
 the hands of justice. 
 
 Again, death, which comes to man as well as 
 to the brute, comes not to both alike. This ill 
 to brutes, 
 
 "No more than strikes the sense, unstretch'd 
 By previous dread, or murmur in the rear ; 
 When the worst comes, it comes unfear'd, one stroke 
 Begins and ends their wo ; they die but once ; 
 Blest incommunicable privilege ! for which 
 Proud man, who rules the globe, and reads the stars, 
 Philosopher, or hero, sighs in vain." 
 
 In the above illustrations, we perceive that 
 
IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 27 
 
 the mind or soul has occupations, enjoyments 
 and sufferings, in which the body does not par- 
 ticipate ; hence it may be argued, that the soul 
 does not depend upon the body, either for its 
 existence, for its operations or its feelings ; it 
 may act, be happy or be miserable without it. 
 In the most essential respects, it stands inde- 
 pendent of its corporeal partner. 
 
 The question may here arise, why then was 
 the soul placed in connection with a body, sub- 
 ject to so many infirmities, diseases, sufferings, 
 and even death itself ? Why should that which 
 is immaterial, be chained to that which is ma- 
 terial and mortal ? 
 
 This, conjecture cannot satisfactorily answer. 
 We again refer to the testimony of Revelation. 
 There we are told that man was placed at the 
 head of this earthly creation to enjoy all the 
 treasures, springing from its bosom ; to hold in 
 subjection all other creatures, and restricted in 
 his possessions and enjoyments by one object 
 alone. Thus was he made a moral agent ; and 
 his obedience was required in a matter belong- 
 ing to the purely organic senses. " But of the 
 tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou 
 shalt not eat, for in the day thou eatest thereof, 
 thou shalt surely die." We see from this pas- 
 sage, that man's trial and its penalty depended 
 on the connection of the immaterial soul with 
 
28 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 
 
 the material body. Nor can this be a matter of 
 complaint, seeing as we do, the immense supe- 
 riority of the intellectual and mor£l powers over 
 the bodily sensations. Should we even feel in- 
 clined to question the will of our Creator in this 
 respect, we are silenced with the reproof — "Nay, 
 but who art thou, oh man, that repliest against 
 God ? Shall the thing formed say to him that 
 formed it, why hast thou made me thus ?" 
 
 A few reasons for the expediency and seem- 
 ing necessity of a union between mind and mat- 
 ter, will here be set down, as taken from a mod- 
 ern author of some celebrity: — A finite mind 
 must, as we are inclined to think, become sub- 
 ject to some actual limitations, and must un- 
 dergo some specific relations, before its faculties 
 can come into play, or be productive of effects. 
 The union with matter, or the coming into a cor- 
 poreal state, may be in fact, not a degradation 
 to mind, but the very means of quickening its 
 birth into the world of knowledge and action. 
 The first consequence of its birth is, the acquire- 
 ment of locality in the extended universe. Sec- 
 ondly, a relationship not at all less important 
 than the preceding, is dependent on the union 
 of mind with matter, its relationship to time. 
 Nor is it easy to conceive of a social economy 
 and system of government in a world where all 
 are not held to one and the same rate of intel- 
 
IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 29 
 
 lectual movement through their contemporary 
 period. Embodied, the mind, by a progress of 
 natural education, becomes familiar with a cer- 
 tain set or circle of the properties of the mate- 
 rial world ; and then, as in a foreign school, brings 
 its otherwise latent faculties into exercise." 
 
 Again, " thus it is to its corporeal connection 
 with the external world, that must be attributed 
 the mind's liability to various mixed emotions, 
 as well pleasurable as painful, of the class called 
 imaginative. The imaginative sentiments might 
 perhaps, at first view, be regarded as being of 
 a temporary use only, inasmuch as they consti- 
 tute a reconciling medium between the animal 
 and intellectual principles. But in considering 
 them further, it appears, that they go beyond 
 this lower office, and in fact mingle themselves 
 with the highest and purest of our moral feel- 
 ings. The imaginative sentiments, may thus 
 serve at once to facilitate a nearer approach to 
 the ineffable glory."* 
 
 The state of existence in which mind and 
 matter, or to speak more plainly, body and soul 
 are united, is called a state of probation, or trial. 
 This earth, so fitted for the enjoyment of our 
 sensual nature, is not the abiding place of the 
 immaterial part. Daily experience teaches us, 
 that death will soon dissolve the connexion, 
 * Physical Theory of another life. 
 
30 IMMATERIALITY OP MIND. 
 
 however pleasant, between the body and the soul. 
 The soul, often unwilling, must give up its part- 
 ner, so long cherished, so incessantly cared for, 
 to return to the dust whence it was taken ; while 
 the noble companion of its earthly career, bursting 
 like a winged insect from its crysalis state, goes, as 
 the inspired volume tells us, "to God who gave it." 
 Experience also shows us, that the enjoyments 
 of the body are much enhanced by the cultiva- 
 tion and rectitude of the mind. The body even 
 becomes disordered and sinks prematurely to 
 the tomb, unless held in subjection and carefully 
 used, by its master, the soul. Man rises to re- 
 spectability, or sinks to degradation, as he im- 
 proves or wastes his intellectual powers. He 
 is punished or rewarded, according to his moral 
 conduct. The consciousness that the soul is 
 the better part, he carries within himself. Titus, 
 one of the best of the Roman Emperors, ex- 
 claimed in regret, upon the review of a day spent 
 without the performance of a good action, " I 
 have lost a day." And why ? Something 
 within, declared to the soul of the philosopher, 
 that he was born to a nobler purpose, than to 
 waste himself upon the gratifications of sense. 
 This period of our existence, is plainly intended 
 as a preparatory state, similar to the period of 
 childhood and youth, in which the mind and body 
 are educated or trained for the high duties of life 
 
IMMORTALITY OP THE SOUL. 31 
 
 From these considerations, I invite you, young 
 ladies, to prize the period of life, or the union 
 between your material and immaterial natures, 
 by turning it to the account intended by the All- 
 Wise and most Gracious Creator. Let the body 
 be carefully preserved by means of the reason, 
 bestowed, as a precious and distinguishing gift, 
 upon the human soul. Enjoy with moderation, 
 the good things of earth adapted to the senses, 
 always remembering, that they are but subor- 
 dinate enjoyments, and must not impede the 
 progress of your education for another and higher 
 state of existence. " Truly the light is sweet, 
 and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold 
 the sun," but " remember the days of darkness," 
 and while you "walk in the way of your heart," 
 that is, follow the inclinations of your minds, 
 and "in the sight of your eyes," delighting your- 
 selves in the pleasures of the senses, " know- 
 that for all these things, God will bring you into 
 judgment." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 The Immortality of the Soul is a point that the 
 believer in revelation will at once be ready to 
 admit. The assurance so abundantly given of 
 
32 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 it in the sacred Scriptures, is proof sufficient to 
 establish this belief in a mind untainted by the 
 errors of Materialism. " Our faith and hope rest 
 upon the testimony of heaven. We look for 
 another life, not as theorists, but as believers." 
 
 Upon the "testimony of heaven," we are assu- 
 red, that this " mortal shall put on immortality," 
 and that " death shall be swallowed up in vic- 
 tory." Death will overcome that part which 
 was taken from the dust, but the immortal soul, 
 released by his stroke from the mortal prison- 
 house, shall defeat in turn the mighty enemy. 
 Hence the triumphant exclamation of the inspi- 
 red Apostle, " Oh death, where is thy sting ? 
 Oh grave, where is thy victory ?" 
 
 And where is the difficulty in this belief? Can 
 not the same Almighty Being that breathed an 
 immortal spirit in a form of dust, continue to 
 sustain that spirit without its earthly partner ? 
 Can He not provide it another clothing, another 
 house, a spiritual body . p With God all things 
 are possible. And are not such dealings accord- 
 ing to the course of his natural providence ? We 
 see in Nature a perpetual renovation that marks 
 the preserving goodness, as strikingly as Creation 
 displays the Almighty power and wisdom of the 
 great Creator. Water changed into vapor, de- 
 scends again from the clouds in water, to refresh 
 the ground. The sun in his progress towards 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 the south, binds up the earth in frost, and veget- 
 able matter withers and decays ; but soon his 
 returning beam, bringing softening showers, 
 causes the herbage to spring from the ground, 
 and covers the trees with leaves and flowers. 
 Shall this care be taken of the inanimate crea- 
 tion, and shall man, the noblest of the things of 
 earth, sleep in the dust to wake no more to 
 beauty and to life ? The tree, with its leaves 
 and flowers, and fruit, springs from the little 
 shapeless seed. The winged warbler of the 
 air was once an inanimate egg, the beautiful but- 
 terfly, a loathsome, crawling caterpillar. Why 
 may not the noble frame of man, contain the 
 germ of immortality ? 
 
 " Shall man alone, 
 Imperial man be sown in barren ground, 
 Less privileged than the grain on which he feeds?" 
 
 " Considering him as an animal," says St. 
 Pierre, " I know of none so wretched. Exposed 
 to insects, wind, rain, cold, heat and laid under 
 the necessity in all countries to find himself 
 clothing. He knows nothing naturally as other 
 animals do. If he wants to cross a river he 
 must learn to swim ; he must in his infancy be 
 taught to walk and speak, he is obliged to pre- 
 pare his food with care and trouble." Suppose 
 him a grade above the brute, endowed with 
 more intellect and feeling, but intended to finish 
 
34 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL, 
 
 his existence here, still is he wretched ; for should 
 he have collected every blessing his heart can 
 desire, thieves disturb his enjoyment. With- 
 out laws, judges, fortresses, regiments, he can- 
 not keep possession of the fruits of his labour ; 
 and when at last he has it in his power to enjoy 
 with tranquility, languor takes hold of his mind, 
 he is unsatisfied and must have amusement to 
 prevent reflection. The fact is that those who 
 have professed the strongest belief in the ter- 
 mination of their existence here, have had their 
 moments of gloomy despondency , they are " con- 
 founded and affrighted at the forlorn solitude in * 
 which they are placed by their philosophy," and 
 " fancy themselves in the most deplorable con- 
 dition imaginable." In the hours of security 
 and mirth the thought of death will intrude, and 
 dash with bitterness the cup of pleasure. 
 
 " Is heaven then kinder to thy flocks than thee? 
 
 Not so : thy pasture richer, but remote." 
 
 To the believer in revelation, the Divine Word 
 sufficiently testifies to the immortality of the souL 
 To the unbeliever, reason cannot in any other 
 way vindicate the justice of the Governor of the 
 Universe, in His dealings with man. He must 
 " own the soul immortal or blaspheme." 
 
 But the soul bears within itself proofs of its 
 own immortality. What can be a more forcible 
 argument than the fact that man through all the 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 35 
 
 ages of time has looked up to a superintending 
 Power ? Religious worship is the first and most 
 prominent institution, noticed in the history of 
 every nation upon earth. Among savage hordes 
 that scarce show a trace of civil government, we 
 find a sense of obligation to some unknown and 
 terrible power, prayers and offerings are made 
 to good and evil deities, to propitiate their favor 
 or to avert their anger. The Mythology, alike 
 in its features, of the Egyptians, the Greeks 
 and the Romans, acknowledged the immortality 
 of the soul, and its judgment in a future state. 
 Irreverence to the gods was so abhorrent to the 
 Athenians, that, as in the case of Alcibiades, 
 we see the vengeance of the nation pursue the 
 man, who directed her councils, who led her 
 armies, whose person she had idolized. 
 
 A belief in the future existence of the soul, pre- 
 vailed among the wisest of the heathen philoso- 
 phers. Aristotle regarded the soul as composed 
 of two parts, active and passive, the former he 
 represents as alone immortal and eternal, the lat- 
 ter as destructible. Plato has this remarkable 
 expression in his works : "let us choose the 
 best human reason, and sitting on it like a raft, 
 pass through the dangers of life, unless some 
 one can pass us over more easily and safely on 
 some stronger vehicle or divine word." Cicero 
 derived the most refined pleasure from the con- 
 
36 IMMORTALITY (TF THE SOtJL, 
 
 templation of a future state of existence. " De* 
 lightful hour!" he exclaims, "when I shall jour- 
 ney towards that divine assemblage of spirits, 
 and depart from this crowd of polluted things." 
 Here is Reason unenlightened by Revelation in 
 its highest exercise. Man, by one author is 
 distinguished, not as being a reasonable, but as 
 a religious being.* Another calls this religious 
 sentiment " the cravings after a knowledge of 
 the relation between man and the invisible things 
 that influence his destiny.f What then, is this 
 craving of the heart after invisible and eternal 
 things, but a proof the soul bears within itself 
 of its immortality ? It is the testimony of its 
 moral nature. 
 
 Another proof may be found in the nature of 
 the soul to make progress towards perfection. 
 How vast the difference between the mind of 
 an infant and that of a person advanced to ma- 
 turity ! But mark the progress. The infant 
 has just begun to acquire ideas ; he knows his 
 nurse or mother, he smiles at a new or gay ob- 
 ject, takes delight in some sounds, is terrified 
 at others : he reaches forth his hand to seize 
 what he desires, he weeps if the object be re- 
 fused. Here we discern the germ of knowledge, 
 taste, passion and will. But how small these 
 beginnings, like the seed in which is seen the 
 
 * St. Pierre. f BeDJamin Constant. 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 37 
 
 rudiments of the sprout and roots of the future 
 plant. As the child advances, the regular 
 and active developement of ideas is perceived, 
 thoughts are distinctly arranged in the mind, 
 the memory becomes retentive and the intellec- 
 tual powers exercise themselves by degrees in 
 the acquisition of knowledge. The imagination 
 soon displays itself in his wonder and curiosity; in 
 his groundless fears and boundless hopes. Com- 
 parison and judgment are next developed in his 
 choice of objects. Taste assumes a more defi- 
 nite character in his love of finery, and the pas- 
 sions of desire and anger operate forcibly upon 
 the will. Still the child scarce gives a semblance 
 of the future man. Maturity in years, produces 
 a change more apparent in mind than in form. 
 The youth of twenty is unlike the man of forty, 
 very unlike the man of seventy. The fire of 
 the imagination is in this last nearly extinguished, 
 judgment and reflection have sobered the pas- 
 sions, the mind seems ripening for another state 
 of existence. 
 
 The immortality of the soul may be seen in 
 its insatiable desires, 
 
 11 Like our shadows, 
 
 Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines." 
 
 The attainment of one object gives rise to the 
 desire for another, and we pass through life ever 
 reaching forward to something more, and ever 
 
38 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 Unsatisfied with the present : and why ? because 
 the mind is immortal, and is in its nature unsa- 
 lable. This is not so with the brute crea- 
 tion. The horse and the ox browse on the 
 luxuriant herbage of the field with delight, and 
 repose on the shady turf without an ungratified 
 wish, because they were created for the earth, 
 and the earth contains sufficient for their desires. 
 In his intellect also is man insatiable, we might 
 say infinite. The more knowledge the mind 
 acquires, the greater is its capability for the ac- 
 quirement, the more ardent its desires for the 
 acquisition ; and a consciousness is ever present 
 of the insufficiency of its attainments. A com- 
 mon remark is, the more we learn the less we 
 seem to know. This is true, because knowl- 
 edge in itself is boundless, and still more, be- 
 cause the mind expands, and expands endlessly, 
 it, also, being boundless in progression. The 
 very conceptions of the soul mark its nature. 
 Such ideas as unlimited space, endless dura- 
 tion, incalculable numbers, would not exist in 
 the mind, were it not in its nature progressive, 
 and endless in its own duration. Again, the 
 perception of relation in things, the ability to 
 search into cause and effect, the knowledge of 
 Jor myself, the apprehension of an Infinite Being, 
 the first cause of every thing, exhibit in the mind 
 of man, a higher instance of the Creative Intel- 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 3B 
 
 iigence, than any afforded to our observation. 
 Other creatures seem made but to perish, man 
 to endure forever. They understand by means 
 of the senses, man by reason, the attribute of 
 Deity. 
 
 The slow progression of the reasoning pow* 
 ersi is another proof, that the perfection of intel- 
 lect requires another state of existence. Brutes 
 in every respect appear adapted to the state in 
 which they are found. Their knowledge or 
 instinct, never of itself, progresses beyond self- 
 preserVation and self-gratification. The first 
 nest constructed by the little bird is as soft and 
 complete as the last ; the honey made by the 
 young bee as sweet as that concocted by the 
 old one ; the first house built by the beaver is 
 as perfect in its parts, and as commodious as 
 any that may follow its construction. No com- 
 munity of these or any other brutes, ever made 
 improvement in the arts of life. With mankind 
 this is not so. 
 
 "Reason progressive, instinct is complete." 
 
 In instinct, man is below the lowest of the 
 animal creation. Knowledge springs up like a 
 germ in the mind, and advances by progress so 
 slow, that it takes ages of experience and in- 
 vention before an art or science is brought to 
 any degree resembling perfection. The most 
 learned and the wisest of men often look upon 
 
40 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 themselves as ignorant ; so, at the close of life, 
 Newton regarded himself as a child, who had 
 been picking up pebbles on the shore of eternity. 
 Another fact intimately connected with the 
 preceding, is found in the circumstance that the 
 decay of the bodily organs is no hindrance to 
 the progressive state of the conceptive and rea- 
 soning powers, when kept in proper exercise. 
 Many curious instances are related by D'Israeli 
 and others, in proof of this position. Colbert, 
 the celebrated French Minister, in the reign of 
 Louis XIV., returned to his Latin and Law 
 studies at the age of sixty. Dryden, the great 
 English poet, commenced the translation of the 
 whole Iliad in his sixty-eighth year, and wrote 
 his most pleasing pieces in his old age. Michael 
 Angelo, the great Italian painter preserved his 
 creative genius to extreme old age ; a device 
 invented by him at that period, represented an 
 old man in a go-cart, with an hour-glass upon 
 it, with the inscription in Italian : Ancora impara! 
 yet I am learning. Necker , the father of Madame 
 De Stael, remarks, that the era of threescore and 
 ten is an agreeable age for writing ; your mind 
 has not lost its vigor, and envy leaves you in 
 peace. Another French author says, in a trea- 
 tise on the reading and composition of books ; 
 " I should but ill return the favor God has granted 
 me in the eightieth year of my age, should I 
 
IMMORTALITY OP THE SOUL. 41 
 
 allow myself to give way to that shameless want 
 of occupation, which I have condemned all my 
 life." 
 
 Milton, Bacon, Newton, Locke, are all in- 
 stances of the progress of mind until the latest 
 period of life. Such was the vigor of Newton's 
 mind, that in his seventy-third year, he solved 
 in one evening, as a matter of amusement, the 
 famous problem of Trajectories, the most diffi- 
 cult task that Leibnitz in envy could devise. In 
 our own sex, Madame De Genlis, Elizabeth 
 Carter and Hannah More, are examples of the 
 strength of intellect late in life. Mrs. More 
 wrote most, if not all her ethical works in her 
 declining years ; the Spirit of Prayer, her last 
 work, was written at the age of eighty. Most 
 of the efforts of her pen, so pleasing, so useful, 
 exhibiting such correctness and strength in the 
 reasoning powers, were written in the midst of 
 great bodily infirmities : another proof, not un- 
 frequently given in the lives of the good and the 
 learned, that the exercise of the mental powers 
 does not depend on the soundness of the bodily 
 organs ; whv then should the continued exist- 
 ence of the mind depend on the body ? 
 
 Most of the illustrations above cited, were 
 taken from the works of two late writers, Dr. 
 Johnson and D'Israeli. Dr. Johnson says, 
 "Volumes indeed might be filled with the prod- 
 
42 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 igies performed by the mind long after the body 
 had declined from the meridian, and even de- 
 scended far into the vale of years, proving be- 
 yond a doubt that the powers of the mind and 
 the body do not run so parallel in their rise, pro- 
 gress or decadence, as the materialist asserts."* 
 
 D'Israeli remarks : "The old age of the lite- 
 rary character retains its enjoyments, and usually 
 its powers, a happiness which accompanies no 
 other. The old age of coquetry comes with 
 extinct beauty, that of the used idler left with- 
 out sensation ; that of a grasping Croesus, who 
 envies his heir, or that of the Machiavel who 
 has no longer a voice in the cabinet, makes all 
 these persons resemble unhappy spirits, who 
 cannot find their graves. But for the aged man 
 of letters, memory returns to her stores, and 
 imagination is still on the wing amid fresh dis- 
 coveries and new designs. The others fall like 
 dry leaves, but he, like ripe fruit, and is valued 
 when no longer on the tree.^t 
 
 Why in the purely animal tribes do we find 
 instict complete, while in the human mind rea- 
 son is so slow in its developement ? Why does 
 it continue its progressive state amid the failure 
 of the organic functions ? When the body, en- 
 
 * Economy of Health, by James Johnson, M. D. 
 f The Literary Character illustrated by the History of 
 Men of Genius : by the author of " Cur. of Literature." 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 43 
 
 feebled by disease, all its powers becoming 
 more and more inactive, why does the soul then 
 grow more vigorous as if in triumph over its 
 decaying partner? Memory looks back upon 
 the world, and thought is busy in the review of 
 past actions, judgment and conscience sit in tri- 
 bunal upon them, while imagination glances 
 fearfully into futurity. Why does not the mind 
 grow imbecile, and sink gradually with the 
 body to its last repose ? 
 
 The Materialist cannot answer. The philos- 
 opher, Hume, who sported with death, as is 
 said, in his last hours, and Hobbes, who, to 
 demonstrate the reality of his existence, pub- 
 lished in his eighty-seventh year, his version of 
 the Odyssey, and in his eighty-eighth, his Iliad, 
 could not tell. Death came to cut them off for- 
 ever from existence. The soul, which in these 
 infidel philosophers had sparkled in lights of its 
 own kindling, went out in darkness. These 
 towering and arrogant spirits became fools in 
 their own reasonings, and consented to lie down 
 at last with the brutes ! There are those 
 
 14 Who resist 
 The rising thought, who smother in its birth 
 The glorious truth; who struggle to be brutes." 
 
 Man is eminently a social being. All the good 
 bestowed by riches, pleasure, power, is unsat- 
 isfactory, unless it be participated by some kin- 
 
44 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 dred spirit, some beloved object. The mind 
 naturally seeks its rest upon some other mind, 
 there is an interchange of thought and feeling 
 wholly spiritual. To facilitate this social inter- 
 course, speech, the prerogative of man, has been 
 furnished. 
 " Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied." 
 
 With what wonderful fondness does the Mo- 
 ther look upon her infant ; its innocent caresses 
 afford her transporting delight, her cares, her 
 labors, her watchings, know no bounds. But 
 the period of infancy does not end these cares. 
 Childhood arid youth call forth fresh anxiety in 
 the Mother's bosom, and when manhood glows 
 upon the brow of her son, she looks on him 
 who drew both life and nourishment from her, 
 with an affection more true, more loving, more 
 exalted than any feeling that glows within the 
 human breast. It is friendship the most refined. 
 Oh how unlike is this love to the love of the 
 mother brute ! Instinctive affection is fierce, 
 and passes away so entirely that the brute knows 
 not her own progeny when they leave her fos- 
 tering care. 
 
 How can we believe that the social ties which 
 become stronger the longer they endure, stronger 
 even than the love of life, shall soon be forever 
 broken ? that the Christian Mother, wife, sister, 
 friend, who follows the beloved one through life 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 45 
 
 with ceaseless affection, and at its close, looks 
 beyond the precincts of the tomb, with hope to 
 a joyful re-union, where sorrows and separation 
 are no more, shall love and hope in vain ? Far 
 more reasonable is it to believe that these de- 
 sires and hopes are from the Author of our na- 
 ture, and are an earnest that they in future will 
 be gratified. To suppose the contrary, would 
 derogate from the goodness of the Supreme Cre- 
 ator, so wonderfully displayed through all His 
 works. " For what more cruel than to create 
 this earnest and universal longing, and not grat- 
 ify it?" 
 
 Let us leave to the heathen philosopher the 
 uncertainty that said ; " What I am now I know, 
 concerning the future I can only believe ; and 
 belief can never possess the certainty of knowl- 
 edge," and adopt the inspired language of him 
 who declared : " I know that my Redeemer liv- 
 eth, and though after my skin, worms destroy 
 this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." The 
 faith of the most enlightened heathen was but 
 opinion, the belief of darkened Reason ; in the 
 Christian it is certainty. Neither Plato nor 
 Socrates, though full of ardent desires after im- 
 mortality, could penetrate beyond the veil that 
 hangs between the living and the dead : Reve- 
 lation alone can raise the curtain. Life and 
 immortality have been brought to light in the 
 
46 EXALTED NATURE AND 
 
 Gospel. To this Gospel, my dear young friends, 
 do I counsel you to cling, and when death shall 
 roll its floods around you, the hope that it con- 
 tains shall be the Rock of your salvation. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 EXALTED NATURE AND DESTINATION OF THE SOUL. ■ 
 
 The assurance of immortality brought to us 
 in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, comes with trans- 
 porting evidence to the mind of the believer in 
 this revelation. He can say, " For I know that 
 if my earthly house of this tabernacle were dis- 
 solved, I have a building of God, an house not 
 made with hands eternal in the heavens." The 
 desire to put off this mortal part in which he is 
 burdened with pains and sorrows, accompanies 
 this belief. He even " longs to be unclothed" 
 of the flesh that he " may be clothed" with im- 
 mortality, and " swallowed up" or " bathed 
 in life." He rejoices in the prospect of a hab- 
 itation "where God shall wipe away all tears 
 from his eyes," where there shall be " no 
 night," "neither the light "oft obscured," of the 
 sun," for "the Lord God giveth " to the inhab- 
 itants of that blessed abode, "light" immediately 
 from the Fount of Light ; where " having over- 
 
DESTINATION OF THE SOUL. 47 
 
 come," they shall inherit all things with the title 
 and privilege of Sons of God. 
 
 Every thing within us and around us proves 
 our immortal and high destiny. We find upon 
 the examination of ourselves that we are reason- 
 able, sensitive, intellectual, social and moral 
 beings. We know that God has thus made us, 
 and as He makes nothing in vain, we cannot 
 doubt that some important purpose is attached 
 to our existence. Every flower that blooms in 
 the meadow, every leaf that moves in the forest, 
 every insect that sports in the sunbeams, pro- 
 claims the glory of its Creator ; how then can 
 it be supposed that we are made for a lower 
 purpose ! Our animal nature fearfully and won- 
 derfully framed, is fitted by its organic structure 
 to enjoy all the lower delights of our own beau- 
 tiful earth, and in the proper enjoyment, its full 
 purpose seems to be answered, • and thus the 
 Creator glorified. 
 
 The powers of the soul, infinitely surpassing 
 those of the body, afford strong grounds for the 
 belief that the destination of the immaterial part 
 is not intended to be this earth. Resembling its 
 Creator, the mind is capable of discovering rela- 
 tions natural and moral; it examines the present 
 by means of its perceptions, by memory it looks 
 back upon the past, by imagination into the fu- 
 ture. How wondrous in conception ! Fitted 
 
48 EXALTED NATURE AND 
 
 to understand the nature and the relations of 
 surrounding objects, now it penetrates to the 
 recesses of the earth, and it brings to the light 
 its hidden treasures ; again, the mind stretches 
 itself to the vast proportions, not only of our 
 globe, but it takes measure of the worlds that 
 roll in space around us, and even draws down 
 lightning from the very heavens, rendering it 
 harmless. 
 
 How unwearied in industry, how godlike in 
 invention and skill ! The whole earth is so 
 filled with the labours of man, that it seems like 
 a new creation. Desolate regions have become 
 fertile plains. Where the forest oak towered in 
 its loveliness, there arises the fane and the spire, 
 and multitudes gather for pleasure, for business 
 or for devotion around the lofty edifices. Waters 
 have changed their courses and their natural 
 uses. Now do they float^through the once soli- 
 tary forest the freighted bark, now propel with 
 unthought-of speed the loaded carriage. In 
 vain has the globe been divided into different 
 portions, by a mighty mass of waters ; man has 
 become lord of the ocean, and traverses from 
 continent to continent more easily than the in- 
 habitant of the air. Accelerated motion has 
 nearly annihilated space, and more than doubled 
 life or time to man. 
 
 In the arts that contribute to the convenience 
 
DESTINATION OF THE SOUL. 49 
 
 and enjoyments of life, we see further instances 
 of the power of mind, almost creative. By 
 means of the spindle, the loom and the needle, 
 the human frame is arrayed with a covering, the 
 tribute gathered from animal tribes, emulating in 
 richness and brilliancy, the rainbow tints of the 
 tulip, or snowy and delicate as the plumage of 
 the dove. Not satisfied with the power of vision 
 given to the eye, one instrument must be in- 
 vented to help it to reach those orbs that other- 
 wise invisibly revolve in the regions of space ; 
 another to assist it to penetrate into the minute 
 recesses of creation. By means of the telescope, 
 the laws which govern the planetary system are 
 discovered ; with the assistance of the micros- 
 cope, kingdoms of insect tribes upon a rose-leaf 
 are detected. Invention disdaining this earth 
 as too small a sphere for its remaining labours, 
 seeks -a trackless pathway in aerial regions. The 
 mind aspires to range in unbounded territories, 
 fully indicating eternal existence in a world 
 suited to powers so wonderful.* 
 
 Considering this godlike creature in his state 
 of infancy here, how poor are our conceptions 
 of what he will be when he shall have time 
 immeasurable, and opportunity, unimpeded by 
 adverse circumstances, to progress towards per- 
 fection ! 
 
 * Note B. ~~~ 
 
50 EXALTED NATURE AND 
 
 The passions of man mark the boundless na- 
 ture of the soul. His desires, ever springing 
 up, are ever insatiable. He is restlessly eager 
 for more enjoyment, more treasure, more of every 
 thing that he possesses. No sooner is one object 
 obtained, than he forgets it in his desire to pos- 
 sess another. The miser hides his hard-earned 
 gold, no better to him than pebbles, while his 
 unceasing toil is for more. One victory obtained, 
 the conqueror leaving all behind, presses on to 
 new fields of action and of glory. Pyrrhus, in 
 anticipating the conquest of Italy, thought not 
 of rest until Sicily and Carthage, Africa and 
 Macedonia, should be added to his victories ; 
 death found him, before ambition would suffer 
 him to rest. The earth itself sufficed not to fill 
 the desires of Alexander the Great. His de- 
 spairing ambition, unable to reach the height of 
 Olympian Jupiter, cast down the mighty con- 
 queror to grovel with the brute. 
 
 These aspirings of the soul, and its restless 
 dissatisfaction, show it to be destined for a sphere 
 of action more enlarged, for actions more ele- 
 vated, than any that human affairs can furnish. 
 And in direct proof of this, it might be urged 
 that no desire of the soul is ever satisfied, unless 
 it has the great Creator for its object. It is filled 
 and quiet only in contemplation of unbounded 
 existence and pleasures forever more. Here it 
 
DESTINATION OP THE SOUL. 51 
 
 is, that Reason, which distinguishes man from 
 all animated existence, is completely satisfied. 
 Reason in its continual search for truth, can rest 
 in nothing short of Truth Eternal. 
 
 That happiness was one purpose to be an- 
 swered in the formation of man, is very appa- 
 rent, from his constitution, both of body and 
 mind, as well as from the adaptation of exter- 
 nal objects to his constitution. 
 
 The animal senses furnish him, in their mod- 
 erate gratification, continual enjoyment. The 
 lowest, those of feeling, taste and smell, find 
 in nature a multitude of objects affording agree- 
 able sensations. The smoothness, softness and 
 fineness of many bodies, the delicious taste of 
 fruits and vegetables, the fragrance of flowers 
 are among the lowest pleasures of sensitive be- 
 ings ; but so eqxuisite are they in their kind that 
 many an immortal mind rests satisfied in the 
 enjoyment. The senses of sight and hearing 
 are connected with the emotions of taste. The 
 whole visible creation is filled with beauty, and 
 the human eye is formed to take it in, so con- 
 necting it with the mind, as to furnish a source 
 of wonderful delight. 
 
 The variety of objects with which the earth 
 abounds, and their qualities, give continual ex- 
 ercise to the enquiring intellect ; furnishing such 
 rich sources of knowledge and scope for inven- 
 
52 EXALTED NATURE AND 
 
 tion, as to afford perpetual enjoyment to the 
 mental faculties. But in man's social nature 
 are his qualifications for happiness more appa- 
 rent. How bountiful is the provision made for 
 the ' ' feast of reason and the flow of soul" ! What 
 a multitude of delightful ties bind together the 
 vast family of man ! What fond affections cir- 
 culate through all, the social life, uniting heart 
 to heart ! " God is love," and by this bond has 
 He connected the whole rational creation. Not 
 only does this love shine forth in the abundant 
 sources of happiness provided for man in this 
 life, but we are assured in the Sacred .Scrip- 
 tures, that " God so loved the world that He 
 gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever be- 
 lieveth in Him should have eternal life." What 
 mind can conceive the bliss of those, who, capa- 
 ble of such enjoyment here, where they are im- 
 perfect in themselves, and where imperfection 
 is stamped on all around them, shall find them- 
 selves transported to a place, expressly prepared 
 for the perfection of their natures. How will 
 the beauties of earth fade away in the glories of 
 Heaven ! 
 
 In connection with this branch of our subject, 
 another point, and one of great importance, re- 
 mains to be considered. That our nature is 
 susceptible of high enjojnnents, has been proved ; 
 that it is capable of great misery, we must also 
 
DESTINATION OF THE SOUL. 53 
 
 acknowledge. The pleasures of life are bal- 
 anced by its pains. The senses that afford such 
 a rich variety of delights, are also the occasion 
 of exquisite torment. Wholesome and pleasant 
 food is agreeable to the palate ; but nauseous 
 and bitter drugs are disagreeable. The sensa- 
 tions of touch or feeling are pleasant ; but how 
 do these pleasures compare with the tortures of 
 the rack, or the distress of a broken bone ? If 
 beauty in objects create in us emotions of 
 pleasure, so does deformity give pain. If the 
 strains of harmony give transport to the musical 
 ear, the jarring of discords to it is intolerable. 
 
 Labour, so essential to enjoyment, whether 
 bodily or mental, is attended by weariness or 
 fatigue ; frequently by pain and ill health, that 
 much diminish the satisfaction and hinder the 
 advancement of knowledge. The affections of 
 the soul, such abounding springs of joy, often 
 flow out in streams of bitter sorrow. 
 
 These facts, and others of like nature, prove, 
 that the soul, in its connection with the body, is 
 capable of misery, as well as of happiness. But 
 not in this relation alone does it endure pain, in 
 its independent, spiritual state, do we find its 
 severest sufferings. Not to speak of the num- 
 berless and nameless woes endured by wounded 
 feeling, it is sufficient to remark the pangs that 
 guilt, ever so much hidden from the observing 
 
54 EXALTED NATURE AND 
 
 eye of our fellows, will bring upon the soul. So 
 insufferable, sometimes, is this torment, that the 
 mortal part sinks beneath the dreadful anguish, 
 while the spirit, in utter despair of relief, seeks, 
 if this may be, to find annihilation in death ; or 
 rather, it recoils in fearful agony, from the ap- 
 proach of the stroke that will launch it into an- 
 other state of existence. 
 
 If the happiness enjoyed by the mind here, 
 argues its capability of enjoying happiness here- 
 after, the same argument will hold good of its 
 capability of enduring misery hereafter. As it 
 may continue to enjoy, so it may continue to 
 suffer ; for all the states of the soul are onward 
 and progressive. Further, should the body and 
 soul after their separation, ever be, as we are 
 assured in Scripture, re-unitecl, we can easily 
 conceive, and are now prepared to believe, that 
 this union will wonderfully increase the happi- 
 ness or misery of a future state. Again, the 
 moral power or perception of the soul, by which 
 its own actions are scrutinized, by which appro- 
 bation of a right action, disapprobation of a 
 wrong one, is immediately expressed ; this ex- 
 pression, carrying with it punishment in one 
 case, reward in the other, shows a judgment 
 begun in this state of existence, and argues, a 
 judgment to be expected in the state to which 
 it hastens. Of this fact, we are also assured in 
 
DESTINATION OF THE SOUL. 55 
 
 that Holy Word upon which we found our belief 
 of all that relates to ourselves, as moral and 
 accountable creatures. 
 
 The soul, " a dim miniature" of its Creator, 
 " a beam etherial, though sullied and dishon- 
 oured, still divine ;" doubtless, had its existence, 
 for no other purpose than to give another exhi- 
 bition of the glory of Him, who has made all 
 things for Himself. Standing as we do in relation 
 to innumerable creatures above and below us, 
 
 "Distinguish'd link in being's eDdless chain, 
 Midway from nothing to the Deity," 
 
 well may we tremble at ourselves. " Who can 
 tell, how fearful may be the judgment, passed 
 upon a noble nature, debased to low and vicious 
 purposes ; upon intellect, high and God-like, 
 wasted in indolence, or squandered upon trifles. 
 My young friends, let this subject teach you 
 wisdom. The reason that, elevates you above 
 brutes, bringing you near to angelic natures, 
 should teach you so to live, that when the sen- 
 sitive, mortal part, returns to the dust whence it 
 springs, the intellectual, immortal spirit may 
 rise to life eternal. 
 
PART II. 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 MIND INDIVISIBLE AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 
 
 We have, my dear young friends, arrived at 
 the conclusion that the soul exists ; that it is in- 
 dependent of the body, immortal, and destined 
 to a state far more exalted than the one it now 
 occupies, with the prospect that it must shortly 
 leave its present habitation. Our next enquiry 
 is momentous. Can we so understand the na- 
 ture and operations of mind, that such knowl- 
 edge may conduce to our happiness here and 
 hereafter ? 
 
 On every side we are surrounded by material 
 objects, and we find ourselves so drawn to them, 
 that the conviction comes forcibly to us, we are, 
 that is, the mind is, closely allied to things ex- 
 ternal. The azure sky and the green earth, the 
 song of birds and the fragrance of flowers, fill 
 us with delight. A curious shell, an unknown 
 animal, attract our observation and draw forth 
 enquiries. Objects when removed from our 
 sight recur again to our minds, they exist within 
 
58 MIND INDIVISIBLE 
 
 us, and are recalled at pleasure, or by associa- 
 ting circumstances. The mind acts upon out- 
 ward objects ; it perceives their relations, it 
 combines, compares, analyzes, and classes them ; 
 and selects or chooses among them, often with 
 strong desire. 
 
 Not only upon material objects does the mind 
 act, but upon immaterial ; it retires within itself 
 and views its own operations, and mind unites 
 itself with mind, by cognizance, by sympathy, 
 by feeling, lasting as life itself, and stronger 
 than the love of life. But further ; as it perceives 
 beauty and deformity in material objects, so does 
 the intellect perceive beauty and deformity in 
 objects that are immaterial. Actions bring out 
 in legible characters mental qualities, and thus 
 do we appreciate each other ; we perceive with 
 pleasure the colours and fragrance of a rose ; in 
 a manner, different indeed, but not less strongly, 
 do we find satisfaction from the contemplation 
 of benevolent actions in an individual. 
 , The mind also perceives cause and effect in 
 operations : it feels assured that the smallest 
 piece of machinery, a watch for instance, must 
 have been constructed and put in motion by 
 some forming hand ; also, if by the cause of 
 rain and sunshine, the simple herb springs up 
 from the ground, it at once acknowledges that 
 the rain and the sunshine are the effects of some 
 
AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 59 
 
 operating cause ; and it ascends from cause to 
 cause with the enquiry, whence came the glo- 
 rious luminary enlightening this lower world 
 with its beams, drawing from the bosom of the 
 ocean which surrounds the globe, the vapours 
 that again descend upon it in dews and rain, to 
 vivify its surface . ? The answer is heard within ; 
 from some Cause creating all. The mind then 
 turning its gaze upon itself, still more plainly 
 discovers that its own operations, so wonderful, 
 so complicated, and yet so simple, must be the 
 effect of an Intelligence, immeasurably superior 
 to itself, and it strongly feels that upon this First 
 Great Cause, it exists, depends, and through 
 His permission operates, though- bearing evi- 
 dence in itself of the freedom and activity of 
 its own operations. Mounting from " earth to 
 heaven," it " bodies forth things unknown," it 
 chooses and refuses, desires, loves and hates ; 
 even controuls in a measure the poor body to 
 which it is attached, yet is there within, a voice, 
 that speaks its subjection — its accountability to 
 a higher Power. 
 
 Immaterial in its existence, and not discov- 
 erable in the same manner as the objects of sight 
 or touch by the senses, mind can only be known 
 through its own operations. The power which we 
 call caloric, electricity, magnetism, is not dis- 
 covered until some circumstance calls its forth. 
 
60 MIND INDIVISIBLE 
 
 The condensed rays of the sun will cause wood 
 to ignite, and flame is produced, showing that 
 the wood contained within itself some quality, 
 not discoverable, until heat was applied ; so fric- 
 tion will bring forth sparks from silk or woollen 
 garments, and a piece of iron may be made 
 to draw towards it needles and other objects. 
 This operating power in bodies is very different 
 from the properties of form, colour and density, 
 and can be discoverable only in its effects ; that 
 is, in flame, in sparks of light, in streams of 
 electrical fluid, in attraction or repulsion. So 
 the mind, inhabiting a corporeal frame, is known 
 only by the operations, which, through it, ' the 
 body is made to perform. 
 
 Bodies have parts, and these parts may be 
 divided and subdivided to infinitude, but the 
 soul or mind has no parts, it knows, feels, wills 
 and reasons ; and these faculties are all con- 
 cerned in its operations, perhaps constitute all 
 that we can at present know of the soul. This 
 we may call its nature, that is, its inherent prop- 
 erties, independent of circumstance or habit. It 
 is the nature of plants to grow, of animals to 
 move, of the sun to emit light ; in like manner 
 is it the nature of the mind to perceive, to re- 
 member, to reason, to desire and to act. 
 
 Connected in some mysterious way with the 
 body, the mind through it performs its own ope- 
 
AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 61 
 
 rations, and by its means becomes acquainted 
 with all material things. How far the percep- 
 tions of the senses may be necessary to cause 
 action in the mind, cannot perhaps be determined, 
 as we have not upon record any case where they 
 have been wholly wanting to an individual ; but, 
 that they are necessary to introduce it to a 
 certain portion of knowledge, to motion and to 
 action; is very evident. Whether they are 
 necessary for the continuance of this knowl- 
 edge, is another consideration. . When the 
 powers of outward perception fail, the mind 
 continues its action ; feeling, memory and rea- 
 son are in powerful operation as long as life 
 continues in the vital organs, and how are we 
 sure that they need these organs ? 
 
 We know not what part of the body the 
 soul inhabits, or how far the senses are neces- 
 sary to its operations. These are among the 
 mysteries of nature that probably will never be 
 unfolded ; our wisdom appears in not permit- 
 ting ourselves to be troubled by such conceal- 
 ments, for of this we may rest assured, that 
 there are many things in the counsels of the 
 Almighty from which we are excluded, but the 
 knowledge necessary to the happiness of His 
 creatures here and hereafter, will the merciful 
 Father of Spirits fully reveal. 
 
 That the mind has knowledge independent of 
 
62 MIND INDIVISIBLE 
 
 the senses is a matter of experience, though a 
 point that has been disputed by writers on this 
 branch of science. Cousin, in his Introduction 
 to the History of Philosophy says, " It has been 
 proved that the phenomena of sense furnish us 
 only with ideas of a fortuitous conjunction, or 
 accidental connection : we see, for instance, a 
 ball which is in motion immediately after being 
 struck by another ball, a motion succeeds this, I. 
 and then another motion. The relation of cause 
 and effect is there, but it is not the senses which 
 discover its presence ; it is the. mind. The re- 
 lation of equality cannot be perceived by the \ 
 senses and the imagination, because it is invis- 
 ible, intangible. It is the mind which either 
 knows or is ignorant of this relation, because it 
 is the mind which is endowed with the faculty 
 of perceiving numbers.* 
 
 Dugald Stewart imagines the case of a per- 
 son possessed of but two senses, hearing and 
 smelling. Supposing that without having a 
 communication with other beings, these senses 
 brought objects to his mind ; he would acquire 
 the knowledge of two facts independent of the 
 objects, that of the existence of the sensation, 
 and that of his own existence as a sentient be- 
 ing. After this he could remember the sensa- 
 tion and could conceive that he feels it again ; 
 
 * Note C. 
 
AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 63 
 
 he might desire the return, if agreeable, and 
 fear it if disagreeable. He might also compare 
 the different sensations, or if they came together, 
 attend to one and dismiss the other. In this 
 manner would the mind of this two-sense being 
 go through all the operations belonging to mind, 
 without the perceptions brought by the other 
 senses, and arrive at the conclusion of his own 
 intelligent existence. He would also acquire 
 the ideas of number by the recurrence of the 
 sensations, of time and duration by the interval 
 between them, of cause and effect ; the objects 
 being the cause, the sensations the effect ; and 
 of his own identity, or the continuance of his 
 being. 
 
 Did all our knowledge depend upon our senses, 
 we could know nothing of ourselves ; for which 
 sense reveals to us what passes within our own 
 minds ? The senses of sight and of hearing 
 show to us by means of the external signs of 
 countenance and of speech what passes in the 
 minds of others, but does the eye or the ear 
 discover to any one his own thoughts or feelings ? 
 is there not an internal sense that shows him to 
 himself ? Nor could we by means of any of the 
 senses arrive at the conception of that Infinite 
 Being, we call God. For who hath at any time 
 seen the Invisible One ? Reason may conceive 
 His existence, and indeed knows not how to 
 
64 MIND INDIVISIBLE 
 
 conceive of the existence of man without Him, 
 the great Cause, the Father of Spirits ; but reason 
 is not the eye, the ear, nor any other sensible or- 
 gan. Still more, to have faith in revelation, some 
 other operation of mind is necessary, beside the 
 operations produced by the senses alone.* Rea- 
 son proclaims its own independence of matter, 
 and faith claims for the soul, a life higher than the 
 animal, breathed by God himself, when " man 
 became a living soul." 
 
 Two remarkable cases of activity in the men- 
 tal powers, unassisted by the senses of sight 
 and hearing, present themselves, as extracted 
 from the Reports of the Hartford Asylum of 
 the deaf and dumb, and from the Institution 
 of the Blind. Julia Brace, who is now thirty 
 years of age, lost her sight and hearing at the 
 age of four and a half years, and had been in 
 the Asylum for the last twelve years when the 
 report was made. She performs with great 
 accuracy many of the common labours of life, 
 sews with neatness, knits, and shapes the stock- 
 ing very exactly. She irons slowly but well, 
 and her discriminating power is so great, that 
 she is able to select the articles of clothing be- 
 longing to any member of the Institution ; this 
 
 * The reader is referred to Cousin's Elements of Psych- 
 ology. Critical examination of Locke on Human Under- 
 standing : Chap. 6. 
 
AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 65 
 
 she does mostly by smell, when the linen is 
 clean, and is rarely mistaken in any article, 
 never in her own clothins:. 
 
 Several deaths have occurred in the Asylum 
 since her admittance ; from the first she undoubt- 
 edly obtained her ideas, whatever they were, of 
 so great a change as death. She satisfied her- 
 self that the body was incapable of motion and 
 had ceased to breathe, and seemed filled with 
 horror. When such cases have occurred since, 
 she makes signs for death and expresses sorrow. 
 On the Sabbath, Julia dresses herself in her 
 best clothing, and taking her rocking-chair, be- 
 gins the observance of the day by abstaining 
 from all her customary employments. In this 
 she never fails. When permitted to visit home 
 and spend some days with her mother, she can- 
 not be prevailed on to remain longer than Sat- 
 urday afternoon. What her reason is, cannot 
 be ascertained, unless it be to enjoy the quiet 
 and rest of her rocking-chair and chamber, 
 where she is sure of not being disturbed. An 
 effort has been made to instruct her in the knowl- 
 edge of God, but it does not appear to have 
 been successful. 
 
 The case of Laura Bridgman is still more 
 interesting. This little girl is eight years of 
 age, and had been an inmate in the Institution 
 for the Blind about four months when the report 
 
• 
 
 66 MIND INDIVISIBLE 
 
 was made. She has been from her infancy? 
 blind, deaf and dumb, and deprived almost en- 
 tirely of the sense of smell. With all this, she 
 is as active, as Ml of frolic and play as other 
 children. She knows every inmate of the house 
 by touch, and is remarkably affectionate. She 
 can sew, knit and braid, as expertly as any of 
 the children ; always behaves with propriety, 
 has a sense of property, a love of approbation, 
 a desire to appear neatly dressed, and to have 
 others notice it. She will not retain any thing 
 belonging to another, nor eat an apple, or piece 
 of cake that is not given her. She has also a 
 pleasure in playfully teasing and puzzling others. 
 The different states of her mind are clearly 
 marked on her countenance, which shows hope 
 and fear, pleasure and pain, self-approbation 
 and regret ; and which, when she is trying to 
 study out any thing, assumes an expression of 
 intense attention and thought. 
 
 The Report proceeds to state the manner in 
 which Laura is taught to read, and in this her 
 aptness is wonderful. Her manner with her 
 teacher is thus described ;" " Her teacher gives 
 her a new subject, for instance a pencil, first 
 lets her examine it and get an idea of its use, 
 then teaches her to spell it, by making her signs 
 of the manual alphabet, with her own fingers. 
 The child grasps her hand and feels her fingers, 
 
AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 67 
 
 as the different letters are formed, her head 
 inclines on one side as if intensely listening, 
 her lips apart, she seems scarcely to breathe ; 
 and her countenance at first anxious, gradually 
 changes to a smile as she comprehends the les- 
 son. She then holds up her little fingers and 
 spells the word in the manual alphabet, next 
 takes her types and arranges the letters, and 
 then to make sure that she is right, she takes the 
 whole of the types composing the word, and 
 places them in contact with the pencil, or what- 
 ever the object may be." 
 
 Some very interesting remarks may be drawn 
 from the accounts of these two females. Julia 
 Brace not only learned to work, but all her labour 
 shewed that care and neatness which is the re- 
 sult of pure mental operation, attention. The 
 senses had little to do in it. For this she was 
 remarkable, as we learn from the circumstance 
 of her being able to distinguish, by smell alone, 
 between every article of apparel in the wash- 
 room, and from the notice she takes of the days 
 of the week that brought about the Sabbath sea- 
 son of rest. This she undoubtedly enjoyed, as 
 nothing could turn her from it, not even the priv- 
 ilege of remaining with her mother. 
 
 But there is a striking difference between the 
 case of Julia Brace and that of Laura Bridg- 
 man. This child with one sense less than Julia, 
 
68 MIND INDIVISIBLE 
 
 is wonderfully more intellectual. Julia, now 
 thirty, has been in the Asylum twelve years, 
 and has never, with all the instruction bestowed 
 upon her, " attained a knowledge of the signs 
 significant of objects," while Laura, in four 
 months, has already learned, not only all the 
 letters of the alphabet by the sense of feeling, 
 but knows how to put them together, so as to 
 form the names of common objects, and that 
 under standingly. In this last case, we see not 
 only the exercise of attention, but a conception 
 that appears to be wanting in the other, marking 
 an original difference in mind. Julia shews 
 much love of self, and a petulance not noticed 
 in the little girl. Of this, an anecdote was rela- 
 ted, that fell under the observation of a lady 
 who visited the Asylum. Two worked capes 
 were given, one to Julia, another to one of her 
 companions. Julia took in her hand the cape 
 belonging to the other, and after comparing the 
 two, perceived that hers had less work upon it 
 than the other cape, whereupon she threw it 
 down and stamped on it. Laura's mental per- 
 ceptions seem much more delicate, and more 
 acute, as noticed in her sense of propriety, her 
 desire of approbation, and her playful humour ; 
 not even would her appetite tempt her to take 
 that which she knew did not belong to her. The 
 intense application of her mind, when any thing 
 
AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 69 ^ 
 
 is to be learned, is seen in her listening attitude, 
 her anxious look, and her intelligent smile, when 
 she understands what is explained to her. In 
 Julia Brace, this intellectual perception is not 
 so noticeable, since it has been thought impos- 
 sible to draw her attention to reasonings on 
 moral or spiritual subjects. Nor is this original 
 difference of mind in persons who enjoy the full 
 exercise of all the senses, a circumstance un- 
 known, especially to those who have devoted 
 themselves to the education of youth. Some, 
 and those too, expert and ingenious at manual 
 labour, are slow in the exercise of the mental 
 powers and unwilling to make the effort, and 
 multitudes who are neither blind, deaf or dumb, 
 are utterly unwilling to have their attention 
 drawn to moral or spiritual subjects. 
 
 Laura Bridgman with the use of but two 
 senses, and those among the lowest order be- 
 longing to our nature, shews more quickness in 
 the intellectual perception, and greater mental 
 power, than is commonly found among children, 
 who have the full use of all their senses. Nor 
 is this the only instance of such wonderful ac- 
 tivity and energy, in mental operations, without 
 the co-operation of the senses of sight and hearing, 
 which more than any others, furnish the mind 
 with ideas. Upham mentions the interesting 
 case of a boy in Scotland, James Mitchel, who 
 
70 MIND INDIVISIBLE 
 
 was blind and deaf, consequently dumb, from 
 his birth. His desire after knowledge was great 
 and ardent, and many curious instances are 
 given, of his perseverance, by the sense of 
 touch, in the examination of the objects within 
 his reach. This desire was so great that he 
 became acquainted with the use of all common 
 things. He knew strangers by the smell, and 
 distinguished one visitor from another, by the 
 touch. He made known his wants and inten- 
 tions by signs. The following is an instance of 
 the strength of his social feelings. A pair of 
 shoes being brought to him, were found too 
 small, upon which his mother put them away 
 in a closet, that she kept locked. James one 
 day procured the key of this closet, opened the 
 door, took out the shoes and put them upon a 
 boy who waited on him, but smaller than him- 
 self, whom thev fitted. He never carried anv 
 thing from houses where he visited, though 
 allowed to handle whatever he wished. When 
 he had done wrong, and was made sensible of 
 it by gentle means, he shewed sorrow, but if 
 harshly treated, he was irritated. At the death 
 of his father, he exhibited his grief in a very 
 affecting manner ; and three months after his 
 death, a clergyman being in the house, on a 
 Sunday evening, he pointed to his father's Bible 
 and then made a sign that the family should kneel. 
 
AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 71 
 
 In this account, long and extraordinary as it 
 is, we are told by the author, that the knowledge 
 of this youth, was limited almost wholly to 
 matter, and that, as it was very imperfectly 
 represented by the three senses. How won- 
 derfully acute then, must be the perceptions of 
 the soul, that could lead this poor boy to " ex- 
 plore the ground, inch by inch, upon his hands 
 and knees, for miles in search of objects on 
 which to exercise thought ; examining, not only 
 men, but animals, and every object within his 
 reach ; standing by the side of shoemakers, tai- 
 lors, and bricklayers, intently curious to know 
 the mode and result of their labours." 
 
 We are expressly told by Upham in the course 
 of the above relation, that deaf and dumb 
 persons, generally have no idea of God, till it 
 is taught them, and it is not probable, with all 
 that is said of Mitchell, that he had any " notion 
 of a God and of accountability- to Him." Oh 
 who can enter into the inaccessible mind, inac- 
 cessible, because speech is denied it, and trace 
 out the hidden springs of action and of feeling? 
 What prompted this youth to benevolent and to 
 honourable actions ? What taught him to weep 
 over his father's grave, to refuse to lie upon the 
 bed on which his parent expired, and to shew 
 signs of fear when sick himself? In his inquis- 
 itive and reasoning mind, are we sure there ex- 
 
72 MIND INDIVISIBLE 
 
 isted no enquiries like these? — What am I in 
 creation ? These hands, these feet are not the 
 parts that desire to know. There are persons 
 that I love, — what loves them ? my hands ? no, 
 but something within, that I cannot touch. Who 
 is she, upon whose bosom my head often reposes, 
 and that other gentle one, who cares for me so 
 tenderly ? What relation is there that causes 
 me to love them, and they to love me, more 
 than the other beings whom I feel about me ? 
 Wiry does not my mother's horse make such 
 garments as clothe my body, or shoes for my 
 feet f There is some difference between him 
 and others, — somebody made every thing I use, 
 or touch ; who made me ? I do not remember 
 to have been made. Why did they put my 
 father under the ground ? He was cold and 
 motionless, he answered me not when I em- 
 braced him. The part that moved is gone. 
 What is that part ? and shall that part of me go 
 also ? Where will it go ? Who made it ? My 
 father reads from a book he regards more than 
 any other, and then all bend clown in reverence 
 before some Being I cannot touch. Who is this 
 Being, greater than my father ? I reverence 
 my father ; is this Being the Father of us all ? 
 Did He make us ! I obey my father, must we 
 all obey Him ? 
 
 Words are here given to the reasonings of the 
 
AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 73 
 
 speechless intellect, but should sound be restored 
 to the mind, and with it speech, how long would 
 it be before language could be made to express 
 to others the outlines of the long pent-up thought, 
 much less its shades and colourings ! We can- 
 not certainly say, that He who created the soul 
 in His own image, and as a circumstance of its 
 being, united it with the body, has made it so 
 entirely dependent upon the body, that without 
 it, the soul could not come at the knowledge of 
 its own existence, or the existence of its Crea- 
 tor. We know that a time will come when it 
 shall exist without the body, and shall see His 
 face, without need of the light of the sun ; for 
 He who is Light itself, shall give them light. 
 
 The following lines on Laura Bridgman, beau- 
 tifully express what may be safely conjectured 
 on this very interesting part of our subject : 
 
 Say, lurks there not some beam from heaven 
 
 Amid the bosom's night, 
 
 Some echo from a better land 
 
 To make thy smile so bright ? 
 
 There's many a lamp in Greenland's cell 
 
 Deep 'neath a world of snow, 
 
 That cheers the lonely household group, 
 
 Though none beside may know : 
 
 And doth not God, our Father's hand, 
 
 Light in thy cloister dim, 
 
 A hidden and peculiar lamp, 
 
 To guide thy steps to Him? 
 
 Mrs. Sigournejt. 
 
74 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND AND ITS CAPABILITY 
 OF KNOWING. 
 
 In presenting this subject to you, it is my de- 
 sign, not in strictness to follow any one theory, 
 as we find it laid down in the works of philoso- 
 phers, but simply to search for the operations of 
 the soul as we perceive them exhibited in the 
 history of mankind, and more especially as we 
 find them within ourselves. Let us seek to un- 
 derstand what we can of the origin of thought, 
 while we learn to combine, to arrange and to 
 guard it properly. L et us enquire into the springs 
 of action within us, and seek to know how these 
 may be so controlled and directed, that all the 
 movements of the soul may harmonize with the 
 will of Him, in whom all its " springs" should be. 
 
 May this investigation of the mental powers, 
 assist you, young ladies, in forming a true esti- 
 mate of the abilities you possess to direct your 
 thoughts to important objects, and so to govern 
 your words and actions, as that through Divine 
 Grace, your characters maybe formed to "what- 
 soever things are true, whatsoever things are 
 just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever 
 things are lovely." 
 
 Properly to employ the powers or faculties 
 
AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 75 
 
 with which by nature we are provided, is, or 
 should be, our great object ; and to exam- 
 ine our own resources, will be the first step in 
 our endeavour to use them profitably. In this, 
 reason, assisted by experience, and enlightened 
 by Revelation, must be our guide. Should you 
 desire to become acquainted with the construc- 
 tion of a watch, you would take it in pieces, you 
 would separately examine how each part is 
 made, how one part acts upon another, how the 
 movement communicated by a spring, passes 
 from wheel to wheel, to the hand, or index which 
 points the hour. Thus with the mind. To gain 
 a knowledge of ourselves we must examine or 
 analyze what passes within us, for in this way 
 only, can we come at a correct understanding of 
 the science of mind, and thus may rules be es- 
 tablished to guide our practice. 
 
 The body is made up of parts, and distinct 
 actions belong to every organ. In walking, the 
 muscles which move the limbs are the acting 
 power ; in writing, those which move the hand 
 and arm ; in seeing, the eye alone is employed ; 
 in hearing, the ear. But the mind has no parts, 
 it is one, indivisible ; having the power or abil- 
 ity, to know, to feel, to reason, and to act ; the 
 body with which it is connected, being the agent 
 by which it exhibits all these operations. The 
 infant opens his eyes, and soon the light attracts 
 
76 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 
 
 him, a sudden sound startles him ; this is the 
 first expression of the intelligence and emotions 
 of the mind. Now he seeks the light and smiles 
 indicate his pleasure. Objects, motion and 
 sounds engage his attention, quiet his restless- 
 ness and often soothe him to repose. The mind 
 feels, or is moved as soon as it perceives. A 
 few months more and the infant knows his 
 mother or his nurse ; he distinguishes her from 
 others, and remembers the object of his special 
 attention. He also knows the persons with 
 whom he is constantly conversant, all of whom 
 he remembers, and towards these objects are 
 his feelings strongly drawn ; he would utter 
 cries should he be resigned to the arms of a 
 stranger, though the appearance of the stranger 
 is very like that of his own friends. These ac- 
 tions show in the mind a capability of comparing 
 objects, of understanding relations, of retaining 
 knowledge, and of feeling a preference. 
 
 As the mind of the child developes itself, he 
 seeks variety in his playthings ; they soon tire 
 and he turns away in distaste, but a new one, 
 will for a while, quiet his loudest cries. Glaring 
 colours, noisy sounds, odd figures, attract his 
 attention, and motion above all gives him plea- 
 sure. The refusal of any object that thus ex- 
 cites him, will rouse his anger and draw forth 
 passionate cries. Here we discern the germ of 
 
AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 77 
 
 emotions, desires, passions and will. In a year 
 or two the mental powers become more devel- 
 oped. When objects are presented to the child 
 he compares and decides with preference be- 
 tween them, and soon he learns to distinguish 
 the things that belong to him, from those which 
 do not. He also learns that there are certain 
 things which he must not touch ; experience 
 teaches him that the flame of a candle will burn 
 his fingers, also, that his father will not allow 
 him to play with the book he is reading ; but 
 that his mother during the absence of the father 
 will let him look at it, and the child acts in ac- 
 cordance. In the presence of one parent he 
 offers not to touch an object which he impera- 
 tively demands when alone with her, of the 
 other. Here is the exercise of reasoning and 
 of will. 
 
 The association of qualities with objects to 
 which they do not really belong, is awakened 
 in children at an early age by others, sometimes 
 to quiet, sometimes to amuse them. The little 
 one is noisy or otherwise troublesome, and those 
 who have the care of him assure him, that if 
 he is not soon quiet, some ugly creature will be 
 called to carry him off; frequently an old man 
 or a dreadful beast. At other times, the child is 
 entertained with the story of a fairy who has 
 her palace in the clouds, or with the moving 
 
78 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 
 
 account of the burial of Cock Robin. Thus in 
 infancy is developed the power of combining 
 and forming from realities, ideas and associa- 
 tions which are unreal. 
 
 Perceptions of improprieties and wrong we 
 find to exist in the minds of young children : 
 witness in such, the anger and retaliation shewn 
 when offences are offered them, also the shame 
 and fear displayed when they themselves have 
 offended. Here is moral sense and conscience 
 developed. Lastly, the continual enquiry of 
 children, who made it ? what did it ? this 
 search after cause when effects are discovered, 
 amounting often to troublesome curiosity, clearly 
 shows that reason has commenced its operation. 
 
 Wherever there is life, there is a principle of 
 developement or growth. Thus in plants, from 
 the seed commences germination, and the sprout 
 in a suitable soil, with genial influences, grows 
 up to a tree bearing flowers and fruit. So does 
 the body develope itself; for with proper care 
 and nourishment, from a helpless nursling, will 
 it acquire the size and strength of a man. Thus 
 also the mind, from the first faint glimmerings 
 of reason, if carefully cultivated, will unfold its 
 powers, until it shines with brightness almost 
 celestial. 
 
 The plant has in its vegetable life all that is 
 necessary to its complete developement, so in 
 
AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 79 
 
 its animal life has the body, so has the soul in 
 its intellectual life. Plants and animals have 
 vessels fitted to receive nourishment, they all 
 have involuntary or organic action ; animals in 
 addition to this, possess the power to perform 
 voluntary actions, they eat, drink, or move about 
 at will. The soul has involuntary and volun- 
 tary action, it has intuition, as well as the power 
 to acquire and use knowledge. We perceive 
 vegetable life in the growth and fructification of 
 the plant. We perceive animal fife in the move- 
 ments of the body, intellectual fife in the ope- 
 rations of the mind in thought. 
 
 There is a power in the mind to perceive out- 
 ward objects in their form, size and colour ; 
 likewise to discover in those objects, qualities 
 more delicate than the common properties of 
 matter, such as sublimity, beauty, fitness, order. 
 The mind, or intellect, also discovers relations ; 
 body being given, space is immediately found 
 in connection, an effect being perceived, the 
 cause is sought. The properties that belong to 
 character are apprehended by the mind, such 
 as propriety, benevolence, truth, falsehood ; also 
 right and wrong in actions, such as justice and 
 injustice. When this perceptive power of the 
 mind is turned in upon itself, it discovers or 
 becomes conscious of the operations of thought, 
 and discerns the feelings and purposes of the soul. 
 
80 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 
 
 This power of perceiving or knowing is to the 
 mind what sight is to the eye ; it receives, or 
 regards every object, or subject that comes within 
 the reach of observation or of thought. It may 
 be called the " mind's eye." It is the Intelli- 
 gence of the rational soul. 
 
 " Ideas are thought in its natural form."* 
 They are the result of the operations of the mind, 
 either upon external objects, upon itself, or upon 
 necessary truth : they constitute its knowledge. 
 The mind acquires knowledge by its powers of 
 perceiving and of reasoning ; it preserves knowl- 
 edge by its power of retaining : it uses knowl- 
 edge by its ability to attend, to compare, to 
 analyze, to combine, to reason and to invent. 
 
 The mind cannot be said to have within itself 
 innate ideas, but it has intuition ; the power of - 
 knowing without the operation of reasoning. 
 Thus objects do not exist in the eye itself, nei- 
 ther do the images of them exist in the mind ; but 
 the eye having the faculty of sight, immediately 
 sees any object presented to it. So the mind, 
 though not furnished with original or innate ideas 
 of its own, yet has it the power of perceiving 
 objects brought in contact with any of the senses, 
 or truth addressed to the Reason. Light is not 
 the eye, it is light, and the eye sees it ; truth is 
 not the mind, it is truth, and the mind perceives 
 * Cousin. 
 
AND ITS CAPABILITY OP KNOWING. 81 
 
 it. External objects exist independently of the 
 eye ; but they present themselves to the sight, 
 and thus become objects of sensation, producing 
 ideas of external perception ; so truth exists in- 
 dependently of the mind, but it presents itself 
 to the intelligence, producing ideas of internal 
 perception. Here we have the foundation of 
 the principles of common sense and of intuitive 
 evidence. 
 
 Bodies appear in form, substance and colour 
 alike to all, because they are so ; for wherever 
 the senses are not disordered there is no dis- 
 pute about them. The qualities of beauty, sub- 
 limity, order and simplicity are real qualities, 
 and are perceived by the mind, to which they 
 in a greater or less degree communicate plea- 
 sure. In these instances we have the founda- 
 tion of Natural Science and Taste, and we per- 
 ceive them to be based upon truth, or what 
 approves itself to the common sense of man ; 
 for man being a rational creature, must perceive 
 truth. The science of mathematics is founded 
 on the relation of numbers and magnitude, alike 
 perceived by the understanding of the Asiatic, 
 the European and the American. The appro- 
 bation of truth, justice and benevolence, and the 
 disapprobation of falsehood, injustice and cru- 
 elty, have prevailed among the learned Greeks, 
 and the ignorant Barbarians ; among proud Phi- 
 
82 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 
 
 losophers, and humble Christians ; among all 
 nations, and in every age, because the moral 
 perception is the same in all. 
 
 To this perceptive power, probably may we 
 trace in part the diversity we remark in mind. 
 Continuing the analogy we have taken up be- 
 tween the eye and the mind, it will not be diffi- 
 cult to make this plain. The nature of the eye 
 is to see, but we know that all have not the 
 faculty of sight in equal perfection. Some are 
 short-sighted and to examine objects must ap- 
 proach near to them ; others see best when at a 
 distance. Some have such imperfect vision 
 that they cannot distinguish one colour from 
 another ; others do not see at all. Sight, when 
 imperfect may be so assisted, that with the arti- 
 ficial help of glasses a person whose eyes are 
 bad, may see objects more distinctly, than one 
 who has no natural defect in the organs of sight. 
 Another fact is worth notice, it is, that by atten- 
 tion and habit the sight is much strengthened 
 and improved. A painter will detect the smallest 
 defect in a picture, and a sailor will discover in 
 a speck, imperceptible to other eyes, the wel- 
 come approach to land. 
 
 The nature of the mind is to perceive, but 
 we notice a vast difference in the understanding 
 and mental operations of mankind. Some per- 
 sons are slow in perceiving the qualities or rela- 
 
AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 83 
 
 tions of objects, still slower in perceiving truth 
 abstract or moral ; others have a kind of quick- 
 ness, but their impressions are indistinct and 
 easily effaced. Some take a limited view of 
 things or subjects, and look at them in the detail ; 
 others have clear, vivid, and enlarged mental 
 perceptions, are able to examine objects and 
 subjects in the beauty of their minuteness and 
 in the sublimity of their extension. 
 
 To this original difference in mental percep- 
 tion may be added the still greater diverse- 
 caused by cultivation. This cultivation is in a 
 great measure, perhaps altogether, directed by 
 the will, the will being influenced by the desires 
 or affections of the soul. In childhood the ob- 
 jects of sense forcibly arrest the attention. If 
 the mother or teacher, who at this period has 
 the " moulding of mind" in her power, suffers 
 the stream of thought to flow out after the ob- 
 jects of pure sensation, if she turn not the cur- 
 rent to subjects of reflection, her young charge 
 will probably not do it, because the desires are 
 strongly drawn to whatever will gratify the ani- 
 mal appetites, or please the sensitive imagina- 
 tion. Thus is laid the foundation of a selfish 
 character, or what is nearly allied to it, the 
 sickly musings, or the wild wanderings of an 
 imaginative fancy. 
 
 In this examination of mind, as we see it 
 
84 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 
 
 develope itself in its first operations, we find 
 that feeling or emotion, accompanies its pri- 
 mary perceptions ; also that external objects 
 awaken its latent powers, and give it the first 
 impulse. As we continue the investigation, a 
 striking difference in the direction of the mind 
 to particular objects, is as apparent, as the dif- 
 ference we have already remarked in the men- 
 tal perceptions. Some minds are excited or 
 moved by a one class of objects, others by a dif- 
 ferent class. To explain this, let us look at a 
 family of children, brought up together under 
 the same parental care, with the same instruction ; 
 they are equally perfect in bodily organs, and 
 none apparently deficient in mental powers ; 
 but how different are they in pursuits and char- 
 acter. One child ardently loves pleasure, or 
 play, is boisterous and difficult to control ; an- 
 other is silent, reflective and obedient ; a third, 
 fiery in his temper and aspiring in his pursuits. 
 Other varieties may be observed among them : 
 one boy will occupy himself in the invention or 
 arrangement of some piece of mechanism, an- 
 other will annoy his friends with his violin or 
 flute, a third will retire to a corner Avith his 
 drawing, a fourth will be chasing butterflies or 
 collecting pebbles. 
 
 Margaret Duchess, of Newcastle, writes thus 
 of herself : " It pleased God to endue me with 
 
AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 85 
 
 a poetical and philosophical genius from my 
 birth, for I did write some books of that kind 
 before I was twelve years old, for want of good 
 method and order I never did divulge." Boc- 
 caccio says; " Before seven years of age, when 
 as yet I had met with no stories, was without a 
 master and hardly knew my letters, I had a 
 natural talent for fiction and produced some 
 tales." Descartes, when a boy was marked by 
 habits of deep meditation, and the father of 
 Nelson, declared that in " whatever station he 
 might be placed, he would if possible climb to 
 the top of the tree."* 
 
 Thus, we see, that nature, in many cases, 
 directs the mind by the emotions to some one 
 subject, and a difference is established that marks 
 the pursuits of after life. Whatever may be the 
 foundation of the difference in mind, it is certain 
 that the Creator has as bountifully provided for 
 our intellectual as for our physical wants. Few 
 persons come into the world deprived of the 
 senses, the organs of communication with ma- 
 terial things ; and should they, the mind is so 
 constituted that a privation of one sense, serves 
 but to render mental observation more acute by 
 means of the others. Children and even untu- 
 tored savages shew themselves capable of the 
 right use of intellect ; for all who are not idiots. 
 
 * Curiosities of Literature. 
 
86 THE DEVELOPEMENT OP MIND 
 
 and even these in a degree, can be made to un- 
 derstand, to feel, to remember, to compare and 
 to reason ; and seldom is there a human being 
 in society so debased as to be incapable of com- 
 prehending his social and moral responsibilities. 
 Where this debasement takes place in the mind, 
 we find, in most cases, the will under the influ- 
 ence, either of an indolent or a vicious propensity. 
 
 But the indolent mind may be roused to ex- 
 ertion, and stimulated by proper management 
 to glorious action ; the sensual -appetites., that 
 debase the intellect, may be restrained, and 
 habits of self-denial be established. Within 
 the mind there is power to overcome, if per- 
 severingly used, the lower propensities of ani- 
 mal nature, so that though the soul be clogged 
 in its alliance with the body, yet is it indued 
 with the ability to regulate and bring into sub- 
 jection its corporeal partner. 
 
 In the days of infancy, the intelligent mother 
 comes to the assistance of her child. Does the 
 little one seem slow in his mental progress, giv- 
 ing signs of what may be called the indolence 
 of stupidity ? She, with untiring assiduity, sets 
 before him such objects, and in such variety, as 
 cannot fail to interest and awake the slumbering 
 intellect ; she presses him onward, and never 
 leaves her duty until her child is rescued from 
 the benumbing effects of an indolent disposition, 
 
 
AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 87 
 
 that, if indulged, would sink the immortal spirit 
 to a state bordering upon idiocy. An example 
 in living history of this fact, gives proof that 
 the strong emotion reigning in a mother's heart 
 can thus come to the rescue of a child, giving 
 to him upon earth a name and place of respec- 
 tability ; who can tell what may be its influence 
 in Eternity ? Happy mother, still more happy 
 son in having such a mother. 
 
 J. W., was not thus fortunate. Bereft in his 
 cradle of her whose strong affection might have 
 prompted to vigorous effort, he was in a manner 
 abandoned to the indulgence of the lowest pro- 
 pensities of an evil nature ; indeed it might be 
 said he was incited to their indulgence by those 
 who took care of him, finding much trouble 
 saved by such a course. At the age of ten, 
 when placed under capable instructors, it seemed 
 impossible to teach him even to read, though it 
 was evident that in natural ability there was no 
 radical defect, for his conception and invention 
 of mischief, especially in lying, of which he 
 boasted, was wonderful. In the matter of ap- 
 plying his understanding to any thing correct or 
 right, he was utterly averse. His mind from 
 infancy was bent upon wickedness, and in the 
 opinion of some he was almost an idiot. Thus 
 he lived, and thus in youth, of his excesses, did 
 he die. 
 
88 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 
 
 See that pious, intellectual mother, to whom 
 Providence has entrusted a tender nursling. 
 Upon her knees, before the little one has begun 
 to form ideas into thoughts, does she implore 
 her Creator to grant wisdom to make her a 
 competent teacher to her child, fortitude to re- 
 sist the yearnings of maternal love that would 
 lead her to undue indulgence, grace so to con- 
 duct, that her example may be a fit pattern for 
 her offspring to copy. See that mother, giving 
 her first lessons, not from the story of Mother 
 Goose, one of the earliest falsehoods offered to 
 the infantile perceptions, but from the affecting- 
 prints of Joseph and his brethren, of Christ 
 blessing, while he takes the little children in 
 His arms. She addresses the opening under- 
 standing with momentous, but simple truths, in 
 the language of the truly divine songs of Dr. 
 Watts. Thus is the attention of her child first 
 directed to the All-seeing eye of God, fixed 
 upon him ; his little heart becomes affected with 
 the especial goodness of his Father in Heaven, 
 and the duties of reverence, of worship and 
 obedience to the Creator, are early inculcated. 
 The judicious mother now culls from the stores 
 of her own memory such facts, drawn from 
 natural science, as may most interest a child ; 
 she presents to him what is true and what is 
 lovely in nature, taking care not to sully the 
 
AND ITS CAPABILITY OP KNOWING. 89 
 
 youthful intellect with pernicious fictions, not 
 to confound it with abstractions, nor to cram it 
 with more ideas than the conception can receive. 
 Of such early instruction, many a one, through 
 the progress of fife, can testify to the benefit. 
 Instead of having the mind filled with the pue- 
 rile and ridiculous images of a disordered fancy, 
 it is, even in infancy, taught to reflect, to search 
 for truth, to delight only in what is beautiful and 
 good. Such a mind will, it is probable, for- 
 ever reject coarseness, folly and falsehood. 
 
 Let none of you engaged in the delightful 
 duty of communicating instruction to the young, 
 be discouraged with the unaptness of -a pupil. 
 That pupil may, while silently listening, be 
 employed in grasping with all his mental ener- 
 gy the truths imparted. Silence is not always 
 a symptom of vacuity of mind, it sometimes 
 marks intense application, and this very appli- 
 cation will often accomplish more than readi- 
 ness. Some who commence study late in life' 
 are so discouraged with the slowness of their 
 understandings, that they are ready to aban- 
 don it at the onset. Let none of you be thus 
 discouraged. The world of intellect, full 
 of wonders and of beauty is still hidden from 
 you ; open the eye of your mind while the cur- 
 tain is lifted that conceals it from your view. 
 The effort may cost you much, but your reward 
 
90 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 will be ample. What would not the blind give 
 for sight ? Witness the amazing difficulties, 
 which, by patience, they overcome to obtain a 
 little knowledge. A small part of the like per- 
 severance in study and reflection, would enable 
 you to appropriate to yourselves the delightful 
 truths of nature, of history and of morals. The 
 one talent is yours, labour diligently, that at the 
 return of your Lord, you may render Him that 
 with interest. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 Not to trouble you, my young friends, with 
 the opinions of the metaphysical schools, we 
 shall keep in view the most simple facts of this 
 science, and proceed to the investigation, as far 
 as we can comprehend it, of the manner in 
 which the mind acquires and uses knowledge. 
 Knowledge is the result of the mind's own ope- 
 rations, and these operations, that we may un- 
 derstand them more clearly, will be considered 
 under the names by which they are usually 
 designated. Consciousness, Sensation, Atten- 
 tion, Conception, Memory, Association, Abstrac- 
 tion, Reason, Judgment and Imagination. 
 
CONSCIOUSNESS. 91 
 
 We commence with Consciousness, not be- 
 cause it is the first mental operation, but because 
 it seems to stand first in order. To know our- 
 selves, is our first duty ; it is the preparation 
 for all other knowledge. Whatever else we 
 regard is external or foreign ; in looking at our- 
 selves we are at home. This indeed is the very 
 foundation of our study, for when we assert that 
 we think, we feel, we will, it is consciousness 
 alone that dictates the assertion ; for it alone gives 
 us the knowledge of these mental operations. 
 Consciousness exhibits to the reason that some- 
 thing within, which thinks, feels, and wills. It 
 is consciousness that shews to the mind its own 
 existence. It gives the knowledge of the me, 
 as Cousin expresses it ; the knowledge of the 
 not me is derived from sensation. These two 
 kinds of knowledge bound or limit each other, 
 for whatever is perceived by Consciousness is 
 me, all else is not me. 
 
 We have a knowledge, it is true, of our own 
 persons, from sensation ; we touch, we see our 
 form, we- hear our voice; but the body itself 
 is not the me, for the hand is not conscious of 
 any power to move, neither is the foot, but there 
 is some active principle within the frame that 
 feels the ability and the will to perform motion, 
 and by it, is the hand or foot, like a piece of 
 machinery, put in operation. 
 
92 , CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 This moving power is the mind, and the 
 knowledge that the mind has of its own exist- 
 ence is derived from consciousness. Each one 
 for himself knows that he has thoughts, that he 
 feels certain emotions of pleasure or of pain, 
 that he has desires, strong or feeble, after par- 
 ticular objects, that he wills to perform certain 
 actions. This is Consciousness, and Reason 
 immediately perceives that these thoughts, feel- 
 ings and volitions must belong to some being or 
 subject, and calls this being I or me. The 
 knowledge of self-existence is a perception of 
 the Reason, this the brute has not, for he has 
 no knowledge except from sensation.* Reason 
 deducing from Consciousness the knowledge of 
 self, will also arrive at the knowledge of a First 
 Cause, the Origin of me, and of all other effects 
 that are not me. 
 
 These facts may be perceived by the mind 
 without sensation ; first, my own existence, 
 which is me, second the place in which I exist, 
 which is not me, third the Cause of my exist- 
 ence, and of the existence of the space I occupy, 
 as well as of the relation we hold to each other. 
 Hence we perceive that consciousness is inde- 
 pendent of all other operations of mind, and 
 gives knowledge and evidence distinct from 
 that which is furnished by the senses. 
 
 * Note D. 
 
CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 By the external signs of countenance, lan- 
 guage and actions, we become acquainted with 
 the minds of others ; by consciousness, with our 
 own. We know that we think, that we love, 
 hate and desire. Should the question be asked 
 how we know this, we could give a reply, not 
 more satisfactory, than we could to the question, 
 how we know that we perceive an object or a 
 sound, or how we could prove ourselves to be 
 sensible of cold or heat . ? yet no one doubts his 
 power to think, to remember, to associate ideas, 
 to judge, to reason, to desire, to feel aversion, 
 love, joy and fear. " The phenomenon of Con- 
 sciousness, says Cousin, is given by an imme- 
 diate apperception which obtains it and knows 
 it directly." He also calls Consciousness, "in- 
 ternal intuition, immediate vision and percep- 
 tion." 
 
 External perception assures us of the exist- 
 ence of body or matter ; consciousness con- 
 vinces us of the existence of something inde- 
 pendent of the body to which we give the name 
 of mind or soul. No one in his senses can 
 doubt that the objects he perceives are real, so 
 no one doubts that he thinks and feels. Con- 
 sciousness is a simple state of the mind, it re- 
 quires no external objects for its exercise, the 
 reflective powers are alone concerned in it ; a 
 full proof that the part called Myself, the soul, 
 
94 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 exists independently of the body. " Every per- 
 son is conscious that he is now the same person 
 or self he was as far back as his remembrance 
 reaches ; since, when any one reflects upon a 
 past action of his own he is just as certain of 
 the person who did that action, namely himself, 
 the person who now reflects upon it, as he is 
 certain that the action was at all done. Nay, 
 very often, a person's assurance of an action 
 having been done, of which he is absolutely 
 assured, arises wholly from the consciousness 
 that he himself did it." # , . 
 
 Consciousness, therefore, assures us of our 
 identity ; that is, of our being the same person 
 now that we were twenty or thirty years ago. 
 This consciousness of the past we obtain through 
 the memory, reflection gives consciousness of 
 the present, by imagination we carry ourselves 
 or our consciousness into the future. Thus have 
 we, sleeping or waking, a continued sense of our 
 existence ; and who will have the temerity to 
 suppose that this sense of being or existence 
 will ever cease ? The infidel who rejects the 
 belief of the immaterial and immortal part of 
 man, is as absurd as the philosopher who 
 doubted the evidence of his senses ; who as- 
 serted that there was no such thing as pain. Of 
 this fact he was convinced by a hard blow upon 
 
 * Bishop Butler. 
 
CONSCIOUSNESS. 95 
 
 the head. It will be well for those who doubt 
 of the existence of the soul, if they be not cured 
 of their unbelief in a manner more fatal to their 
 happiness. 
 
 - Upham says, " a man may reason against 
 Consciousness as a ground and law of belief, 
 either for the sake of amusing himself and puz- 
 zling others ; but when he not only reasons 
 against it as such, but seriously and sincerely 
 rejects it, it becomes quite another concern, and 
 such an one has by common consent, broken 
 loose from the authority of his nature, and is 
 truly and emphatically beside himself." 
 
 A curious instance of this kind of derange- 
 ment was seen in the case of a highly respecta- 
 ble and pious gentleman, who, as was supposed, 
 through much study, became thus disordered. 
 He seemed to have lost his belief of the identity 
 of things, as well as of his personal identity. He 
 spoke, when induced to enter into conversation, 
 of every thing as apparent ; but there was a 
 strange incoherence in his discourse when he 
 undertook to converse of events or of persons 
 which had in time past been interesting to him. 
 There was a struggle to maintain the style of 
 the doubtful ; and it was amusing, if amusement 
 might be said to enter into so sad a contempla- 
 tion of the disorder of the gifted intellect, to 
 
96 CONSCIOUSNESS* 
 
 observe how continually he was betrayed into 
 the certain. " It apparently was so :" but to 
 whom was it so . p The answer must be, to me : 
 who is this me ? 
 
 All the senses are to us sources of enjoyment. 
 How delightful to open the eyes to the joyous 
 beams of the morning sun, to look out upon the 
 beautiful earth covered with a carpet of green, 
 from which thousands of fragrant and lovely 
 flowers are springing ; to hear the soft notes of 
 the little birds ; to taste the delicious fruits of 
 summer, while reposing on the soft and shaded 
 herbage. Still more delightful are the strains 
 of music, the kind countenance and morning 
 salutation of a friend ; the eloquence of the eye 
 and the lip ; the voice of love and sympathy. 
 But oh, far beyond this, is the enjoyment arising 
 from the consciousness that we are something 
 in God's creation above animate and sensitive 
 beings, to know that we think, reason, feel ; to 
 live in a world of our own. We might become 
 blind, deaf, dumb ; this fair creation be shut out 
 from our perception, the voice of melody and of 
 friendship no longer vibrate to the heart's core ; 
 still would there be within us, something that 
 would think and enjoy. This something is in- 
 dependent of the gross body ; it would hold 
 communion with other minds, live in other 
 
CONSCIOUSNESS. 97 
 
 worlds, be to us an assurance that another and 
 higher state of existence was intended for this 
 intellectual part we call the soul. 
 
 Consciousness belongs to every one as a con- 
 dition of reason, but reflection belongs to those 
 only who attend to consciousness ; it is con- 
 sciousness put in operation. It is the mind 
 bent or turned by attention in upon itself, to 
 observe or scrutinize its own operations. What 
 is the mind but ourselves ? and where should 
 we dwell, but at home, with ourselves f If a 
 householder should be continually abroad, at- 
 tending to the concerns of others, his house 
 would be badly kept, his children run into dis- 
 orderly conduct, his servants become unfaithful, 
 his condition at last be bankruptcy. So with the 
 mind. Living out of ourselves, that is, without 
 reflection or attending to what passes within 
 our minds, thought will run into disorder, the 
 understanding will be obtuse, or unfaithful, and 
 reason become a bankrupt. Refusing to exer- 
 cise the distinguishing attribute of his immortal 
 nature, man does not by any means so well fill 
 up his station in existence as the brute guided 
 by the impulse of instinct. 
 
 Reason has its sublime st exercise when en- 
 gaged in the investigation of the noblest work 
 of the Almighty Creator, the soul ; the soul 
 
98 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 created in the image of God, destined to exist 
 when the glories of earth shall fade away, 
 formed to display the perfections of the Uncre- 
 ated Godhead in its redemption ! In this is 
 the noblest exercise of human reason. In this 
 is man eminently distinguished from the brute. 
 The brute is sensitive and has through the 
 senses the instinctive understanding of many 
 things. He distinguishes what is good for 
 him or hurtful, he knows friends from stran- 
 gers, he is capable of remembrance, he feels 
 affection and aversion, expresses joy and fear, 
 and has a sort of foresight ; but he knows not 
 himself by consciousness and reflection. This 
 glorious prerogative is bestowed upon the rea- 
 sonable soul, upon the creature destined to 
 immortality. 
 
 By our senses we arrive at a knowledge of 
 the world without, by reflection or attention to 
 our consciousness or thoughts, at the world 
 within. And for what purpose was the world 
 without made, but that it might be connected 
 with the world within ; that is, with thought, 
 with feeling, with reason and with conscience I 
 The soul is brought in contact with material things 
 that it may be tried by them ; and how can it be 
 tried by them except in a state of reflection f 
 
 The person who lives without reflection, that 
 
CONSCIOUSNESS. 99 
 
 is, without examining his own thoughts, feel- 
 ings and desires in the light of reason, of con- 
 science and of Revelation, lives like the brute 
 under the dominion of the senses. Reason to 
 such a one is of less value than instinct is to the 
 animal. He lives like a child led by the preju- 
 dices of others ; well for him should he suffer 
 himself to be guided by their reason. In com- 
 mon matters he is of the opinion of the last 
 speaker, and in religious belief he is blown 
 about by every " wind of doctrine." He knows 
 not his own mind, for he has never reflected 
 sufficiently to understand what manner of thought 
 is his. The glass of consciousness does not 
 hold him up to himself, so that to himself he is 
 nobody. 
 
 Nor is this his worst misfortune. In degra- 
 ding his nature, he does not lose his respon- 
 sibility. He may, indeed, through indolence 
 or a love of sensual gratification, refuse to cul- 
 tivate, by means of reflection, the powers of the 
 wonderful Intellect, revealed to him by con- 
 sciousness ; but he cannot do it with impunity, 
 for consciousness will sooner or later force its 
 light into the mind, and conscience awaking 
 from the slumber of years, will be heard like the 
 roar of a lion aroused in his den. 
 
 My dear young friends, the world within you 
 is open to yourselves and to God alone. None 
 
100 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 else can tell what passes through your minds* 
 You may deceive others and even yourselves 
 by the amiability of your deportment, the cor- 
 rectness of your conduct, by the piety in your 
 profession ; while the feelings of envy, of pride, 
 of passion may lie concealed in the bosom : and 
 when in apparent devotion your lips invoke the 
 Great Creator in prayer, or render Him hom- 
 age in praise, your heart may be far from Him; 
 God not in all your thoughts. This, while con- 
 cealed from all around, to you is known in 
 consciousness. Shut not out its light ; let re- 
 flection set it before your conscience. It is 
 known to God, He formed your understanding, 
 and " God will uot be mocked." 
 
 Says Coleridge ; in the Aids to Reflection, 
 " An hour of solitude passed in sincere and 
 earnest prayer, or in the conflict with, and con- 
 quest over a single passion, or bosom sin, will 
 teach us more of thought, will more effectually 
 awaken the faculty, and' form the habit of re- 
 flection, than a year's study in the schools with- 
 out them. Let it not be forgotten that the powers 
 of the understanding and the intellectual graces 
 are the precious gifts of God ; and that every 
 Christian, according to the opportunities vouch- 
 safed to him, is bound to cultivate the one and 
 to acquire the other; Indeed he is scarcely a 
 Christian who neglects so to do." 
 
SENSATION. 101 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SENSATION. 
 
 Sensation is the perception we have of the 
 properties of material objects by means of the 
 five senses, smell, taste, touch, hearing and 
 sight. 
 
 The mind being in itself an immaterial ex- 
 istence, intellectual and moral, it is difficult to 
 conceive of it in connection with matter or body, 
 though it is perhaps still more difficult, to con- 
 ceive of it unconnected with body. The man- 
 ner of this connection has never, as yet by sci- 
 entific research been discovered. Some theo- 
 rists make the brain the organ not only of all 
 sensation and intelligence, but also of moral 
 feeling. Wp are conscious that the sensation of 
 cold, which we feel when placing our feet upon 
 the snow, is in the feet and not in the head. 
 We refer our perception of odours to the nose, 
 and of the various qualities of our food to the 
 palate. We are sensible of a pain in the head 
 when the mind v is intensely, and for a length of 
 time, applied to any one operation of thought ; 
 so of a fluttering at the heart and tremor in 
 various parts of the frame, when under the 
 excitement of strong emotion. The paleness of 
 fear or of sorrow — the flush of anger and of 
 
102 SENSATION. 
 
 shame, show the empire of mind over the cir- 
 culating fluid, the blood. The common sense 
 of mankind, as obtained from consciousness, 
 and expressed in language, is the evidence from 
 which we draw the conclusion that the soul uses 
 the body as its organ, and that every part of 
 the corporeal frame is subject to its dominion. 
 
 How the union between mind and matter is 
 established, will probably remain among the 
 secret things that belong to God. Let it be our 
 wisdom to be satisfied with such discoveries as 
 reason, aided by Scripture, may unfold. The 
 Creator, as we are assured by the Word of 
 Truth, intended, in the formation of the mate- 
 rial universe, as it is known to us, to give a 
 display of His own perfections. The wisdom 
 seen in adapting and relating things and beings 
 to each other, the goodness in providing for the 
 happiness of the meanest creature, the admi- 
 rable workmanship every where exhibited, 
 plainly prove ^that this display of Divine per- 
 fection was fitted for creatures formed to know, 
 to understand, to admire and to adore. To 
 know and understand the wisdom of the Deity, 
 the rational intellect would be sufficient ; to 
 adore His moral perfections, the moral nature 
 alone of the soul would be necessary ; but to 
 admire His works the perceptions arising from 
 sense are indispensable. 
 
SENSATION. 103 
 
 For what purpose is the beauty spread over 
 the heavens, and glowing and sparkling in innu- 
 merably varied forms upon earth, but that it 
 may charm the eye of man ! Why are the 
 woods, the groves and meadows filled with 
 melody ? why, do the waters murmur over their 
 pebbly beds, and the soft breezes whisper among 
 the trees, but to please his ear ? Why is the 
 air loaded with the sweets of odoriferous plants, 
 why do trees bend under their delicious bur- 
 dens, but to satisfy his smell and taste ? All 
 the works of God praise Him, and man so won- 
 derfully made is fitted by his nature to enjoy 
 them. In the social relations man needed an 
 organic frame. Without body we know not 
 what might be the medium of spirit's intercourse 
 with .spirit ; as it is, we are sensible of the de- 
 lights of personal friendship, the cordial touch 
 of the hand, the gaze of affection ; the inter- 
 change of thought by the means of language, 
 is precious to the heart. 
 
 Thus we see that man in his sensitive nature 
 is adapted to_this earth which was first created 
 for his reception. Allied by his senses to the 
 animal tribes of which he forms the highest 
 species, he is akin to spiritual and angelic beings 
 by his intellectual perceptions, his reason and 
 his moral feelings. That we are fearfully and 
 wonderfully made, we would humbly and grate- 
 
104 SENSATION. 
 
 fully acknowledge ; and while we feel that our 
 origin is in the dust, and our nature allied to that 
 of the mere animal, we may enquire with won- 
 der, " Lord, what is man that Thou art mindful of 
 him ?" " Thou hast made him a little lower 
 than the angels, and crowned him with glory 
 and honour." 
 
 How the two states of existence, material 
 and immaterial, sensitive and intellectual, act 
 upon each other, we cannot tell ; neither can we 
 ascertain whether the mind originates our first 
 ideas, or whether they are furnished by the 
 impressions of the senses. Here, experience 
 does not teach us, for memory goes, back only 
 to a certain point, and this point reaches not 
 the beginnings of thought. Nor is this research 
 necessary. It is sufficient here to notice that 
 the mind seems to be set in motion by the 
 objects that offer themselves to the senses of 
 sight, hearing, touch, taste and smell. These 
 senses in some way, perhaps by means of an 
 influence communicated through the nerves, are 
 under the direction of the mind, and are used 
 by it as instruments of primary perception. 
 Should any one of these senses be wanting, the 
 mind would be deprived of that instrument of 
 perception, and consequently, in the class of 
 ideas, communicated by that sense, it would 
 be deficient. A blind person could have no 
 
SENSATION. 105 
 
 idea of colours, nor a deaf one of sounds, this 
 latter would also be dumb or deprived of the 
 power of expressing thought by speech, never 
 having heard the sounds which are the outward 
 symbols of thought. An original imperfection 
 in the organs of sight causing us to see objects 
 indistinctly, would occasion such imperfection 
 in the mental perception of them, as to render 
 the conception incorrect. 
 
 In like manner with the sense of hearing. 
 Imperfection in this would render our articula- 
 tion incorrect, and perhaps may account for 
 that defect called the want of a musical ear. 
 Some persons cannot distinguish one tune from 
 another, and others are so ignorant of the place 
 of sounds, that a knock at a door will send them 
 to one in an opposite direction. 
 
 The senses of smell and taste connect man 
 with material objects and those inanimate. 
 They are senses of the lowest order and prob- 
 ably possessed by brutes in much greater per- 
 fection than by man ; indeed they appear to 
 constitute the chief gratifications of the animal 
 tribes, and have but little to do" with the intel- 
 lect. They furnish no materials for the finer 
 emotions, though they enter largely into what 
 are called the pleasures of sense. The modern 
 fine lady cannot exist without her perfumeiy, 
 the finished epicure finds living insupportable 
 
106 SENSATION. 
 
 without the spices of the East, the olive and the 
 grape of the South. The earthly gifts of our 
 Creator are all good and valuable to us, and as 
 we have senses adapted to their enjoyment, 
 they should be thankfully used ; but of the 
 abuse we must beware. Luxury and intem- 
 perance stupify the soul ; by them, the fine per- 
 ceptions of beauty and propriety, the intellec- 
 tual conceptions of judgment, of reason, of moral 
 sense and of conscience are confused ; even the 
 social affections are buried in the grave of sen- 
 .suality. When the soul subjects itself to plea- 
 sures purely organic, it descends as near as pos- 
 sible to the level of the brute. Alexander the 
 Great, though possessed of fine intellectual qual- 
 ities, in the disappointment of his ambitious 
 projects, returned to the objects that had prob- 
 ably in his youth afforded him most delight ; 
 not being permitted to partake of nectar with 
 Olympian Jupiter, he contented himself with 
 inebriating draughts from the cup of Hercules. 
 To the sense of touch may be referred our 
 knowledge of qualities in bodies, of a higher 
 order, than those, which we obtain by the per- 
 ceptions of taste and smell. From it we derive 
 our ideas of cold and heat, of hardness and 
 softness, of smoothness and roughness, of form, 
 and of extension. These ideas furnish matter 
 for some of the most acute reasonings of the 
 
SENSATION. 107 
 
 mind. The sense of touch or feeling is not con- 
 fined to any parfrof the body, though some parts 
 are more susceptible of the sensation than others. 
 The hand, the feet, the tongue and the lips are 
 such parts. The hand, besides being the in- 
 strument, by the means of which we are enabled 
 to perform labour, is especially the organ of 
 touch ; by it, we are made acquainted with cer- 
 tain qualities of bodies which the general sense 
 of feeling, or as some call it tact, would not 
 very definitely convey ; inequalities, for instance 
 on surfaces, that not even the eye, unassisted, 
 could detect ; thus may touch be a surer 
 source of the idea of form than sight. In some 
 cases the defect of sight is remedied by touch, 
 as in the blind, who are taught to read by the 
 means of raised letters. This process of learn- 
 ing to read is tedious, but wonderful have been 
 its results in the instruction of those whom Prov- 
 idence has deprived of sight. A deprivation of 
 the organ of touch, the hand, is sometimes sup- 
 plied by an increased sensation in other parts. 
 Instances of this are seen in those, who, born 
 without arms, are able to use their toes in many 
 labours that are performed by the hands alone ; 
 such as sewing, writing, cutting and even draw- 
 ing, with tolerable skill. Some with the lips or 
 tongue are known to thread a needle. A loss 
 of one of the senses will by the force of atten- 
 
108 SENSATION. 
 
 tion and habit produce great acuteness in the 
 others. Some years ago, before institutions for 
 the blind were known, a young lady residing 
 near the City of New- York, who having the 
 misfortune to lose her sight at the age of five 
 years, had such acute perceptions of hearing 
 that she never forgot a person, not even the 
 name of one whom she had once heard speak ; 
 the sound of the voice which for years she 
 had not heard, would bring to her lips the name, 
 with the expression, manifesting her pleasure, 
 " I am glad to see you." In most cases the sound 
 of the voice was not necessary, she recognized 
 the step. Her sense of touch was so acute that 
 in sewing together bits of coloured cloth, she 
 would, from feeling the cloth before it was cut, 
 assort the different colours, and match them 
 according to the plan of arrangement, in that 
 old-fashioned piece of workmanship, called a 
 rag-carpet. Although perfectly blind, she went 
 readily to any part of the house. She was very 
 particular as to the arrangement of her dress, 
 enquiring into the fashion, and desirous that the 
 colours she wore might be well chosen and be- 
 coming. 
 
 The primary subjects of thought, or our first 
 ideas, depend as far as we can ascertain, on 
 the perceptions of the senses. The mind has 
 a power within itself to apprehend whatever is 
 
SENSATION. 109 
 
 presented to it ; but before the intellect is suf- 
 ficiently strong to take hold of abstract prop- 
 erties, to understand relations or fitness ; before 
 it is sufficiently cultivated to perceive beauty 
 or order, or accustomed to turn its perceptions 
 upon itself, in the difficult labour of reflection, 
 the mind is employed in the pleasant and easy 
 exercise of its powers upon the objects that 
 address themselves to the senses. Like the 
 body must it be trained by exercise. The hu- 
 man frame is provided with all the instruments 
 of motion, but its first movements are of the 
 most simple kind and altogether instinctive or 
 involuntary. When the voluntary motions be- 
 gin, being restricted by the feebleness of mus- 
 cular power, the progression is almost imper- 
 ceptible, from the first time the infant reaches 
 his hand after an attractive object, to the steady, 
 guarded and swift movement of the sailor, as 
 he springs from rope to rope Until he plants his 
 foot upon the pinnacle at the mast-head. 
 
 Thus it is with the mind ; though possessed 
 of power to reach the loftiest conceptions, yet 
 in its connection with the body it is impeded in 
 its operations, or rather by this connection, is 
 it brought in contact with the material world. 
 The senses afford the first means of commu- 
 nication between the soul and external things ; 
 between the me and the not me. The infant 
 
110 SENSATION. 
 
 opens its e} T es to the light, but without perceiv- 
 ing it ; in a few weeks the eager turning of his 
 head towards a candle or the window, shows 
 some perception of objects ; noise attracts his 
 notice, motion pleases him. Sight, hearing and 
 touch give the first ideas to the new-born intel- 
 lect ; taste is then a pure instinct, and smell 
 useless. In after years these senses are used 
 in the animal or artificial wants of man, while 
 sight, hearing and touch are employed in his 
 high intellectual pursuits and more refined 
 pleasures. The period of childhood is passed 
 in acquiring, by means of the senses, a multitude 
 of ideas. They are the rough materials of 
 which conception frames its images. As mind 
 progresses in its operations, thought labours to 
 turn these treasures, carefully preserved by 
 memory, to good account ; it examines, com- 
 pares, combines, arranges and reasons ; until 
 from the first foundation of knowledge laid in 
 the senses, is science, by the operation of intel- 
 lect, built up in its exact and beautiful propor- 
 tions. 
 
 Most brutes, like men, are provided with the 
 five senses, but a noted difference is remarked 
 in their perceptions. Brutes perceive objects 
 though they seem to notice but few of their 
 qualities, confining their attention mostly to such 
 as tend to their preservation and comfort 
 
 : 
 
SENSATION. Ill 
 
 Every animal knows the particular kind of food 
 provided for his species. The insect that lives 
 on the rose-leaf will not be induced to feed 
 upon the cabbage. In all the brutal tribes the 
 senses of sight, hearing and smell appear to 
 contribute especially to their preservation from 
 danger, and to aid in their search after food ; in 
 eating and in motion they seem to find exquisite 
 delight. . - 
 
 Here we have a striking instance of the good- 
 ness of our Creator, for in forming sensitive 
 beings without intellectual and immortal spirits, 
 He has bestowed upon them as much enjoyment 
 as animal life can receive. Some seem to enjoy 
 even the comforts of home that belong to - ra- 
 tional and social beings. The dog at his mas- 
 ter's feet luxuriates in repose at the parlour fire, 
 while the kitten, in its gambols, enjo}^s with the 
 little ones the sport of entangling the yarn of 
 the aged grandmother. As God has bestowed 
 life upon the animal tribes, so has He given to 
 those which have not the added gift of reason, 
 something that resembles it, instinct to enable 
 them to preserve fife and to enjoy it. Some 
 brutes show a sort of understanding, as is seen 
 in the remembrance the elephant has of injuries, 
 and in the discrimination of the dog, who in 
 saving a drowning child, will catch at its clothes 
 with his teeth, though with care he avoids doing 
 
112 SENSATION. 
 
 any injury to its person. As some animals ap- 
 pear to assimilate to man in his understanding 
 and social feelings, so many men appear in 
 these respects but little raised above the animal, 
 and even sink far below the level of the affec- 
 tionate faithful dog. In the indulgence of appe- 
 tite they are sensual and fix themselves upon 
 the gross things of earth, or else light and tri- 
 fling, like the butterfly, they seek but to flutter 
 among the gewgaws of life. Reflection is a 
 toil to them, and qualities in objects that demand 
 it are disregarded. Pity that the nobler part 
 of our nature, the immortal Intellect, should 
 subject itself to the dominion of that, which ought 
 to be used as its servant. 
 
 The exercise of any one of the senses leaves 
 an impression upon us that we term sensation : 
 but in these impressions we notice a remarkable 
 difference. We see a flower and obtain an idea 
 of its form and colour ; we smell it and a per- 
 ception of some odour, agreeable or the contrary 
 remains in the mind. We hear a sound and 
 receive an impression of something loud or low, 
 harsh or melodious. We touch a body and 
 perceive that it is either hot or cold, hard or 
 soft ; we taste it and find it sweet or sour, bitter 
 or insipid. The touch of ice produces the sen- 
 sation of cold, that of fire heat ; agreeable food 
 gives us pleasure, so do fragrant odours. These 
 
SENSATIOX, 113 
 
 effects are all produced upon the organ itself; 
 that is in the tongue which tastes, in the hand 
 which touches, in the nose that smells, and have 
 se little to do with the mind, that it is difficult 
 to recall them, unless through attending cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 Qualities of matter when simple produce sensa- 
 tion, as being particularly addressed to the organ 
 that is affected; when associated with other quali- 
 ties, they produce emotion ; because the mind is 
 moved or excited in the perception. The smell 
 of a rose, the taste of honey, the touch of snow, 
 the colour of scarlet, the sound of a bell, a note 
 in music, are instances of simple qualities that 
 produce sensation ; but the odour of a drug that 
 has been nauseous, the taste of food of which 
 we have partaken in the delights of social con- 
 viviality, the touch of a hand* stiffened by the 
 frost of death, the tolling of a bell that announces 
 the last sad duties to a friend, or the merry peal 
 that marks the approach of festive mirth, the 
 crimson that rises to the cheek of modesty, or 
 the paleness that denotes the ravage of sorrow 
 or of want, are instances of associated qualities 
 that move the mind, and produce what are called 
 emotions. The sensations derived from smell, 
 taste and touch, even when associated, have 
 comparatively little power over the intellect, 
 
 controlled by the rational or moral perception. 
 
 8 
 
114 SENSATION. 
 
 They originate the appetites, the lower propen- 
 sities of our nature, and should submit them- 
 selves to reason, and to conscience. Persons 
 strongly affected by the lower sensations com- 
 monly become subjects of pity, sometimes of 
 disgust to those whose perceptions are refined. 
 
 The objects of sight and hearing, addressed 
 more particularly to the intellect, operate upon 
 the finer feelings of our nature. Beauty affects 
 not the eye, but the mind with delight ; music 
 gives rapture, not to the ear, but to the soul. 
 The pleasures arising from beauty, sublimity, 
 harmony, and other qualities, called the plea- 
 sures of taste, are common to all mankind, that 
 is, to such as are provided with the senses of 
 sight and hearing ; but the qualities in objects 
 that give rise to the emotions of taste, are so 
 affected by the power of associating them with 
 circumstances, of adding to them by the ima- 
 gination, of correcting, or rather selecting them 
 by means of the judgment, that it is only where 
 mind is refined by cultivation, that a true stand- 
 ard of taste can be found. 
 
 The senses of taste and smell make man 
 acquainted with the qualities in bodies which 
 excite him to the gratification of the appetites 
 that tend to preserve his animal existence. 
 Those of touch and sight prompt to research 
 into the external properties of objects that exer- 
 
SENSATION. 115 
 
 cise thought and reasoning ; hence the founda- 
 tion of the natural sciences. Sight, also awa- 
 kening the imagination, calls forth a variety of 
 feelings that render life delightful, and the en- 
 joyment derived from the agreeable qualities of 
 objects is wonderfully increased by the sense 
 of hearing, which opens the mind to a rush of 
 exquisite emotions : quick and lively tones fill 
 it with gaiety and joy, while those that are soft 
 and gentle melt it into tenderness. But more 
 than this, hearing imparts to the mind the 
 thoughts and feelings of other minds ; and while 
 the other senses form the connecting bond be- 
 tween mind and matter, hearing is the imme- 
 diate channel through which the intelligent spirit 
 communicates itself with kindred spirits.* 
 
 Thus we see that mind and matter are con- 
 nected by means of the sensative nature of man. 
 How mind can exist without the senses we know 
 not, or whether when freed from the body it 
 will be provided with another and more perfect 
 organization we cannot tell ; but that the power 
 of external perception will continue, we must 
 believe. The glories of the eternal world are de- 
 scribed by objects of sense. We have representa- 
 tions of a heavenly city, with streets of gold, and 
 walls with gates of precious stones ; we are 
 assured that no night shall be there, but light 
 
 * Note E. 
 
116 SENSATION. 
 
 different from that of the sun. There also is 
 the music of harp and of song ; the blessed are 
 clothed in robes of white, wearing crowns of 
 gold, with palms of victory in their hands. Ob- 
 jects of sense figure in all the descriptions of a 
 future state of existence ; as well in the world 
 of woe as in the world of bliss, it would seem 
 as if the spirit carries with it when it leaves the 
 body something of its sensitive nature ; at least 
 such is the expression left upon the sacred 
 Record for our notice. In one of these states 
 we find there shall be weeping and wailing ; in 
 another, all tears shall be wiped from the eyes, 
 and sorrow and sighing shall flee away forever. 
 This subject teaches us that our material 
 part though formed of dust, is honoured with 
 an alliance to immortality. Use not the senses 
 to the abuse of the god-like Intellect ; neither 
 suffer the mind despotically to tyrannize over 
 its servant the body, but preserve with care 
 the casket which contains so invaluable a jewel 
 as the soul ; for remember further, that though 
 worms shall destroy your bodies, yet in your 
 flesh shall you see God. 
 
ATTENTION. 11? 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 Attend, in French attendre, in Latin attendo, 
 compounded of at and tendo to stretch, signifies 
 to bend or stretch the mind to a thing. Atten- 
 tion derived from the verb to attend may then 
 be defined, bending or applying the mind to 
 an object or subject for the purpose of examina- 
 tion. It is the first requisite for making progress 
 in knowledge, and may be given to a subject in 
 various degrees ; it rewards according to the 
 proportion in which it is given.* 
 
 We say that bodies have properties, that is 
 qualities ; they are hard or soft, black or white, 
 have form and divisibility. Of the soul we say 
 it has faculties, or the ability to think, to remem- 
 ber, to combine, to judge, to reason. An inani- 
 mate substance is inert, that is, has no power of 
 motion within itself; when put in motion an 
 impetus must be given it from some power 
 without. We call this substance a thing. The 
 mind in this differs from matter, having the 
 power to move itself. We know that if we wish 
 to shut out the perception of objects, we have 
 the ability to close our eyes, to stop our ears ; 
 
 * See Crabbe's Synonymes. 
 
118 ATTENTION. 
 
 so when truth is presented to the reason, we 
 may refuse to reflect upon it ; also, we may, if 
 we choose, look upon one object, and turn away 
 our eyes from another; so a] so, may we ex- 
 amine a subject or part of a subject by reflec- 
 tion or observation, and withdraw the thoughts 
 from others. The mind is a person, not a thing. 
 It is a free agent and has power to move itself. 
 To the will then, must the faculty of attention, 
 as already defined, be referred. 
 
 The eye in itself has the property of receiv- 
 ing objects, or rather of seeing them when open, 
 without any operation of the will ; so the mind 
 perceives whatever is brought before it by the 
 senses or by reason, without any such opera- 
 tion. But every one knows, that objects fre- 
 quently present themselves to the sight, and 
 sounds enter the organ of hearing, without 
 making any sensible impression on the mind. 
 Thus a person on a journey may pass through 
 woods and vales, through villages and cities, 
 without observation ; he marks not the beauty 
 of the scenery, nor the magnificence of the 
 buildings, he regards no objects but the mile- 
 stones ; he observes nothing but his approach 
 to his own dwelling. His child is at the point 
 of death ; every object, every thought but that 
 which so painfully presses upon him is disre- 
 garded. Here we see that the mind is power- 
 
ATTENTION. 119 
 
 fully, almost irresistibly bent upon a subject 
 that for the present is absorbing. But should 
 this parent be much given to the speculations of 
 interest, might he not possibly be so drawn 
 from the feelings of natural affection as to con- 
 sider for a short time the location of some ad- 
 vantageous offer that had just before been pre- 
 sented ? or, rather, being a pious man, would 
 he not readily revert from his affliction to the 
 hand of Him who sent it, and occasionally be 
 enabled to tear away his thoughts from grief so 
 completely as to feel a peace greater than any 
 procured by the objects of sense ! 
 
 The mind then is under the influence of mo- 
 tives, either external or internal which direct 
 its voluntary movements in one particular course. 
 When no motives operate, it is like a piece 
 of machinery, in motion without any di- 
 recting purpose. Thus a boat may be set afloat 
 upon the ocean, and driven by the winds and 
 waves in various directions, but without a helms- 
 man it would not be certain to reach any par- 
 ticular port. The boat is so constructed that 
 being placed upon a body of water, motion 
 would be natural to it : so the mind being en- 
 dowed with the power of perceiving and com- 
 bining objects and ideas, does thus act upon the 
 subjects that without ceasing present themselves, 
 even without the operation of the will. In sleep 
 
120 ATTENTION. 
 
 the will does not control our thoughts, but the 
 senses are sometimes sufficiently awake to set 
 the mind in operation. The noise of thunder 
 at such a time might occasion the dream of a 
 battle. In this the dreamer would find himself 
 in scenes of carnage ; heroes of renown, Cyrus 
 and Alexander, with whom his mind in study 
 had that day been occupied, would figure in the 
 vision as his most intimate companions. In 
 this instance we see, that not only is the will 
 passive, but the judgment which is concerned 
 in separating truth from falsehood, is not di- 
 rected by reason. The same is the case in 
 re very, in which the mind wanders from object 
 to object, one idea chasing another without any 
 regular train of thought. Thus while indolence 
 prevents the will from exercising attention, 
 the imagination like an untamed colt, gaily 
 prances about in its wild frolics without any 
 special object. 
 
 This state of mind, by the French termed 
 reverie from rever to dream, is well described 
 by J. J. Rousseau in his own case. Says he, 
 " When the weather was fine, I threw myself 
 alone in a boat, which I rowed to the middle of 
 the lake. There stretching myself at full length 
 in the small vessel, with my face turned to the 
 heavens, I went, carried about by the waves, 
 sometimes for several hours together, plunged 
 
ATTENTION. 121 
 
 in a thousand confused and delicious reveries, 
 which had no object, but which were to my 
 mind a hundred times to be preferred to all that 
 I had found most delightful in what are called 
 the pleasures of life. The noise of the water 
 served to give some movement to the mind, 
 which reverie extinguished, and made me feel 
 pleasure in my existence without the trouble of 
 thought." He says farther, "I have sometimes 
 reflected profoundly, but rarely with pleasure ; 
 revery unbends and amuses, reflection fatigues 
 and saddens. At present forced to occupy 
 myself, I scarce ever find those extacies which, 
 during fifty years, held the place in my mind of 
 fortune and of glory, without any expense but 
 that of time, and rendered me in indolence the 
 happiest of mortals."* 
 
 How different is this account, given of him- 
 self, by one of the most admired of enthusiasts 
 and infidels, which the past age of literary 
 glory has produced, from the humble and tri- 
 umphant acknowledgment of the royal David. 
 " O how love I Thy law ! it is my meditation all 
 the day. I have more understanding than all 
 my teachers ; for Thy testimonies are my med- 
 itation." Ps. 119. Rousseau's pleasure origi- 
 nated in disregarding the thoughts that passed 
 through his mind, thus banishing all reflection. 
 
 * Translated from " Les Reveries, Promenade 5 and 7. 
 
122 ATTENTION. 
 
 He fled from himself, and more especially from 
 the consideration of his relations to his Creator 
 and to his fellow creatures. This, his life suf- 
 ficiently testifies. David meditated on the law 
 of God. Here he saw his own deficiencies and 
 was abased, he saw the perfections of God and 
 was filled with joy, such as the philosopher 
 never knew in the indolent and most amusing 
 reveries of his imagination.* 
 
 The above illustration gives a melancholy 
 view of a voluntary degradation of intellect. 
 Says another celebrated French writer,t " The 
 more a man has dominion over himself, and 
 powerfully commands his different faculties, the 
 more by that very fact is he a tnan, the less is 
 he a thing. Man approaches to a thing, when 
 he neglects this dominion which it depends on 
 himself to assume ; when instead of taking pos- 
 session of his faculties, he abandons them to 
 their own operation, and continues idly slum- 
 bering in the midst of a mechanism, of which 
 all the springs have been placed under his 
 control." 
 
 Let us suppose a number of persons to arrive 
 during the night at a castle situated on an emi- 
 nence, commanding a view of an extensive and 
 beautiful country. This castle is furnished with 
 
 * Note F. f Theodore Jouffroy on the Faculties 
 
 of the Human Soul : p. 357. 
 
ATTENTION. 123 
 
 a variety of objects. There are pictures, statues, 
 music ; cabinets filled with whatever may invite 
 to research or study. Some of the apartments 
 are magnificent and luxurious, others are plain 
 and comfortable. At the rising of the sun, 
 should the windows of the castle be suddenly 
 opened and as quickly closed again, a confused 
 mass of objects would be presented to the sight 
 of the company, of which they could give no 
 account, so true it is that we may perceive 
 without obtaining knowledge. 
 
 We will now imagine the windows again 
 opened and to remain open all the day. Some of 
 the party rush to the windows, others wander 
 among the apartments in a sort of amazement, 
 and know very little more of the objects with 
 which they are surrounded at the close of the 
 day than they did at its commencement. They 
 will be in the condition of the two Esquimaux 
 Indians, who, after a walk through the streets 
 of London, sat down with their faces hid in 
 their hands, exclaiming, " too much smoke, too 
 much noise, too much houses, too much men, 
 too much every thing." The mind cannot fix 
 itself upon a variety of objects, so as to obtain 
 a definite or satisfactory knowledge of any. 
 
 But the company remain for a time occupants 
 of the castle, and become more or less acquainted 
 with its beauties and its wonders. Some ex- 
 
124 ATTENTION. 
 
 amine the bold outline of the scenery, the cloud- 
 capt mountains, the lofty forests and the flowing 
 stream ; others spend hours and days in admi- 
 ration of the pictures, the statuary and other 
 rarities, or hang entranced over the tones of the 
 harp or the organ ; some sit down over the 
 ponderous tomes in the well-assorted libraries, 
 themselves and all the world forgotten. A 
 great proportion of the visitors pass the time in 
 wandering from apartment to apartment, with 
 a slight notice of a multitude of objects, while 
 they examine none. Some few recline on the 
 luxurious couches in a sort of delicious enchant- 
 ment ; others, and those also a few, seek a quiet 
 corner in a secluded apartment and spend the 
 hours in social converse. 
 
 All these persons have the perceptions of 
 sense and the power of motion, whence then 
 this difference in the attention they give to the 
 objects of perception ? What prevents those 
 who are sauntering idly from sitting down to 
 the occupation of study ? why do not the dream- 
 ers examine the precious and curious objects 
 around them ? why do some seek the poetry of 
 nature, and others the intercourse of friendship? 
 You will answer because inclination prompts 
 each one to some particular object, and the 
 whole mind is bent or turned to that object or 
 subject ; it is the voluntary action of the mind 
 
ATTENTION. 125 
 
 under the influence of some motive, and this 
 voluntary action is attention. The involuntary 
 action of the mind is the simple perception of 
 objects and their qualities, or of subjects and 
 their relations, and the impression thus made 
 by objects or subjects is so slight that it is 
 scarcely retained ; but the voluntary action is 
 prompted by some motive, and the impression 
 remains ; this impression is remembrance. The 
 well known illustration of a person at study in 
 the room with a clock will help to make this 
 plain. The clock strikes, but the mind being 
 deeply engaged, the sound acts only upon the 
 involuntary perception of hearing, the voluntary 
 action of the mind is upon the contents of the 
 book, therefore the sound does not rest in the 
 memory. But should the person occupied with 
 study, have upon his mind an appointment for 
 a certain hour, in which he w^as much interested, 
 the first stroke of the clock would rouse him 
 from his occupation. The interest he felt in the 
 appointment would turn his attention to the 
 clock. 
 
 Attention is the first voluntary operation of 
 mind concerned in the acquirement of knowl- 
 edge. Without it ideas are not formed into 
 thought, they are unconnected and indistinct. 
 Attention forms them into conceptions more or 
 less varied ; these are secured by memory, con- 
 
126 ATTENTION. 
 
 nected by association, arranged by abstraction, 
 combined by imagination, examined by judg- 
 ment. In childhood objects of sense more read- 
 ily engage the attention than those in which the 
 understanding and reason alone are concerned ; 
 therefore is it that the young mind is so en- 
 grossed by whatever is showy and striking to 
 the senses. Glowing colours, uncommon forms, 
 moving objects, noisy sounds, immediately draw 
 the attention of children and youth. Every 
 teacher knows that the buzzing of a fly will dis- 
 tract a whole class while engaged in the most 
 interesting recitation, and many a preacher has 
 painfully witnessed the attention of some part 
 of his flock withdrawn from the . most mo- 
 mentous of all subjects, by the entrance of a 
 well-dressed stranger. 
 
 In most persons the attention is forcibly ar- 
 rested by the perceptions of sense, because they 
 stand out in bolder relief before the mind than 
 its internal perceptions ; also, because less 
 labour is necessary to see with the eye of the 
 body than with the eye of the mind. To the 
 question, do I exist ? the answer would be im- 
 mediate, yes, is not this body me 9 I see it with 
 my eyes, I touch it ; I know it to be myself. 
 But put the question in another form ; does 
 something called mind or spirit exist ? the truth 
 is not so apparent, the answer would require 
 
ATTENTION. 127 
 
 reflection. Consciousness, which belongs to 
 every intellectual being, would answer the 
 question, do I think ? but reflection which be- 
 longs only to those who attend to consciousness, 
 alone can answer, that this thinking part is mind 
 or spirit ; is immaterial. We may justly be said 
 to live in two states, the state of sensation and 
 the state of reflection. At an early period of 
 life it is exceedingly difficult to withdraw the 
 mind from the objects of sensation, and it re- 
 quires the utmost effort of attention to fix it on 
 purely intellectual subjects. Hence the diffi- 
 culty, of which every one is sensible, and youth 
 in particular, of meditation. The subject that 
 now engages us, the study of mind, is one of 
 deep interest, but for this reason one of peculiar 
 difficulty ; more difficult, even, than Geometry, 
 for there thought has sensible objects, lines and 
 figures, upon which to rest itself. The labour 
 necessary in fixing the attention on studies of 
 this nature, is often so discouraging to the indo- 
 lent minds of youth, that they abandon in de- 
 spair all the advantages of education. The 
 operations of reasoning being so much more 
 difficult to them than the exercise of the ima- 
 gination, which attaches itself to the objects of 
 sense, that they seek the food, craved by the 
 mind in the lighter works of fancy ; here like 
 the summer's insect on the wing, they wander 
 
128 ATTENTION. 
 
 from flower to flower, but gather nothing, and 
 when the winter of life overtakes them the 
 storehouse of thought is unfurnished. 
 
 The term genius to which we are apt to at- 
 tach too much or too little meaning is another 
 hindrance to youthful effort. A want of apti- 
 tude or quickness in the intellect, is often urged 
 as a reason for the neglect of application to 
 study. Slowness in the perception of a pupil 
 will sometimes so discourage the teacher that 
 he is ready to abandon all attempt at giving 
 instruction to such a one, and while the child, 
 in apparent stupidity, is making a strong effort 
 by means of attention to comprehend a lesson, 
 the teacher gives him up as a hopeless case of 
 dullness, and bends all his efforts to teach those 
 who make a greater display of ability. The 
 poor child thus discouraged can scarce ever 
 give an answer when a question is put to him, 
 either by his teacher, or his father, who ex- 
 amines him upon his studies at home. In the 
 mind of the parent the blame is often attached 
 to the teacher, and school after school is tried, 
 until the youth settles down into the stupidity 
 to which they have doomed him, unless some 
 accident draws him forth to new life, and a dis- 
 play of the native vigour of his understanding. 
 
 Some years since two boys were placed at 
 the same school, the one bright, forward and 
 
ATTENTION. 129 
 
 full of mischief; the other slow, unobtrusive 
 and easily repulsed. The first would dash 
 through any thing, and was the delight of his 
 teachers by his ready answers and quick con- 
 ceptions ; the last would attempt nothing that 
 he could not comprehend, and would give no 
 answer when he had no certain knowledge of 
 the subject ; when he had, his timidity prevented 
 a ready utterance. The teacher finding no dif- 
 ficulties in lessons that by repetition had become 
 to him perfectly familiar, considered it a waste 
 of time or useless to explain ; particularly as 
 some boys answered readily, and the modest 
 lad who in Arithmetic and Algebra longed for 
 explanation, which he dared not ask, was set. 
 down either as a dunce or as too indolent to 
 apply himself. He was thought to have no 
 genius. His heart often swelled with this neg- 
 lect, and much of the precious season of youth 
 was wasted. Circumstances in after years 
 threw him upon his own efforts, and the dull 
 boy, now the self-made man, turns out to be 
 the genius, while the bright youth, with all the 
 advantage of a college course, will probably 
 pass along the stream of life, an every day 
 character. Slowness in the intellectual percep- 
 tion is no sure mark of stupidity ; it is often the 
 effect of that deep attention which is unwilling 
 to leave any part of a subject without investi- 
 
130 ATTENTION. 
 
 gation ; in this case it is the precursor of strong 
 reflecting power, the attendant of absorbing 
 emotion, the certain accompaniment of genius. 
 Roger Ascham, an old English writer, says that 
 " sad-natured and hard-witted children are 
 among the best natures for learning." Nothing 
 is more certain than that they often repay, in a 
 fourfold degree, the patient attention of the 
 pains-taking teacher who has made human na- 
 ture his study. 
 
 To the young, every encouragement that may 
 induce to patient attention is held out in the 
 examples of great men whose first efforts have 
 seemed to promise very little. Fabius Maxi- 
 mus, who so often defeated the great Hannibal 
 in the second Punic war, and was five times 
 raised to the dignity of Consul, in his boyhood 
 was called the " little sheep," because of his 
 dulness and slowness in learning. The whole 
 history of this prudent general, whose mode of 
 warfare served as a model for our own Wash- 
 ington, exhibits habits of deep attention, re- 
 sulting in that caution which extricated him 
 from the difficulties into which rashness and 
 want of reflection so often involve men. James 
 Ferguson, an eminent philosopher, mechanist 
 and astronomer, was the son of a peasant. He 
 learned to read by listening to the instructions 
 given by his father to his elder brother ; and 
 
ATTENTION. 131 
 
 constructed a wooden clock without any knowl- 
 edge of mechanism. While employed as a 
 shepherd boy he studied the phenomena of the 
 heavens, and made a globe as he had before 
 made a watch. His patient attention to study 
 raised him to great eminence in London, where 
 he delivered public lectures, and ranked among 
 his hearers, the Prince of Wales, afterwards 
 George the Fourth. 
 
 It is related of Vaucanson, the celebrated 
 French mechanician, that when a boy he used 
 to attend his mother to the house of her con- 
 fessor, arid there, while she was engaged in her 
 religious duties, he remained in boyish wea- 
 riness in a hall, where the uniform motion 
 of a clock attracted his attention. He suc- 
 ceeded so well in the examination of its 
 mechanism, that after various efforts he pro- 
 duced a clock of his own workmanship. In 
 later years he acquired great celebrity for his 
 automata, of which among other remarkable 
 pieces is a flute-player, as large as life, seated 
 on a pedestal, containing a bellows within, by 
 means of which the wind is so driven up as to 
 move the lips and fingers of the automaton. 
 Goldsmith was very unpromising in youth, so 
 much so, that till late in life he was surprising 
 his friends with productions of which they 
 thought him incapable ; and Sheridan was pro- 
 
132 ATTENTION. 
 
 nounced by his mother, who was a literary 
 woman, to be the dullest of her sons. In after 
 life he was remarkable for his dramatic works 
 and finished oratory. 
 
 On our interest in a subject, and our desire 
 to understand it, depends our attention, and in 
 this sense genius probably is the result of a 
 strong application of the mind to one particular 
 subject. The emotions centre on one point to 
 which the attention is directed, and all the 
 mental powers under the controul of the will, 
 conception, memory, abstraction ; more espe- 
 cially imagination and judgment act upon it. 
 Be the subject music, the person not only be- 
 comes a skilful performer but a composer ; be 
 it mechanics, not only a good workman but an 
 inventor of machinery. What it is that prompts 
 the desire, or gives the aptitude for any partic- 
 ular pursuit of mind is beyond our knowledge : 
 " nature in some of her great operations has 
 kept her own secrets,'' the enquiry on our part 
 would be useless. Franklin attributes the cast 
 of his genius to reading a work of De Foe's, 
 entitled an Essay on Projects, " from which," 
 says he, " I have derived impressions that have 
 since influenced some of the principal events of 
 my life." Franklin was not a brilliant man, 
 but by patient attention and industry he became 
 great ; he was the genius of his age. Newton, 
 
ATTENTION. 133 
 
 whose discoveries in science will probably never 
 be surpassed, declared them to be the result of 
 " constant thinking ;" but his thoughts as we 
 learn from the accounts of his early years, were 
 directed to subjects of importance. While at 
 school when other boys were engrossed with their 
 sports, his mind was occupied either with me- 
 chanical operations in imitation of the works of 
 others, or with original conceptions of his own. 
 Witness his mill which he set in motion by the 
 power of a mouse enclosed in it ; his water- 
 clock, the index of which was turned by water 
 dropping on a piece of wood that moved the 
 hands ; his mechanical carriage moved by means 
 of a handle, wrought by the person who sat 
 in it. In these instances are discovered the 
 bent of mind in the great Newton while yet in 
 the days of childhood ; and though no record 
 is found of the improvement he made during 
 the three years he spent in his college course at 
 Cambridge, yet we find, that from some state- 
 ment left of his expenses at that time, he pur- 
 chased a prism, for the purpose of examining 
 Descartes' Theorv of Colours.* 
 
 mi 
 
 This example illustrates what is here meant 
 by genius, the whole mind bent or turned towards 
 some one subject ; the habit of thinking on that 
 subject becomes established, and thought like 
 
 * Life of Sir Isaac Newton, by Brewster. 
 
134 ATTENTION. 
 
 an inexhaustible fountain in the soul, is forever 
 bubbling up, with fresh and sparkling inven- 
 tions of its own. Those whose minds follow 
 the imaginative power from object to object, 
 may shine as the wits of the day, but they are 
 the little wits. Thousands of such spring up 
 in one century whose names are unknown in 
 the next : many of these might have been emi- 
 nent as poets, painters, philosophers, had they 
 fixed their minds on one point, until it. became 
 luminous in the light of reason. Pope says 
 with his usual asperity when woman is the 
 subject, 
 
 " Most women have no characters at all." 
 
 This severe satire is an undoubted truism, 
 and for the reason, that they are remarkably 
 deficient in habits of patient attention. The 
 first perceptions of their minds are directed to 
 the minutia of domestic concerns, so necessary 
 to the happiness of life ; and the system adopted 
 for their education has in a measure cut them 
 off from the studies that help to form character ; 
 even when such studies have been permitted, 
 the time allotted them in the pursuit of science, 
 has not been sufficient to establish such settled 
 habits of thought, as might in after life help them 
 to resist the vagaries of fancy. 
 
 Another, and perhaps the best reason why 
 female character so seldom takes a definite 
 
ATTENTION. 135 
 
 form, is because in the early years of life women 
 are the tenderest objects of human affection, 
 and thus perhaps, unconsciously to themselves, 
 and until the habit is formed and visible, un- 
 perceived by others, do their thoughts turn upon 
 themselves as the prominent objects of atten- 
 tion ; and reasoning, from this premise, draw- 
 ing a false conclusion, establishes them in the 
 fallacy that they are, or rather that each one is, 
 herself, the most important object in creation. 
 Here then the emotions centre on self, and one 
 who lives under this -delusion seeks for herself, 
 that which will best serve her own gratification ; 
 some seek the encreased admiration, others the 
 augmented affection of those around them. 
 
 In the above causes we find a reason why 
 the female sex seldom exhibits a finished clas- 
 sical scholar, such as Madame Dacier or Eliza- 
 beth Carter : or an ethical writer such as Han- 
 nah More ; or an eminent astronomer like Mrs. 
 Somerville ; yet these instances prove that nat- 
 ural ability is not wanting in woman for any 
 acquisition, in which mind alone is concerned. 
 Few like Marie of France, leave the splendid 
 realities of a court for the imagery of the pen- 
 cil ; yet, as in the example of Christina, Queen 
 of Sweden, it is seen, that the pomp of royalty 
 and the love of power, are not always sufficient, 
 even in the female mind, to extinguish the fire 
 
136 ATTENTION. 
 
 of genius, when blown to a flame by the fos- 
 tering care of parental instruction. This last 
 case indeed gives melancholy testimony that 
 knowledge is not always turned to good account, 
 yet it takes nothing from the proof that its ac- 
 quirement depends, not on the sex, but on the 
 industry of the individual. 
 
 Whoever will take the pains to attend to the 
 thoughts that flow through his own mind will 
 perceive that the current is perpetual. The per- 
 ceptions of the senses and association, present 
 to the mind idea after idea in an unbroken stream, 
 and no object of itself rests distinctly visible. 
 The intellect in this case is a chaos ; but reason 
 " the prerogative of man," voluntarily arrests 
 the wanderings of thought. The mind then 
 finds itself capable, not only of investigating 
 outward things but of retracing its own progress, 
 of retarding its own operations, and of forming 
 such habits of thought and action as in future 
 life may determine the character. This is the 
 right use of reason, and will undoubtedly form 
 a part of our moral accountability. When 
 thought is left to its own vagaries the knowledge 
 accumulated for ages will be of no use to the 
 mind. Heaps of treasure may be scattered 
 around, but he who opens not his hand to 
 gather, will never be the richer ; and the indo- 
 lent might starve where the industrious would 
 
ATTENTION. 137 
 
 have abundance. So it is with knowledge. 
 Teachers in vain expend their time and abilities 
 in giving instruction to those who are inatten- 
 tive ; for when the eyes are closed, though the light 
 may shine ever so brightly, no object is visible. 
 Thus is it with the mind. He who obstinately 
 shuts out knowledge must remain ignorant, and 
 endure the disgrace and the miseries of iano- 
 ranee. A foolish fancy may laugh at applica- 
 tion and declare it the drudgery of slaves, but 
 in this case we may well use the old proverb, 
 " let him who wins, laugh." The learned, the 
 amiable, the pious Pierre Huet, while at school 
 was much tormented by his companions on 
 account of his close attention to study when 
 they wished him to join in their sports. This 
 did not deter the courageous youth. " I rose," 
 said he, " before the sun, when they were all 
 asleep, and went into the woods to read and 
 study in quiet." The name of Huet, honoured 
 at the court of Louis XIV., has descended to 
 posterity, but where the names of those who 
 mocked him ? 
 
 Inattention to what is right, is a most common 
 fault, and strongly marks the moral degradation 
 of man. It is a voluntary refusal to exercise 
 the reason ; it is placing the rational being on a 
 level with the irrational ; and when it is found 
 to close the mind to the knowledge of Divine 
 
138 CONCEPTION. 
 
 Truth, the soul will indeed be doomed to end- 
 less darkness ! 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CONCEPTION. 
 
 Our senses, as we have seen, give us know- 
 ledge of all surrounding objects, consciousness 
 of the internal operations of thought and feel- 
 ing ; reason and conscience, as shall be here- 
 after explained, make us acquainted with truth, 
 necessary and moral. From these materials 
 the mind works up innumerable compounds of 
 thought ; attention as directed by the will, pre- 
 senting the materials ; the will being in some 
 way influenced by the emotions or feelings of 
 the soul. The eye by the faculty of sight sees 
 whatever object is placed before its vision ; so 
 the mind perceives the existence of whatever 
 is presented to it by any of the senses, as well 
 as by consciousness, or by reason. This is its 
 intelligence, which is analogous to sight in the 
 eye. The knowledge thus acquired may be 
 called ideas or perceptions. 
 
 The eye has the power of perceiving objects, 
 but those who shut their eyes will not see what 
 is placed before them, and those who have a 
 
CONCEPTION. 139 
 
 defect in vision do not distinguish with correct- 
 ness. The faculty of sight in the eye, then, is 
 one condition of the sensation, the will to see, is 
 another. The intelligence of the mind, and 
 attention to the objects or subjects brought be- 
 fore it, are the conditions of the impressions 
 made upon it. By reflecting a little upon what 
 passes within your own minds you will under- 
 stand what this means. A tree is an object 
 perceived by the sense of sight, if you shut 
 your eyes, you still have the object before you, 
 that is the idea or impression of a plant, with 
 trunk, branches, leaves, flowers and fruit. A 
 whole object, in its several parts, arranged, or 
 put together as the word Concipio means, stands 
 distinctly before the intelligence. This is Con- 
 ception. These perceptions are common to all 
 who have the sense of sight, but the distinct 
 impressions of objects, more especially com- 
 bined, as in a landscape, so that they may be 
 described by language or by the pencil, is the 
 property only of such as have given them 
 attention. 
 
 Any one who has the sense of hearing may 
 have the perception of every note of a tune, 
 though all have not so distinct an impression of 
 sounds connected, as to be able to sing a tune 
 or part of a tune after the music ceases. They 
 hear the notes but they have no conception of 
 
140 CONCEPTION. 
 
 the air remaining in the mind; while others 
 conceive it so strongly, that they can, not only 
 sing it, but without singing are able to run over 
 it in thought. Many persons have so little con- 
 ception of musical composition, that they would 
 not recognise a piece another time ; while again 
 there are those who knowing nothing of the exe- 
 cution or composition of music, can neverthe- 
 less distinguish by the character of the music 
 the productions of Beethoven and Mozart from 
 those of Rossini. Such conceptions are the 
 foundation of taste, and nearly allied to that 
 operation of mind, called imagination. 
 
 Consciousness gives to the mind a perception 
 of its own operations ; that is, we know that we 
 think ; but the actings of thought are not always 
 so distinct as to leave an impression that may 
 be recalled by the memory. The mind has no 
 conception of any connected train of thought. 
 Attention has been wanting. The idea of space 
 is the immediate conviction of reason, because 
 body being given, the mind immediately, ac- 
 knowledges space in which it is contained ; but 
 the conception of a boundless extent, filled with 
 an infinity of worlds is something more. A 
 mathematical axiom may at once be per- 
 ceived by the mind ; but the conception of a 
 demonstration founded upon it, is an operation 
 of the understanding demanding great attention. 
 
CONCEPTION. 141 
 
 From the above illustrations it will be seen 
 that Conception is the first effort of the volun- 
 tary action of the mind. The author of Home 
 Education, calls it the " snow-drop of the mind's 
 flower garden." Its beauty, accuracy and 
 strength depend somewhat upon the perfection 
 of the perceptive power, partly upon the emo- 
 tions that strongly rivet the attention to one 
 subject until it has been completely examined, 
 and in part to its cultivation from early years. 
 The mind may be aptly compared to a store- 
 house, furnished by the senses and by reason 
 with a vast variety of ideas that lie in confu- 
 sion until arranged into conceptions or distinct 
 thoughts. Many a person when brought to at- 
 tend to a subject, exclaims I might have known 
 all that before, but I never thought of it ; and 
 this is true. The act of attention is the condi- 
 tion of thought. 
 
 Conception in children is seen at an early 
 age in their recollection of objects. The infant 
 at four months has a conception of the form and 
 face of his mother and of his relation to her, 
 that makes him spring to meet her, and cling 
 to her bosom should a stranger attempt to take 
 him ; also of the objects and persons about him, 
 so that he screams with terror when carried to 
 another house. The expression " he knows" is 
 applied to this first operation of the infant mind, 
 
142 CONCEPTION. 
 
 which is hailed with delight as the budding of 
 the imperishable intellect. The busy operation 
 of the conceptive power in children never ceases, 
 either waking or sleeping ; in dreams they are 
 occupied with their sports and their playthings, 
 as the incoherent expressions of sleep often indi- 
 cate. The little bdy is as much engaged in 
 inventing new plays, as in after life he will be 
 in the speculations of interest or in the labours 
 of benevolence. He sets up his carriage in his 
 mother's parlour, and enacts in playful mim- 
 icry the shopkeeper, the doctor, and even the 
 minister ; while his little sister, in a further 
 corner, arranges her housekeeping with minute 
 exactness, copying out the picture she carries 
 in her mind of her dear mother's management. 
 A striking lesson is this to the mother, inculca- 
 ting watchfulness over herself, lest by careless- 
 ness or misjudgment on her part, she lay the 
 foundation in her daughter of misconception as 
 to the important affairs of life. This is seldom 
 rectified by experience and judgment in after 
 years, for the first feelings of the heart being the 
 strongest, reason seldom breaks up the fond 
 associations that cling around it. The mother's 
 tones, the mother's words and manners r and 
 indeed all her actions are impressed in living 
 imagery upon the •conception of her child ; for 
 the attention being at that period particularly 
 
CONCEPTION. 143 
 
 awake, these impressions are consigned to the 
 keeping of the memory, and are thus retained 
 to the latest hour of life. In proof of this, is 
 the well-known fact, that the remembrance of 
 the aged carries them more frequently to some 
 sport or taste of their early youth, than to the 
 enjoyments of middle years. Their first con- 
 ceptions being connected with the fresh and 
 vivid emotions of the heart, remain in the mind 
 drawn in living characters, while the things that 
 passed but yesterday before the obtuse percep- 
 tion, have already faded from the remembrance 
 like the unreal figures of an evening mist. 
 
 Conception during the early years of childhood, 
 is not unlike the impression that beings purely 
 animal have of objects, and the variety we ob- 
 serve in the mental progress of children is 
 traced, in most cases, for allowance must be 
 made for peculiar aptness, to the training they 
 receive. Where we see one bright boy, who, 
 like Michael Angelo, or La Caille, emancipate 
 himself from the thraldom of repressed genius, 
 we see hundreds whose feelings, views, and 
 pursuits, are directed by paternal authority, or 
 influence. Michael Angelo, being forbidden by 
 his noble relatives, who thought themselves 
 thus disgraced, the use of the pencil, flew to 
 the chisel ; and La Caille, one whose name, as 
 an astronomer, filled all Europe, being beaten 
 
144 CONCEPTION. 
 
 by his father the parish clerk, because he wasted 
 his time in observing the stars from the steeple, 
 when sent to ring the bell, wept in bitterness of 
 soul but could not desist. These children 
 afford instances of the strong promptings of 
 mental nature, the precursor of genius, but such 
 instances are rare, for it seems ordained by 
 Providence that children should depend on 
 their parents for the provision of the nourish- 
 ment necessary for the mind, as well as for the 
 body. 
 
 A faint or weak conception of the subjects 
 that employ the more intellectual powers of 
 thought, is often occasioned by the neglect of 
 parents, or by the improper training of teachers 
 in early youth. A little one applies to its mo- 
 ther or teacher for the explanation of something 
 that strikes his attention, and is repelled with 
 the chilling remark that he is troublesome, or 
 that children should not ask so many ques- 
 tions. Curiosity or desire of knowledge being 
 often thus repressed, the child after a time de- 
 sists from his enquiries, and seeks no more to 
 know the reason of things ; thus is the mind 
 deprived of the nourishment requisite for its 
 expansion, and remains in almost infantile 
 feebleness, through the impatience, the indo- 
 lence, or the ignorance of those whose chief 
 business ought to be its cultivation. Alas that 
 
CONCEPTION* 145 
 
 mothers should be so careful to provide good soil, 
 and air, and light, and moisture for the plants that 
 decorate their parlours, and which gratify them 
 with a passing bloom, or transient fragrance; 
 while they neglect to cultivate the minds of the 
 lovely and intelligent beings who owe to them 
 existence ; beings who are destined to be the 
 friends and supporters of their declining years, 
 to occupy their places in society, when they 
 shall have returned to dust ; minds whose des- 
 tiny to good or evil shall roll along the countless 
 ages of eternity ! 
 
 The unfolding intellect needs the skillful 
 training of a patient, discreet and intelligent 
 preceptor ; this first instructor should be the 
 one whom nature and Providence have pro- 
 vided. The mother being the first mover of 
 the budding affections, ought herself to be the 
 most fitting object to fix the attention of the 
 opening intellect. Her appearance, in person 
 and manners should give to the mind of her 
 child ideas of neatness, propriety, and delicacy. 
 The tones of her voice should hush in his young 
 heart the strife of angry passion, which in her 
 ought never to appear, even in the flashing of 
 the eye, or the flushing of the cheek. Her lan- 
 guage in the most playful mood should be the 
 expression of truth clothed with refinement ; 
 
 for never should a mother or teacher allow her- 
 10 
 
146 CONCEPTION. 
 
 self the habit of vulgarity in tone, in word, or 
 in manner, that may remain in coarse and in- 
 delible marks upon the conception of the youth- 
 ful mind. The mother or teacher while thus 
 placing before the perceptive faculty of the 
 child, such objects as are best calculated to give 
 him conceptions of beauty, delicacy and order, 
 should make it a duty and a study to lead him 
 to reflection ; training his mind to the examina- 
 tion of the qualities of objects, while she ex- 
 plains to his comprehension their relations to 
 each other ; and thus truths, grasped by his 
 understanding, will be connected in their proper 
 harmony and order, and firmly fasten themselves 
 upon his memory. 
 
 The exercise of the memory on words alone 
 is very injurious to the cultivation of the intel- 
 lect. Words being only the signs of ideas, 
 unless these ideas have already been received 
 into the mind, convey to it no meaning. Speak 
 to a person who does not understand French, 
 the word chapeau, and it will not express to 
 him the idea of hat, which is its meaning : so 
 let a child learn from his Geography, that lati- 
 tude is a line running parallel with the equator 
 quite round the surface of the globe, and you might 
 as well speak to him in Latin or Greek; or, 
 that a noun is the name of any thing that exists, 
 and has number, gender and case, and he is 
 
CONCEPTION. 147 
 
 utterly confounded. Without explanation this 
 would not be comprehended by an unlearned 
 person of mature years ; and when children are 
 obliged to commit to memory innumerable 
 sentences of this kind, which to them convey no 
 signification, is it to be wondered at, that learning 
 becomes to their active and enquiring spirits, a 
 drudgery not to be endured ? 
 
 By this kind of teaching, which calls for little 
 effort and less knowledge, on the part of the 
 instructor, is the intellect, except in some very 
 extraordinary cases, irreparably injured. The 
 memory will be crowded with useless lumber ; 
 the imagination cannot be true to nature, be- 
 cause nature has not been in its glorious and 
 refined beauty, accurately impressed upon the 
 conception. The judgment will not be in ac- 
 cordance with truth, because truth has never by 
 it been examined ; the mind has indeed enquired 
 what is truth, but to the enquiry, though made 
 with intense eagerness, no answer has been given. 
 Let parents and teachers tremble at the effects 
 of such error ; for the mind craves knowledge as 
 the body craves food, and lamentable may be the 
 consequences if this thirst for learning be not 
 gratified and supplied from pure and wholesome 
 fountains. Who can tell what abundant sorrows 
 had been spared our daughters, if their minds, 
 when most susceptible of impressions, had been 
 
148 CONCEPTION. 
 
 richly furnished with the truths of science and 
 religion ; if they had nourished themselves with 
 the facts presented by nature and by reason, in- 
 stead of feeding their imaginations on the husks 
 of vanity and fiction ? Who can calculate the 
 beneficial results, had our sons, while employed 
 in storing their memories with the declensions of 
 nouns and the conjugation of verbs in unknown 
 tongues, been also furnished with knowledge 
 that might have interested and refined their 
 minds ; with truth that might have elevated 
 their feelings and led them to respect them- 
 selves and their instructors ? But light is 
 breaking upon us, and future generations will 
 doubtless hail this period as a new era in the 
 history of mind. 
 
 The conceptions derived from the percep- 
 tions of the senses, are those which first occupy 
 the mind, and some of the senses leave upon it 
 more vivid impressions than others. The senses 
 of taste and smell, belonging more to the ani- 
 mal than to the intellectual part of our nature, 
 give in general but slight conceptions to the 
 mind ; though the conceptions of sensible ob- 
 jects are more or less vivid as the senses are 
 more or less acute. Touch, which seems con- 
 cerned in present examination, scarce leaves 
 any conception upon which the memory can 
 fasten ; and in this part of our mental constitu- 
 
CONCEPTION. 149 
 
 tion is seen a remarkable instance of a benefi- 
 cial provision made for us by nature ; for should 
 the sensations that belong to feeling or touch 
 remain indelibly impressed upon the mind, how 
 augmented would be the miseries of life, in the 
 recollection of the pains we had endured, and 
 in the anticipation of their recurrence. 
 
 The conceptions produced by hearing are strong 
 and lively. Of this every singer is an instance, 
 having the ability to repeat mentally, that is 
 without utterance, any air that he can sing. 
 But in the blind, the conception of sound is 
 strikingly vivid, as in the case of the blind lady 
 noticed on another occasion, who so intimately 
 associated the person and the voice, that after 
 the lapse of years the first tones would cause 
 her to pronounce a name that by others was 
 scarce remembered, How wonderful is the 
 mind that loses nothing important, even in the 
 failure of the bodily organs, for though, as in 
 the case of blindness, to be deprived of the 
 conception of colouring, and what is thought to 
 be beauty in objects, be considered a great 
 misfortune, it is after all, an imaginary one ; 
 for the blind have not the conception of any 
 such privation. Our conceptions of beauty de- 
 pend chiefly upon our associations ; a striking 
 illustration of which is mentioned by Alison in 
 his Essays on Taste, in the case of the poet 
 
150 CONCEPTION. 
 
 Blacklock, who was blind from infancy. His 
 poetry is full of the imagery used by other 
 poets, having from listening to reading and 
 conversation learned the same associations. To 
 the word white he applies the conception of 
 innocence, to black that of gloom and melan- 
 choly, to purple that of majesty. "It is ob- 
 vious," says Alison, " that he may feel the same 
 emotions from the use of these words, that we 
 do from the colours they express." How be- 
 neficent is this provision for the welfare of the 
 intelligent soul, that a defect in its organic per- 
 ceptions may be thus, more than compensated, 
 by its own intellectual power. How much you 
 are to be pitied said a person to a pious blind 
 woman, who had once enjoyed sight. Rather 
 to be envied was the answer : true I see not the 
 glorious beauty of nature, neither am I pained 
 by the folly and and wretchedness around me, 
 and more than this I have in my mind, a world 
 perfect in loveliness ; I see not the light of the 
 sun, but I behold the Sun of Righteousness ; 
 and my soul is full of light. 
 
 Among the perceptions of sense those that 
 depend on sight, leave the strongest impressions 
 upon the mind. Who is there that cannot place 
 before himself the scenes which delighted his 
 childhood ? Within himself he finds the living 
 picture. Hereis the old stone dwelling in which 
 
CONCEPTION. 151 
 
 passed the joyous years of playful infancy and 
 happy youth, there the long alleys, the scene of 
 many a sportive frolic. Here the spreading 
 willow and the grassy mound where he reclined 
 with his books, conning the next day's task, or 
 in later years with the chosen friend of youth ; 
 yonder the village church where his thoughts 
 first took devotional form, and the old bridge 
 tottering over the stream that awoke the poetic 
 fancy of his unskilful muse. The strength of 
 such impressions is felt, when in the lapse of 
 years the wanderer returns to the abode of his 
 youth, and finds a modern edifice raised where 
 once stood the home so endeared to fond re- 
 membrance ; the trees, fallen under the axe, 
 have made room for a gay parterre, the quiet 
 stream now turns the machinery of a cotton 
 manufactory, and a railroad conveys an innu- 
 merable multitude through the groves and mea- 
 dows, once the delightful scene of his solitary 
 rambles. Conceptions, vivid as are here de- 
 scribed, may be called the poetry of mind, and, 
 when imagination makes them its own, com- 
 bining them with unreal imagery, they become 
 the foundation of the fine arts, and the subjects 
 of taste. 
 
 The conception of sensible objects greatly 
 assist the mind in abstract study : in the cal- 
 culation of numbers, figures and algebraic char- 
 
152 CONCEPTION. 
 
 acters they fix the attention ; so do lines and 
 circles in geometry. Problems, globes, orre- 
 ries and maps are not only useful, but necessary 
 to the learner, in the sciences of astronomy and 
 geography ; and pictures give great assistance 
 in teaching not only natural history, but the 
 history of events. Of this any one may judge 
 who has seen West's painting of the scene on 
 Calvary. Allied to this kind of painting is the 
 historical romance, drama, or epic poem. In 
 these productions of the imagination, events 
 and characters are made to pass before the eye 
 of the mind, and so vivid is its conception of 
 the difficulties, dangers and sorrows of persons 
 long since removed from the scenes of earth, 
 as to fill it with indignation and the heart with 
 sympathy for those who are forever beyond 
 their reach. 
 
 Language is a sensible form given to thought, 
 words being the signs or symbols of ideas, and 
 may be used, as seen above, in such a manner 
 as to produce correct knowledge and aid the 
 truth, or so distort the truth, as to be to man- 
 kind the most fruitful source of mischief. The 
 eloquence of St. Paul, made Felix tremble on 
 the judgment-seat, while he set in strong array 
 before the mind of the unjust judge, the judg- 
 ment to which he was soon to be called. Ora- 
 tory is an outward expression, by words, of what 
 
CONCEPTION. 153 
 
 passes through the mind of the orator, aided by 
 the tones, the gestures and the varying coun- 
 tenance. Thus are the thoughts or rather feel- 
 ings of the soul pictured out more vividly than 
 can be done on canvass or in writing ; for this 
 is the imagery of nature itself, and thus does 
 one mind impress itself upon other minds, so 
 forcibly, that by it may they be turned to any 
 purpose, good or evil. In this way did Peter 
 the Hermit move all Europe to a sudden phrensy, 
 and a countless multitude left their fair homes 
 and transported themselves to distant lands, 
 upon what now appears to us, a fruitless and 
 foolish expedition. 
 
 None but those who understand or feel their 
 subject can write so as to make it understood 
 or felt by others. In order to teach to good 
 purpose, the instructor must have a distinct or 
 clear conception of what he wishes to impress 
 upon the minds of pupils ; and his language be 
 adapted to the understanding of those he would 
 instruct. Should he speak to children or to the 
 unlearned in terms the meaning of which they 
 have never learned, he might as well address 
 them in an unknown tongue. In addressing 
 such, language should be simple to suit their 
 conceptions, not low or coarse, lest low or vul- 
 gar conceptions be left upon their minds. The 
 impressions made upon the infant mind by un- 
 
154 CONCEPTION. 
 
 refined and ungrammatical language are never 
 effaced : such terms are adopted by children in 
 their own discourse, and in their associations 
 with the fond endearments of first affection, 
 become so strong a habit, that the utmost re- 
 finement of education in after life never com- 
 pletely wears it out. Language leaves not 
 only its accustomed expression on the tongue, 
 not only does it give a form to thought, but it 
 gives or originates thought itself. The child or 
 youth who is so circumstanced as to hear coarse 
 or profane language, soon begins to use the 
 same, and his thoughts take their colouring from 
 his speech ; he becomes vulgar and profane. Of 
 this we find a noticeable instance in one of the 
 most refined nations of modern Europe. The 
 careless or common use of the name of the Su- 
 preme Being is remarkable among them. It is 
 heard in all companies, on all occasions, by 
 persons of every age and sex : whether occu- 
 pied in business or in amusement, in devotion 
 or in exclamation ; all use, solemnly or lightly, 
 the same holy Name ; and perhaps in no coun- 
 try is religion and its sacred obligatioas so little 
 reverenced. 
 
 The above observations tend to illustrate the 
 force of habit. Habit is acquired by means of 
 a frequent repetition of any one action bodily 
 or mental ; its design in our natural constitution 
 
CONCEPTION. 155 
 
 appears to be to enable us to do things, that in 
 themselves are difficult without the labour of re- 
 flection. Great labour and attention is indispen- 
 sable on the part of the child in his first attempts 
 to walk, and then how slow are his movements, 
 although rapid motion in him is natural. Were 
 it necessary through life to continue to exercise 
 this same attention and care in walking, what 
 inconvenience would it be to us, and what a 
 hindrance in the daily routine of our affairs. 
 How many things must be left undone, what 
 little progress would be made in the business 
 of a life that already seems too short for the 
 work allotted it. Against this difficulty has our 
 Creator provided in the constitution of mind as 
 well as of body. The custom of turning the 
 attention to any one subject of thought enables 
 the mind after awhile to overcome any diffi- 
 culty that may at first be perceived in the sub- 
 ject ; and when at liberty, the mind naturally 
 recurs to it, until the subject identifies itself, 
 not pnly with the thoughts, but with the warm 
 affections of the soul, and if pursued, becomes 
 its absorbing passion. Thus the constant exer- 
 cise of the imagination renders it so easy and 
 agreeable, that persons give up a life-time to 
 this operation of thought ; witness Lord Byron 
 and Sir Walter Scott. The Waverley Novels 
 alone comprise thirty-two different works. 
 
156 CONCEPTION. 
 
 Some persons abandon themselves to the con- 
 ceptions of forms and colours in objects, and to 
 their distribution into groups ; some to the ar- 
 rangement of harmonious sounds. The first 
 are forever detecting irregularities and observing 
 beauties ; they become painters or amateurs ; 
 such persons might make a voyage to Europe 
 for the sake of examining the productions of a 
 Corregio or a RafTaelle. The latter would aban- 
 don every other study for that of music, and 
 might perhaps be brought to the choice of the 
 country chorister, who declared that the per- 
 formance of the minister was in point of impor- 
 tance to be accounted after that of the choir. 
 Others direct their attention to incongruous and 
 ludicrous relations ; this habit becomes strong, 
 perhaps because the emotion of laughter con- 
 nected with it excites the vanity or self-conceit 
 of the witty person ; so that in time he sees a 
 witticism where another would perceive a sol- 
 emn truth, and he is disposed to laugh, where 
 those of sober judgment and moral feeling would 
 weep. Such propensities "will not readily be 
 restrained in the solemnities of public worship 
 or of private devotion." 
 
 It is comparatively easy to fix the mind on 
 subjects connected with sensible objects, espe- 
 cially on such as give delight to the imagination ; 
 even the dead languages and the mathematical 
 
CONCEPTION. 157 
 
 sciences are mastered by help of the signs of 
 words and figures ; but in the studies that be- 
 long to pure intellect is the effect of habit most 
 noticeable. It is difficult to contemplate a sub- 
 ject abstracted from all sensible objects, there- 
 fore do such studies as are termed metaphysical, 
 require the habit of patient and laborious atten- 
 tion. To enter by reflection into one's own 
 bosom, to bring one's own own thoughts in re- 
 view, is no eas} r , but a most profitable labour. 
 The act of meditation can be performed only 
 after repeated trials ; it must become a habit of 
 the mind. It was thus that David meditated 
 in the night-watches with much delight ; seven 
 times a day did he thus abstract his thoughts 
 from the vanities which are found, even in roy- 
 alty ; and raised his mind, and heart to Him, 
 whose glories no eye has ever beheld, but whom 
 the human intellect can conceive. Here is 
 the true use of the understanding ; all its 
 conceptions of harmony and beauty, all its so 
 prized scientific abstractions, dwindle to nothing 
 before man's ability to know himself and his 
 Creator. Here indeed does the human intellect 
 ally itself to that of superior natures. It may 
 be that the Uncreated God has never made 
 Himself visible to the highest spirits that sur- 
 round His throne, but they conceive of Him 
 
158 CONCEPTION. 
 
 from His ineffable glory, and veil their faces 
 while they cry, Holy, Holy, Holy !* 
 
 Though all are sensible that thought in a 
 continued stream passes through the mind, yet 
 all are not aware of the importance of directing 
 it aright. A good deal of thought may be ex- 
 pended on the selection of attire suitable for a 
 ball-room, and the conception of such an ar- 
 rangement might be in itself as perfect and ex- 
 hibit as much good taste, as the conception a 
 painter has of a historical picture, or the con- 
 ception of an architect in the formation of a 
 piece of mechanism, or the conception of a 
 poet in the plot of a drama or the machinery of 
 an Epic ; but these subjects of thought are not 
 of equal importance, nor are any of them of the 
 highest importance ; none of them compare with 
 the plans we might devise for the happiness of 
 those around us, or with the considerations that 
 relate to our duties as moral and immortal crea- 
 tures. When we consider that the intellect, 
 vast enough to conceive immensity, sufficiently 
 active to return to the beginnings of all things, 
 to descend along the tracts of time, connecting 
 the chain of past and present events, and able 
 to penetrate into the future ; that this intellect 
 which measures itself with the mighty minds 
 * Note G. 
 
CONCEPTION. 159 
 
 of past and present existence, is ours : ours, 
 either to waste, as will directs, upon the trifles, 
 lighter than a feather of the passing moment, 
 or to turn upon subjects of useful or of lofty im- 
 port ; we must tremble in view of such respon- 
 sibility. 
 
 My young friends, the power you have of 
 perceiving and of thinking is bestowed upon you 
 by the Eternal Mind. Holy Writ has said 
 " there is a spirit in man, and the inspiration 
 of the Almighty giveth them understanding." 
 Job 27, 8. Nor only is understanding given, 
 sufficient to enable you to conceive objects in 
 their variety, beauty, extent and utility, but 
 you are capable of directing your knowledge to 
 useful purposes. Not only able by the percep- 
 tions of sense to conceive of material things, so, 
 that your existence may be rendered useful and 
 happy ; but by the higher endowments of intel- 
 lect, you are enabled to look at your own imma- 
 terial nature, to fathom the depths of thought 
 in your own bosoms : still more, you are ren- 
 dered capable of reaching in your conception 
 the Infinite and Eternal Intelligence. You 
 cannot indeed comprehend the nature of His 
 existence, nor understand the wisdom of His 
 Providence, but you may look at the glories 
 of His Grace in the Gospel of His Son. Here, 
 to understand, to believe, and to adore, is the 
 
160 MEMORY. 
 
 highest direction of your intellectual souls ; for 
 the object of your being was thus to show forth 
 the glory of your Creator. Oh, if intellect so 
 amazing be not directed to its highest purpose, 
 who can tell, how it may be employed, when, 
 divested of all sensible resource, it shall be left 
 to the strongest conception of its moral and 
 irremediable degradation ! 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 My young friends, in placing before you 
 illustrations of some of the leading facts that 
 belong to this branch of study, I would but draw 
 you to a deeper research, and induce you to 
 read such works as may give you better assist- 
 ance in the developement of the understanding 
 and the formation of character. 
 
 We have already shown that the soul of man 
 is a created and free intelligence, brought by its 
 union with the body into a world filled with an 
 immense variety of objects ; here relations innu- 
 merable exist between matter and its proper- 
 ties, between these objects and mind itself; 
 between mind and mind, between this world 
 and worlds conceived. The perceptive power 
 
MEMORY. 161 
 
 of the intellect naturally beholds whatever is 
 presented to its observation, but the multitude 
 of objects and of truths thus presented, would 
 pass before it, as the figures of a phantasma- 
 goria flit before the eye, appearing for a mo- 
 ment and disappearing forever, were not some 
 of them arrested by attention, and retained for 
 future use by memory. The intelligence of the 
 mind and its power of conception would be 
 useless, had it no ability to retain knowledge 
 thus acquired, and impressions thus received. 
 
 It is sometimes asserted that persons of strong 
 imaginative or reasoning power, such as Shaks- 
 peare and Franklin, are deficient in remem- 
 brance ; but how can this be ? How can 
 the mind weave its own fancies into realities 
 unless the imagery vividly impressed upon the 
 conception be also engraved upon the memory t 
 How could a man like Franklin or Newton carry 
 on a train of reasoning drawn from some simple 
 fact, without remembering, not only what he 
 had noticed, but also his own reflections on the 
 fact, together with a multitude of similar ob- 
 servations ? The power which retains intellec- 
 tual perceptions must be much greater than that 
 which holds merely the ideas derived from the 
 objects of the senses ; for such ideas are per- 
 petually returned by association to the mind. 
 
 The person who remembers the conceptions of 
 11 
 
162 MEMORY. 
 
 the pure intellect, has without doubt a better 
 memory than one who can fix the event to every 
 date in a chronological table, or he who can 
 repeat every word of a .discourse he has heard 
 pronounced. 
 
 That exercise of attention concerned in 
 committing to memory, words, which are only 
 the symbols of thought, cannot be as laborious 
 and as profitable to the mind as attention exer- 
 cised in combining, arranging and treasuring up 
 thought itself. Intellect thus employed may, 
 and probably will, draw from its own stores, 
 wealth more precious than the jewels of the 
 East, and enrich the world with knowledge, 
 enduring as time itself. How do such men as 
 Newton and Franklin, Dr. Paley and Bishop 
 Butler compare with Magliabecchi, who, after 
 having perused a manuscript could write down 
 every word, without even forgetting the pecu- 
 liarities of the spelling ? He was a walking 
 library, most convenient for authors to consult, 
 but what were the fruits of such labours ? he 
 wrote and published a catalogue ! Or how do 
 they compare with Longuerue, who at the age 
 of fourteen, was already acquainted with all the 
 dead languages, as well as the modern ones of 
 Europe, commenced the Oriental, and who in the 
 facts belonging to History, Chronology and 
 Geography was the oracle of Paris ? Of his 
 
MEMORY. 163 
 
 labours remain a Latin dissertation and a his- 
 torical description of France, written very inac- 
 curately from memory. These works and the 
 memorial of the above remarkable men flourish 
 in the records of a biographical Dictionary,* 
 while the discoveries of Newton and Franklin, 
 the reasonings of Paley and Butler, will furnish 
 subjects for the further operations of thought 
 most important, as long as the conception and 
 memory of things terrestrial endure. 
 
 Upon observation we find that the ideas 
 retained by the memory of some, are not so 
 retained by others, as in the above instances. 
 Some remember objects, places and names ; 
 others events and dates ; others again facts and 
 observations, or causes and effects. Coleridge 
 says of himself, " I have read all the famous 
 histories, and, I believe some history of every 
 country and nation that is, or ever existed, but 
 I never did so for the story itself as a story. 
 The only thing interesting to me was the prin- 
 ciples to be evolved from and illustrated by the 
 facts. After I had gotten my principles, I pretty 
 generally left the facts to take care of themselves. 
 I could never remember any passages in books, 
 or the particulars of events, except in the gross. 
 I can refer to them. To be sure I must be a 
 
 * Dictionnaire Historique par une societe des gens des 
 lettres. 
 
164 MEMORY. 
 
 different sort of man from Herder, who once 
 was seriously annoyed with himself, because in 
 recounting the pedigree of some German or 
 electoral family, he missed one of those worthies 
 and could not recall the name." But to account 
 for this we have only to call to mind what has 
 been noticed of conception, for memory is only 
 the faculty of retaining the thoughts, or impres- 
 sions of the mind. The feelings or affections rule 
 over those operations of mind that depend on the 
 will ; whatever affects us either painfully or the 
 contrary, draws and fixes the attention ; the con- 
 ception of it becomes vivid, the remembrance for 
 a while continued, and the recollection easy. 
 
 Memory perhaps may be considered an ori- 
 ginal power of the mind, employed in recording 
 the knowledge gained by its perceptions : but 
 the record is not always present to the percep- 
 tive faculty. When held there by the continu- 
 ance of some emotion, or otherwise, it is termed 
 remembrance ; when brought up by reflection, 
 or by habit, it is called recollection or reminis- 
 cence. Thus it may be seen that memory, in 
 itself, is an involuntary state of the mind, and 
 the expression, inscribed on the tablets of mem- 
 ory is figuratively correct : but remembrance 
 and recollection are voluntary actions of the 
 memory, when they depend on attention and 
 habit ; when on the association of accidental 
 
MEMORY. 165 
 
 causes, involuntary. Hence it is supposed by 
 some who have written on this subject that the 
 mind never loses its hold on any idea brought 
 to it by perception. This supposition is founded 
 in the nature of mind itself, being immaterial 
 and immortal, and seems to be substantiated 
 by the observation of facts. 
 
 Dreams frequently bring back scenes, per- 
 sons, and even thoughts, which for years have 
 seemed forgotten. It is related of James I. of 
 England, that when seated on the throne of that 
 kingdom, he was once terrified in a dream by 
 the frowning countenance of his tutor Buchanan, 
 whom in his imagination he vainly endeavoured 
 to pacify. The case of persons who have been 
 rescued from drowning is remarkable. During 
 the short period of consciousness that under the 
 water precedes insensibility, it is said that the 
 conceptions of the mind are recalled with ama- 
 zing vividness. The beauties of field and sky, 
 the song of birds, the voices and countenances 
 of friends, with the actions of their past lives pre- 
 sent themselves to the drowning person in great 
 minuteness. Many instances of this nature are 
 on record, but the experience of almost every 
 one, at some period of life, will testify to the fact, 
 that delirium, or dreams, or association will bring 
 to mind events and feelings that for years have 
 slumbered in the recesses of the memory. 
 
166 MEMORY. 
 
 Coleridge said when near his end, " I am 
 dying. Is it not strange that very recently, 
 by-gone images and scenes of early life have 
 stolen into my mind, like breezes blown from 
 the spice-islands of youth and hope.* 
 
 The recollection or remembrance may be in 
 our power, but forgetfulness is not. One offered 
 to teach Themistocles the art of memory, but 
 this he refused, saying he would rather he should 
 teach him to forget. It is related of a person 
 that the continual recurrence of a profane ex- 
 pression which came to his mind associated in 
 Divine service with the name of God, so dis- 
 turbed him as to cause madness. We may 
 turn our attention from a subject, and thus dis- 
 miss it for a time, but memory retains what has 
 once been impressed on the mind, and associa- 
 tion will probably, at some future time, recall it. 
 
 The mind receives and retains impressions 
 or ideas involuntarily, but attention is the vol- 
 untary action that directs it more especially to 
 one object or subject than to another. As an 
 illustration of this, let us suppose that two 
 young persons of different taste, attend some 
 agreeable assemblage, and afterwards narrate 
 to a party of their friends what they have ob- 
 served and recollect. One describes with mi- 
 nuteness all the ceremonies of the introduction ; 
 
 * Table Talk. 
 
MEMORY. 167 
 
 also the colours, the materials, and the fashion 
 of the dress of each assistant, not omitting to 
 tell the particular kind of ornament, whether 
 pearls, topaz or diamond worn by each lady. 
 She will recollect a smile bestowed upon one, 
 a bow upon another, a word upon a third ; while 
 the friend who accompanied her to this enter- 
 tainment brings home very little, except the re- 
 membrance of some animated discussion be- 
 tween two persons of eminence on a subject ap- 
 pertaining to science or morality. Of this per- 
 haps she will be able to recollect much of what 
 was said by each speaker, together with the 
 accompanying tones and gestures. 
 
 In the first case we have the recollections of 
 a common or vain mind, in the second those of 
 one that is intellectual. The perceptions of the 
 first being altogether sensitive, have left upon 
 her mind the conceptions of beauty, magnifi- 
 cence and fashion ; the most interesting of in- 
 tellectual or moral topics would not have with- 
 drawn her attention from the splendour that 
 surrounded her ; but the cultivated mind of the 
 other dwelt so slightly on these things, that the 
 recollection, whether the lady who sat next her 
 wore feathers or flowers, pearls or diamonds, 
 might have been very indistinct. Both these 
 young persons have the powers of perception, 
 of memory, and of association ; but the mind of 
 
168 MEMORY. 
 
 the one is coarse and sensitive, that of the other 
 refined and intellectual. The attention of each 
 was directed to such objects as most interested 
 her, and conceptions in accordance were im- 
 pressed upon their memories, so that recollec- 
 tion brought them forth in detail. 
 
 Emotion, as we have already seen, is the 
 foundation of attention, therefore whenever we 
 are strongly interested in any thing we rarely 
 forget it. The man who wrote in his memo- 
 randum book, " Note: I must be married when 
 I come to Tours," had very little affection for 
 or aversion to his intended wife. Montaigne, 
 when complaining of his forge tfulness says, " I 
 am forced to call the men who serve me by the 
 names of their offices ; it has befallen me to 
 forget where I had put my purse." A mother 
 would scarcely forget the name of her child, 
 neither would a miser forget where he had put 
 his purse. Bat Montaigne as we find in his 
 history,* thought much of himself and his plea- 
 sures, and probably knew his cook and valet 
 better in their professional characters, than as 
 men ; and as it appears, he was too careless of 
 his expenditures to be careful of his purse. 
 Though a learned man, and a great philoso- 
 pher, he speaks much of himself, and seems 
 
 * Essai Historique sur la vie des moralistes modernes. 
 
MEMORY. 169 
 
 to make a boast of his indolence, his aversion 
 to restraint, and his want of memory. 
 
 Influenced by emotion, men of genius, as we 
 have already seen, while considering the faculty 
 of conception, fasten their attention on the sub- 
 jects that are to them of absorbing interest ; 
 these are the objects of their remembrance and 
 recollection. They keep not a " chronology of 
 events, but of emotions," and disregard what- 
 ever is interesting to the common mind : hence 
 in many matters they are less accurate than 
 those, who not susceptible of such emotions, 
 consider common things of sufficient importance 
 to treasure in their memories. This, in the 
 learned, will account for that mental aberation 
 called absence of mind. Of Newton it was 
 said that he was sometimes at a loss when spoken 
 to on the subject of his own discoveries ; his 
 mind was so occupied with present and new 
 ideas, that he found it difficult when taken by 
 surprise to recall what he had formerly thought 
 and written. Archimedes was so absorbed 
 in his studies that he could not be made to 
 comprehend the danger of resisting the desires 
 of the soldiers, to go with them, and thereby 
 lost his life. 
 
 But forgetfulness or absence of mind is not 
 always a mark of genius, or even a sign that 
 the mind is running on matters of importance. 
 
170 MEMORY. 
 
 A gentleman, one day after dinner ordered his 
 horse to the door for a ride, in the meantime 
 going to his sleeping apartment to change his 
 coat. In drawing off his coat he proceeded to 
 the associated circumstance of disrobing alto- 
 gether, and then put himself deliberately into 
 bed, where his family at the ,tea hour found him 
 enjoying most refreshing slumber, while the 
 poor horse had passed the afternoon tied at a 
 post. Mrs. D. one morning descended to the 
 kitchen to make a pudding, but after placing 
 the flour and milk upon the table she recollected 
 that the eggs were up-stairs in the pantry. The 
 lady re-ascended the stairs, obtained the eggs, 
 descended again and beat them to a froth. The 
 thought then occurred that sugar was a neces- 
 sary ingredient ; the sugar was also in the pan- 
 try, then a second journey up the stairs, and 
 oh provoking,"' when all was ready for the oven, 
 the nutmeg demanded another visit to the pan- 
 try ! At her third and rather impatient entrance 
 into the parlour, Mr. D. who had watched the 
 movements of his young wife, now looked up 
 smiling from his book ; " what are you thinking 
 of this morning my dear, said he, that makes 
 you so forgetful?" " Nothing at all" was her 
 answer. This was true forgetfulness in her — 
 was not the effect of thought, but want of thought. 
 The connection between the emotions, atten- 
 
MEMORY. 171 
 
 tion and memory, is seen in the recollections of 
 the aged. The events of their early years 
 readily occur to them, while those that hap- 
 pened yesterday, or the week before, fade en- 
 tirely from their minds, and the reason is evi- 
 dent ; in youth every object having the charm, 
 of novelty makes a strong and lively impres- 
 sion. In after life this charm is lost, for curi- 
 osity has but little upon which to fix itself; lit- 
 erally, there is no new thing to the mind, familiar 
 with all. It is extremely difficult for the aged 
 to form new associations ; hence they take but 
 little interest in events transpiring around them, 
 or in persons almost strangers to their hearts ; 
 the mind alternating between two points, is 
 absorbed either by the transactions of early 
 years or in contemplating the rapidly closing 
 scenes of life. 
 
 In the decline of life to keep the memory 
 bright and strong, the active exercise of mental 
 and moral power is necessary. The love of 
 literature or of fame will of itself be a sufficient 
 motive, as in the case of Voltaire, who continued 
 to write tragedies in his eightieth year. Sir 
 Isaac Newton who died in his eighty-fifth year, 
 presided two months previous to his death, over 
 the Royal Society, going to London, though in 
 feeble health, for the purpose. Two days be- 
 fore his death he read the newspaper and car- 
 
172 MEMORY. 
 
 ried on a long conversation, when all his senses 
 and faculties were strong and vigorous.* The 
 examples of strong mental power, at advanced 
 age, in those who continue to cultivate a taste 
 for literary pursuits through life, are too nume- 
 rous to leave any doubt of the above statement. 
 And this is particularly remarkable in those 
 whose minds are under the influence of virtuous 
 or pious emotions. No decay in memory andjudg- 
 ment is noticed of Franklin or of Washington, 
 but their active pursuits never came to a stand ; 
 they identified themselves with their country ; 
 plans of benevolence and good were before 
 them, while the lamp of life was wasting in the 
 socket. John Jay, who died about ten years 
 ago in his eighty-fourth year, was one of the 
 brightest ornaments of our country, and said 
 by Lord Chatham to be among the finest pro- 
 ductions of the master states of the world. The 
 intellectual and moral endowments of his per- 
 fectly well-balanced mind, were of the first 
 order, never clouded by prejudice nor ruffled 
 by passion. He feared and he loved God, and 
 in all his doings manifested a love for His glory.t 
 He did not indeed at eighty write a tragedy, 
 but he was chosen President of the Bible Soci- 
 ety, and presided over it until he had nearly fin- 
 
 * Life of Sir 1. Newton, by Brewster. 
 t Sermon preached by Dr. Hawes. 
 
MEMORY. 173 
 
 ished his earthly career. " Then he sunk qui- 
 etly to rest, full of years and full of honour. 
 He stood among the living in the evening of his 
 days, as the venerable patriarch of another age, 
 revered and loved by all who knew him." A 
 French writer* says that few men like Voltaire 
 are poets at eighty, but almost all are dotards ; 
 but a later observer of mankind has said, " The 
 individual who has led a life of temperance, 
 morality and activity, is rewarded by a green 
 old age, in which the decay of the powers is 
 so slow as to be almost imperceptible ;" also, 
 "if we hope to send forth corruscations of mind 
 in advanced age, we must charge the electric 
 battery in the prime of life."f 
 
 Instances in our own sex are not wanting to 
 prove the truth of the above position. Mrs. 
 Elizabeth Bury who lived to the age of seventy- 
 eight, eminent for her learning as well as piety, 
 maybe cited among others as an example worthy 
 the imitation of those young in years. It is 
 related of her that she had a fine understanding, 
 accompanied with a very faithful and retentive 
 memory, and soon became a proficient in what- 
 ever part of knowledge she was desirous to 
 attain. She applied herself to History, Philos- 
 
 * Physique de La Femme. f Dr. J. Johnson, 
 
 Economy of Health., 
 
174 MEMORY. 
 
 ophy, Philology and Mathematics ; also to the 
 Languages, ancient and modern. In the He- 
 brew she was quite a critic, as remarks upon 
 the peculiarities in that language found among 
 her papers shew. Her piety was in corres- 
 pondence with the strength of her mental qual- 
 ities ; and the study in which she most delighted 
 was the Bible. Through a long life her excel- 
 lencies shone out more and more, among an ex- 
 tensive circle of friends and relatives, and her 
 biographer testifies, that the clearness of her 
 thought, the vigour of her mind and the strength 
 of her memory continued to the last. 
 
 It is said of Lady Huntingdon that her per- 
 son, endowments and spirit were all uncom- 
 mon. During forty-five years of widowhood, 
 
 she devoted her time, talents and sustenance to 
 
 i 
 
 the support and diffusion of the Gospel, and to 
 the age of fourscore and upwards, for she died 
 when eighty-four, she maintained all the vigour 
 of youth. On the very day of her death she 
 conversed of sending missionaries to Tahiti. 
 Dr. Lettsom, who attended her death-bed writes, 
 " Let us be thankful that she was preserved to 
 advanced age with the perfect exercise of her 
 mental faculties. How often have we seen her, 
 elevated above the earth and earthly things, 
 uttering this language : " My work is done, I 
 
MEMORY. 175 
 
 have nothing to do but to go to my heavenly 
 Father."* 
 
 Mrs. Isabella Graham, of memory dear to 
 many ladies, still living witnesses to her worth 
 as an instructress, enjoyed in the labours of 
 active benevolence the full use of her mental 
 powers till death. In her seventy-second year, 
 the year of her death, she formed an adult 
 Sabbath School in the village of Greenwich. 
 Shortly before her death she collected and tran- 
 scribed in a little book, portions of Scripture 
 and favorite hymns ; these she committed to 
 memory and called them to remembrance as 
 songs in the night when sleep forsook her. 
 Mrs. Hawkes, whose memoirs are so admirably 
 presented to us by the daughter of the excellent 
 Cecil, preserved the brightness of her intellect 
 through a long life, nearly made up of intense 
 suffering, but in the midst of these sufferings 
 her labors for the good of others, either in 
 conversation or in writing were indefatigable. 
 Speaking of her weakness of body she says, 
 " I find this state of extreme exhaustion very 
 trying and unhinging to my mind ; which through 
 mercy is yet vigorous, and longs to be on the 
 wing, while its heavy companion bears it down. 
 What a mercy that the load is on the body, and 
 not on the soul ! What a favour that I can say, 
 
 * Memoirs of Pious Females. 
 
176 MEMORY. 
 
 though my natural strength be departed, the. 
 Lord is not departed from me : He is my strength 
 and my song, and my portion forever." 
 
 Here is the true philosophy of mental opera- 
 tion. The soul was formed in the image of its 
 Maker, and only when assimilating itself to the 
 Father of Spirits does it approach the perfec- 
 tion of its nature. Without memory knowledge 
 would be nothing to the mind. Indeed what 
 would be the intellect without the power to retain ? 
 not intellect, but idiocy. " To preserve the past 
 is half of immortality." Memory is thus de- 
 scribed by the old and admired poet, Spencer : 
 
 " That chamber seemed ruinous and old, 
 And therein sat an old, old man : half blind 
 And all decrepid in his feeble corse, 
 Yet lively vigor rested in his mind. 
 
 This man of infinite remembrance was ; 
 And things foregone through many ages held, 
 Which he recorded, still as they did pass, 
 Nor suffered them to perish through long eld, 
 A9 all things else, the which this world doth weld, 
 But laid them up in his immortal serine, 
 Where they forever uncorrupted dwell'd." 
 
 Memory preserves to us not only all the re- 
 cords of time from its creation to the present 
 moment, but also all the inventions and labours 
 of the human intellect; without it we could 
 have no knowledge at all, for in that case the 
 mind would be like a sheet of paper, upon 
 
MEMORY. 17 V 
 
 which objects are thrown through a camera ob- 
 scura,- — withdraw the objects, and nothing re- 
 mains. The memory like the Daguerotype 
 makes perceptions the property of the intellect; 
 and thus, even here, does man begin his im- 
 mortality. 
 
 But we have seen that this part of our im- 
 mortality depends much upon ourselves, for 
 though possessed of mental power, the proper 
 use of it is our own effort. Many persons sink 
 down into inaction of mind through criminal 
 indolence, for it is indeed criminal to spend 
 hours and days as Rousseau did in waking 
 dreams, in idle reveries, which he acknowledges 
 he could not recall. The case of Rousseau is 
 the case of multitudes in the early and most 
 important season of life. It is to be feared that 
 many a student, like the theatrical performer, 
 mentioned by Dr. Abercrombie, prepares his 
 lesson only for the occasion. This actor being 
 called upon suddenly to take the place of an- 
 other who had fallen sick, learned the part in a 
 very short time with great accuracy, but imme- 
 diately after the performance forgot every word 
 of it. This was done verbatim, through the 
 power of associating words with each other ; 
 for he declared that while speaking he thought 
 of nothing but the pages of the book. Every 
 
 student who is in the habit of committing ver- 
 12 
 
178 MEMORY. 
 
 batim, or by rote, as it is sometimes called, 
 knows what this is ; and many a one thus re- 
 cites lesson after lesson, from the mere habit of 
 association, without any other exercise of the 
 mind concerned in it. The result is, that what- 
 ever truth may have been delivered by the pupil 
 to the teacher, none at all has been perceived 
 by his own understanding. 
 
 The habit of thus associating and remem- 
 bering words, dates, names and even figures 
 becomes very strong, but it is doubtful whether 
 this kind of memory answers the best purpose 
 in the cultivation of mind. No labour is per- 
 haps more difficult than the la,bour of thinking; 
 and many a pupil is more willing to commit to 
 the keeping of his memory, a multitude of words, 
 which he does by the exercise of repetition, 
 rather than by the difficult work of reflection 
 on the facts and truths contained in his lesson, 
 fasten them upon his understanding, and thus 
 upon his memory. In truth, much greater care 
 and labour is required on the part of the teacher 
 to instruct under standingly, than to exercise the 
 memory in verbatim repetition ; and consider- 
 able discrimination on his part is necessary to 
 distinguish the merit of the boj 7 ", who with stam- 
 mering slowness, brings out facts in his own 
 bungling language, while his flippant classmate 
 with ready recollection and fluent tongue, runs 
 
MEMORY. 179 
 
 over a page in the words of the author. It is 
 probable that this way of cultivating the mem- 
 ory does injury to the intellectual powers. Per- 
 sons who thus exercise themselves in the re- 
 membrance of words, often make good linguists, 
 but are rarely men of invention. Sometime 
 ago, a young man was noticed at a boarding- 
 house table, pale, emaciated and entirely silent. 
 After some time the company discovered in him 
 a great linguist. He had studied all the dead 
 languages, most or all the European, and was 
 then applying himself to the Chinese. With 
 all these tongues he very rarely spoke a word, 
 and it could not be ascertained that he used lan- 
 guage in any other way than in the employment 
 as compositor in a printing-office. 
 
 Zerah Colburn from a child had an aston- 
 ishing faculty of remembering the associations of 
 numbers, but we do not find that in after life his 
 mental powers, though respectable, were much 
 superior to those of other men. It may be that 
 this case and some others similar, do not come 
 under the laws of emotion, association or habit. 
 Cyrus the Great is often mentioned among the 
 men of remarkable memory. He could, it is 
 asserted call every man in his army by name ; 
 but might not this ready recollection have been 
 induced by attention and habit f Historians 
 represent Cyrus as one of the kindest as well 
 
ISO MEMORY. 
 
 as the most polite men of ancient days. What w 
 a greater mark of attention to personsthan the 
 remembrance of their names and circumstances ? 
 Coleridge it is said was remarkably deficient in 
 the technical memory of words, yet so great 
 was his love for the Scriptures, that he could 
 repeat from memory much of Isaiah. He studied 
 that part of Scripture with unremitting atten- 
 tion and reverential awe.* 
 
 Jerome of Prague also affords an instance of 
 this kind of remembrance turned to good ac- 
 count. Before his martyrdom, he was confined 
 three hundred aad forty days in the bottom of 
 a dark tower, where it was impossible for him 
 to read, yet when called to his trial, he quoted 
 as many testimonies of the most learned men 
 in favor of his own principles, as if in that time 
 he had been confined to a good library and 
 favoured with every convenience for study. 
 
 The importance of correct remembrance and 
 ready recollection is seen every day in our lives. 
 Sad mistakes sometimes arise from forgetful- 
 ness in the common affairs of life, for our daily 
 duties are, after all, those which should be most 
 faithfully remembered. To forget our friends, 
 our households and our Maker, would give sad 
 evidence that our thoughts were but little occu- 
 pied with them. La Fontaine, a noted French 
 
 * Table Talk. 
 
MEMORY. 181 
 
 poet, was remarkable for this carelessness. He 
 was absorbed in his own imaginings, and his 
 biographer remarks that this emotion took from 
 him his memory and judgment. Sometime after 
 having attended the burial of one of his friends, 
 he called to visit him. At first he was shocked 
 at the information of his death, but recovering 
 from his surprise, he observed, it is true enough, 
 for now I recollect having attended his funeral. 
 At another time being in company, he much 
 admired a young man who was present, •■fit- 
 is your son," said some one of the persons pre- 
 sent. '• I am glad of it," answered La Fontaine, 
 This same indolent carelessness, say his me- 
 moirs,* rendered him inattentive to the worship 
 of God and the duties of religion. It is to be 
 feared that many a one without the plea of poetry , 
 or even of mathematics, is equally negligent of the 
 common duties of social life, and. of religion ; and 
 happy will it be, if, as is said of this poet, such 
 should wake to repentance before it be too late. 
 
 Many artificial helps have been contrived for 
 the cultivation of the memory, but nature itself 
 points out to the observing mind the best direc- 
 tions. Children easily learn words, their minds 
 not being so capable of exercising the reasoning 
 or imaginative powers ; but persons as they 
 
 * Dictioooaire Historique. 
 
182 MEMORY. 
 
 advance in age do not readily learn by rote, 
 because the ripened intellect is more con- 
 cerned in abstraction, judgment and imagina- 
 tion. Childhood, therefore, and early youth, 
 should be employed in acquiring such knowedge 
 as may be got by the repetition of words, and 
 by the use of figures or signs. In infancy poetic 
 numbers help to fix much useful truth upon the 
 mind. Witness the poetry of Dr. Watts, Mrs. 
 Barbauld and others. Children easily learn 
 languages, events and dates ; this sort of study 
 then is most proper at that period, and if their 
 attention be not divided among an incongruous 
 variety of studies, it is wonderful how much 
 they may learn of what belongs to language, 
 and to facts. By the skilful association and 
 combination of words, they will soon come at 
 the meaning of the terms most used in their 
 own language ; also at the prominent facts that 
 belong to History, Geography and Chronology ; 
 together with some of the easier branches of Nat- 
 ural Science, as well as the dead and foreign Lan- 
 guages. " It is, said Montaigne, without doubt 
 a fine accomplishment to understand Latin and 
 Greek, but it is bought too dear ; we labour 
 much to fill up the memory, and leave the un- 
 derstanding and conscience empty." Should 
 this be so, the accomplishment would indeed 
 
MEMORY. 183 
 
 be bought too dear, but one of these positions 
 does not necessarily involve the other. 
 
 Young persons as well as others should cul- 
 tivate a habit of attention to things useful in 
 themselves. The most cultivated minds do not 
 disdain to enquire of those much below them 
 in attainment. This was notable in a learned 
 Professor of one of our most eminent literary 
 Institutions. Though Professor of languages, 
 he often spent time in making enquiries of a 
 farmer respecting the best method and time for 
 planting and sowing his fields, and never did he 
 neglect to obtain any information that might ben- 
 efit himself or others. This he laid up in his 
 memory and used when opportunity required, 
 for this gentleman, who will long be held in 
 grateful remembrance, had a most benevolent 
 disposition, and this was the secret of his attention 
 to matters beside his Latin and Greek. He 
 loved mankind, he loved the cause of Christ, and 
 and nothing that could be beneficial to men or 
 subservient to religion, passed by him unno- 
 ticed, or was considered unworthy of his re- 
 membrance. 
 
 Correct associations of things and ideas in all 
 their relations should be carefully cultivated ; 
 thus will they best be remembered and after- 
 wards be brought up by recollection, for mem- 
 ory and recollection depend much upon asso- 
 
184 MEMORY. 
 
 ciation. This perhaps may be better explained 
 in another place. Correct and clear concep- 
 tions also much assist the memory ; indeed, 
 memory as we have already seen, is of little 
 use, if the understanding be not concerned in it- 
 Whatever is clearly conceived will be readily 
 remembered, therefore those have the best mem- 
 ories who understand and reason best, who have 
 order and method in their thoughts. Persons 
 who do not notice attentively, who do not con- 
 ceive strongly, who do not reason correctly, or 
 keep not their thoughts in such a train as order 
 and conscience demand, make but a poor use 
 of the mental power entrusted to diem. Such 
 persons will be thinking of one thing and 
 doing another, they will remember what they 
 should forget, and forget what they should re- 
 member. 
 
 To no branch of science are we more inat- 
 tentive than to the one now before us, that which 
 treats of the operations of our own minds ; and 
 no where are we less inclined to look to the 
 operations of God, the Father of Spirits, than 
 within ourselves. We see the grass springing 
 up and the trees putting forth their leaves and 
 buds ; we look at the bright sun and the beau- 
 tiful, ever varying clouds, and exclaim, 
 
 " These are Thy works, Parent of Good !" 
 
 Strange, that when thoughts flow within us, 
 
MEMORY. 185 
 
 a constant stream, when memoiy preserves and 
 treasures up, more carefully than does the 
 miser his gold and silver, the knowledge that else 
 would float away as bubbles are borne off by 
 the noisy rapid ; when emotions prompt us, 
 now to one object, now to another ; while rea- 
 son and conscience, shine like the moon and 
 the sun about our pathway ; strange that seeing 
 all this within us, we do not perceive whose 
 workmanship we are ! These our bodies might 
 have been joined to ideotic souls, the senses 
 serving as organs of perception, with very little 
 intellectual process within ; such would be the 
 mind without conception and emotion. Or like 
 3'on lake in a calm summer's morning, reflecting 
 the trees and houses upon its banks, and the 
 splendour of the changing skies ; the slightest 
 ripple on its surface effaces them all ; so would 
 the mind be without memory. Let us return 
 thanks to our Heavenly Parent that we, more 
 noble than the elements from which we are 
 formed, carry a world within us ; that we are 
 fearfully and wonderfully made. But while con- 
 templating such intellectual treasure, let us be- 
 ware of pleading, as did the Roman of old, it is 
 too much, we cannot use it.* Should we do 
 
 * Julius Atticus, a noble Roman, but poor, discovered 
 a treasure buried under an old house. The equitable 
 Nerva who filled the Emperial throne refused, though the 
 
186 MEMORY. 
 
 this, the enemy sloth might reply as did Nerva, 
 " abuse it then" : and this abuse might be turned 
 to a fearful judgment. Are we sure that we 
 might not during life be left to the recollection 
 of things that profit us nothing ? or can we be 
 certain that some tormenting remembrance, as 
 in the case of the person who had a profane 
 thought perpetually brought to him by memory, 
 may not destroy our peace and produce insan- 
 ity ? Or by neglecting to cultivate correct 
 habits of thought, how do we know that we 
 may not fall into listlessness, distressing absence 
 or wandering of mind, and finally into a sort of 
 childishness, a half idiocy, rendering us, before 
 old age fairly overtakes us, useless in society, 
 the sport of the young, and fit objects of ridi- 
 cule and pity? In these sacred words, let each 
 one pray, " Teach me O Lord, give me under- 
 standing. Turn away mine eyes from beholding 
 vanity. Teach me good judgment and know- 
 ledge. Thy hands have made me and fashioned 
 me : give me understanding, that I may learn Thy 
 commandments." Thus prayed David, who be- 
 ing taught of God, " forgot not His precepts, and 
 had more understanding than all his teachers." 
 
 law gave him the right, to take any part of ir. Atticus 
 insisted that it was too considerable for a subject, he did 
 not know how to use it. Abuse it then said Nerva, for it 
 is your own. 
 
MEMORY. 187 
 
 The subject before us is one of intense inte- 
 rest. The powers of perception, conception 
 and memory belong to mind alone. The ob- 
 jects of the senses are gone perhaps forever, 
 but the conceptions produced by these objects 
 or by truth which has been presented, are in- 
 delibly engraven by memory upon the imper- 
 ishable intellect ; not like inscriptions upon 
 Egyptian monuments, which stand the revolu- 
 tion of thousands of centuries ; memory keeps 
 the records of time throughout eternal ages. 
 The reminiscences of the aged go back to the 
 earliest dawn of reason. The delirium of the 
 sick brings up words and feelings upon which 
 the mind seemed to have held but feebly* 
 The death-bed, ah that indeed isa " detector 
 of the heart," for, 
 
 "treacherous conscience, while she seems to sleep 
 On rose and myrtle, lull'd with syren song ; 
 
 See from behind her secret stand 
 The sly informer minutes every fault, 
 And her dread diary with horror fills. 
 Not the gross act alone employs her pen; 
 She reconnoitres fancy's fairy band. 
 Our dawning purposes of heart explores, 
 And steals our embryos of iniquity. 
 Unnoted, notes each moment misapplied 
 In leaves more durable than leaves of brass, 
 Writes our whole history, which death shall read 
 
 * Note H. 
 
188 MEMORY. 
 
 In every pale delinquent's private ear, 
 And judgment publish."* 
 
 Yes, judgment publish, for the sacred Word 
 assures us that for " every idle word that men 
 shall speak they shall give account in the day 
 of judgment." Where or how is this account 
 kept . ? We know not unless the memory, God's 
 own record within to the mind, faithfully retains 
 it. Let us see to it that the memory records 
 not what shall in the years of the future, crim- 
 son the cheek with a blush of shame, as recol- 
 lection, a true, but often an unwilling witness, 
 brings it to the tribunal of conscience. f 
 
 Above all, my dear pupils, let me exhort you 
 to turn your attention now to such subjects as 
 maj r profit your immortal spirits. Let the most 
 important truths be those in which you partic- 
 ularly delight, so that when the objects of earth 
 give but a shadowy trace to the dimmed eye, 
 when the strains of sweetest music awake no 
 corresponding emotions in the mind, when rea- 
 son tottering on its throne ceases to form 
 conceptions even of the relations dearest 
 to the soul on earth ; then may the page of 
 memory hold up one truth, written as with a 
 sunbeam, and glowing in the light of Truth 
 Eternal, " God in Christ is mine, and I am His." 
 
 * Young's Night Thoughts. f Note I. 
 
ASSOCIATION. 189 
 
 * 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 In this study, my friends, your attention must 
 be continually called to yourselves. In the light 
 of consciousness alone can you, perceive the 
 phenomena of mental philosophy. Examine 
 yourselves then, as we pass from subject to 
 subject, and see, whether the facts of conscious- 
 ness do not correspond with what are here pre- 
 sented. 
 
 Let us suppose that, after the lapse of years, 
 we return to the place where our childhood was 
 passed. There is the old family mansion, but 
 the forms that occupied it are at rest in the 
 tomb, though as we enter, they seem to start 
 out into life and being before the mind. The 
 dear aged mother is again seated in the very 
 chair that supported her form when living; her 
 ready smile beams upon the mind's eye, the 
 fond words she has spoken vibrate on the heart 
 strings. We walk through the village ; yonder 
 school-house carries us back to the tasks we in 
 childhood unwillingly learned, the master sits 
 at the deserted desk, and through every broken 
 pane of the lone building we see the flaxen locks 
 and the laughing eyes of our former merry com- 
 panions. Under that elm-tree where the sheep 
 
190 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 are now grazing, we hear the frolic voices and 
 go over again the sports that once were so de- 
 lightful. 
 
 Wherefore do these images of things so long 
 unthought of float before the mind ? Why now 
 does the remembrance of joys that are past 
 come like sweet strains of music " pleasant and 
 mournful to the soul ?" It is because the mind 
 has the power of associating things present, 
 with things past and absent, and the objects 
 that now present themselves to the senses bring 
 to its perceptions, objects, that have long lain 
 like things disregarded in the memory. 
 
 This associating power in the mind is brought 
 into action by a variety of circumstances. Re- 
 semblance is one. The countenance of a stran- 
 ger will recall to us that of a friend ; so a scene 
 in a foreign land will forcibly remind us of home. 
 The sound of the church bell at St. Helena drew 
 tears from the eyes of Napoleon, for it recalled 
 to him the quiet and happy season of his boy- 
 hood, in his own native island. A young woman 
 found herself among strangers, in sickness and 
 sorrow, without sympathy, and without care. 
 Her mind naturally strong, bore up under mis- 
 fortune until she was carried to the hospitable 
 dwelling of a person who commiserated her. 
 Looking up, half fainting after her removal, at 
 the bed-side, she beheld a lady in middle life, 
 
ASSOCIATION. 191 
 
 ministering, with affectionate looks to her wants* 
 The curtained bed and the comfortable apart- 
 ment caught her eye ; she burst into a pas- 
 sionate fit of weeping, and seizing the stranger 
 lady's hand exclaimed, " home and my mother 
 too !" 
 
 Thus also, it is that the mind compares, and 
 traces analogies between objects and subjects. 
 Life is compared to a day. Youth the morning, 
 manhood the noon, old age the evening; and to 
 complete the comparison death is termed the 
 night. So youth is sometimes named the spring, 
 manhood the summer and age the winter. Here 
 is the origin of me ta plior and allegory. A strong 
 man is called a Hercules, a patriotic defender 
 of his country a Washington. In personifica- 
 tion the winds are said to be furies ; the winter 
 a monarch. 
 
 " See winter comes to rule the varied year, 
 Sullen and sad, with all his rising train, 
 Vapours, and clouds and storms." 
 
 Contrast also brings up strong associations 
 and thus heightens our joys or increases our 
 sorrows. Safety succeeding danger, and relief 
 after severe pain, are enjoyed with keen delight. 
 So disappointment when we had great expecta- 
 tions, poverty overtaking us in the midst of afflu- 
 ence ; death breaking in upon a family circle in 
 the full enjoyment of youth and health, are ex- 
 
192 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 ceedingly bitter. A great object associated with 
 a small one makes the great one appear larger, 
 and the less, smaller than it really is. In the ob- 
 jects of sight the mind finds a gratification in 
 the association of contrasting forms and colours. 
 The bright sunshine with the dark shades of 
 the woods ; the deep green of the earth with 
 the brilliant blue of the heavens ; the gigantic 
 oak with the little violet ; the sublime cataract 
 with the gentle rivulet. And beautifully does 
 this associating power in the mind harmonize 
 with the objects of its perceptions found in na- 
 ture, so uniform, so varied, so contrasted. 
 
 The love of home and friends is sometimes 
 heightened by the contrast of situation. Some 
 Greenlanders were carried slaves to Copen- 
 hagen ; the magnificence of the city augmented 
 their grief, as the contrast brought to their minds 
 the poverty of their own beloved country, and 
 home was vividly presented to them. Many 
 died of sorrow, though treated with kindness, 
 and several were drowned in attempting to re- 
 turn home in an open boat. " Alas," said Ca- 
 ractacus, the king of the. rude Britons, when 
 carried a captive to Rome, " with all these 
 splendid palaces, could you envy me a cottage 
 in Britain ?" 
 
 A boy placed at a public military school in 
 France, was observed at the. time of meals, to 
 
ASSOCIATION. 19o 
 
 refuse all food except bread and water. When 
 ordered to take other nourishment and repri- 
 manded for his disobedience, he wept. The 
 officer in charge pressed him with questions, 
 and he acknowledged that the thought of parta- 
 king of good soups and meats among strangers, 
 while his mother and brothers were almost 
 without bread at home, was more than he could 
 bear. 
 
 To the association of contrast, chiefly is to be 
 referred that combination of thought termed 
 wit. Pope in his description of a lady's toilet 
 has these lines : 
 
 "The tortoise here and elephant unite, 
 Transform'd to combs, the speckled and the white, 
 Here files of pins extend their shining rows ; 
 Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux." 
 
 Also, in describing the things lost upon earth 
 that are found in the moon, he says : 
 
 *' There, heroes' wits are kept in ponderous vases, 
 And beaux in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases ; 
 There broken vows and death-bed alms are found, 
 And lover's hearts with ends of ribbon bound. 
 Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea, 
 Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry." 
 
 Rape of the Lock. 
 
 Contiguity or nearness, is the foundation of 
 many associations. My own brings with it emo- 
 tions very different from those we feel in con- 
 templating what is anothers. Hence the pref- 
 13 
 
194 ASSQCIATION. 
 
 erence for our native place, for the church in 
 which we worship ; the dearest affections of the 
 heart are connected with them. The wearied 
 and sea-sick traveller on his approach to land 
 feels his spirits revive with the anticipation of 
 the comforts of firm footing, quiet apartments, 
 a good bed, fresh water and the nameless plea- 
 sures that terra firma affords. Still greater is 
 his delight, if the land he approaches be his own 
 country. In addition to the association of field 
 and forest, and human population, contrasted 
 with the liquid desert upon which he has been 
 wandering ; in addition to this contrasting asso- 
 ciation of sea and land, does he associate the 
 sympathies of home. He is linked to his coun- 
 try by a thousand ties which bind him to none 
 beside ; and his very heart bounds with joy as 
 the vessel sweeps into port, and well-remem- 
 bered scenes, to which years before he bade a 
 sorrowful farewell, rise before him. He leaps 
 upon the shore. Those waters washed his 
 boyish feet ; from that very wharf dangled his 
 fishing-line. Yonder is the steeple under which 
 his mother worships; and there, in the distance, 
 is the paternal roof. His limbs almost refuse 
 to carry him, for associations too strong are 
 gathering around his heart; hopes and fears hold 
 terrible conflict within. 
 
 In visiting the shores of Greece, the educated 
 
ASSOCIATION. 195 
 
 traveller, as he treads the streets of modern 
 Athens, forgets its degradation ; for he beholds 
 the City of Pericles with its Odeon and its golden 
 Minerva. He listens for the voice of Demos- 
 thenes as he thundered forth his Philippics ; he 
 searches for Plato and his disciples in the groves 
 of the Academy, where the philosopher in- 
 structed them in the immortality of the soul ; 
 and for Paul on the Hill of Mars, declaring 
 before the altars of the Unknown God, Him. 
 the Creator of all things, and the Redeemer 
 of men. 
 
 This association of ideas with time and place 
 is strong, and lasting as life, often giving a col- 
 ouring to its happiness. A respectable clergy- 
 man, mentioned once in cheerful conversation 
 with his friends, that when a child, he had been 
 made to listen to stories of ghosts and frightful 
 things that are said to rove about under cover 
 of the night ; " and even now," said he, laugh- 
 ing, " is the association so strong, that when 
 night comes, I am obliged to muster all my res- 
 olution to the aid of reason, before I can under- 
 take to venture any where in the dark ; and I 
 often catch my self looking round, while a shud- 
 der passes over my frame, to see whether some 
 terrible creature is not at my heels." 
 
 The mind naturally associates causes and 
 their effects. When we think of winter, we 
 
196 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 .connect with it cold, and ice, and snow, with 
 the accompanying pleasures of good fires, and 
 social comforts. Spring comes to the mind with 
 genial breezes, budding flowers, the song of 
 birds and fragrant meadows. The thought of 
 summer brings languor to the mind, and longing 
 for cooling fruits and invigorating, healthful 
 waters. When we embark upon the ocean we 
 think of storm and shipwreck, and when sick- 
 ness attacks us we think of death, and some- 
 times judgment. The mind also reverts from 
 effect to cause. The sight of a portrait will 
 suggest the enquiry, who was the painter ? a 
 piece of machinery, who was the contriver ? 
 Being conscious of thought, of feeling and of 
 will, we associate something that thinks, that 
 feels, that wills, and call it soul. Then comes 
 the enquiry, How came the soul into being ? 
 and of this vast machinery of earth and heaven, 
 who is the Maker ? 
 
 These are the associations of reason. The 
 senses discover qualities, such as heat and cold, 
 hardness, softness, roughness ; reason associates 
 body with them. Body being given, reason 
 finds space. The eye discovers the visible, 
 reason conceives the invisible. The senses 
 give the material, reason connects the immate- 
 rial. The understanding perceives effect, rea- 
 the understanding mounts 
 
ASSOCIATION. 197 
 
 from cause to cause, reason loudly proclaims 
 the First Great Cause. 
 
 In this power of the mind to associate do we 
 discover its amazing activit}^. One object ad- 
 dressed to the perception brings to the concep- 
 tion, the memory, the imagination, the judg- 
 ment and the feelings, innumerable associated 
 thoughts. It is like an electric spark or mag- 
 netic influence ; and thus is a train of thought 
 involuntary or voluntary carried on the mind, 
 no one idea standing alone and unconnected. 
 Arrangement or order, is very remarkable in 
 this association of ideas, when the mind is under 
 the influence of reason. In regarding any ob- 
 ject or subject it is considered as a whole before 
 it is analyzed or examined in parts. Thus a 
 tree first strikes the attention as an entire beau- 
 tiful object, the mind then notices the regularity 
 of the branches, the form and colour of the 
 leaves, the delicacy of the blossoms, the rich- 
 ness of the fruits. In the study of Geography, 
 we first view the whole globe, then its divisions 
 of land and water, with their subdivisions ; 
 afterwards the several countries, their divisions 
 into states, counties, cities and villages. This 
 associated order in perceptions is natural to the 
 mind, and becomes much improved by educa- 
 tion and habit. 
 
 Persons of brilliant fancy are quick in the 
 
19S ASSOCIATION. 
 
 association of trifles often incongruous and ludi- 
 crous ; relations which are unexpected take 
 place in their thoughts and we call them wits ; 
 but there is certainly some distinction to be 
 made between wit, and odd and fanciful rela- 
 tions. Wit is allied to genius, it is the product 
 of the imagination, correct, chaste and unex- 
 pected in its associations. A love of oddity, 
 puns, and low play upon words is hurtful to the 
 mind, as it too frequently degenerates into such 
 insufferable trifling, that though for a time, and 
 in certain company, it may amuse, yet it never 
 fails to disgust persons of good sense, and in 
 the end turns the mind of him who indulges 
 such a vein of humour from every thing serious 
 and important. Such persons view things in 
 parts, never in their general and reasonable 
 relations. In the science of medicine they see 
 nothing but the art of killing people ; in law, 
 that of picking each others pockets ; in religion, 
 that of being supremely dull or hypocritical. 
 Thus to indulge the associations of disorderly 
 fancy do they break loose from reason. 
 
 Indolence, inattention, or some foolish curi- 
 osity frequently hinders the mind in such exer- 
 cise of reflection as is necessary to form correct 
 associations ; thus is it wild in its imagination, 
 deficient in memory, and so imperfect in con- 
 ception as to prevent it from arriving at proper 
 
ASSOCIATION. 199 
 
 conclusions. Here again, should the mother or 
 teacher be in watchful observance of the open- 
 ing intellect. Children are averse to fixedness 
 of thought, and so volatile that the buzzing of 
 a fly will break up the associated train of ideas 
 in study or recitation. They are fanciful and apt. 
 to be affected by slight relations, so that they need 
 to have their minds continually brought back to 
 the point in question, and their attention con- 
 fined to an associated or regular train of thought, 
 the prominent ideas and those connected in the 
 most important relations being kept in view. 
 
 A specimen of the manner in which children 
 think may give assistance to the mother or 
 teacher in this training of mind. A girl of 
 twelve years of age was requested to write 
 what she knew of the history of Socrates, which 
 not long before she had for a lesson. Here is 
 her account : " Socrates was a great man. He 
 had a wife named Zantippe, who was a great 
 scold, and one day as he was going out she threw 
 a pitcher of water on his head. Socrates lived 
 till he was old, and was then poisoned to death 
 by drinking a cup of hemlock tea." You see 
 here how few things arrested the attention of 
 this little girl in the History of Socrates, how 
 slightly they were related and how unimportant. 
 Take another instance. Mamma, you promised 
 to tell me about the good man who was put in 
 
200 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 the inquisition, said James. Sit down then, 
 answered the mother and I will begin. James 
 sat down accordingly. This gentleman was a 
 merchant who went to Spain on business. Ah, 
 interrupted the boy, Uncle Joseph says, they 
 carry long knives and have fine oranges in 
 Spain. How I love oranges. Mamma, why do 
 not oranges grow here ? The climate is not 
 warm enough, my son. Very true, said James, 
 we are always freezing here. I don't like cold 
 weather, I wish we lived in the West Indies, 
 where Uncle Joseph says it is always warm. 
 The mother smiled, and the little boy mused a 
 moment. They have slaves in the West Indies 
 and I don't like slavery. Mother where do the 
 negroes come from t Africa, said the mother. 
 Ah, that is where they get ivory and gold-dust. 
 Thus it is that the mind of a lively child will 
 wander ; and here firm and continual discipline 
 is necessary to fix it ; else may this roving fancy 
 show itself hereafter in feebleness of intellect, 
 unsettled purposes, and finally in the dotage of 
 long story telling with perpetually recurring- 
 episodes. We have seen that the mind is either 
 subjected to the perceptions brought to it by the 
 senses, and that then its associations are loose 
 and arbitrary, or it is under the control of the 
 reason, and its associations are natural and sub- 
 jected to the order arising from reflection. 
 
ASSOCIATION. 201 
 
 When attention does not stop the current of 
 thought for the examination of any one subject, 
 the mind is balloted from wave to wave, car- 
 ried from perceptions of the present to those of 
 the past, brought by recollection, in endless 
 and fruitless succession. Examine the train of 
 thought as we notice it in the conversation cf 
 ignorant or unreflecting persons ; they are led off 
 by a word or an object to an entire new subject, 
 and however interesting may have been the ori- 
 ginal topic, you cannot without manifest effort 
 bring them back to it. Some for want of this 
 natural order in the associations of thought, are 
 not capable of conducting an argumentative 
 discourse extemporaneously ; others from the 
 rapidity with which thoughts slightly related 
 pass through their minds, can with ready utter- 
 ance, entrance an audience of common hearers, 
 while sound reasoning which they do not use, 
 is indispensable with those who exercise their 
 own reason. What an eloquent man, such a 
 flow of words ; it requires no effort to listen to 
 him. What did he prove ? is the enquiry. I 
 cannot really tell, but I was charmed. Those 
 who use their reason in reflection are not thus 
 carried away ; they seek the wherefore, they 
 enquire the cause, and are unsatisfied with a 
 torrent of words. 
 
 So in other matters the reasoning mind re- 
 
202 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 quires natural rather than arbitrary associations. 
 The relation of cause and effect strikes it for- 
 cibly, also the relation between objects and their 
 qualities ; between bodies and other bodies, 
 between matter and mind, between mind and 
 mind. Lastly it seeks relations, moral and 
 immortal. 
 
 The power of associating thoughts affects the 
 mind in a variety of ways. Much of the plea- 
 sure we derive from qualities in material ob- 
 jects depends upon our associations. Colour is 
 one instance of this. Blue, pink, lilac, green, 
 are beautiful in themselves as colours ; we like 
 them when worn by the young and the fair ; 
 but should they be unfashionable, illy assorted 
 or unsuitable to the age and circumstances of 
 the wearer, they would not please the eye. 
 Black, when worn as mourning, produces 
 oloomv thoughts in the beholder, when used as 
 a dress of convenience or of fashion, no such 
 emotion is produced. New fashions being asso- 
 ciated with the great or the gay, who first use 
 them, are looked upon with admiration ; when 
 they become common, admiration ceases, and 
 the very articles that were some time since 
 esteemed so costly, and sought so eagerly, are 
 thrown by as worthless. Hannah More says of 
 the Miss Fentons, " that when covering the 
 person was the order of the day, not Queen 
 
ASSOCIATION. 203 
 
 Elizabeth and her maids of honour were more 
 concealed in ruffs and capes than they ; but 
 when display became fashionable, not the god- 
 dess Diana and her nymphs were more uncov- 
 ered." The tones, the looks, the words, the 
 manners, the sentiments of the wealthy and the 
 fashionable, are by some minds regarded as the 
 standard of all that is beautiful or right. These 
 suffer arbitrary associations to carry them as 
 far from reason as from good taste. 
 
 In many other ways do associated qualities 
 strongly affect us. Regularity, order and neat- 
 ness are so associated with our comfort that 
 they are highly pleasing to us in the objects that 
 surround us. Irregularity may be a beauty in 
 a tangled forest, where flowers and shrubs of all 
 sorts and colours grow up in wild and sweet 
 profusion, but to see things out of place and in 
 a mass of confusion around our dwellings would 
 excite any thing but pleasurable emotions. 
 Here, order, neatness and regularity, are indis- 
 pensable. These associations constitute a prin- 
 ciple charm in domestic life, and many a woman 
 renders herself respectable and beloved with 
 few mental acquisitions, from an attention to 
 neatness and order in herself and her household 
 concerns. So valuable an ingredient are these 
 qualities in the happiness of the domestic circle, 
 that men frequently rank them above every 
 
204 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 other consideration in the education of our sex ; 
 and with a prejudice, it may be illy founded, 
 they associate the idea of a literary wife, with 
 a slovenly, disorderly, and badly-managed fam- 
 ily ; when perhaps the association would be 
 more correct, should they couple slovenliness 
 and disorder with indolence, inattention, and 
 bad taste, inseparable appendages to a mind 
 not properly cultivated, more under the direc- 
 tion of the senses than of reason. 
 
 The emotions of the mind are much, it may 
 be altogether, under the influence of its asso- 
 ciating power. An instance of it is seen in the 
 effect that different seasons of the year have over 
 the feelings. The spring, when all nature is 
 in renovation, gives a cheerful tone to the mind, 
 in harmony with the budding of flowers, the 
 song of birds, and the balmy breezes of the 
 south ; while in autumn, the wintry sky, the 
 changing colours of the forest, the fall of the leaf, 
 produce an irrepressible sadness ; a foreboding 
 of the period when the whitening locks, and the 
 tottering steps, show the approach to the win- 
 ter of the tomb. 
 
 An intimate relation subsists in the mind be- 
 tween sounds and ideas ; hence many of the 
 pleasures derived from eloquence and music. 
 The gentle tones of the voice, in an unknown 
 tongue, would be persuasive, because of the 
 
ASSOCIATION. 205 
 
 association with amiability of character, and 
 harsh tones would be disagreeable, even fright- 
 ful, from the association with the opposite qual- 
 ity. Soft sounds in music associated with ten- 
 der sentiments, fill the mind with pleasing emo- 
 tions ; animated sounds joined to heroic senti- 
 ments elevate it, and impart courage even to 
 the coward. This is noticed on the battle-field, 
 where the music seems sufficient to impel the 
 soldier and even the war-horse to rush upon 
 carnage and destruction. The effect of music 
 over the mind is most marked in its power to 
 recall the past with intensity of feeling. Every 
 one has witnessed this in the effect produced upon 
 the aged, by hearing sung the songs of childhood 
 or of youth ; or in the overpowering emotion 
 caused by hearing some air associated in his re- 
 membrance with former happiness, when that 
 happiness has fled forever with the voice, now 
 silent, that created it. 
 
 An American gentleman in Paris, giving an 
 account of the Fourth of July celebration in 
 that capital adds, " I must not omit to tell you 
 how much we cheered Yankee Doodle. At 
 home we should have heard it with pleasure, 
 but without cheering. Here when it struck up, 
 it touched the electric chain that binds us to the 
 pleasant land we have left, and all seemed to 
 be inspired with the impulse to applaud again. 
 
206 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 I know not whether the tune in the abstract be 
 good or bad, but music like poetry, is to be 
 praised according to the number of associations 
 it awakens, or the images it renews. Yankee 
 Doodle with us should have no parallel. I know 
 not what are the images raised in the minds of 
 others by that good old tune, but to me it is a 
 glass of Surra's Magician, and presents an im- 
 age of beauty. It shows me a green land of 
 long rivers and broad lakes — a land flowing 
 with milk and honey — a land of steady habits, 
 white churches and school-houses, and many 
 newspapers." 
 
 The association of habit is interesting and 
 very remarkable. In learning for instance to 
 play an instrument, the utmost attention is 
 necessary to go through all the notes of a piece 
 of music ; this is at first slowly and almost 
 painfully performed ; but soon the fingers run 
 over it lightly, and the notes are so associated 
 in the memory, that the person can play it in 
 the dark and even when the mind is engaged 
 with something else. In the same way can 
 some persons who are in the constant habit of 
 casting up large accounts in Arithmetic, give in 
 almost incredibly short time, the associated 
 amount of vast and unexpected numbers. A 
 blind boy from the Asylum of the Blind exhib- 
 iting in the presence of a company, was told to 
 
ASSOCIATION. 207 
 
 repeat certain verses aloud, while he at the 
 same time went mentally through the exercise 
 of adding together a number of large figures 
 making a great sum : he was requested when 
 he obtained the number sought, to stop his reci- 
 tation of the verses ; which he did in the midst 
 of a line, by naming the amount of his addi- 
 tion. This boy had the habit of associating 
 words in his memory, without thinking of their 
 meaning ; also numbers, which by abstraction 
 he could do while repeating words. Perhaps, 
 with the sense of sight, the train of mental, 
 habitual associations would not have been so 
 perfect. The power of the habitual association 
 of ideas and words is very great in public 
 speakers ; in those especially who can, for hours 
 together, hold an audience in mute attention. 
 The art of rhyming, or writing verse, is another 
 instance of this habit ; in such cases thought 
 flows out, as readily and rapidly, in metrical 
 lines, as in prose. 
 
 Much of the routine of common life is but 
 the regular association of habitual performances 
 at stated times. Follow a lady through one 
 day of her housekeeping, and you will find that 
 she performs almost mechanically, a multitude 
 of labours, that seem habitually to follow each 
 other. Each hour has its appointed employ- 
 ment, and these duties are so associated to- 
 
208 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 gether in her thoughts, that none are omitted. 
 A person of indolent habits might suppose such 
 continual occupation very irksome. Not at all ; 
 the duties of such a woman are connected in so 
 regular a train, and so intimately associated in 
 mind, that the omission of any one would be 
 painful ; habit renders the performance easy ; 
 her interest in them, as they are beneficial to 
 others, makes it pleasant. Wonderfully indeed 
 is the mind adapted to its earthly condition. 
 How distressing would life be, if its daily ac- 
 tions, and necessary employments, were always 
 as tedious and slow as when they were first 
 attempted ! 
 
 In some persons the defect of recollection is 
 very remarkable in the use of names and terms, 
 with which they are not familiar. We rarely 
 misapply a name, or term, we use frequently, 
 although it sometimes happens. A mother 
 even, will occasionally, in the perplexity of 
 family cares, run over in succession the names 
 of her children, before she fixes upon the right 
 one : and one neighbour will call another, Mr. 
 What's his name the grocer, who lives at the 
 corner. Montaigne could not recollect the 
 names of his servants, but called one cook, 
 another coachman. Proper names are arbi- 
 trary, and not at all associated with the indi- 
 dividual, because they do not describe him ; 
 
ASSOCIATION. 209 
 
 but the name of his profession, or any word 
 that denotes something in his appearance 
 given to him as an epithet, would be recollected. 
 Such names are in use among the North Amer- 
 ican Indians, as Red Jacket, Big Gun, Destroy 
 Town. The names of the Israelites were also 
 significant of some quality or circumstance rela- 
 ting to the person, such as Naomi signifying plea- 
 sant, and Mara bitterness. Among us this is not 
 so ; the same name to which no -meaning is 
 attached is given to a number of individuals, and 
 therefore difficult to recollect in its application to 
 one. Terms used to denote classes of objects that 
 strike the attention, are easily recollected ; in- 
 deed they come up, from infancy, associated 
 with the object — such as a tree, a house, a book. 
 Children are often long in learning the letters 
 of the alphabet upon the above principle. It 
 is not easy to make a child, whether dull or 
 sprightly, so familiar with the form of a letter, 
 as to associate with it a name ; many of the let- 
 ters nearly resemble each other, and they con- 
 vey to the mind, in themselves, no idea. There- 
 fore is it, that the device of connecting some 
 idea with the letter, is frequently used ; such as 
 round o, crooked s ; c with cat, d with dog. Chil- 
 dren will learn to associate the letters in rota- 
 tion, sooner than they will learn to distinguish 
 
 one from another. Atticus Herodus, a great 
 14 
 
210 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 orator in the reign of Nerva, had a son whose 
 inaptness for learning was very great. To 
 teach him the alphabet his father gave him 
 twenty-four domestics, with each a letter on his 
 breast, and by the name of the letter was the 
 servant called ; so that in time the stupid boy 
 learnt his alphabet and even to read. 
 
 The associations of the mind often influence 
 its judgments. With rank and riches we are 
 apt to connect in our minds, worth, respecta- 
 bility and happiness, and so bestow our admi- 
 ration ; and in contrasting our situation with the 
 above, whom we imagine so fortunate, we are 
 disposed to think ourselves very miserable. 
 With the prosperity of those whom we regard 
 with envy, we associate the favour of Provi- 
 dence ; with our own misfortunes, the displea- 
 sure of the Almighty. David, the man after 
 God's own heart, fell into this error and was 
 cured of it by going into the Sanctuary. There 
 he learned the end of the prosperous and wicked 
 man, and was taught that whom the Lord loveth 
 He chasteneth. When the mind is not sub- 
 jected to the controul of reason and piety, all 
 its operations must become in a degree disor- 
 dered ; and especially will its power of asso- 
 ciation influence the judgment in drawing unfair 
 conclusions. 
 
 An instance of this we find in the history of 
 
ASSOCIATION. 211 
 
 the Romans. The empire when enervated and 
 degraded by luxury fell into the hands of the 
 Barbarians of the North. These people con- 
 nected the pomp and splendour of the abject 
 Romans with their downfall, and to avoid such 
 fate themselves, they broke in pieces the stately 
 edifices and destroyed the finest works of human 
 ingenuity. They turned the pleasure grounds 
 and gardens into parks for hunting the wild 
 boar, and pastured their herds where they might 
 have raised luxurious harvests. They prohib- 
 ited their children the knowledge of the elegant 
 arts as well as of the literature and language of 
 the Romans, because they concluded from their 
 pusillanimity, that knowledge and learning tend 
 to enervate the mind. 
 
 Conclusions, similar to those drawn by the 
 barbarous Goths, are from similar associations 
 at this enlightened period, drawn by persons 
 whose education might enable them to form 
 more correct judgments. The mischiefs arising 
 from unfounded associations are often seen in 
 the distracting fears which frequently possess 
 the mind, that might quickly be dispelled by 
 reflection ; as in the superstitious dread ensuing 
 from the association of night and darkness, with 
 attacks from robbers, or the haunting of disem- 
 bodied spirits. The sight of a hedious or fero- 
 cious animal let loose upon us, might give rea- 
 
212 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 sonable cause for alarm ; but should the animal 
 be confined in a cage or chained, or should we 
 have the facile means of escaping, it would be 
 unreasonable to indulge in terror. A gentleman, 
 as Miss Edgeworth relates, had contracted, per- 
 haps from some fright in infancy, a great aver- 
 sion to spiders. One of his friends wishing to 
 cure him of what he thought an unreasonable 
 antipathy, made a resemblance in wax of a 
 large black spider which he held, partly con- 
 cealed in his hand. The spider-fearing gentle- 
 man immediately started back to the wall, 
 drawing his sword. The friend in vain assured 
 him that he held nothing but wax, the poor man 
 actually became convulsed. Here is a sad in- 
 stance of the effect of early and unreasonable 
 relations, established and strengthened by habit 
 into insurmountable antipathy. 
 
 Thought, produced by the mental percep- 
 tions, runs through the mind during the waking 
 hours, and perhaps during sleep in a perpetual 
 current. This is involuntary, and in the years 
 of infancy and childhood it seems almost un- 
 controuled, nearly resembling, unless directed 
 by the careful mother, delirium or insanity. It 
 is to this state of incoherent or arbitrary asso- 
 ciations that persons sometimes return in old 
 age. But as reason begins to assume the reins 
 of empire, thought becomes voluntary. Then 
 
ASSOCIATION. 213 
 
 it is that the pliant mind needs skilful direction, 
 else will the senses, and the feelings or the 
 prejudices of others, lead to such associations 
 as shall give a colouring to future life ; for at 
 this period it is that the mind forms habits of 
 thought ; speech and actions are but its expres- 
 sions, and will be in accordance with its sug- 
 gestions. Should children at this time be per- 
 mitted the companionship of the ignorant, the 
 vulgar and the immoral, the thoughts and the 
 habits of such companions will become asso- 
 ciated with the strongest emotions ; with the 
 affection that binds the young heart to the com- 
 panions of childhood. " Do not tell mamma 
 that you heard such things in the kitchen, she 
 is cross and will scold poor dear Susan, who 
 gives you nice things." I would not try to 
 learn all that long lesson, the teacher is very 
 unreasonable to expect you to be forever over 
 your books." "Every body wonders that your 
 father does not provide you with dress more 
 suitable to his fortune ; he has no need of such 
 economy." " Put on a sober face, yonder comes 
 the minister, now for a sermon." 
 
 With persons who are thus connecting a show 
 of affection with unworthy, unreasonable, and 
 immoral sentiments, are many children and 
 youth suffered to pass a great part of their time, 
 while the mother is otherwise engaged ; and 
 
214 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 thus are associations formed that will render 
 them vulgar, discontented and unreasonable ; 
 filling them with prejudice against their parents, 
 their teachers, the ministers of God, and religion 
 itself. Those, who thus indoctrinate young per- 
 sons into error and folly are not confined to the 
 class called domestics, they are in every rank 
 and situation in life ; found every where among 
 the gossiping members of society. 
 
 This part of our subject comes with intense 
 interest to the parent, the teacher and to the 
 young themselves. With amazing responsi- 
 bility must it strike the parent, to whom is en- 
 trusted the guardianship of the infant mind, the 
 direction of the opening reason, the formation 
 of the habits that will probably fix the character, 
 and decide the happiness or wretchedness of 
 life ; it may be of eternity. The teacher will 
 see its importance, when the connection between 
 a well ordered train of thought, and the mem- 
 ory and understanding is considered. Much 
 instruction must be thrown away, unless correct 
 relations can be established, and order preserved 
 in the mental associations of the pupils. The 
 retaining of knowledge and the ability to reason 
 or judge properly, depend upon this. 
 
 To you my young friends I would say, that 
 if you have already, at this early period of your 
 lives, contracted habits of thought that you 
 
ASSOCIATION. 215 
 
 now judge incorrect, indulging in unreasonable 
 hopes, or fears, or prejudices ; you have yet 
 power within you to overcome such habits. You 
 have reason to enlighten you, as to whether the 
 associations formed in your minds be correct, 
 and you have voluntary power, sufficient to break 
 up what in thought is unreasonable, consequently 
 incorrect. Especially would I urge you to have 
 a care of whatever would influence your moral 
 and eternal relations. Beware of associates who 
 exhibit vulgarity in speech, in manner, or even 
 in the hidden meaning of a word ; refuse to 
 listen to those who speak evil of the things or 
 persons whom your own judgment and con- 
 science tell you should be venerated. What- 
 ever does dishonour to religion, avoid as you 
 would the coil of a serpent. Be assured that 
 the sarcastic joke, the promised pleasure, the 
 kind commiseration, though at first disregarded 
 by you, will have their effect ; they will find a 
 corrupt principle within coinciding with the 
 outward temptation ; your only safety is in 
 flight, while you put up a prayer for aid to the 
 Almighty. 
 
216 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 Attention, as we have seen is a voluntary act. 
 whereby we direct our observation to any one 
 object or subject, for the purpose of examina- 
 tion. A landscape, for instance strikes upon 
 the mind as a whole. The arching heavens, 
 the mirrored lake ; the dark woods, the green 
 fields and the white cottages form a beautiful 
 assemblage upon Which the mind rests with an 
 emotion of pleasure ; but as it carries on a higher 
 operation, attention fixes itself upon the partic- 
 ulars in this group of objects, so that they are 
 surveyed one after another, in smaller groups or 
 as individuals. These particulars are classed 
 as land, as water, as sky : and again other par- 
 ticulars are noticed of each of these ; the hea- 
 vens are blue, arched and variegated with clouds ; 
 the earth green, and covered with vegetable and 
 animal life ; the water now calm and transpa- 
 rent, shadowing forth the beauties of field and 
 sky, anon turbid and foaming when lashed by 
 the changing winds. As the mind passes from 
 general conceptions to particulars, its emo- 
 tions subside, and philosophic research takes 
 place.* 
 
 * Note J. 
 
ABSTRACTION. 217 
 
 An object, for instance a tree, presents itself to 
 us not in a simple, but complex state. We per- 
 ceive it as it stands, with trunk, branches, leaves 
 and fruit ; the fruits arrest our attention and we 
 recollect to have seen those which were similar. 
 Upon examination they are found to be the 
 same, in kind, and we refer the tree to tire same 
 class as those which bear like fruits, and thus 
 a collection of trees is arranged according to 
 some one attribute found in a number of them, 
 not discoverable in others. That voluntary act 
 of attention by which we disregard every thing 
 in an object except certain qualities that we 
 desire to notice, is called abstraction. Let us 
 imagine a party of persons, of different occu- 
 pations, travelling together for amusement. The 
 geologist disregarding forest and field, descends 
 from his carriage to investigate the nature of 
 the soil and to possess himself of pieces of stone 
 and rock; the botanist stops to examine the 
 plants ; the painter notices light and shade, to- 
 gether with the fine points of landscape. The 
 farmer sees nothing but the crops ripening for 
 the harvest, the speculator seeks only a good 
 location for an imaginary city. You will per- 
 ceive that each one directs his attention to that 
 particular, which, either from interest or plea- 
 sure, occupies his thoughts, disregarding every 
 other. 
 
218 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 White is the colour of chalk, of milk, of snow 
 and of other objects. In the imagination we 
 abstract this quality from bodies and call it 
 whiteness. Hence the origin of abstract terms. 
 We speak of virtue without reference to any- 
 particular virtuous person, so of happiness; and 
 these terms have in our minds a definite mean- 
 ing. All those persons possessing the qualities 
 which we attach to these terms, are distinguished 
 by the appellation of the virtuous or the happy ; 
 and thus we designate mankind by classes. We 
 talk of truth, falsehood, vanity, injustice ; and 
 we call persons the faithful, the false, the vain, 
 the unjust. In this ability to distinguish objects 
 by their qualities, and to set out, or seperate, 
 any one object pr quality, disregarding all 
 others, do we find the origin of scientific re- 
 search. Objects are known by their qualities 
 or attributes, and by some particular attribute 
 or quality are they distinguished from each 
 other. These attributes constitute differences, 
 greater or less, and the understanding is em- 
 ployed in making or remarking them. Man, is, 
 in one sense, an animal, but he differs greatly 
 from the quadruped, which goes on four feet ; 
 he differs still more from the bird which though 
 it walks upon two feet raises itself in the air on 
 wings ; still greater is the difference remarked 
 between man and the fish or the reptile, that 
 
ABSTRACTION. 219 
 
 moves without feet. Among quadrupeds, the 
 monkey tribes that go erect, approach nearest 
 to him in appearance, the dog resembles him 
 most in understanding and in feeling ; but man 
 evidently belongs to another race of beings ; his 
 distinguishing mark is his rational and moral 
 nature. 
 
 " All general principles are founded on clas- 
 sifications which imply the exercise of abstrac- 
 tion," but classification depends on a knowledge 
 of the particulars which mark the essential dif- 
 ferences ; so that in order to generalize we must 
 also particularize. Hence we infer that the 
 correctness of our general views depend, in 
 the first place, upon an extensive and minute 
 knowledge of facts or particulars, in the second 
 place upon a sound judgment, directing the 
 attention to the points in a subject that predom- 
 inate, or are most remarkable. Thus the vari- 
 eties in the human family are reduced to a few 
 races as the European, American, Mongolian, 
 African and Asiatic. In the theory of politics 
 the different forms of government are by the 
 means of abstracting a few of their peculiarities, 
 resolved into three ; monarchy, aristocracy and 
 democracy. The botanist, passing by other 
 particulars in plants, attends to the number of 
 stamens found in their blossoms, and arranges 
 them accordingly. 
 
220 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 From this explanation you will perceive that 
 the higher exercise of the understanding, and 
 even of reason itself, is necessary to arrive at 
 truth in the establishment of general principles. 
 Plato in his definition of man, called him an 
 animal without feathers who walked on two 
 feet. Diogenes, the cynic, entering the place 
 where the above philosopher was instructing 
 his disciples, threw among the assembly a fowl 
 which he had stripped of its feathers, exclaim- 
 ing, "Behold Plato's man." It would seem 
 that the very Reason, about which this great 
 philosopher so ably discoursed, might have in- 
 structed him to make that attribute of the mind 
 the essential difference between men and brutes. 
 To be able to form correct general conceptions 
 of truth marks a high order of intellect ; of 
 this, Newton and Bacon are eminent examples. 
 Minds so constituted seem to have the power of 
 putting aside all associating ideas, and glancing 
 along the line of thought, possess themselves of 
 the facts, which set the subject they contem- 
 plate in its clearest light. After them, come the 
 patient labourers, who by experiment, by inves- 
 tigation, and the arrangement of particulars, 
 " build up science in its fair proportions. " # 
 
 Wonderful indeed is this power of abstracting 
 the mind from the outward perceptions which 
 
 * Note L. 
 
ABSTRACTION. 221 
 
 seem to confine it to present and surrounding 
 objects ; thus enabling it to anticipate by ages 
 the discovery of truths the farthest removed 
 above ordinary apprehension ; to conjecture as 
 did Claire nt the existence of a seventh planet; 
 to infer as did Newton, from the refraction of light 
 the inflammable quality of the diamond. Still 
 more marvellous is that process of thought, by 
 which the mind without external aid, borrowing 
 nothing from the objects of sense, enters into 
 the most abstruse investigations of mathemat- 
 ical science. This power of abstracting thought, 
 and of divesting it of every thing foreign to the 
 subject under consideration, is not in itself inven- 
 tion, it is the means by which invention is ren- 
 dered effectual ; it is the voluntary effort by 
 which the mind puts forth its power, by which 
 it asserts its personality, and constitutes an 
 essential difference between intellect and in- 
 tellect. 
 
 Where this fixedness of thought is not found 
 to exist, a confusion of ideas takes place, ob- 
 scure reveries insue, and no subject remains 
 clearly and definitely marked in the under- 
 standing. The great German scholar, Herder, 
 who did so much for the better understanding 
 of the Sacred Scriptures, as well as other clas- 
 sical works ; who contributed so much to the 
 study of nature and of human character, speaks 
 
222 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 thus of himself. " In early years when the 
 fields of knowledge lay before me, with the 
 glow of a morning sun, the idea often occurred 
 to my mind, whether like other great subjects 
 of thought, each of which has its philosophy 
 and science, that subject also which lies nearest 
 our hearts — the history of mankind, viewed as 
 a whole, might not also have its philosophy and 
 science. Every thing reminded me of this 
 idea, metaphysics and morals, natural philos- 
 ophy and natural history, lastly, and most pow- 
 erfully, religion." Here is the example of a 
 great mind taking a comprehensive view of the 
 history of mankind, making of it a science ; 
 this is the only way to be benefitted by its study. 
 
 Leibnitz, also, who had surveyed the whole 
 field of science with a penetrating eye, had his 
 attention early directed to mathematical re- 
 searches ; in his sixteenth year he was' occu- 
 pied in considering the differences of those 
 numbers whose succession forms a regular 
 series. He thus arrived at the law of constant 
 magnitudes. The researches of this great man 
 have been of immense service to the progress 
 of reason and of science. He read every thing, 
 and made short extracts in writing of whatever 
 he accounted valuable. 
 
 In this exercise of mind three acts are ne- 
 cessary ; first, attention or regarding a subject 
 
ABSTRACTION. 223 
 
 with fixed contemplation ; second withholding 
 the attention from all but one part, or a few of its 
 parts ; third generalizing or putting together 
 resemblances so as to form classes. There is 
 great pleasure as well as utility in this opera- 
 tion of thought, and though children are averse 
 to general views, yet are they fond of analogies ; 
 therefore with them it is best to begin with the 
 details, causing the pupil to remark the dif- 
 ferences as well as the analogies in objects and 
 subjects. Introduce an intelligent child into a 
 museum of Natural History, and he will quickly 
 select the different objects that fall under his 
 observation, and arrange them into kinds or 
 classes ; quadrupeds, birds, fishes, insects, shells, 
 minerals. With a little pains he may be taught 
 to perceive in what particulars the several spe- 
 cies of animals agree and in what they differ. 
 Thus will he learn to distinguish and to clas- 
 sify. So in politics, and religion, or other sub- 
 jects, young persons should be made to under- 
 stand the agreement as well as the differences 
 in opinions, and being thus instructed will they 
 in time have clear, as well as general and ex- 
 tensive views of truth. To rest in particulars 
 is a grand defect in education ; the great prin- 
 ciples of a science being understood, the facts 
 will readily range themselves in their proper 
 places. A pupil desired to learn Arithmetic, 
 
224 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 but would only be instructed from a certain 
 book. And why ? because she expected to be- 
 come a teacher, and wished to do every sum 
 contained in the book she should be required to 
 teach. A knowledge of the principles would 
 have enabled her to go through the various ope- 
 rations of Arithmetic wherever she met them. 
 
 But the human intellect is ever prone to run 
 into extremes, and it certainly is a matter of 
 prime importance to preserve it in proper bal- 
 ance. Some minds err in generalizing too much, 
 as the musician who believed that God created 
 the world in six days and rested on the seventh 
 because there were but seven notes in music, 
 or the mathematician who insisted upon having 
 the existence of God and the immortality of the 
 soul proved by mathematical demonstration. 
 These persons generalize in their own partic- 
 ular manner ; that is, they form general princi- 
 ples out of such particulars as reason would 
 never establish as generals, and thus their minds 
 become purile and contracted. It is said of the 
 geologist Werner, that he was so fond of divi- 
 ding and classifying that he bought books not 
 to study but to arrange in his library ; also, that 
 the order of his dinner-table was to him a mat- 
 ter of the same importance. 
 
 A reproach is often cast upon men of learn- 
 ing that they dwell so exclusively on one sub- 
 
ABSTRACTION. 225 
 
 ject as to unfit them for the various and com- 
 mon duties of life. That this is the case of 
 many is but too true, it being a natural conse- 
 quence of keeping the attention fixed in an un- 
 divided manner upon any one thing. This will 
 so increase in importance, while every other 
 object lessens, that at last it becomes absorbing, 
 and all other things dwindle to a point almost 
 imperceptible. A sixpence held sufficiently 
 near the eye will hide from its sight the immense 
 body of the sun itself. Who knows whether in 
 a sort of monomania, the abused person may 
 not be induced to call the sixpence the sun ! 
 
 This sort of aberration is noted more espe- 
 cially in those whose thoughts are exclusively 
 turned to one subject. An example of this is 
 found in La Fontaine, the French poet, who in 
 his devotion to the exercise of the imagination 
 forgot all the sober duties of life, his affairs fell 
 into disorder, he seldom saw his family, and 
 knew not even his own son whom he met as a 
 stranger in Paris. This abstraction rendered 
 him insensible also to bodily inconveniences. 
 A lady of his acquaintance going one morning 
 to Versailles saw La Fontaine under a tree, in 
 deep thought ; returning in the evening, she 
 found him still in the same place, without any 
 change in his attitude, although the weather 
 
 was cold, and a heavy rain had fallen during: 
 15 
 
226 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 the day. The poet Dante entered, the shop of 
 a bookseller to see a procession, but taking up 
 a book, he became so absorbed that he declared, 
 he had neither seen nor heard any thing of what 
 had passed. It is related of Hogarth the cele- 
 brated painter that going in his coach to visit 
 the Lord Mayor of London, he forgot the door 
 by which he entered and ^passing out at another, 
 he walked home in a shower of rain. His wife 
 who saw him come in drenched, asked what 
 had become of his carriage ? this brought to his 
 recollection the circumstance that he had gone 
 out in one. 
 
 The great musician Mozart is another instance 
 of the sort of imbecility that sometimes is the 
 accompaniment of genius. He was by Haydn 
 called a truly great musician : "I have, said 
 he, been flattered by my friends with having 
 some genius, but he was much my superior." 
 In other respects Mozart was a mere child ; so 
 destitute was he of economy and prudence, that 
 though for many years he had a vast income, 
 yet he left nothing to his children but the celeb- 
 rity of his name. 
 
 The above examples strikingly show a want 
 of proper balance in the intellectual powers. 
 In contrasting such men with Herder, with 
 Newton and with our own Franklin we are 
 amazed at the difference. These truly great 
 
ABSTRACTION. 227 
 
 minds were eminent in their ability to gene- 
 ralize. Newton has been called the creator of 
 Natural Philosophy ; Franklin has succeeded in 
 disarming the lightening of its terrors ; but these 
 great men confined not the amazing powers of 
 their active spirits to one object. They were 
 energetically engaged in the duties of life, and 
 holding high and important offices in the ser- 
 vice of their several nations, they disdained not 
 to fill with affectionate attention the private sta- 
 tion allotted to every man. Newton indeed at 
 the close of life gave himself almost wholly to 
 what he considered its greatest concern, the 
 study of the Sacred Word and preparatiou for 
 Eternity. Herder, upon whose tomb the Grand 
 Duke of Weimer caused to be inscribed the 
 words "Light, Love, Life," was a model of virtue 
 and ready to do all the good in his power, yet 
 so sensible at times was he of his deficiency 
 that he often exclaimed, "Oh my profitless life." 
 Franklin was remarkable for the versatility 
 of his mind, for his ability to attend to any sub- 
 ject that presented itself, and his willingness so 
 to do when he considered it useful to others. 
 Holding an eminent station in the national coun- 
 cils of his country, and " held by all Europe in 
 high estimation for his knowledge and wisdom," 
 Jie did not disdain to turn his thoughts to the 
 instruction of children, of apprentices and of the 
 
228 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 poor. He was eminent for his prudence, and 
 economy ; he considered time the " material of 
 which life was made, 1 ' and so careful was he 
 in his economy of it that he wasted not his hours 
 in committing to memory, but minuted down 
 such facts as occurred to him, in reading or in 
 contemplation on any subject in which he was 
 making research, and then laid them away for 
 future use. Franklin's cheerfulness and good 
 nature were remarkable ; he was always happy 
 and entertaining while he strove in conversation 
 and in writing to impress useful truths upon 
 others. 
 
 When there is not that balance among the 
 intellectual powers, which enables the mind to 
 elevate itself to high and general conceptions, 
 and at the same time to descend to the partic- 
 ulars that come under them, it cannot be capa- 
 ble of that exercise of thought which is attendant 
 on genius ; it is liable to be carried into extremes, 
 and by fixing itself too intently on one sub- 
 ject to fall into a sort of aberration or monamania. 
 The case of a person carried beyond reason and 
 revelation by the subject of the millenium is an 
 example of this. Dr. Buchanan when a student 
 became acquainted with a young man whose 
 whole conversation turned on experimental phi- 
 losophy and mathematics. " I have not, said 
 he, seen a young man so mathematic-mad in 
 
ABSTRACTION. 229 
 
 my life. During the whole evening I spent with 
 him, his head was continually wool-gathering 
 after rhomboids and parallelograms. He as- 
 sures me that if I do not study mathematics 
 very diligently, I shall have no chance for hon- 
 ours. I told him a mediocrity of applause would 
 content me. He observed that seven hours a 
 day studying mathematics would be sufficient 
 for that." " How much reason," exclaims the 
 pious Buchanan, "is there for that double-guard 
 of prayer and close walking with God, in order 
 that I may be enabled to pass through the fire 
 unhurt." 
 
 How necessary indeed that in the cultivation 
 of our mental powers, we seek to do all for the 
 glory of Him who bestowed them. This sin- 
 gleness of purpose will keep us from such un- 
 measured ardour in any one intellectual pursuit 
 as will at last tend to throw the mind from its 
 balance and disorder the Reason. With the 
 precepts and example of our blessed Redeemer 
 in view, we shall feel, that to love the Lord with 
 all the heart, does not at all accord with an 
 inordinate desire after the glory of holding our- 
 selves in the ranks of the learned and the great. 
 Though science may be delightful, it will keep 
 its proper, that is its secondary place in our 
 esteem. It will be the servant through whose 
 means we may be the better enabled to bestow 
 
230 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 the cup of cold water upon the poor and de- 
 spised one ; to win by affection the wayward and 
 perverse ; to carry the little children in our arms, 
 while we communicate to the ignorant in the 
 most simple manner, truths the most momentous. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Of all the creatures of this earth, man is the 
 only being endowed with reason. Brutes have 
 instinct and in them it is perfect, for it suffices 
 to give them all the knowledge their situation 
 requires. Created for this earth, and as we are 
 told in Scripture, for the service of man, they 
 fulfil their brief destiny and perish. In them 
 we perceive no developement of intellect, no 
 signs of self-knowledge, no taste for mental en- 
 joyment, no understanding of moral relations, 
 no knowledge of necessary truth. They have 
 no reason. 
 
 Reason, according to the definition of Cole- 
 ridge, is "the power of universal and necessary 
 convictions, the source and substance of truths 
 above sense, and having their evidence in them- 
 selves." According to Hooker, it is an " in^ 
 ward beholding," having the same relation to 
 
REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 231 
 
 the intelligible as sense has to the material." 
 Cousin says, " All light comes from Reason ; 
 it is reason which perceives itself; and the sen- 
 sibility which envelopes it." 
 
 The mind believes whatever is necessarily 
 true. That beings or material objects exist, is 
 a truth to which the reason immediately assents, 
 there can be no doubt respecting it ; the senses 
 are the testimony, and reason believes. That 
 the soul or mind exists independently of the 
 body is a truth, attested by Consciousness, or 
 the internal Perception, and believed by Rea- 
 son. The person who is conscious that he 
 thinks and feels, calls himself I, and firmly be- 
 lieves that he is ; doubt would be absurdity. 
 He also has an irresistible conviction, that he, 
 the person who now exercises thought and feel- 
 ing, is the- same, who, on a certain subject ex- 
 ercised thought and feeling, some weeks, or 
 months or years ago ; which thoughts and feel- 
 ings are brought back to him by memory. Hi& 
 reason assents to the facts brought before it by 
 memory, as well as to those exhibited by per- 
 ception external, or internal. It is reason which 
 attests personal identity, which discovers or 
 rather believes the me and the not me. 
 
 Cold and heat are sensations felt by the body, 
 but the senses do not seek the cause ; it is the 
 Reason which enquires why do I feel cold, or 
 
232 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 heat ? It is reason which discovers body and 
 its qualities causing sensation. I move my 
 hand. What causes the motion ? was it any 
 thing in the hand itself? not at all; the cause 
 is in the mind. But what makes the enquiry ? 
 Is it the hand which performs the movement ? 
 is it the eye which sees it, or the lips which 
 utter the words ? no, the enquiry arises in the 
 mind. It is reason which perceives the relation 
 of cause and effect. A watch is presented for 
 the first time to the examination of a child ; 
 he notices the movement of the hands, and 
 enquires, what causes the motion ? You open 
 the watch and shew him the wheels, but he is 
 not satisfied. How do the wheels move the 
 hands, what relation is there between them ? 
 and then comes another enquiry, momentous 
 indeed, how was this relation formed I who 
 made the watch ? A looking-glass was placed 
 before a newly arrived African ; he saw his 
 own face, but knew not that the image repre- 
 sented himself, for quick as thought he turned 
 the mirror to see from whence it came. Here 
 is untutored reason seeking for cause, for reason 
 exists in all minds, the child and savage have 
 it as well as the aged and the enlightened. Rea- 
 son naturally seeks for truth, but the Will often 
 dissolves the court, and waits not for the answer.* 
 * Note M. 
 
REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 233 
 
 It is difficult to look at reason in the abstract. 
 Cousin says, " in itself it is impersonal ; it be- 
 longs to no one individual more than to another 
 within the compass of humanity : it belongs not 
 even to humanity itself. Its laws consequently 
 depend only on themselves ; they preside over 
 and govern humanity, which perceives them, 
 as well as nature which represents them, but 
 they neither belong to the one nor to the other."* 
 
 By reason, in the above passage, we must 
 understand Truth or reality in material things 
 which are the objects of sensation, or truth in 
 intellectual and moral things which do not come 
 under the observation of the senses. Reason 
 in the human mind is the power it has of dis- 
 covering truth. In the Divine Mind it is Truth, 
 itself, necessary and Eternal.f 
 
 Coleridge distinguishes between Reason and 
 Understanding in man, in the following manner : 
 
 1. There is an intuition and immediate be- 
 holding, accompanied by a conviction of the 
 necessity and universality of the truth so be- 
 holden, not derived from the senses ; which 
 intuition, when it is construed by pure sense, 
 gives birth to the science of mathematics ; and 
 when applied to objects supersensuous or spir- 
 itual, is the organ of theology and philosophy. 
 
 2. There is likewise a reflective and discus- 
 . * Psychology : translated by Dr. Henry. f Note N. 
 
234 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 sive faculty or mediate apprehension, which 
 taken by itself and uninfluenced by the former, 
 depends on the senses for the materials on 
 which it is exercised, and is contained within 
 the sphere of the senses. And this faculty it 
 is, which in generalizing the notices of the 
 senses, constitutes sensible experience, and 
 gives rise to maxims or rules which may become 
 more and more general, but can never be raised 
 into universal verities, or beget a consciousness 
 of absolute certainty ; though they may be suf- 
 ficient to extinguish all doubt.* 
 
 M}~ young friends, it is not my intention to 
 carry you far into the labyrinths of this subject, 
 but it is my desire to place before you, thoughts, 
 abstract though they be, which may lead you 
 to reflection. Study can never profit unless it 
 leads to so much labour of thought as to make 
 it mental exercise. The illustrations and facts 
 set before you in these Lectures are not intended 
 for your amusement, they are designed to assist 
 you in the difficult task of self-examination. 
 Without reflection on the operations of your 
 own minds, all my labour in unfolding these 
 principles, as well as your time, will be lost. 
 Mental Philosophy is the study of yourselves. 
 
 Look then within, and perhaps you will soon 
 begin to discover foundation for the distinction 
 
 * Aids to Reflection. 
 
REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 235 
 
 made in the above passages between, Reason 
 and Understanding. Reason is here applied to 
 necessary truth, truth which it perceives as the 
 eye perceives objects, immediately ; accom- 
 panied with certainty or fixed belief. The Un- 
 derstanding is employed in comparing, analy- 
 sing, and judging ; it arrives at conclusions, but 
 they are not certain. Reason says it must be 
 so ; Understanding says it may be so. Reason 
 decides from the nature of things, Understand- 
 ing employs experience, it seeks analogies, 
 probabilities and comparisons. In Reason we 
 have the foundation of demonstration, in Under- 
 standing the foundation of probability. 
 
 In necessary mathematical truth reason ar- 
 rives at a conclusion before experience. Thus 
 that a part is less than a whole, or that two 
 sides of an equilateral triangle are greater than 
 a third, would be immediately admitted by rea- 
 son ; no process is required to come at the con- 
 clusion, but judgment or understanding would 
 examine by measuring, or comparing. Reason 
 when applied to sensible objects, as in the above 
 example, is the foundation of mathematical truth, 
 when applied to what is above the senses or not 
 discoverable by them, it is used in truth that 
 may be called metaphysical, that is, in what- 
 ever relates to immaterial subjects. 
 
 The Understanding referring itself to com- 
 
236 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 parison, experience, and reflection, admits no 
 higher evidence than probability ; this, in some 
 cases, may create in the mind the consciousness 
 of certainty. Reason does not aiBrm that on 
 the other side of the globe there is such a city 
 as Pekin ; nevertheless the Understanding as- 
 sents to it, because it is as probable that there 
 is a city called by that name in China, as that 
 there is one called Philadelphia in America, 
 and from the united testimony of travellers the 
 mind comes to a conclusion that there can be 
 no doubt about it. This conclusion is not the 
 same as the affirmation made by the mind in 
 the fact, I see. Reason affirms there must be 
 eyes to see with. The contrary would be in- 
 credible to every rational person. To say there 
 is no such city as Pekin would not be incred- 
 ible to the uninformed. The king who asserted 
 that it was impossible water should become 
 hard, said nothing absurd. He had never seen 
 ice, nor would he believe Christian travellers, 
 whom his prejudices made him take for liars. 
 Not to believe that I see the objects before me, 
 or that my mind which thinks and feels does 
 not exist, is an absurdity. . Reason cannot con- 
 sent to it, neither can reason assent to two con- 
 tradictory propositions, if one be true the other 
 must be false. If it be true that nothing ever 
 made itself, or came without a cause, then to 
 
REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 237 
 
 assert that this earth and all material things, as 
 well as mind itself, exists without a cause, is an 
 absurdity. 
 
 The adaptation of every thing to its partic- 
 ular use, and every creature to its condition, 
 strikes upon the understanding, as the effect of 
 design ; reason says, the Designer is the Cause. 
 The herbage springing from the little seed covers 
 the earth with verdure delightful and refreshing 
 to the eye, fatigued with the bright glare of the 
 sunbeams ; but this light causes the grass to 
 grow, and is necessary that man may obtain 
 complete knowledge of material objects, and 
 enjoy the beauty spread in profusion upon the 
 earth and heavens. Soon this enjoyment is 
 marred, for the heavy clouds hide the fair skies, 
 the light is obscured, and a shadow is cast over 
 every object. The rains descend, the torrents 
 rise, man and beast withdraw shivering and 
 comfortless to their shelter. But the raging of 
 the storm now ceases ; the blue heavens ap- 
 pear far beyond the scudding clouds, and balmy 
 breezes, with healthful influences, soon efface 
 all traces of the tempest. Now the sweet song- 
 sters emerge from their leafy coverts, tuning 
 high their melody, while they refresh their swel- 
 ling throats with the sparkling rain-drops, and 
 flap their little wings in the cooling breeze. The 
 cattle low with desire as they hasten to the fresh 
 
238 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 washed pasture, and bathe their dusty coats in 
 the overflowing rivulets. Man again breathes 
 freely in an atmosphere cleared from its noxious 
 vapours, and rejoices in the perfume of the 
 brightening flowers, and the prospect of abun- 
 dant harvests. Here understanding perceives 
 desirable effects resulting from undesirable 
 causes ; but reason ascending from cause to 
 cause, discovers the Infinite Designer, the First 
 Great Cause, the Wise and Good, adapting all 
 for use and happiness. 
 
 Imagination may here go back to the creation 
 of all things, and figure to itself a period be- 
 yond, a period when created intelligences were 
 not ; and here Reason reels upon its throne, 
 when it contemplates the Uncreated One in 
 solitary grandeur. Conception fails ; but Rea- 
 son maintains the necessary existence of the 
 First Great Cause. 
 
 But Reason stops not here, for it turns its 
 vision upon itself and discovers in the light of 
 Consciousness, the thinking, active feeling soul, 
 in solemn relation to its Creator, with affections 
 alienated from Him. The consequence per- 
 ceived must be exposure to the retributions of 
 Divine Justice. Here is the religion of Nature. 
 This is the light in the mind, by which the invis- 
 ible things of God from the creation being clearly 
 seen, leaves the whole heathen world without 
 
REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 239 
 
 excuse. This light has never been extinguished, 
 even in the darkest ages of Heathenism. The 
 conception of the Deity, has indeed been de- 
 formed by the Imagination, and passion has 
 trampled upon the moral obligations of man ; 
 while his wishes have framed such immortality 
 and future judgment as suited his corrupt na- 
 ture ; but man has in every clime, in every age, 
 and under every circumstance, acknowledged 
 a Creating Cause. "A God, a God," has been 
 proclaimed by every tongue, for a " God ap- 
 pears" in the Heavens above, on the earth be- 
 neath, and upon the deep waters that encircle 
 it. God speaks in man himself, in his wonder- 
 fully organized frame, in his godlike intellect, 
 and moral nature. Reason is the voice of God 
 within him that continues to enquire, " Where 
 art thou" ? what rank dost thou hold in creation, 
 and why hidest thou thyself from thy Creator ? 
 Conscience cries in the silent hour of night, in 
 the season of peril, at »the approach of death 
 " What hast thou done ? the blood of thy injured 
 brother, of thy injured soul cries to me from the 
 ground." 
 
 In the hideous imagery of the Hindoo we per- 
 ceive his idea of overwhelming Power. Cast- 
 ing himself beneath the crushing wheels of his 
 bloody idol, we find the acknowledgment of 
 subjection to this Power ; and when the waves 
 
240 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 of the Ganges circle in eddies over the form of 
 his drowning offspring, the cry of nature in his 
 heart is, "I have sinned, will God accept the 
 fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ?" His 
 rational conscience exhibits to him the deprav- 
 ity of his nature, the immortality of his soul, 
 and the retributive justice of his God. 
 
 The learned Greeks, though they raised altars 
 to the Unknown God, despised and condemned 
 the man who doubted his existence. Plato 
 regarded three crimes equally punishable with 
 death ; the first denying the existence of a Deity, 
 or God, the second denying that they care for 
 men ; the third attempting to propitiate the 
 Gods toward criminal conduct, making these 
 pure beings accomplices in crime. " Better," 
 said Plutarch, " be convinced by Plato that the 
 world was made by God, for the world is the 
 most excellent of all created things, and He the 
 best of all causes." " Let us, said Plato, choose 
 the best human reason and sitting on it like a 
 raft, pass through the dangers of life ; unless 
 some one can pass us over more easily and safely 
 upon some stronger vehicle or divine word." 
 
 Here is the highest stretch of human reason, 
 doubting its own ability to pass safely through 
 the dangers of life, it looks up to some stronger 
 vehicle, some divine revelation ; and standing 
 in the person of the Centurion, amid the agonies 
 
REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 241 
 
 and wonders of Calvary, it exclaimed, " Truly 
 this was the Son of God !" 
 
 "The fool hath said in his heart there is no 
 God ;" no soul, no immortality. Truly does the 
 Divine Word call such an one a " fool," though 
 he may perchance have walked among the 
 learned, and ranked among the wise, yet so 
 far has he departed from rationality, as to 
 " speak evil of the things he understands not," 
 and gravely utter the greatest absurdities. He 
 dares declare, and unblushingly, in the face of 
 reasonable men, that " the external world does 
 not exist ; or at least its existence may be rea- 
 sonably doubted. That the universe exists in 
 the mind and the mind does not really exist ; 
 that man in all his perceptions, actions and voli- 
 tions is a mere passive machine, and has no sep- 
 arate existence of his own, being entirely made 
 up of other things, of the existence of which he 
 is by no means certain. That as the existence 
 of the external world is questionable, we are at 
 a loss to find arguments by which we may prove 
 the existence of the Supreme Being or any of His 
 attributes," and to prove that he utterly rejects 
 reason, he says, " We ought to doubt of every 
 thing ; the utmost that philosophy can do, is to 
 give us a doubtful solution of doubtful doubts."* 
 
 * Extracted from a Summary of Hume's Doctrines, 
 published before his death, given by Dr. Brownlee. 
 16 
 
242 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 I would not my friends shock you with a re- 
 capitulation of these absurdities, were it not that 
 in some form or other they may in future pre- 
 sent themselves to you ; and doubtless you are 
 now ready to ask, how, if man be furnished with 
 reason as has just been asserted, can he possi- 
 bly frame such absurdities ? 
 
 " The spirit of a man is the candle of the 
 Lord, and it was Eternal Truth that lighted 
 this candle."* The reason of man at his crea- 
 tion reflected the Supreme Intelligence, Truth 
 necessary and eternal ; but when in an evil hour 
 his sensual conception took in the beauty, and 
 his imagination the deliciousness of the only for- 
 bidden object in creation, desire for it sprung 
 up in his mind. Then the " Understanding be- 
 coming darkened," aspired after a knowledge 
 higher than the simple truth with which the 
 Creator in infinite wisdom had been pleased to 
 furnish it. Here commenced a departure from 
 the dictates of true wisdom or reason ; the rea- 
 sonings of the sensual mind or understanding 
 took its place, probabilities were admitted ; 
 comparisons between the Almighty and the 
 creature of His power were ventured, and the 
 subtle sophistry of doubting the Divine Word, 
 ended in charging falsehood upon the God of 
 Truth. From this time, given over to mental 
 * Henry. 
 
REASON AND UNDEESTANDING. 243 
 
 delusion, the perverted mind of man has sought 
 out its own devices, and been filled with false 
 and foolish imaginings ; it judges by sense and 
 experience, and Reason though forced like Ba- 
 laam, the wicked prophet to witness to the truth, 
 yet glad is the sensual understanding to turn 
 away, seeking for it other altars, if so be other 
 testimony may be granted ; and in cowardly and 
 unhallowed allegiance, does Reason submit to 
 the proud dominion of the understanding. 
 
 Blessed be the Father of Spirits, who at the 
 creation of man, bestowed upon him the attribute 
 of reason — reason which though humbled and 
 fallen, cannot believe contradictions even when 
 glossed over by the sophistry of science, falsely 
 so called. The Atheist indeed in the perversity 
 of his Will, so abuses his reason as to render it 
 a slave to his desires. The Deist with " darkened 
 understanding," "not liking to retain God in his 
 thoughts," " changes His truth into a lie," and 
 defaces the " glory of the incorruptible God" 
 by fashioning His moral attributes after His 
 own vain imagination, robbing Him of the sove- 
 reignty of His Justice and his Mercy. Such 
 persons have altered in their own judgments 
 the immutable principles of right, and com- 
 paring the Holy and the Just One with them- 
 selves, and their own desires of good, they form 
 a code of morality at variance, both with the 
 
244 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 dictates of reason and the commands of the 
 Divine Law. 
 
 But the godlike nature of man will not suffer 
 him to rest in quiet subjection to his sensual 
 understanding. Genius may exalt him to the 
 highest pinnacle of fame, and in his prosperity 
 he may call " evil good, and good evil." He 
 may discard the Divine Word as a fable and 
 worship Reason as a goddess, but when flesh 
 and heart are failing, with Voltaire and Dide- 
 rot he will turn to the ministers of that religion, 
 he affected to despise. The man whose phi- 
 losophy gives nothing to him but a doubtful 
 solution of doubtful doubts, will at last exclaim, 
 " I am confounded and affrighted at the forlorn 
 solitude in which I am placed by my philos- 
 ophy. When I look abroad I see on every side 
 dispute, contradiction and distraction. When 
 I turn my eye inward, I find nothing but doubt 
 and ignorance. Where am I, or what i From 
 what causes do I derive my existence and to 
 what condition shall I return ? I am confounded 
 with these questions, and begin to fancy myself 
 in the most deplorable condition imaginable, 
 environed with the deepest darkness."* 
 
 The Earl of Rochester, through his love of 
 pleasure and wit, had so sported with all the 
 moral and sacred duties of life that he was 
 
 * Hume's Treatise on Hum. Nat., quoted by Dr. Dick. 
 
REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 245 
 
 almost ready to affirm with the fool, " there is 
 no God;" but as he afterwards declared, "that 
 he had never known an entire Atheist, who fully 
 believed there was no God," he had always 
 some impressions of a Supreme Being, though 
 his notion of Him amounted to no more than 
 that of a vast power, with none of the attributes 
 of goodness and justice we ascribe to the Deity. 
 His moral sense was so debased that he freely 
 owned to Bishop Burnet, for whom he sent when 
 taken ill, that when he talked of morality it was 
 only as a decent way of speaking. The Earl 
 was a learned and accomplished man, and be- 
 came convinced of the immortality of his soul, 
 through the fact that when his body was low 
 and weak, his reason and judgment were clear 
 and strong. His illness was protracted, and 
 pious Bishop Burnet so forcibly set before him 
 the truth, that although the sophistry of his per- 
 verted mind long resisted, it at length was aban- 
 doned, and Lord Rochester acknowledged that 
 he saw vice and impiety were as contrary to 
 human society, as wild beasts let loose would 
 be ; and therefore he firmly resolved to change 
 the whole course of his life, to become strictly 
 just and true, to be chaste and temperate, to 
 forbear swearing and irreligious discourse, to 
 worship and pray to his Maker.* So far did 
 * Bishop Burnet's account of the Earl of Rochester 
 
246 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 the reason of this profligate nobleman carry 
 him, but it did not convince him of the truth of 
 Christianity. His religion at this period was 
 what is called the religion of Nature. The sequel 
 of his story remains to be told you at some future 
 time. What follows of it relates to Conscience 
 and the influence of the Holy Spirit. 
 
 Many seem to believe that mere reason is suf- 
 ficient to set the mind right in respect to duty, 
 forgetting that reason, as it now is, subjected to 
 the depraved and blinded understanding, and 
 overruled by obstinate will and lawless passion, 
 can never be to us a perfect guide. Without 
 referring to the Divine Word, there is suffi- 
 cient evidence of this in the various conflicting 
 opinions among the wisest and the best of man- 
 kind, who profess each one for himself to be 
 guided by reason and by conscience. If in the 
 matters that concern this world the best regu- 
 lated minds are not infallible in judgment, how 
 can it be supposed that human intelligence, can 
 of itself, clearly discover moral relations, or so 
 discovering, be trusted as a perfect guide ? The 
 experience and wisdom of ages is necessary be- 
 fore any one art or science can be brought to 
 what may be called, by us, in our limited view 
 of things, a state approaching perfection. How 
 then, can we, in the appalling view of a Holy 
 and Just God, and an eternal state of retribu- 
 
REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 247 
 
 lion, venture to trust to the feebleness of our own 
 reason, the subduing and renewing of that most 
 unmanageable of all things, our own Will ! 
 Reason may convey us near the gate of Heaven, 
 but it cannot disarm the Hand that carries the 
 flaming sword. It may enquire, " what shall I 
 do to inherit eternal life ?" but the reply, " sell 
 all that thou hast," give up thy proud aspirings 
 and follow the meek and lowly One, will send 
 it away disquieted. 
 
 At the death of Mrs. Grant, a late missionary 
 to Persia, whose wisdom and piety were of the 
 highest order, "our Mahommedan Meerza, says 
 Dr. Grant, wept repeatedly like a child, and 
 said he should never forget the words of wis- 
 dom Mrs. Grant had taught him ; that she had 
 very much righteousness, and had gone to par- 
 adise." Here, among these people, that reason 
 thus enlightens, all is consternation and dismay 
 when death approaches. But what is it that 
 cheers this tender female in the hour of dissolv- 
 ing nature, filling her whole soul with inexpres- 
 sible peace and rapture ! " She had faith in 
 Jesus," said the Meerza. This is the expres- 
 sive answer of a follower of Mohammed.* 
 
 Reason believes and trembles in the presence 
 of Infinite Wisdom and Power, but it does not 
 love. Human reason cannot love Infinite pu- 
 
 * Taken from a Letter of Dr. Grant. Miss. Herald. 
 
248 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 rity, for it belongs to a corrupt nature. The 
 corrupt understanding may sometimes scoff at 
 the " great things that God does, which it can- 
 not comprehend," yet no mystery of Revelation 
 is too hard to be admitted by reason ; and all 
 the precepts and commands of God must by it 
 be approved, for they are true to the character 
 of an all perfect Being. They cannot be other- 
 wise than they are. Reason must acquiesce, 
 for it does not admit absurdity. There are in- 
 deed mysteries which the Infinite Intelligence 
 or Reason did not judge fit to bring down to 
 finite creatures. To such mysteries whether 
 we find them in nature or in Redemption, let 
 us bow in adoring silence. Reason tells us 
 there must be such mysteries, it is the sensual 
 mind or understanding that rebels. 
 
 My young friends, I pray you examine this 
 subject. Many of you are now cavilling against 
 Divine Truth, or some part of it. But " do 
 yourselves no harm ;" use not the reasonings 
 of sense to your own undoing ; for thus will you 
 be like children who play with edged instru- 
 ments to their destruction. Look within, rea- 
 son convinces you of an immortal nature ; look 
 up, it points out an Almighty Creator ; look 
 abroad, it shows an accountability begun in this 
 world where you are subjected to the laws of 
 vour fellows. Look once more within, for con- 
 
JUDGMENT. 249 
 
 science assures you of judgment hereafter. 
 Listen then to this voice within you and seek 
 that Truth which alone can clear up the dark- 
 ened light of nature ; the light which " though 
 sullied and dishonoured is still divine." Seek 
 the Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot 
 receive, because it seeth Him not." Human 
 Reason cannot see Him, but Faith can, and 
 faith is the gift of God. '• Faith childlike and 
 submissive sits at the feet of Him, who is the 
 Life and the Light of the world. All beside is 
 darkness. To this perfect Reason must we 
 apply, bankrupt as we are ; no one of us can 
 supply his neighbour ; but in God there is full- 
 ness of wisdom, and He giveth freely to all who 
 ask, and upbraideth not. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 JUDGMENT. 
 
 Reason is that attribute in the mind of man 
 which distinguishes him from all the tribes of 
 the animal creation. By it he knows his own 
 existence and its continuance ; also the neces- 
 sary and essential relations of things, or causes 
 and effects. He knows the First Cause of all 
 
250 JUDGMENT. 
 
 things, and his own relation to Him as a rea- 
 sonable, immortal, and accountable being ; and 
 as a consequence of this, he knows there is a 
 future state of existence, with reward and 
 punishment annexed to present actions. This 
 knowledge, or belief, if we may so call it, is 
 intuitive in the human mind ; it is the property, 
 in degree, of the blind and the deaf, of the child 
 and the savage, and thus it is that " man is 
 equal to man ;" thus is he allied to high intelli- 
 gences, and to God himself. 
 
 But besides being immaterial, immortal and 
 accountable in his nature, man is earthly, sen- 
 sitive and perishable. To fit him for his exis- 
 tence on earth, he is provided with senses which 
 give to him a knowledge of the objects that sur- 
 round him, and understanding whereby he may 
 turn them to the best account in his own pres- 
 ervation and happiness. Before the mind is 
 sufficiently developed to perform its office prop- 
 erly, this knowledge is instinctive, as in the 
 infant. As this developement takes place the 
 understanding makes him acquainted with what- 
 ever comes under the cognizance of the senses, 
 and co-operating with reason, carries on its vol- 
 untary action, in attention, memory, conception, 
 association, reflection. Thus does the mind 
 encrease in knowledge as it advances in expe- 
 rience, and become prepared for the higher and 
 
JUDGMENT. 251 
 
 more delicate operations of abstraction, judg- 
 ment and imagination. 
 
 Brutes have an instinct that amounts to some- 
 thing very like understanding in men. This 
 has already been noticed, but as a considera- 
 tion of the fact may assist in the explanation of 
 this part of our subject, it will not be amiss here 
 to introduce some particulars. Many animals, 
 especially those that seem to be intended for 
 domestic service, such as the horse, and the 
 dog, often display in their actions something 
 very like that act of the understanding, called 
 judgment. A cow will learn to unlatch a gate, 
 a dog to shut a door, or go on errands. Lord 
 Brougham in his Dissertation on Science, men- 
 tions the instinct of wild horses in the forests of 
 Tartary and South America, where they are in 
 large herds. These animals seem to have an 
 instinctive knowledge of their exposure to be 
 taken, and that their only refuge is in flight. 
 While they sleep, each one of the drove, in rota- 
 tion, acts as sentinel ; and if a man approaches, 
 the sentinel walks towards him, as if to deter 
 him ; should the man advance, he neighs aloud, 
 in a peculiar tone, which rouses the herd, and 
 they all gallop off; the sentinel bringing up the 
 rear. Dogs learn to distinguish time. One be- 
 longing to a farmer, was shut up at home on 
 Sunday, while the family attended church at 
 
252 JUDGMENT. 
 
 some distance. When the morning came, the 
 dog would leave the house at an early hour, and 
 going through the wood, meet the family car- 
 riage at a cross-road. A dog in this village who 
 had been trained to watch his master's garden 
 on the Sabbath, on being transferred to another, 
 regularly left his new habitation on Sunday 
 morning, to watch in his accustomed manner, 
 his former owner's garden. 
 
 In these instances, and in many others that 
 might be produced, we see in brute animals 
 something so very like understanding in man, 
 that there are not wanting those who say, " if 
 this be called instinct, then all the actions of 
 human beings are impelled by instinct." I di- 
 rect your attention to this, in order that we may 
 make a proper discrimination between the ope- 
 ration of "judging according to sense," and 
 reason, the attribute which distinguishes the 
 human intellect from that of the mere sensitive 
 animal. In all the works of nature, we find 
 adaptation, that is a correspondence between 
 the nature of the being and the state in which 
 it is placed. Thus in common instances, the 
 parts in different classes of animals are adapted 
 to the elements in which they live. Birds have 
 wings by which they raise and sustain them- 
 selves in the air, their proper element; fish have 
 fins by which they propel themselves in the 
 
JUDGMENT. 253 
 
 water. Quadrupeds, which inhabit the earth, 
 are fitted by their organs for their manner of 
 life. They have limbs formed for flight and for 
 pursuit ; they have mouths adapted to browze 
 the herbage, or teeth for tearing the prey. 
 Those which live in colder climates have wool 
 to keep them warm, those inhabiting warm lati- 
 tudes are covered with a light coat of hair. The 
 round silky form of the mole is adapted to the 
 pathway he traces for himself under the ground ; 
 the stomach of the camel, provided with cavi- 
 ties to contain a large quantity of water, to liv- 
 ing in the desert where he travels, often many 
 days, without meeting with a spring at which 
 to quench his thirst. 
 
 Animals are also adapted by their instinct for 
 their different modes of existence. The oyster 
 barely opens its shell to receive nourishment; 
 the caterpiller crawls from plant to plant until 
 it finds the one destined for its support ; the bird 
 of prey soars high in the air, watching the de- 
 fenceless being that serves- it for food, and then 
 darts swiftly upon it. The bee, the ant and the 
 beaver, with wonderful art, contrive their habi- 
 tations and provide for their future wants ; the 
 ox and the horse accommodate themselves to 
 the labours or to the pleasures of man, whose 
 servants they are ; while the dog destined to be 
 his companion, seems by his superior intelli- 
 
254 JUDGMENT. 
 
 gence and his social nature to be worthy a place 
 at the hospitable fireside of his master. These 
 creatures seem intended for this earth alone, in 
 them we see no signs of reason or of a moral 
 nature ; that is, they give no evidence whereby 
 we judge they have a " beholding of necessary 
 or spiritual truth 5" but they possess the instinct 
 or intelligence by which each tribe is adapted 
 to the particular station allotted to it by the 
 Creator. 
 
 Man, also, by his organic frame and by the 
 constitution of his mind is adapted to the situa- 
 tion assigned him in creation. Intended to oc- 
 cupy for a time a place in this material world, 
 but ultimately to exist in a state very different 
 and far superior to the present, where the or- 
 ganic senses shall not be needed in the opera- 
 tions of the immaterial soul ; he is fitted by the 
 understanding which acts through the senses, 
 to obtain the knowledge that belongs to earth, 
 as well as by its higher operation in judgment 
 to fill with propriety his station, so that his com- 
 fort, and in a measure his happiness, here, may 
 be ensured. In this his reason and his moral 
 sense, the attributes of his immortal nature, 
 assist him. 
 
 My young friends, we are placed in this world 
 surrounded by difficulties and dangers, some of 
 these arising from our own state as sentient be- 
 
JUDGMENT. 255 
 
 ings, by which we are subjected to the neces- 
 sity of supplying our daily wants, and to sen- 
 sations, emotions and passions that often lead 
 us astray ; as well as to disease and death the 
 consequents of mortality. Other difficulties re- 
 sult from the circumstances that connect us to 
 our fellow creatures, by which we suffer from 
 their passions, and their prejudices, as well as 
 from their injustice. This being our condition, we 
 perceive at once that to be adapted to it we 
 need some mental ability that will enable us to 
 " foresee the evil and hide" ourselves from it. 
 Animals have an instinctive foresight of danger, 
 they know when the enemy is near and take to 
 flight. Being surrounded by innumerable dif- 
 ficulties and dangers, we need foresight in a 
 superior degree. We are indeed endowed, 
 richly endowed with Reason, by which we judge 
 of universal, necessary and moral truth, but 
 this seems not completely adapted to the minu- 
 tiae of every day life ; it looks too much at what 
 is general and abstract ; we need a " reflective 
 and discursive, or mediate apprehension, con- 
 tained within the sphere of the senses, operating 
 by sensible experience, that gives rise to max- 
 ims or rules," proper to govern the common 
 concerns of life. Let us call this operation of 
 the understanding, Judgment. 
 
 Judgment operates by means of observation, 
 
256 JUDGMENT. 
 
 experience and reflection. Though it depends 
 mostly upon the understanding, yet it is in 
 proper exercise only, when guided by Reason 
 and Revelation. Then indeed does man dis- 
 tinguish himself from the highest order among 
 the brutal trihes, showing himself made, not 
 only more excellent in his earthly nature than 
 they, and fitted to exercise dominion over them ; 
 but possessed of a mental constitution wholly 
 different from theirs, and intended for a state 
 inconceivably more exalted than the one he now 
 occupies. 
 
 Every decision, implying belief, whether 
 made in the mind, or pronounced by the voice 
 is called a judgment, and is founded on some 
 evidence. We believe what comes under the 
 notice of the senses, unless reason testifies 
 against it, as in the case of the gentleman who 
 was, as it seemed, followed every where by a 
 blue dog. The optical delusion was so strong 
 and so unpleasant, that although the gentleman 
 himself knew that it was a disorder of the optic 
 nerve, he got into bed and covered his head to 
 shut out the phantasm. When a straight stick 
 is plunged into water, it appears crooked, but 
 we can easily obtain a correct judgment by ex- 
 amination. A steeple which seems, by reason 
 of its distance, but a few feet in height, we find 
 by measurement to be fifty ; thus bringing one 
 
JUDGMENT. 257 
 
 sense to the assistance of another, we prove 
 that we do not suppose this evidence to be fal- 
 lacious. Reason would no more permit us to 
 doubt the existence of the objects around us, 
 than to doubt our own existence. To doubt 
 upon touch of the coldness of ice or the heat of 
 fire, is impossible. To doubt that sugar is sweet, 
 that vinegar is sour, or that a bell is ringing, is 
 equally impossible. The mind assents to the 
 existence of bodies and their qualities through 
 the evidence of the senses. Of this belief the 
 mind itself is conscious, and thus does thought 
 and reasoning attest so strongly to a thinking, 
 reasoning power called soul, that all the argu- 
 ments of Atheism will never convince a man 
 that he is no more than a clod of earth, or a 
 moving mass of flesh and bones. 
 
 As perception external and internal gives evi- 
 dence of the present, so memory keeps a record 
 of the past, furnishing the mind with such ex- 
 perience as seems indispensable in forming its 
 judgments, and giving it a foresight necessary 
 in making a proper provision for the future. 
 Creatures without reason are endued with in- 
 stinctive foresight, they need no experience. 
 The canary hatched a prisoner, and confined to 
 its cage, will in due time, set about building its 
 nest, without example or instruction. But the 
 
 human intellect, progressive in its developement, 
 17 
 
258 JUDGMENT. 
 
 needs the knowledge to be derived from the 
 senses, from the information of others, and from 
 reflection ; and this is in great measure its vol- 
 untary act, because depending on attention. 
 Hence the difference between the young and 
 the aged, between those nations still uncivilized, 
 and those, where the knowledge and experience 
 of ages have for ages been accumulating. 
 
 To be enabled to judge correctly, we must 
 prepare ourselves by careful observation. Per- 
 sons of sound judgment are accurate observers ; 
 they examine objects and subjects as well in 
 their general outline as in their particular de- 
 tail. For instance, the man of medical skill and 
 science, would apply his mind not only to the 
 general principles and facts connected with 
 medicine, but also to the principles and facts of 
 natural science, embracing the several branches 
 of Physiology, Chemistry, and Botany; as well as 
 to the History of medical science, and to the ex- 
 perience of its ablest practitioners. With all this 
 knowledge, he would with modesty, humility 
 rather, acknowledge that he knew but little ; and 
 feel willing to make research after what remains 
 for discovery. The opinion of a man of such 
 investigation and such candour, will always 
 meet with deference from his fellow men ; they 
 put confidence in his judgment. 
 
 The case of this physician is but an illustra- 
 
JUDGMENT, 259 
 
 tion ; look at another in Benjamin Franklin. 
 Being cast off and persecuted by his relatives, 
 he was so poor that he found himself in Phila- 
 delphia, a stranger, with a roll of bread under 
 his arm and a dollar in his pocket ; yet by his 
 industry, frugality, activity and intelligence, he 
 rose from one grade of life to another, until by 
 his plans for improving the country, and his offi- 
 cial services, he made himself an object of atten- 
 tion to the whole community. His advice was 
 asked by the governor and council on all impor- 
 tant occasions. In after years, he was by Lord 
 Chatham characterized as one, whom all Europe 
 held in high estimation for his knowledge and 
 wisdom ; who was an honour to human nature. 
 Franklin was remarkable for his observation. 
 He studied the sciences, and he studied man- 
 kind. He searched into the principles of ac- 
 tions, and he examined actions themselves ; and 
 while he qualified himself to direct the affairs of 
 nations, he disdained not to write maxims to 
 regulate the household economy of the poor. 
 
 No one can be called a judge of any thing, 
 or subject, who has not given it the best pos- 
 sible attention ; to give it a partial notice 
 may lead into error. To illustrate this, take 
 the well known story of the gold and silver 
 shield. Two knights armed and equipped, ap- 
 proached from different ways, a shield suspended 
 
260 JUDGMENT. 
 
 upon a high road. One, as he drew nigh, ex- 
 claimed, " how beautiful is yon golden shield." 
 " You are mistaken said the other, the shield is 
 silver ;" whereupon a quarrel ensued, aud the 
 champions of these different opinions, couched 
 their lances, and were about to do bloody bat- 
 tle. A third knight came by and called upon 
 them to stop. " You are both right, said he, 
 and yet both wrong ; turn your horses and ex- 
 amine both sides of the shield." This done they 
 discovered that one side of it was gold, the other 
 silver. Thus it is with those who do not thor- 
 oughly investigate before they pretend to judge. 
 I believe, or I do not believe ; 1 think so ;. I am 
 sure of it ; is continually in the mouth of the 
 ignorant who decide without any proper foun- 
 dation for their opinions. There are even those 
 who would not on any account be convinced of 
 error ; they shut their eyes lest they should see 
 something to alter their views of a subject ; they 
 have believed a thing so long that the trial to 
 give up such an opinion could not be endured ; 
 they prefer the quarrel about the shield all their 
 lives, to the shame of making the acknowledg- 
 ment that they have been mistaken. 
 
 For want of general as well as particular views 
 of truth, persons, who are accounted great and 
 learned, sometimes fall into grievous errors. 
 The king of Siam considered it an affront to 
 
JUDGMENT. 261 
 
 his understanding when told that water would 
 become hard ; had he been acquainted with 
 natural science, the assurance of this fact would 
 have given him pleasure. It is said that the 
 learned Dr. S. Johnson was a superstitious be- 
 liever in ghosts and second sight. His biogra- 
 pher says "that he had the habit when going in 
 or out of a door, to count the steps from a cer- 
 tain point, so that either his right or left foot, 
 (I am not certain which,) should constantly 
 make the first actual movement when he came 
 close to the door or passage." He was observed 
 to do this with great earnestness, going back 
 and recounting the steps when he had made a 
 mistake ; perhaps from some such notion of good 
 or ill luck, as might induce a person to wear a 
 garment on the wrong side which had thus acci- 
 dentally been put on ; or to be careful to look at 
 the moon over the right shoulder. Dr. Johnson, 
 though great in literary attainments was igno- 
 rant in natural science, and was either an af- 
 fected or real despiser of it.* With great men- 
 tal powers and splendid accomplishments, his 
 views on certain subjects must have been very 
 limited, else would he not have asserted that, 
 " Education is as well known, and has long been 
 as well known, as it ever can be." Says Stew- 
 art, from whom part of this account is taken, 
 • Dick on the Improvement of Society. 
 
2§2 JUDGMENT. 
 
 " They who know the value of a well regulated 
 and unclouded mind, would not incur the weak- 
 ness and wretchedness exhibited in the fore- 
 going description, for all his literary acquire- 
 ments and literary fame." 
 
 The brute is guided by his instinct, man by 
 his reason. Some animals as in the cases already 
 related, act with observation and experience, 
 though always in reference to their instinctive 
 propensities ; as in the case of the dog devising 
 means to gratify his social nature. Why should 
 not man as wisely bring his observation and 
 experience into co-operation with his reason ? 
 When he contends that the things of which his 
 mind, through the senses, perceives the existence, 
 exist only in the mind, or that the mind has no 
 perception without the senses, reason flatly con- 
 tradicts him. Why does a man presume to 
 assert of the Universe, that it came into exist- 
 ence without an Intelligent Cause, when he 
 would feel offended were you to tell him that 
 a common globe, with its geographical lines 
 and circles, took such form and marks, without 
 a designing hand ? 
 
 And in the examination of the works of crea- 
 tion, would it not be wise to use the under- 
 standing rationally? How wonderful is the 
 simplicity every where discoverable in natural 
 operations. The dews of heaven, the rays of 
 
JUDGMENT. 263 
 
 the sun and the surrounding atmosphere pro- 
 duce vegetation, and thus also is animal life 
 sustained. By the force of attraction like par- 
 ticles unite with each other, and form solid 
 bodies ; by repulsion these bodies are kept asun- 
 der, so that the universe becomes not a solid 
 mass ; while the counter-operation of these two 
 forces sets in motion the whole sidereal system. 
 The circulating fluids, derived from the nour- 
 ishment received by the body, sustain its ani- 
 mal life, while the muscles and nerves in some 
 way produce its movements. In contemplating 
 the beautiful simplicity every where seen in the 
 works of the Creator, how can the rational un- 
 derstanding frame to itself thirty-three different 
 faculties, corresponding with as many visible 
 organs, operating in the production of mental 
 and moral life ? Reason teaches that the im- 
 material spiritual essence cannot be moulded 
 in a material form. Consciousness asserts that 
 the mind is indivisible, each act being an act in 
 which the whole mental power is concerned ; 
 how then can the soul be set out in parts and 
 measured in its attributes f " Who would not 
 smile, at an ounce of truth, or a square foot of 
 honour?" though it has now become fashionable 
 to call self-esteem, veneration and other acts of 
 the mind large or small, assigning to each a sep- 
 arate organ. 
 
264 JUDGMENT. 
 
 It was a momentous enquiry, " Where shall 
 wisdom be found, and where is the place of 
 understanding ?" There are indeed those " who 
 darken counsel by words," of whom the Al- 
 mighty will demand, "Where wast thou when I 
 I laid the foundation of the earth ? declare, if 
 thou hast understanding. Who hath put wisdom 
 in the inward parts, or who hath given under- 
 standing to the heart ?" Read, 1 pray you, with 
 care, and reflection, the last chapters of the Book 
 of Job, beginning with the thirty-eighth. You 
 will there have overwhelming evidence, that 
 man with all his research, knows, as yet, but 
 little of the works of the Almighty, and that 
 there are parts of His works the human mind 
 can never understand. There will you learn 
 that God has a particular purpose in the forma- 
 tion of every creature of His power, from the 
 feeblest irrational being, to the powerful Levia- 
 than, "who esteemeth iron as straw, and brass 
 as rotten wood." Each one by his peculiar in- 
 stinct is fitted for the particular station assigned 
 to him. To all has God given needful under- 
 standing, but with man alone does He conde- 
 scend to reason. Let Reason then, that pre- 
 cious gift, bestowed upon those who are made 
 "but little lower than the angels," be brought 
 to the Light of that Revelation, given by Him 
 who was made so much better than the angels ; 
 
JUDGMENT. 265 
 
 let it admit the full weight of a testimony that 
 sets the human intellect in contra-distinction 
 from the brute, elevating it to a rank that might 
 seem desirable to the noblest ambition. " The 
 ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's 
 crib," but man in the pride of his alienation from 
 God, prefers to drink from the Herculean cup 
 of sensual wisdom, lowering his exalted nature 
 nearly to the level of the mere animal; thus 
 striving to divest himself of his accountability. 
 
 " Error, says Cecil, is never solitary, it is al- 
 ways attended by a thousand others." Error 
 is a fault in judgment originating in ignorance 
 or in wrong feeling ; thus is prejudice produced 
 in the mind very early in life, giving a colouring 
 to the opinions, and a stamp to the character, 
 never to be effaced. In childhood the partially 
 developed mind submits itself to the knowledge 
 and experience of minds more mature. This 
 is right and in accordance with the promptings 
 , of nature and the laws of God. Happy would 
 it be for the world if the directors and instruct- 
 ors of the young were more careful to qualify 
 themselves to train up to correct habits of thought 
 those who thus depend upon them ; then would 
 error not be perpetuated from generation to 
 generation. During this period of life error and 
 prejudice most readily spring up in the trusting 
 and feeling soul. The mind is then unfurnished 
 
266 JUDGMENT. 
 
 by observation and experience to combat it, and 
 its ardent affections prompt it to receive as truth 
 whatever proceeds from the lips of the tenderest 
 objects of its love. Witness the deep interest 
 with which an affectionate, and sensible child 
 often listens to the tale of superstition, or the 
 silly flight of fancy from a kind, ill-judging nurse ; 
 and in after years when the ripened intellect 
 would decide otherwise, the association is still 
 there. This is peculiarly the case with our 
 own sex whose limited education does not so 
 often afford the means of rectifying these errors. 
 Many a woman who might have become an 
 ornament to society, passes through life a slave 
 to the narrow prejudices imbibed in her earliest 
 years through the warm emotions of her heart. 
 Many a man has become a sceptic from having 
 had his education directed by those whose prin- 
 ciples were loose, whose habits were irregular, 
 and whose conduct was unchristian. How often 
 does the erring father draw his son with him 
 into the vortex of ruin ; and the infidel husband 
 work the destruction of his confiding and loving 
 wife. 
 
 An attractive object is, to the young, fre- 
 quently invested with imaginary excellencies ; 
 and the mind is thus led to make such se- 
 lections in friendship and in other relationship 
 as may render the future a scene of unhappi- 
 
JUDGMENT, 267 
 
 ness. La Martine says ; " At first sight, at a 
 glance, I have judged of a man or a woman for 
 ever; reason, reflection, even violence attempted 
 against these. first impressions, avail nothing. 
 When the bronze has received its imprint, in 
 vain may you turn and twist it in your fingers, 
 it retains the form. Thus with my soul, thus 
 with my mind." This sort of instinctive judg- 
 ment is not uncommon with young persons of 
 ardent temperament, but it often is most unjust, 
 as experience will testify. The beautiful are 
 not always the good, the attractive not always 
 the excellent. Many however, like the French 
 traveller, make a boast of such prejudices-; 
 though a cultivated understanding would teach 
 them, that to judge without reflection, and in 
 this judgment to offer an insult to reason, marks 
 a little more than weakness ; it is a species of 
 immorality. Should we suffer such preposses- 
 sions to influence our conduct towards others, 
 we should act a most unchristian part. The 
 most unpromising exterior not unfrequently con- 
 ceals a character of the highest merit. • It is 
 related that at a levee of George III. of Eng- 
 land, a lady was remarked in an attire not at 
 all comporting with the brilliancy and splen- 
 dour of such an occasion. A gentleman, prob- 
 ably a stranger, took offence at what he consid- 
 ered an indecorum, and said quite aloud ; "I 
 
268 JUDGMENT. 
 
 wonder who that old woman can be that ap- 
 pears in this august presence in so mean a 
 gown ?" The king who was within hearing, 
 turned and said ; " Sir, at the hour of death I 
 should desire to cling to the robe which covers 
 that noble soul. That lady is the Countess of 
 Huntington." 
 
 Many of our prejudices originate in our igno- 
 rance. Persons who have seen little, heard 
 little, and read little, often mistake grossly with 
 respect to themselves and others. With them 
 literally " there is no place like home." This 
 is not only the sentiment of the heart, but the 
 opinion or judgment of the mind. They, and 
 their own family, know more, are more impor- 
 tant and a little better than their neighbours. 
 This judgment is detected in their conversation, 
 where self is always prominent; their own opin- 
 ions delivered in a positive tone, the sensible 
 and witty remarks of their children, with the 
 maxims of their fathers are intruded every where. 
 Their own misfortunes are greater than those 
 endured by others, and in the matter of interest, 
 they have no idea that others will presume to 
 come into a competition. Should such persons 
 visit foreign countries, they will hold in sove- 
 reign contempt every departure from the cus- 
 toms and manners of their own nation. They 
 have set up their own country as a pattern after 
 
JUDGMENT. 269 
 
 which other nations are to fashion themselves, 
 and they feel outraged that any presume to shape 
 even their garments in a way not dictated by the 
 land pre-eminent. 
 
 When we make ourselves acquainted with 
 the world, we find that the 7, myself, is but an 
 individual of the great human family ; that there 
 are those immeasurably our superiors in know- 
 ledge and in wisdom. We shall find that to in- 
 duce others to take an interest in our affairs, our 
 joys, and sorrows, we must with sympathy enter 
 into theirs. A knowledge of history will teach 
 us to consider mankind as one great family under 
 the government of our common Father ; that 
 other individuals, other nations are regarded 
 by God as well as we ; that the sun shines as 
 brightly upon the inhabitant of China as upon 
 us ; that intellectual endowments are not our 
 especial gift, nor are the blessings of instruction 
 and religion exclusively our own. Such know- 
 ledge and the knowledge of the Gospel will 
 dispel the narrow-minded prejudice of my own, 
 and teach us to understand the meaning of the 
 term my neighbour. . *' 
 
 The gloss which fashion puts upon objects, 
 upon customs and upon sentiments, so dazzles 
 the mind that they are not perceived in their 
 true colouring or relations. Deformity is mis- 
 taken for beauty, coarseness for delicacy, and 
 
270 JUDGMENT. 
 
 vulgarity for politeness. "It is fashionable, " 
 is admitted as an evidence for elegance in 
 costume, for propriety in behaviour, for correct- 
 ness in taste, and morality in sentiment. Many 
 persons would be more ashamed of being seen 
 in an unfashionable dress or with plain people, 
 than of being caught in doing a wrong action. 
 Some honest labour would raise a blush in their 
 faces sooner than unjust dealing. They prefer 
 the gaudy affectation of high life, to the sim- 
 plicity and modesty that springs from merit 
 and religion. Had they a better knowledge of 
 the world, that is, of the great world, the truly 
 sensible and polite classes of society, they would 
 see that these opinions are considered littleness 
 by them, and that this attention to the frippe- 
 ries of fashion, takes away from their own re- 
 spectability, rendering them ridiculous. Those 
 who live in palaces would treat with respect the 
 plain, honest, intelligent cottager, while they 
 pass in contempt the most servile imitators of 
 their own fashions. 
 
 Persons frequently fall into a loose way of 
 expressing themselves, which may in the end 
 lead to erroneous judgment either in themselves 
 or in those who are guided by them. Such talk 
 of their ill luck ; every thing goes wrong in their 
 hands, whatever they undertake is sure to fail; 
 if they go out k will certainly rain ; they carry 
 
JUDGMENT. 271 
 
 a storm or perhaps fair weather wherever they 
 go. Others in a sort of despondence exclaim, 
 
 "Oh ! ever from my childhood's hour, 
 I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; 
 
 I never lov'd a tree or flower, 
 But 'twas the first to fade away. 
 
 I never nurs'd a dear gazelle 
 
 To glad me with its soft black eye, 
 
 But when it came to know me well, 
 And love me, it was sure to die." 
 
 Thus do they give themselves and their own 
 affairs great importance, almost presuming that 
 nature is turned from its accustomed course, 
 that they may be the marked subjects of a sort 
 of miraculous dispensation ; forgetting that even 
 in the most fiery trials we are enjoined to re- 
 member "that no strange thing happens to us," 
 but that all events are in accordance with the 
 wise design of a general Providence. 
 
 Some from a few facts form a general judg- 
 ment. They attribute to a family or even a 
 whole nation the defects they have noticed in 
 some individual of that family or nation. With 
 some persons every Englishman is stiff and taci- 
 turn, every Frenchman gay and trifling, every 
 American curious and intruding. Those who 
 thus judge, found their opinions upon what they 
 have heard or the few examples they have seen, 
 and have not learned to discriminate between 
 
272 JUDGMENT. , 
 
 the habits established among the populace for 
 want of education, and the refinement we meet 
 with in every nation, arising from cultivated 
 intellect. Should they meet with any, who, 
 making a profession of piety are morose in their 
 temper, penurious in their habits, or uncharit- 
 able in their dealings, they attribute these de- 
 fects to religion itself, not discriminating be- 
 tween the individual and his profession. Rea- 
 son itself, would teach them that the religion 
 which proceeds from a Being, whom they allow 
 to be perfect, can never produce such effects in 
 its professors ; the cause should be sought else- 
 where, and will probably be found in the natural 
 propensities, in improper training in infancy and 
 youth ; or, more probably, in a lack of spiritual 
 piety. 
 
 Wilberforce in his youth was gay, much 
 in fashionable society, and remarkable for his 
 wit. Being on a journey with a friend, men- 
 tion was made of a clergyman of their ac- 
 quaintance, whose piety was then uncommon. 
 "I think," said Wilberforce, "he carries things 
 a great deal too far." His friend replied, " I 
 believe you would form a very different estimate 
 if you were to read with me carefully the whole 
 of the New Testament." Wilberforce took him 
 at his word and they perused it together as they 
 travelled. This single perusal of the Sacred 
 
JUDGMENT. 273 
 
 Word was so blessed to Wilberforce, that from 
 being the witty songster and the joy of the Don- 
 caster races, he became a new man, and Chris- 
 tian senator. Truth is mighty and must pre- 
 vail wherever fair investigation is applied to it. 
 
 The mind in childhood is rightly subjected to 
 the pupilage of parental authority, but as the 
 higher operations of thought are added to per- 
 ception, conception and association, the young 
 in many cases seek emancipation themselves 
 from this controul, and judge for themselves. 
 Happy for them if they then search for truth with 
 careful and unbiassed minds ; and while they 
 take lessons in experience, shew themselves 
 willing to profit by the counsels and experience 
 of those who are more advanced in its school. 
 It is indeed to be lamented that at this period 
 many a spirited youth looks with contempt upon 
 all that is wise and reasonable ; spurning the 
 opinions of his elders, he adopts in their stead 
 the fine-spun theories which he receives as the 
 wisdom of an improved age. The faithful coun- 
 sels of his father whom he concludes in his do- 
 tage, and the pious warnings of his mother, 
 whom he looks upon as silly, are rejected. 
 
 Others quietly sink into the inactivity of an 
 indolent disposition, and remain satisfied to be 
 guided by the opinions of those whom they in 
 
 dutv and affection reverence. How terrible 
 
 18 
 
274 JUDGMENT. 
 
 here is the responsibility of the mother, and how 
 much and earnestly should she pray for an 
 understanding heart. The opinions, perhaps 
 unadvisedly expressed, by a mother, will, it 
 may be, to her child, be the test through life of 
 what is beautiful or good, right or wrong ; and 
 in them is laid the foundation of his character, 
 his future welfare and happiness. Poor mother, 
 how often must you look back in bitterness of 
 spirit upon your erring judgment and your un- 
 guarded expressions ! " My mother says so, 
 and my mother will not say what is not true," 
 is often heard from the lip of your child, and 
 now, when your unfortunate daughter makes a 
 wretched matrimonial choice, does not your 
 heart reproach you with the approbation which 
 you in her hearing have bestowed upon fash- 
 ionable appearance, wealth, and agreeable ex- 
 terior though joined to irreligious, even immoral 
 character ? And when your son turns out an 
 infidel, do you not with horror reflect upon the 
 ridicule which in moments of lightness, you 
 have in his presence cast upon the homely piety 
 of your fellow professors, even upon the dull 
 and prosing sermons of your minister ? 
 
 Children should be accustomed to hear the 
 truth and the correct reason of things, otherwise 
 they will be extravagant in their notions and 
 often credulous, even superstitious. The im- 
 
JUDGMENT. 275 
 
 probable stories with which their little libraries 
 teem, set out with the attraction of ridiculous 
 and gaudy prints, tend to distort their imagina- 
 tions and warp their judgments. They are, to 
 say the least, in exceedingly bad taste. Chil- 
 dren are naturally confiding and believe every 
 thing told them by those they love, but having 
 been often deceived in things that by older 
 friends are considered of no moment, they lose 
 the lovely uprightness of infancy, and having 
 learned to set no value upon truth, they become 
 false themselves and incredulous, even unwil- 
 ling to believe what is true. 
 
 Young persons who have not been brought up 
 with a strict regard to truth, often indulge them- 
 selves in exaggeration because it creates sur- 
 prise, and if witty, greatly amuses a company ; 
 thus they acquire consequence, and their society 
 being sought after, until they grow tiresome, 
 which will be inevitable, if they make them- 
 selves the heroes of their own stories, their 
 vanity becomes ridiculous. This desire of as- 
 tonishing people by some new story leads them 
 into scandal, and often produces great mischiefs, 
 quarrels among neighbours, even ruin to the 
 prospects and character of the innocent. Per- 
 sons who thus amuse themselves are not in un- 
 derstanding to be compared to the bee, which 
 lays up a store of honey for a time of need. 
 
276 JUDGMENT. 
 
 They lay up no wisdom for the age when wis- 
 dom will be expected } they lay up no reputa- 
 tion for prudence, or even for honesty, and must 
 expect to be avoided as tale-bearers, perhaps 
 liars. They secure no friendship, for those who 
 have been wounded or injured by them, may h> 
 deed forgive, but they will rarely forget. These 
 mistakes as to the manner of amusing ourselves 
 and others, with the expectation of securing an 
 agreeable footing in society, mark a judgment 
 not at all in accordance with reason, to say 
 nothing of conscience and religion. 
 
 The young are apt to be deceived by appear- 
 ances ; they mistake flattery for sincerity, and 
 where they expect friendship often find the feel- 
 ings of their warm hearts met with polite but 
 cold courtesy. This, in them, is liable to create 
 suspicion, and the young trusting heart, forming 
 the judgment that the world is full of deceit, 
 becomes also cold and deceitful. Here discrim- 
 ination must be exercised. There is deception 
 in the world, and much of it ; but careful ob- 
 servation will enable us, in most instances, to 
 distinguish between the true and the false. 
 Wherever there is affectation there is not entire 
 sincerity ; and in general the greater the pro- 
 fession of this, or any other virtue, the more 
 valid the suspicion that it does not exist. So 
 among our associates, should we meet those 
 
JUDGMENT. 277 
 
 who are busy in casting a shade over the char- 
 acters or prospects of their neighbours, the in- 
 ference is safe that at some convenient oppor- 
 tunity they may confer upon us the same favour. 
 To look for defects is their delight, and their 
 best friends for want of other subjects, may be 
 served up to gratify this unnatural appetite. 
 
 Whenever the young profess to despise pa- 
 rental restraints, or speak disrespectfully of those 
 in authority, it is to be feared they will lightly 
 esteem the ties of friendship. When a young- 
 man disregards the feelings of his sister, he will 
 probably have but little respect for those of his 
 wife. They who lightly esteem religion, either 
 in its profession or its ordinances, will probably 
 undervalue morality in all its requirements. 
 
 I have endeavoured my young friends to set 
 before you some illustrations of common rea- 
 soning that may be more useful than the rules 
 for making syllogisms. Thus to exercise your 
 judgment and acquire accurate habits of thought, 
 will be of vast importance throughout life. 
 Persons who arrive at middle age with loose and 
 unconnected ideas, are not able to discriminate ; 
 they live with most uncomfortable confusion in 
 their thoughts, and have no confidence in their 
 own judgment ; they are apt to be led away by 
 the prejudices or errors of others, and liable in 
 their own conduct to fall into gross mistakes. 
 
27S JUDGMENT. 
 
 Or else in the self-conceit of a little know- 
 ledge, they set themselves up for the direc- 
 tors of mankind, and are either laughed at 
 for their ignorance, or are "blind leaders of 
 the blind."" 
 
 It is said of the celebrated and excellent Roger 
 Sherman, that the predominant trait in his char- 
 acter was his practical wisdom, or in other 
 words his strong common sense. Mr. Jeffer- 
 son pointing him out as he sat among the mem- 
 bers of Congress, said, " That is a man who 
 never said a foolish thing in his life." A good 
 judgment is founded on such clear conceptions 
 of truth as reason gives us, added to close and 
 accurate attention to whatever is important for 
 us to know in our several relations and occupa- 
 tions in life. We learn to discriminate by com- 
 parison, and to foresee by attending to our own 
 experience as well as to the experience of others. 
 Young persons of more than common intellect 
 often bewilder themselves in the mazes of sophis- 
 tical reasoning ; but a little reflection will show, 
 that if the subject proposed be useless, it is folly 
 to meddle with it ; if bey ond the reach of mind 
 in its present existence, it is a waste of time to 
 search into it. We should in humility acknow- 
 ledge our own ignorance, and rest in the wisdom 
 of Him who has made things unsearchable by hu- 
 man understanding. It is certain that " there 
 
JUDGMENT. 279 
 
 are things hard to be understood, which many 
 wrest to their own destruction," but it is also 
 certain that " we have a more sure word of 
 prophecy, whereunto, if we take heed, we shall 
 do well." 
 
 A regard to our welfare as sensitive beings, 
 is natural and rational, and we are bound to 
 seek it by every means reasonable and consci- 
 entious. This regard to our own temporal good, 
 comes under the head of prudence, and belongs 
 more properly to moral than to mental philos- 
 ophy ; but being based upon our mental consti- 
 tution, we must, in considering the adaptation 
 of our nature to our external circumstances, also 
 consider, the capability we find within ourselves 
 of acting, so as to render our present existence 
 at least comfortable. Few persons are so de- 
 graded in intellect, as not to be able, (if willing 
 to exercise their attention on the subject,) to 
 form a correct judgment as to the common mat- 
 ters that conduce to their welfare and respect- 
 able standing in society. It is true, that by 
 wrong education and by misguided feeling we 
 may have been induced into erroneous habits 
 of thought and unwise actions, but as the mind 
 becomes matured and sobered, it is in our power 
 to rectify by the right use of reason those mis- 
 takes into which we may unfortunately have 
 been led. In this we can procure assistance 
 
280 JUDGMENT. 
 
 from the experience and counsel of parents or 
 instructors. 
 
 Thus my young friends is it in your power with 
 the aids just referred to, to mark out such a course 
 of conduct as may by Divine blessing, render you 
 respectable, useful and happy in this world. The 
 contrary will be your lot if you depart from the 
 rules laid in the common sense and reason of your 
 nature, or refuse to profit by experience, and re- 
 ject the advice of those who are older and better 
 instructed than yourselves. God has thus placed 
 our present destiny in our own hands. To the 
 brute He has given instinctive understanding 
 which does not mislead him ; upon man has been 
 bestowed higher understanding and Reason, with 
 voluntary power to use or abuse them. Here 
 is his accountability. Man frequently, nay con- 
 stantly errs ; here is his fallibility, carrying with 
 it the proof of a fallen nature, an understanding 
 corrupted and under the dominion of sense. 
 Still reason is a sufficient guide to the judgment 
 in matters of worldly prudence. As to his 
 moral and spiritual nature in which is involved 
 his immortal destiny, man has within him the 
 voice of Conscience, which cries, " do not." 
 
 But as we have seen, this life is not the limit 
 of our existence ; it is but the beginning, the 
 preparatory state. How then can we rationally 
 omit the future in our prudential considerations . ? 
 
JUDGMENT. 281 
 
 Reason, that gives the knowledge of natural and 
 necessary truth, is the gift of God to man, and 
 should be his guide, yet we perceive that nothing- 
 is more common to him than to fall into error, 
 even in the matters that seem plain to the un- 
 derstanding, which judges according to sense. 
 'How then, you ask, if reason the light of nature 
 in the soul, be insufficient, because of our erring 
 propensities, to direct us in our common con- 
 cerns, how can we trust to its direction in mat- 
 ters of eternal moment ? How are we adapted 
 to the appalling circumstances in which we are 
 placed ? This is a momentous question. Hear 
 the answer from eternal Truth. " If any among 
 you seemeth to be wise in this world, let him 
 become a fool that he may be wise." " For it is 
 written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, 
 and I will bring to nothing the understanding of 
 the prudent," "that no flesh should glory in My 
 presence." These are the words of God our 
 Creator, at whose command "the eagle maketh 
 her nest on high," who hath made the great 
 " Behemoth which drinketh up a river," and 
 " Leviathan" who "maketh the deep to boil as 
 a pot." " If any lack wisdom let him ask of 
 God that giveth to all liberally and upbraideth 
 not ; and it shall be given him." The directions 
 of Eternal Truth given to us in the Sacred Word 
 are so plain, that he who runs may read, and 
 
282 JUDGMENT. 
 
 " the wayfaring men, though fools" in the wis- 
 dom of this world " shall not err therein." 
 
 That quality of mind depending upon the 
 judgment, called prudence, is particularly beau- 
 tiful, as well as necessary in our sex. Woman 
 though occupying an unobtrusive station in so- 
 ciety, finds it one of great difficulty, danger and 
 responsibility. The season of her youth exposes 
 her to the temptation of being led, through flat- 
 tery without and vanity within, to such connex- 
 ions as may be ruinous to her earthly, perhaps 
 her eternal happiness. The fond affections of 
 her heart, when she becomes a mother, often 
 mislead her to the undoing of her children ; 
 and the want of the serious occupations and 
 mental culture that hold in balance the minds 
 of the other sex, exposes her to the allurements 
 of indolence, and to a trifling spirit almost in* 
 fantile. Add to this her amazing responsibili- 
 ties, help-meet to man, guide and first director 
 of the human intellect ; woman especially needs 
 that culture of mind, which shall enable her to 
 judge aright. 
 
 My dear friends, this is your position in crea- 
 tion. Weak and helpless, deficient as you feel 
 yourselves, many of you are ready to exclaim, 
 " surely by nature we are not fitted for the place 
 we occupy." Do not mistake. You are not 
 indeed perfect in instinctive knowledge and abil- 
 
JUDGMENT. 283 
 
 ities to fulfil your allotted duties, but by grace 
 may you be made so. The Creator has seen 
 fit to glorify Himself most in the feeblest of His 
 creatures. By the weak things of the world 
 does He confound the mighty. When we are 
 weak in ourselves, then may we find strength 
 in Him. The reasoning of the most powerful 
 understanding often leads to darkness, and men 
 in their wisdom frequently become fools. Let 
 woman, divested of that pride of intellect which 
 often " dazzles but to blind," apply herself to 
 the Light which shineth brighter and brighter 
 unto the perfect day, sit down in the meekness 
 and humility becoming her, where Mary sat, at 
 the feet of Jesus, and she shall come off a con- 
 queror greater than Alexander in the pride of 
 his victories. " The price of such a woman is 
 far above rubies. The heart of her husband 
 trusteth in her for she shall do him good, and 
 not evil all the days of her life." She shall 
 bring no dishonour upon him by the folly of her 
 speech for " she openeth her mouth with wis- 
 dom," neither shall she be an offence against 
 her neighbour," for "the law of kindness dwells 
 upon her tongue." By her industry will she 
 preserve comfort to her household, even when 
 the storm of adversity overtakes them. Her 
 children in her old age " rise up and call her 
 blessed." " Favour is deceitful and beauty is 
 
284 IMAGINATION. 
 
 vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord she 
 shall be praised." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 The highest developement of the Intellect is 
 in the power it has of combining its conceptions, 
 so as to form creations of its own ; a world 
 within itself. This is the province of Imagina- 
 tion. In the words of Shakspeare, 
 
 " Imagination bodies forth 
 Tbe forms of things unknown." 
 
 The understanding is occupied w T ith objects 
 that have been brought to the mind by means 
 of sensible perceptions ; the reason is concerned 
 with truth above or out of the reach of sense ; 
 the imagination by its creative power forms, 
 from the materials furnished by the under- 
 standing and the reason, what has never yet 
 been known to exist. In this process of thought 
 all the powers of the mind are in full operation. 
 Attention fixes itself upon the objects or subjects 
 already discerned and brings them as finished 
 pictures before the conception. Memory sets 
 out its treasured resources. Association con- 
 nects things present and past, near and afar, 
 
IMAGINATION. 285 
 
 similar and dissimilar ; congruous and incon- 
 gruous. Abstraction marks the essential dif- 
 ferences, clearing the conception of whatever 
 might cause confusion, while Judgment distin- 
 guishes between the real and the counterfeit, 
 the beautiful and the deformed, the useful and 
 the useless, the good and the hurtful, and rea- 
 son furnishes truth natural and moral, making 
 a boundary beyond which thought may not pass.* 
 Reason may be called the natural light of the 
 mind ; Imagination the life, the animating, vivi- 
 fying power, its creative energy. Without it 
 the intellect would be spiritless, man a clod, 
 and nature a matter-of-fact assemblage of earth 
 and sky ; of water and herbage ; of beasts and 
 birds and fishes. Imagination gives to man the 
 " thoughts which breathe and words which 
 burn," and clothes all nature in glorious beauty. 
 It finds crystals in the dew-drops, gold and sil- 
 ver in the waves of the ocean ; hangs the hea- 
 vens at the morning twilight with a canopy of 
 ruby, at night spangles them with living dia- 
 monds ; while it covers the earth with a tapes- 
 try of emerald, filling the air, the groves and 
 the streams with melody. Imagination 
 
 "Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, 
 
 And gives to airy nothings 
 
 A local habitation and a name*" 
 
 * Note O. 
 
286 IMAGINATION. 
 
 It fills all earth and heaven with loveliness, 
 producing pleasures independent of the bare 
 sensations of sight, hearing, touch, taste and 
 smell, that belong to, and exist in the mind it- 
 self. " Take away the intelligence," says Cou- 
 sin, " and there is for us no longer any beauty in 
 external forms and things." Not only does it 
 invest all material objects with qualities discov- 
 erable by itself alone, but by its power of com- 
 bining parts in objects, often dissimilar and in- 
 congruous, it creates new wholes and presents 
 to the mind forms of beings and things unknown ; 
 it even frames worlds unseen by mortal eye, 
 and peoples them with inhabitants of its own 
 conception. 
 
 The imaginative power of the mind shews 
 its affinity to minds celestial. Were man a 
 mere animal he would be confined to the ob- 
 jects of sense, and to such qualities in them as 
 the senses convey, but bearing within him a 
 higher nature he discovers qualities beyond the 
 reach of sight and hearing, and overleaping the 
 boundaries of external perception, he wanders 
 in fairy regions of his own creation, luxuriates 
 in the enjoyments of ideality. The mind being 
 by its constitution fitted to look at things un- 
 seen, and to enjoy without the aid of the senses, 
 it seeks the refined and purely intellectual qual- 
 ities of beauty, sublimity, harmony and grace ; 
 
IMAGINATION. 287 
 
 in fine, what may be termed perfection in ob- 
 jects, and failing to find what it seeks in this 
 present state of being, the imagination creates 
 what it esteems perfection in idealities of its 
 own ; shewing plainly the soul's alliance with 
 worlds unknown, and its capability of enjoying 
 the perfection of beauty, in glory ineffable. 
 
 The lowest effort of the imagination is a con- 
 ception of the ideal. This depends upon the 
 knowledge of what is real, as well as upon the 
 associations depending on circumstances, the 
 abstractions resulting from reflection, and the 
 judgment formed upon experience. Here we 
 have the reason why the imagination is the 
 slowest in its developement ; it is the fruit of 
 the combined operation of all the intellectual 
 powers. Here also, we see why, in children, 
 it is so imperfect in its exercise ; but being the 
 " richest blossom of the mind's flower-garden," it 
 should be nurtured with care and skilfully 
 trained. The imaginative power in children is 
 seen in their early love of fiction, their frequent 
 and earnest request for another story, their an- 
 ticipations of the future in which they fancifully 
 enact their part. The little girl is mistress of 
 her own household, and fills her imaginary 
 sphere with beings and with cares, while her 
 brother is the hero of his own romance. 
 
 The first effort of the imagination is the con- 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 ception of the fictions addressed to it ; but it 
 must be noticed that the conception of the ideal 
 in children depends upon the training of their 
 minds. Where the infant fancy is left to expand 
 itself upon the absurd fictions of the nursery, 
 it will be long, perhaps, before it can reach the 
 conception of such a character as Milton's 
 Adam. Pope, who at the age of twelve years 
 wrote an Ode on Solitude, had his mind early 
 trained by the reading of the Latin and Greek 
 classics ; when only eight, he was regularly 
 initiated into the perusal of Homer. 
 
 This activity in the minds of children is like 
 the growth of certain plants, which shoot out 
 with wonderful rapidity in any direction, and 
 attach themselves to every thing that comes 
 within their reach. They mount the branches 
 of the lofty oak or they entwine themselves 
 around the gloomy Cyprus ; they would clasp 
 the deadly nightshade, or meanly creep among 
 the coarse weeds that grow around them. Thus 
 with the mind in childhood. Carefully then 
 should the mother or teacher seek to train the 
 active spirit, which, like the bird of heaven, may 
 ascend the loftiest heights that intellect, still in 
 humanity, can reach, basking in the sunbeams 
 of honour, until it become dizzy and dazzled 
 with its own aspirings. Had the imaginative 
 soul of Byron frequently refreshed itself in the 
 
IMAGINATION. 289 
 
 ever-verdant bowers of maternal tenderness ; 
 had the burning ardour of his restless spirit been 
 allayed by the gentle current of a mother's love ; 
 had he been soothed and melted by her voice at 
 morning and evening devotions ; had he kindled 
 his poetic fire at the pages of Divine Inspiration, 
 who can say what might have been the labours 
 of this master spirit ? 
 
 " The early years of life," says the author of 
 Home Education, " are all ideality. The real 
 charm of a toy is derived from the power it 
 possesses to excite the.conceptive faculty, hence 
 it is, that the more it leaves to be filled up by 
 the imagination — the ruder it is, so much the 
 keener and the more lasting is the pleasure it 
 afford s." It is much better to give to children 
 materials upon which to exercise their ingenuity, 
 and implements for work, than those finished, 
 gilded toys, whose costliness is their least disad- 
 vantage. A fine painted carriage which the little 
 boy has only to draw about, will soon tire him, 
 while a few bits of board, a saw, a hammer and 
 some nails will afford him amusement for hours, 
 by giving exercise to the faculty of invention. 
 
 During the hours of recess at school, when 
 
 other boys were engaged in their amusements, 
 
 the mind of Newton was engrossed with me- 
 
 chanical contrivances, either in imitation of 
 
 what he had seen, or in original conceptions of 
 19 
 
290 IMAGINATION. 
 
 his own. He made a model of a windmill that 
 was erected in his neighborhood, and then con- 
 ceived the idea of turning it with animal power ; 
 this project he executed by enclosing in it a 
 mouse, that he called the miller, and which by 
 acting upon a sort of tread- wheel, gave motion 
 to the machine. He also invented a water- 
 clock, and a mechanical carriage, put in motion 
 by the person who sat in it. Newton though a 
 " silent and thinking lad," and averse to engage 
 in the sports of his companions, took great plea- 
 sure in providing for their amusements, all of 
 the scientific kind, such as attaching paper lan- 
 terns to kites, which flying by night had the 
 appearance of comets. 
 
 Imagination is the foundation of both Taste 
 and Genius. In the musician, the painter, the 
 sculptor and the poet, it is the creative power ; 
 in those who enjoy the wonders of ideality 
 brought into existence by genius, it is the power 
 of conceiving the ideal, and when combined 
 with judgment it becomes taste. Imagination 
 is an original power of the rational mind ; we find 
 it in children, in savages, among all nations, and 
 in all ages. It built the tower of Babel, it con- 
 structed the Pyramids of Egypt ; it framed the 
 disgusting Mythology of the Egyptians, and that 
 more refined abomination of the Greeks. It 
 invented alike the paradise of Odin, whose war- 
 
IMAGINATION. 291 
 
 riors revel in the enjoyment of eternally slaying 
 their enemies and drinking blood from their 
 skulls ; and the celestial bowers of Mahomet, 
 where the followers of the false Prophet recline 
 amid all the delights of the senses. Imagina- 
 tion tuned its lyre in the immortal strains of 
 Homer ; it still raves in the fantastic measures 
 of the war-dance and death-song of the Indian. 
 It framed the hideous Idol of the Ganges, whose 
 tremendous car is tracked by a stream of human 
 blood ; and it guided the chisel of the Grecian 
 sculptor, in forming an image of such transcen- 
 dent beauty, that he prayed the gods to animate 
 it with a living soul. 
 
 A fine instance of the creative exercise of the 
 imagination, connected with sensible imagery, 
 is seen in the Paradise Lost of Milton. His 
 garden of Eden is an assemblage of beautiful 
 objects divested of all that can give offence to 
 the most delicate conception. His Eve, in her 
 innocence, is a fine model of female excellence ; 
 and Adam the beau ideal of man as he came 
 from the hand of his Maker. While Satan, the 
 "dread commander" of the fallen spirits, stands 
 " proudly eminent ;" not having yet lost " all 
 his original brightness," he appears " archangel 
 ruined," and the excess of glory obscured : 
 As when the sun, new risen, 
 Looks through the horizontal misty air, 
 
292 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Shorn of his beams ; or from behind the moon 
 In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds 
 On half the nations, aod with fear of change 
 Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd so, yet shone 
 Above them all the archangel. 
 
 That effort of the imagination found in the 
 fine arts, affords us rich and varied sources of 
 enjoyment. Statuary and Painting have pre- 
 served the form and lineaments of the great and 
 the virtuous, who for ages have slept in the 
 dust; while the Poet, " glancing from heaven 
 to earth, from earth to heaven," sets before the 
 intellect a repast culled from the richest rarities 
 of the natural and die moral world. He seizes 
 upon the light and the shade, and the most deli- 
 cate touches of the Painter's palette and out- 
 does them all ; for he presses into his service 
 the melody of music and the power of language ; 
 nay, he bestows enchantment upon language, 
 filling it with metaphors and imager}-, giving 
 motion and soul to the inanimate universe. 
 
 In the voluntary and persevering employment 
 of the creative energy given by imagination, 
 under the direction of Reason, do we find the 
 highest exercise of the intellect ; and this we 
 may term Genius. It is the characteristic of 
 great minds ; it carries the "feelings and fresh- 
 ness of youth into the matured strength of man- 
 hood," its greenness appears, even among the 
 
IMAGINATION. 293 
 
 whitening frosts of age, and its light and warmth 
 casta cheerful. beam over the chilling shades 
 that hover around the tomb. The truly great 
 mind is continually progressing, continually ac- 
 cumulating, and when called to clothe itself with 
 immortality, it leaves behind it an immortality 
 of fame.* 
 
 Genius has been compared to the diamond 
 which has the peculiar property of refracting 
 and reflecting the prismatic colours. Thus 
 genius refracts and reflects the light it receives 
 from other minds, and arranges thoughts thus 
 furnished, so that the light of truth falls upon us 
 bright and with added lustre. " A Newton or 
 a Shakspeare," says a modern author, " de- 
 prived of kindred minds and born among sav- 
 ages — savages had been." Doubtless they had 
 been great among savages, perhaps revered as 
 demi-gods, either for some surprising invention, 
 or some unknown power of controuling minds. 
 
 The early youth of Sir Isaac Newton shews 
 the developement of his imagination in both 
 painting and poetry, and his kind and social 
 nature constantly directed his inventive power 
 to the labour that might be agreeable or benefi- 
 cial to others. His Reason set before him ne- 
 cessary truth in all its vividness, and his moral 
 nature, being renewed and sanctified by the 
 
 • Note P. 
 
294 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Spirit of Truth, the activity of his ardent mind 
 was led to researches that crowned him with 
 honour, and made him the glory of his age ; 
 while he, as a child who had wearied himself 
 with gathering pebbles on the ocean's shore, 
 turned meekly to the Father of his spirit, where, 
 drawing wisdom from its Fountain, he gently 
 passed from a world which he had helped to 
 enlighten, to one where Light unclouded, and 
 Love unalloyed, eternally reign. 
 
 The apostle Paul was eminently a man of 
 genius ; all his writings prove it, and his actions 
 join in the testimony. The warmth of his ima- 
 gination, directed by an erring conscience, for 
 he verily thought to do God service, in youth 
 led him to the persecution of those whom he 
 considered blasphemers of the God of his fa- 
 thers ; but when touched by the finger of Truth 
 Divine, the scales fell from the eyes of natural 
 reason, straightway Paul preached Christ, con- 
 founding the Jews by the strength of his rea- 
 sonings. Then did he, in the mighty activity 
 of his mind, go from city to city, proclaiming the 
 truth in the name of Him whom he now be- 
 lieved to be the Holy and the Just. In the 
 majesty of internal greatness he stood before 
 kings and governors unabashed, and while with 
 them he reasoned of truth, of righteousness and 
 of judgment to come, they trembled before this 
 
IMAGINATION. 295 
 
 prisoner, "weak in bodily presence," and con- 
 fessed the power of his eloquence. His mind 
 with amazing activity, runs along the whole line 
 of truth, taking possession of its strongest points. 
 To the proud reasonings of the human under- 
 standing, he answers, "-let God be true, but 
 every man a liar" ; to the scoffing caviller against 
 the sovereignty of the Creator, he applies reason 
 in all its sublimity. " Nay but, O man, who 
 art thou that repliest against God ?" and con- 
 cluding this unanswerable and wonderful argu- 
 ment, his enlightened reason triumphantly ex- 
 claims, " Oh, the depth of the riches, both of 
 the wisdom and knowledge of God!" and then, 
 amazed, as his imagination reaches this concep- 
 tion of Divine wisdom, the Apostle humbly ac- 
 knowledges, " How unsearchable are His judg- 
 ments, and His ways past finding out." After 
 a life of untiring activity in the most glorious of 
 all labours, disseminating truth ; during which, 
 Paul not only abandoned the honours, that, by 
 the world would have been awarded to his 
 genius, but he patiently endured the loss of 
 home, of country, of reputation, and gave up 
 life itself ; while the eye of his mind, and all 
 the feelings of his ardent soul were fixed on 
 things, not discoverable by the senses, but to 
 his spiritual vision, assisted by the glass of faith, 
 were clearly revealed, and full of glory. This 
 
296 IMAGINATION. 
 
 is, perhaps, the highest example of imagination 
 kindling in the rays of Truth natural and Di- 
 vine ; thus is man immeasurably exalted above 
 his animal nature and becomes truly great. 
 
 But the imagination is sometimes much under 
 the influence of the senses, or the understanding 
 that judges according to sense ; hence the de- 
 plorable abuse of this high intellectual power. 
 How much fine thought is often expended on 
 subjects far too trivial to occupy the time of 
 beings whose present existence is but a span, 
 whose futurity runs along the ages of eternity, 
 accompanied with the immense responsibility 
 of the right employment of the passing mo- 
 ments. It seems a wonder in folly, that a life- 
 time should be spent in writing odes and poems 
 on the most trifling of subjects, often the most 
 immoral; or in spinning out, as did Richardson, 
 the adventures of imaginary heroes and hero- 
 ines, through numerous and tiresome volumes. 
 The exercise of the imagination, in such in- 
 stances, becomes a ruling passion, sometimes 
 subservient to the worst passions of our nature. 
 It was said of Pope that he wrote to obtain ap- 
 plause or to gratify vanity. He imagined foes 
 where he had none, for the purpose of saying a 
 witty thing, or to draw observation. 
 
 Of the celebrated and unfortunate poet Sav- 
 age, Dr. Johnson says, " His mind was in an 
 
IMAGINATION. 297 
 
 uncommon degree vigorous and active, his judg- 
 ment was accurate, his apprehension quick and 
 his memory tenacious, but it cannot be said, 
 that he made use of his abilities for the direc- 
 tion of his own conduct ; an irregular and dis- 
 sipated life made him the slave of every passion 
 that happened to be excited by the presence of 
 its object, and that slavery to his passions re- 
 ciprocally produced a life irregular and dissi- 
 pated." Dean Swift was remarkable for his sel- 
 fishness, pride and overbearing temper. His 
 pen was often dipped in gall, and in the latter 
 part of his life, he abandoned himself to angry 
 passion, and whether through that, or remorse 
 for the wreck he had made of the trusting affec- 
 tions of his injured victims, alternate frenzy and 
 idiocy took possession of his highly gifted intel- 
 lect, that by its commanding power seemed in- 
 tended for the noblest purpose. 
 
 How unlike the above men, whose names 
 stand enrolled on the pages of fame, is the ex- 
 cellent Dr. Watts. He employed a vigorous and 
 active imagination and the stores of his exten- 
 sive knowledge in providing instruction for per- 
 sons of all ages ; for the child who is conning 
 his first lessons, as well as for the intellectual 
 readers of Malbranche and Locke. He who 
 successfully touched the Lyre of the Royal Da- 
 vid, descended to lisp the songs of infancy. 
 
298 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Intellect is truly sublime, even godlike, in its 
 exercise when it descends to instruct the igno- 
 rant and the feeble. The Almighty, who holds 
 the winds in His hand, and guides the forked 
 lightening, disdains not to weave a robe of 
 beauty for the lily of the field, or find a shelter 
 for the bird of the air. The Redeemer of men 
 when engaged in the sublime work of saving a 
 world from ruin, while devils fled affrighted at 
 His miracles, and angels gazed upon him in 
 wonder, stayed the mighty workings of His 
 power, to bless the little children. 
 
 The gift of fertile, creative, evolving thought, 
 is bestowed upon some minds, not to waste 
 on the trifles of an hour, but, that in the no- 
 blest effort displayed to us of His creative 
 power, — the human soul, the Divine Creator 
 might be glorified. How then can we wonder 
 that a perversion of that high gift, by means of 
 selfish passion, or the, pride of the sensual under- 
 standing, and a wilful departure from the light 
 of reason and of conscience, with rejection of 
 Revelation made by the Father of Spirits, should 
 not meet the punishment so justly incurred? 
 Can we wonder that the proud intellect, which 
 dares revolt against its Creator, should, Nebu- 
 chadnezzar-like, be deprived of the Reason it 
 disgraces, and be degraded to a level with the 
 brute ! Rarely, to such, as to the king of Bab- 
 
IMAGINATION. 299 
 
 ylon, does reason return, with sentiments of 
 praise and honour to the Most High. 
 
 "He touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced, 
 
 And praised. 
 
 Thus full of titles, flattery, honour, fame; 
 
 Beyond desire, beyond ambition full — 
 
 He died — he died of what? Of wretchedness. 
 
 Drank every cup of joy ; then died of thirst. 
 
 Cut from the sympathies of life, 
 
 And cast ashore from pleasure's boisterous surge, 
 
 A wandering, weary, worn and wretched thing ; 
 
 Scotched and desolate, and blasted soul." Pollok. 
 
 These lines, it is supposed, refer to Lord By- 
 ron ; they might be applied to any highly gifted 
 intellect that makes shipwreck of reason, of con- 
 science and of faith t dashing upon the rocks of 
 sensual pleasure and of passion. 
 
 -In the season of youth, the mind, if intellec- 
 tual, often loves its" own musings more than all 
 the enjoyments procured by reality. " During 
 such moments," says Rousseau, " my soul loses 
 itself and roves through the universe upon the 
 wings of imagination in an extacy, which ex- 
 ceeds all other enjoyment." In this state of 
 excited fancy should not truth be presented and 
 even pressed upon the youthful mind, too prob- 
 ably may its energies be wasted upon idealities ; 
 fiction carrying with it a higher charm, for the 
 very reason that reality as we find it in our im- 
 perfect world, has something repulsive to the 
 
300 IMAGINATION. 
 
 refined perceptions of the imagination, which 
 has the ability to pencil out its own forms of 
 beauty, and give to them its own colourings. 
 Lamentable indeed is the condition of those who 
 thus reject the guidance of reason and abandon 
 themselves to the leadings of an erratic ima- 
 gination. By the power of this wonderful ma- 
 gician they rove in fields of light, where foun- 
 tains flow with nectar, and trees drop down 
 ambrosia ; but one stroke of his wand turns this 
 fairy land to a wilderness, and the common cur- 
 rent of life becomes more bitter from the con- 
 trast. The poor visionary is often too miser- 
 able for endurance. See this in the history of 
 Rousseau, of Burns, and of Byron. 
 
 The imaginative person forms the beau ideal 
 of characters in accordance with his own fan- 
 cied perfection, and then worshipping the crea- 
 ture of his imagination, the every day person- 
 ages around him have but little hold upon his 
 affections. He is the most unstable of all friends 
 because forever disappointed in his expectations 
 from them. Of Rousseau it was said, that it 
 was scarcely possible to continue long on an 
 intimate footing with him. He selfishly indulged 
 his own feelings, and loved more than any be- 
 ings the imaginary creations of his own brain. 
 Said Madame De Stael of him, " I am certain 
 that the woman he loved most, or perhaps that 
 
IMAGINATION. 301 
 
 he loved at all, was his own Julia, the heroine 
 of his romance." The more the imagination is 
 under the influence of the sensual understanding, 
 the more it wanders into the labyrinths of fic- 
 tion, perhaps of falsehood. The further the 
 mind departs from the truth, the more imper- 
 fect does its sense become of moral obligation ; 
 the nobler emotions of the soul evaporate in 
 frothy sensibilities that have no foundation in 
 nature or in duty, and the holiest ties are often 
 by the sentimentalist snapped asunder as cords 
 that touch the fire. Dean Swift and Sterne in 
 their trifling with the most sacred affections of 
 the heart shewed their extreme selfishness, as 
 well as destitution of moral principle. 
 
 Of this want of principle we have an illustration 
 in the insatiable novel-reader. Absorbed in the 
 woes of some fancied heroine, she finds it diffi- 
 cult to tear herself away, even to minister to the 
 wants of an invalid mother, or to bestow the requi- 
 site cares upon a suffering sister. How can she 
 return to the common train of household affairs 
 while the accomplished Augustus is still suffer- 
 ing from the stings of wounded feeling, or en- 
 gaged in some adventure of intense interest ? 
 
 A } r oung woman whose education had been 
 just sufficient to give her a relish for works of 
 fiction, married at an early age. The husband 
 was an industrious mechanic, who could not 
 
302 IMAGINATION. 
 
 afford a servant for his wife, and she could not 
 give up what she called her literary pursuits, 
 but continued in her lonely hours to read every 
 charming novel she could procure. The young 
 husband frequently came home expecting a din- 
 ner, and found his wife upon her bed, hastily 
 concealing one of those intoxicating books, while 
 she complained of a severe headache ; no din- 
 ner was in preparation. An increasing family, 
 it would seem might have called the mother's 
 attention from the objects of her ideality, but it 
 was not so ; the Helens and the Julias, the 
 Henrys and the Edwards of romance, inspired 
 sufficient interest to make her forget her own 
 offspring. From a comfortless home, the hus- 
 band retreated to a tavern, while the children 
 in rags, and dirt, and starvation, hung round a 
 mother, whose sentimentality now expended 
 itself in loud complaints against an unfeeling 
 world and a hard fate. This case is no fiction. 
 Not many years ago it was a melancholy reality 
 to those whose benevolence drew them to the 
 assistance of the suffering family ; and sad was 
 it to behold the proud and infatuated woman, 
 repulse with the scorn of an injured heroine, 
 those, who in kindness, offered to provide fitting 
 employment for her almost naked and starving 
 children. Her darlings nurtured with such fond 
 affection should never become the menials of 
 
IMAGINATION. 303 
 
 others ; heaven would provide for them better 
 than an unfeeling world, and would reward her 
 hereafter for the miseries she endured here. 
 Mrs. B. continued to read novels and sentimen- 
 talize until she was carried to the poor-house. 
 
 It is to be feared that this perverted use of 
 the imagination by which the mind is led to de- 
 light in works of fiction, has been, in innumer- 
 able instances, attended with consequences as 
 disastrous as those just related. Our sex are 
 especially injured by this kind of reading. To 
 write a good story requires an effort of mind not 
 at all necessary in its perusal ; and to those who 
 dislike the labour of thinking, such reading is a 
 most desirable occupation ; it creates that dreamy 
 excitement, allied to sensitive pleasure, which, as 
 Rousseau, describing his own case, says, " at- 
 tracts the senses, and supplying the place of 
 mental operations, causes me to feel a pleasure 
 in my existence, without the labour of thought." 
 The mind, thus indulged, becomes feeble and 
 incapable of that exercise required by study. 
 A young person who has suffered her fancy thus 
 to rove, will obtain her knowledge of History 
 from Sir Walter Scott, her ideas of life from 
 Miss Edgworth, and her religion from Mrs. 
 Sherwood. 
 
 By this observation, my young friends, I mean 
 no disparagement to the eminent authors thus 
 
304 • IMAGINATION. 
 
 noticed, whose works however admirable in 
 their kind, are very liable to misuse ; I would 
 only caution you against a propensity to indulge 
 in mental indolence, while you erroneously ima- 
 gine youselves engaged in the cultivation of 
 your minds. It is not unusual for a mother to 
 laud the studious habits of her daughter, when 
 that daughter consumes the midnight oil, to the 
 ruin of her health, in the entrancing occupation 
 of novel-reading. " She is too fond of learn- 
 ing," says the fond mother, " to be of use to 
 me, pity she should not be sent to school, and 
 fitted for a teacher." The daughter rejoicing 
 at the prospect of emancipation from the thral- 
 dom of domestic avocations, consents. At school 
 she is the worst scholar in her classes ; study is 
 labour, and the novel requires no labour, while 
 it sufficiently and delightfully occupies the indo- 
 lent mind, therefore the novel finds a place in 
 her desk, and takes precedence of the Geog- 
 raphy and History ; it is concealed from the 
 eye of the Teacher, and even at recitation at- 
 tracts many a stolen and hurried glance. In- 
 deed, who that has been pampered upon the 
 sweets of fiction can find an appetite 7 for the 
 realities of science ? 
 
 This love of fiction is a foe, still more fearful 
 to religion than to science. A pious young man 
 once remarked with sorrow, that his sister who 
 
IMAGINATION. 305 
 
 was a professor of piety, gave herself so much 
 to the reading of religious novels during the 
 week, that the sacred hours of the Sabbath, not 
 employed in public devotion, seemed to her a 
 weariness ; for conscience, or habit, or fear of 
 censure, forbade the cherished fiction, and the 
 reading of her Bible appeared a task too great 
 to be endured. 
 
 But the imagination, you tell me, will seek 
 its aliment. Be it so ; but let it seek to nourish 
 itself at pure and healthful fountains. Let it 
 seek rational as well as pleasant exercise, that 
 it may develope itself and expand in thought 
 elevated and refined. Would you a feast of 
 classic lore P take then the pages of the elegant 
 Xenophon, follow the footsteps of his favorite 
 Cyrus, obedient and temperate as a youth, hu- 
 mane and generous as a conqueror ; as a man 
 just, benevolent and pious ; calm in death with 
 the heathen's hope of immortality. Holding 
 the glass of History, see Thebes with its hun- 
 dred gates ; Athens the city of Pericles, rich in 
 temples, porticos and statues. With Marius 
 look in solemn silence upon the ruins of mag- 
 nificent Carthage ; thence wander to the plains 
 of Egypt and weep as you see the headless body 
 of the great Pompey, the conqueror of Asia, 
 deserted by the whole world, interred beneath 
 
 the treacherous sands, by the hands of a slave. 
 20 
 
306 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Look, and you will see empires rise and fall, 
 magnificent cities turned to heaps of unsightly 
 rubbish, and the great ones, who filled the earth 
 with their deeds of glory, finding a narrow lodg- 
 ing beneath its clods. One Dominion alone 
 remains, progressing in strength and glory, un- 
 der the rule of Him, whose title is the Prince 
 of Peace. 
 
 Would you a gentler topic, then " springing 
 from the bed of sloth, " enjoy with the poet, 
 
 "The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour* 
 To meditation due, and sacred song. 1 * 
 
 See 
 
 "The lessening cloud, 
 The kindling azure, and the mountain brow 
 Illum'd with fluid gold." 
 
 Or would imagination take a higher flighty 
 soar with the lofty Milton ; bid old Time roll 
 back his car, and carry you to the beginning of 
 all created things. There may you tread the 
 groves of Paradise ; then mourn with fallen Eve, 
 
 " These happy walks and shades, these flow'rs 
 That never will in other climate grow." 
 
 And when the sightless Bard suspends his 
 strain, then may you set forward with the good 
 Pilgrim of the inimitable Bunyan. Should you 
 travel, not in imagination only, but in faith, from 
 the plain of Destruction to the Celestial City, 
 you will then be prepared to take the harp of 
 
IMAGINATION. 307 
 
 David, and sing the song that angels never can 
 aspire to raise, of "Glory to Him who hath 
 loved us, and washed us in his own blood." 
 
 But beware, I entreat you that your religion 
 be not that of the imagination. Reason as well 
 as Revelation teaches, that the far-off starving 
 Prodigal, cannot satisfy the cravings of his hun- 
 ger, with the " bare imagination of a feast," set 
 out in the hails of his deserted Father. Can 
 the selfish, sensual mind, filled with its own 
 disordered fancies, rationally imagine, that its 
 fitful musings on another world, a better and 
 brighter land, inspired perhaps by some sudden 
 quarrel with this, which like the quarrels of 
 lovers, will soon end in renewed and added 
 affection ; can such a mind rationally imagine 
 these unhallowed invocations, acceptable as 
 spiritual communion with Him who is infinite 
 in purity, demanding the whole heart ? This 
 heart, being still at an unmeasurable distance 
 from God, and filled with unrighteous desires 
 after its own gratifications. In vain does the 
 imagination in its " costly devotion," offer to 
 God the precious things it prizes most. The 
 cattle on a thousand hills are His own ; such 
 " oblations" please Him not. In vain does it 
 make an idol of its fancied virtue ; " sell all 
 and follow me," is His command. 
 
 The much admired poet Burns, in a letter to 
 
308 IMAGINATION. 
 
 his father, thus expresses himself; " I am quite 
 transported at the thought that, ere long, per- 
 haps very soon, I shall bid an eternal adieu to 
 all pains and uneasiness and disquietude of this 
 weary life ; for I assure you I am heartily tired 
 of it, and if I do not deceive myself, could con- 
 tentedly and gladly resign it. 
 
 "The soul uneasy, and confined at home, 
 Rests and expatiates in a life to come." 
 
 "It is for this reason I am more pleased with 
 the 15th, 16th and 17th verses of the 7th chap- 
 ter of Revelation, than with any ten times as 
 many verses in the whole Bible, and would not 
 exchange the noble enthusiasm with which they 
 inspire me for all that this world has to offer. I 
 am not formed for the bustle of the busy, nor 
 the flutter of the gay. I shall never again be 
 capable of entering into such scenes." In a 
 few days after the writing of this letter our poet 
 in giving a welcoming carousal to the new year 
 with his gay companions, suffered his flax to 
 catch fire, and his shop to be consumed to ashes.* 
 
 In this case we have an instance of the reli- 
 gion of the imagination. There is such a thing 
 as connecting what is beautiful and sublime in 
 nature with ideas of God and heaven, and so 
 creating a religion the Bible does not warrant— 
 a religion that may well be called imaginative. 
 
 * Life of Robert Burns, prefixed to his works. 
 
IMAGINATION. 309 
 
 It is frequently the religion of the Poet and the 
 Novelist. " God, Love and Poetry," said La- 
 martine, " are the three words which I should 
 wish engraven on my tomb." 
 
 Imagination alone is a most uncertain guide 
 in the path of duty ; it will go no farther in form- 
 ing the character for piety than in forming it for 
 benevolence. The mind is frequently wrought 
 up by a scene of distress or an eloquent speech 
 to a sudden fit of charity ; but it does not last, 
 there is no fixed principle of love to God and love 
 to man. So with religion. When the voyager 
 in the lovely twilight of a summer's evening hears 
 the prayers ascending on the silent pathless 
 ocean, from the lips of solitary mariners, the 
 soul may be elevated with unutterable emotion ; 
 but it rises on the wings of imagination alone, 
 unless it bear within it a principle of holiness.* 
 Without this, there can be no true religion, even 
 should the mind be raised to the highest pitch 
 of devotional excitement. Indeed imagination 
 unrestrained, often abuses religion by making it 
 an instrument in the hands of passion. See 
 persecution in all its nameless and revolting 
 forms, imagining thus to do God service ; as 
 well as superstition in seeking to propitiate His 
 favour by sacrifices He has not commanded, or 
 in the execution of His supposed secret purposes. 
 
 * Pilgrimage to the Holy Land, page 32. 
 
310 IMAGINATION. 
 
 " Selim conquered Egypt, and having mounted 
 a magnificent throne, erected on the bank of the 
 Nile, he ordered the whole race of the oppres- 
 sors of that fine country to be conducted to his 
 presence. Twenty thousand Mamelukes were 
 then massacred before his e}^es, and their bodies 
 were cast into the river. This barbarity was 
 dictated, not by any cruelty of disposition, but 
 by that idea of fatality which makes a man 
 place faith in his mission ; and to fulfil the will 
 of God, of whom he thinks himself the instru- 
 ment, he regards the world as his conquest and 
 mankind as dust beneath his feet. That same 
 hand, which was thus stained with the blood of 
 so many thousand men, wrote poetry full of 
 
 »# 
 
 resignation, mildness and philosoph 
 
 Thus, does the imagination, building its faith 
 upon the objects of sense, and upon the pride 
 that aspires to divine inspiration, make God a 
 confederate in its unhallowed services, its tyran- 
 nic usurpation over the belief and consciences 
 of others ; aud thus does it become the most 
 fearful instrument of evil.f 
 
 Said Mrs. Hawkes in a letter to a young friend, 
 "I recommend to you to make it as I do one 
 part of sincere and fervent prayer that my Di- 
 vine Protector will not suffer either Satan or any 
 of his evil agents to approach my imagination. 
 * Pilgrimage to the Holy Land. f Note Q. 
 
IMAGINATION. 311 
 
 The imagination is a faculty less under our con- 
 trol than any other ; and to have this sanctified 
 should be our earnest supplication." To ascend 
 to the Source of all things, to the invisible God 
 by the prayer of faith, is the highest effort of 
 conception, the most exalted act of the human 
 intellect ; it is the soul in its greatest activity, 
 its spiritual life connected with its highest intel- 
 lectual vigour. Faith is the gift of God to the 
 rational spirit, which in its sense of utter desti- 
 tution of all inherent good, looks with humility, 
 to Him, who is the Fountain of all blessing, and 
 rises by the aid of the Divine Spirit upon the wings 
 of the sanctified imagination to worlds unknown. 
 Then does human Reason behold undazzled, 
 " that Light, in which there is no darkness at all." 
 
 My dear friends, we are peculiarly interested 
 in this branch of our subject. As these illustra- 
 tions have been placed before you, doubtless 
 you have been made sensible of the danger 
 arising from an undue license given to the most 
 active as well as most delightful of our mental 
 faculties; and must now be aware of the im- 
 portance of holding it under the control of 
 Reason and Religion. To this let me most 
 earnestly exhort you. 
 
 Our sex indeed seldom exhibit that high ope- 
 ration of mind which in the arts and sciences is 
 termed Genius. We find not among them a 
 
312 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Homer or Milton ; a Raffaelle or Corregio ; a Mo- 
 zart or Handel; a Leibnitz or Newton. Should 
 we search for the reason, we might find it partly 
 in the early indulgence that more or less ener- 
 vates the mind, partly in the indolence which is 
 the natural result of a condition that leaves them 
 free from the obligation to gain their subsistence 
 by labour. Yet the necessity under which na- 
 ture has laid Woman to find her happiness in 
 the finest and strongest emotions of the soul, 
 fills her with ideality, and gives an activity to 
 thought that frequently leads to the most grievous 
 errors. Here is her danger ; here if the sensi- 
 tive feelings take the lead she may be wretched, 
 even undone. Imagination weaving with its 
 rainbow tints a destiny, as brilliant, not more 
 lasting than the changing bow of heaven, will 
 readily give to the shifting scene an aspect 
 gloomy as the wildest tempest. Few indeed, 
 like the unfortunate Lady, celebrated by Pope, 
 put a period to an existence rendered miserable 
 by the destruction of cherished hopes, yet many 
 augment the unhappiness of their condition by 
 impatience, fretfulness and repining. Again, 
 there are those who imagine neglect and un- 
 kindness, when it does not exist, thus drawing 
 it upon themselves ; and some, we would hope 
 few, frantically rush where passion leads, and 
 find their own destruction. 
 
IMAGINATION. 313 
 
 The highly sensitive nature of woman, less 
 under the control of reason than that of man, 
 often carries her to extremes, sometimes through 
 the strength of her affections, sometimes through 
 a misguided conscience ; but blessed be that 
 Grace more abundantly bestowed upon her, 
 which often gives to the weaker sex, surprising 
 control over feeling, unshaken fortitude in suf- 
 fering, and triumph in the hour of death. 
 
 Then, think it not a degraded condition to be 
 debarred from the more public walks of life, 
 and deprived of the glory which belongs to the 
 higher efforts of genius. Such a sphere of ac- 
 tion was not intended for our sex, though it is 
 true, that strong and brilliant intellect unre- 
 pressed by circumstance, has sometimes ren- 
 dered woman a blessing, sometimes a curse to 
 our world. If the genius of a Hannah More, 
 like the healthful breezes of the west, comes 
 with kindliest influences ; that of a Mary Wol- 
 stoncraft, like the Sirocco of the desert, bears 
 death and desolation upon its blast. Why 
 should woman desire that her paintings should 
 ornament the walls of Galleries and Cathedrals, 
 that her music should gain applause in Oratorios, 
 or her Tragedies meet the shouts of the box and 
 the pit ? why should she seek to figure in Con- 
 ventions or in the Halls of Legislature, when a 
 destiny so much more noble lies before her ? 
 
314 IMAGINATION. 
 
 To woman is assigned the delightful employ- 
 ment to restore in part the forfeited charms of 
 Eden : to her is allotted the important duty to 
 assist man by her gentle and prudent counsels, 
 and to lighten the burden of the curse which 
 through her means was brought upon him. 
 Mother of all living, it is through her that human 
 intellect takes whatever form is given by her 
 moulding power. Was it not Olympia that fos- 
 tered the passions of pride, ambition and cru- 
 elty in the bosom of her son — Alexander, the 
 mighty Conqueror of the East ? And did not 
 the mother of Washington inculcate truth, kind- 
 ness and every virtue in the breast of the Chris- 
 tian Hero — the noble Defender of the West? 
 Let not Woman then complain of her destiny, 
 nor engage in the petty quarrel about equality 
 of mind ; but so cultivate her mental powers 
 that she may with propriety and dignity fill the 
 high station assigned her by the Creator. Let 
 imagination in her be corrected and refined by 
 judgment, and controled by reason and con- 
 science. In fine, brought under the influence 
 of Religion, let her leave to man the adventu- 
 rous flights of soaring genius ; and while with 
 eagle's eye he gazes on the sun, let her active 
 and ingenious thought, her cultivated taste pre- 
 pare such refreshment in social life as shall 
 draw him from the dangerous height, perhaps 
 
IMAGINATION. 315 
 
 save him from the disastrous plunge into the 
 gulf of ruin. Let us resign to man the man- 
 agement of the powers of nature, and the mas- 
 tery of the arts by which Providence permits 
 him to control these powers. Let him mea- 
 sure the stars, and direct the lightening in its 
 flight ; be it our delightful employment, by the 
 humble supplications of pure and unwavering 
 Faith, to draw on him, on us, blessings from the 
 Heaven of heavens. 
 
PART m. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FEELING. 
 
 In analyzing the corporeal frame, Physiolo- 
 gists have not, as yet, come to any certainty 
 respecting the seat of life and action. Whether 
 its vitality be in the heart or the lungs, whether 
 motion be produced by the nerves or the mus- 
 cles, still appears a difficulty in scientific re- 
 search. But the beautiful harmony existing 
 among the varied and wonderfnl organs of the 
 human frame, in which all the parts unite, with- 
 out interference, to contribute to its vitality and 
 action, is truly admirable. 
 
 In the analysis of mind, we cannot ascertain 
 how its connection with matter by means of the 
 senses operate with its intelligence in the pro- 
 duction of its knowledge and its feelings, or how 
 its perceptions and emotions affect each other ; 
 but we do know, that there is a connection so 
 intimate between the sentient and intellectual 
 states, between them and the moral powers, 
 
318 PEELING. 
 
 that it seems to require a united action of the 
 whole to produce intellectual and moral life. 
 The mind is one, indivisible, requiring for its 
 healthy exercise the operation of every faculty. 
 Life seems to pervade the whole bodily frame, 
 so that we cannot say where its seat is ; yet 
 there are parts which do not appear essential to 
 the vitality of the body. Deprive it of a limb, 
 and the vital functions will not be deranged, its 
 movements even will not be much impeded. 
 With the mind this is not so. Take from man 
 the understanding depending upon the senses, 
 and he would be less fitted for his condition in 
 this world than the animal who knows and acts 
 from the impulse of his instinct. Take away 
 memory, and the past would be annihilated, 
 his state would be idiocy. Deprive the mind 
 of imagination and there is no longer for it any 
 charm in this world of matter, its creative power 
 would be gone, and the chief source of emotion 
 dried up. Let reason be driven from the intel- 
 lect, and the animal nature would herd with the 
 beasts of the field. Deprive it of emotion or 
 feeling, and it would lose all social blessedness 
 and all spring to noble action. Take from it 
 conscience, and the human mind would alter- 
 nately grovel with the reptiles of the earth, and 
 aspire with proud and fallen spirits to the usur- 
 pation of unhallowed dominion. Deprived of 
 
FEELING. 319 
 
 will, man would become a piece of mechanism, 
 no longer a person but a thing. 
 
 Feeling is a term used to express a sense of 
 the body. It has its seat most probably in the 
 nerves, and gives origin, chiefly through the 
 touch, to a variety of pleasant and painful sen- 
 sations. The word feeling when applied to the 
 mind has an analogous meaning, and is used to 
 express the various pains and pleasures denom- 
 inated sentiments, emotions and passions. It 
 is probable that feeling whether of body or 
 mind is communicated to the external and in- 
 ternal perceptions, that is to sensation and to 
 consciousness, through the same organs — the 
 nerves. 
 
 Into this mystery we cannot pretend to pene- 
 trate, though we thus judge from the sympathy 
 established between the body and mind. Joy 
 gives light or brightness to the countenance ; 
 grief forces tears from the eye and sighs from 
 the bosom, surprise excites to sudden exclama- 
 tion ; if ludicrous causes laughter. Fear drives 
 back the current of the blood and leaves a deadly 
 paleness on the cheek ; shame, modesty and 
 anger accelerate its motion and send it rushing 
 to the surface. Sudden emotions, if strong, 
 produce trembling, sometimes intense pain in 
 various parts of the frame ; in some cases they 
 have been known to cover the youthful head 
 
320 PEELING. 
 
 with the frosts of age, and even to occasion 
 death. How intimate, how wonderful, even 
 mysterious, is the connection between the mate- 
 rial, mortal body, and the immaterial, immortal 
 spirit ! Can we wonder that the soul clings in 
 fond affection and strong emotion to its earthly 
 partner, and shrinks from the disrobing of its 
 " mortal coil" I 
 
 Feeling appears to belong to life, animal as 
 well as spiritual. By the term spiritual, here, 
 is meant what regards the soul. When any 
 part of the body is so paralysed that it loses 
 sensation and motion the term dead is applied 
 to it. The mind is sometimes in a state analo- 
 gous to this deadness of the body. So little 
 activity is there in thought that the perception 
 of relations is indistinct ; the memory is weak, 
 because the attention is seldom fixed upon any 
 object ; and for the same reason there is scarce 
 any power of abstraction, or of judgment. The 
 intellectual life or the combination of the ima- 
 gination and the reason is not discoverable. 
 This apathy appears in some cases to pervade 
 the whole mental constitution. The emotions 
 of wonder and surprise, are seldom called forth, 
 the admiration of the beautiful and the sublime 
 is never displayed. The social feelings and 
 moral emotions seem almost or quite extinct. 
 
 This is the most pitiable condition in life, and 
 
PEELING. 321 
 
 whether the effect of disease or arising from 
 other causes is most earnestly to be deprecated. 
 It is a well known fact that similar disease of 
 the body is often induced by neglect in child- 
 hood, as in the case of children who from want 
 of sufficient exercise and other attention become 
 sickly ; and in after life, indolence will occasion 
 a torpor in the animal functions, and often mor- 
 tal disease. There is such an intimate connec- 
 tion between the body and the mind, and so 
 much analogy, or similarity in their operations, 
 that it is difficult to resist the thought that men- 
 tal derangement in some of its forms may be 
 produced through the inactivity of the mind 
 itself. Coleridge calls madness " the sleep of 
 the spirit." He also says that, " great genius 
 is most alien from madness — divided from it 
 by an impassable mountain — namely the ac- 
 tivity of thought and vivacity of the accumula- 
 ting memory." This activity of thought as 
 well as the accumulating memory depends 
 much upon the voluntary action of the mind. 
 
 Emotion is derived from a word that signifies 
 to be moved out of rest, or put in motion, and 
 is applied to the mind only. Motion or move- 
 ment, seems a necessary condition of life, as 
 well as of the body as of the spirit ; and a state 
 of repose, is m itself so agreeable to nature, 
 
 that to overcome the inclination to remain at 
 21 
 
322 PEELING. 
 
 rest, strong excitement to action is requisite. 
 Our appetites — hunger and thirst, are strong 
 incentives to action, and induce to that labour 
 which is necessary to the sustenance of natural 
 life. Our mental perceptions also find in the 
 variety of objects presented to them through the 
 senses, an irresistible impulse to seek for know- 
 ledge. The relations, numerous and endearing, 
 by which we stand connected to each other, find 
 within the soul a corresponding chord by which 
 they move it to mighty action. Our rational 
 and moral nature fills it with still higher emo- 
 tions and prompts it to nobler action. 
 
 How amazing is that Wisdom, which in form- 
 ing the wondrous mechanism of the human 
 frame, has united it, in such intimate and har- 
 monious accord, with an immaterial and im- 
 mortal partner, endowed with faculties, so va- 
 ried, so complicated and so in unison with the 
 body, that they act, enjoy and suffer with each 
 other. The wonder still increases when we 
 reflect that this being, "of different natures, 
 marvellously mixed," has a strong propensity 
 to the inertness that belongs to matter, yet it is 
 furnished with such motives to activity, that it 
 rests not except when the objects of perception 
 are concealed by the veil of night: — and, so 
 delicately is it framed that the derangement of 
 one of the many thousand springs of action 
 
FEELING. 323 
 
 might occasion disorder among them all; still 
 does it move on in the loving intercourse of 
 body and soul, unless disturbed by accident or 
 perversity, until the Hand which made it, arrests 
 the movement, and dissolves the connection. 
 
 A variety of causes produce emotion or that 
 excitement of mind which prompts to corres- 
 ponding actions. The appetites, through the 
 means of which natural life is supported, induce 
 to that labour necessary to supply the wants of 
 the body. The pleasures annexed to the senses 
 of taste, smell and touch, excite to still greater 
 labour in the attainment of luxurious gratifica- 
 tion. Man taxes his ingenuity to procure deli- 
 cate meats and drinks for his palate, conven- 
 ient dwellings and soft couches for his repose. 
 When by these lower sensations the intellect is 
 so strongly moved that the attention is almost ex- 
 clusively fixed upon them, the memory recurs to 
 them with delight, and the associating power con- 
 nects them with all that gives satisfaction ; then 
 strong desire for sensual gratification springs up 
 in the mind, and the sensitive nature, if not 
 controlled by the higher operations of reason 
 and conscience, takes the lead, and the whole 
 soul submits to its dominion. Thus men be- 
 come gluttons, drunkards and sensualists. 
 
 The objects of sight and hearing address 
 themselves not only to the intelligence but to 
 
324 PEELING. 
 
 the imagination and the reason, and thus pro- 
 duce lively emotions. The new and strange 
 varieties in which they present themselves to 
 the understanding is the foundation of curiosity 
 and research. Hence the discoveries of science. 
 The imagination, in the objects of sight and 
 hearing, discovers qualities much finer than 
 those perceived by the gross senses, such as beau- 
 ty, sublimity, congruity, dignity, und harmony ; 
 thus are pleasurable emotions raised which 
 come under the denomination of the emotions 
 of Taste. These emotions give to life an inex- 
 pressible charm. 
 
 The soul or mind as we have seen is con- 
 nected to earth by the senses, and is formed not 
 only to know but to enjoy all that the world of 
 matter can exhibit and produce. But this is 
 not all, for mind every where seeks its fellow 
 mind. In his sensitive state, man is also social. 
 Creating Wisdom and Goodness declared it 
 " not good that he should be alone," and in 
 accordance, provided such ties of kindred as 
 involve endearing relations, from whence spring 
 some of the strongest emotions of the soul ; 
 feelings enduring as life, and sometimes stronger 
 than the love of life. 
 
 In our reason and our moral nature do we 
 find other sources of strong emotion and pow- 
 erful incentives to action. Reason searches for 
 
FEELING. 325 
 
 cause, and in this employment, men often forget 
 the cravings of nature for sustenance and re- 
 pose ; they even give up the enjoyments of so- 
 cial life, abandoning all in their research. Phi- 
 losophers in ancient days travelled through the 
 known world to seek for knowledge, and in later 
 times men have boldly encountered the rigours 
 of the arctic wave, and the dangers and priva- 
 tions incident to adventures in high northern 
 latitudes ; they have languished under the fiery 
 beams of the torrid sun, and have dared the 
 club of the ferocious savage, to establish facts 
 important to science. 
 
 Moral sense in its approbation of truth, just- 
 ice and benevolence sometimes carries the mind 
 to great and noble actions. Socrates, impelled 
 by this strong emotion, instructed the youth of 
 Athens in virtue and belief so contrary to hea- 
 then sentiment and practice, that they laid the 
 hand of violence upon the aged moralist. ' ' Alas, 
 cried one of his friends, that you should die, 
 being innocent." "How," replied the virtuous 
 Socrates, "would you then have me die guilty ?" 
 Howard, the philanthropist, in the exercise of 
 his natural and sanctified benevolence, made 
 long, fatiguing and repeated journies through 
 Europe, Asia, and Africa, visiting the prisons, 
 and relieving the prisoner degraded, afflicted 
 and suffering. Nor was this all, for he exposed 
 
326 FEELING. 
 
 himself to the peril of that most horrible mal- 
 ady the plague, that he might search into its 
 nature, and if possible discover a remedy to 
 relieve suffering humanity. Thus he writes in 
 his journal, " How should I bless God if such 
 a worm is made the instrument of alleviating 
 the miseries of my fellow creatures, and of thus 
 connecting more strongly the social bond by 
 mutual exertions for mutual relief." Says Fos- 
 ter of him in his celebrated Essay, " The law 
 that carries water down a declivity was not 
 more unconquerable and unvariable than the 
 determination of his feelings towards the main 
 object." 
 
 Man's moral and immortal nature, by which 
 he is connected to God and a future state of ex- 
 istence, is provided with a strong sense of ac- 
 countability which we call Conscience. His 
 sensitive nature shrinks from dissolution, and 
 his conscience or moral nature looks with fore- 
 bodings, sometimes with anguish intolerable, to 
 a future retribution. Hence also the fear of 
 death, common to all, which nothing but a well- 
 founded faith in the Salvation of the Gospel, 
 can overcome : and in this faith originates a 
 joy which the possession of an earthly empire 
 could not bestow ; a joy which no human ill, 
 even the prospect of the martyr's stake, and 
 the anguish of the devouring flame can destroy. 
 
FEELING. 327 
 
 There is between the intellectual powers and 
 the feelings a reciprocal action. When an ob- 
 ject is presented to a child a feeling of pleasure 
 or aversion is awakened, and the little one ex- 
 hibits voluntary action in his efforts to obtain 
 the pleasing object, or in turning away from the 
 disagreeable one, sometimes with show of strong 
 dislike. As with the infant so with others. The 
 perception brings the mind in contact with ob- 
 jects. A movement is thus caused and its vol- 
 untary action is exhibited in the attention given 
 to the object, impressing it upon the memory, 
 bringing it by association to the recollection ; 
 and thus in time making it the subject of all the 
 powers of the intellect. 
 
 A variety of causes depending upon our na- 
 ture in connection with the circumstances in 
 which we are placed, move the mind to action, 
 but why some are more influenced by the ob- 
 jects of the gross senses, others by the ideal or 
 imaginary qualities in objects, others again by 
 the social connections of life, and some few by 
 the necessary and moral relations of things, we 
 cannot tell. In this, as far as we can under- 
 stand, seems to originate the remarkable differ- 
 ence we notice in the pursuits and characters of 
 mankind. In this we find the sensual mind, 
 commonly coarse, sometimes brutal ; the ima- 
 ginative or refined, the social or philanthropic, 
 
328 TASTE. 
 
 the reasoning or philosophic, and the religious. 
 Though we find these distinct classes of char- 
 acter, yet we frequently find different and op- 
 posite characteristics mingled in the same per- 
 son. As in Savage the poet, who now appeared 
 a man of refined taste and profound thought, 
 now a man of pleasure, most selfish and dissi- 
 pated. Or in the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, 
 who was both a philosopher and a bigoted per- 
 secutor of the Christians. 
 
 To say that we should not suffer ourselves to 
 be influenced by feeling, is to speak without re- 
 flection. Insensibility is not a rational or moral 
 state. Our Creator has given us feeling as well 
 as intellect, and the right exercise of the mind 
 is in the full employment and balanced action 
 of all the powers of the soul. We must feel, 
 but our feelings should be right. The emotions 
 produced by our intellectual perceptions, by our 
 social and moral relations must be guided by 
 reason, by conscience, and by the Word of God. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TASTE. 
 
 Taste cannot in strictness be called a distinct 
 faculty of the mind, but rather a perception of 
 the qualities, bestowed upon objects by the ere- 
 
TASTE. 329 
 
 ative power of the imagination. In this act of 
 the mind association is also concerned in the 
 discovery of relations, and judgment in the de- 
 cision of their propriety. Thus taste is a deli- 
 cate and complicated exercise of the intellect 
 and belongs to its maturity. 
 
 All minds probably have a perception more 
 or less strong of agreeableness in the objects 
 that surround them. We see in children, and 
 even in savages a delight in what is new, strange 
 and showy, though they seem to have but a 
 slight conception of beauty. They love the 
 ludicrous, and take pleasure in fun, though they 
 perhaps can seldom be made to understand or 
 relish wit. A tale full of mystery or terror will 
 draw them in breathless attention around the 
 speaker, while a scene of real sublimity would 
 not affect them. But the mind as it advances 
 to maturity, especially if cultivated, perceives 
 beauty and sublimity, order and fitness in ob- 
 jects, and feels itself moved in the contempla- 
 tion. The emotion is either satisfaction, plea- 
 sure, or elevation ; and, if the object be new or 
 strange, curiosity and admiration. The deli- 
 cate act of the mental faculties, producing these 
 emotions, is called Taste. 
 
 Genius is the creative power of the mind ; 
 taste is the power of conceiving and apprecia- 
 ting whatever is lovely and elevated, correct 
 
330 TASTE. 
 
 and fit in creation — whether in the works of 
 nature or of art. An analogy perhaps may be 
 discovered in Taste and Genius to Beauty and 
 Sublimity. Taste is mental beauty, genius, 
 mental sublimity. In nature we find the ob- 
 jects of beauty much more abundant than the 
 objects of sublimity : in mind, taste is a quality 
 much more common than genius. Objects of 
 beauty give a gentle excitement to feeling, so 
 soft and pleasant as to constitute the great charm 
 of life ; objects of sublimity elevate the mind 
 beyond its natural pitch, a state that cannot in 
 the present existence, continue long without 
 injury to the body. The refinement which is 
 produced in character by a delicate and culti- 
 vated taste, so softens the severer virtues, as to 
 qualify its possessor the better for the difficult 
 duties of social life ; while genius carrying the 
 mind far beyond the common concerns of life, 
 fitting it for elevated station and uncommon 
 labours, often unfits it for society and the little 
 offices of friendship. 
 
 Most true it is, however, that a false refine- 
 ment, bearing the name of taste, being only its 
 affectation, will as surely turn away the mind 
 from duty as the aberrations of genius. A per- 
 son who has too much delicacy to enter the 
 chamber of sickness, or the abode of poverty ; 
 too much feeling to go near a friend or neigh- 
 
TASTE. 331 
 
 bour in affliction ; too much refinement to de- 
 scend to what is considered low employment, 
 even to provide comforts, whether for a family, 
 or for the sick and suffering, is surely as wrong 
 as the genius who is inelegant or eccentric in 
 manner, or careless and abstracted in conduct. 
 These are not unfrequent faults, and they mark 
 the imperfection of a nature which is ever aspi- 
 ring, though it too often mistakes the road to 
 perfection. 
 
 There are instances in which genius and taste 
 are beautifully blended, the intellectual nature 
 in sweet subjection to the moral, and bowing in 
 lovely humility at the feet of Religion. Such 
 was Dr. Watts ; such was Hannah More. This 
 union of the elevated and beautiful qualities of 
 mind affords a fit subject for admiration. Taste 
 cultivated by education, corrected by reason, 
 refined by Religion, must pay its homage to the 
 sublimity of genius united to the beauty of holi- 
 ness ; and though the eye of imagination may 
 cast an admiring look upon the efforts of genius, 
 unconnected with virtue, the glance will be 
 transient — the pure mind will recoil from it as 
 from the beauty of the basilisk. 
 
 This delicate action of the mental powers un- 
 doubtedly qualifies man for the enjoyment of 
 pleasures far superior to those procured by his 
 animal nature. Not only is he enabled to per- 
 
332 TASTE. 
 
 ceive and enjoy the perfection of skill exhibited 
 in the material works of the Divine Artist, but 
 also the perfection of the last and noblest piece 
 of His workmanship — the human soul. The 
 labours of past ages exhibit the power of the 
 intellect, and the inventions of the present show 
 its undiminished energy. The mind through its 
 imaginative perceptions, and by the delicacy of 
 its emotions assimilates itself with the great and 
 the good of the past, and in exalted enthusiasm 
 enters into the labours and the achievements of 
 the glorious dead : so also, is it drawn by kin- 
 dred feeling into friendship with the worthy of 
 the present, whether of our own or distant 
 countries. Blessed endowment of the Creator, 
 whereby we enjoy the beauty so profusely scat- 
 tered over His works, and whereby we are so 
 strongly united in the bonds of social intercourse ; 
 by which minds reciprocate thought and feeling. 
 Thus may we have a foretaste and an earnest 
 of the delights prepared in another state of ex- 
 istence, for those who love and serve Him. 
 
 But it may be, you object that this perception 
 of the beautiful and the sublime as well as other 
 delicate qualities in objects, has no necessary con- 
 nection with the moral nature of man, does not 
 lead him to the Giver of good, since it is bestowed 
 upon the most infidel among the scientific, and the 
 most immoral among poets, as well as upon th& 
 
TASTE. 333 
 
 moralizing philosopher and the cultivated Chris- 
 tian. True, but it is only another instance of 
 the aberration of the human intellect ; it marks 
 the divine original, but fallen ; for would the 
 infidel but listen to his reason he must be con- 
 vinced by the innumerable marks of adaptation, 
 skill and beauty impressed upon every object 
 he meets, that they are the works of Infinite 
 Design ; his moral sense would teach that the De- 
 signer must be Good ; that this goodness is that 
 of a Father. Not to love goodness where we 
 perceive it, and especially when we are the ob- 
 jects of it, marks great depravity, and ingratitude 
 is one of the most odious traits of human char- 
 acter. The loan of a common article of use, 
 will draw thanks from the grateful bosom, what 
 then must be the feeling with which we receive 
 as a possession for a life-time, not only a valu- 
 able property, but one to which every conven- 
 ience and elegance is added. He only truly, 
 because gratefully, enjoys, 
 
 "Who with filial confidence inspired, 
 Can lift to heav'n an unpresumptuous eye, 
 And smiling say — " My Father made them all: 
 Are they not His by a peculiar right, 
 And by an emphasis of interest his, 
 Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, 
 Whose heart with praise ?" Cowper. 
 
 « Unfortunate Rousseau, who styled himself 
 

 334 TASTE. 
 
 the priest of nature, cast in his dying hours a 
 longing, lingering look at the last beautiful sun- 
 set he ever saw, but did that hope of departing 
 to a brighter world of purer, higher beauty, 
 cheer his gloomy spirit ? It is to be feared that 
 many a gifted one, whose thoughts seem steeped 
 in earthly loveliness, has but little relish for the 
 beauties of holiness, the glories of the upper 
 Paradise. Still we must admit that the percep- 
 tion such have of the beautiful and sublime is 
 a faculty that belongs to a godlike nature. Mis- 
 erable indeed are those who use it only in its 
 perversion. 
 
 Various causes may be assigned for the di- 
 versity of taste so often noticed in mind. I 
 would here refer you to what has been already 
 remarked of the same kind of diversity found 
 among us with regard to the senses. Some 
 persons have an imperfect conception of colours, 
 on account of a defect in the eye, others of sounds, 
 arising from the like defect in the ear. Glaring, 
 though coarse objects, might please the first ; 
 noisy sounds, though discordant, might not offend 
 the last. A like diversity is found in the intellec- 
 tual perception, founded in the imagination. 
 
 There are other causes which contribute to 
 this diversity. 
 
 " 'Tis education forms the common mind." 
 The savage is perhaps more skilful in handling 
 
TASTE. 335 
 
 the bow and arrow than the cultivated man ; 
 but place him aside of the farmer and see his 
 awkwardness in the cultivation of a field or 
 garden. This is not on account of any natural 
 ability in the savage for managing the bow, or 
 incapability of sowing or planting a field, but 
 because he does well what he has been taught 
 to do. Custom has given him a facility for one 
 kind of labour, and want of custom has ren- 
 dered him unskilful in the other. Thus by habit 
 may the mind be rendered skilful in perceiving 
 beauties as well as in detecting defects. 
 
 We are all aware that we cannot conceive of 
 objects which we have never seen, of which we 
 have never heard or read, neither would our 
 imagination take delight in things with which it 
 has no agreeable association. The savage of 
 our wilds would be little struck with our pic- 
 tures or our music, he would scarcely compre- 
 hend them ; to his unpractised eye and ear they 
 would convey no meaning ; but the paint upon 
 the warrior's cheek and the battle song, would 
 rouse him, they convey the ideas of revenge 
 and glory to his mind. The cultivated fields 
 and gardens of the white man would give him 
 no pleasure, for he would think of his hunting 
 grounds laid low by the stroke of the axe, and 
 the burial places of his fathers desecrated by 
 the furrow of the plough. 
 
336 TASTE. 
 
 Taste, as it depends more upon the under- 
 standing than the reason, will be more or less 
 in exercise according as the objects offered to 
 the mind in youth have been addressed to its 
 more delicate perceptions. How can taste for 
 the beauties of nature be formed in those who 
 pass their lives in cities and seldom gaze on 
 field, or flood, or sky ? They will probably take 
 pleasure in the splendors of fashion and be 
 much delighted at a magnificent entertainment. 
 How can the traveller look with enthusiasm on 
 the ruins of Greece, when he has never read of 
 the City of Pericles, the battle-field of Miltiades, 
 or the glorious three hundred of Thermopylae ? 
 Few boys become mathematicians without in- 
 struction ; few girls grow up refined and pol- 
 ished women without training. But there is 
 this difference in the cases — science may be 
 acquired after the mind has reached maturity, 
 but refinement cannot. If in childhood the 
 mind has received coarse, low and indelicate 
 conceptions, the most careful teaching will not 
 be able to efface the impression. The natural 
 bent of the mind will be seen, and though judg- 
 ment in after life may teach the necessity of 
 correction, 3^ it is probable that the assumed 
 refinement will have the appearance of affecta- 
 tion. Let mothers think of this. 
 
 The cares of a life filled with the hurry of 
 
TASTE. 337 
 
 business, with the anxieties of accumulation, 
 with the toils of fashion, unfit the mind for the 
 refined emotions. To enjoy these it must be in 
 tune and at leisure for contemplation. How 
 much do those lose who never allow themselves 
 time to contemplate the starry heavens ; to gaze 
 on the moonlight as it " sleeps on bank" and 
 copse, or dances merrily upon the rippling tide ; 
 to inhale the breath of flowers, or listen till the 
 eye fills with emotion to the sweet strains of the 
 evening hymn. Surely there is enough of life 
 for its cares, its toils, its disappointments ; who 
 would not snatch a few moments from pain and 
 vexation to enjoy the sweets of nature and the 
 benefactions of Providence ? With what feel- 
 ings do those pray who never consider the 
 heavens the work of His fingers, the moon and 
 the stars which He has ordained ? Thus re- 
 gardless, how can they raise their hearts to His 
 glory which He has set above the heavens ? 
 
 How much do those lose who hold little or no 
 communion with the minds of the great and the 
 good; who even with the inclination, seldom 
 find the opportunity to enjoy a profitable book ; 
 who scarce find an hour for the endearing inter- 
 course of home and of friendship ; who live in 
 the throng, attaching themselves to the locomo- 
 tive that with the greatest velocity propels the 
 
 machinery of life ! Ah, do not days fly away, 
 22 
 
338 TASTE. 
 
 and nights also, in which no prayer has been 
 put up to the Giver of Life ? Will not Death 
 come before the poor worn-out spirit has had 
 leisure to enjoy its present existence, to make 
 acquaintance with itself, or its God ; to perform 
 the duties belonging to kindred, to friendship, 
 to society, and make preparation for its imme- 
 diate, perhaps sudden transition to another state 
 of existence ? 
 
 But the stronger emotions subdue for a time, 
 and even destroy the weaker. Violent grief, 
 or passion of any kind would withdraw the at- 
 tention from the objects of beauty and sublim- 
 ity. With the soul absorbed in sorrow, the 
 darkest midnight or the barren heath would be 
 in better accordance than the brightest sunshine, 
 and the loveliest landscape. Of Howard in the 
 accomplishment of his plans for the good of 
 mankind, it is remarked ; " The importance 
 of this object held his faculties in a state of 
 excitement, which was too rigid to be af- 
 fected by lighter interests, and on which there- 
 fore the beauties of nature and of art had no 
 power."* 
 
 There is no improvement in the works of the 
 imagination, for this reason ; they are the in- 
 vention of genius, and genius cannot be com- 
 municated, or copied. What poetic age has 
 * Foster's Essays. 
 
TASTE. 339 
 
 ever produced strains more elevated than the 
 Song of Moses, more touching to the heart than 
 the Psalms of David, more sublime than the 
 Prophecies of Isaiah f Virgil did not equal 
 Homer who served as his model, neither has 
 the skill of ages ever surpassed the fine speci- 
 mens of Grecian architecture, nor has the study 
 of elocution from his day to the present ever 
 given a rival to Demosthenes. Genius is a sort 
 of inspiration ; " born not made." When taste 
 is connected with genius it may happen that 
 inferior beauties which give pleasure to the 
 multitude afford very little or none to superior 
 minds, that have already expended themselves 
 on higher efforts. 
 
 Taste if not made, may at least greatly be im- 
 proved, as it depends much on the habit of correct 
 association already explained, as well as upon the 
 judgment of comparing art with nature. It very 
 often degenerates with those who in this day are 
 called the "talented," for the ability to execute 
 being the result of labour, it must happen that 
 they who labour to provide a variety sufficient to 
 gratify the appetite of a demanding community, 
 will depart from the beautiful simplicity of taste 
 and overload their productions with ornament. 
 Again in the affectation of simplicity they are 
 liable to degenerate into insipidity ; or in be- 
 coming copyists of those whose genius they 
 
340 TASTE. 
 
 admire, they abandon all dependence on the 
 power of their own imagination. 
 
 Taste is frequently connected with genius, 
 but not always so. Of this the readers of Shaks- 
 peare must be well aware. A man of genius 
 writes or speaks because he has something on 
 his mind he wishes to communicate, and is 
 often, through strong feeling, carried beyond 
 refinement. In his impetuosity he does not stop 
 to make selections. Affectation will, however, 
 in some, produce an attempt at embellishment 
 at the expense of truth and common sense. 
 " The compliments of Savage," says Dr. John- 
 son, " are constrained and violent, heaped to- 
 gether without the grace of order or the decency 
 of introduction." It is related of Malherbe, a 
 French poet, who had so refined his own lan- 
 guage as to elevate it to the majesty of the ode, 
 that one hour before his death he rebuked his 
 nurse for using a word not pure French. His 
 humour was sarcastic and his life vicious. He 
 was sufficiently devoid of reason and religion 
 to refuse to hear conversation about eternal 
 concerns at that solemn hour, because as he 
 said, he could not bear the inelegance of the 
 style.* Indeed that mind cannot be truly re- 
 fined in which the associations are not in ac- 
 cordance with its rational and moral nature. 
 * Dictionnaire Historique. 
 
TASTE. 341 
 
 Burns had a fine genius for poetry, but it is said 
 he had not that delicacy and refinement of taste 
 which might have been expected in so great a 
 poet. In prose composition he had not a relish 
 for the beauty of simplicity, but preferred the 
 quaintness of point and antethesis. Poor Burns, 
 highly gifted as he was, the lowest pleasures, 
 so incompatible with true refinement, led him 
 to the tavern, there to display the wild sallies 
 of his wit, and show the strength and degrada- 
 tion of his genius.* 
 
 In Coleridge, we have an example of the del- 
 icacy of taste united with the strength of genius ; 
 an illustration of his own idea of a great mind. 
 Strong minds, he says, rnay be imposing, coarse, 
 as often wrong as right ; great minds unite fem- 
 inine softness with masculine power. Coleridge 
 is thus described in his visit to the British Gal- 
 lery of Paintings. " He was in high spirits and 
 seemed to kindle in his mind at the contempla- 
 tion of the splendid pictures before him. I can 
 yet distinctly recall him, half leaning on his old 
 simple stick, with his hat off in his hand. What 
 the company thought of this silver-haired, bright- 
 eyed, music-breathing old man, I cannot guess. 
 His admiration for Reubens showed itself in a 
 sort of brotherly fondness. " Reubens," said 
 he, " does not take for his subjects grand or 
 * Life of Robert Burns, by Dr. Currie. 
 
342 TASTE. 
 
 novel conformations of objects ; he has no pre- 
 cipices, no forests, no frowning castles. No,, he 
 gets some little ponds, old tumble-down cot- 
 tages, two or three peasants, a hay-rick and 
 other such humble images, and handles these 
 every-day ingredients of all common landscape 
 as they are handled in nature. He extracts the 
 latent poetry out of these common objects — 
 that poetry and harmony which every man of 
 genius perceives in the face of nature." He 
 would sometimes say after looking a minute at 
 a picture, generally a modern one, " There is 
 no use in stopping at this j for I see the painter 
 had no idea. It is mere mechanical drawing- 
 Come on, here the artist meant something for the 
 mind." It was just the same with his know- 
 ledge of music. His appetite for what he thought 
 good was inexhaustible. He told me he could 
 listen to fine music for twelve hours together, 
 and go awa}^ refreshed. But he required in 
 music either thought or feeling; mere addresses 
 to the sensual ear he could not away with."* 
 
 This' long quotation will give to you a better 
 idea of Taste in the Fine Arts than perhaps I 
 could convey by explanation. When the mind 
 is truly refined its perceptions and correspond- 
 ing emotions will accord with truth natural and 
 moral. In the works of imagination it will de- 
 
 * Table Talk. 
 
TASTE. 343 
 
 tect a departure from nature, from reason, and 
 morality. Such a mind will find delight in the 
 varied loveliness which nature spreads over the 
 flowers of the field, the plumage of the bird, 
 the clouds of heaven, but it will turn wearied, 
 perhaps disgusted from the unsparing embel- 
 lishment, the gorgeous splendour with which art 
 sometimes seeks to outdo nature. Such a mind 
 will distinguish between wit and the offending 
 jest ; between simplicity and the affectation of 
 it. In the fine specimens of art, in painting, 
 in music, in architecture, in oratory, in litera- 
 ture, fashion will not be its guide. The deli- 
 cate and cultivated mind will seek in the artist 
 or author for feelings correspondent w T ith its 
 own ; for the beautiful simplicity and majesty 
 of nature ; for adaptation in the work to ra- 
 tional thought and correct sentiment : and if it 
 be a. work intended for use, for its adaptation 
 to the convenience that shall make it conducive 
 to comfort and happiness. Thus do the works 
 of art imitate those of the great Designer of 
 Nature, and are in accordance with that intel- 
 lectual perception of the mind called Taste. 
 
 True refinement of mind will seek in char- 
 acter that which is beautiful and elevated, not 
 according to the standards set up by custom, 
 upon the selfish principles of a corrupt nature, 
 but according to truth, as reason and moral 
 
344 TASTE. 
 
 sense perceive -it; above all as the Bible, which 
 we as professors of Christianity, acknowledge 
 to be the word of Truth, presents it. 
 
 It perhaps may not be amiss to say that among 
 the many improvements suggested in the pre- 
 sent day for the subject of education, and the 
 multiplied acquisitions, in consequence, made by 
 our sex, the cultivation of their taste is too much 
 neglected. The tender and elevated verse of 
 Tasso, the pure and lofty strains of Milton, have 
 given place to the exciting, though immoral muse, 
 of Byron and others like him. Vulgar and pro- 
 fane wit are now seen where once, lay the pages 
 that contained the delicate satires of Addison. 
 The almost divine allegory of Bunyan is by 
 many considered inferior to its imitation. In- 
 deed, who now are much conversant with the 
 classic pages of the past ? The moral tale, the 
 historical novel, the gleanings of travellers make 
 up the sum of common reading. 
 
 In what- are called the accomplishments in 
 education, together with the ornaments in dress, 
 and fhe furniture of the domestic home, we 
 abandon the directions of the taste, so natural 
 to woman, and suffer ourselves to be guided by 
 those artists who must change the fashion to 
 provoke fresh wants, and occasion new de- 
 mands upon their labours. The most exquisite 
 music is thrown aside because not new, the 
 
TASTE. 345 
 
 dress and furniture that drew forth high admi- 
 ration is uow exchanged because unfashion- 
 able. Women thus setting aside the judgment 
 that would bring contentment with the comforts, 
 and even elegancies, in possession, often involve 
 their families in difficulties, and help to bring 
 into their country the luxury, which sooner or 
 later will end in the ruin that luxury has brought 
 upon the great empires of the past. 
 
 Let woman be true to her rational nature and 
 her moral feeling, then will her associations of 
 thought be correct, her imagination active and 
 delicate, she will revolt at coarseness and im- 
 morality, and assert her own right to stand in- 
 dependent of fashion, or rather by the cultiva- 
 tion of her well balanced mind, be herself its 
 lawgiver. While a provision for the sustenance 
 of life belongs to man, its happiness, was en- 
 trusted to woman. Therefore should she be 
 cultivated. Though it be not important that 
 she sing like Malibran, yet her gentle voice 
 heard in the soft song, at the sweet hour of twi- 
 light, not necessarily in a fashionable air, but 
 one to which all the feelings of the soul respond, 
 will throw a soothing charm over the wearied 
 spirit of a fond father. Then if the cheerful, 
 clear, and tastefully arranged apartment, pre- 
 sents the attraction of a well chosen book, 
 read in the clear and finely modulated tones of 
 
346 TASTE. 
 
 an educated woman, whose affectionate looks 
 and intellectual remarks give evidence of well 
 directed thought and kindest feeling, that man 
 must be wanting in some of the best emotions 
 his nature who could coldly cast away such 
 happiness. Oh would not the rescue of a be- 
 loved husband from the popular causes of ex- 
 citement that involve so many families in ruin, 
 making him as much a bankrupt in happiness 
 as in fortune, be worth this sacrifice, if it may 
 be called a sacrifice, of time in a wife ? Would 
 not the salvation of a dear brother from the in- 
 fluence of evil associates be worth the sacrifice 
 of the evening visit to a loving sister ? 
 
 True refinement of mind is always attended 
 with a perception and love of fitness and pro- 
 priety, as well as of beauty and sublimity. The 
 woman of delicate perception will in the first 
 place examine herself, and sooner detect her 
 own improprieties than those of her neighbour : 
 she knows them more certainly, they interest 
 her more nearly, and she has the power to rec- 
 tify them. Such a person will avoid rudeness 
 in her manners, indelicacy or coarseness in her 
 appearance. She will suit her dress to her cir- 
 cumstances, and no circumstance, either of hurry 
 or small means, will induce her to forego neat- 
 ness and agreeable arrangement; nor will wealth 
 or fashion oblige her to load her attire with or- 
 
TASTE. 347 
 
 nament, or draw her into what is ridiculous or 
 immodest. To a woman of good taste affecta- 
 tion is abhorrent, feeling, as she must, that it is 
 not only a species of falsehood, but that it ren- 
 ders one the object of ridicule and disgust. 
 Having an eye for beauty, she will discover the 
 beauty of actions and character as well as ma- 
 terial beauty ; hence in her judgment no action 
 of duty or kindness will be considered degra- 
 ding, but rather the omission of it. She would 
 blush at incivility to the poor or aged. In ad- 
 dressing a domestic or dependant, the tones of 
 her voice will acquire unwonted softness, and 
 instead of delivering commands, she seems to 
 solicit favours. Her parents are the objects of her 
 tenderest veneration : she would consider herself 
 wanting in self-respect did she not respect all 
 the feelings of her mother, or be unwilling to 
 share the labours devolving upon her. In her 
 manners and actions there is a uniform propri- 
 ety. To wound the feelings of a sister, or by 
 a sarcasm or slight, to give pain to any one, 
 would to her correct and delicate thoughts, seem 
 impossible. 
 
 Such is the woman whose associations are 
 correct, whose judgment is sound, whose ima- 
 gination is active and governed by reason. Her 
 moral sense will not suffer her, even though 
 wanting in spiritual piety, to join in a jest on 
 
348 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 
 the subject, which to her correct mind must ap- 
 pear of awful import — Religion. Such a wo- 
 man will pass through life honoured and loved. 
 Ah, how deplored, and how deplorable should 
 she at its close still be wanting in the " one thing 
 needful." 
 
 CHAPTER IE. 
 
 EMOTIONS CONNECTED WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 
 
 The mind, as I have endeavoured to explain 
 to you, is moved to action by various external 
 causes, operating upon its own nature. Let us 
 first consider the gentler emotions more im- 
 mediately concerned in the happiness of life. 
 These emotions though founded in our moral 
 and social nature, depend much upon the right 
 cultivation of the imagination, and the correct 
 association of our thoughts. Our moral sense 
 shews us the right, the true and the good in ac- 
 tion, and the imagination which sees the beau- 
 tiful immediately applies that quality to the 
 character which exhibits such actions. We 
 shall look at agreeableness or beauty mostly as 
 it regards our social state. 
 
 " The idea of the beautiful," says Cousin, 
 " is equally inherent in the mind as that of the 
 
WITH OJJR HAPPINESS. 349 
 
 useful and the just."* The ills of life are in- 
 numerable, and might render us perpetually 
 wretched ; even in circumstances of comfort, 
 the anticipation drawn from reason and expe- 
 * rience that suffering in some form or other will 
 be our lot, would cast a gloomy shade around 
 us, had we not a resource against this melan- 
 choly provided in our very nature. This re- 
 source is in the imagination which enables the 
 mind to extract delight from objects, as " bees 
 draw nectar from flowers," to seek out the beau- 
 tiful, and to look forward, not in despair of hap- 
 piness, but in the hope of some good yet unen- 
 joyed. This it is that awakens the soft emotions 
 of the heart, that throws a nameless attraction 
 over the objects around us, so that unless the 
 mind has within it the unnatural gloom of dis- 
 content, or is oppressed by some stronger emo- 
 tion, it will be drawn out in admiration or in 
 love towards the objects of its perceptions. In- 
 deed the charm is so strong that many are by 
 it fatally bound to the present world ; the great- 
 est afflictions and even the prospect of death, 
 have not the power to disengage them from the 
 attraction. 
 
 This delicate perception of our nature was 
 not bestowed that we might pervert it to our 
 undoing, but that through it we might be ren- 
 
 * His. of Philosophy. 
 
350 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 
 dered capable of enjoying the bounteous gifts 
 of the " Parent of Good," that we might be 
 more strongly attached to each other by the 
 sweet sympathies of life ; and be excited to 
 action in the attainment of desirable objects : 
 but above all, to enable us to look from this 
 world to a better, where beauty shall never be 
 marred by deformity, and sorrow never mingle 
 in the cup of joy. 
 
 The qualities in objects, either of art or na- 
 ture that give rise to pleasurable emotions, are 
 various. Colour and form, delicacy and bril- 
 liancy, simplicity and variety, lowliness and 
 elevation, order and fitness are all attractive, 
 and produce in the mind the simple emotions of 
 pleasure, calm and soothing. To be sensible 
 of this let us take a ramble at morning's sweetest 
 hour, in some sunny clime, where Art is hand- 
 maid to Nature. Our departing steps, as we 
 leave the mansion, echo along the marble pave- 
 ment of the spacious halls. We stop in trav- 
 ersing the inner courts to examine the gushing 
 fountains, the baths, and the large stone basins 
 supplied with the cool element so refreshing be- 
 neath the beams of the torrid sun. We pass 
 through the low arched and massy porch, al- 
 most concealed by draperies of white flowered 
 jasmine, while rare and beautiful exotics border 
 the path which leads to the ascending mountain. 
 
WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 351 
 
 Here in the garden which hangs upon its ac- 
 clivity, art appears in all the wildness and beauty 
 of nature. Large forest trees shade with their 
 thick branches a small transparent lake, and 
 the silvery fish sport in the clear water, sup- 
 plied from the streams that pour themselves in 
 tiny cataracts down the overhanging rocks. 
 Now we take our ascending way, assisted by 
 flights of steps that seem like moss-covered foot- 
 prints on the solid rock, winding our path through 
 groves of the yellow accacia, mingling their 
 branches with the pomegranate, covered with 
 its scarlet flowers ; while the morning breeze is 
 fragrant with the odours it gathers from the 
 orange, the lemon and the rich variety of blos- 
 soms, that are glittering with the dew-drops. 
 We reach the summit of the hill and repose in 
 a simple pavilion. Now the rising sun tinges 
 with gold the fleecy cloud that hangs over the 
 dark forests, crowning the top of the mountain, 
 and as the light strikes upon the buildings and 
 spires of the city which stands on its base, 
 the mind is filled and delighted with the objects 
 of its perceptions. 
 
 In the foregoing instance, beside the natural 
 beauty we perceive in the flowers and trees, in 
 the mountain, the ocean and the heavens, we 
 find ourselves affected by the ingenuity of the 
 mind, that upon the side of a common moun- 
 
352 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 
 tain, could form a sort of Paradise, making 
 rocks and streams where nature had not made 
 them. This is the creative power of imagina- 
 tion that we admire in painting and poetry. 
 This illustration, for the above description is 
 not a fancy sketch, affords us matter for further 
 remark. The design of the house and garden, 
 planned, as in truth it was, with reference to 
 comfort, convenience, and agreeableness, origi- 
 nated in some of the best feelings of our nature 
 — the desire of an affectionate husband to make 
 up to a cultivated woman, and exemplary wife 
 and mother, the sacrifices he feared she made 
 to her family, by devoting all her time and ac- 
 quirements to their service. The social affec- 
 tions were beautifully displayed in the family 
 circle, assembled at the calm hour when the 
 ocean reflected from a southern sky the last 
 rays of the departing sun. There, under the 
 shade of the most luxuriant foliage in the world, 
 was the fond father, with the little flock, made 
 orphans by the sudden death of her for whose 
 sake he had planned these beauties. Many 
 years since have passed, but association now 
 brings to remembrance the sad expression 
 of that intellectual face, the polished brow and 
 the dark eye, humid with feeling, as it followed 
 the bounding steps of frolic childhood. By his 
 side was seated the intelligent and pious sister, 
 
WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 353 
 
 who shared his cares and sorrows ; who when 
 recollection seemed too bitter would exclaim, 
 " patience, dear Brother, will soon overcome 
 all our trials ;" and with the sweetest smile 
 illuminating her countenance, would add, "and 
 see how good is God to leave us so many bles- 
 sings !■" 
 
 It is difficult in this place to refrain from 
 giving the exhibition of a character so full of 
 beauty in the midst of the most corrupting in- 
 fluence. This right-minded man, once seeing 
 on the table of a friend, a copy of the Holy 
 Scriptures, forbidden him by his religion, exam- 
 ined it attentively, expressing an ardent desire 
 to possess the whole of the Sacred Book in his 
 own language, of which he had only parts ; ex- 
 claiming as did Luther in similar circumstances, 
 "What would I not give for a complete Bible !" 
 
 The works of Nature please us because the 
 imagination in them discovers intrinsic beauty 
 — agreeableness in form and colour; they also 
 please from the associated qualities of skill in 
 the workmanship and design in the Creator. 
 The works of art afford us pleasure because 
 we perceive the beauty of imitation, with the 
 skill and design that display the power and per- 
 fection of the human mind. It is mind or soul 
 we seek every where ; sensual or stupid indeed 
 
 must he be who does not seek it : therefore does 
 23 
 
354 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 
 mental and moral beauty chiefly affect the in- 
 tellectual, spiritual soul. The human frame in 
 itself is the most finished piece of workmanship 
 in the material world. The beauty of its form, 
 the assemblage so lovely and delicate of lines 
 and colour in the face, draw forth ardent admi- 
 ration. But in this the mind is not satisfied, it 
 seeks the kindred spirit beaming through the 
 eye, and mantling in the eloquent blood upon 
 the cheek : it seeks the expression, not only in 
 the countenance, but in the conduct, of benevo- 
 lence, gentleness, meekness ; in feeling, it seeks 
 for affection and gratitude ; in character, for 
 truth, sincerity and justice. Where these qual- 
 ities are not discovered, the beauty of the fairest 
 form would not more affect the mind, perhaps 
 not as much, as the beauty of a statue, for in 
 this last, the mind would be satisfied and af- 
 fected with the skill of the artist. In the human 
 form it would expect a soul ; the disappoint- 
 ment seems like an injury, and in some instances 
 turns admiration to dislike. The affectation of 
 the beautiful qualities of mind and character is 
 quickly discovered, and produces an emotion 
 the reverse of sympathy and love : we turn 
 away disgusted and suspicious. 
 
 Says St. Pierre ; " to no purpose will a man 
 attempt to decorate his countenance with the 
 indications of good qualities to which his heart 
 
WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 355 
 
 is a stranger. This false beauty produces an 
 effect still more disgusting than the most deci- 
 ded ugliness ; for when attracted by apparent 
 goodness, we actually find dishonesty and per- 
 fidy, we are seized with horror, as when we find 
 a serpent in a bed of flowers." 
 
 The benevolence which forgets self in the 
 duties of kindness, that rejoices in the prosper- 
 ity of others, that forgives even the unkindness 
 of friends, that takes no knowledge of enemies 
 except in praying for them and doing them kind 
 offices ; in fine, the benevolence that rests upon 
 the precept, " Love thy neighbour as thy- 
 self," is moral beauty. Such was the beauty 
 exhibited in the character of our Saviour, and 
 such is the beauty that should adorn His fol- 
 lowers. It is the beauty, without which the 
 most symmetrical form, the most brilliant en- 
 dowments of genius, and the enthusiasm that 
 would remove mountains, is nothing. 
 
 The objects presented by the eye, affect, as 
 we have already perceived, the soul in a variety 
 of ways ; so do sounds conveyed to the mind 
 by the ear. There is within us a chord that 
 vibrates to melody and harmony as well as to 
 beauty, as strongly, perhaps more quickly and 
 more powerfully ; for sound seeming the more 
 immediate expression of the heart, affects the 
 sympathies more immediately: Nature is full 
 
356 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 
 of music. The breezes of the spring, the rip- 
 pling of the brooks loosened from their " icy 
 fetters," the first song of the bird, and the soft 
 bleating of the lamb, speak the praise of Him 
 who diffuses gladness through all His works. 
 The noise of the cataract, the blast of the hur- 
 ricane, the roar of the ocean, the peal of thun- 
 der, tell of His majesty and power, and while 
 they fill the mind with awe, call forth its deep 
 gratitude for preserving Goodness. 
 
 If the mind is formed to understand and feel 
 the language of the Almighty in the unintelli- 
 gent creation, it is also endowed with the ability 
 of understanding and feeling the thoughts and 
 emotions, which by the voice are communicated 
 from kindred minds. Language, the natural 
 expression of the immaterial thought, connects 
 in a state of brotherhood the whole human fam- 
 ily. One great mind communicates its know- 
 ledge and experience to others : thus did the 
 wisdom of Egypt pass into Greece ; Greece in 
 turn gave its knowledge, its poetry and its elo- 
 quence to Rome, and thought, an ever-rolling 
 stream, encreasing as it flows, now pours all the 
 treasured wisdom of time, past and present, 
 at our feet. But the greatest blessing bestowed 
 through language is the Divine Word, pro- 
 claimed first by the audible Voice, then upon 
 the inspired page. This, from the time it an- 
 
WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 357 
 
 nounced salvation through the " seed of the 
 woman," for more than five thousand ages, has 
 carried consolation and joy, to the broken 
 hearted, of every clime, of every name and 
 degree ; and until the sound of the Trumpet 
 awakes the dead and proclaims the end of time, 
 it will not cease to fill the soul with transporting 
 emotion. 
 
 Music, aided by song, has in all ages, been 
 used to enlighten, to soften and to refine ; even 
 the untamed savage of the desert feels their 
 united influence. The association of ideas with 
 the melody of sounds has helped to fasten the 
 most sterile truths upon the memory, and thus 
 has knowledge, which at first had no other 
 record, been transmitted from age to age. The 
 songs of the poet, and the eloquence of the 
 philosopher drew men together in social assem- 
 blages, and united them by some of the sympa- 
 thies which they afterwards found strengthened 
 and purified by the Gospel of peace. Pytha- 
 goras, one of the most ancient among heathen 
 philosophers, thought so highly of the effect of 
 music in correcting the fiercer passions, that he 
 used with his disciples two kinds, one in the 
 morning to awaken the mind, the other in the 
 evening to restore it after the fatigues of the 
 day- How profitable to us, even at this en- 
 lightened period, might be such a use of music. 
 
358 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 
 The hymn of praise and self-dedication, raised 
 at morning devotion, by united voices at the 
 family altar, might give a tone of activity to the 
 business and duties of the day ; and when its 
 cares and labours have nearly exhausted the 
 wearied frame, how sweetly would the evening 
 song refresh the sinking spirit. 
 
 Music has the power of moving the heart to 
 the most exalted emotions. It was the touching 
 voice and charming songs of the young Luther, 
 who thus sought of a hard public the bread that 
 supported him while he devoted his childhood 
 to study, that moved the noble lady, Ursula 
 Cotta, when the poor boy, despairing and starv- 
 ing, was about to return to the forge of his father, 
 to provide that support which enabled the fu- 
 ture Reformer to prosecute the studies that were 
 blessed in restoring the light of Truth to Chris- 
 tendom. It was the power of music and poetry 
 that stirred up the ardent mind of the young 
 Hans Sachs, at the commencement of this pe- 
 riod, to holy enthusiasm ; and it was his music 
 and poetry that then filled the minds of his 
 countrymen with strong emotions of indigna- 
 tion, as he passed through the cities of Ger- 
 many, exposing, in song, the overwhelming 
 abominations of Popery. Then, as the Ref- 
 ormation burst upon the world, Sachs found in 
 his Bible, a constant theme for his hymns and 
 
WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 359 
 
 sacred songs, which he set to the sweetest mu- 
 sic. They rapidly spread through cities, vil- 
 lages and hamlets, and to Hans Sachs, the poet 
 and musician, was ascribed the honour of greatly 
 promoting the cause of liberty and religious 
 truth.* 
 
 If music addresses itself so powerfully to the 
 best feelings of the soul, pity it is, that among 
 us, it seems not yet to have attained its holy in- 
 fluence. In searching for the cause, shall we not 
 find it in the fact, that it is too much addressed 
 to the senses, too much intended for display, 
 too much under the influence of fashion ? Music 
 is mostly used where persons of variety of taste 
 and age assemble, some for conversation, others 
 for amusement. Here the hum of other voices 
 makes discord, and draws away the attention 
 from the best performance of the most exquisite 
 melody. To many, it is even an annoyance, for 
 with some degree of taste, the mind is not in 
 tune for it ; perhaps is deeply absorbed in an 
 interesting topic of conversation. Besides, the 
 performer is often a delicate, timid and young 
 girl, who without any special love for the art, 
 has been taught it as an accomplishment, which 
 would inevitably procure her admiration, and 
 she rises after an agonizing performance, almost 
 in tears of mortification, sensible as she is, in 
 
 * His. of the Reformation, from Merle D'Ambigoe. 
 
360 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 
 the profusion of the compliments she receives, 
 that the cessation of the music is a relief to 
 many of the company. 
 
 Let not the power of communicating the gen- 
 tlest, the most delicate, as well as the most ele- 
 vated feelings of the soul, in sounds that are 
 given to the human voice to awaken reciprocal 
 emotions, be offered up a sacrifice at the shrine 
 of vanity or custom. Let it be used as a sweet- 
 ening engredient in the cup of life. Where 
 friends meet in social intercourse, there let the 
 spirit-stirring harmony or sweet song afford a 
 delightful variety to the soft communion. When 
 the toils of the day are over, and the fond father 
 reposes in the smiles that cheer his heart, then 
 let the choice piece of music be selected, the 
 song, or the hymn. Surely the unison of voice 
 and heart will make sweeter melody to the soul, 
 than the most brilliant performance where they 
 are not : and will afford more gratification to a 
 cultivated and delicate woman than the loudest 
 applauses. 
 
 But above all, in the Sanctuary should the 
 finest melody of the voice be offered to the God 
 of our salvation. " Let those refuse to sing who 
 never knew the Lord," but let not the professor 
 of the religion of Jesus Christ, though elevated 
 in station and cultivated in taste, refuse to join 
 the accents of her voice to the humblest lay 
 
WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 361 
 
 ever offered to her Saviour. Such a theme 
 must awaken the emotions of the grateful, pious 
 bosom, must open a sweet communion with 
 kindred souls, be they ever so lowly ; must 
 lead the mind, through its associating power, 
 to that glorious assembly which never breaks 
 up, that in harmonious and sweet accords, strike 
 their golden harps to His praise, who redeemed 
 them by His own blood. 
 
 How strong are the emotions that arise from 
 the various ties by which men are bound to each 
 other in the social relations. There is within 
 us, unless we discard the promptings of our 
 moral nature, a feeling, which forbids us to cast 
 off from our sympathies, even the poor savage of 
 the wilderness, or the slave degraded by bond- 
 age. They are brethren, and pity, for their 
 condition will rise in the bosom ; the oppressed, 
 the afflicted, and the ignorant in all lands, under 
 whatever form of suffering, will meet compas- 
 sion, and claim benevolence. Unhappy indeed 
 would it be for the human family if these feel- 
 ings were not among the strongest and most de- 
 lightful of the emotions. Howard, even in his 
 boyhood was remarkable for his benevolence ; 
 as his mind matured he exhibited a refinement 
 of taste, and a delight in the social ties of kindred 
 and of friendship. But his pious soul flowed 
 out in pity, most of all for those, who seemed 
 
362 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 
 cut off from the common charities of men, 
 as well by removal from their sight, being 
 shut up in prisons, as by the degradation of 
 their crimes. But the benevolent Howard dis- 
 dained them not ; for them he sacrificed his own 
 pleasant home, traversed the fertile plains of 
 Europe and the desolate regions of Asia, and 
 scarce knew repose ; but he sent joy to the heart 
 of the sufferer, he procured comfortable rest for 
 the aching limbs of the prisoner ; he provided 
 food for his hunger, medicine for his diseased 
 body, and the Bread of Life for his perishing 
 soul. The benevolent feelings of this extraor- 
 dinary man, prompting to such actions, were to 
 him a spring of constant delight. " I hope, said 
 he, I have sources of enjoyment that depend not 
 on the particular spot I inhabit ; a richly culti- 
 vated mind, under the power of religion and the 
 exertion of benevolent dispositions, is a ground 
 of satisfaction little affected by here and there"* 
 
 The friendship that draws individuals to each 
 other, gives a charm to life, refining to the mind ; 
 softening the asperities of character, subduing 
 its selfishness, and often prompting to the noble 
 efforts that result from the union of kindred 
 minds directed to the same object. This senti- 
 ment, providing pleasures out of the family re- 
 lation, which some, from the adverse circum. 
 
 * Memoirs of John Howard. 
 
WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 363 
 
 stances of life, never enjoy, and which a promis- 
 cuous intercourse with the world cannot bestow, 
 seems a most beneficial dispensation of Provi- 
 dence. Our nature, social in its emotions and 
 prompted by moral sense to attach itself to vir- 
 tuous objects, is also provided against the de- 
 ception practised upon it by sensual feelings. 
 Irrational are they, and often bitterly deceived, 
 who refuse to listen, in this instance, to the ad- 
 monitions of this internal prompter. 
 
 •The ties of natural relationship are those that 
 give rise to some of the strongest emotions of 
 which human nature is susceptible. In a world 
 rendered selfish by sin, it would seem, as if the 
 bountiful Dispenser of Good, in commiseration 
 for the condition of creatures, left as individ- 
 uals, often helpless and suffering, to the benev- 
 olence of corrupt nature, instituted a connexion, 
 by which a number should be bound in such 
 close relation, that an injury offered to one would 
 affect the others. Here, the interest or good of 
 one is bound up in that of many, and one tide 
 of feeling appears to circulate among parents, 
 brothers, and sisters, as the current of life flow- 
 ing through the heart, circulates to the most re- 
 mote member of the body : all compose but one 
 frame, which 1 suffers or enjoys with every part. 
 In the family relation the feebler members look 
 for sustenance to the same provident care, they 
 
364 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 
 obey the same affectionate law emanating from 
 the head they call father ; and he feels for those 
 whose existence is drawn from his, the same 
 equal love. This love prompts to labours un- 
 remitting, sometimes beyond his strength, for 
 the maintenance and welfare of his offspring. 
 
 And she whom they call mother, from whom 
 they have drawn the same stream of life, upon 
 whose bosom they have all reposed in gentle 
 slumber, how dear is she. What would not 
 the affectionate child in the strength of his love 
 do for either parent f It is related of a young- 
 man called Couchoux, that, during the reign of 
 terror in France, being confined, with his aged 
 father in a place called the cave of death, await- 
 ing with many others the hour of execution, 
 very perilous means of escape were offered ; but 
 young Couchoux refused to fly unless his father 
 who was eighty years of age, and lame, would 
 accompany him. " Go, said the old man, I 
 command it, but it is impossible for me to go 
 with thee." The entreaties of the son pre- 
 vailed, and the father dragged his swollen limbs 
 a little way and stopped. The son, though low 
 of stature, and not strong, took him in his arms, 
 the desire of saving his father gave him strength, 
 and he carried him to the top of the stairs. His 
 affection was rewarded ; they were saved.* 
 
 * Three years residence in France. 
 
WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 365 
 
 Lucretia Davidson, as much esteemed for 
 her genius and virtue as lamented in her early 
 death, received, at the age of thirteen, a twenty 
 dollar note, from an English gentleman who 
 had read some of her poetical pieces. Her 
 father, to whom it was enclosed, in giving it to 
 her, told her to regard it as the first fruit of her 
 poetical merit. Lucretia, in eager simplicity 
 took the note, saying, " Oh Papa, how many 
 books it will buy." She knew no want but that 
 of books. Then casting her eyes to the bed 
 where her mother lay sick and suffering, her 
 radiant face altered, and she added, " Oh, no, 
 no, I cannot spend it ; take it, Papa, I do not 
 want it, take it and buy something for Mama."* 
 Thus does nature, by the strong emotion of af- 
 fection in the child, provide for the necessities 
 and helplessness of age in the parent. 
 
 But no human affection can compare with 
 that of the mother. The brute is fond and even 
 fierce in her love, but when her offspring no 
 longer need her care, this love so entirely ceases 
 that she even knows them no longer. Not so 
 with Woman. The little one nourished in her 
 bosom has an existence immortal as her own, 
 and while the vital fluid circulates in her heart, 
 her care and love for it never ceases. Over the 
 infant couch her cheek gathers paleness : cease- 
 
 * Sparks' American Biography. 
 
366 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 
 less are her watchings, lest even the " winds of 
 heaven should visit too roughly" the form she 
 loves so well. In its sickness, her delicate frame 
 nerves itself with more than masculine strength ; 
 and when her child is in danger* she is a very- 
 heroine. At the siege of Ancona, during the 
 horrible sufferings of the inhabitants from fam- 
 ine, a woman, heart-broken by the exhaustion 
 of her two sons, opened a vein in her arm, and 
 having prepared and disguised the blood that 
 flowed from it with the spices that remained in 
 abundance in the city, she set this beverage 
 before her children ; thus prolonging their 
 existence by the current that supported her 
 own.* 
 
 Is it not in the strong, undying emotions of 
 the mother's heart that God has provided for 
 the life of helpless infancy, for the instruction 
 of inexperienced youth, for the restraint of im- 
 passioned manhood ? may it not be said, for the 
 salvation of the immortal spirit ? Few are so 
 disobedient as to resist a mother's injunctions in 
 youth, or so abandoned as to contemn her tears 
 and pleadings in manhoo'd ; even when her 
 voice is hushed in death her own unquenchable 
 love finds a response in the bosom of her son. 
 In his course of sinful pleasure, the silent hour 
 of night brings back the soft reproach upon that 
 
 * Venitian History. 
 
WITH 0U£ HAPPINESS. 367 
 
 loving, sorrowful face ; he feels again the kiss of 
 affection, as in childhood he felt it on his cheek, 
 and upon his brow the gentle hand that rested 
 there, when his infant prayer ascended at his 
 mother's knee. Now, does the Holy Spirit strive 
 with the soul that has so long been given to sin, 
 and the prayer of a mother descends with bles- 
 sings upon his head. 
 
 Wonderful nature is ours ! No less fitted by 
 the intellect for the attainment and use of all 
 necessary knowledge, but by our emotions for 
 all the joys that mind is capable of containing ; 
 eminently qualified to enjoy all the pleasures 
 that our connection with material objects and 
 with beings like ourselves can give, yet strange 
 to say, " man never is, but always to be blest." 
 All press onward to some good yet unenjoyed ; 
 seek some mine of knowledge which intellect 
 has as yet left unexplored ; some invention that 
 will add value to human existence. Thus, into 
 the future, with the glass of imagination, does 
 the mind delight to look ; tracing its own des- 
 tiny, and weaving a circlet of future glory, with 
 which to crown the efforts of future labours. 
 This anticipation, this hope of something yet 
 to come, independent of the joys it procures, is 
 the stimulus that gives activity to thought, as 
 well as to feeling. This reaching to something 
 beyond, keeps the mind in action, that without 
 
368 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 
 
 such a perspective might sink into the indolence 
 ever produced by satiety. 
 
 Hope when confined to this life often ends in 
 disappointment, and joy in bitter sorrow. The 
 inquietude, the dissatisfaction we experience in 
 present enjoyment, and the inextinguishable 
 thirst for other joys, show a nature not intended 
 wholly for the present existence ; the hope that 
 ever reaches to something beyond, proves its 
 high origin, and immortal destiny. But even 
 here, there is a joy upon which the soul may 
 quietly rest in hope of better things, it is the 
 joy of salvation. May this joy, which fully sat- 
 isfies all the powers of the soul, being all that 
 the imagination can conceive of bliss, and in 
 perfect accordance with our rational, social and 
 moral nature, be ours. Thus fastening our 
 hopes upon the skies, 
 
 " We bid earth roll, oor feel the idle whirl." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 
 
 As our subject has already extended beyond 
 the prescribed limits, I shall, my young friends, 
 be constrained to take a rapid glance at the re- 
 maining topics, as we proceed to the conclusion. 
 Let us now consider the emotions caused by the 
 
EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 369 
 
 deeper exercise of the imagination, as well as 
 of the other intellectual powers ; more espe- 
 cially those called the moral sublime. 
 
 As the imagination is capable of perceiving 
 the beautiful and delicate qualities in objects, 
 and thus extracts happiness from the flower of 
 the field, the hues of heaven, the song of the 
 bird ; so also does it perceive the greatness and 
 magnificence of creation, and finds in the im- 
 mensity of space, filled with myriads of worlds, 
 a source of wonder that overwhelms the mind 
 with awe. The element that encircles our 
 globe, the swiftness of motion, the dreadful 
 volcano, and the more terrific thunder-bolt, mark 
 a Hand Omnipotent. There are doubtless mo- 
 ments when the most sceptical mind is deeply 
 affected with fear of some Great Power, and is 
 ready to build an altar to the Unknown God ; 
 while the Christian can lift a smiling eye to the 
 tempest, and feel it disarmed of terror by a 
 Father's love. 
 
 The emotion caused by the combined opera- 
 tion of the intellectual powers is also most in- 
 teresting ; this, in its highest exercise maybe 
 called Genius. Who is not sensible of the de- 
 lights or miseries attendant on the remembrance 
 of pleasing or painful events, and in the exer- 
 cise of the powers of association and imagina- 
 tion, so connects the present with the past, as to 
 24 
 
370 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 
 
 suffer again some by-gone sorrow with inten- 
 sity almost beyond endurance, or enjoys some 
 anticipated good with a delight far beyond that 
 found in the reality of its possession ? 
 
 From the shore of his exile, the homeless 
 wanderer glances to the dear abode of youth. 
 His mother in the tenderness of her love, his 
 father in the manliness of his affection, sisters, 
 fond and gentle, brothers, companions of his in- 
 fantile sports and youthful employments, rise 
 before him. Tears flow from his eyes, and 
 uncontrolable desires to see and once more em- 
 brace these dear ones, take possession of his 
 soul. Association now comes in to stir up the 
 deeper feelings of the heart. These remem- 
 brances are so made up of images connected 
 with home and friends ; the endearing inter- 
 course of the family circle, the sweet strains of 
 the evening hymn, and the parental prayer, 
 that they swell the bosom of the exile almost to 
 bursting. 
 
 The objects of imagination become realities 
 to the mind, and hence the pleasure derived from 
 fiction. A lady observed upon reading Stew- 
 art's Journal to the Sandwich Islands, that her 
 acquaintance with the sailors became so inti- 
 mate that at the arrival of the ship she could 
 not part with them. In the writer of fiction the 
 emotion is still more powerful. The creation 
 
EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 371 
 
 of his imagination is the world in which he lives ; 
 peopled with beings whom he admires, loves, 
 and pities ; over whose crimes he often casts a 
 mantle of ideal virtue, presenting to his readers 
 " the poison of Circe in a crystal goblet." Such 
 authors often depict the virtue they do not feel, 
 and while they live in defiance of all the laws 
 of humanity, they eloquently paint, and in ima- 
 gination pity, the sufferings they themselves oc- 
 casion. Sterne, who knew so well how to touch 
 the feelings with his pen, gained the affection of 
 a lady and deserted her. His perfidy so affected 
 her that she lost her reason, and was confined 
 to a mad-house. Sterne, without accusing him- 
 self, wrote an effecting picture of the madness 
 he had occasioned. The poet, and even the phi- 
 losopher, who has the art of clothing his thoughts 
 with beauty, and can give to his sophistry the 
 appearance of truth, making good evil, and evil 
 good, works himself into the feelings, and car- 
 ries away, through the strength of emotion, mul- 
 titudes, who follow because some master spirit 
 leads them. " The error that emanates from 
 minds of high order, penetrates even to the lowly 
 cottage, and like the gales of the south, laden 
 with perfume, breathes pestilence and death." 
 
 Let us now turn to that enthusiasm which in- 
 spires minds of high order to daring, and even per- 
 ilous enterprises. Originating in reason which 
 
372 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 
 
 gives the perception of some important truth, it 
 carries all the powers of thought to one point, 
 which in spite of ridicule and opposition it never 
 abandons. In due time this truth is established ; 
 and great is stamped upon the name of him who 
 thus dared to depart from common opinion. It 
 was this enthusiasm that inspired Galileo, and 
 made him persist in the investigation and asser- 
 tion of the laws of nature, in opposition to a corrupt 
 philosophy. Obliged to resign his professorship, 
 denounced as a heretic and imprisoned in the 
 inquisition, because he asserted the true motion 
 of the earth, he was forced at length to pro- 
 nounce, in the presence of an assembly of monks, 
 kneeling upon the Gospels, an abjuration of the 
 great truth he had maintained. Rising from 
 this posture, and filled with indignation at hav- 
 ing been compelled to swear contrary to his 
 conviction, he exclaimed, stamping with his 
 foot, " Still it moves ;" and went back to the 
 dungeon of the inquisition.* Christopher Co- 
 lumbus, from the time he conceived the exist- 
 ence of a new world, seemed impelled by an 
 irresistible desire to go in search of it. No obsta- 
 cles cooled his ardour and when rejected by one 
 court he applied to another. Thus did he pass 
 eighteen years in solicitation, amid poverty, 
 neglect and ridicule; and when at length, in the 
 * Encyclopedia Americana. 
 
EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 373 
 
 decline of his life, he obtained two small ves- 
 sels, and discovered after a voyage full of dan- 
 ger, the laud he sought, can we wonder that he 
 should kiss the precious soil and in tears of joy 
 return thanks to God. Genius is a nwstery in 
 our nature, which we shall probably never un- 
 derstand ; it is accompanied by the strong emo- 
 tions described in the above cases, it seems the 
 gift of the Creator to a few, doubtless intended 
 for the benefit of the many. 
 
 This quality of mind prompting to great en- 
 terprise, accompanied with decision and perse- 
 verance, affects other minds with the emotions 
 of admiration and reverence. There is a sub- 
 limity in such a character that to some gives the 
 impression of inspiration. Hence the empire 
 they obtain over others. " Strike," said Them- 
 istocles to his rival, whose hand was for this 
 purpose raised over the Athenian General, " but 
 first hear me." The hostile arm fell powerless 
 before the patriot who feared not insult when 
 the danger of his country called for his prompt 
 advice. Luther in the power of his enemies 
 at Augsburg, was asked by the Italian Serra 
 Longa, "Forsaken by all, where wilt thou find 
 refuge f" " In God," said Luther, lifting an 
 eye of faith. The Italian courtier was silent. 
 John Hedinguer, chaplain and spiritual guide to 
 the reigning Duke of Wirtemberg, was fearless 
 
374 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 
 
 in the discharge of his duty, and bold in speaking 
 the truth. The Duke had consented, through 
 the solicitations of a lady, to set out on a party 
 of pleasure one Sunday before divine service. 
 His way lay by the church. Herdinguer came 
 out at the instant, placed himself directly before 
 the prince's equipage, and called to mind his 
 culpability both towards God by the profanation 
 of the Sabbath, and towards his subjects in so 
 pernicious an example. In vain the Duke re- 
 garded him with a sombre countenance. Her- 
 dinguer remained before the horses, and said, 
 " If your highness desires to shed the blood of 
 one of his chaplains, he has only to continue his 
 ride ; I have no fear of death." The prince, 
 conscience-stricken and awed, commanded his 
 horses' heads to be turned, and went to church. 
 There is a moral grandeur in assuming diffi- 
 cult duties with fortitude, especially if painful 
 to the feelings, that affects the mind with the 
 emotion of sublimity. Of this kind of fortitude 
 we find many examples among women. Che- 
 lonidis was wife of Cleombrotes, and daughter 
 of Leonidus, king of Sparta. For some polit- 
 ical reason the king was banished by his sub* 
 jects and Cleombrotus placed upon the throne. 
 The affectionate daughter leaving her royal 
 state, followed her father to his exile. Leon- 
 idus being recalled from banishment and rein- 
 
EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 375 
 
 stated, resolved upon the exile of his son-in- 
 law, while his daughter in vain plead at his feet 
 for her husband. The king who loved her 
 fondly, conjured her to remain with him and 
 share the splendours of royalty. But Chelon- 
 idis seeing her unfortunate husband about to 
 depart, rose from her suppliant posture, and 
 placing one of her children in the arms of Cle- 
 ombrotus, took the other in her own and went 
 with him into voluntary banishment. 
 
 Ptolemy, king of Egypt demanded of Cle- 
 omenes the Spartan king, his aged mother as a 
 hostage, for the succors he sent to his country. 
 Cleomenes concealed the distressing proposal 
 from his parent, but she read it in his looks. 
 " How, my son," said she, " is this the secret 
 you had not courage to disclose . ? Send me I 
 pray where my person can yet be of use to 
 Sparta." Tenderly embracing her son, who 
 wept with excess of anguish at parting, she 
 said, " King of Sparta, let us dry up our tears, 
 for this is in our power ; events are in the hands 
 of God." 
 
 In these instances we see even in heathen, 
 the force of reason and the strength of affection 
 in the female bosom ; now let us see what faith 
 in God can do. Here we have that aged Jew- 
 ish mother called to witness the martyrdom of 
 seven sons. During their cruel torments she 
 
376 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 
 
 exhorted them to remember that their present 
 sufferings were short, and future glory eternal. 
 How deep was her anxiety lest the youngest 
 should shrink back affrighted and fail to give 
 glory to the God of his fathers. Having seen 
 them all surfer as faithful witnesses for the truth, 
 she went joyfully to the death, prepared, last of 
 all, for her. See also the undaunted women 
 who forsook not their Master in the hour of His 
 suffering. They stood at the cross, amid the 
 scoffs of an insulting rabble. Doubtless they 
 strove by looks of love to impart to Him what 
 they could of comfort. They regarded. neither 
 the soldier or the priest ; one object — their Di- 
 vine and suffering Lord absorbed every feeling ; 
 shame and fear, which operated on the minds 
 of the disciples, by them were entirely discarded. 
 Think not, I pray you, that the exalted Queen, 
 esteemed the greatest sovereign that ever sat 
 upon the British throne, was great when com- 
 pared with the humble Christian. The death- 
 bed, that detector of the heart, that test of char- 
 acter, found her strong mind sunk into imbe- 
 cility ; an earthly sceptre seemed too great a 
 prize to yield up at the bidding of the King of 
 kings. Like the caged lioness she was re- 
 strained by superior force. She resigned not up 
 her power, it was wrested away by death.* Not 
 * D'Israeli. 
 
EMOTIONS . CONTINUED. 377 
 
 such the Christian woman under the influence 
 of the most exalted emotion of the human mind 
 — faith in the. Lord Jesus Christ. By nature 
 weak and timorous ; by grace strong and cour- 
 ageous. With her eye fixed on the glory be- 
 fore which all other glory is dim, she is supe- 
 rior to the vanity, the envy and jealousy that 
 deform the fairest face : she is calm in the midst 
 of trials, which are the more vexatious, because 
 of their seeming insignificance. Patience, hu- 
 mility, and perseverance in active duty, are 
 her adorning virtues ; and in their constant ex- 
 ercise, she approaches the dark valley and 
 shadow of death, which she fears not, for she 
 knows that her Redeemer lives. The last mes- 
 senger calls her in the midst of cares and la- 
 bours from those who are dear as her own life. 
 Friends weep, but the joy that swells angelic 
 bosoms has already entered her heart. Her 
 labour is ended ; some words of counsel, the 
 last embrace, the last prayer, and the song of 
 praise begins. 
 
 Truly sublime is the character of the Chris- 
 tian Hero. The purest, the most elevated emo- 
 tions fill. his soul. What but Divine communion 
 could have made Washington the first in war, 
 the first in peace, the first in the hearts of his 
 countrymen ? In the retired grove and the 
 lonely cave he called upon the God who rights 
 
378 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 
 
 the cause of the oppressed, to purify the mo- 
 tives of his honoured instrument. He sought 
 wisdom of the Mighty Counsellor, and the peace 
 which passeth understanding, from the Prince 
 of peace. And while he offered his blood in 
 the salvation of his country, with faith unfeigned 
 and piety unobtrusive, he looked for his own 
 salvation to the blood which cleanseth from all 
 sin. How does the glory of Alexander and of 
 Cyrus, of Caesar and of Napoleon, wane in the 
 splendour of the halo that encircles our Wash- 
 ington ! 
 
 The truly great seek not applause, they seek 
 to deserve it ; they look not at the fading hon- 
 ours of time j they rest not in the hope of ima- 
 ginary distinction here, but by faith they see a 
 brighter reward, and with noble ambition aspire 
 to the welcome of well done, good and faith- 
 ful servant, enter into the joys of your Lord. 
 Such are the feelings and hopes of the men, 
 who, forsaking the joys of the social home, the 
 loving light of a mother's eye, the companion- 
 ship of natural ties, go to spread the truth of the 
 Gospel and proclaim the joys of salvation, to 
 the dark and perishing heathen. Such men 
 were Swartz and Martyn ; such are multitudes 
 who count not their lives dear unto them that 
 they may win souls to Christ. Such men de- 
 sire, as said a beloved Missionary, " to recog- 
 
EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 379 
 
 nize God in every thing even in the events which 
 thwart us — to sit alone and keep silent under 
 the severest trials — willing to endure all with- 
 out society or sympathy, or even notice — to 
 suffer undeserved injury without retaliation, and 
 censure without justification — to bear all, serve 
 all, love all."* Such men live in the exercise 
 of the most sublime of all emotions — faith in 
 Christ ; of •' such men the world is not worthy." 
 
 * Letter from Rev. David Abeel. 
 

PART TV. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE, 
 
 The intellect has a perception of the beau- 
 tiful as well as of the true ; the first belongs to 
 the imagination, the second to reason. Here is 
 the foundation of Taste. But reason also ex- 
 hibits truth out of the reach of sense. Wher- 
 ever there is existence it proclaims Cause; and 
 further that in the production of minds such as 
 ours, there must be an Intelligence infinitely 
 surpassing all that we find elevated and glorious 
 in humanity. That to this First Great Cause 
 is due, not only all the efforts that can be made 
 by the human mind, but also all the love of 
 which the soul is capable, reason would teach. 
 Reason goes no further than the declaration of 
 necessary truth, it is the province of feeling to 
 embrace and act upon it. There is in the mind 
 an inherent love of beauty and other pleasing 
 qualities in objects ; there is also an inherent 
 love of truth, justice and benevolence. To the 
 perception and love of the beautiful is addressed 
 
3S2 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 
 
 whatever belongs to the works of taste — poetry, 
 eloquence, painting and the other fine arts ; to 
 the approbation of virtue is addressed whatever 
 belongs to duty or moral science. The mind 
 turns with a sort of repugnance from the false, 
 unjust and cruel person, while the contrary c lar- 
 acter is esteemed and beloved. 
 
 In all ages and among all nations, this has 
 been the general sentiment of mankind, except 
 where men have become brutalized by the ani- 
 mal propensities, or cruel through the prejudices 
 of false judgment and custom. It is related of 
 Xenocrates, the philosopher, that being called 
 to give testimony in a court of Athens, he ad- 
 vanced to the altar to confirm it by the custom- 
 ary oath. The judges blushed, and with one 
 accord opposed the action, thus rendering hom- 
 age to the probity of so respectable a witness. 
 Themistocles proposed to the Athenians to com- 
 municate to some chosen person, a design, but 
 with profound secrecy, that would be to the ad- 
 vantage of the nation. Aristides, the most 
 equitable of the citizens was deputed to hear it. 
 The design was to burn the fleet of the Lace- 
 demonians, their rival neighbours, then at peace 
 with them. "Nothing," said Aristides, to the 
 Athenians, after hearing the proposition, "could 
 be more advantageous to us, but nothing can be 
 more unjust." Without any other information, 
 
 
MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 383 
 
 the people unanimously rejected the proposal. 
 This is the moral sense of man, founded in his 
 reason, and belongs in a greater or less degree 
 to every rational creature. Man as a social and 
 moral being, must be provided with a sense, 
 whereby he may discover the duties to be per- 
 formed in these relations. We cannot at pre- 
 sent carry out these illustrations, and even hope 
 it to be unnecessary, notwithstanding the rea- 
 sonings that may pre-occupy any of your minds, 
 founded upon the case imagined by Dr. Paley, 
 of the wild boy, who would not be able to de- 
 cide whether the murder of a father was a right 
 or a wrong action. You will see also, that this 
 same wild boy, were he taken to the exhibition 
 of West's Christ Rejected, would be unable to 
 judge whether it were well or ill done. Be- 
 sides, where nations or even individuals " change 
 the truth of God into a lie, and worship and 
 serve the creature more than the Creator," they 
 are given up to " vile affections," and become 
 " haters of God, disobedient to parents, without 
 understanding, covenant breakers, without nat- 
 ural affection, implacable, unmerciful." Hence, 
 the reason found in Revelation, why whole na- 
 tions seem destitute of moral sense ; this reason 
 is probably nearer the truth in the case of indi- 
 viduals remarkable for crime, than a deficiency 
 in the organ of Conscientiousness. 
 
384 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 
 
 In the Word of Revelation we have man de- 
 picted as he came from the hands of his 1 Crea- 
 tor ; we discern the original faculties of mind 
 in the perfection of his nature, and view him 
 as the deforming influence of sin defaces and 
 blackens the fair soul that was formed in the 
 image of the Infinitely Hofy. " And God said, 
 Let us make man after our image, in our like- 
 ness, and let them have dominion." Gen. 1. 26. 
 In what did this likeness to God consist? In 
 the first place, in Reason, whereby man might 
 know and understand his relations to God, 
 and might acquire the knowledge that would 
 give him dominion or power, not only over all 
 other creatures upon the earth, but would en- 
 able him to turn to his advantage every part of 
 the creation. In the second place, in Love, 
 whereby he looked with approbation upon the 
 works of his Creator, who had pronounced them 
 good, and adoring the wisdom and goodness of 
 the Almighty Father, he joyfully received the 
 companion given to participate in his happiness. 
 His reason taught him that the prohibition, 
 " Thou shall not eat of it," was right in the 
 Sovereign of all things ; his love to the Father 
 of his being, gave him perfect acquiescence in 
 His will which he saw was good. Reason and 
 love seem to be the foundation of our moral 
 nature. Man in his sinless state must have been 
 
MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 385 
 
 ignorant of evil, its knowledge was forbidden ; 
 this was his innocence. The prohibition to ac- 
 quire this knowledge was before him, it was ad- 
 dressed to some power of his mind that could 
 understand and feel it ; this was his sense and 
 love of right. When our first Parents fell under 
 the temptation offered to their sensual nature, 
 their eyes were opened, and they were covered 
 with shame. What was this perception, here 
 mentioned as the opening of the eyes ? It was 
 the moral sense that showed to them their guilt, 
 in disobeying the Divine command ; they knew 
 evil, — innocence was gone. But when the voice 
 of the Lord God was heard in the garden, the con- 
 sciousness of sin caused them to hide themselves ; 
 they were afraid. Here Conscience, in view of 
 the penalty pronounced against the act of diso- 
 bedience, commenced its terrible operations and 
 filled them with remorse. 
 
 It is important to make a distinction between 
 the terms, moral sense and conscience. Moral 
 sense, as has just been explained, is the inhe- 
 rent love or approbation of what is right, the 
 disapprobation of what is wrong. It looks at 
 moral truth in the abstract, it approves of truth, 
 justice and benevolence in the character of 
 God ; and is founded in reason which teaches 
 that truth, justice and benevolence must be 
 
 eternally right. Reason declares this a neces- 
 25 
 
386 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 
 
 sary truth ; moral feeling delights in it, not only 
 because it is right and beautiful, but because in 
 the exercise of virtue alone, can rational, moral 
 beings enjoy communion with each other ; it is 
 the foundation of rational and social happiness. 
 Conscience takes its rise in our moral nature ; 
 it is the lamp in the bosom, whereby each indi- 
 vidual discovers his own aberrations from duty. 
 No man by his conscience judges of his neigh- 
 bour, any more than by his consciousness he 
 tells what are the thoughts and feelings that 
 pass through the mind of another. 
 
 Consciousness is the perception the mind has 
 of its own operations, and is not at all concerned 
 in the operations or feelings of other minds. It 
 is the internal testimony of the intelligence, and 
 assures the rational being that he has within, a 
 a thinking, feeling, active principle — the soul, 
 connected with the external world. The act- 
 ings of Conscience are analogous ; every one 
 has a conscience for himself, which takes no 
 cognizance of the actions or motives of any 
 other ; it is the internal testimony of his moral 
 nature, and shows to the rational soul its ac- 
 countability, thus assuring it of a state of exist- 
 ence beyond the present. That we have a 
 moral nature we cannot doubt, that we do not act 
 in conformity with its dictates we must allow ; 
 we approve the right and do the wrong. Even 
 
MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 387 
 
 when we feel within us a disposition to do jus- 
 tice and love mercy, there is a voice that cries, 
 " dost thou walk humbly with thy God ?" The 
 young man who enquired of our Saviour "What 
 he must do to inherit eternal life ?" declared that 
 he kept all the commandments, still he was sen- 
 sible that something was wanting to give accep- 
 tance with God. This has been the conviction 
 of the human mind in all a^es. The sacrifices 
 offered to the Deity by all the nations of the 
 earth, not only upon Jewish altars by the Divine 
 command, but to idols of every name and char- 
 acter, prove a sense of guilt that nothing but blood 
 can wash away. It is Conscience that cries "what 
 hast thou done ?" This cry is heard in the soul, 
 not indeed at all times, for conscience, like every 
 other power of the mind, is liable to perversion; 
 it may be silenced by the passions, or prejudiced 
 by the "understanding that judges according to 
 sense." So that though the Scripture declares 
 " that every imagination of the thoughts of man's 
 heart was only evil continually," yet there are 
 not wanting those who assert the contrary, who 
 " through an evil heart of unbelief," depart from 
 this testimony of " the living God." 
 
 But conscience rarely permits even the phi- 
 losopher, who by all the reasonings that the 
 corrupt intellect can frame to confirm his infi- 
 delity, to descend to the grave in quiet. Vol- 
 
388 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 
 
 taire, and Hume, and many great in name, were 
 in their last hours disturbed by its upbraidings. 
 The Earl of Rochester, whose moral reason 
 was so far awakened as to cause him to acknow- 
 ledge, " that he saw vice and impiety were as 
 contrary to human society as wild beasts let 
 loose would be," and therefore declared that he 
 would change the whole course of his life, al- 
 though he had not arrived at a belief in Chris- 
 tianity. But, when in reality, he felt the hand of 
 God upon him in the extremity of bodily anguish, 
 his conscience was aroused like a lion and the 
 agonies of his mind sometimes swallowed up 
 the sense of what he felt in his body. " He 
 told me, says Bishop Burnet, to tell it to one 
 for whom he was greatly concerned, that though 
 there was nothing to come after this life, yet all 
 the pleasures he had ever known in sin, were 
 not worth the torture he had felt in his mind." 
 Charles IX., who occasioned the massacre of so 
 many Protestants in France, died miserably. 
 Two days before his death he said to his nurse, 
 " Ah my dear nurse, what blood, what murders. 
 Oh, my God, pardon me and be merciful. What 
 shall I do ? I am lost forever, I know it."* 
 
 The superstitious observances of the heathen, 
 as well as of those who profess a corrupt Chris- 
 tianity, even the works supposed meritorious by 
 
 • Curiosities of Lit. 
 
MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 389 
 
 those who hold the truth in unrighteousness, 
 are all the effect of conscience, illy directed. 
 In such, the conscience is influenced by the 
 prejudices of education, by an erratic invagina- 
 tion, or by an evil heart of unbelief; and the 
 difficulty of rectifying such errors is the greater, 
 on account of the strength of the attending emo- 
 tions. When the mind becomes fully impressed, 
 through parental authority, or its own fancies 
 and reasonings, that either eternal salvation, or 
 higher favour with God — that is, increased 
 holiness, depend upon any particular duties or 
 observances, nothing can deter from the perform- 
 ance of what is deemed essential to such an 
 end. This is in accordance with reason ; for 
 indeed what should not a man give, or do for 
 a release from everlasting pain, or to secure the 
 favour of the Almighty ? The aged Hindoo 
 desires to die on the banks of the Ganges, bathed 
 in the waters which he supposes will wash away 
 sin ; the mother casts her helpless offspring into 
 the same sacred flood to propitiate the deity. 
 The widow ascends the burning pile, lighted by 
 her son, to consume her living bodv, together 
 with that of her dead husband, that they may 
 ascend to the same heaven, whicB cannot be 
 theirs without some extraordinary sacrifice. 
 Even the atheistical Boodhist expects another 
 existence of happiness, provided he is suffi- 
 
390 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 
 
 ciently meritorious. Among works of the high- 
 est merit, he esteems the feeding a hungry, in- 
 firm tiger, with his own flesh.* 
 
 To the alarmed conscience, God is indeed a 
 consuming fire, and so fearful is the imagination 
 of His wrath, that no suffering seems too great 
 to purchase His mercy. Those, who rest their 
 hope of it upon their own performances, will 
 go through an endless and tiresome routine of 
 daily services ; the omission of a single form 
 brings its penance, perhaps of severe privation 
 or of bodily suffering. Or, if better taught, 
 they are exact in the duties of morality, expen- 
 sive in their charities, warm in their zeal. Thus, 
 it may be, with quieted consciences, they give 
 God thanks that they are better than others, and 
 possibly, in the exultation of self-complacency, 
 they think to do Him service by harsh censures, 
 or even by persecution. 
 
 "But, treacherous Conscience, while she seems to sleep 
 On rose or myrtle, lull'd with syren song ; 
 Listening, o'erhears the whisperers of our camp. 
 Our dawning purposes of heart explores, 
 Writes our whole history, which Death shall read." 
 
 Philip of Spain, so zealous, as he imagined, 
 for the Church, on his death-bed sent for his 
 confessor and said to him, " Father confessor, 
 as you occupy the place of God, I protest to 
 you that I will do every thing you shall say to 
 
 * Ency. of Religious Knowledge. 
 
MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 391 
 
 be necessary to my salvation, so that what I 
 omit doing, will be placed to your account, as I 
 am ready to acquit myself of all that shall be 
 ordered to me."* 
 
 The torments of an alarmed conscience, at 
 such an hour, must be inconceivably dreadful. 
 Whatever can bring to it well founded and cer- 
 tain peace, would occasion to the possessor 
 greater joy than all the treasures of the globe, 
 and all the pleasures and honours they could 
 purchase, laid at his feet. Mr. Swartz, the 
 missionary, relates, that a certain man on the 
 Malabar coast, enquired of the priests how he 
 could make atonement ? They directed him to 
 drive iron spikes, blunted, through his sandals, 
 to place upon them his naked feet, and walk 
 about four hundred and eighty miles. He un- 
 dertook this journey, and while he halted to rest 
 under a shady tree, one of the missionaries came 
 and preached in his hearing, from these words ; 
 " The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all 
 sin." While he was preaching, the man rose 
 up, threw off his torturing sandals and cried 
 aloud, " This is what I want," and became a 
 witness of the truth of that passage.* This 
 blood it is, which cleanses from all sin, and this 
 alone can make the wounded conscience whole. 
 Neither the annals of Paganism, or the records 
 
 * Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge. 
 
392 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 
 
 of the Philosophy that depends upon reason 
 alone, can point to such a remedy. Socrates, 
 who, of all the Heathen philosophers, seemed 
 to live most in accordance with the dictates of 
 reason and natural conscience, professed to be 
 guided by a divine impulse, w T hich prevented 
 his acting when he would go wrong. But So- 
 crates, though he spoke to his followers of the 
 necessity of prudence and virtue, and set before 
 them immortal rewards if they cultivated these 
 with attention, yet he pointed them not to the 
 Spirit of Truth for their guide, nor opened a 
 way of deliverance from guilt. He speaks of 
 persons being purified by philosophy, and if not 
 entirely innocent, of being sent to a place after 
 death, there to expiate their faults by propor- 
 tioned punishment. Miserable comfort is this 
 in death! Still this belief, aided probably by 
 the pride of dying in conformity with what 
 he had taught his friends, and professed before 
 his enemies, sustained this great man in that 
 trying hour. But on the point of rendering up 
 his soul, he recollected a vow he had made to 
 the god iEsculapius, and uncovering his face, 
 he prayed his friend Crito, to offer the sacrifice 
 without fail. 
 
 Philosophy, whether ancient or modern, can 
 offer no solid consolation to the conscience, pol- 
 luted by sin. Who would dare to make the 
 
MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 393 
 
 proud appeal that Epictetus desired to make as 
 his last prayer? u O Lord, have I violated 
 Thy commands ! Have I abused the gifts Thou 
 hast conferred upon me ? Have I not submit- 
 ted my senses, wishes and opinions to Thee ? 
 Hast Thou ever surprised me murmuring and 
 dejected ?" Scarce any one, though he might 
 live in such sentiments, would choose to close 
 his eyes in death with such an address to the 
 Almighty, hoping, on such grounds, for accep- 
 tance. Perhaps not another member of the 
 human family, would, with Rousseau, write the 
 confessions of a life, dishonoured and infamous, 
 and declare that this document was intended to 
 be presented to the Eternal Judge as his justifica- 
 tion.* The enlightened and humble conscience, 
 has, in all ages, said to God, " behold I am vile, 
 mine eye seeth Thee, wherefore I abhor myself 
 in dust and ashes." Happy those, who through 
 Christ Jesus, freed from the law of sin and 
 death, with Paul can exclaim ; " Who is he 
 that condemneth ? it is Christ that died," " it 
 is God that justifieth ;" " it is the Spirit that 
 helpeth our infirmities." " We are more than 
 conquerors through Him who loved us." 
 ♦NoteR. 
 
394 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 In a review of the subject now before us, we 
 find in our mental constitution faculties for the 
 acquisition of knowledge, and ability for such 
 a use of it, as would render man, even on earth, 
 akin to angelic nature. Let us now look upon 
 the world within us, by consciousness, and ex- 
 amine the world without, and we shall perceive 
 in the human soul the ruins of an exquisite piece 
 of workmanship. This is visible in all the in- 
 tellectual operations, and still more in the feel- 
 ings and emotions of the heart. 
 
 The senses present innumerable objects that 
 address themselves to the understanding and to 
 the feelings, but how does it happen that we 
 most frequently disregard those that are useful 
 and good, while we are attracted to those whidh 
 are hurtful ? Why instead of nourishing our- 
 selves with proper food, do we pamper the ap- 
 petites and do injury to the body — the organ 
 which God has provided for the immortal spirit, 
 so as to impede its operations, and sink the un- 
 derstanding: below the instinct of the mere ani- 
 mal, or else work, through intemperance, the 
 feelings up to the wickedness of demoniac rage ? 
 Why in our perception and love of the beautiful 
 do we so attach ourselves to certain objects, as 
 
MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 395 
 
 to forget that there are higher delights than those 
 of earth ? Why so carried away by imagina- 
 tion as to forget the sober duties of life ; even 
 extracting poison from its sweets, presenting the 
 intoxicating draught, or bitter chalice, to those 
 that should be cherished in the bosom ? Why 
 seeing ourselves connected with others, not only 
 in the intimate relation of family, but also par- 
 ticipants of the same Providential allotments ; 
 enjoying equally the light and the dews of hea- 
 ven, resembling each other in form and intellect ; 
 partakers of like joys, like sorrows ; alike fee- 
 ble, suffering, and subject to death. W r hy sen- 
 sible of all this, do we not feel, at all times, the 
 heart warm with love to those who so nearly 
 resemble ourselves, who are of the same flesh, 
 the same spirit, and under the same natural 
 government ? 
 
 Look abroad, and see the dissensions that 
 reign in households ; what jealousy, envy, an- 
 ger, hatred, even revenge among brothers ; how 
 much more among neighbours; between nations 
 how much blood is spilled through these unholy 
 passions, and ambition still more unholy. Even 
 when the passions do not thus flame out in fury, 
 we find that mankind delight to pour contempt 
 upon each other. They defame whole nations, 
 they slander their neighbours, they speak evil 
 of those who occupy exalted stations, and over- 
 
396 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 whelm those who through misfortune are sunk 
 below them. Men will have what they call their 
 own rights, should humanity weep tears of blood 
 at their ket. The heart sickens at the contem- 
 plation of such disorders, and we perhaps seek 
 consolation in the thought that we find ourselves 
 free from these debasing passions. But let us 
 examine. Do we, in every instance, "esteem- 
 ing others better than ourselves," prefer, when 
 competition takes place, the good of our neigh- 
 bour to our own ? or do we not sometimes seek 
 our own interest at the expense of our neigh- 
 bour ? When we hear him complain of misfor- 
 tune, of pain or of grief, do we not, in thought, 
 immediately revert to our own trials, and instead 
 of relieving his heart by sympathy, selfishly pour 
 upon him our complaints, with the feeling that 
 we are the greater sufferers ? Does not the cheek 
 sometimes grow pale and the lip curl in scorn 
 when deserved praise is given to a rival, and 
 does not the eye sparkle with pleasure when 
 some tale to his disparagement is told ? Our 
 moral nature revolts at such conduct in others, 
 and the consciousness of such feelings in our- 
 selves brings a blush of shame upon the cheek ; 
 yet we listen not to such prompting, but excuse 
 ourselves with the plea, that we cannot help it ; 
 that so we are born ; that it is the nature given 
 us by our Creator. Experience indeed teaches 
 
MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 397 
 
 that thus we are born, but Reason contradicts 
 the assertion, that a Just and Good God thus 
 created us. Conscience loudly proclaims that 
 the sin is our own, and that, at some time, it 
 will meet its just and terrible punishment. Still 
 we go on, and on ; we choose the evil and reject 
 the good. And why 1 are we impelled to evil 
 by irresistible impulse % Some are of this opin- 
 ion : but you, my young friends, are unwilling 
 to think yourselves mere machines, moved by 
 a power without which you cannot resist ; still 
 you possibly believe, that } r our desires and af- 
 fections leading you to certain indulgences, and 
 to conduct which you disapprove, are a power 
 within, over which you have no control. But 
 is this true 1 
 
 I desire to move my position and I do not, 
 because the motion occasions pain, and I will 
 not. Here desire and will, are opposed and 
 will prevails. A man desires money, but does 
 not obtain it because the attainment would in- 
 volve his honesty; he will not have it by unfair 
 means, though it might purchase comfort for his 
 family and pleasures for himself. The affections 
 indeed are not under the control of the will, but 
 are we on this account excusable for loving what 
 is wrong, and hating what is right ? Would a 
 man be cleared at a tribunal of justice who de- 
 clared that his hatred of a person was so strong 
 
398 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 that he could not forbear taking his life ? Or 
 would that son be considered justifiable who 
 should declare that he disliked his mother so 
 much that he would give her no support in her old 
 age ? This would be unnatural, and monstrous. 
 If a person had conferred a benefit upon another, 
 and should receive the confession, I have tried 
 to love you and feel gratitude but cannot ; would 
 not every one cry out against the unnatural 
 creature 1 A desire to love or to be grateful, is 
 not the same as loving or being grateful ; of such 
 a person we should say, he has no right sensi- 
 bilities or feelings, but this would be no excuse. 
 Our evil propensities show a depraved nature, 
 but they are no excuse for our evil actions ; they 
 show, that although we hold a most exalted rank 
 in creation, and are favoured with the innume- 
 rable blessings of Providence, yet that we are 
 in a most deplorable condition. We not only 
 do wrong, but love to do wrong, while our moral 
 nature approves, and prompts us to the right. 
 We feel that we will not, and declare that we 
 cannot do, what we acknowledge we ought to do. 
 These facts should affect every rational mind, 
 and induce to the consideration of what may be 
 the consequences of dying in this state. 
 
 We are all aware that if we wish to turn the 
 attention to an object or subject we can do so, 
 even though it be disagreeable ; many a boy has 
 
MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 399 
 
 Learned a hard lesson when he desired greatly 
 to be at play, because it was required of him, 
 and probably he received his reward by being 
 enabled, in time, to love what at first was so re- 
 pugnant to his feelings. When a child diso- 
 beys his parents, through strong desire to do 
 wrong, he expects, and will receive, if his father 
 be not criminally indulgent, the chastisement 
 due to his fault. If a man through the desire 
 of gain, or because he is poor, takes another's 
 purse, the civil law will come upon him with 
 retribution, and every one expects it, no one 
 excuses him because of his desire, or even his 
 need ; the plea that he could not help it would 
 not be heard : to say that he was thievish by 
 nature would draw upon him contempt, and to 
 urge that he was impelled to it by irresistible 
 destiny, would be met with the ridicule, that if 
 it w r as his destiny to be a thief, so is it his des- 
 tiny to be imprisoned and punished with thieves. 
 If persons in the season of youth wilfully neg- 
 lect instruction, they are not so much pitied as 
 blamed for their ignorance ; so if a man through 
 indolence or love of expense lets his affairs fall 
 into ruin, especially if others are involved with 
 him, he is blamed for his carelessness and waste- 
 fulness ; and he stands also self-condemned. 
 The person who has committed a murder, knows 
 that he shall justly suffer death, he blames not 
 
400 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 the laws of his country : his conscience accuses 
 him of wilfully depriving a fellow-creature of life, 
 though he might have been prompted by passion. 
 Thus every thing within and without us shows 
 our free agency as far as attention to duty, and 
 resistance of evil is concerned, and proclaims 
 our moral responsibility. If we are thus con- 
 demned and punished by the civil law, by the 
 laws of society, and by the law we carry within 
 us — the law of conscience — what must we not 
 expect from the law of the Righteous Judge ] It 
 is possible, my dear young friends, that some of 
 you may take a sort of comfort in the thought 
 that you have no power over the inclinations and 
 affections of your souls, and so go on in the grati- 
 fications of sense ; and while you thus display 
 your love for sin, you show a fearful alienation 
 from God, in the reproachful thought which rises 
 within your minds, "why doth He yet find fault 1 
 for who hath resisted His will." It is indeed 
 dreadful thus to set yourselves up as a mark for 
 Almighty vengeance. True it is, "that the whole 
 head is sick, and the whole heart faint," and that 
 "there is no soundness in us." True it is, that 
 no power but Almighty, can overcome the des- 
 perate obstinacy of the human will, which seems 
 in this most irrational aberration of the intellect, 
 and entire absence of all right, spiritual affec- 
 tions, even to rejoice in its opposition to the 
 
MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 401 
 
 Creator and Father of the immortal spirit. But 
 slight not the mercy that expostulates in such 
 tender terms, "Come now, and let us reason 
 together, though your sins be as scarlet, they 
 shall be white as snow." Lord Byron in the 
 latter part of his life expressed to a pious ac- 
 quaintance a desire to be a Christian, saying 
 there was no joy on earth. He acknowledged 
 that he read the Bible, but had not got so far as 
 to pray. He could not pray because he still de- 
 lighted in sin and would not. "Ye will not come 
 to me that ye may have life," said the Redeemer. 
 The case of Byron, who wished for insanity to 
 quell memory, affords a remarkable illustration 
 of the truths contained in the first Chapter of Prov- 
 erbs, which is worthy your most careful perusal. 
 Lord Rochester, the conclusion of whose his- 
 tory we recur to with satisfaction, said, while 
 still in his state of rebellion against God, "If a 
 man says he cannot believe, what help is there ? 
 for he is not master of his own belief." But 
 when he looked upon himself as in danger of 
 condemnation, "he set himself to turn to God un- 
 feignedly, and to do all that was possible in the 
 little remainder of life which was before him. to 
 redeem those great portions of it that he had for- 
 merly so illy employed." Observe the difference 
 between these two noblemen. They were both 
 
 men of gifted minds and stood high in the literary 
 26 
 
402 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 and gay world. They were both profligate and 
 both cut down in the meridian of life. The sun 
 of Byron set in darkness : Rochester declared 
 that -he hoped to obtain mercy through his cru- 
 cified Redeemer. " He made me, said Bishop 
 Burnet, pray often with him ; under all his pain 
 he did not repiue, but said " God's will be done." 
 He died quietly and breathed out his soul in 
 prayer. 
 
 This history, my friends, needs no comment. 
 You confess that you are prone to evil, that you 
 often resolve to overcome your unholy disposi- 
 tions and habits, but before you are aware you 
 fall again into the same errors ; you labour in 
 the pride of your own strength, which is per- 
 fect weakness. You set yourselves to reflect upon 
 your condition, but cannot keep your attention 
 fixed on any spiritual subject; and it may be that 
 sometimes you cry, O wretched creature, who 
 shall deliver me ? There is but One Deliverer, 
 and " He is nigh to all who call upon him in truth." 
 You have destroyed yourselves, but in Him is 
 your help. Seek Him now, in youth, when He 
 graciously invites you to remember your Crea- 
 tor. Seek Him, for soon the days of evil — sor- 
 row, sickness, and death will come. Be assured 
 that now is the accepted time and day of salva- 
 tion. He who formed man in His own image 
 and breathed in him a living soul, which by sin 
 
MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 403 
 
 has become defaced, polluted, and subject to 
 eternal death, can, and will recreate it in the 
 likeness of the Divine Redeemer, bestow upon 
 it that purity which shall fit it to " see God," 
 and give to it, Eternal Life. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 My Young Friends: — In arranging these Lec- 
 tures for the press, I have been induced to omit the 
 last Chapter containing the application of the Prin- 
 ciples of Mental Philosophy to Habits and Character. 
 This offers too wide a field for instruction, to be com- 
 prised in such a limit. Should these Lectures prove 
 acceptable, I contemplate at some future period to 
 continue the subject ; thus renewing an intercourse, 
 which, to me, has been most pleasant. That what I 
 now offer, may be both agreeable and profitable to 
 you, is the desire of your Friend and Instructor. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note A. Combe, one of the most approved and 
 popular writers on Phrenology says, "I do not mean 
 to insinuate that any of the tendencies bestowed on man 
 are essentially bad in themselves. Destructiveness and 
 Acquisitiveness, for example, are, when properly 
 directed, unquestionably good, but they become the 
 sources of evil when their organs are too large in pro- 
 portion to those of the moral sentiments and intellect. 
 Xnbad qualities, therefore, I always mean either disease, 
 or unfavourable proportions among the different or- 
 gans." — Constitution of Man. Note on Chap. 3, Sec, 3. 
 
 According to this theory, vice is nothing but an un- 
 favourable proportion among the organs. Should 
 these principles be adopted for truth, they must un- 
 doubtedly weaken our belief in Revelation. In the 
 Bible we are taught that bad qualities or sinful pro- 
 pensities, originate in the fall of man from the state of 
 rectitude in which he was created. By this he lost 
 the image of God, or love of holiness. Nothing is 
 said of the increase of any bodily organ as a conse- 
 quence of this. And when, as it is related, the mur- 
 derous propensity of Cain was developed, no excuse 
 was made on account of " disease or of any unfavor- 
 able proportions among the different organs," but "if 
 thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door," was the 
 declaration of his Creator. 
 
 Is it not dangerous to admit any theory or any work 
 on science in our schools and seminaries of learning, 
 that has a tendency to weaken in the youthful mind, 
 a belief in any of the great doctrines contained in the 
 Scriptures of Truth 1 I pray Teachers most care- 
 fully to consider this question. 
 
 Note B. Man, although not yet lord of the visible 
 universe as an adult, is lord of it as an heir, and exer- 
 cises the authority becoming the minority of one, for 
 whom vast possessions are in reserve. Man we be- 
 lieve to be immortal, Revelation apart, not because 
 his mind is separable from animal organization, but 
 
NOTES. 405 
 
 because his intellectual and moral constitution is such 
 as to demand a future develop ement of his nature. — 
 Physical Theory of a future Life, pages 243, 273. 
 
 Note C. — Causation — Cousin. "Not only is 
 there in the human mind the idea of cause ; not only 
 do we believe ourselves to be the causes of our own 
 acts, and that certain bodies are often the cause of the 
 movement of other bodies ; but we judge in a gen- 
 eral manner that no phenomenon can begin to exist ; 
 whether in space or in time, without having a cause." 
 Cousin further says, that without this principle in the 
 mind — causality, furnished by reason, we should 
 never obtain a knowledge of the external world, for 
 the senses alone would not give it. — Elements of Psy- 
 chology, Chap. 4. Translated by Dr. Henry. 
 
 Note D. Cousin's Psychology, page 112. — " I 
 suppose if you did not think and were not conscious 
 of thinking, you would not know that you existed. 
 Reflect whether in the absence of all thought, all con- 
 sciousness, you could have any idea of your own ex- 
 istence, and consequently of your existence as one 
 and the same 1 On the other hand can you have the 
 consciousness of a single operation of your mind, 
 without instantly having an irresistible conviction of 
 your existence % You cannot. In every act of con- 
 sciousness there is the consciousness of some opera- 
 tion, some phenomenon, some thought, volition or 
 sensation ; and at the same time the conception of our 
 existence. And when memory, following conscious- 
 ness comes into exercise, the phenomena which just 
 before were under the eye of consciousness, fall under 
 that of memory, with this implicit conviction, that the 
 same being, the same / myself, who was the subject 
 of the phenomena of which I was conscious, still ex- 
 ists, and is the same whom my memory recalls to me. 
 And you are carefully to observe that the sole, direct 
 objects of memory and of consciousness are phenomena 
 present and past, but at the same time, consciousness and 
 memory never take cognizance of these phenomena 
 without the reason suggesting to me the irresistible con- 
 viction of my personal existence, one and identical." 
 
406 NOTES. 
 
 Note E. — Physical Theory op a future Life. 
 
 The five senses we have said, may be regarded as 
 limiting the percipient faculty, not merely as to the 
 amount or extent of the impressions we receive, but 
 in regard also to the hind of sensation which the mind 
 may be inherently capable of admitting. By the 
 means of these senses we become acquainted with 
 some of the properties of matter ; but it is only a 
 few, and the intimate researches of our modern phys- 
 ical science leave no room to doubt that there are 
 many agencies in activity about us, which although 
 they make themselves known in their ultimate conse- 
 quences, are not directly cognizable either by the eye, 
 the ear, the touch, the taste or the smell. The exter- 
 nal world, as at present percej>tible to man in five 
 species, may to other sentient natures be perceptible 
 in twenty or in fifty kinds. If the mind may know the 
 difference of hot and cold, hard and soft, loud or harsh 
 and melodious, red and yellow, sweet and bitter, it 
 may discriminate other qualities that belong to matter. 
 
 We ought assuredly to believe that He who has 
 endowed his rational family with powers fitting them 
 to comprehend the reason of His works, and with a 
 disposition to admire what they understand, will not 
 in the end hide from them any thing which they might 
 know with safety and advantage ; and that gradually, as 
 one special and temporary motive of concealment after 
 another is superseded, the veil will be drawn aside, so 
 that what once was inscrutable shall be openly displayed 
 
 Note F. Rousseau speaking of himself says, 
 " This uncontrollable love of independence or liberty, 
 in me, is less the result of pride than of indolence, 
 incredible indolence. All is revolting to it, the smallest 
 duties of civil life are insuj)portable. This is the rea- 
 son why common intercourse with men is odious to 
 me, and friendship dear, because in this there is no duty : 
 we follow the heart and all is done. This is the rea- 
 son why I fear benefits, every benefit exacts gratitude, 
 and my heart is ungrateful because gratitude is a duty." 
 — Dictionnaire Historique, imprisne a Caen, 1783. 
 
 Note Gr. From Wardlaw. There is something 
 
NOTES. 407 
 
 awfully sublime in this conception of Deity. Jeho- 
 vah had, from eternity existed alone. Our minds are 
 overwhelmed, when we attempt to think of infinite 
 space, even as it is replenished with its millions of 
 suns and systems of inhabited worlds : but still more 
 are they baffled and put to a stand, when we try to 
 form a conception of immensity, before sun or star ex- 
 isted, before any creature had a being — of immensity, 
 filled with nothing^but the pure, etherial, invisible es- 
 sence of the great uncreated Spirit. 
 
 Notes H. and I. omitted. 
 
 Note J. Cousin. " It is not true that we begin 
 by simple ideas, and then proceed to complex ideas. 
 On the contrary, we begin with complex ideas and 
 from them proceed to more simple." " All our first 
 ideas are complex and for the evident reason, that all 
 our faculties, or at least a great number of our facul- 
 ties enter into exercise at the same time ; and their 
 simultaneous action gives us at the same time a num- 
 ber of ideas bound and blended together, which form 
 a whole." — Elements of Psychology, page 176. 
 
 Note L. Wiseman. For as a day appearing now 
 and then of brighter and warmer sunshine doth fore- 
 shew that the full burst of summer's glory is about to 
 break upon the earth, so do certain privileged minds, 
 by some mysterious communication, ever foresee, as 
 it were, or rather feel sometime beforehand, and an- 
 nounce the approach of some great and new system 
 of truth. — Lectures on the connection between Science 
 and revealed Religion. 
 
 Notes M. and N. Cousin. I hold also that the. 
 highest degree of knowledge is intuitive knowledge. 
 The knowledge of time, space, personal identity, the 
 infinite, all substantial existences, as also, the good and 
 beautiful, has you know this peculiarity, that it is not 
 grounded upon the senses, nor upon consciousness, 
 but upon reason. 
 
 When we interrogate reason about itself, to inquire 
 into its, own principle, and the source of that absolute 
 authority which characterizes it, we are forced to re- 
 cognize that this reason is not ours, nor constituted by 
 
408 NOTES. 
 
 us. Independent of our will, reason imposes upon 
 us these truths. Reason makes its appearance in us, 
 though it is not ourselves. Reason is impersonal. 
 What is the principle of this reason which enlightens, 
 without belonging to us. This principle is God, the 
 first and last principle of every thing. — Psychology, 
 pages 299, 300. 
 
 Notes O. P. omitted. 
 
 Note Q,. Cousin. " On our knees ourselves, be- 
 fore the principle of our enthusiasm and our faith, we 
 wish also to make others bend their knees to the same 
 principle, to make them adore and serve* what we 
 adore and serve. From hence religious authority, 
 and then very soon tyranny. Men begin by believing 
 in special revelations made in their favour ; they end 
 by regarding themselves as delegates of God and 
 Providence, commissioned, not only to enlighten and 
 save teachable souls, but to enlighten and save, spite 
 of themselves those who resist the truth and God. 
 The 'folly of enthusiasm conducts very rapidly to the 
 tyranny •of enthusiasm." — Psychology, page 303. 
 
 Note R. Rousseau left in his portfolio, his Con- 
 fessions in twelve books, six of which have been pub- 
 lished. In this work, he announces himself as a bit- 
 ter misanthrope, standing on the world in ruins, de- 
 claring to the human race which he supposes there 
 assembled, that no one in that immense crowd will 
 dare to say, I am better than this man, (Rousseau.) 
 This fanatic pride is not the worst reproach made 
 against him. Under pretence of being sincere he 
 dishonours the memory of his benefactress, Madame 
 de Warens. He makes in these Confessions avowals 
 which certainly prove that there were better men 
 than himself, for the first six books scarce exhibit any 
 thing but his vices : in the last six he speaks of the 
 virtues which in his estimation balance them. — Par 
 une Societe des Gens des Lettres. Dictionnaire His- 
 torique imprimee a Caen, 1783. 
 
 THE END. 
 
CORRECTIONS. 
 
 20th page, 3d line from the top, read belong in- 
 stead of belongs. 
 
 61st page, 8th line from the top, read to emotion 
 instead of to motion. 
 
 170th page, 3d line from the bottom. This was 
 true ; forgetfulness, &c. 
 
 179th page, 16th line from the top, read as for of. 
 
 208th page, 5th line from the top insert for after " in." 
 
 211th page, 11th line from the top, read luxuriant 
 for " luxurious." 
 
 211th page, 2d line from bottom, for hedious read 
 hideous. 
 
 240th " 13th " " " read gods, instead of 
 
 " God." 
 
 339th page, 14th line from the bottom, read be 
 greatly, instead q? " greatly be." 
 
 345th page, 3d line from the bottom, read clean, 
 instead of " clear." 
 
 346th page, 4th line from the top, insert of after 
 " emotions." 
 
 367th page, 11th line from the top, read than in- 
 stead of "but." 
 

 
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 Treatment Date: Oct. 2004 
 
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