<0 N < ' 4 Xi *#<&• :& ^.,^ V : •"-> . ^ y ^ -> 'i & „ C' -., o 0' 0c> V, ,9* s s * f * O V Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, By D. H. HAMILTON, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. STEREOTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, No. 19 Spring Lane. PUBLISHERS' ANNOUNCEMENT. This system of Mental Science commends itself to attentiou from the following considerations : — 1. The live question of the age and the hour is this : "God, or no God ? " " Theism, or atheism ? " or, in specific terms, " Is God a person, or only a force ? " 2. This vital question, with those affiliated with it, the Autology meets and answers : it is, therefore, the book for the times. 3. The method is inductive, and the style is at once logical and illus- trative : it is, therefore, a book for both the scientist and the people. 4. The aim of the Autology is fully and forcefully expressed on the title-page ; viz., A Vindication of the Manhood of Man, the Godhood of God, and the divine Authorship of Nature. 5. The Autology is not simply a book, but a system ; not a mere col- lection of essays or lectures, but a complete and unified treatise, having one vital principle, and one homogeneous identity and life. 6. This work is original in that it brings out new truth, and re-states, re-defines, and uses old truths in such -a way that they have the force of nev ones. It is not, therefore, simply another volume on a known sub- ject, but decidedly a new system of mental science, having a distinct and thoroughly marked individuality. 7. This system is original in that it sets out with the questions, " How can the mind begin to act ? " " How can it begin to know ? " the answer being, " Through the two primordial elements, essential activity and essential intelligence. ,, ( iii ) iv PUBLISHERS' ANNOUNCEMENT. 8. It is original in that it makes these two primordial elements the spiritual, vital, and dynamical forces by which the whole system of mental science, and the whole manhood of man, soul and body, are devel- oped, built up, and completed in one unity and identity ol being- and life. 9. It is original in that it gives a new analysis of the will in its elements as produced by essential activity and essential intelligence show- ing that it thus becomes the centre and substance of the mind, in which all the other faculties inhere, and the sole possessor of liberty. 10. This system furnishes a new exposition of the nature of liberty and of the freedom of the will, and, in particular, of the nature and act of choice, distinguishing liberty from alternative action, and choosing from selecting. 11. The affections, the intellect, and the conscience, are set forth as qualities developed from the will by the ceaseless life-force and intelli- gence of its primordial elements, so that the faculties all hold a vital and dynamical relation to each other, and to the will as their essence. 12. The affections are analyzed, defined, and classified according to a method not hitherto employed ; — they consist of six elemental affections upon which respectively are built six orders of determinate affections with their various classes and manifestations ; — the method is at once clear and natural, comprehensive and unique. 13. The intellect is made to consist of two parts, the consciousness and the reason. To the consciousness belongs the function of a forma- tive principle, and of a knowing faculty, giving the primary facts of the mind's own being. To the reason belong the senses, as adjuncts, constituting with it but one faculty, which has the two functions of form- ing universal and necessary ideas from the facts of consciousness, and of knowing external objects by means of those ideas, and through the instrumentality of the senses. 14. The whole subject of knowing is treated in a manner altogether peculiar to this author, — all knowing being divided into absolute know- ing and relative knowing. 15. The absolute knowing of pi'imary facts is by the consciousness. 16. The absolute knowing of ideas is by the reason. 17. By the absolute knowing of the consciousness an exhaustive exploration of the subjective facts of the mind is made. 18. From these facts are formed, by the absolute knowing of the reason, all universal and necessary ideas and categories, or " intuitions," as some writers call them. PUBLISHERS' ANNOUNCEMENT. v 19. By this means it is shown that the beginning of all knowledge is a posteriori, and not a priori. 20. Faith, memory, and imagination receive a new analysis. 21. Relative knowing is by the reason, with its adjunct the senses, and by means of the ideas and categories formed from the facts of con- sciousness. 22. In this way, the reason believes, perceives, cognizes, remembers, conceives, ratiocinates, imagines, invents, idealizes, and performs all the acts of relative knowing. 23. The treatment of the relations of the mind to the body, of the mind as embodying itself, of the senses as adjuncts to the reason, and of the executive organs of the body, is also peculiar to this book. 24. It is shown that the mind as naturally grows a body upon itself and takes it on as the body itself takes on the covering of the skin, and $hat the soul's bodily covering may perpetually undergo changes here- after as it does in this life. 25. The conscience is the highest faculty of the mind, and is the ulti- mate outgrowth of all the preceding faculties. It is formed by the final coming together and last coalescence of the original elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, after they have formed all the other faculties, and as they crop out at the summit of the soul, completing its development as a competent and accountable being. 26. The whole man, with all his faculties of body and mind, con- stitutes the complete personality. 27. This personality is the first fact, and the only key to knowledge, the only fact of liberty, and the one and only inevitable proof of a God. 28. By means of the faculties, facts and ideas found in his own per- sonality man is able to know both absolutely and the absolute. 29. The infinite, according to this author, is found to be one with the absolute, and identical with the perfect ; and consequently comprehen- sible by man : while the finite is shown to be identical with the indefi- nite; and as such, beyond the reach of the human faculties. 30. Space and time are defined as objective and finite realities, created with the objects which they contain and number ; and are care- fully distinguished from the nothingness and the merely negative possi- bility which are so often mistaken for them. 31. The infinite and the absolute coalesce in the personal God, and exist no where else ; and he alone is absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute ; and that as a free, volitional, affectional, rational, and ethical Person. vi PUBLISHERS' ANNOUNCEMENT. 32. The personal God is shown to be the true dynamics of the uni- verse and the ultimate fact of all science. 33. As such, he has power to work miracles, answer prayer, and exeicise an overruling providence over the world, and to do all in har- mony with his own attributes, with the faculties of man, and with the laws of nature. 34. The Critical Appendix contains an analysis of the chief works of leading authors in mental science and philosophy, from Thales and Socrates of old to Cornte and Spencer of to-day, with strictures and criticisms according to the principles of this book. 35. The book is adapted to the use of the student, and the more advanced scholar. It will supply the wants of the minister of the gospel, the business man, and the general reader, and is carefully arranged by chapters, sections, and paragraphs as a text-book for schools, academies, colleges, and all seminaries of learning. The book will be published in one large octavo volume of 720 pages. Cloth. Price, $5.00. Sold by booksellers generally, and sent by mail, post paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, LEE & SEIEPARD, Boston. LEE, SHEPARD, & DILLINGHAM, New York. GENERAL CONTENTS. PA.au EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION 1 PART I. — THE WILL 15 II. — THE AFFECTIONS .105 III. — THE INTELLECT 267 IV. — THE CONSCIENCE . . 605 V. — THE PERSONALITY 641 CRITICAL APPENDIX 698 vii CONTENTS. EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. PAGE I. — Preface 1 II. — Subject-matter 2 III. — Title 3 IV. — Terminology , 5 V. — Questions 3 VI. — Intention 7 VII. — Method 11 VIII. — Criterion op a True System of Mental Science 14 PART I. THE WILL. CHAPTER I. THE FIRST GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS TWO- FOLD, VIZ., HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO ACT — HOW CAN IT BEGIN TO KNOW? Sect. I. — How do the Truth and Importance of this Proposition ap- pear? 15 II. — How can the Mind begin to act? 18 III. — How can the Mind begin to know ? 21 IV. — What is the First Object and what is the True Key of all Knowledge? 26 V. — The Vital and Dynamical Process of the Mind's Development and Construction 29 CHAPTER II. THE SECOND GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT IS THE SUBSTANCE OR ESSENCE OF THE MIND? Sect. I. — Can we know the Substance of Matter and of the Mind? . . 30 II. — Is the Substance of the Mind the same as the Substance of Matter? 33 III. — Is the Substance of the Mind distinct from the Qualities of the Mind? 36 IV. — The Difference between Qualities and Faculties of the Mind. 39 V. — The Difference between Qualities and Elements. ...... 40 VI. — Conclusion 42 viii CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. THE THIRD GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT IS CHOICE? Sect. I. — What is the Process and what are the Antecedents to Choice? 43 II. — What is the Act itself of Choice? 52 CHAPTER IV. THE FOURTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT IS THE FACULTY OF CHOICE? : 56 CHAPTER V. THE FIFTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT IS THE POWER OF CHOICE? Sect. I. — The Objective or Occasional Power of Choice 58 II. — The Subjective or Efficient Power of Choice, comprising the True Elements of the Will 61 CHAPTER VI. THE SIXTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT IS THE VITAL AND DYNAMICAL CONSTRUCTION OF THE WILL? Sect. I. — Essential Activity 66 II. — Essential Intelligence 70 III. — Essential Individuality 73 IV. — Essential Law 76 V. — Essential Liberty 78 VI. — Essential Will complete 80 CHAPTER VII. WILL QUESTIONS. Sect. I. — The Eelation of the Self, the Will, and the Personality, to each other and to the essence of the mlnd, and the Difference between the Essence of the Mind and the Es- sence of Matter 82 II. — The Relation of the Will to Liberty 83 III. — The Relation of the Free Act of the Will, in choosing, to the Spontaneous and Necessary Acts of the other Faculties of the Mind 85 x CONTENTS. Sect. IV. — Tnn Relation of Liberty to the Act of Choice 9.0 V. — The Relation of Choice to contrary Choice 92 VI. — The Relation of Liberty and Necessity to THE EFFICIENT and the Occasional Power of Choice 93 VII. — The Difference between Selecting and Choosing 94 VIII. — Why does the Will choose one Thing rather than another? 95 IX. — Can THE Will BE CONTROLLED INEVITABLY) WITHOUT DESTROYING its Liberty? 99 X. — Have Brutes a Will? 101 XI. — Will -Power 102 XII. — Conclusion 103 PART II. THE AFFECTIONS. CHAPTER I. THE NATURE OF THE AFFECTIONS, AND THEIR RELATION TO THE WILL. Sect. I. — The Affe< mons belong to the occasional Power of Choice. 105 II. —The Affections are the Empire of the Will 109 CHAPTER II. THE ELEMENTAL AFFECTIONS. Sect. I. — Mutual Relations of the Elemental Affections 114 II. — The Affections as Selfial and Selfish. — 1. Desirefdlness. 2. Trustfulness. 3. Hopefulness. 4. Cheerfulness. 5. As- PIRINGNESS. G REVERENTIALNESS 115 III. — The Elemental Affections discriminated from each other. . 117 CHAPTER III. THE GENESIS OF THE DETERMINATE AFFECTIONS. . 128 Order I. Individual Affections. II. Social Affections. III. Patriotic Affections. IV. Philanthropic Affections. V. ^Esthetic Affections. VI. Religious Affections 132 CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. THE ORDERS OF DETERMINATE AFFECTIONS. Order I. — Individual Affections ►• •' • 136 Class 1. Self-sustentative Affections 138 2. Self-defensive Affections 142 3. Self-acquisitive Affections 150 4. Self-annunciative Affections. . . . . 160 II. — Social Affections 166 Class 1. Marital Affections 168 2. Kindred Affections 172 3. Annual Affections 175 III. — Patriotic Affections 177 Class 1. Eaceal Affections 180 2. Local Affections.' 181 3. Cultal Affections . 185 4. National Affections 186 IV. — The Philanthropic Affections 188 Class 1. Humane Affections 190 Manifestations. — Pity for the Suffering, the Sick, and the Afflicted ; Help for the Needy ; Kindness to the Undeserving- ; Forbearance for the Erring: Charity for all. 2. Utile Affections 195 Manifestations. — Home Conveniences; Social Proprieties; Public Spirit. V. ./EsTHETICAL AFFECTIONS 208 Class 1. Playful Imitativeness 210 Manifestations. — Animal and Mental Development; ADimal and Mental Education; Animal and Mental Recreation. 2. Ideal Creativeness 214 Manifestations. — Ideal Theorizingness, Philosophizing, Build- ing up Systems 'of Religion, Philosophy, Science, Govern- ment, Morals, and a Phdosophy comprehending all; Ideal Inventiveness, as of Instruments, Machinery, Engines, Steamboats, Railroads, Telegraphs, Factories, Forges; Ideal Reproductiveness, Reproducing History and Nature in the rr . Drama, Poetry, Song, Painting, and Sculpture; Ideal Kn- hanciveness, Enhancing, Magnifying Character, or Forms of Nature, or a Capability of being Moved by the Sublime; Ideal Perfectiveness, Periectiug and Beautifying Nature according to the Ideals of the Mind, either in Architecture, Painting, Sculpture, Music, Poetry, or the Drama. 3. Depreciative Sportiveness 223 Manifestations. — Wittiness ; Ludicrousness ; Satiricalness. VI. — Religious Affections 227 Class 1. Spiritual Wants 234 2. Faith in God 237 3. Hope of Immortality 240 4. Anticipation of Heaven • • 241 5. Divine Assimilativeness. . . . 243 6. Devotedness to the Divine 245 xii CONTEXTS. CHAPTER V. HEART QUESTIONS. Sect. I. —The Heart the Seat of Moral Chabactbb II. — I. What is Depravity? II. What is Insanity* III. Whm ifl Dementia? IV. What is Demonia< ix Possession? V. Cai bi - OF THE ABOVE STATES. VI. CASTING 01 1 D EVILS -~>i III. — Is MAN RESPONSIBLE FOB Ills DEPRAVITY? &C 260 IV. — The Heaut the Seat of Salvation 268 V. — IIeakt-Power 264 PART III. THE INTELLECT. DIVISION I. HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO KNOW? CHAPTER I. WHAT ARE THE FACULTIES OF KNOWING? A. What is the Consi roi sness? 2G9 B. What is the Reason? 27U C. What is the Sense? 276 D. What is the Conscience? 278 CHAPTER II. WHAT IS KNOWING? Sect. I. — What is Knowing in general? 279 II. — All Knowing is divided into Absolute and Relative Knowing. 283 III. — What is Knowing as distinguished by the States and the' Modes prominent in the Act of Knowing? 288 A. Conscious Knowing £90 B. Rational Knowing 291 C. Sense Knowing 202 D. Intuitive Knowing 295 E. Instinctive Knowing 29G E. Dream Knowing 3U1 IV. — With what Kind of Knowing, and with what Faculty of the Intellect, can the Mind begin to know? 804 CONTENTS. DIVISION II. ABSOLUTE KNOWING, OR THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF IDEAS AND THE SENSE. CHAPTER I. THE CONSCIOUSNESS GIVES ORIGINAL FACTS, AND BEGINS KNOWLEDGE. Sect. I. — Certain Foundation Facts, showing that the Mind itself, with its Being, Faculties, and Action, affords the Mate- rial out of which Ideas are formed 315 II. — How the Consciousness finds and gives the Original and On- tological Facts out of which the Reason forms Ideas. . 322 III. — The Difference between the Human Mind, Brute Being, and Inanimate Nature respectively 346 A. Facts Peculiar to the Human Mind *. . . 346 B. Brute Being 353 C. Inanimate Nature 3G1 CHAPTER II. THE REASON FORMS IDEAS FROM THE FACTS OF CON- SCIOUSNESS. Sect. I. — What is an Idea? ...... 364 II. — The Difference of the Relation of the Reason to the Con- sciousness in forming Ideas, from its Relation to it in cognizing external Facts 368 III. — The Reason does its Work of transforming Facts into Ideas. 370 IV. — Absolute Personality distinguished from Human and Im- siORTAL Personality, and also from Brute Being and Inanimate Nature ■ 403 CHAPTER III. FACTS, IDEAS, AND CATEGORIES OF THE UNEMBODLED MIND. 418 CHAPTER IV. THE SENSE. Sect. I. — The Nature and the Faculties of the Sense, and its Rela- tion to the Body 429 II. — What is Body, and why is the Soul embodied? ....... 432 XIV CONTENTS. Sect. III. — The Union of Soul and Body « 438 IV. — The Relation of the Sense to Knowing 453 A. The Relation of the Body to Mental Manifestation 458 B. What is perceived by Means of the Sense ? 454 C. May there be more than tive Senses? 456 DIVISION III. RELATIVE KNOWING. CHAPTER I. THE NATURE OF RELATIVE KNOWING. Sect. I. — The Discrimination of Relative Knowing 457 II. — The Relation of the Operation of the Reason, in Relative Knowing, to the Affections. . . . 458 III. — What are the Comparative Certainty and Reliableness of Relative Knowing and Absolute Knowing? 450 IV. — What is the Difference between Adsolute Knowing and knowing the Absolute? 460 V. — Kant's Analytical and Synthetical Judgments, or Knowing. . 470 CHAPTER II. SOUL LANGUAGE AND SOUL IMPLEMENTS, Or the Dictionary and Instruments of the Reason used in Relative Knowing 474 CHAPTER III. THE OPERATIONS OF THE REASON IN RELATIVE KNOWING. ART. I. — THE REASON ACQUIRES EXTERNAL FACTS. Sect. I. — The Reason Believes .' 478 A. What is Faith, and what is the Difference between Believing and Knowing? 478 B. What is the Difference between Relative Knowing and Believing? 479 II. — The Reason Perceives 483 A. What is Perception ? 483 B. What are the Grounds and Conditions of Perception? 486 CONTENTS. xv Sect. III. — The Reason Cognizes 492 A. What are the Knowings of the Reason under, and by means of, the Categories and the Senses? 492 B. How is this Act of Cognition verified? 494 C. Further Verification of the Act of Cognition 49S D. All Causes are Phenomenal in their Effects, as Substances are in their Qualities, and hence are perceptible 501 E. Man, as Effect, is Phenomenal of God the Absolute. 506 F. The Conclusion 514 IV. — The Reason Conceives 517 V. — The Reason Remembers. 521 A. What is Remembering? 521 B. The Relation of Remembering to Cognizing 522 C. How does the Reason remember? 524 D. How are Conceptions of External Things retained in the Mind? . 536 E. The Mutual Relation of Believing, Cognizing, and Remembering. 550 ART. II. — THE REASON COMBINES EXTERNAL FACTS. Sect. I. — The Reason Abstracts, Generalizes, and Classifies 554 II. — The Reason Ratiocinates. 556 III. — The Reason Rhetorizes 561 IV. — The Reason Theorizes 563 V. — The Reason Invents 565 VI. — The Reason Imagines 507 A. Imagining distinguished from other Operations of the Reason. . 567 B. The Reason Embodies 570 C. The Reason Idealizes 572 D. The Reason Imagines Ideal Reproductions of the Real 573 E. The Reason Enhances ■ ' F. The Reason Beautifies or Perfects G. The Reason Depreciates H. Genius and Art 581 VII. — The Reason Theologizes; or the Reason Affirms God and Immortality 5S8 A. The Soul asserts itself and its God 588 B. Immortality 591 VIII. — The Reason Legislates 594 IX. — Conclusion 594 A. The Route from Man to God is not through Nature, but through the Human Soul 594 B. The Soul claims to know God by its Intellectual Power, and not simply to infer his Existence from its Ethical Nature 595 xvi CONTENTS. DIVISION IV. INTELLECT QUESTIONS. Chap. I. — What is the Standard of Truth? 597 II. — Can the Trustworthiness of the Faculties of the Mind be PROVED BY THE TESTIMONY OF THOSE FACULTIES THEMSELVES? GOO III. — What is the Limit of Human Knowledge? 601 IV. — Intellect Power 603 PART IV. THE CONSCIENCE. CHAPTER I. NATURE AND FUNCTIONS OF THE CONSCIENCE. Sect. I. — An Ethical Judgment is the Highest Function of a Rational Soul G05 II. — Is there a Conscience? G07 III. — What Faculties must be in Ouder that a Conscience may be? 610 IV. — What is the Conscience? 613 V. — What is the Office of the Conscience? 618 VI. — What is the Rule of Duty which the Conscience must ever and of Necessity receive and enjoin? 625 VII. — Are all. Men under Obligation to have the True Law of the Eight and the True Rule of Duty, so that if they do Wrong they do it at their Peril? 627 VIII. — What is the Ground and Limit of Man's Responsibility? . . 628 IX. — Is the Man Just before God who obeys the Dictates of his own Conscience? 630 CHAPTER II. QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. Sect. I. — What is Man, in View of his Original Faculties, under Ob- ligation to be and to do? 632 II. — What, as a Fact, is Man's Actual Condition and History? . 633 CONTENTS. xvii Sect. III. — Has Man, in View of his Fallen Condition, a Right to claim that God shall provide Salvation? or can he do any- thing THAT WOULD LAY GOD UNDER OBLIGATION TO MAKE such Provision? 634 IV. — Is Repentance the Work of the Conscience? 634 V. — Is Man under Obligation to Repent? 635 VI.. — Will Choosing to Repent, and Choosing to Change and Pu- rify the Heart, actually produce Repentance, and actu- ally Change and Purify the Heart ? 636 VII. — If Choosing to Repent and Purify the Heart does not give Repentance and Purification, what, then, is Man- under Obligation to do? 636 VIII. — How, then, can the Heart be Changed and Purified? .... 637 IX. — Does the Law of Love bind God to Convert all Men, and Save them at all Costs, and with all Possible Expendi- ture of Grace? 638 X. — Will God ever cease to make Efforts to save the Souls of Men, even though he is not bound by the Law of Love to do so, and even though they fall again and again, and fall ultimately into eternal death ? 63!) XI. — Conscience Power 639 PART V. PERSONALITY. CHAPTER I. PERSONALITY AS A COMPLETE AUTOLOGY 641 CHAPTER II. PERSONALITY AS THE FIRST FACT OF LIBERTY 646 CHAPTER III. PERSONALITY AS THE KEY TO ALL KNOWLEDGE 652 CHAPTER IV. PERSONALITY RENDERS A PHILOSOPHY POSSIBLE. Sect. I. — Is a Philosophy Possible? 657 II. — Errors in Psychology which have prevented the Finding of a True Ontology 662 III. — Errors as to the Nature of the Infinite and Absolute which HAVE PREVENTED THE DISCOVERY OF A TRUE 0.NTOLOGY. . . . 669 CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. PERSONALITY THE ONLY TRUE DYNAMICS AND THE ONLY TRUE ONTOLOGY OF THE UNIVERSE 678 CHAPTER VI. A PERSONAL CREATOR THE ULTIMATE FACT OF RELIGION AND SCIENCE 082 CHAPTER VII. PERSONALITY QUESTIONS. Sect. I. — Miracles 635 II. — Prates * 690 III. — Providence 694 CRITICAL APPENDIX. Chap. L — Man, God, Nature 698 II. — Principles and Rules of Criticism 700 HI. — xUthors 701 AUTOLOGY. EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. In the successive sections of this introduction will be found some gen- eral views in reference to the motives, matter, title, inscription, inten- tion, questions, and method of this book. It is designed to place the reader at the stand-point of the author, in order that he may more clearly see the scope of the work, more readily comprehend its subordinate parts, and be in a better position to form a judgment as to the extent to which it has fulfilled its own plan, and, in the end, gained or failed of reaching its own ultimate object. • I. Preface, a. The primary motive for writing this work was not to make a book, but to investigate mental science. A knowledge of the facul- ties and functions of the mind seemed a mental necessity and a moral duty. For who can ever know himself, his obligations or liabilities, without a knowledge of his own soul's faculties ? and what rational being can rightly rest in ignorance of himself? The labor thus self-imposed grew into a pleasure, and became its own reward. b. The points of beginning from which the inquiries of this book set out in search of truth, were the work of Jonathan Edwards on the " Freedom of the Will," and that of Immanuel Kant, entitled the " Critique of the Pure Reason." It scarcely need be said in this place that these two great works were not regarded as the poles of truth, but only as the poles of inquiry, by starting from which it has been sought to explore the equatorial re- gions of truth. The works of Edwards and Kant are the cooled and hardened masses of lava thrown out from the volcanic depths of the human mind by the eruptions of its own metaphysical fires.. In these vast masses, strown roughly along the rugged steeps of study and inquiry, are found many precious stones and valuable metals, with much of baser matter, such as mere cinders, ashes, and debris. 1 2 AUTOLOGY c. In these two great works are treasured much sturdy thinking and much valuable truth ; but, alas, there may be discovered there also much feeble thinking and the germs of nearly all the errors that infect the world of mental science. The fact is appalling, for if such giants in intellect fail, who can succeed ? Where they fall, who shall have the presumption to rush into the "imminent and deadly breach"? Yet "hope springs eternal in the human breast.'' And it is eloquently said that "never to give up the hope of a philosophy is the last infirmity of noble minds," hence philosophy never wants a votary or a champion willing to undertake her cause. d.* The thought and study which have wrought out and wrought them- selves into this book, have been put forth in hearty earnestness and in good faith, and have maintained their hidden and silent way as an under- current of living interest through many years of laborious and exacting professional duties and cares. The work thus produced may not be deemed worthy of high estimation ; yet if they who read it remember that the whole progress in science has been gained by small items contributed by many individuals, and that what may seem of but small value in the possession may have cost much in the procurement, and if it be remem- bered, also, that what may be very little to receive may be very much to be without, then it may turn out at the last that " he who gives a cup of cold water only " in the name of Science, as well as he who gives it in the name of Christ, " shall in no wise lose his reward." e. With these views and sentiments, this book is " cast upon the wa- ters " and surrendered to its fate. Intelligent and candid approval will be grateful, and intelligent and candid criticism will be thoughtfully con- sidered. That they who have wrought out systems of mental science for themselves, or they who have already adopted the theories of others, will lay them aside to take up the system of this book is not expected ; but it is hoped that they who have not as yet formed their opinions, and who are struggling to master the problems of mental science, will find some help from the study of these pages. II. Subject-matter, a. Man, as a volitional, affectional, intellectual, ethical, and physical being, having both soul and body in one essential unity and life, is the subject-matter of this book. b. The three great facts of the universe are Man, God, and Nature. c. Man, though not the greatest fact in the universe, is yet the first fact met, and the first to be known by the human mind. When man is known, then may we know God ; and when man and God are both known, then, and not till then, may we know nature. d. In treating of man, we shall find in him the following substantive faculties : 1. The Will ; 2. The Affections ; 3. The Intellect ; 4. The EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 3 Conscience; — together constituting one manhood, and all combining in the unity of one personality. These four faculties and the personality which they compose will be discussed in order, forming the five leading parts of the work. III. Title. The full title and definition of this work is as follows : autology a spiritual, vital, dynamical, and inductive system of mental Science, whose centre is the Will, and whose completion is the Person- ality, HAVING ESSENTIAL BODY ; A VINDICATION OF THE MANHOOD OF Man, THE GoDHOOD OF GOO, AND THE DIVINE AUTHORSHIP OF NATURE. a. This system of Mental Science is called Autology, because it is man's own knowing of himself, and because in thus knowing himself the knower and the known are not only actually identical, but also neces- sarily in the same consciousness with the act itself of knowing. b. It is called Autology, because it is man's science of himself, and because it regards individuality as the law of liberty creating the wil], and the will as the essence of the mind generating its own qualities as faculties of the mind, and thus completing the personality. c. It is called Autology, because it is only by making 'himself the first object of knowledge, and because he can and must make himself the first, the immediate, and the direct object of knowledge that man can either, begin to knoto at all or know anything certainly or absolutely. d. It is called Autology, because the person thus known is not only the first fact of knowledge, but is the key, the only possible key, to all knowledge of God and of Nature — the first element in all possibility of knowing anything,; and here it is that we find the only veritable significance of the ancient apophthegm, "yvcbdi OcavTbv ,: ' e. This system of Mental Science is called spiritual, because the mind of man is essentially spirit in its nature. /. It is called vital, because it starts with the elements of Essential Activity, which is the Life principle, and of Essential Intelligence, which is the knowing principle, and because from these grow up the whole nature of the mind by combinations and development. g. It is called dynamical, because the relations of the elements to each other and to the faculties which they produce, and into which they are developed, are not only vital, but dynamical, and causative of these fac- ulties thus developed. h. It is called inductive, because it begins always with facts, and from them induces its principles ; or, rather, its facts are its principles, and hold a vital and dynamical relation to each other. i. And, furthermore, this system of Mental Science is called spiritual, vital, and dynamical, because man has spirit, life, and force in his own nature in common with universal being as essential elements : it is, there- 4 AUTOLOGY. fore, not simply a psychology, but is also in some sort an Ontology, com- prising what is sometimes known as " Logic, Natural Philosophy, and the Philosophy ,of Mind ; " not that man is all being, or that all being is man ; but that man has in himself the same elements that are found in all things. j. The mind is essentially spirit, essentially life, and essentially force ; the first of these possessing in itself both the second and the third, and the second having in itself the third also, while the third stands alone, without having in it any part of the second or of the first. k. All things in the universe are divided into spirit, life, and force. Rational Souls belong to the class of spirit, Animal Nature belongs to the class of life, and Inanimate Nature belongs to the class of force. While this classification is true, it is also true that rational souls have in thciii. not only spirit, but also life and force ; that animal nature has in it life and force ; and that inanimate nature has in it only force, and no life nor spirit. I. This system of Mental Science is said to have the Will as its centre, because the will is shown to be the essence of the mind in which all the faculties inhere. m. It is also said to have its completion in the Personality, because the personality is the resultant of a combination of all the faculties in one living unity. As the will rises above mere self, in that it has liberty, so personality rises above mere will, because it has affections, reason, and conscience. )i. This personality is described as having " essential body " be- cause it is the- nature of the spirit, or the mind, to embody itself ; for, as souls have in them force as well as spirit and life, they have thereby in themselves the power of self-embodiment. As souls embody themselves before they are born into the world, so have they ever the power, and so is it ever their nature and tendency, to. embody themselves ; death 'is nothing but disembodying, it does not take away the power of the soul to renew its body, nor its tendency to do so. o. Moreover, as each self-conscious spirit necessarily includes itself ■ in its own self-consciousness, and excludes every other spirit from it, so that they are always mutually impenetrable and objective to each other, they must always, of necessity, present themselves to each other as having body or quantity as well as soul, and, consequently, communicate with each other by means of signs of thought ; and all this by virtue of the simple fact of their reality as living and actual beings. p. This spiritual, vital, dynamical, and inductive system of mental science is an Autology, because, when done, it forms one vital whole, one live man, one complete and effective personality having essential body, which, as such, actually performs all the functions of a human being. EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. . 5 IV. The Terminology, a. He that thinks his own thoughts will feel the necessity of using his own words, and of constructing his own sen- tences ; hence every original thinker and writer will find himself either using old words in a new signification, or coining new words in order to express his thought and discriminate his meaning ; and the structure of his sentences and the whole cast of his style will also of necessity have a strongly marked individuality. b. If an author has never had occasion to coin a new word, if he has never found it necessary to recast or redefine an old one, it is to be feared that he never coined a new. idea, or so reproduced or perfected an old one as to make it his own. If an author has a now and original thought, or a new cast of an old one, he has a right to the clearest and directest manner of expressing it, either by a new word or by an old word redefined and made new for his purpose. c. All that any reader has a right to demand is, that his author shall use words well defined and clear, and always in the same sense. To require an author to adopt another man's terminology or to imitate another man's style is to infringe upon the liberty of thought, and to attempt a petty tyranny in the republic of letters. Criticism performs its smallest and least honorable office, when, in reviewing a scientific work, it descends from logic and clearness in thought and expression to the mere milliner's work of dogmatizing over terms and style. d. Nor is it fair to judge of a scientific and logical discussion as we would of a mere literary essay or a set oration ; for, as in mathematics the same signs and formulas must be used and repeated at each step of the argument, and as the accuracy of a mathematical conclusion depends on the exactness of the terms used, and especially on the identity of those terms in each recurring place, so also in metaphysical science terms and definitions must be exact, and used and repeated always in pre- cisely the same words,: — ipsissimis verbis, — or they will mislead and conduct to error and not to truth. e. No earnest and competent student whose spirit yearns to know the meaning of his author and the force of his argument, will ever complain of either new words or new definitions ; nor of repeating them ; nor of any peculiarity of style ; if so be his author makes himself clearly and unmistakably understood. .Words and definitions that mean one thing, and nothing else, in the connection in which they are used — that mean the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth — are to be found if possible, and when found, to be employed and repeated in the same identical and invariable form and sense in all parts of the same argu- ment ; and that regardless of all considerations of mere > variety of expression in the use of terms, or elegance of style in the construction of sentences. If, according to Daniel Webster, "clearness, force, and 6 AUTOLOGY. earnestness are the qualities (in the orator) that produce conviction," then are they all-sufficient for the metaphysician, who seeks no other result. V. Questions. a. The two great generic questions of mental science, are, How can the mind begin to act? and how can it begin to know? These questions involve others of great importance ; as, 1. What is liberty, what is will, what is choice:'' 2. What is consciousness? 3. What is knowing? 4. What is the first object of knowledge ? 5. What is the true key of knowledge? 6. Can the mind know absolutely ? 7. Can the mind know the absolute? These questions are the same as asking whether the mind can do anything, or know anything. b. The answer to these questions, is, that man is to himself, of neces- sity, the first fact of liberty and the first object of knowledge, and thus the test of all freedom and the key to all knowledge. Man can. and must, begin his own action, and originate his own knowing; which is equivalent to saying, that he can act freely, and can know absolutely, and the absolute. For to begin to know is to know one's sell' as the first object of knowledge, and to know one's self is to know absolutely, because the knower and the known are identical — and to know one's self as a free affectional, rational and ethical soul, is to know that such a soul had of necessity a beginning and a beginner, both of which must necessarily be absolute. c. That man lias no absolute freedom, but only alternative freedom, that man cannot know absolutely, but only relatively, and that all knowledge must begin outside of man, is the current philosophy of both atheist and theist. The German absolutists are no exception to this remark, for they were not absolutists in any right meaning of that term ; they were only naturalists, or pantheists ; they merged nature and man iu God, which is precisely the same as merging God and man in nature. They destroyed the true absolute, and neither explained it nor believed in it. The absolute is God, God alone, distinct and separate from both man and nature. d. The doctrine that we can know only relatively and the relative, is the doctrine of atheism, and it is impossible for any theist to rescue it from the service of atheism. It is false to .the free will, the self-seeing consciousness, and the self-comprehending reason of man, denies their existence, and makes them impossible, and hence destroys the man- hood of man, and by so doing destroys all proof of the personality and Godhood of God, and by consequence of the divine authorship of nature. e. The making of so-called liberty to consist in mere spontaneity, or alternative action, is the destruction of all liberty ; and the making of so- called knowing to consist in mere relative knowing and knowing the EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 7 relative is the destruction of all knowing. True liberty is self activity and self-intelligence under the control of self-law iu self-disposition ; and true knowing is self-seeing and self-comprehending. These give absolute liberty and absolute knowing ; for in this liberty the disposer and the disposed of are identical, i. e., the will disposes of itself; and in this knowing the knower and the known are identical, i. e., the conscious- ness is conscious that it is conscious, and the reason comprehends itself, and in each case of necessity absolutely. f. From this it will readily appear that almost all errors in systems of theology arise from a false mental philosophy, as the gravest errors in mental philosophy arise from studying nature first and the mind after- wards, or from attempting to apply the laws of nature to the study of the mind. Sceptics are able to doubt, and atheists are able to argue, because a false mental philosophy confounds the mind with nature, and blends God with universal being ; and theists are unable to defend themselves be- cause their mental philosophy is lame, and betrays them into contradic- tion and absurdity. VI. Intention. 1. a. This book is written in vindication of the Man- hood of Man, the Godhood of God, and the divine authorship of Nature: b. In order to this, we begin by establishing the Manhood of Man ; 'for no one can deny the Godhood of God, until he has first destroyed the manhood of man ; nor can any one deny that nature has an Author, until he has first annihilated God. c. On the other hand, no one can affirm that God is God, until he has first found out that man is man ; nor can any one show that nature had an author, until he has first found that God has a being. Man is a free, volitional, affectional, rational, ethical, and personal soul, having spirit and body, and is in. the image of God — who is an infinite and absolute personal spirit^ and whose attributes are consequently analogous to those of man. d. But Nature is nec*essary, unintelligent, impassive, and irrespon- sible — a mere force, and no person. Nature alone in the universe is dark, greedy, and ghastly ; a monster and an atheist, knowing noth- ing; and proof of nothing; ever living by breeding and devouring her own offspring; a most unnatural nature, to which life is death, and death, life ; a nature which is not nature at all, because alone, and without God and man. e. On the contrary, nature with God and man existing, God' as its author, and man as its lord, is Divine; she is the devout and'beau- tiful daughter of Divinity, the loving bride of Humanity, and the benig- nant nursing mother of all living. /. If, therefore, there is no man, then there is no God; and if there is 8 . ADTOLOGY no God, then there is no nature [that is nature), but only a monstrous cannibalism, making the universe a horror. g. The true order of the sciences, and the highway of all knowledge, is, therefore, this ; viz. : Man, God, Nature ; not nature first and man and God afterwards, for all who begin with nature must of necessity end in nature and in atheism; nor, if God be sought first, and man and nature afterwards, can the truth be found, for no man with mere human faculties of knowledge can, in the first instance, find God, or come into direct contact with his person; but always, and everywhere, man first, then God, then nature. This is not only the best route, but the only possible route of knowledge and of science in the universe. Man can neither find, nor can God reveal knowledge in any other way. Man, therefore, is the first object of knowledge, and mental science is the first in order and the first in importance of all the sciences. 2. a. What, then, is it, in this manhood of man, that makes it the first object, and the only key of knowledge ? What gives it preference over nature, as the only evidence of a God ? The reply is, that man is manifestly the first object of knowledge because he is himself the first object with which his own mind comes in contact, and he is the evi- dence of God's being because he is of the nature of God, as a free, affeetional, rational, and ethical spirit, and because he can be shown as such to have had a beginning, while nature is necessary and mechan- ical, and can never be shown to have had a beginning. b. First, man must be shown to have a free will, a heart, a reason, and a conscience ; or, in other words, it must be shown that he is free, affeetional, rational, and ethical in his nature ; a living soul ; and that as such his being had a beginning. Then is this — his begun existence as a free, affeetional, rational, and ethical soul — evidence, proof un- deniable, of the existence of a God, — a free, affeetional, rational, ethical God, self-existent and almighty, the Creator of all things. c. If man has no free will, if man has no comprehending reason, or, in other words, if he cannot originate his own acts, and thus show abso- lute freedom, and if he cannot originate his own knowing, and thus know absolutely, then has he no action, and no knowing, which are his own, but acts and knows only as he is acted upon, — and consequently is no man, has no manhood, has no personality; but is only a fact of nature, and is no evidence of the being of a personal God. Hence man must be known before God can be known, and God must be known before nature can be known; and hence, again, — a psychology must first be, before a theology can be, and a theology must be, before a philosophy of nature can be made. d. God is spirit and person while nature is only thing, and a bottom- less chasm holds them in eternal separation ; no bridge constructed EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 9 from nature's materials and projected from nature's abutments can span that infinite abyss and reach the personal Creator. The attempt to prove the existence of God from nature is the immemorial folly of the theists, while to degrade man to the level of nature is the eternal crime of the atheists. e. The aphorism, " Through nature up to nature's God," can never conduct man to his Creator. There is no possible route through nature up to God. Nothing in nature is capable of proving a personal God. Through man alone, through man as a free, affectional, rational, and ethical soul alone, lies the route to a personal God; and a God that .is not personal is no God at* all. Through man up to man's God and nature's Author, lies' the only highway of truth and the only true science. Nature can never afford any proof of the manhood of man or of the Godhood of God. f. The argument, "He that formed the eye, shall he not see?" was not intended to prove God's existence — it shows only the working of a formative power, it assumes, but is of no force to establish the being of a personal God — for the eye is only a machine, and seeing is only a mechanical act. The maker of the eye might there- fore have been only a better mechanic than the beaver who builds his dam, or the spider who draws his lines and angles. g. No argument is valid but this; viz., The begun had a beginner. The free will of man is the only thing in existence that can be proved to have had a beginning ; he therefore who began the free will of man must have created it, and he who could create a free will must have been himself an almighty and self-existent free will. 3. a. As it is true that God cannot be known unless man is first known, so also is it true that nature cannot be known unless God is first known. By no study of nature in the first instance, unaided by an antecedent knowledge of man and of God, can even nature herself be known as to her cause qr end ; therefore the first object of a work on mental science should be to show the manhood of man, and thereby, secondly, the Godhood of God ; and by this, again, the divine authorship of nature ; and by all these combined to show the divine intention and divine indispensableness of all created existence. These things being done, we shall have distinctly before us man, God, nature, in their true being, in the true order of our knowing, and in the true order of science. b. Nature in all her wondrous mechanism is but mechanism still, and mutely and automatically moves in her mechanical rounds, and can never tell whence she is or whither she is going, but only that she is forever coming and going — mystery is behind her, mystery is before her, mystery is above her, mystery is beneath her, and mystery is within her; and the veil of that mystery, she can never lift, nor can any man or angel by 2 10 AJJTOLOGY. studying her mechanism and laws ever Bnd her out. Nature is the lone Isis, who ever still, as of old, inscribes on her "\\ d eternal mechanism, aa descriptive of herself, her history, and her doom : " 1 am all that has been, 1 am all that shall be, and none among mortals has < vet been able to lift my veil." . c. Behind that veil of mystery lurks atheism forever, and ever hides secure with all its horde of lies. Alternately does •atheism deify and revile nature; at one time affirming that she is a goddess ami the eternal mother of all, and "at another declaring that she is a base foundling, straying down the broad common of eternal aires, or wildered and lost in the waste and howling- wildernesses of a godless universe. Nature alone is helpless; and though she can easily show that she is no god- dess, yet. she can never vindicate her parentage from God. Nor can any man, or angel, by Studying her, ever demonstrate her origin from < rod, or that there is a God at all. The eternal journey of her labyrinthia|i rounds ean never take him out of herself, but must ever return him to the point from which he started, or have him in darkness at her centre. She can nevei- even precipitate him over her own eternal verge into the friendly nothingness beyond and below her, but must forever grasp and smother him in the burning and crushing arms of her own worse than .Moloch embrace. d. But man can know man, an 1 in knowing him steps out of nature and all her operations; nay. as man he is already Outside ofjiature, and in the region of spirit. He ean know himself to be outside of nature, and can trace his being to its beginning outside of nature also, and find it in the free will of parents. The beginning of the first parents is the point where he finds God. e. Having found God, man comes back upon nature, and views heron the outside, looking down from above and up from beneath, seeing at once through her works, her progress, and her history : and like a traveller from abroad he can e..ter into the central hall of her Egyptian pyramid and explore her hidden chambers; and with the line of his own spiritualness and life he can follow out all the windings of her labyrinthian paths, and by instinct of his own free soul he can break through the dead partition walls that shut him from her central chambers and the central life-spring of all her being, and tell her that she is not self-existent, nor contingent, nor fate-created : — that consequently she is no goddess, nor any base, unfathered foundling, but created by a personal God, a daughter of heaven though a child of earth, and having her life in the universe of common being. /. Nature cannot be known from within, that is, from studying nature, but must be known, if known at all, from without, by studying man and God first. Whosoever enters nature's temple first to find God EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 11 will wander, and wander, and wander endlessly, and will not only find no God, but will become wildered and lost himself; for that temple, growing ever more and more gloomy, and mystic, and dark, will at last become a prison ; and in the night of the closed doors and barred windows of that prison, man, and God, and nature will all be lost in one monstrous and horrid atheism : and here again, it appears that man is, and ever must be, the first object and the true key of all knowledge. g. With this almighty God known, and from this stand-point outside of nature, and in this way alone, is it possible to know nature, to lift her veil, and understand her being and her works. h. God, as rational, is the contriver of nature ; God, as free, is the author of nature ; God, as ethical, is the self-constrained necessity for the existence of nature, and of man ; God, as self-existent and almighty, is the original and uncaused cause, and creator and author of all things ; for God in creating was impelled only by his own love under the divine behest. of his own pure and ethical nature, which obliged him to do his best of wisdom and love with his own almightiness. And here we have the original source of all things, and the true dynamical necessity for the creation of all things. VII. Method. The general method of this work is inductive ; the specific method is controlled by the subject-matter. a. Autology, or Mental Science, has for its subject-matter specifically three things : First, the faculties that act and know, or the actor and the knower ; Second, the operation of these faculties, or the acting and the knowing ; Third, the objects upon which they are exercised, or the acts done and the things known. 6. The discussion of each of these involves that of the others, nor can any one be known without knowing the rest. In this work we seek to know directly the faculties of the actor and the knower, and find them to be the Will, the Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience. In ascertaining them, we begin with the operations of the faculties of the mind, and the object upon which they are exercised. Hence our work starts with these fundamental questions : How can the mind begin to act? how can the mind begin to know? and what is the first object of knowledge ? and what is the key of all knowledge? c. The discussion might be arranged as follows : — 1. 1. How can the mind begin to act? 2. How can the mind begin to know ? These involve the questions, What is the first object ? and what is the true key of all knowledge ? and can the mind know absolutely and the absolute ? Under the former question would be discussed the will, 12 AUTOLOGY. the affections, and the conscience ; under the latter, the intellect and the senses. II. Or the following method might be adopted, viz.: The mind aa to Substance and us to Qualities. The former would include and discuss the will; and tin' Latter, ilif other faculties of the mind, as tin- affections, the intellect with the senses, and the conscience. III. Or a third method or classification might be adopted, viz. : The dividing of the whole mind into, — 1. The efficient m- subjective power of chi 2. The occasional or objective power vi' choice. The former would include the will, and the latter all the other facul- ties of the mind, with the presence of their appropriate external objects. IV. Or the whole mind maybe classified and treated by starting with its two primary elements, in the following manner, viz. : — 1. Essential Activity, whose office is Self-acting. 2. Essential Intelligence, whose office is Sell-seeing. These combining produce, — (1.) The Will, whose office is choosinj,-. (2.) The Affections, whose office is aflectioning. (3.) The Intellect, whose office is knowing. (4.) The Conscience, whose office is moralizing. V. Or the whole mind may lie divided thus: — ( Essential Intelligence, and ) n • • 1. -J „ ..... J- Originators. ( Essential Activity, 2. Will, The Executive. 3. Affections, The People. 4. Intellect, The Legislature. 5. Conscience, The Judiciary. d. These several classifications cover the same ground, and may all be employed together, as they do not at all conflict, but, as a fact, actually coalesce in .one whole, as we shall see in the progress of the work. We shall therefore use all these methods, following' chiefly the order of the fourth classification, yet blending the others with it at their homogeneous points. • e. Thus in Part I., Chapter I., we shall discuss the points laid down in the first classification, viz. : How can the mind begin to act, how can it begin to know, and what is the first object;, and what is the key of all knowledge ? These are primary principles, lying at the foundation of both the philosophy and the method of the whole work. EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 13 /. In Chapter II., we shall discuss the points which constitute the second classification, viz. : The mind, as to Substance and, as to Qualities. This will be done, because in this respect this work differs essentially from other works, viz., as to the nature of the substance of the mind, in that it is a self-conscious, and self-seeing, as well as a self- acting substance ; and in that these are the respects in which it differs from, the substance of matter. g. In Chapter III., we shall discuss the points in the third clas- sification, viz. : The mind, considered as the efficient and as the occasional power of choice ; because thereby we may separate the act of choice from the other acts of the mind, and the faculty that chooses from the other faculties, and thus be prepared to analyze both the*act of choice and the faculty of choice, and to make them stand out clearly and distinctly before us. We shall thus, also, be enabled to point out and discriminate the other acts and the other faculties of the mind. h. From and after Part II. we shall proceed according to the second and fourth classifications to the end, but not failing to make manifest the pertinence and truthfulness of the fifth and last classification, as it will from time to time appear. i. The student of mental science will see that all these classifications blend in one ; that the primary elements, discussed in the first classi- fication, and the substance, or essence, of the mind found in the second, and the efficient power of .choice found in the third, and the will, whose office is choosing, found in the fourth, and the executive found in the fifth classification above, are all identical ; meaning, defining, and characterizing the self-same thing ; viz. : the will ; and that the remain- ing specifications in these first three, and in the fourth and fifth classifi- cations, cover, mean, and comprise all the other faculties of the mind. j. Moreover, he will also discover that, as the will is a combination of both the primary elements of self-activity and self-intelligence, or, as they may be better named, essential activity and essential intelligence, so the affections are a development chiefly on the side of the essential ac- tivity, though not without a mingling of the essential intelligence. k. And he will see that the reason is a development on the side of the essential intelligence, though not without some mingling of the essential activity. • I. And that the conscience is the reuniting of both the essential ac- tivity and the essential intelligence in one last, complete, and highest faculty. Thus the mind is one complete and living whole. m. While it can be analyzed into elements, growths, developments, and faculties, still it is a unity ; one, and but one person, having one life, one centre, and one complete being. This system will have five leading parts, four of them corresponding to 14 AUTOLOGY. the' four faculties of the mind, and a fifth, consisting of their combination into o.ne living whole, or personality, viz.: — 1. The Will. 2. Tbe Affections. 3. The Intellect, with Sense and Body. 1. The Conscience. 5. The Personality. n. In the first four parts, the faculties of the mind, with their opera- tions, will be discussed in the order earned. In the fifth part, the ele- ments of the complete nature and the power of the personality as one living whole will be given, tog-ether with its relation to God and to Nature. Till. Criteria. First. A system of mental science must give and account for aH the known facts and faculties of the mind. Second. It must so arrange those facts in a system as to have each fact in its right place, and each faculty in its right relation to the whole, and performing its right and natural functions. Third. The facts, when thus brought together, must constitute a complete unity; a perfect whole, with no deficiencies, and no redun- dancies; forming one entire and harmonious system. Fourth. The completed, and unified, and harmonious whole when thus formed, with every fact, faculty, and susceptibility of the mind and body in its place, musl be uol only complete, but alive, and able to per- form all the functions of a perfect mind ; so that, like the new created Adam, who, when God breathed into him .the breath of life, Ijecame a living soul, it shall also be a living soul; not an automaton, a lifeless statue, or a grinning skeleton, but a live man, having in himself all the elements of a living being, actually able to perform all the functions of a free, affectional; rational, and ethical soul. Fifth. A system of mental philosophy, when thus complete, must afford the means of explaining the vexed cpuestions, and other difficulties which arise out of mental operations, particularly in respect to choices of the will, cognitions of the intellect, states of the affections, and decisions of the conscience. A system of mental philosophy that can do this, will certainly afford strong evidence that it is true and valid, and may be received as a reliable science of the mind. D. H. H. Boston, January 1, 1873. PART I. THE WILL CHAPTER I. WHAT IS THE FIRST GREAT QUESTION OP MENTAL SCIENCE? The first great question of Mental Science is twofold ; viz., — flow CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO ACT ? HOW CAN IT BEGIN TO KNOW ? Involving 1 many others, particularly these ; viz., — What is Liberty ? What is Consciousness ? What is Knowing ? What is the first Object of Knowledge ? What is the true Key of Knowledge ? Can the Mind know absolutely ? Can it know the Absolute ? » SECT. I. HOW DO THE TRUTH AND IMPORTANCE OF THE ABOVE QUESTIONS APPEAR? a. These first great problems of mental science, How can the mind begin to act, how can it begin to know, involving the questions, What is consciousness, what is knowing, what is the first object and the true key of knowledge, — and can the mind know absolutely, and the absolute, — are • equivalent to the following questions : Can the mind do anything ? can it know anything ? Are the actings and knowings of the mind original, independent, and absolute ? or are they only sec- ondary, dependent, and relative ? and is there any standard and measure of knowledge ? b. The usual method of mental philosophies is, first, to examine the nature and capabilities of the faculties of the intellect, or the sense and the reason, and by the sensations of the former and the ideas of the latter, to ascertain what the mind can know; and secondly, to examine the 15 1G AUTOLOGY. affections, and the conscience, and the will, in order, by 'their nature and capabilities, to ascertain what the mind ran do. c. But tins method obviously takes for granted the thing to be proved. It shows, or proposes to show, what the mind can do, and what it can know, instead of showing whether it can begin to do any- thing, or begin to know anything, and how it can begin to act, and how- it can begin to know. It assumes that we begin to act with the will, the affections, or the conscience, and that we begin to know, cither with ideas or with sensa- tions; whereas, the acting of the will, the affections, and the conscience implies an acting anterior to, and conditional for their action : and the very exist, nee of ideas and of sensations implies an antecedent act of knowing. d. The first spring of our action, and the source of our knowing, are questions still unsettled, and. until they are settled, nothing is or" can be settled; we are not assured that we can know or do anything. We are not certain but that all our knowing j s a mere seeming, and all our acting is merely being acted upon. e. Now. the usual systems of mental philosophy, in reference to the origin which they assign to our knowledge, have been classified under the heads of Sensationalism, Idealism, Scepticism, Mysticism, and Eclec- ticism ; and all these systems have, in whole or in part, agreed in assigning the origin of all our knowing to the faculty of the reason, or to the senses, or to divine inspiration, or to all of them. That is, they have either avowed or assumed these as the origin of knowledge; but each and all of them have failed to trace our knowing to an J original and absolute source, always leaving it at a point where it implies an ante- cedent act of knowing. f. So the systems of mental philosophy have, in reference to the first spring of the action of the mind, been classified under the heads of Necessitarian and Libertarian ; the one holding that the mind has its spring of action in the affections, and the other in the will ; or the one in the strongest motive, and the other in the self-determining power of the will. All who hold that the strongest motive is the source of the mind's action, place that source in the affections. And all who believe that self-determination is the source of the mind's action, place that source in the will; or, it may be,some, more lately, place it in the conscience. g. Each, however, fails to get any independent activity for the mind, and both confound it with necessary action. All these systems have ever mistaken the true object with which to begin their knowing, and with which to provide for themselves the only universal key, measure, or standard of knowledge. THE WILL. it h. That anything may be known certainly and absolutely, the knower and the known must be identical. Something must be known absolutely BEFORE ANYTHING CAN BE KNOWN RELATIVELY. The knoivn object must be also homogeneous with all other objects, in order that the knowledge of it may be a key or measure to the knowledge of all other objects. i. In the following sections we shall endeavor to point out the first spring of the mind's acting, and the true source of its knowing, and also the first object and the true key or measure of all knowledge, and thus lay the foundation of a true system of mental science. j. The primal spring of the mind's acting and the true source of the mind's knowing are the two poles, as the first object of knowledge is the axle upon which a complete system of mental science must ever turn ; the first, giving the true nature of liberty, the second, the true nature of consciousness, and the third, the true test, and the true key, of all knowledge. k. Now, with regard to the question, What is the first spring of the mind's action ? this treatise will reply, that it is not, as the usual systems of mental philosophy assume or avow, either in the affectfons or in the will, nor yet in the conscience, as some would have it ; that, on the contrary, all these are not primary, but secondary activities, implying an antecedent activity, which is necessary to their action. I. And, with regard to the question, What is the source of the mind's knowing? this treatise will reply, that it is not in the senses, nor in the reason, nor in revelation, but all these imply and require a knowledge preceding them, and without which they cannot exist. Neither the senses, nor the reason, nor revelation can begin our knowledge. m. But, on the contrary, this treatise will affirm that the mind, in order to any independent action, must have an activity lying back of the faculties of the will, the affections, or the conscience ; and that, in order to any absolute knowing, it must have a source of intelligence lying deeper than the senses or the reason, and that it must have an anterior knowledge also, before it can be capable of receiving any revelation. n. And with regard to the first object, and the true key and standard and measure of knowledge, it will be shown that they lie in man, and that the mind's knowing extends to the absolute. o. In the second and third sections, we shall treat respectively and at large the questions, How can the mind begin to act? how can it begin to know? In the fourth section, we shall treat the questions, What is the first object and the true key of knowledge ? connecting therewith some necessary showing that the mind can know both absolutely and the absolute. The full discussion, however, of the whole subject of knowing, 3 18 AITOLOGY. with all questions involved therein, will come up legitimately in Pari 111. where the intellect is discussed at large. SECT. II. HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO ACT, OR WHAT IS THE TRUE SOURCE OF LIBERTY? a. We have already seen that the mind, in order to ad at all, and especially to begin to act, must have a spring of action lying- deeper than the will, the affections, and the conscience. b. We now take up the investigation of this point, viz., How can the mind begin to act? With regard to the error of assigning the first spring of the mind's activity to the will, the affections, or the conscience, the reasoning which attempts to establish it will be found to move in a vicious circle, and to end in self-contradiction and absurdity. c. 1. If it l>e affirmed that the action of the mind begins in an acl of choice by the will, it will be found that the act of choice presupposes not only mental actions already existing as objects of choice, but also mental actions to be directed by the act of choice. To choose, is to direct an activity, already existing and in action, towards some other object. The act of choice, therefore, is not. and cannot be, the be- ginning of the mind's action; for it already presupposes two activities, without which it cannot exist. The one is tin' acting which it directs, and the other is the acting which it chooses. '/. "J. If from tin- will we pass over to the affections, and seek in them the first spring of the mind's action, we shall here find that there has been an act of choice directing an already foregone activity produ- cing them. For the affections are all susceptibilities; they act only as they are acted upon, and never until they are acted upon by some object or action without them ; and this action or object is always pro- duced directly or indirectly by the will's act of choice ; as, then, an act of choice presupposes an act of the affections, so also an act of affection presupposes an act of choice ; therefore the action of the mind cannot begin in the affections, for they always presuppose some anterior action. e. The acts of the affections are the objects of choice to the will, but •are themselves produced by some other act or object which acts upon them. They are susceptibilities which rise into emotions after they have been acted upon. They are not the stimulants to the will's choice, but the objects of the will's choice. They neither begin the will's action, therefore, nor their own ; for the will acts before them, and has an activity already existing when it finds them. The will does not, in every case, produce the action of the affections, though it will be found in every instance to have had something to do, directly or indirectly, THE WILL. 19 with bringing about the presence of the object, or the circumstances which do act upon the affections and produce their action, which action the will afterwards chooses or refuses. f. The act of the affections is not a force behind the will impelling it to act, but an object towards which the will directs its activity already existing. The action of the will and the action of the affections mutually presuppose each other, and can neither of them begin the mind's activity. Therefore, to begin with either the one or the other, is to involve ourselves in contradiction and absurdity. g. 3. Nor is the difficulty at all relieved when the attempt is made to confound the action of the will and the action of the affections, and thus to make every act of affection a choice, and every act of choice an act of affection, or a combination of both, which is the same thing, and in neither case is there any independent or original action gained ; for neither the will in its act of choice, nor the affections in their actions, had in them any original activity when single ; they, therefore, could not give any when combined. As no combination of ciphers could produce a unit, so no combination of dependent and secondary activities could 'make an independent one. h. The attempt to combine the will and the affections, ahd to make of them one new faculty, takes two forms ; the one affirms that every choice is an affection, and the other that every affection is a choice, and though appearing to differ, they agree ; for they combine the same ele- ments and produce the same result; viz., that of avowedly confounding the act of choice with the act of affection, but really of confounding the act of choice with the object of choice ; and in either case the activity of the mind is confounded with its passivity, the capability of acting with that of being acted upon, and thus the whole becomes a passivity. For it matters not whether all the choices be made affections, and thus the independence of the will be destroyed, or whether all the affections be made choices, and thus the nature of the act of choice be destroyed ; in both cases the same result is reached ; viz., that of devoluntizing the will, or literally demoralizing the will, and degrading it from an activity to a mere passivity. i. Viewed in this light, it has, in fact, no activity, nothing that can be called freedom ; for by this combination the motive to choice and the act of choice become the same, and the act of choice and the object of choice become identical, and thus no independent activity or freedom is possible to such a will. It is mere passivity acting impulsively, either from within or without. The activity that is not free and independent and original, is no activity ; it is passivity, which is necessary, and not free. j. Thus clearly it is shown, that no action can begin in any choice of 20 AUTOLOGY. the will or in the affections, or in any combination of them, because, first, they have no original activity in themselves, and secondly, because, if the will in choosing had au original activity in itself, that activity is taken away, as we have seen, by combining it with the affections. k. I. The othertheory, of which Kant was the chief author, and which seeks to avoid the preceding difficulty, combines the conscience with tin' will and the affections. It makes the conscience the first spring- of the mind's action, and sets it as an alternative for the will in antagonism with the affections; but it falls into the same contradiction as does the prepeding method ; for the conscience has in itself no original ac- tivity, and can communicate none when combined with the will or the affections. I. Conscience, as a faculty, is simply that which gives the sense, or consciousness, of obligation, jusl as the affection of paternity gives the consciousness of parental affection. Neither of them is a free action, but both arc emotive, appetitive, and aflfectional, and of course act as they are acted upon. The conscience is. therefore, not free, nor can it give freedom any more than can any affection. It acts oidy as it is acted upon by the known rule of duty ; nothing is gained, therefore, in the way of independent activity, by combining it. with tin- will and the affec- tions; the action would remain the same, and be merely that of a passivity, ami not an original and independent action. As an affection, it could merely give an alternative to the other affections. But to have an alternative is not to have freedom ; for the mind is as free with but one object of choice as with thousands. m. But a difficulty more fatal still, if possible, to this theory of blending the conscience with the will, in order to produce freedom, lie- in'this : If the conscience be made to enter into and constitute the will as an element of its being, and activity, and freedom, then the law of right is destroyed ; conscience, as a law over the will, is thereby destroyed ; for that which gives and constitutes the will, cannot be a law over the will ; that which makes freedom, cannot be a law over freedom ; that which gives and constitutes activity, cannot be a law over activity ; for a moral law over the mind implies the freedom and activity of the mind already complete. Conscience is a law over a mind already free, and not an element in an Otherwise incomplete or non-existent mind. Therefore the attempt to place the beginning. of the mind's activity in the conscience is doubly a failure. In none of these ways can the ndnd be found to have any freedom or real activity whatever. The beginning of its activity cannot be found in the will, the affections, or the conscience, or in any combination of any or all of them. n. The true source of the mind's activity is in its own essence, THE WILL. 21 in one of its own primal elements unborrowed from any outward or ad- ditional source, and uncompounded of any of its own faculties, but existing before them all, and the producer of them all. o. The essential activity of the mind, which is the true source of its own original, independent, and free action, lies deeper than the con- science, the affections, or the will, and is derived from neither of them, but exists before all of them, and is the cause of them. The mind must have a spring of action in itself, in its own essence, deeper than the will, the affections, or the conscience, and which must be before they can exist, and must act before they can act, and be the root and source of their essence and life. The clew and some showing of the true nature of liberty are here given, as the title intimates. That clew is the essential activity. SECT. III. HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO KNOW, OR WHAT IS THE TliUE NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS? a. That the mind's knowledge does not begin in the senses nor in the reason, is obvious from the fact that all systems of mental philosophy which proceed on either of these assumptions find themselves reasoning in a vicious circle, and ending in absurdity. b. 1. For, let it be supposed that our knowledge begins with the perceptions of the senses, and let it be undertaken from them 'to dis- cover the ideas of the reason, or any external object whatever, , we are instantly confronted with the fact, that we cannot have a perception through the senses at all, except through the medium of an idea already known, and in the possession of the mind ; for all knowing of external things consists simply in this; viz., the interpreting of a fact by an idea or a conception. We have no power, therefore, of knowing what a sensation is, except by means of an idea already in the mind with which to know it. c. As no one can translate a Latin word into English without first knowing both the English and the Latin, so no one can know what an unknown object is, which is presented by the perceptive faculty of the senses, i. e., physical resistance and the senses, without having an idea of the thing beforehand in the mind. Indeed, all we learn of an object by the senses, in the first instance, is, to use a paradox, what we knew of it before by the idea we already had in the mind. I must first have an idea of an object in my mind, before I can comprehend or translate the unknown phenomena of that object which the senses present to me. d. Thus, by beginning with the senses, the mind can, manifestly, never know anything ; no knowledge can ever find way into the mind in this manner. All that presents itself to any of the senses is an undis- criminated and unknown mass, a jargon, so to speak, of some unknown 22 AUTOLOGY. language, unless the corresponding ideas of these objects be already in the mind with which to translate these unknown things, and tell what they arc and what they mean. The senses, therefore, can never be made the starting-point of our knowing. We never can begin to know through them, but must already have a beginning of knowledge from some other source. e. We have stated that in order to translate one language into another, we musl first know both ; to knew eitheralone would not enable ii- to translate. If 1 should pronounce the word "horse" in the ears Of a German, and he should pronounce the word "Spferb" in my hear- in.:-, neither of us would have any knowledge of what the other had said; bul if a horse were standing in sight, and we each should point to it when we pronounced the name, we should each know what tho other meant. /'. .lust so something must stand between the object presented by the senses and the reason within. That something must be the idea of the thing thus presented ; and when the reason sees that the thing thus presented corresponds to thai idea, then it knows what it is, that is, knows all that it is capable of knowing ol anything without, further external experience; but without these ideas it can know absolutely nothing. Our knowing, therefore, can never begin in the senses; Cor we must have ideas before we can translate the senses; they can do nothing without the help of a higher faculty. y. •_'. Turning, then, from this method, let it be supposed that the attempt is mad.' to begi r knowing with the faculty of the Reason. A difficulty meets us at once : lor the Reason has neither facts nor ideas in itself, inn- in its possession, nor any power "1' obtaining them by its own proper faculty or force. The Reason can only form ideas from facts which are already, and beforehand, given to it by another faculty of the mind ;• or employ those ideas, when thus formed, in cognizing- external objects brought before it by the senses ; it has no power in itself, as a faculty, either to grasp a fact, or to create an idea without a fact. Knowing cannot, therefore, begin in the Keason. h. 3. But, relinquishing this method, let it be supposed that we attempt to begin our knowledge with what are called the a priori ideas, which are found already in the mind, such as quantity, quality; or relation, and with them stand ready to cognize any object or event that the per- ceptive faculty of the senses may bring before us. i. But here, again, we are met with a difficulty ; it is this : How can we have an idea without first having had a fact or thing? For an idea must be an idea of something ; if it be an idea of nothing, it is itself nothing. How can I have an idea of an object before I know what that object is ? It is absurd to say that I can have an idea of a thing without THE WILL. 23 which is substantially that thing. We have no more right to say that ideas of external facts or things are a part t»f the mind's original furniture, than to say that external facts or things themselves are a part of its original furniture. All the ground we have for saying either, is the fact that we find the mind in possession of ideas, and this may be affirmed of the one as well as of the other. The idealists do assume both. j. The question, however, is, How came we by them ? Now, which- soever of these methods we take, we are driven to reason in a circle ; either to assume the idea to prove the fact, or the fact to. prove the idea. If I start with the fact and seek the idea, I have already had and used the idea in finding the fact. If I start with the idea and seek the fact, I find I have already had and used the fact in obtaining the idea. k. Now, from neither of'- the above sources does it appear that the mind can know anything. It is perpetually moving round and round in a dizzy circle, seeking rest and finding none ; seeking to prove one illu- sion by another, each of which is ever slipping from its grasp, seeking an idea for a fact, and a fact for an idea, neither of which it can have without having had the other first, and neither of which can be given by its appropriate faculty ; that is, the senses alone cannot give a fact ; the reason alone cannot give an idea. There must first exist both a fact and an idea before any external thing can be known. I. It is manifest, therefore, that neither the senses alone, nor the reason alone, can ever begin to know anything, nor can they prove that the mind is competent to know anything whatever. Nor can they act together ; neither of them can act until the other has first acted. They cannot act simultaneously, for they each require the -product of the other's action before the}' can act ; the sense cannot act until there is first an idea ; the reason cannot act until there is first a fact; Neither, therefore, can produce these necessary things for the other, and, con- sequently, they can neither singly nor jointly begin to know anything. m. A higher and more ultimate faculty than either is necessary to enable the mind to begin to know anything. There is needed a faculty which has in itself a power of cognition without ideas, on the one hand, and without sense perceptions, on the other ; a primary and intuitive faculty, lying back of both the sense perception and the reason, and more central and ultimate than either, which shall be able to arrive at the results of both without the help of either. n. Such a faculty alone can be the starting-point of our knowledge : a faculty that can first give a fact without either an idea of the reason, or a perception of the senses, and thus give the basis of an idea also without a fact of the senses, is needed to qualify and furnish the mind with the means of knowing. And this will make the mind a complete 24 AUTOLOGY. knower, i. e., an originator of its own knowing- ; for the facts thus given by this deeper and more ultimate faculty will be the basis of the ideas of the reason known as, but misnamed, a priori, or innate idea's ; and the ideas thus attained will be the means of cognizing the facts presented by the souses. o. Thus can the mind begin to know, and thus only : to say that the mind can have a priori, or innate ideas born with it, or conceived by it, is absurd ; for an idea li ing, the knower knows the known without a medium ; in relative know- ing, the knower uses a medium through which, and by which, to cognize the known, which is always an object diverse from itself. s. It is not knowing by plurality and difference as. relates to the knower and the known, for here the knower knows simply the knower and the knowing ; it is a direct, positive, and absolute knowing, a knowing unconditionally. It is not even a mere personal knowing, for the same reason that its knowing does not depend on personal or any conditions, except existence, but is direct and absolute. The knower and the known are identical, so that the knowing faculty is in direct and immediate and unconditional contact with the object known ; that is, with itself. This is immediate, absolute, and unconditional know- ing ; and this is what is meant by being an independent knower, and being able to begin to know, and not simply a passive recipient of knowledge, or knowing simply what our peculiar organism might compel us to know. t. This first faculty for beginning to know, we shall more fully set forth in another place. It is sufficient here to have shown its exist- ence and necessity in our mental economy. And when we have thus found the true source of our beginning to know and of being able to know anything, and have fully brought out this primary faculty in its appropriate place, then we shall proceed to examine the nature and office of the reason in the formation of ideas, and the faculty and office of the senses in the perception of external objects, and the act of the reason in cognizing, remembering, arguing, imagining, and other acts. In this way we shall have gone over the whole of our intellectual structure, and pointed out its mechanism and operations, and have shown that the mind can know objects by its own intelligence, and is not a mere lens to transmit, or mirror to reflect, what is cast upon it, but is an independent and absolute knower. u. Thus is it manifest that in order to begin to act and begin to know, we need the two primordial elements of essential activity and essential intelligence or consciousness, and that we need them both ; for as consciousness alone cannot give activity to the mind, so also the ac- tivity cannot give intelligence to the mind ; but the two combining give the mind both ; both the intelligence and the activity ; and these are the original and primordial elements of its being, constituting the same essence, an essence both intelligent and active, conscious and alive. v. Essential intelligence or consciousness, and essential activity or life, are the true sources of the mind's knowing and acting. By them alone it can begin to know and begin to act ; without them, it could neither know nor act at all. Thus is the necessity, and thus is the nature, of the two elementary and constitutive principles of the mind 26 AUTOLOGY. Bhown and demonstrated. They are the true bases upoD which alone the superstructure of the mind can be built. They are the true starting- points of all investigations of.the mind, and the true stand-point from which to view the whole of our mental operations. w. What this consciousness is. and what this activity is. how they combine to constitute the self, giving self-consciousne6S, self-law, and liberty, thus making a will, and how they afterwards develop and -row. the one into the reason and the 3enses, and the other into. the affections, and both united into the conscience, and how the sell' thus takes on a voluntary, affectional, rational, and ethical nature, and thus i es a person and a soul, and in a physical body becomes buman and man, — all this will appear in the successive parts and chapters of this work. In the present chapter we seek only to disclose tin; first objects of our investigations; viz., the true bases upon which to con- struct tin- mind, ami the true stand-point from which to view all its operations. si i I IV. WHAT is Tin; FIRST OBJECT AND THE TRUE KEY OP ALL KNOWLEDGE, AND CAN THE MIND KNOW ABSOLUTELY AM) THE ABSOLU I i: : ■. The a isw< r to these questions lias already been given in the two preceding sections ; indeed, it was necessarily involved in them. Espe- cially was it impossible to answer the question, How can the mind be-in i,. know ? Without Showing that the sell' was the first object of knowing. />. In answer to thequestion, How can the mind begin to act? it was shown of necessity that it began in self-action. Self-acting and self- knowing are the beginning of the mind's living, and enter into and are of the essence of its being-. So important a part, however, does the first object of the mind's knowledge play, both in relation to the nature of the mind's knowing-, the extent of its knowledge, and the possibility of its knowing at all, that we deem it important to give it a more dis- tinct consideration. c. The error of mistaking that which is the first object of knowledge, is as fatal as that of mistaking the first act of knowledge. If the be- ginning of the mind's knowing be mistaken, all its acts of knowing will be mistaken. And if the first object of the mind's knowing be mista- ken, then will its kuowing of all objects be mistaken. What is the first action, and what is the first knowing, and what is the first object of knowledge, are questions involving each other, and which find their answers in the same thing ; viz., the mind itself. d. To the questions, then, What is the first object ? and What is th" THE WILL. 27 true key of knowledge ? the reply is this: The first object of knowl- edge is of necessity the self; for the first work of consciousness is to give the consciousness of a self, a self-consciousness. The beginning of all knowledge is thus, of necessity, subjective. The consciousness is in its first act conscious of a self, and conscious that it is conscious, affirming thus its own being and its own knowing. e. By uniting this essential consciousness with the essential activity, the whole self becomes both active and conscious; each penetrating the other, and both permeating the whole self, so that it becomes a living, conscious unity. Activity is the principle of life, and conscious- ness is the principle of intelligence ; they blend in one self, which is both living and intelligent ; and this is the first fact and the first object of all knowledge. f. By knowing first the self, i. e., himself, man has the test of all knowledge, and the key of all knowledge, and the power to know all things. It is because the consciousness takes cognizance of itself, and comes into immediate contact with the self, that it knows absolutely, and not merely relatively. The test of absolute knowing is the identity of the knower and the known. It is thus that it knows absolutely, and finds the self absolutely, as a thing existent alone, and that without discriminating it from anything else. g. In this way it is that the consciousness knows by the direct contact of its intelligence with the object known, and not by distinguishing plu- rality and difference. It knows directly and absolutely by the embrace and interpenetration of the object of knowledge by its own essential intelligence ; and this is knowing absolutely, and this is the test that the knowing is reliable. The self, then, is the first object of knowledge to the self. h. Man is to himself the first great object of knowledge, and this knowl- edge of himself is. to him the key to all knoivledge of God and nature. From this knowledge of himself, obtained by the knowingness of the consciousness, he has first facts, from which first facts the reason forms ideas. And this, as we shall see in Part III., is the true and only source of ideas. Then, with these ideas thus obtained, in first and actual pos- session, and armed with the organs of sense, the mind is qualified and prepared to go out and cognize the whole universe, both God and nature. i. Man is, then, the first great fact in the universe of God, and is both the key and the keystone to the arch of all knowledge. Let man first be known, as he necessarily must be, then have we the facts from which all conceptions and ideas are formed with which to interpret the universe presented to us by contact and the senses. j. Philosophers have often failed to know rightly either man, or God, 28 AITOLOGY. or nature, because they have employed the wrong fact as the starting- point, and as the explainer of them. They have cither taken nature, with which to lind out God and man, or God, with which to find out man and nature, and have failed, in both cases, so far as their method is con-* cerned, to find out anything, either of God, or nature, or man. h. They have taken the obscure with which to prove the plain, and the unknown with which to explain the known. Nature can never explain God, for they are unhomogeneous. Nature is thing, while God is person. So also Can nature never explain man for the same reason ; for man is person, while nature is but thing. No r can God be taken in the first instance to explain man or nature, because he is "unknown." He is an unknown quantity until firsl found oul ; ami hence all attempts to explain man's being or nature's existence by means of God's exist- ence, before God is legitimately found out and known to be, are built on a pure assumption. /. .Man is the first known quantity in the universe ; and with this known quantity first in possession, must we go out to find, know, aid explain the unknown. That unknown is God ami nature. Man is, as we have seen, of necessity the first objeel of knowledge, because the knowing faculty knows first itself, and its knowing; i. e., the con- sciousness is Conscious that it is conscious, and consciousness and activity, as the two primordial elements of the soul, mutually interpene- trate and encompass and pervade each other, and their working together is the vital and dynamical process by which the whole man is produced, in all his faculties, and embodied in senses. Thus is the whole per- sonality completed. m. The manhood thus generated, produced, and perfected, comes all at length into consciousness, and into perfect and complete knowledge, so that man knows himself. Then in full possession of this object of knowledge, with its will, affections, intellect, and conscience, as a living 1 , free, volitional, affectional, rational, and ethical personality, and with all the ideas which the reason forms from it, — ideas both of personality and of mere thing or nature (for man is both), — with all these as known quantities, as the things knowable and absolutely known, and belonging- to universal knowledge, man may go out from himself and cognize and explain the unknown God, and the unknown nature before him; God first, and nature afterwards ; for man, being more person than thing, is nearer God, and has more things in common with God than with nature, and more known things with which to know God than he has with which to know nature. n. God cannot be known until man is known ; nature cannot be known until both man and God are known. This is the grand proces- sion of knowledge: Man, God, nature. With man God can be found, THE WILL. 29 because man is homogeneous with God, partakes of the divine nature, and is in God's image. With God as man's author, as a known fact and an explaining power, man can know nature ; for nature is conditioned and dependent, and neither has anything in itself on which to depend, nor by which to go out from itself to find a cause upon which to depend. o. But man, though conditioned and dependent, and having nothing in himself or in his regressive generations on which to depend as a first and permanent cause, has yet in himself a free, affectional, rational, and ethical personality, with which to reach out and take hold on a free, affectional, rational, and ethical cause, creator and author. p. And thus man, who finds God as the creator of himself, finds God as the creator of nature also ; for surely the greater implies the less ; He that can create man can certainly create nature ; and man can know and explain nature only through God.' As he can find God through man, so he can find nature through God; and thus man is both the first object of all knowledge and the only true key to all and any knowledge of God and nature in the universe, rpcj&i OtavTOV is, then, in a sense in which neither its unknown Grecian author nor any succeeding Greek ever suspected, not only the greatest of all injunctions, but is the one test, and only true key, of all possible knowledge. SECT. V. THE VITAL AND DYNAMICAL PROCESS OF THE MIND'S DEVELOPMENT AND CONSTRUCTION. a. The vital and dynamical process is that combination, working together, and coalescence of the primordial and formative elements of the soul, by which its several faculties are produced and developed from the first to the last, from the essence to the last quality, from the will to the conscience. b. This process goes forward on this wise, to wit : the essential activ- ity and the essential intelligence combine and work together; the activity becoming intelligent, and the intelligence becoming active, to produce self-consciousness, the self, conscious that it is conscious. Then this self or individuality, as a distinct element, recombines with the original elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, and produces self-law, or end of action ; then this self-law, as a distinct element, recombines again with the original elements, activity and intelligence, and with the self, and produces liberty ; then liberty, as a distinct element, recombines. with the four preceding; viz., activity, intelligence, individuality, and self-law, and produces will, which is the essence, or substance, of the mind. c. Then out of this completed will, as essence or substance, spring at first from the essential activity the affections as qualities ; and then, 30 AUTOLOGY. from the essential intelligence springs the reason with the sense as a quality; arid lastly, from the essential activity and the essential intel- ligence, with all that they have gained by development, the one into affections and the other into intellect, is produced the conscience as the last and completing - faculty oi the mind. Here the activity and the intelligence cease to expand ami develop, because their work is done. All that was in them is embodied in a complete manhood and personality; and they cease, of course, just as the body, when all its members are produced, ceases to grow any more. '/. The mind as a whole then takes on the body as its lifting form, mould, and mode of being; and this it takes by its own vital force as a mind, just as the seeds of a tree or plant take each their fitting form or body." This is the vital, dynamical process by which the mind is produced, grows, takes en body, ami matures itself into completeness and personality. It is all a unity, and all produces one living, breath- ing- whole. The parts of the mind grow out of each other, and are one living, individual whole. Hence we call this system vital and dynamical. And we call it inductive, because, iii its construction, we first seek facts and experiments, and then baild upon them. CHAPTER II. TIIE SECOND GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT IS TIIE SUBSTANCE Oil ESSENCE OF TIIE MIND? SECT. I. CAN WE KNOW TIIE SUBSTANCE OF MATTER AND OF MIND? a. In this chapter we consider the mind as to substance and qualities, and show that the substance of the mind is essentially different from the substance of matter, and that the self, the self-conscious self, the ego, the me, the will, is the substance or essence of the mind, and. that it is a known substance or essence. b. "With regard to matter, we are said to know nothing directly and in the first instance but its qualities, and that because they are phenom- enal and cognizable by the senses, while the substance is not. And it is said that when we know these qualities, then we know more ; w r e know that they must necessarily inhere in some invisible and intangible sub- stance or essence, or they must be nothing but phantoms. A quality must be a quality of something ; for if it be a quality of nothing it THE WILL. 31 must itself be nothing 1 . But qualities are something, for the reason that they have substance. c. Moreover, as we perceive phenomena or qualities to have definite place and fixed time, we know they must have objective, reality ; and as they could not have definite place or fixed time unless they did actually ! inhere in a permanent substance, we therefore know by a judgment of our intellect that all qualities must have a substance ; and this cognition of the substance of things by the intellect is *just as certain and just as reliable as the perception of qualities by the senses, and the things we thus know are just as objectively real. For if the substance has not an objective reality, then the qualities cannot have an objective reality ; for our proof of the objective reality of phenomena lies in the fact of their having definite place and fixed time ; but these they could not have if they did not inhere in an objective and permanent substance. The fact, then, that qualities have definite place and fixed time is .proof that they have an objective and real substance in which they inhere. This is the usual argument, and is regarded as conclusive. d. But is it necessary ? Can we not know the substance of mate- rial and objective things directly, not of course by the senses, but by contact ? How know we the fact that qualities have fixed place and time ? Surely not by the senses, but by contact, a contact which demonstrates to us by experiment that well-known truism, that two objects cannot occupy one and the same place at one and the same time. Now, it is here not the qualities that resist lis, *but the substance. For we cannot know qualities except by sensation, which distin- guishes them ; but contact may be so sudden as not to wait for sensa- tion, or so violent as to destroy it altogether. Yet the assured experi- ment of a physical resistance demonstrating that two objects cannot occupy one and the same space at the same time, stands complete. e. It is, therefore, not the senses, but contact, that teaches us impene- trability ; nor is it the qualities of things that resist us, but their sub- stances, for as yet we have no knowledge that any qualities exist. They cannot be known until the contact is examined by the senses. Contact is produced by simple physical resistance, and this, indeed, is that which enables us to know that an object is now and here in fixed time and place. /. Thus the argument and the experiment prove the same thing. To say, therefore, on the one hand, that all that is knowable of any object, is its qualities, and then to say, on the other hand, that we can know nothing of objects but their qualities, are only two ways of utter- ing the same false and gratuitous assertion. This is simply making a definition beforehand to suit an assertion, and then making the assertion, both of which are false. It is simply self-stultification; for it. is not 32 AUTOLOGY. true thai we know nothing of objects but their qualities. It is not true that all the kuowable of any objecl is its qualities ; for we know the i mces also of both mind and matter, as we shall see. ]>o we, then, know what the Substance el' matter is ? We knew, at. least, this; that it is, and that it is a blind force, impenetrable, ami that it holds the qualities of matter in inherence; ami this we know by contact anil experiment, not waiting tor sensation or argument. g. 1. We now turn to the mind, and affirm that it must also he made up "I substances and qualities, lor the same reason that matter is so constituted. 2. Bui the question here arises. What is the substance, and what arc the qualities of the mind ? Are they the same as those of matter, or do they differ? 3. Do we know anything more of the mind than we do of matter? I. Eave we any means «,)' acquainting ourselves with mind which we have not of acquainting ourselves with matter ? h. These questions we shall now take up in order, beginning with the last, to wit : Have we any means of acquainting ourselves with the mind which we have not of knowing matter? i, '1'.. thi-- it is replied, We come to a knowledge of matter by contact ami experiment, and then by the faculties of sensation and reasoning; that i-. the soiis.-s and the intellect proper. These are the whole of our faculties for knowing either the qualities of matter or the substance of matter; that is, all our knowledge of matter must come through . j. But, for knowing the mind, we have the additional ami well- known faculty of consciousness ; and this consciousness brings us to a knowledge of the mind far more intimate and essential than can any of the other facultii k. It is true that consciousness takes cognizance of the action and of the reports of all the other faculties, and thus plays an essential part in all our knowing through all our faculties. But in knowing the mind, it performs, as we shall see, a work of its own, independent of the other faculties, and which it cannot perform in relation to any object out of itself. I. By consciousness man knows that he is a self, and becomes self- conscious. Consciousness is essentially self-seeing, sees the seeing and the seer. No other faculty could give us this knowledge and this self- consciousness, this seeing ourself, our own essence and substance. m. And this self-seeing it is which gives us the clearest mark by which the mind is distinguished from matter. This faculty gives us peculiar power in the investigation of the mind, and with it we proceed to the second point ; viz., What is the SUBSTANCE OF THE MIND ? THE WILL. 33 SECT. .II. IS THE SUBSTANCE OF THE MIND THE SAME AS THE SUBSTANCE OF MATTER? a. This interrogation raises the deeper question, What is substance, and how does substance differ from qualities ? b. The reply manifestly is, that substance is that which is essential to being. The substance of a thing is that which is essential to the be- ing of that thing. c. The qualities of a thing are things peculiar to it, yet which are not essential to its being. d. To speak of qualities without which a thing cannot be thought as existing, is to commit the absurdity of placing the qualities for the substance. The moment anything is regarded as essential to the nature and existence of a thing, that moment it becomes of the substance, and is not a quality of that thing. e. Now, the substance of matter, we know, must consist of these two things ; viz., impenetrability and essential force holding the qualities in inherence. These are the two elements of the substance or essence of matter, which are essential to its existence, and to the existence of qualities. f. When we speak of matter as a whole, we may say that, as a whole, both substance and qualities, it has impenetrability or irre- ducibleness, or it has that in it which prevents that two objects should occupy one and the same space at one and the same time, and that this is a primary quality of matter. g. This, however, is to give to a quality the nature of an essence or substance ; and hence, when we separate substance and quality we must say that substance is an impenetrable force, and that force and impenetrability are the elements of substance ; and we know this, not by reason, but by contact and sensation in experiment. h. These elements, as we shall more fully see hereafter, inhere in each other ; not in a substance lying deeper than they, but in each other. An essence or substance, as such, may have constituent ele- ments, though not constituent qualities, and these elements inhere, not in a substance, but in each other, and thus constitute the substance in which qualities inhere. A blind and essential force holding qualities in inherence and the essential impenetrability of nature constitute the sub- stance of matter, and this we know by experience in contact and sen- sation. i. Is the substance of the mind the same, or does it differ ? To this it is replied, that we know that the substance of the mind must be a force sufficient to hold the qualities of the mind in inherence, and that it must be impenetrable, just as we know the same things of matter ; but 5 34 AUTOLOGY. by the aid of the consciousness we kn >w more. By consciousness the mind knows that it is a self, that it is self-conscious, that it is conscioufl that it is conscious ; it knows that it knows. j. Now, in the 'two parts of this compound sentence — "I am con- scious that 1 am conscious " — we have the affirmation of a Belf-affirmed consciousness ami a self-affirmed substance, ami that this substance is a self-conscious sell'. Hero subject ami object, knowing ami being, meet ami are identical. L. Furthermore, this self must bo either the substance o\' the mint] in which qualities inhere, or it must be a quality of the mind inhering itself in some substance. Consciousness claims (he self as a substance, a %elf conscious substance in which the qualities of the mind info re. I. The substance of the mind differs therefore from the substance of nature in that it is a self-conscious substance ; a self, conscious that it is conscious, knowing that it knows; i. c, a self-seeing- essence, a self-know- ing substance. m. And what is here claimed by consciousness is confirmed by the decision of the reasoning faculty. For the self, of which we are con- scious, cannol be a quality of itself, for consciousness claims it as a whole self: nor can it be made up of any Dumber of qualities, or of all the qualities combined, for after the mind has awakened to the con- sciousness that it is a self, the qualities of such a mind might be increased indefinitely, or decreased to this single fact of consciousness, and still it would be a self, ■ r (hat it is conscious, knowing that it is, and knowing that it knows, a self-affirming substance, affirming both itself ami its quality of "being- conscious that it is conscious;'' its identity would still remain. n. An individual may lose his intelligence, his affectionateness, his moralization, his electiveness, and still retain his consciousness that ho is a self. He may, in other words, lose all his faculties, his intellect may be gone, his affections blunted, his conscience become inoperative, and his power of choice be altogether lost, yet still he will retain, in the fullest degree, his consciousness that he is a self; nay, his consciousness of his own individuality may be thereby increased. This is notoriously the case. Self-consciousness, eelf-conceit, and selfishness increase, as intelligence, and affection, and conscientiousness decrease. o. Moreover, it would be a contradiction in terms to affirm that the self could ever be an attribute or quality of the self; for a thing can never be its own quality. And observe, the consciousness here gives the self as a whole, as an entirety, and not as a 'part, and as a self< conscious whole, conscious that it is conscious. To say, therefore, that the self of which I am conscious, and which is conscious that it is con- scious, is a quality of a self of which I am not conscious, is absurd THE WILL. 35 The self, therefore, must be the essence or substance of the mind, a self- conscious essence, self-seeing 1 , conscious that it is conscious. It is emphatically and cleai-ly the me of which certain qualities may be affirmed ; the me which sees itself to be, before those qualities can be, and which continues when they are gone. p. Thus our self is the substance of the mind, and is that of which we become conscious originally by its own activity and intelligence, and chronologically to our recollections, it may be, by the perception of some external object. But this consciousness, we know, must have existed before such event did take place, and we know that without it it could not possibly have taken place, and we know that it, must remain also when such events and the occasion for them are passed away. q. The event of our perceiving an external object did not create our self-consciousness, nor can the non-occurrence of it take it away. It remains self-affirmed by a self-active, self-inteliigent self, conscious that it is conscious, affirming thereby both its own substance and its own primary quality. r. And let it here be particularly observed that if the consciousness does not see and know the essence of self as well as its qualities, then it affirms a falsehood. Now, the consciousness affirms self-consciousness; i. e., it sees itself; but if there is anything essential to the self which consciousness does not know while it claims to know the self, then in affirming that it knows the self as it does in the act of self-conscious- ness, it is guilty of falsehood. And certainly the essence of self is essential to self; how, then, can consciousness truthfully affirm self-con- sciousness without knowing the essence of self? s. Will it be said that we may truthfully affirm the existence of a thing by knowing only its qualities, without knowing its essence or substance ? It is replied, we may by using the faculty of reasoning-, which always infers a substance or essence where we find a quality. But in this case, we have only the consciousness at work which is incapable of reasoning, and knows directly and intuitively the things only with which it comes into immediate contact ; therefore the consciousness in affirming the self affirms only what it knows of its own proper knowledge, and in its own way of knowing ; and since it affirms the self, it affirms it as a matter of consciousness, and not of reason ; and since it affirms a self, it affirms a whole self, and not a part of one. t. It affirms therefore both essence and qualities, both the self and the essence of self, as well as the self and the qualities of self. For if the essence were not affirmed it would not be a self, and the conscious- ness in affirming it would be' guilty of falsehood. The veracity of con- sciousness is therefore pledged for the fact that the essence of the mind is a self, not only, but a known essence, a self-conscious essence, an 36 ' AUTOLOGY. ing itself. Consciousness, then, knows the self, both as Bab- stance and quality. • i. Furthermore, if the consciousness is qo1 self-seeing, how can the mind become a subject of knowledge to itself? how can it become its own object of thought and investigation? This question [Cant raises, and leaves as a great mystery; and well he might, for he denies «to the consciousness any other office than that of taking note of the opera- of the other faculties. But oven in this position he is self-contra- dictory, for he denies that the same consciousness which he holds to be reporter to the self, knows or can give any knowledge of the self to which it reports; nol Beeing that it could not cognize anything, until it first cognized itself as a cognizer, or report anything to itself until it had first reported itself as reporter to itself. r. That the consciousness should firsl Bee itself, before it can see anything else, and first reDort itself to itself before it can report any- thin-- else to itself, is here rery obvious. It is then proved by the fad of its seeing and reporting other things to itself, that it must first have seen and reported itself to itsi If to. Moreover this self-conscious self which is the substance or < of the mind lias also, as has the substance of matter, the elements of impenetrability. For, let two persons Bitting opposite each other be instantaneously disembodied ; let them stand as pure spirits; and the self-consciousness of the one would exclude and repel the self-conscious- f the other; they would still occupy space in relation to one another, and as pure spirits they would have mutual impenetrability just as much as when embodied. They would occupy space just as much in relation to all other realities as when they were human beings, having flesh, and bones, and blood. X. The same would be true of any two material forces which hold qualities in inherence. Take away the qualities and the forcfi remains, as over, impenetrable. Impenetrability is therefore not a quality of matter or of the mind, but is an element in the substance of each. SECT. III. IS THE SUBSTANCE OF THE MIND DISTINCT FROM THE QUALITIES OF THE MIND? a. By consciousness the mind knows itself, and knows its own pro- cesses ; and it must know each separately before it can know the relations that exist between them, and hence the self as substance must be con- scious of itself ' before it can be conscious of its qualities. b. The consciousness takes cognizance of the self immediately. It also takes cognizance of the action of all the faculties or qualities which inhere in the self, for " the faculties of the mind " is only another THE WILL. 37 name for the qualities of the mind. It takes cognizance also of all the knowledge which is attained by such qualities or faculties ; as, for instance, the act of perceiving an external object. c. By first knowing that we are a' self, we are able to know that the act of perceiving is referable to that self as the act of one of its own faculties or qualities, and that the knowledge thus attained is its own knowledge. d. The self is thus the substance in which the qualities or faculties inhere. A quality or faculty is only a part of me, and if lost is no part of me ; but the permanent and abiding substance in which all these qualities inhere, that is the essential me, the ego. or self. e. We then, know more of the substance of the mind than we do of the substance of matter, and can better distinguish it from its qualities. We know by experiment through contact aifd sensation, and also by the processes of the intellect, that the substance of the mind, like the sub- stance of matter, must be an impenetrable force, capable of holding its qualities in inherence. /. But by the aid of consciousness we know more. We know that the substance of the mind is a self-conscious substance or self, a self- conscious self; so that the consciousness by means of this self-conscious substance is capable of extending our knowledge beyond the limits of our other faculties in this direction ; and thus we know more of the mind than we do of matter, and find it to be totally different therefrom, both in qualities and in substance. We find by consciousness that the me, or self is the substance of the mind, and that all the qualities or faculties inhere in it as their substance. The substance of the mind is thus, manifestly, distinct and distinguishable from the qualities of the mind, and has an independent life which they neither give nor can extinguish. g. Will it here be objected that self-consciousness is a quality of the self, and that the self through it performs a function, that is, the function of being self-conscious, and that therefore the self cannot be the sub- stance or essence in which the qualities inhere? The reply is, first, that self-consciousness cannot by its own nature be a quality, but must be an essence ; for it is conscious of itself, and it is conscious that it is con- scious of itself, and this self-consciousness does not refer to any higher source, but directly and clearly to itself. h. It thus affirms itself necessarily as its own essence ; self-affirmation is the very nature of self-consciousness. The eye sees, but it does not see itself, nor does it affirm that it sees itself; but it affirms that it sees something out of itself and utterly distinct from itself. If it does not do this, it is no seeing at all, but only an illusion. On the contrary, self-consciousness is self-seeing in its own nature; and unless^' it sees itself it sees nothing; all is illusion. 38 AUTOLOGY. i. Therefore the self-consciousness affirms, directly ana necessarily, sence and substance of the self, and is nol a mere quality of the Belf affirming itself as a quality. The self affirms that it sees the self, and that it is conscious of seeing the self. The self sees the self, and it • aa1 it sees the self. j. Secondly, to the objection that self-consciousness is itself a quality self, and that the self through it performs ;i function, it is replied, that it is true also of the substance of matter that it performs a function, !■•!• it is a blind force holding the properties'of matter in inherence. This holding of the properties of matter in inherence is a function of the sub- Btance that so holds them. Hew then, we might ask, can this fprce be the substance that holds the qualities in inherence? It the objection is good in the one case, it is good in the other. But it is good against neither. The fact is, that the substance of matter is, in its own nature, a force, and holds by this force the qualities oJ matter in inherence; and bo also is the substance of the mind a force, a self-conscious force, /. it' it be said that force implies a something that has force, and that force is a quality of that something, bo be it. Still that something is it would not be a substance without this force, 01 without perform- ing the act of holding the qualities in inherence. Essence is force, and without this force and without using it thus, it would cease to be, I her. /. Just BO Of the sid. stance of the mind. It is a foive, a sell'-cnn- Bcious force. It is a self, and is conscious thai it is a self; and it, like ibstance of matter, is a force holding- the qualities of the mind in inherence. Without this it could not be a substance at all ; it would be nothing. But if the quality of force, and the function of holding the other qualities of the mind in inherence, do nol destroy its nature- as a Bubstance, how shall the consciousness, and the function of being con- scious that it is conscious, and conscious that it is a force thus holding the qualities of the mind in inherence, destroy its nature as a substance ? Manifestly it does not. in. Now, consciousness penetrates and permeates this force that holds the qualities of the mind in inherence, and renders it both luminous, and intelligible, and intelligent; and this self-consciousness it is, that adds the peculiar characteristic to the substance of the mind, as distinguished from the substance of matter. a. Mind and matter, let it never be forgotten, are essentially different and distinct from each other, both in substance and in qualities ; for the mipd has in it spirit, life, and force, while matter has in it only force. The substance of the mind is also a self-conscious spirit, life, and force, a self which holds the faculties of the mind in conscious inherence, while the substance of matter is a mere unconscious force. Obviously, THE WILL. 39 therefore, the substance of the mind is not only cognizable, but distin- guishable from the faculties that inhere in it. SECT. IV. THE DIFFEKENCE BETWEEN QUALITIES AND FACULTIES OF THE MIND. H a. At first thought there would seem to be a real difference not only, but the difference of quality and quantity. On closer examination, how- ever, it appears to vanish, or be only nominal. If I say of. the mind, that it is voluntary, that it is affectional, that it is intelligent, that it is moral, I very clearly speak of qualities. But if I say of the same mind, and in allusion to the same thing, that it has affections, intellect, and con- science, I speak of faculties, or constituents of the mind which make up its quantity rather than its quality. 6. If I say of the will that it is arbitrary, of the affections that they are pure, of the intellect that it is clear, of the conscience that it is ten- der, I speak of qualities in these faculties. If I say of the whole man, that he is a man of strong and resolute will, of a clear head, of a kind heart, of a pure conscience, I speak of qualities in the man. It is obvious, therefore, that we may treat the faculties of the mind as qualities or con- stituents, inhering in the self as its centre, essence, or substance, the distinction of faculty and quality, or of constituent and quality, being in this respect not very distinctly marked. c. The question as to whether a property of the mind is to be re- garded as a quality or a faculty depends altogether on the light in which, for the time being, we are considering it. When we regard it as a quality, we look at the mind as a whole, in which it inheres and through which it is diffused as a whole. When we regard the same thing as a faculty, we consider it as a constituent, a part of a whole, separate, and going to make up the whole as a quantity. As faculties or constituents we should range them under the head or category of Quantity, and con- sider them as a unity, plurality, and totality. As quantities we should of course range them under the head or category of Quality, as reality, particularity, peculiarity. They are manifestly both or either, and may be treated as such. d. Just as the affections, when considered as a whole, as one mass, may be regarded as having the qualities of desirefulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness, — or when analyzed may be regarded as having the several constituents of desire- fulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reveren- tialness, as separate faculties of affection, and parts making up the one whole of the affectional nature as a quantity, — so may the faculty of the mind be treated. 40 AUTOLOCY. - . W"e say, therefore, that the self is the centre and substance or< of the mind, aud shall hereafter show thai this self is identical with the will, and that thus the will or self is the essence or substance of the mind in which all the faculties inhere as qualities in a substance, or as constituents in a common centre. /. We shall first analy/.c and explain the will as centre and substance of the mind ; then will come the affections, intellect, and conscience, as qualities or faculties inhering in it. and while distinct, commingling as one whole. To say that the mind has the faculty of knowing, or the quality of intelligence, is one and the same thing, To say that the mind has the faculty of affection, or the quality of feeling, is one and the same thing-. To say that the mind has the faculty of conscience or the quality of discerning and being affected by mural differences, is the same thing. We therefore hold that it is both correct and intelligible to call the faculties of the mind the qualities of the mind, and to regard them as inhering in the self as the substance of the mind. The faculties of the mind are all distinguishable, but net separable; they constitute but one whole, whether as substance and qualities, or as substance and constituents, or as centre and faculties. Holding, then, the self as centre, substance, or essence of the mind, and identical with the will, as we shall soon see, and the affections, intellect, and conscience, as faculties or qualities, constituents or properties inhering in it and constituting 1 one whole, and to be treated a- such, and all to be regarded as of one unity, inseparable though distinguishable, deriving their life from one centre and spring, the Belf, or will, we come, in the next place, to consider the difference between qualities and elements. SECT. V. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN QUALITIES AND ELEMENTS. a. Qualities inhere in a substance lying beneath and supporting them as a higher unity. Elements inhere in each other, and not in any deeper lying substance. b. But this distinction needs to be more fully considered. As the self has force, and consciousness, and other elements, as .we shall hereafter find, and as it performs various functions by means of these elements, must it not itself have a substance, which would be a sub-substance in which these elements must inhere ? It is replied, that these elements inhere in each other. They are not qualities, but ele- ments; and all elements are mutually inherent, and do not inhere in a common substance. This distinction is of the greatest importance, and goes to the very centre of this subject not only, but of all philosophy. c. This would be found true also of the substance of matter as well as of the substance of the mind. But our only means of knowing THE WILL. 41 what tlie substance of matter is, is contact and sensation ; the one showing substance, and the other the qualities which inhere in it, and the reason inferring substance where there is quality ; whereas of the mind we know what are the elements of its substance by means of consciousness, which is itself an element of the substance of the mind ; and being in itself essentially intelligent, that is, conscious that it is conscious, it must of necessity, as it permeates the other elements of the substance also, not only know itself, but give a knowledge also of all the elements of the substance of the mind ; and it knows the substance of the mind to be essentially active or alive, and essentially intelligent or conscious. d. Thus we see that the mind is not to, be judged of or explained according to the analogies of matter ; that it is altogether out of the world of matter, and that the substance of the mind is in kind totally and generically different from the substance of matter. It is in no respect like it, though the relation of the substance to the qualities of the mind is analogous to that of the substance of matter to the qualities of mat- ter. The mind is no part of nature, and is not at all subject to its laws. Both its substance and its qualities are sui generis, and what might be a contradiction in nature is a harmony in the mind. e. That the essence of the mind is alive and is conscious, is that which distinguishes it from the essence of matter; it must be alive and conscious, or it cannot exist at all. This is the difference between spirit and nature ; and the mind is spirit, and not nature, nor of nature, but of God, who is a spirit. It is sufficient here to establish the distinct being of the self as sub- stance of the jnind, and the relation between it and the qualities or fac- ulties of the mind ; for by the qualities we mean the faculties. /. The self is the centre and substance of the mind ; all the faculties spring out of it and inhere in it, and the relation is precisely that of substance and quality. The fact that the substance of the mind is alive, a self-conscious self or force, and that the qualities of the mind are faculties, such as reason, affections, conscience, does not alter this rela- tion. We set down the self or will as the substance of the mind, hav- ing primal elements, as activity and consciousness, and also the power of holding the faculties of reason, affection, and conscience in inherence in it as qualities. And we shall pursue this discussion according to this division. The importance and value of this classification, and of the distinctions which it makes, will appear more fully when we come to take up the faculties of the mind separately. g. The mind, though thus made up, is still a unit, and though a unit, is still made up of many faculties, capable of performing various func- tions, and all centring in one and the same substance or self. 42 AUTOLOGY. h. We regard it as more intelligible, and more philosophically correct, to speak of the mind as made up of different faculties, and of the oper- ations of the mind as performed by these various faculties that inhere in the one self or common substance of the mind, than to speak of the one indivisible mind in different states ; though the mind is, in either case, the one indivisible unity in being and in action. SECT. VI. CONCLUSION. a. We shall now proceed to analyze the self, which we have found to be the substance of the mind, and to find of what elements it is composed, and how it develops itself into a complete will. We have already discerned that it has the elements of activity and consciousness. These and other elements we shall investigate more fully in the next chapter, especially in Chapters V. and VI., and en- deavor to define them more clearly, and to ascertain how they are com- bined, so as to constitute a complete will, and especially how all the elements of the self inhere in each other, and not in any unknown sub- stance, and also what important functions this self may perform, as substance and will, by its own power and in its own right, in the econ- omy of the mind, over and above holding the faculties of the mind in inherence and taking note of what they do. b. - Our first inquiry will be this : What is the relation of this self, which we have now discovered to be the substance of the mind, to the will ? In order to this, we shall first find what the act of choice is, and what faculty of the mind it is that performs it. c. That we may do this, we shall examine the whole mental process that precedes and leads to the act of choice, and mark the nature of the steps taken in this process, and the faculties by which they are taken, that we may come to the act of choice itself, and the faculty that per- forms it, and make them stand out distinctly before the mind. d. After making this detour of investigation, we shall find ourselves led by it back to the point arrived at in the investigations of this chap- ter, and shall then, with additional light, proceed to investigate the will and its elements, and to learn more fully its nature and office. THE WILL. , 43 CHAPTER III. THE THIRD GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS] WHAT IS CHOICE? • SECT. I. WHAT IS THE PEOCESS AND WHAT AEE THE ANTECEDENTS TO CHOICE? a. The inquiry of this chapter is, What is choice ? This question leads to the next : — With what faculty is choice performed ? In order to answer this latter question we must first answer the former : — What is choice ? This we shall now attempt to do in two sections. Sect. 1. What are the process and antecedents to choice ? Sect. 2.' What is the act itself of choice ? b. Beginning- with the first, we inquire, What is the process and what are the antecedents to choice ? In order to answer this question intel- ligently, it will be necessary to separate the act of choice from all the other acts of the mind ; and thus, by eliminating it from them, we may ascertain what the particular act of choice is, what its nature is, and what faculty of the mind it is that performs it, and what kind of a faculty that must be which can thus choose. c. To effect this separation of the act of choice from all others, it will be necessary to draw out at length the whole of the mental process preceding and terminating in the act of choice. Thus will both the act and the faculty of choice be disclosed. We shall then be prepared to answer the question of the next chapter; viz., With what faculty is the act of choice performed ? Is it performed by the self, or substance, or essence of the mind, or by some faculty or quality inhering in that self, substance, or essence? d. What, then, are the mental steps by which we come to the act of choice ? Any attentive observer of the process by which an act of choice is finally reached, and of the conditions under which it is put forth, cannot fail to mark these several steps : — 1. A sensation. 5. A moralizing. 2. A cognition. 6. A selecting. 3. An affection. • 7. A choosing. 4. A judging. e. Each of these is a separate act of the mind, or class of acts, and each is performed by a distinct faculty of the mind. Of each of 44 AUTOLOGY. these acts the mind is distinctly conscious in a full and complete process, through all the mental steps antecedent to choice, and including it ; although in some instances the nature of the object of choice may not call all these antecedents into action, and although different objects of choice will call out the action of different faculties according to their nature. /. Now, as the mind is conscious of sensating an object of choice brought before it, so also is it of cognizing it, and as of cognizing, so also of affectioning it, that is, of feeling some sort of affection or emotion with regard to it. These affections are individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, ses- thetical, and religious, and the emotion with regard to the object is correspondent to them respectively, according to the object of choice presented. And as the mind is thus conscious of affectioning its object according to its nature, so is it also conscious of judging of an object in relation to any one of these affections, when that object is brought before it. And as of judging, so also is the mind conscious of moral- izing as to the right or wrong of the act of choosing it. And as of this, so also is it conscious of selecting an object of choice, and setting it out distinctly before the mind in all its properties and relations, as the thing, on the whole, best to be chosen ; and, last of all, the mind is conscious, of choosing. g. The evidence of each of these acts of the mind in the process anteceding the act of choice, and of the act of choice itself, and of their being distinct and different from each other, is alike in the consciousness and in the reason, whose testimony may be consulted by all, and put to the severest test of experiment. We sensate and cognize one or more objects of choice ; we are conscious of some affection or emotion favorable or unfavorable with regard to them ; we pause and judge in view of these affections ; we then moralize as to the right or wrong of the proposed act of choice, and feel an enjoining or a protesting of the conscience with regard to it ; we then select the object of choice, and separate it from all others, and set it out before the whole mind, as having been decided upon, as, on the whole, the thing to be chosen ; we then choose the object thus selected, after the selecting and all the preceding acts of the mind have been performed as complete and distinct acts. h. This is the complete process anteceding and including the act of choice drawn out in detail. It is always passed through in every act of choice, though often our mental processes are so quick and our combinations so rapid, that we do not mark their various and successive steps. And, indeed, there may be some acts of passionate precipitancy, or of indolent inadvertency, which, while they involve us in the con- THE WILL. 45 sequences, have yet not the characteristics of a deliberate act of choice. We may not be conscious of taking each successive and distinct step in the process, yet we have taken them, and are responsible for such acts of choice ; not because they are, but because they might have been, and ought to have been, deliberate acts of choice ; and with all their precip- itancy, or heedlessness, if analyzed, there might be discovered even in them the real, though fleeting, traces of all the steps in the process of deliberate choice. i. Having the facts and history of the whole process of choice in its separate steps as they appear severally and concretely in conscious- ness and experience before us, we propose now to examine them more minutely, and thus ascertain the reason of each step, and that in which the act itself of choice consists, and also to what faculties of the mind each of them must be referred. j. The object of this examination is to ascertain that in which the act of choice consists, and What faculty chooses, and whether either the act or faculty of choice is found at all until we come to the last step in the process that terminates in choice. k. When it is thus ascertained that the act and the faculty of choice are different and distinct from all other acts and faculties of the mind, then we shall be prepared to analyze the act and the faculty of choice itself, and from it as a centre we shall then examine all the other acts and faculties of the mind, and thus complete the subject in one whole mental system. I. It is intended also in this chapter to examine, so far as may be necessary, the several steps in the process of choice, in order to show the faculties that take them, and what the steps themselves really are, and thus come clearly and intelligently to the act and faculty of choice. The full and complete discussion, however, of these acts and facul- ties, and their relations and functions, will come up in its proper place after we have found what the will is, and what choice is, and are pre- pared to take up the faculties in the order of the mind's construction. m. In this chapter we are in search of the act of choice, and wish to take the most direct route to find it. When we have found it we shall be able to find the will, which performs the act of choice, and which we shall take as the centre and starting-point of mental science. In the mean time, and in order to find the will, we must discover, discuss, and define the antecedent acts of the mind and the faculties that perform them, sufficiently to distinguish them and be guided by them to the will and the act of choice, and to discriminate it from all the other acts of the mind. 46 AUTOLOGY. PROCESS TO CHOICE. a. The first step in the process to choice is the act of sensating. By sensation we are brought into contact with the external object of choice. The act of sensating is done by the senses. They make us aware of the presence of the object, and by their nature act of necessity and without choice. Our senses are adapted to their respective objects, and are pleased or offended by them instinctively, and receive or reject them without volition accordingly. b. Secondly, we cognize the object thus brought before us. This act of cognizing is done by the reason through the medium of ideas, and is also involuntary. The reason has no choice but to cognize the facts brought before it, just as they are. It would not act truthfully if it' should not thus act ; it is shut up to the facts before it, and is com- pelled by its own nature to report accordingly, having by its own nature and office no choice in the matter. c. These are well-known acts and faculties of the human mind which we do not here discuss at large ; they will be fully examined in their proper place. Here they are noted as steps in the process to choice, as wholly separate from it, and not at all acts of choice. To feel a sensation of an object is not to choose it, to cognize an object and to know what it is, is not to choose it, although these acts of the mind necessarily precede the act of choice. The object thus cognized is not chosen, but simply known and thrown back upon the affections. d. Thus are the first and the second steps in the process towards choice taken, and it is manifest that the quickest sensation of an object, and the minutest intellectual examination, and the clearest cognition of an object, are not a choice of it ; and also, that if no other faculty than the senses and the intellect be employed, there will be no action taken with regard to it. The mind will be unmoved with the simple knowl- edge of an object before it. This knowledge it hands back to the. affec- tions, and they are moved by it ; and this brings us to the third step in the process of choice ; viz., affectioning, performed by the affections. e. We use the term Affections, to denote both those states of the sus- ceptible or emotive nature into which the mind is* thrown by the per- ception of an object with regard to which choice is to be made, and the several capacities for having such states. There would never be an act of choice unless something were craved or loathed. The susceptibilities affection or disaffection something before there can be anything to choose. This is done by the affections, which may be divided into individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic aesthetic, and religious affections. THE WILL. 47 /. These Affections are our susceptibilities to pleasure and pain, and are that part of our nature that renders us impressible by objects with- out, or thoughts within, or of taking any interest in anything whatever beyond our animal nature. They are, in short, the different modes by which we are rendered capable of well-being or of ill-being, and both as states and faculties are the constant objects of choice to the will. They act spontaneously, appetitively, and emotively. They have a craving for the objects adapted to .their gratification, and an aversion to those which are not. They do not act deliberately or electively, but cravingly. They spring forth on coming into contact with their appropriate objects, and impel to their attainment. Their acts are therefore not' choices, but cravings ; not decisions, but clamors. g. They have no capabilities for different or opposite ends, and there- fore cannot choose ; they can act only in one direction. As air rushes to a vacuum, as appetite to its food, so the affections run towards their appropriate objects without reason or liberty, or any alternative. They, therefore, cannot, and do not, choose, but are simply mono-active, and move only as they are affected or disaffected, as they crave or as they loathe an object. As yet no choice is made, or can be made ; the affec- tions have no power of choice ; and this will appear to be. none the less true when we consider the affections, not simply as a whole, but in their several classes. h. The object of choice, when cognized, may be considered as thrown on to the different classes of affections successively. It first falls upon the individual affections, whose office it is to support and defend the self. They include the appetites as well as the affections of the mind, and may be called self-sustentative, defensive, acquisitive, annuncia- tive. They all act, not electively, but appetitively and cravingly, and are involuntary, being incapable of any other action than the one of craving or loathing an object ; their acts are not choices, but wants longing for gratification. These faculties neither reason nor choose-, but only hunger or crave, and run towards their objects as roots seek moisture, and leaves seek sunlight ; they are wholly involuntary and necessary, and not free in their action. i. We come next to the social affections. These include all marital, kindred, and amical affections ; and though higher in their order in the scale of being than the preceding class, are still of the same nature • They neither reason nor choose, but act instinctively and involuntarily A mother's heart does not choose to love her child, but would love il even if she did not choose to ; so of all these affections. ■ j. In like manner, the patriotic affections. In these, regard is hac to public good chiefly, and the mind is interested in that which is o" 48 AUTOLOGY. advantage as a work of public utility and improvement. They may be classified as raceal, local, cultal, and national affections. They are found, in a large degree, in clansmen, leaders, preachers, rulers, who are called public-spirited, and have often great zeal for race and country, and in promoting schools, roads, agriculture, and mechanics. They are higher than the individual and social, but lower than the philan- thropic ; they are not free actions, but involuntary cravings or emotions. They are 'instinctive, and not elective. To feel interested in a matter of public good, to be affected by it, is not to choose it. k. So also the philanthropic affections. The objects of these are still higher and 'broader than those of the patriotic affections. They seek to promote public good, not only in clan and country, but to relieve human evils, and remove human suffering, and promote human weal everywhere, and consequently are divided into two classes, the humane and the utile. The humane seek the promotion of disinterested good ; the utile seek mutual good. Mere utility always contemplates some- what of self ; humane affections look only to others. Yet these affec- tions, though worthy and good, are only instinctive and involuntary. A heart that delights in doing good to others is a good heart, yet its actions are impulses, not choices. These affections have no power of "choice, no freedom of action ; like the preceding, they crave and repel "involuntarily, but can put forth no act of free election with regard to an object. I. We next come to the cesthetical affections. These are, perhaps, higher intellectually than the philanthropic affections, as they are allied with genius and beauty; but morally they are not so high. They have three classes ; viz., playful imitativeness, ideal creativeness, depreciative sportiveness. They are, in fact, purely selfial, and contemplate neither good nor evil to any one. They are without character as to right or wrong, and regard objects only as to beauty and deformity, fitness and taste. These affections are the susceptibilities to beauty, and are acted upon by the objects presented. But these affections are involuntary ; they act impulsively and cravingly, and cannot choose. To be im- pressed with beauty or deformity, and to be pleased with the one or offended with the other, is certainly not choosing it or refusing it, but only experiencing certain emotions with regard to it. Our sesthetical nature, like the rest of our affectional nature, is an involuntary suscep- tibility, and does not choose, but only craves and desires, and is gratified by its object, or pained by that which is repugnant to it. It never chooses, nor can choose, for it is capable of being gratified with but one thing, and that is its own homogeneous object. m. We come last to the religious affections. These make us suscep- tible to devotion, reverence, and worship towards superiors, and are . THE WILL. 49 placed highest, because they contemplate the highest objects ; viz., God and the highest rational and moral beings. These affections have six classes, contemplating, 1. Spiritual wants. 2. Faith in God. 3. Hope of immortality. 4. Anticipativeness of future happiness. 5. Divine assimilation. 6. Devotion to the divine. They are, like all other affections, involuntary and spontaneous, not choices, but simply cravings and emotions that go out after their appro- priate objects, and are incapable of any free action. To feel veneration or awe is involuntary, and not matter of choice. n. 1. The next step in the process to choice is judging. This act is performed by the intellect, and as in the act of cognition, so in judging, the intellect does not and cannot choose. Its office here is to judge of an object of choice as to its various qualities. « 2. It judges of the qualities of the objects of choice brought before us, as to their profit or loss, affinity or opposition, their usefulness or 'injuriousness, their benevolence or malignity, their beauty or deformity, but does not choose them or refuse them ; it barely pronounces judg- ment as to what they are and what are their tendencies. 3. It also sits in judgment on the claims of the several affections as opposed to each other, and decides as to their respective degrees of value and desirableness in view of pleasure and pain, profit and loss. 4. Now, it is manifest that this decision with regard to the quality of an object, or course of action, is not a choice of it. Certainly I may decide that a thing is safe or unsafe, without choosing it ; that it is use- ful, benevolent, or beautiful, without choosing it. I may decide that it would be very advantageous to me, without choosing it. Indeed the intellect cannot choose at all; it is shut up to the laws of its own intelligence, and, if true to itself, it must act precisely as its own powers compelit to act. Like pure glass, it must transmit unaltered; or like a just balance, it must weigh what falls upon it. 5. To do anything else would show it a defective intellect, and not a sound one. Its action is therefore involuntary, and respects the quality of objects, and not any personal relation to them. To judge of a thing, and to choose that thing as our own; to judge of a course of life, and to choose that course of life as our own, are very different things. No choice is made by any such judgment. The act of choice is not yet found. o. We come, therefore, to the next step in the process to choice, — moralizing. By moralizing we discover the moral quality of any act of choice. This step in the process to choice is taken by the conscience, and as an act it differs from all other acts of the mind in that it regards not the object chosen, but the act of choosing it. And of this it affirms simply that.it is right or wrong. It pays no regard to the object of 1 50 AUTOLOGY.. choice, whether it be a thing or an act, but simply to the act of choos- ing ; and this it decides to be right or wrong, whether the thing chosen be actually taken or done, or not. The bare choosing of it is either right or wrong. Conscience does not choose, but gives a judgment upon an act of choice as to whether it is right or wrong. The act of choice is a thing not only distinct and different from the act of conscience, but presupposed by it. We do not moralize to make a choice, but we moralize about a choice already made, or which we contemplate making. We have not, therefore, as yet found the act or the faculty of choice. p. 1. We now come to the next and last act of the mind preceding choice; that of selecting. This act of the mind is performed by the in- tellect, the self-same intellect which we have already seen to be incapable of voluntary actio* or choosing. 2. The intellect selects the object of choice as a "last judgment of the understanding; " but this selecting is not at all choosing. After sensa- tion and cognition, after the individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, Eesthetical, and religious affections have each been moved by the object of choice ; after the intellect has judged of the object in relation to all these affections, and pronounced its judgment ; after the conscience has moralized upon the act of choice as to right and wrong, — then again, and last before the act of choice, the intellect selects the object to be chosen, selects it in view of all the facts which the preceding mental operations have brought before it, and as the result of their operations. 3. By this act of selecting the object of choice, it is made to stand out, defined, separated, and known, before the whole mind, having been handled and examined by all its faculties thus far in the process to choice ; and it is now selected by the intellect as on the whole the best, fittest, and worthiest object of choice to be presented to the choosing faculty in order to be chosen or refused by it. 4. So far the object of choice has passed the ordeal of the other faculties of the mind; it now has arrived at the throne of choice, to be chosen or refused by the faculty of choice. This act of selecting is not a choice ; it is a mere presentation of an object at court by the intellect as' a minister, to be chosen or refused by the power sitting on the throne. 5. That the act of selecting is not a choice, will abundantly appear when we consider the nature of the intellect itself as already men- tioned, and also when we come to analyze the act of choice. It is not the choice of an object, but the bare working out of an intellectual problem, the balancing of all possible considerations, for and against, that may come before the mind as it weighs them in the scales of all the affections, the intellect, and the conscience, and throwing all the light possible upon them, and comes to a conclusion with regard to THE WILL. 51 the object thus examined. This, in fact, is only completing the mind's knowledge of the object before it ; for up to this point the object is not known, and could not therefore be an object of intelligent choice. 6. The steps thus far taken are only the several means of investigat- ing, testing, and finding out, and exposing the nature, and qualities, and tendencies of the object of choice ; they are not at all choices of it ; as yet it is only ascertained what the object is, and it is only selected as the best object of choice, the thing best adapted to be chosen if any choice shall ever be made. Up to this point the mind sensates, cognizes, affections, judges, moralizes, selects ; neither of these is an act of choice; all of them together are not an act of choice. They have neither singly nor in combination any power of choice. *J. To sensate an object by the senses is not to choose it ; to cog- nize an object by the intellect is not to choose it ; to affection an object by any of the affections, or all of them, is not to choose it ; to be moved with individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, sesthetical, or re- ligious sentiments or emotions, is surely not to choose. To judge of all these emotions and their objects is surely not to choose them, but only to form a judgment about them, and as to the claims of these several affections. To moralize as to the right or wrong of. an act of choice is certainly not to make that choice ; and lastly, to select that object as, on the whole, the best object to be chosen, is not to choose it. 8. To decide to do a thing is not to do it. To decide that it is best to choose is not to choose; it is only settling what is, on the whole, the best and fittest thing to be chosen, giving our judgment of an object of choice as a mere involuntary, intellectual decision. It is a mental judgment, not a choice. It is a selecting of an object by the intellect, to be thereafter chosen or rejected by the choosing faculty, and nothing more. 9. And of all these operations of the mind anteceding choice, it must be observed they are not free actions ; they are involuntary acts of the mind. The sensation of an object is not a thing that can be or cannot be, according to pleasure, but must be, when the occasion for it exists. The cognition of an object also is involuntary ; the intellect cannot hinder or change it. The intellectual faculty acts mechanically, and not electively ; it cannot help knowing what it does know. So of the affections ; they act spontaneously, and not choosingly, and only in one direction. They have no liberty. 10. The laws of utility, benevolence, aesthetics, and of morality, as these lie in their corresponding affections, are all necessary laws. They have no freedom, no alternative action. In their nature, the senses, the intellect, the affections, and the conscience are all bound, and act 52 AUTOLOGY. according to their' nature, without liberty, but simply with spontaneity. They are by nature incapable of choosing. 11. And thus we complete the last step in the process to choice, and come to the act itself of choosing. We have been more explicit and minute in detailing this process in order to make it clear that the act of choice and the faculty of choice are both separate and distinct from any of those acts or faculties found in -the process to choice, and having thus disentangled the act and 'faculty of choice from all others with which they might be confounded, we shall now proceed to examine them — the first in the next section, and the second in the next chapter. SECT. II. WHAT IS THE ACT ITSELF OF CHOICE? a. Having completed the process to choice by taking and examining its successive steps, we now come to the act itself of choosing. The act of choice is. performed by the will. b. The inquiry now is, What is the nature of the faculty that chooses ? What does the will do in the act of choice ? It does not sensate ; that is done by the senses : it does not cognize ; that is done by the intellect : it does not crave or loathe an object of choice ; that is done by the affections : it does not judge of the nature, or value, or qualities of an object ; that is done by the intellect : it does not moralize on the right and wrong of an object, or of an act of choice ; that is done by the con- science : it does not select the object to be chosen or to be refused, and • set it out distinct and defined, known and discriminated from all others, and thus made ready, after passing under the review of all the other faculties, to be chosen or refused by the will; for this act of selecting has already been done by the intellect. c. What, then, does the will do in the act of choice ? The reply is, that it chooses, nothing more, nothing less. It chooses or refuses, and if the will refuses, still it chooses, for the act either of choosing or refusing is still a positive act of the will, choosing something in each case. What, then, is choosing ? If it is not sensating, nor cognizing, nor affectioning, nor judging, nor moralizing, nor selecting, nor any combi- nation of all or any of these acts of the mind, then what is it ? d. What is choosing ? Choosing is giving the consent of the self to the object of choice. In other words, and more fully, choosing is that act of the will or self which first announces and then disposes of itself to the object of choice, or choosing is an authoritative act exercised in disposing of the author of that act. Self-disposition is, therefore, the essence of choice. e. By the act of choice, the me, the self, the ego, is committed to some thing, or act, which may be, for the time, one of any number of objects of choice. THE WILL. 53 /. In this act the ego, or self, is committed and assumes the responsi- bility, makes itself answerable, and feels that it must abide the con- sequences, g. Now this characteristic of the act of choice shows it to be different from all other acts of the mind ; for we may sensate ever so clearly, cognize ever so distinctly, affection ever so strongly, judge ever so accu- rately, moralize ever so purely, select ever so discriminatingly the object of choice, still we do not thereby at all commit ourselves, or dispose of the self or the me. We only thereby come to a knowledge of the object of choice, nothing more. h. But when we choose an object, then are we committed to it and responsible for it. Surely when we sensate an object, we are thereby only made aware that something is present, and when we cognize an object, we only know what it is ; these mental acts do not commit us, or make us responsible. i. 1. The same characteristic of the act of choice shows it to be dif- ferent also from all acts of the affections. The affections, whether individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, gesthetical, or religious, crave a gratification adapted to their nature, and go out spontaneously towards objects which will produce such gratification; but simply being con- scious of this craving for a natural and legitimate object of any of , the affections, does not commit the self to, or make it responsible for, that which it craves, and which is by nature adapted to its gratification, unless the will, by an act of choice, adopts these cravings. 2. The natural and spontaneous action of any of our natural capabili- ties of enjoying an object of choice, whether individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, sesthetical, or religious, by which these affections simply show that they have being and life, and what they are, but do not gratify themselves, does not incur responsibility any more than does pulsation or digestion. We may feel conscious of the possession of all these capabilities and of their cravings, and yet feel conscious that the I, the self, is not at all implicated in them, or committed or respon- sible for them. 3. But not so with an act of choice. It commits, binds over, and holds responsible, the whole man, both for the choosing itself as an act, and for the thing chosen. It commits the whole self. This is its identifying characteristic. It makes the man responsible. When the will chooses, adopts, and consents to the gratification of any one of the cravings of the affections,- then do we dispose of ourselves to it, and then do we become responsible for it, as right or wrong, injurious or useful. j. So also of judging with regard to an object : it is manifest that merely forming an intellectual judgment between the cravings of any 54 AUTOLOGY. two or more affections, or judging as to the beauty or deformity of an object, or judging as to the usefulness, safety, or wisdom of any act or gratification, does not commit the me or the self to that judgment, if nothing but the mere discrimination is made ; it is only working out an intellectual problem, and nothing more. The self, if the matter stops here, and the judgment is simply made, remaining unacted upon and unadopted by the will, is of course no more affected or committed by it than in solving a problem in mathematics, but remains free and undis- posed of by this act. k. 1. And just so of the act of moralizing by the conscience. It does not commit the self to the thing discovered to be right or wrong, by the simple act of discovering it to be right or wrong. It is true that the self is under obligations both to choose and do the right and avoid the wrong when discerned by the conscience and pointed out. But certainly discerning the right, and feeling under obligation to do the right, is not choosing the right; they are two very different acts; and so discerning the wrong, and feeling under obligation to avoid the wrong, is a very different thing from refusing the wrong, or from delib- erately choosing to avoid the wrong. 2. The man has not chosen right, and acquitted himself so far forth of obligation and deserved reward, when he has only discovered what is right, and what he is under obligation to choose and elect. Nor has he done wrong, and incurred guilt and deserved penalty, when he has only discovered what is wrong, but has not chosen it. Therefore an act of the conscience discerning and enforcing the right and prohibiting the wrong, has not committed and bound over the self as justified or condemned to the object, act, or thing, the moral character of which is thus discovered. ■ 3. Indeed, the right and wrong of a thing must first of necessity be known before any responsible act can be taken with regard to it; and that act is done and performed by the will in the act of choice, obey- ing or disobeying the law of conscience, and not by the act of the con- science in discerning and defining the law of right. The conscience is the judicial, the intellect is the law-giving power, the will is the execu- tive and responsible power. 4. Now, the legislature which enacts, and the judge who decides what is law, do not by such acts of legislating and judging obey or disobey the laws which they thus create or interpret, and consequently do not incur any responsibility under the laws which they thus make or inter- pret ; but simply make them and make them known, to be obeyed or disobeyed thereafter by citizens. So with the will and conscience. The latter is judge, the former is executive, who by his acts under the law becomes responsible as guilty or innocent. THE WILL. 55 1. 1 . Neither is selecting an object as fit for choice, choosing it ; it is only a presenting of it to the will to be chosen by it, or rejected by it thereafter. If selecting an object by the intellect for choice seems choosing by the will, it is only so when the will actually chooses it thereafter. 2. But if the will, instead of choosing the object selected by the intellect, rejects it, it becomes very manifest that selecting by the intel- lect and choosing by the will are two very different things ; and that selecting does not dispose of the self, nor consequently incur responsi- bility, while choosing does incur it, and does commit the self to the thing or act chosen. 3. To select by the intellect is an involuntary act, a mere mental process, an intellectual solution which the mind has no choice about. To see that two and two are four is not a voluntary act, but one that the mind, by the necessity of its nature, by the very laws of intelligence, itself is compelled to perform ; and it cannot see that two and two are five, nor does it by such act make the self responsible, or in any way compromise or commit it. It is not at all an act of choice. 4. Just so selecting an object for choice, thereafter to be chosen, is not at all a responsible act, but a mere intellection, that does not commit the self, or make the me responsible ; it does not dispose of the self, but leaves it free. 5. But not so with the act of choosing a thing. To choose a thing is virtually to do it. Morally it is an actual doing of it, and hence the self is thereby committed to it and for it. By an act of choice, the will surrenders up the self. It asserts and compromises the self or ego. It consents to a thing or act, and gives up the self to that thing or act, and thus the whole self becomes committed to it. 6. For when the will has thus declared itself, then there is nothing left behind, but the whole self is committed, has announced itself, and asserted, its prerogative. This is choice ; for the self is committed and the me, the ego, is responsible ; the whole personality is involved in this act. The intellect may protest, the conscience may oppose, but still the choice of the will carries with it .the whole man as responsible for the act of choice. 56 AUTOLOGY. CHAPTER IV. THE FOURTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT IS THE FACULTY OF CHOICE? a. Having settled the question, What is the act of choice ? and found that it consists in self-disposijtion, i. e., the disposing of the self to the object of choice, we now come to the inquiry, What is the faculty that performs the act of choice ? b. Is it the self, or substance of the mind that chooses, or is it some quality inhering 1 in that self or substance ? c. We have already ascertained that the mind, like matter, is made up of substance and qualities ; and that this substance or essence of the mind is not a mere force like the substance of nature, but is a spiritual, living, forceful, and conscious agent; that it is the self, and that the self is self-conscious, a luminous and known, and not a dark and unknown centre of the mind, and that the self, the me, the ego, the will, and the substance of the mind are identical. d. In answer to the question, What is the faculty of choice? it is replied, that by careful elimination of all the acts of all the other facul- ties, and by separating the act of choice from all other acts, we have dis- entangled both the act and the faculty of choice from all other acts and faculties. And we find that the will alone is the faculty of choice. It alone performs the authoritative act of disposing of the self; it alone by its act binds the me, and makes the self responsible ; therefore it alone is the faculty of choice. No other faculty of the mind does or can do this ; it alone chooses, and it alone disposes of the self by its acts ; therefore it alone has freedom, and it alone incurs responsibility. e. But if, as we have shown in the preceding chapter, the essence of choice is self-disposition ; if the act of choice commits, binds over, and makes responsible the self; if when choice is made the self is announced and disposed of, refused or surrendered to an object of choice, then it it is evident that the will and the self are one and the same thing. /. For when the will has acted, made a choice, and disposed of the self, then there is no self or me left to act,. the self and the whole self, and the only self is already announced, committed, and disposed of. It has already disposed of itself in the act of choice. The will and the self are therefore identical. THE WILL. 57 g. In the little sentence " I choose," the will goes through the whole act of announcing and disposing of the- ego or self. It first, as in any other act, announces itself " I," then it disposes of itself by the active verb " choose ; " and it is the will that does it all. The will an- nounces " I ;" that "I" is the me, the ego, the self. It then disposes of this self which is itself, the same "I, " which it announces and disposes of in the act of choice. Hence, most plainly the " I," or the self, which is the same thing, and the will, are identical. The will and the self are one and the same thing. Therefore it is the will that disposes of the self, and it is the will, of course, that chooses. h. But we have before shown, in Chapter II., that the self is the essence or substance of the mind. Now, as according to a well known first truth, two things which are equal to the same thing are equal to each other ; it follows that the will and the substance or essence of the mind must be equal to each other, for they have each been shown to be equal to and identical with the one and the same self ; and therefore the will and the essence or substance of the mind must be equal to and identical with one another, as they are the same ego, me, or self. The will, therefore, is the substance or essence of the mind, and it is the substance or essence of the mind that chooses. i. How the will can be the substance of the mind, and yet perform the functions of a faculty, is just as obvious as how, being a sub- stance, it can yet be self-conscious, and hold the other faculties of the mind in inherence, and take cognizance of what they do, know, and report. It is in the nature of the will, as the substance of the mind, to do these things. j. But most especially will it appear how the will can both be and do all the above things, and also perform the functions of choosing, when we recall, as given in Chapter III., what the act of choice is, and when in Chapter V., we come to consider what the power of choice is, and in Chapter VI., what the vital and dynamical construction of the will is. 58 AUTOLOGY. CHAPTER V. THE FIFTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT IS THE POWER OF CHOICE? SECT. I. THE OBJECTIVE OR OCCASIONAL POWER OF CHOICE. a. In this chapter, the elements of the will are discovered and brought out, by showing that the power of choice is twofold ; objective and subjective, or occasional and efficient ; the first lying out of the will, and the second within the will. b. Our inquiries up to this point have only conducted us to the will. It has not been our object in the preceding chapter to analyze completely, or to discuss at length, the faculties of the mind. We have aimed only to ascertain what the act of choice is, and what faculty it is that chooses. c. This involved a cursory notice of the other faculties and their action, in order to show their relation to the act and faculty of choice, and to discriminate the former from the latter. d. For this end, we have drawn out the process to, and including choice, in chronological order, and found that it begins with the senses and ends with the will. It begins wjth the act of sensating and ends with the act of choosing. It is one process, but made up of distinct and separate acts, performed by separate and distinct faculties. The chronological order thus far pursued by way of exploration and dis- covery, is the reverse of the logical order which will be adopted in the further discussion' of this subject. e. Perhaps both methods are chronological and logical also, the former to the observer and the latter to the actor himself. While, in the pro- cess to choice, the operation begins without, and at the furthest point possible from the centre of the man, and proceeds inward from faculty to faculty, from sensating to cognizing, and from cognizing to affection- ing, and from affectioning to judging, from judging to moralizing, and from moralizing to choosing ; or to name the faculties, from the senses to the intellect, then to the affections, then the conscience, then the intellect again, and lastly, the will. f. The process of the mind's construction, on the contrary, begins at the centre, and with the will or substance of the mind, and proceeds out- THE WILL. 59 ward from faculty to faculty, from the will to the affections, from the affections to the intellect, and from the intellect to the conscience. At least, it begins with the will as substance and centre of the mind, and proceeds outward, taking up the various faculties of the mind in their logical order. g. Not that there exists any local or physical relation of the faculties to the self or to each other, as in the body, but that in the order of being, the substance exists before the properties, and the properties or qualities themselves have some natural order of development. h. Taking up, then, the logical, instead of the chronological order, we come to inquire after the elements of the self, or will, which we have found to be the centre, essence, and substance of the mind. And here we fall again upon one of the first questions with which we started in Chapter I. ; viz.; How does the will begin to act? The self or will is the substance of the mind, and an indivisible unit ; yet it manifestly has co-ordinate and coeval elements, which are distinguishable in their func- tions and character, yet which coalesce in one inseparable whole. i. What, then, are these elements ? We have seen that the will chooses ; that in choosing, the will disposes of itself; and that the will and the self are one and the same thing ; and that the will performs the act of choice alone, and by its own peculiar and proper force and efficient power ; that though the sense sensates and the intellect cognizes, and thus brings an object before the mind, still they perform no part of the act of choosing. j. We have seen that though the affections crave or reject, i. e., affec- tion or disaffection an object, yet they do 'not choose it ; and that the intellect, though it judges of such objects as to their qualities, yet does not choose them ; and that the conscience, though it moralises as to the right and wrong of the act of choice, yet does not choose an object or act ; and that the intellect, again, though it selects an object as fit for choice and the best for choice, and sets it before the will for choice, yet does not itself choose ; and thus that the complete and entire act of choice is performed by the will alone. k. Hence also we see that the complete, efficient, and subjective power of choice must be in the will itself alone. 1. The term power is not, however, sufficiently definite, and admits of division into efficient or subjective, and occasional or objective power. The efficient or subjective power of choice lies, as Ave have "seen, in the will. The occasional or objective power of choice lies out of the will, and consists of the objects and occasions of choice; it is a power "sine qua non ; " a choice could not take place without it. m. An object of choice could not be taken unless there be an object of choice, nor could an act of choice be put forth without an occasion 60 AUTOLOGY. for it. The concurrence of both the subjective and the objective power of choice is indispensable to the actual and practical taking of an object of choice. A choice could be made by the subjective power of the will alone, but it could not be carried into actual effect without the presence of the objects and the occasions of choice, which constitute the occasional and the objective power of choice. The occasional or objective power of choice consists of the object to be chosen, the facul- ties to bring the object before the will, and the circumstance or occasions as to time, place, and events, which surround the object and the chooser. The efficient or subjective power of choice lies in the agent who chooses, that is, in the will itself, as in due time we shall show. n. 1. Now, the former of these powers, i. e., the objective, or occasion- al power of choice, consists of all those faculties and their action which we have seen employed in the process to choice, together with the objects and occasions of choice, all meeting at the same time and place, to wit : the faculty of sense, sensating ; the faculty of intellect, perceiving and cognizing, the faculty of affection, affectioning ; the faculty of intellect again, judging; the faculty of conscience, moralizing; and the faculty of intellect again, selecting ; and the object or act which at the time and place is to be the subject of choice. 2. These constitute the objective power of choice ; these are conditions " sine qua non." If they do not exist, no choice can take place. If nothing is known, then of course nothing can be chosen. If nothing is craved or loathed ; if nothing is adjudged good or evil, fit or unfit, useful or injurious, beautiful or deformed, benevolent or malevolent, devout .or impious ; if nothing is considered as right or wrong; if nothing is selected, as, on the whole, the best object of choice, and certainly if there is no object of chojce at all before the mind, — then no object can be chosen ; and if there be no object then present, then no choice, though made, can be carried into effect. These things are the indispensable conditions of choice, without which it could not take place ; and we call them the objective or occasional power of choice, because they lie out of the will, and because they furnish both the objects and the occasions for choosing. o. But the efficient or subjective power of choice lies altogether in the will itself, in the chooser, and not in the objects or occasions for choosing; and the will is, as we have seen, the sole chooser. If a choice could not take place without the occasional power of choice, as we have seen, much less could it take place without the efficient or subjective power of choice. We could no more choose without a chooser than with- out objects or occasions for choice. On the contrary, a subjective choice could be made without external objects of choice, but of course no choice could be made without a chooser. If it is indispensable that there be a THE WILL. 61 sensater, a cognizer, a craver, a judger, a moralizer, a selecter, by which an object of choice is brought into a condition to be chosen, and in which choice is possible, much more is it indispensable that there be a chooser with the efficient and subjective power of choice. p. Now, we have already seen that the will is the chooser ; that it alone performs the act of choosing ; therefore in the will alone must be found the efficient and subjective power of choice ; while in the other faculties of the mind, and in the objects and occasions for choice, must be found the objective or occasional power of choice. q. Moreover, since we have found that the will and the self are one, and that the will is thus the substance or essence of the mind, it must follow that the other faculties of the mind, such as the faculty that sensates, the faculty that cognizes, the faculty that affections, the faculty that judges, the faculty that moralizes, the faculty that selects, and all other faculties that may yet appear, must inhere in the will as the centre, substance, or essence of the mind ; inhere in it as qualities inhere in any substance ; and of course that the efficient power of choice lies not in the qualities of the object. r. This relation, then, is established as existing between the will and the other faculties of the mind; viz., that the will is the substance or essence of the mind, the centre of the mind, while the other faculties exist as qualities or attributes, inhering in the will as their essence and centre. SECT. II. THE EFFICIENT POWER OF CHOICE, COMPRISING THE TRUE ELEMENTS OF THE WILL. a. We have seen that the efficient power of choice lies in the will, while the occasional power of choice lies in the other faculties outside of the will, and in the objects of choice. The question now arises, What is that power in the will by which it puts forth the act of choice ? Of what elements is it composed, and what is its nature and character ? b. This brings us at once to the very centre of the mind, to an analysis of the will itself, and to the inquiry, What are its essential constituents ? We are brought, in a word, to the essence of the mind. We have already seen that the self is the essence of the mind ; that this essence has still constituent elements which inhere, not in an under- lying substance, but in each other ; and that this self and the will are identical, and that the will is the centre, substance, and essence of the mind. c. We now come to inquire, What are the essential elements, which, inhering in each other, constitute the will, and give to it the efficient power of choice ? or, in other words, How can the will begin to act ? 62 AUTOLOGY. To this it is replied, that the will alone, as we have seen, performs the act of choice, after all the other faculties of the mind have acted and per- formed their appropriate and peculiar functions. Its efficient power of choice cannot, therefore, partake at all of the power of the other faculties of the mind, but must be all its own peculiar, and exclusive, and proper power. d. In order to know what the will is, we have only to observe what it does, and what are its states of being. And what have we seen .of the will iii the past chapter? We have seen that it is the self; that it is the substance or essence of the mind ; that as such it holds all the other faculties of the mind in the unity of a common inherence ; that as such it is an essential life-force ; and that, while it is a force for this purpose, it is also conscious and self-conscious; and that, while thus self-conscious, it chooses, and that in choosing it disposes of itself, which, of course, is the self, for the will and the self we have seen to be one. e. Now, from these facts, these acts of the will, we inquire, What is the will, as essence of the mind ? what are its essential elements ? or, rather, what are the elements of its power so to act? What elements are implied, involved, and employed in a will thus being and thus act- ing ? In other words, what constitutes the will's power of self-dis- position, which is its efficient power of choice ? for choice is, as we have seen, self-disposition. « f. To answer this, and ascertain what this will, this living self, is, let us more particularly look at what it does ; and it will be sufficient for our purpose here simply to look at the act of choice in order to get a clew to the elements of the will, which, after we have them thus before us, we may find also from another point of inquiry. A. 1. In the first place, the act of choice implies action, and, of course, the faculty that performs it must have activity. Not that the act of choice is the first act of the mind, or the first spring of its activity ; for we have already shown that it is not ; but still it is an act ; and, as we have seen, to choose is to direct one activity towards another. Therefore, in the act of self-disposition, which is choice, the will directs one activity towards another. Here, then, are three activities implied in the act of choice, two of which, viz., the activity directed and the activity directing, are in the will, and belong to the efficient power of choice ; while the latter, i. e., that to which the activity is directed, is in the affections, and belongs to the occasional or objective power of choice. Very clearly, then, the act of choice implies action, essential action; and we may safely set down " activity" essential activity, as one element in the will's efficient or subjective power of choice. 2. In the second place, the act of choice is knowingly done and per- THE WILL. 63 formed ; the will must, therefore, have intelligence or consciousness in itself. It must be conscious of all its own activity, and of all the activity of the faculties that inhere in it. It must be conscious of holding 1 the faculties in inherence, and conscious of all its own acts done by its own power, over and above, and before and distinct from, its consciousness of the acts of the other faculties. We may, therefore, set down essential intelligence, or consciousness, as another element in the will's efficient power of choice. 3. Thirdly, there is authority in the will's act of self-disposition. To choose, then, is to show authority, for the self disposes of the self, therefore the will must be the author of its own action ; it must be a proprietor and have proprietorship ; it must be an individual self, it must have self-consciousness. Moreover, it must know that it is a self, an individual ; and hence we may set down individuality as a third element in the will, and helping to constitute its efficient power of choice. 4. In the fourth place, there is especial design and intent in the act of self-disposition or choice ; that is, the act is for a particular end, viz., self-disposition ; and therefore the will must have also the end of its action in itself, or self-law ; it must be a law unto itself. 5. And fifthly, it disposes of itself for itself, and in obedience to its own inherent end of action ; therefore it must have liberty, for this is liberty ;• self-disposition is the essence of liberty. And it is so because it has within itself its own end of action, its own authority for action, its own intelligence and its own life-force, as we have seen the will here to have. 6. Now, these elements are implied and employed in the action of the self or will in the act of choice, by which it always disposes of itself, for choice is self-disposition. The two primary elements are, — First. Essential Activity, or Life. Second. Essential Intelligence, or Consciousness. The order of these two is not important, as they are alike primal and original, having simultaneous existence, and are, as we have seen in Chapter I., the primal elements of the mind, in which alone begin, and can begin, its knowing and its acting. The elements of the complete will, therefore, stand thus ; viz. : — First. Essential Activity, or Life. Second. Essential Intelligence, or Consciousness. Third. Essential Individuality, Self, or Authorship, or Proprietorship. Fourth. Essential Self-Law, or End of Action. Fifth. Essential Liberty, or Self disposition, which is the act and 64 AUTOLOGY. essence of choice. Self-disposition is the essence of choice, as it is the essence of liberty. 7. These elements are not only clearly implied and actually em- ployed by the will in the act of choice, but they are indispensable to it, and they are all that are essential to it. More would be a redundancy, as less would be a deficiency ; for without a spring of action, how could the will act ? Without intelligence, how could it know its action ? Without being a self, a proprietor, an author, how could it disjjose of itself, as in the act of choice it does dispose of itself? And without an end of action, how could it act for an end ? And without that end of action in itself, how could it have liberty ? And without liberty, how could it choose or dispose of itself? 8. Thus we have all the elements employed in self-disposition ; and how in the act of self-disposition could any more elements be employed than those enumerated ? These constitute a complete self or will, with full power to act, to perform the act of choice, of self-disposition. More would be superfluous, less insufficient. These five elements, then, we take to be the constituents of the will, giving it the efficient power of choice, and we have derived them from the act of choice by inference, as implied and employed in that act. And here we might leave the question of fact, and consider it established that these are the true elements of the will. 1 B. a. But we have other sources of proof. We have here appealed to observation and the reason ; let us now turn to the consciousness, and ask what is its testimony as to the elements of the will employed in the act of self-disposition, or choice. 1. We affirm, that in the act of choice, or self-disposition, the mind is conscious of action. 2. It is conscious of knowing ; that is, conscious that it is conscious. 3. It is conscious that it is the author of its own acts ; that is, it is self-conscious. 4. It is conscious in the act of self-disposition that the end of this act is self-disposition, and that thus its end of action is in itself. 5. It is conscious that the act of self-disposition is, in its nature, a free act ; and consequently it is directly conscious of liberty. b. And thus, again, we have clearly, by the testimony of conscious- ness, the same five elements in the self, or will, or essence of the mind ; viz., essential intelligence, activity, individuality, .law or end, and liberty. c. And here, with the concurrent testimony of reason and conscious- ness, we surely might leave the question of the elements of the will as settled, and pass on to a more minute examination of these several * THE WILL. 65 elements, and of their combination into the one faculty of the will, and of their coalescence in the essence of the mind. G. a. But having already, in Chapter I., ascertained the two pri- mordial elements of the mind, viz., essential intelligence and essential activity, as the som*ces of the mind's knowing, and of its acting, and as these are precisely the same elements which we here find entering into the will and essence of the mind, we shall proceed from these two pri- mordial elements to seek out other constituents of the will. b. In Chapter I. we found that the mind could not begin its knowing in the reason or in the senses, but must have a source of knowing anterior to them, or it could never know anything. That source of knowing we found to be the essential intelligence, or consciousness. c. We also found that the mind could never begin to act without some source of activity lying back of the will, the affections, and the conscience, as the specific act of each of these implied an action gone before ; precisely as the act of knowing by the reason and senses, each implied a knowing going before them. That source of action we found to be essential activity, lying below the act of choice, and below the act of the affections and the conscience. d. We now take up again the two primal elements of the mind's being, viz., the 'sources of its acting and of its knowing, and we shall see that they are formative principles, and that by their combination with each other, and their successive combinations with their products respectively, all the elements of the will are produced, and that they all coalesce into the one unit, the one undivided whole of self, will, essence, and substance of the mind. Reason, consciousness, and our own obser vation have already taught us that the will is composed of five elements ; but we shall now see that only the first two of them are primary, original, and coeval, and that all the rest are formed by combining them and their products. e. These two, essential intelligence and essential activity, the latter the evidence of life, and the former the evidence of mind, have a primary and coeval inherence in each other ; the essential activity being first in the order of being, and the essential intelligence, or consciousness, being first in the order of knowing. /. The}', however, both in one individual coalescence, are the primal essence of being, and, combining as formative principles, constitute the one whole self, or will. The whole self is active, the whole self is conscious. There is no part of the self that is not active, and none that is not conscious. The essential activity, or life, and the essential consciousness, or intelligence, are mutually inclusive and interpenetrant, and unitedly, therefore, and 9 66 AUTOLOGY. ■ severalty, permeate the whole self, from centre to circumference, so that the whole self is both active and known, alive and conscious. g. The whole essence of the mind is thus luminous and living-, active and known. There is no dark unknown and unknowable self, essence, or substance, lying below the reach of our knowledge ; but all is thus known and open to our intelligence. h. Now, by the combination of these two elements we have the third ; that is, the essential consciousness, combining with the essential ac- tivity, gives self-consciousness, the consciousness of a self, individual proprietor or author. Then, assuming their product as a distinct element, and combining it again with the original two, we have the fourth element as product, viz., self as end, or self-law, as already found in the act of self-disposition. And still, again, by taking this self-law as the end of action which the will has in itself, and combining it with the preceding elements, we have liberty as the fifth and last element of the will ; for essential intelli- gence combined with essential activity, or life, gives a self-conscious self. Then this self as end gives a law of action to the self, and in itself, and this law, whose end is in itself, and which is self-disposing, is, when combined with the preceding elements, liberty. And thus we have a complete self, or will, which is the essence of the mind, made up of mutually inhering elements, and giving us thus a full-armed, free, and competent will, having the efficient power of choice in itself, and per- forming the act of self-disposition in every act it puts forth. CHAPTER VI. THE SIXTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT IS THE VITAL AND DYNAMICAL CONSTRUCTION OF THE WILL? SECT. I. ESSENTIAL ACTIVITY. — FIRST ELEMENT. A. a. In this chapter are defined and explained the spiritual, vital, and dynamical elements of the will, and the process by which they are combined into a complete whole, constituting the will. b. The will is a vital and dynamical development out of the two pri- mordial and formative elements by which the mind begins to act and to know ; essential activity and essential intelligence. c. That the will has these two primal and formative elements we have THE WILL. 67 already shown, practically, by observing what the will does in the act of choice, and also by marking* the difference between the objective and the subjective power of choice ; and thus by induction from facts 'we are able to show of what elements the will must be composed, and we have shown it in the sections of the preceding chapter. d. We now propose to give the vital and dynamical process by which the will is logically constructed out of the primal and formative elements, discovered in Chapter I., and to show that the same successive elements are logically developed, and the same faculty of will constructed and completed by the vital and dynamical working together of these two primal and formative elements which have been practically found to exist in the actual working of the will as a complete faculty. e. We bring together, as two witnesses to the same facts, conscious- ness, as it gives the vital and dynamical elements and structure of the will, and experiment, which observes and marks the practical working of the will ; and thus we have the nature of the will doubly attested and affirmed. f. Before entering upon the combination of the elements that build the will, we must observe that, of all the faculties of the mind, the will alone has freedom. The affections act involuntarily, by necessity of their nature. The intellect acts also according to its own fixed laws in all its knowing. The conscience has no alternative, but accuses or else excuses according to its own nature and conditions. The will alone has the power of free action ; and when it is completed as a will in all its elements, it has this freedom in itself. g. It must be observed; however, that the elements of the will are not free ; they act necessarily and according to their own involuntary nature, until they have produced liberty, and then liberty recombined with them produces and completes the will. This distinction must be particularly observed, as it will be found to be of importance, not only in discrim- inating choice, but also when we come to regard the will as the sub- stance of the mind, producing qualities and holding them in inherence in itself. h. It must be borne in mind also, that these elements do not inhere in any common substance, but inhere, as we have seen in Chapter II., in each other. They are elements, and not qualities, and are, therefore, mutually inherent, being substance and quality to each other reciprocally, as all elements are. This distinction between qualities and elements cannot be too carefully observed. i. We now take up the several elements which constitute the self, will, or essence of the mind, and proceed to examine them separately, in order more fully to ascertain their nature and the nature and power of the will which they compose. 68 AUTOLOGY. B. a. The first element of the self, will, or essence of the mind, which observation, reason, and consciousness give us, is essential activity, or life. b. We cannot conceive of a self without the thought of life, and it is impossible to conceive of life without activity, essential and spontaneous activity. Life gives no evidence of its existence without action. A dead self is no self, and an inactive life is no life. Essential activity ever springing forth, ever acting, ever showing its life by its activity, — this is the first and indispensable element of a self, will, or essence. c. In this we have the full answer to the question, " How can the mind begin to act?" with which this work set out; and the answer is this : The mind begins to act, just as it begins to live, in an original and essential activity, which is the essence of life ; for life and activity are here one and the same identical thing. d. This activity must not be confounded with appetitive craving, or with affectional desire, sentiment, or passions. All these we have seen to be historically before the act of choice, and to have acted, before we arrived at the will or self at all. We have also seen that choice comes after this activity. The essential activity lies, in the order of nature, at the centre, as the life and life-spring, and all the remaining activities come after. e. The appetites and affections, and the conscience, have already all had their cravings and aversions, and it is with regard to them that the essential activity, or life, is directed by the will. /. The essential activity which the will, by the act of choice, directs, is different in time and nature from them all, and lies deeper than all other activities. This activity is not that of growth, nor of gravitation, which depends upon antecedent conditions or causes. It has no ante- cedent, nor any conditions, save that of its own existence, but is simple activity, simple life. g. It does not spring, like the motion of the earth, from the joint action of two forces. It is not the action of a sensitivity, nor of an in- tellect, nor is it the effect of a preceding action; but. it is an activity which, like the principle of life, which it is, lies back of all conditions, and is itself the first element and ground of being. The principle of activity and the principle of life are coexistent and identical, and in contra- distinction from all conditioned activities. h. This activity or life depends upon no antecedent cause, aims at no consequent effect, but is simply and essentially active. The appetites and affections are stimulated by an external cause, and gratified by an appropriate object, and then cease to act. But this essential activity, or life of the self, never ceases to act until it ceases to exist. It is moved by nothing from without, aims towards no object, is gratified or offended by no result, but is acting, ever and unceasingly acting. THE WILL. 69 i. Not so of the affections, or appetites, or passions. They crave a specific thing. When that thing is attained, their activity is gratified, and ceases for the time. But this essential activity has no appetite for anything, no desire for anything; tends towards no definite point, only is ever and essentially active. It goes forth on its own motion without design, and is the condition and pre-requisite of all specific and designed action. j. Nor is this activity that of the intellect ; for though the intellect must always act, thought must always think, is ever ceaseless, yet it must ever think something, know something. But this essential activity never knows anything ; thinks nothing, and does nothing ; but is that which is known. It is the subject matter of knowledge, and is the subject of direction when something is done. k. Yet, as the intellect is ceaselessly active, so is this life, or activity, ceaselessly active. Intellect always is occupied with something. It is impossible that it should exist in an inactive state. It is when it acts. It is gone when it ceases to act. So the will, self, or essence in its essential activity has no existence except in its activity. It cannot be and not act. I. Nor is this activity the act of choice. Choice is the direction of this activity to a specific end. This activity, therefore, is that which renders choice possible. It is the very activity which by choice is directed to an intelligent and designed end. In itself it has no direction to any end. It craves nothing, selects nothing, chooses nothing, but is a spontaneous and indefinite activity directed to one end and from another by the act of choice. m. Nor is this activity that of the conscience, for the conscience im- plies an act of choice, either done or to be done, upon which it passes judgment, which act of choice implies this activity already in existence, and directs it to some specific end. n. The essential activity, therefore, is not intellectual, appetitive, passionate, sentimental, ethical, or voluntary, but is simply spontaneous and indeterminate, lying back of all other activities, and is the condition upon which alone they are possible. All specific activities are built upon and may seek to control this essential activity, but are not identical with it. The appetitive, affectional, ethical, voluntary, and intellectual activi- ties do seek to control this essential activity to their own end. They do lay their cravings, yearnings, commands, and injunctions upon it, but are essentially distinct from it. It is essential activity, no more and no less, and is the life and vital spring of the whole mind. 72 AUTOLOGY. ' itself that do not depend at all upon the external senses. Conscious- ness and the reason have sources of knowledge in themselves, the one of primary facts, and the other of primary ideas formed from those facts. As the reason knows a'first truth by its own especial power of knowing-, so the consciousness knows primary facts by its own inherent power of knowing or knowingness ; and these knowledges of the con- sciousness and the reason must exist before any cognition through the external or internal senses can take place. m. That which the reason knows is before that which is known through the senses, and that which the consciousness knows is before that which the reason knows. While the reason knows ideas and cog- nizes by them, the consciousness knows facts simply, primary facts, facts embraced in its own grasp directly, without the. intervention of any other faculty ; and the knowing of these facts by the consciousness is before the knowing of ideas by the reason, and before any other know- ing by the mind, and must first be before any other knowing can be. These primary facts of consciousness are the bases of the ideas of the reason, the facts from which they are formed ; and it is through the ideas thus formed alone that the objects of sense can be cognized. n. The consciousness knows and holds as facts, as we have already seen, 1st, itself; 2d, activity ; 3d, self-consciousness, or the conscious- ness of a self, or of individuality ; 4th, self-end, or self-law ; and £th, liberty ; and thus a complete 6elf, or will, with other facts, as we shall see when we come to take up the discussion of the intellect proper. And these facts are the bases of all the knowings of the reason, and all the cognitions through the senses. o. Facts, then, are before principles or ideas, and ideas are before cognition through the senses, either external or internal. All our knowl- edge, therefore, begins in facts; not facts by the senses, but facts given by the consciousness alone ; facts not cognized through any sense, ex- ternal or internal, but facts originally in the possession of the conscious- ness, and known and held by it independently and alone ; and upon these facts the reason forms its ideas. p. A priori ideas and principles, as the conditions of facts, cannot be affirmed of the facts of consciousness, for these facts must first exist in order that ideas can be. The ideas could not exist at all if facts did not first exist. An absolute a' priori origin of all knowledge, is historically false, as it is logically absurd and impossible. For an idea is an idea of something, and presupposes its existence, and con- sciousness here gives those somethings of which and out of which the reason forms its ideas. Ideas are indeed before the knowledge of facts that come through the senses, but not before the facts which con- THE WILL. 73 sciousness itself gives by its own power, and before any other faculty either has acted or can act. q. We cannot tell that anything must be until we first know that something is. Hence principles or ideas can never be before facts, but facts must always be before ideas or principles. The consciousness gives us those primary facts, and consciousness is, of course, the first fact that consciousness gives. These observations belong to the nature of consciousness, of which we are here speaking, but will come up more fully when we take up the knowing faculty, or the Intellect proper, in the third part of this work. SECT. III. ESSENTIAL INDIVIDUALITY, OR SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS; OR CONSCIOUSNESS OF A SELF. — THE THIRD ELEMENT. a. The third element of a self or will is Individuality, self-recognition, authorship, or consciousness of a self. b. We have already had Essential Activity and Essential Intelligence; but these in their separate state, the one acting and the other knowing, do not give the consciousness of a self as an individual ; there needs to be something more. There must bo a unity of the activity and the intelli- gence. These, thus united, give a third element, and that is self-recog- nition, or a self recognized. This is the element of individuality, or authorship. c. The office of the consciousness is twofold, as we have already seen — to recognize the self and faculties of the self, together with the actions and cognitions of those faculties. Now, in this case and up to this point, it knows only the self ; for the self, or will, is as yet only in its elementary state, and has no faculties inhering in it to act. The consciousness here acts in the exercise of its own legitimate function, in taking cognizance of the essential and elemental activity, and thus giv- ing the consciousness of a self. There is as yet nothing further for it to take cognizance of, as it is now acting as an element of the self, and joining in the constituting of a self. d. The essential activity is, as we have before seen, not the action of a faculty of the self, but is an element of the self* It is spontaneous and necessary action, unknowing and dark. So, essential intelligence is elementary and necessary knowing ; it is a knowing which knows that it knows, and which knows immediately and without, any other object intervening ; it is simply introspective and self-seeing, affirming itself, without affirming any other object. , e. The synthesis of the essential activity and the essential intelligence gives a thing known ; i. e., the consciousness of an individuality, a unit 10 74 AUTOLOGY. conscious of itself, a self cognized, with all that is constituent of self, and hence an individual self-consciousness. /. It is evident that there can be no such thing as a self without self- consciousness. Intelligence alone is not a self, activity alone is not a self; but the two joined, giving a blended activity and intelligence in one unity, an activity known by its intelligence, and an intelligence made real by its activity, giving the knowledge of a self-conscious, self- active self, distinct and separate from all else, — this is a self; a self- conscious, self-active, a self-affirmed self. g. This self-consciousness is the broadest distinction between mind and matter. To know that we are a self, and not a mere thing, to feel conscious of intelligence, activity and life, blended in one distinct in- dividuality, — this distinguishes the mind from matter. Take this away, and the self ceases, and becomes a thing, and sinks to the level of dead matter, and blends with the mass of unconscious being. . And this ac- tivity and this consciousness in unity come to self-consciousness immedi- ately, without the intervention of any other process or faculty; for as yet there are no faculties ; the knowing is therefore direct, immediate, posi- tive, and absolute, and not indirect and relative. The self is just coming into being by the combining of its own elements. It as yet has received the endowment of no faculty, nor, in fact, are all its own elements yet produced. Its self-consciousness must, then, be elemental and immediate. h. It must here be observed that these elements, consciousness and activity, are mutually inherent. Elements thus differ from qualities. Qualities inhere in a substance, while elements inhere in each other. Elements are, therefore, to each other both substance and quality, as in this case : the consciousness is active, and is thus the substance of that activity, while the activity is its qualit}\ And so, vice versa, the ac- tivity is conscious, and is thus the substance of the consciousness, while the consciousness is its quality. Elements are thus mutually inherent, and mutually substance and quality to each other. These elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, thus combined, give self-con- sciousness, or the consciousness of a self. i. We doubtless come to a sort of external and demonstrated knowl- edge that we are a self by first perceiving an external object. We then, as a matter of course, become conscious that the act of perceiving is the act of our own self, and that our consciousness excludes the object perceived from our self; and hence that we and the object per- ceived are not identical, but different things ; our self-conscious self stands out clearly by itself. j. But this it did before the act of perceiving took place, or there would have been no perceiver. Consciousness had already grasped the THE WILL. T5 essential activity, and the essential activity had already grasped the consciousness, and they twain were already one, mutually interpenetrant, and mutually comprehending-, each permeating the other, each being both centre and circumference, substance and quality, to the other, and both joining in one distinct, and demonstrated, and avowed self-con- sciousness ; and a consciousness of a self and of an individuality. And this individual already individualized puts forth the act of perceiving through the senses. k. So also we observe some objects to have fixed position and fixed time. We perceive them in such place and time, and not in any other ; and for that reason we infer that they cannot be mere illusions of our senses within us, but must have objective reality ; and hence also we conclude that we have a separate existence from these objects. I. But the foregone work and co-etaneous action of consciousness in all these cases is implied ; for we are conscious that we are a self, separated from all else by the mere force of consciousness grasping the essential activity, and before we perceive an external object, or can perceive it. We must be first conscious that we are a self, before we can refer the acts of the faculties to the self, or distinguish anything from the self. m. Therefore the essential consciousness takes cognizance of the self in grasping the essential activity, and that immediately, and thus gives us directly, absolutely, and in the first instance, individuality. n. Now, individuality has both definiteness and authority, and this makes a self or ego, and it may command to an intelligent end. o. And here wo see that the self is not a dark, but a light, not an un- known, but a known centre of the mind. The self is not a dark cavern, impenetrable and unexplorable, in which the faculties of the mind are thrust, as into the Black Hole of Calcutta, and where they are known only by their groans ; but the self is a luminous and transparent, intelli- gent and active central force, a life force, conscious from centre to cir- cumference, through and through, and quick and active with its own spontaneous and essential activity, the activity showing the intelligence, and the intelligence showing the activity, each interpenetrating and comprehending, and each being both substance and quality, both centre and circumference, to the other. p. Now, this self is an individual, and holds all the faculties of the mind in inherence, and takes cognizance of what they are and what they do. It is a self, an ego, and may have authority, and direct to a particular end. And this brings us to another element of the self or will ; for they are not yet all developed, and formed, and distinguished in their nature and places ; viz., Essential Self-law. 76 AUTOLOGY. SECT. IV. ESSENTIAL SELF-LAW. — FOURTH ELEMENT. a. We have already found three elements of the self or will — essential activity, essential intelligence, and essential individuality. The first two are original and coeval; the third is a synthesis of the first two. Taking the third, which by the combination of the first two has become a distinct element, complete in itself, as essential individuality, and com- bining it again with the first two, we have thereby a fourth element ; viz., essential self-law or end of action. b. The essential individuality has in itself both definiteness and authority. It therefore, when combined again with the essential activity and essential intelligence, becomes unto them the essential law of their action. The authority and definiteness of individuality give an author- itative, and definite, and intelligent end of action ; and hence it is a law in the self. c. As it is manifest that consciousness, being the essential know- ing element, is different from self-consciousness, which is the essen- tially known, so also is it manifest that self-consciousness is dif- ferent from self-law, which is the essentially intended; the former is essential individuality, the latter is essential self-law or end of action ; and this is the fourth element in the self or will ; viz., essential self-law. d. Now, it is evident that though there may be intelligence, activity, and individuality, yet without self-law there is an incompleteness. A self, though conscious of its own existence, is as yet not an entirety ; it must have its own end of being and action in itself. And we see that the elements already found do of necessity give it its own end of being and action in itself. For the self of which we are conscious be- comes, in its own distinctness and separate individuality, a definite end and object to the self, and hence an authoritative law for the action of the self. e. The essential individuality is at first formed by combining the essential activity with the essential intelligence ; but when this third thing is formed, and stands out in distinctness and authorit}^ then it be- comes the master of the elements that compose it, and controls them to a specific end. /. The essential activity still, as ever, acts ; the essential consciousness still, as ever, knows; the essential individuality, as ever, is distinct; but the activity and the intelligence now act, not informing an individuality, but for that individuality already formed, and this individuality is the end for which they know and act. Then a unity of intelligence, activity, and individuality gives action intelligently directed to a definite and THE WILL. n intended end, which definite and intended end is the element of essential self-law. g. Now, this self-law is not self-love, nor self-hate ; not a love of well being, nor of ill being ; not of self-worthiness, nor of self-baseness ; it is not a love of the beautiful, nor of the deformed ; it is not a love of the benevolent, nor of the malevolent ; it is not a love of the right, nor of the wrong; but it is simply self-law, individuality, or ipseality, as the end of action ; whether for good or for evil, right or wrong, weal or woe. It is simply individuality as end, no more ; for there is as yet no capability of any other considerations. h. This essential self-law is not the spring of action, or of the mind's activity, for the essential activity is the spring of action, or of the mind's activity ; but the essential self-law is the end or law of action. The essential self-law only gives a defined and intelligent end, towards which the essential activity may move; thus is it emphatically the law of its action. This essential self-law derives authority and definiteness from the individuality, as from the other elements it derives activity and intelligence, and thus it has all the attributes of self-law. « i. Nor is this self-law the law over the will ; but it is law in the will, and constitutive of it. It is elemental law, entering into the nature, mechanism, and being of the will. It is not the' law by which the will is to be governed when it is a complete existence, for that is the con- science ; but it is that elemental law which is the mode of its existence. j. The law which is over the will as the rule of its action when it is a complete being, has a moral element in it, and is the rule of right and of duty to a complete person ; it is known as the Conscience, or " moral sense." But this essential law in the will, on the contrary, has no moral element in it, is no rule of duty to any person, but is only and essentially self-law, as the primary and elemental end of the essential activity. It is the law component of self, not the law over self when complete. k. A moral law is the rule of duty to a self; it has no office, nothing to govern, until the self is complete. It then becomes the rule by which that self is bound to be governed and judged. But an essential law, one that enters into the essence of the being of the self, is an element in its existence, that is, before the self can be, and helps to create that very self, over which a moral law, or a rule of duty, may afterwards be placed. I. Therefore these two laws, viz., essential law and moral law, or governmental law, must not be confounded. The one enters into the constitution and being of the self or will, and is of its elements and essence ; the other is a law over the self or will, when it is in existence and perfect, and is a rule of duty for its action. Elemental law gives to the will the capability of choosing ; moral law gives the rule for choos- ing ; the former gives it power to choose any way, the latter requires 76 AUTOLOGY. SECT. IV. ESSENTIAL SELF-LAW. — FOURTH ELEMENT. a. We have already found three elements of the self or will — ■ essential activity, essential intelligence, and essential individuality. The first two are original and coeval ; the third is a synthesis of the first two. Taking the third, which by the combination of the first two has become a distinct element, complete in itself, as essential individuality, and com- bining it again with the first two, we have thereby a fourth element ; viz., essential self-law or end of action. b. The essential individuality has in itself both definiteness and authority. It therefore, when combined again with the essential activity and essential intelligence, becomes unto them the essential law of their action. The authority and definiteness of individuality give an author- itative, and definite, and intelligent end of action ; and hence it is a law in the self. c. As it is manifest that consciousness, being the essential know- ing element, is different from self-consciousness, which is the essen- tially known, so also is it manifest that self-consciousness is dif- ferent from self-law, which is the essentially intended; the former is essential individuality, the latter is essential self-law or end of action; and this is the fourth element in the self or will ; viz., essential self-law. d. Now, it is evident that though there may be intelligence, activity, and individuality, yet without self-law there is an incompleteness. A self, though conscious of its own existence, is as yet not an entirety ; it must have its own end of being and action in itself. And we see that the elements already found do of necessity give it its own end of being and action in itself. For the self of which we are conscious be- comes, in its own distinctness and separate individuality, a definite end and object to the self, and hence an authoritative law for the action of the self. e. The essential individuality is at first formed by combining the essential activity with the essential intelligence ; but when this third thing is formed, and stands out in distinctness and authority, then it be- comes the master of the elements that compose it, and controls them to a specific end. /. The essential activity still, as ever, acts; the essential consciousness still, as ever, knows; the essential individuality, as ever, is distinct; but the activity and the intelligence now act, not in forming an individuality, but for that individuality already formed, and this individuality is the end for which they know and act. Then a unity of intelligence, activity, and individuality gives action intelligently directed to a definite and THE WILL. 77 intended end, which definite and intended end is the element of essential self -law. g. Now, this self-law is not self-love, nor self-hate ; not a love of well being, nor of ill being ; not of self-worthiness, nor of self-baseness ; it is not a love of the beautiful, nor of the deformed ; it is not a love of the benevolent, nor of the malevolent ; it is not a love of the right, nor of the wrong; but it is simply self-law, individuality, or ipseality, as the end of action; whether for good or for evil, right or wrong, weal or woe. It is simply individuality as end, no more ; for there is as yet no capability of any other considerations. h. This essential self-law is not the spring of action, or of the mind's activity, for the essential activity is the spring of action, or of the mind's activity ; but the essential self-law is the end or law of action. The essential self-law only gives a defined and intelligent end, towards which the essential activity may move; thus is it emphatically the law of its action. This essential self-law derives authority and definiteness from the individuality, as from the other elements it derives activity and intelligence, and thus it has all the attributes of self-law. « i. Nor is this self-law the law over the will ; but it is law in the will, and constitutive of it. It is elemental law, entering into the nature, mechanism, and being of the will. It is not the' law by which the will is to be governed when it is a complete existence, for that is the con- science ; but it is that elemental law which is the mode of its existence. j. The law which is over the will as the rule of its action when it is a complete being, has a moral element in it, and is the rule of right and of duty to a. complete person ; it is known as the Conscience, or " moral sense." But this essential law in the will, on the contrary, has no moral element in it, is no rule of duty to any person, but is only and essentially self-law, as the primary and elemental end of the essential activity. It is the law component of self, not the law over self when complete. k. A moral law is the rule of duty to a self; it has no office, nothing to govern, until the self is complete. It then becomes the rule by which that self is bound to be governed and judged. But an essential law, one that enters into the essence of the being of the self, is an element in its existence, that is, before the self can be, and helps to create that very self, over which a moral law, or a rule of duty, may afterwards be placed. I. Therefore these two laws, viz., essential law and moral law, or governmental law, must not be confounded. The one enters into the constitution and being of the self or will, and is of its elements and essence ; the other is a law over the self or will, when it is in existence and perfect, and is a rule of duty for its action. Elemental law gives to the will the capability of choosing ; moral law gives the rule for choos- ing ; the former gives it power to choose any way, the latter requires 7S AUTOLOGY. that it choose the right way ; the first is the law of liberty, the second is the law of duty ; the one is in the will's constitution, and gives it liberty, the other is over the will already constituted and free, and requires of it duty, and is known as the conscience, of which we shall speak in the proper place. m. Here it is the object to show what elemental self-law is, and to distinguish it from the essential activity which is mere spontaneity on the one hand, and moral law, which is the rule of duty, on the other. The first is an element of the self, constituting the individuality ; the other is the moral law over the self or will when complete. Essential self-law is in the will, and over the essential activity, yet below and under the moral law. Moral law is the rule for this same self-law, and exists outside of the will and after it is complete. Essential activity is the spring of the mind's activity ; essential self-law is the law over essential activity, which gives the will liberty ; while moral law, or the conscience, is the rule of the will's duty. And this brings us to the fifth and last element of the self, will or essence of the mind — Liberty, Essential Liberty. SECT. V. ESSENTIAL LIBERTY. —THE FIFTH ELEMENT. a. .The fifth and last element of the will is Essential Liberty. This element is the product of the combination of all the preceding elements. We have already found essential activity, essential intelligence, essen- tial individuality, essential self-law. The essential activity and the essential intelligence going forth in their spontaneity and uniting, give us a third element, essential individuality, as a new and distinct element. Then the spontaneity of the essential activity, and the essential intelli- gence going forth again and uniting with the essential individuality, produces essential law, or end of action as a distinct element. Still again, the spontaneity of the essential activity, and the essential intelli- gence, and the essential individuality, goes forth, and uniting with the essential law, produces liberty as a distinct element. b. And thus is liberty produced, essential, elementary, absolute lib- erty. It is the product of the combination of essential activity, essen- tial intelligence, essential individuality, and essential law into one life. As essential activity combined with essential intelligence produces essential individuality, so does the combination of essential individuality with essential intelligence and essential activity produce essential law, or end of action ; and so again does the combination of essential law or end with essential individuality, essential intelligence, and essential activity, produce essential liberty. c. And what is liberty ? Liberty is not, as we have seen, unre* THE WILL. 19 strained activity ; for if it were, then essential activity in its blind un- consciousness would be liberty. Nor is it simply intelligent activity that constitutes liberty ; for simply knowing what our action is, is not to act freely ; it may be only to know fatality. Nor is simply acting from individual dictation alone, liberty ; it may be mere arbitrariness, and not liberty. So also the acting according to law alone is not lib- erty, for laws. may be tyrannies ; but liberty must have all these ele- ments, or it is not liberty. d. Liberty must be a combination of them all in one undivided and indivisible whole and unity. Liberty must have its own essential activ- ity in itself, or of course it cannot be capable of freedom. It must also have its own essential intelligence, or it cannot be free, but must be bound in dependence on another ; it must also have its own end of ac- tion intelligently held within itself as the law of its action ; for if it had not, then, all its action would, as we have seen, stop short of lib- erty. And even this last element of self-law, or end of action, could not give liberty alone, but must be composed of all the other preceding ele- ments, and combined with them, and then liberty can be and is pro- duced. Essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, essential law, — these, in combination and in inseparable coalescence, forming a single and indivisible whole, these produce and give liberty. e. To the question, then, " What is liberty ? " we give this answer : Liberty is essential activity, enlightened by essential intelligence, directed by essential individuality, according to essential law. Or, it is self-activity or life enlightened by self-intelligence, directed by self- authority, according to self-law or self-end. And this is the coales- cence in one living and indivisible whole and unity of essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, and essential law, which one living whole is. liberty. f. Liberty, when thus composed, is a distinct and independent ele- ment, standing out by itself alone. Just as individuality, when com- posed of the preceding elements, stands out alone, and just as essen- tial law, or self-end, when composed of the preceding elements, stands out alone and distinct, so, liberty composed of the preceding elements, when complete, is an entirety in itself, and stands out as a distinct ele- ment of the will, to be combined yet again with the preceding elements in their distinctness, to compose, constitute, and complete the will. g. And now, with regard to this liberty, it must be observed that it is original, elemental, essential, underived, independent, and absolute, as all liberty, in its very nature and conception, must be. We have it here in its own original fountain, living, upspringing, boiling, pure, self- sustained, perennial, a spring of life in itself. h. We have it here alone and with no other faculties of the mind 80 AUTOLOGY. around or mingled with it. It stands by itself, apart, in its own living' essence. It is after essential activity, it is after essential intelligence, it is after essential individuality or self, it -is after essential law ; but it is before the being of the will, and an element of it. The self is of course before liberty, for essential individuality is self, properly speaking. i. Will and self are identical, as we all along have said, but only so far as the self goes ; the will is greater than the self. Will has liberty in it ; but self, in its restricted sense, as individuality, has not liberty ; but liberty has self as an element in its own composition, and is made up of it and the other elements. Thus is liberty produced ; thus has it being ; thus is liberty essentially in the will as its last and com- pleting element. j. The will has activity, it has intelligence, it has individuality, it has law, and thus it can intelligently direct its own action to its own end, and that is liberty. Self-activity, self-intelligence, self-individuality, self- law, — these give the will liberty, essential, elemental, original, underived, absolute liberty ; liberty as of the elements and essence of the mind itself ; and thus we have all the elements of the will at length developed and produced, standing distinctly before us ; and now we may combine them, and thus produce the will, the object of all our search thus far, and see what kind of a thing the will is. We are now ready to an- swer the question, " What is the completed will ? " SECT. VI. WHAT IS THE COMPLETED AND ESSENTIAL WILL ? a. The will is the product of all the five elements hitherto discovered ; viz., essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, essential law, and essential liberty. These combining and coalescing form one completed will, perfect and entire in itself, having all the ele- ments indispensable to it in itself, nothing redundant, nothing wanting.' When the essential activity has combined with the essential intelligence, and thus produced individuality ; and when, again, the spontaneity of this essential activity and intelligence has combined with individuality, and produced essential law ; and when, still again, the spontaneity of essential activity, intelligence, and individuality has combined with essential law, and produced liberty, and thus produced all the elements of the will, then its producing force is spent ; it can produce no more elements, for there can be no more ; but it now combines them all into one rounded and completed whole, one spheral unity, and that whole, that unity, is the will. b. Having completed the will as its last and consummating product, the evolving agency of the essential activity and intelligence turns back THE WILL. 81 upon itself, and rounds itself into a whole, circumscribing all the' ele- ments, and compressing them into one living unity. For when liberty is attained, then is there nothing wanting to make a complete will ; and the acting and knowing agency expands no farther, for its vitality is all developed, the elements are all produced, and the will is complete. More would be an excrescence, less would be a de- ficiency. The will has now its own activity, its own intelligence, its own individuality, its own law, its own liberty, and thus it is a complete will, complete in itself. c. Thus the will complete and entire stands forth alone and inde- pendent, composed of its own elements, and self-possessed, self-poised, and self-efficient as a will perfect in itself. All the power which the will has, it has within itself, for as yet no other faculties are in being ; as yet there are no affections, there is no reason, no senses, no conscience, but only will, with its elements alone. And we see that alone it is a full-orbed, full-armed, competent and efficient free-will, having self-activity, self-intelligence, self-authority, self-law, or self-end, and liberty in itself alone as its constituent elements, which give it being. It does not derive any of its powers of efficient action, nor any of its properties as a complete and perfect will, from any- thing out of itself, but has these in itself as constituents of its nature. d. It borrows neither the capability to act, nor the authority to act, nor the law of action, nor the liberty to act, from any other faculty or circumstance, but has them all essentially and efficiently in itself. The will is thus an entirety in itself, a self-acting, self-enlightening, self- directing, self-legislating, and self-enfranchising forge, whose centre and essence are itself, whose elements, like the central forces of nature, press equally in all dh-ections, and ensphere themselves around their own centre, being themselves, each, centre and circumference, substance and quality, component and resultant, in one complete, coalescent, and indivisible whole, self-poised, self-sufficient, and absolute. e. The will as to its own efficiency, composed of such elements, is, therefore, absolute and independent ; has unlimited power in its own sphere of action, being able to act freely and in its own right at all times, with no possibility of any hinderance except by its annihilation : while it lives it has free and absolute power to act, in itself; this is its nature and mechanism. Whether the man has the power to carry out the acts of the will is another question ; but the power of the will in itself to act in its own legitimate function of willing is unlimited, and absolute, and indestructible, and inalienable, save by the death of the will itself. /. Thus is the will a complete will, having in itself the complete power of choice, that is, the efficient power of choice. The occasional or objective power of choice lies out of the will, while the efficient or 11 82 AUTOLOGY. subjective power of choice lies within the will. The will is not appetite, it is not affection, it is not conscience, it is not a mere blind force or spontaneity. It is not a mere fulcrum over which contending- appetites, affections, passions, or motives balance and adjust themselves ; but it is an effective, living agent, having its own activity, intelligence, authority, law, and liberty in itself, and as such is capable of free, independent action whenever it shall have occasion or opportunity to act ; that is, it has absolute power of action within its own sphere. The will is now ready to enter upon its appropriate field of activity, as a free, competent, and efficient disposer of the mind. And this leads us to consider certain "Will Questions," as the relation of the will to the self and substance of the mind, to liberty, and to choice, and some others, before we proceed to the field of the will's action. CHAPTER VII. WILL QUESTIONS. SECT. I. THE RELATION OF THE SELF, THE WILL, AND THE PER- SONALITY, TO EACH OTHER AND TO THE ESSENCE OF THE MIND; AND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE ESSENCE OF THE MIND AND THE ESSENCE OF MATTER. a. The will and the self have been treated as identical through this work, and both of them as identical with the substance or essence of the mind. And this is true ; yet, to avoid confusion, it should be dis- tinctly noted that will and self are identical only so far as the self extends. b. The self is made up of essential activity and essential intelligence combined in one individuality ; this is self proper. Will contains not only these two original elements, essential activity and essential intel- ligence, but also all the remaining elements — essential individuality, which is the self in its proper and restricted sense, and essential law, and essential liberty. c. Thus will is identical with self, to be sure, but it is also some- thing more ; it is self grown up : Self is childhood ; Will is youth ; Per- sonality is manhood. Will and self coalesce, and are the centre and essence of the mind ; while personality is the will with all the faculties of the mind inhering in it, complete and entire, a full mind, will, affections, intellect, and conscience. THE WILL. 83 d. It is right, therefore, to call the will the essence of the mind, and identical with the self. It is right to say that the essence of the per- sonality is in the will, for that is only to say that the will is the essence of the mind. e. From these facts we make the following inferences as to the essence and faculties of the mind, and as to the difference between the essence of the mind and the essence of matter. 1st. If the will is the substance or essence of the mind, then all the properties, qualities, or faculties of the mind — for they all mean the same thing — inhere in the will as their essence or substance. All properties must inhere in some substance ; if they have no substance or essence in which to inhere, they inhere in nothing; and if they inhere in nothing, they are the properties of nothing, and of course are themselves noth- ing. And as the substance or essence of other objects is distinct from the qualities of those objects, so also is the substance or essence of the mind distinct from the properties or qualities of the mind. 2d. We have before shown, in Chapter II. Sect. II., that the substance of the mind differs from the substance of matter in that it has self-con- sciousness ; and as this self-conscious substance was shown to be the me or self, and as this self is shown to be the will, we conclude that the ' substance of mind differs from the substance or essence of matter in the further particular, that it has the power of self-disposition. 3d. But as we have already shown that the act of self-disposition is a free act, of necessity and by its own nature it follows that the substance or essence of the mind differs from, the substance or essence of matter in this other respect, viz., that it is a free, self-disposing activity, and consequently has liberty ; for self-disposition is the essence of liberty, as it is of choice. Every act of choice, therefore, is liberty acting and exercising itself. It is the will showing its liberty. It is the self or essence of the mind disposing of itself. The disposing of the self by an act of choice is the original outgoing of liberty, creating and.mani-. festing itself. The substance or essence of the mind is therefore a free, self-disposing activity, disposing of itself as will, by an act of choice. SECT. II. THE RELATION OF THE WILL TO LIBERTY. a. Liberty we have seen to be a constituent element of the mind. The will and liberty are identical, in that the will has all the elements that liberty has, and then has liberty also. The will is therefore com- posed of liberty, a liberty which embodies all the other elements of the will, and then recombines itself with them to produce the will. b. The will and liberty have the relation of body and soul, except that the soul, in this case, is a constituent of the body, as well as its 84 AUTOLOGY. spirit and life ; for the essential activity and the essential intelligence pro- duce essential individuality, or self, strictly speaking. The combination, again, of individuality, as a distinct element, with the essential activity and the essential intelligence, produces essential law ; and the recom- bination of essential law, as a distinct element, with the essential activity, essential intelligence, and essential individuality, produces liberty, which is the last element of the will ; and as it includes all the other elements, it becomes the living soul of the will. Then the recombination of this essential liberty with the other elements completes the will, and the will becomes the body of which liberty is the soul. c. No new element is added to produce the will ; all were produced when liberty was produced ; and hence liberty is identical with the will so far as it goes, just as self is identical with the will so far as it goes. Will has self, and something more; so will has liberty, and something more. Will is therefore identical with liberty, and is still something more. It has liberty in combination with all the other elements, whereas liberty itself has only the four elements that precede it combined in itself. d. True liberty has liberty in its own nature, yet it is produced by the preceding elements, and has no existence until they combine to create it. Then, being created, its combining with the elements that pro- duced it forms not a new, sixth element, but completes and concludes them all into one will. The will does not therefore exist, and then be- come free, but is itself composed of freedom 'and other elements, which existed before the will, and gave it .existence. This liberty 'is essential and within the will itself. It is not obtained from any external circum- stances or conditions. It is a something which belongs to the nature and the elements of the will ; is underived, and incommunicable, and imperishable ; it is original and absolute liberty within the will itself, and a part of it ; a liberty which, like the life itself of the will, is indis- pensable to its existence. The will can no more exist without being free than it can exist without life. Self-action, self-intelligence, self- authority, and self-end, — these are the element of liberty, as they are of the will ; they are the essence of the soul itself. e. The mind, as we have seen in Chapter II., has both essence and qualities, and that essence we have found to be the self or will, and that will we have seen to be made up of these five elements — essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, essential law, and essential liberty. These elements are also the elements of the essence of the mind inhering in one another, and being mutually substance and quality to each other respectively, yet forming one undivided and in- divisible whole or unit, one single and simple self, will, or essence of the mind, in which all its other faculties inhere, and have being and unity. THE WILL. 85 /. Thus is liberty seen to be, not an adjunct, attendant, or accident of the will, but an element of the mind itself; it is seen to belong to the essence of the mind, without which neither mind nor will could exist. Thus is it plain that liberty is in the will, and not outside of it ; 'that it does not depend on alternatives, or on motives, on either indifference or the power of contrary choice, but that it is in the very nature and being of the will itself, and is its being and its nature. SECT. III. THE RELATION OF THE FREE ACT OF THE WILL, IN CHOOSING, TO THE SPONTANEOUS AND NECESSARY ACTS OF THE OTHER FACULTIES OF THE MIND. a. Choice is the action of the will after it is complete. We have been tracing the action of the elements of the will in their combinations in the formation of the will; now we are able to consider the will as complete, and as acting as a unit, with the force of all its combined ele- ments ; and the act which the will thus puts forth we call choice. This act of choice is the sole act of the will as will. As substance or essence of the mind, it, with its elements, has other functions, such as holding the other faculties of the mind in inherence, and taking cognizance of their doings, and furnishing facts of being and action to the reason ; but as will, it is simply a chooser, and choosing is a work of the complete will, using all its elements. b. We must observe that the several acts by which the elements of the will have combined to form the self — law, liberty, and will — have all been formation acts producing being ; that is, the being of self, the being of law, the being of liberty, and lastly, the being of the will. But now, the existence of the will being complete, its action is not productive of being, but is the action of a being already complete, dis- posing of itself as complete in relation to some other object. c. Choice we have already found to be an act of self-disposition, an act of the will disposing of itself. We shall more clearly see this when we recur to the process, already so frequently gone over, of the will's formation, and then, when the process is complete, go on with the action of the complete will, and mark the different nature of the action. First, the spontaneity of the essential activity and the essential intel- ligence go forth and unite, and by this operation produce the essential individuality, or self. This is the self in its strict sense, though we use the term sometimes for the whole will, not because it includes the will, but the will includes it. Then the spontaneity of the essential activity and the essential in- telligence goes forth and unites with the essential individuality, or self, and, uniting with them, produces essential law. Then, again, the spon- 86 AUTOLOGY. taneity of the essential activity and essential intelligence goes forth and unites with the essential individuality, or self, and the essential law, and produces liberty. And lastly, the spontaneity of the essential activity and the essential intelligence goes forth and unites with essential indi- viduality, essential law, and essential liberty, and forms and completes the will, making them all one unity and one whole. d. And, now, this formative process being complete by the combining of the elements of the will, and the whole rounded up into one entirety as a sphere, the productive agencies cease, and the produced agent begins to act. e. And this will-agent acts in the employment of its own powers in the act of choice. The will, having all the elements compounded and summed up in itself, becomes prime mover in its own right, and laying its free, legislative, sovereign, intelligent, and active command upon all its own forceful and efficient elements, orders them to do its bidding. The will now is in command, and — moved by its own essential activity, under the light of its own essential intelligence, putting forth its own essential individuality, or authority, setting before it its own essential law, or end of action, and exercising its own liberty — disposes of itself with regard to some object of choice; and this is theact of choice, this is choice. Choice is the act by which the will disposes of itself in relation to some object of choice. In the act of choice the will is self-active, self-intelligent, self-commanded, self-legislated, self-freed, and hence its act of choice is a free act. /. And this leads us to consider the relation of choice to the other faculties of the mind. By discerning what they do, we shall see the rela- tion of them to choice, as well as the relation of the will to choice. Choice is the exclusive work and office of the will. No other faculty can perform the act of choice, for the will alone has the efficient power to choose ; the occasional power to choose is in the other faculties of the mind, but the efficient power to choose belongs exclusively to the will. g. But when the actual work of choosing comes to be done, great confusion is liable to arise from confounding the action of the spon- taneity of the affections, or of the intellect, or of the conscience, with the will, and substituting the one for the other. These several mental acts must be kept distinct, or we shall find perpetual contradiction and confusion. That it is not the essential activity or spontaneity that chooses, or can choose, we have abundantly shown. That the essential activity and essential intelligence are constituents of the will, and not, in their action, acts of the will, when the will is complete, we have also shown. Choice is not the act of the essential activity, or of the essential intelligence, but of the complete will, of which they are constituent ele- ments. We may, therefore, dismiss that as settled. THE WILL. 87 h. Then the act of the affections is not an act of choice ; they simply crave or desire, or loathe or abhor. They simply show repugnance or affinity ; but that is not choice. Affectioning is a necessary and purely appetitive act, involuntary and unthinking. i. So the intellect may judge and discriminate ; it may select the best object of choice, and set it before the mind, to be chosen or rejected afterwards : but it does not cnoose ; it acts necessarily, according to the laws of the intellect. It simply discerns and judges facts as they come up, and it is compelled by the laws of intelligence themselves to judge and select just as it does. If it did not, it would be false to its own talent and its own intelligence. Now, such an act of selecting is not a free, but a necessary act, and just as much so as any act of the appetites or the affections. The intellect would be false to itself if it did not select just as its own intelligence decides that it must. The same is true of the conscience in discerning the moral quality of anything ; it also acts necessarily. j. All these actions respectively, as the action of the original essential activity and intelligence in their spontaneity, the action of all and any of the affections, whether individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, gesthetical, or religious, and the action of the intellect also in judging and selecting, and the action of the conscience in moralizing, — all these actions are necessary actions, and not free actions ; while the act of the will in choosing is a free act. k. The whole difficulty and contradiction about the freedom and necessity of the act of choice will be relieved and removed when we keep the will, the affections, the intellect, and the conscience separate and distinct from each other; the will alone having the power of free ac- tion, and all the other faculties having only a necessary and involuntary action ; the will alone having the efficient and subjective power of choice, while all the other faculties have only the objective and occasional power of choice ; that is, they can only furnish the occasions, and the opportunities, and the- objects of choice. I. Edwards and all his school have always confounded the action of the will and the action of the affections ; Locke confounded the will and the understanding ; Kant and his followers confounded the will and the conscience ; others, still, confound the will and the sesthetical affections, such as the love of art and beauty, while they have individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, and religious affections as merely appetitive. They suppose that because the eesthetical affections contemplate purely theoretical and assthetic objects, their cravings and aversions are free acts, and can give freedom to the will ; whereas they only give an alter- native to the other affections, and are of the same nature. There is no liberty in the action of any of the affections, or of the intellect in any of 88 AUTOLOGY. its parts, or of the conscience, but in the will only ; the will alone is free. m. Consequently, if the action of any of the other faculties be mingled with the act of choice, then that act is vitiated, and becomes itself not a free, but a necessary act. All of Edwards's confusion arose out of this. Sometimes he spoke of the will alone, and then he saw its freedom ; anon he mingled its action with that of the affections and the understanding, and then he made it necessary action ; and then again he had it both ways, and thus it became mixed action. And just at this point, where he himself is confused, and his readers are con- fused, and neither he nor they can see their way out, but all are in a mass of contradiction and perplexity, worrying and exhausting themselves, — just there, where they are all overwhelmed and confounded, and not one of them knows either what he himself means, or what Edwards means, or what anybody means, and when all meaning is lost in absurdity, just there they cry out, " Great is Edwards! " great, because " to be great is to be misunderstood," or rather to have nothing that is understandable. Edwards was bewildered, and when he had bewildered anybody else, then he had one admirer. n. Just so they who took sides opposed to Edwards failed, because while he confounded the acts of the will in choice with the affections and the understanding in their action, they confounded the will and choice with the mere spontaneity of the essential activity and the essen- tial intelligence, which also acts necessarily, and has no free action, and of course would vitiate the act of choice whenever it was introduced into it. This Edwards saw, and got his victory by showing, what was true, that their system was just as necessitarian as his, and that their will with its self-determination, which itself had to be predetermined, was just as much a machine as was his, with its strongest motive, as indeed it was. o. It must, then, not be forgotten that the will alone has liberty, the will alone is free, the will alone has the power of free choice, and choice is the act of the will alone ; exclusively and alone must the will choose, while the other faculties must furnish the objects and occasions for choice. The will alone can act freely ; the other faculties act always, and invariably, and by their nature, necessarily. The will alone is the efficient and free chooser. p. Other faculties may sensate the objects of choice as do the senses, but their action is not a choice, and is involuntary and necessary. An- other faculty may cognize the object sensated, as does the reason ; but this action is not a choice, and is also necessary action. Other faculties may crave or loathe, may appreciate or depreciate, may admire or de- spise, love or hate, approve or disapprove an object of choice, and call it agreeable or disagreeable, useful or injurious, benevolent or malevo- THE WILL. 89 lent, beautiful or deformed, divine or devilish ; but this action is not only not a choice with regard to anything, but it is the necessary, and appetitive, and involuntary action of these faculties of the mind. q. Still another faculty of the mind may moralize with regard to an object as an act of choice, and decide that it is right or wrong, that it is in accordance with or repugnant to the rules of duty and the laws of God, and as such ought or ought not to be chosen ; but this is not to choose or refuse the object, but is only to pronounce judg- ment on its moral character, and is not a free but a necessary act. So also may the intellect select an object as, on the whole, the one fitted to be chosen, and set it before the will for that purpose; but this action of the intellect is also necessary and involuntary action. r. All these actions, it will be seen, are not only not free, but are not a choice of an object. They only find out, examine, like or dislike, select and bring forward, the object of choice ; they do not choose ; and in thus finding out, in thus cognizing, in thus liking or disliking, thus regarding as agreeable or disagreeable, as useful or useless, as beautiful or deformed, as benevolent or malevolent, as right or wrong, and in thus selecting an object as on the whole fittest to be chosen, these fac- ulties all act necessarily and involuntarily, but their actions are not choices. s. Here is the point of demarcation between necessary action and free action, between the occasional power of choice, which lies out of the will, and the efficient power of choice, which lies in the will. The former is necessary ; the latter is free : the former does not choose ; it only provides the objects and the occasions of choice ; the latter chooses alone and exclusively, and alone and exclusively has liberty. And when the act and the faculty of choice arc thus discriminated from the other acts and the other faculties of the mind, then there is no more difficulty about the nature or the freedom of the will or of the act of choice. t. That the will is free, and that choice is free, and that the will alone chooses, while the other faculties do not choose, but only procure the objects of choice, and are not free either in their nature or in their ac- tion, is clear, and clears the subject of all its difficulties. This, then, is the relation of spontaneous action to free action, and of the will in the act of choice to the action of the other faculties. It alone chooses, it alone has freedom, it alone can make free choice ; and there is no choice but free choice. All the other acts of the mind are not choices, are not free, and must ever be kept distinct from the acts of the will, which alone are free, and from the will, which alone can choose. 12 90 AUTOLOGY. SECT. IV. THE RELATION OF LIBERTY TO THE ACT OF CHOICE. a. Liberty we have seen to be a constituent of the will, while choice is an act of the will already complete. We combine essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, and essential law, to pro- duce essential liberty, and then combine this liberty again with these essential elements to produce and complete the will ; and when the will is all complete, then it puts forth the act of choice, exercising all its own constituent elements in that act. b. As liberty is a constituent element of the will, of course liberty is exercised in the act of choice ; for the will could no more choose with- out liberty than it could exist without liberty. Liberty is an essential element in the being of the will, and so the will is a free will, and in exercising its elements it must exercise its freedom, and is free both in being and in action. That which is free in its nature cannot be other- wise than free in its action. And the will is composed of freedom ; "it is of freedom all compact; " and when it acts it exercises its own nature, and acts out its inwrought, inborn, and essential freedom in the act of choice. c. The will is the primal centre of all being, action, intelligence, authority, design, liberty, and choice in man. Such a will, forceful, self- ruled, and free, has of course self-government. It is now read}'- and competent to go out and act for itself, to enter upon its own appropriate field, and choose, refuse, announce, and dispose of itself as occasion may be afforded ; for it has its activity, intelligence, authority, law, and liberty in itself. It is self-ruled ; and self-government is liberty every- where, whether in the state or in- the individual : whatever has the elements of self-government in itself has liberty in itself. The will has these, and does direct its own action to its own end ; hence it is free. d. And here we see how this essential freedom of the will, and the action of the will in the- exercise of its fx-eedom, coincide with the nature of the act of choice, as it was given in Chapter III., on the "Nature of Choice." It was there shown historically, and as a matter of consciousness, that the act of choice is an act of self-disposition; that in choosing, the will disposes of the self; and that an act of self- disposition must be a free act in its very nature. Now, we see from the nature of liberty that it consists, in its essence, in self-law or self-end, which is one and the same thing as self-disposition. e. Liberty and choice, then, are one in nature, in that they both con- sist of self-disposition. Self-disposition is liberty, self-disposition is choice. Liberty has, as we have repeatedly seen, self-activity, self- authority, and self-law ; these combined give liberty. And surely self- THE WILL. 91 authority, acting under self-law, is nothing more than an act of self- disposition, and nothing less. Yet it differs from choice in that it is a constituent act of the will by which liberty is produced, while* the act of choice is the complete will disposing of itself in reference to some object of choice. f. It is the self that is compounded into liberty by combining its individuality with self-law ; while it is the complete will that makes a choice by the exercise of its own activity, intelligence, individ- uality, law, and liberty. And as the will and the self are identical, so far as the self goes, so are the nature of freedom and the nature of choice identical, so far as freedom goes. The same self is disposed of, in producing freedom, that the will disposes of in the act of choice, and by the same means, viz., essential individuality or authority, acting ac- cording to essential self-law. Yet in the one case the self is disposed of to create liberty, while in the other it is disposed of to some specific object of choice external to itself. Choice, therefore, embodies liberty, and exercises it in all its actions, in that it disposes of the self. g. The will is ever poised on its own self-law, its uwn self-end of action ; and resting on this poise, it makes and performs all its acts of choice, while completely self-balanced ; and this being self-balanced is liberty. To be able thus to dispose of the self, is liberty ; to have the spring of action, the intelligence of action, and the law of action in one's self, and to rest on one's self as author and end, and then to dispose of the self by this authority and this end, — this is choice, and this is liberty. And this choice and this liberty are the same in nature, whether the will chooses or refuses, whether it chooses the strongest motive or the weak- est, whether it chooses directly or contrariwise. h. The act is the same in all cases, whether the will exercises choice, or contrary choice, or no choice at all ; whether it chooses one thing, or another thing, or nothing, but chooses not to choose, which is to choose liberty ; and all in perfect self-control. In all these cases the act is the same ; it is an act of self-disposition. To have the authority and the end of action in one's self, that, is to have the power of self-disposition ; and self-disposition is freedom, and self-disposition is choice. i. Choice, therefore, has freedom in it, though freedom has not choice in it. Without freedom there could be no choice ; yet there could be freedom without choice, for freedom or liberty is an element that helps to make the will itself. There can therefore be liberty without choice, for liberty must first create the chooser, before there can be any choos- ing done. j. Liberty must first be, before will can be, and before choice can be. They are both constituted of liberty, and cannot be without it. So far forth are will and choice identical with liberty ; yet liberty exists before 92 AUTOLOGY. them and creates them, while they contain liberty, either as being or act, and become and do something more than liberty is or does in itself. Such is the relation of the will and of liberty to choice. SECT. V. THE RELATION OF CHOICE TO CONTRARY CHOICE. 1st. The act of choice disposes of the self, and is a responsible act; this is its nature. It is not so when we merely sensate or cognize, or crave or judge, or moralize or select ; hence these several acts,, though they conduct us along the process to choice, are yet not choices. And the faculties that perform them are different and distinct from each other, and from the faculty that chooses. It is the will that chooses. A choice is a distinct act, whose essence and characteristic are, that it disposes of the self; this is choice. 2d. If the essence of choice is self-disposition, — if in every act of choice the will commits, binds over, and disposes of the self, making it responsible for the act of choice, — then clearly it is a free act in its nature, and incapable by its nature of being controlled or forced with- out destroying it as an act of choice. It must be free or not at all. 3d. It must in all cases also have the power of contrary choice ; for the power of self-disposition in any one direction implies the same power of self-disposition in any other direction. For if an unlimited power of self-disposition does not exist, then no power of self-disposi- tion exists. If I cannot dispose of myself to an opposite thing, then my disposing of myself to a direct thing is not self-disposition, but being disposed of; therefore every self-disposition in any one direction implies the power of self-disposition in an opposite direction, and every choice in one direction implies the power of choice in an opposite direction. 4th. Each disposition of the self in relation to one object of choice is at the same time a disposition of the self in relation to every object of choice. Every act of choice is made, not only in relation to the object chosen, but also in relation to its opposite ; that is, to the thing refused, and to every object of choice then before the mind. The same force of will is employed in relation to them all, and that, too, at the same time, and by the self-same act by which any one of these objects is chosen, in- stead of all the rest. The power of contrary choice, therefore, is identical with the power of direct choice, or the power to choose at all ; as the power to dispose of the self in one direction is identical with the power of self-disposition in any direction whatever, or of self-disposition at all. The power of self-disposition and the power of choice, as we have seen, are identical. So are choice and contrary choice, for both choice and contrary choice are equally and simply the power of self-disposition THE WILL. 93 SECT. VI. THE RELATION OF LIBERTY AND NECESSITY TO THE EFFICIENT AND TO THE OCCASIONAL POWER OF CHOICE. a. These questions, as they relate to choice, belong to the two differ- ent departments of the power of choice, and the two different . kinds of power of choice, viz., what we have denominated the efficient, and the occasional power of choice, the former lying in the will, and the latter lying out of the will, and in the other faculties of the mind, which fac- ulties inhere in the will as their centre and substance, yet are wholly dis- tinct and different from it in their nature and action. b. When the affections, and the intellect, and the conscience present an object, and furnish an opportunity for choice, they act according to the necessary laws of their own nature ; they act as their own nature compels them to act, and in this respect and in relation to these things the power of choice is not a free, but a necessary power, and the exer- cise of it is not a free, but a necessary act. In procuring an object of choice, and in furnishing an opportunity for choice, the action is not free, but necessary ; for all these things are done, not by the will, but by the affections, the intellect, and the conscience ; and they have no power of free action, but act necessarily. c. But when the will acts, when it disposes of itself, which is the self, the me, the ego, to the object of choice, then the act is in its own nature a free act; it is peformed by the will exclusively, and is a- free, responsible act. The will alone has, and the will alone exercises', the efficient power of choice ; and it exercises it after the affections, the intellect, and the conscience have furnished it with an object and an opportunity of choice. In furnishing this opportunity and this object of choice to the will, the affections, the intellect, and the conscience act necessarily. But in taking the object of choice, in choosing it, the will acts freely in the exercise of full liberty ; for by the act of choice, by exerting the efficient power of choice, the will disposes of itself, and commits the whole self to the object of choice, and makes it its own. The act of choice, then, is a free act, and the will in choosing acts in liberty. The act of the other faculties, however, the affections, the intellect, and the conscience, by which the object of choice is procured for choice, but not chosen, and by which the opportunity for choice is afforded, but the act of choice is not performed, is not a free, but a necessary act. d. By the other faculties of the mind there is no free action, and no object of choice is chosen ; they only procure the object of choice that the will may afterwards choose or refuse it ; but when the will comes .actually to choose or refuse an object, when it puts forth the efficient 94 AUTOLOGY. power of choice in really choosing or refusing an object, then is a free act performed ; then it disposes of the whole self, and exerts liberty, for self-disposition is the essence of liberty. Thus are liberty and neces- sity separated the one from the other. Thus are they shown to belong to different faculties of the mind, and to different acts performed ; and thus let them remain .forever distinct. This mingling and confounding of them has caused the confusion of a sufficient number of heads and theories already, and has done much harm to the cause of mental science, of theology, and of religion. SECT. VII. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SELECTING AND CHOOSING. a. This difference has already been clearly pointed out in Chapter III., Section I., on " What are the antecedents to choice." We here call attention to it again for the purpose of preparing the way for the question, "Why does the will choose one thing rather than another?" b. The act of selecting an object comes, as we have above seen, after sensating it, after affectioning it, after judging of it, and after moral- izing upon it. These several steps having been passed, then it is selected, and after that it is chosen. c. Now, this selecting is an act of the intellect, while choosing is an act of the will ; or rather selecting is done by the occasional, and choos- ing by the efficient, power of choice. In selecting, the intellect acts in- voluntarily, and weighs all facts, all pleasures and pains, all utilities and equities, and, considering all, selects the object which, on the whole, it judges the best to be presented to the will as, an object of choice. This selecting of an object as fittest for choice is purely an intellectual judg- ment, a judgment as to pleasure and pain, profit and loss, right and wrong, practicability or impracticability, and no more ; it is not a choice of the object, but merely a selecting of the object. It involves no re- sponsibility save as to the faithful use of the faculties : as to what the result of this judgment may be, if made according to the best intelli- gence, and the best use of the faculties employed, no responsibility is incurred by the act of selecting, for it is an involuntary and necessary act of the intellect, working "according to its Own laws. d. But not so with the will. When it chooses, it exercises liberty, which carries with it accountability, and, consequently, guilt or inno- cence. In choosing, the will disposes of the self to the object chosen. In selecting, on the contrary, the intellect only passes a judgment ac- cording to the laws of its own intelligence, for which it is not respon- sible, only so that it uses its best intelligence and ability in the act of selecting. But the will, by the act of choice, disposes of the self to the thing chosen. It commits and binds the whole man to it. Self- THE WILL. 95 disposition is the essence of choice and the essence of liberty, while a merely intellectual judgment is the essence of the act of selecting the object of choice. SECT. VIII. WHY DOES THE WILL CHOOSE ONE THING RATHER THAN ANOTHER. a. This question involves an ambiguous assumption, against which, in the first instance, it is indispensable to be put on our guard, viz., "that choosing a thing is selecting a thing." The whole interest of this question, and the whole perplexity of mind that leads to asking it, lies precisely in this assumption, viz., that choos- ing is selecting. A right understanding of the act of choice would never have permitted the asking of such a question ; that is, it would never have seemed necessary to ask such a question, if the nature of the act of choice, as we have given it, had been understood and regarded. This is not, therefore, in reality, a question of choice, but of select- ing ; and as such, it has been answered in Chapter III., and also in the preceding section. b. But there is another ambiguous assumption lying hid under the question, " Why does the will choose one thing rather than another ?" and that is, that " it is a question of liberty ; " i. e., that the freedom of the will and the freedom of choice are involved in the reason why the will chooses one thing rather than another. But this is an error also, for the question of the will's freedom, or the freedom of choice, has no manner of connection with the reason why the will chooses one thing rather than another. The liberty of the will, as we have seen, and shall see, is a tiling dependent on other principles and causes, and is a mat- ter lying in the nature of the will, and in the nature of choice, and a thing settled and established long before the question, " Why does the will choose one thing rather than another?" ever arose, or could arise at all. The will's liberty is a fact involved and settled in the question, " What is choice ? " and " Why does the will choose at all ? " and is in no way dependent on the answer to the question now before us. c. We now take up this question, " Why does the will choose one thing rather than another?" and reply, that the reason why the will chooses at all, is to show its liberty, exert its power, authority, proprietor- ship, and sovereignty, and to dispose of itself autocroiically. And this, consequently, is the first reason why it chooses one thing rather than another. d. But further, if still the question be asked, " Is the will free, and, if free, why it chooses one thing rather than another,"* the reply is, the will, however it acts, has but one office, one thing to do, to wit : 96 AUTOLOGY. to assert itself, and to dispose of itself; and this one thing- it always does, which way soever it may act or whatever it may choose ; and this self-disposition is always and everywhere liberty, and the essence of liberty. e. Now, in what direction soever the will may act, or whatever it may choose, it always does this : it disposes of itself, it shows its lib- erty. And if it does this, then no matter, so far as liberty is concerned, how it_ acts, or in what direction it acts, or what it chooses, or why it chooses one thing instead of another, or what cause induces, persuades, or inclines it to choose one thing rather than another r still, in all cases, and in every case, it is free ; free by the nature of its own act, by self-disposition, which it performs in every case, and for which, as we have seen, it has all the elements and forces in itself, independent of all the other faculties of the mind which inhere in it, and grow out of it. Whatever else may or may not be known, that the will is free, and as- serts, and acts, shows, exercises, and demonstrates its freedom in every act which it performs, is known; and this is the one great point disen- tangled from all others, and established beyond controversy on its own foundation. f. But as to what induces the will to act in one direction rather than another, or why it chooses one thing rather than another, or why it dis- poses of itself in one way rather than in another, or why it shows its liberty in one way rather than in another, — the reply is, that it is a matter of no consequence whatever, so far as its freedom is concerned ; and that so far as it may affect freedom, the will can afford to choose one thing rather than another, for any reason conceivable ; for its freedom would neither be abridged nor enhanced, nor the liberty of the will in any respect affected by any motive whatever. g. To choose a thing because it presents what is called the strongest motive, would in no way affect or abridge the liberty of the will, for its liberty does not depend on that. Liberty does not consist in having an alternative, but is secured by its own nature, and the nature of its own act. The act of the will is free, whether it has an alternative object of choice or not. h. Neither, should the will choose what is called the weaker motive, would it thereby show any more liberty, or enhance its liberty, for its liberty is already provided for and secured by its own nature, and can- not be diminished or enhanced by any object of choice whatever. The will acts just as freely when shut up to one object of choice, as when it has an infinite number of objects of choice. i. Neither does' the freedom of the will consist in having an alterna- tive in some other affection than the one at the time interested, nor in the conscience, nor anywhere else. No alternative can give liberty, if THE WILL. 97 it does not exist before. For if the will should choose a direct object, or, instead of it, its alternative or opposite, the acts would both be of the same nature, and if the one had not liberty,the other could not have. Liberty consists, not in being able to take one of two objects, nor a third as alternative to either, or both, but in self-disposition, alike in each and every act which it performs. j. It is asked why the will chooses one thing rather than another : the reply is, that this question has no pertinence as to the matter of the lib- erty of the will. The will is just as free when it chooses one thing as when it chooses another, and just as free when it chooses for one reason as when it chooses for another. If the will chooses an object for the weakest motive, it shows no more liberty than when it chooses it for the strongest motive ; nor does it show any want of liberty whatever when it chooses an object for the strongest motive. The freedom of the will has no connection with any motive for choosing or refusing anything. f k. Away then with the false assumption contained in the question, " Why does the will choose one thing rather than another?" as if this question had anything to do with the will's freedom or necessity. It has nothing to do with either. The will's freedom consists in its power of self-disposition, and in nothing else, no matter what may be its choice, or what may be the nature or degree of its motive for choice. The liberty of the will lies in its having its own activity, its own intelli- gence, and its own law or end of action in itself, and in that in every act of choice in any direction, and for any. motive, strong or weak, it disposes of itself: this is liberty. Then let this " perturbed spirit " which distracts and bewilders with the ignisfatuus light of the question, " What makes the will choose one thing rather than another," assuming that this question has something to do with the will's liberty, be forever laid. We now lay it, with the denial that it has anything whatever to do with the will's liberty. And let it never be let loose nor suffered to go at large again to vex the brain of theologians or metaphysicians, feeble or strong. " Bequiescat in pace." I. The whole confusion which this question, " Why does the will choose one thing rather than another," makes, arises out of confounding the efficient power of choice with the occasional power of choice ; i. e., the act of the will in choosing, which is free, with the acts of the other faculties of the mind in selecting, which are not free. •m. We say, then, positively, that when the will commits itself to one thing instead of another, it is devoutly to be hoped that it does so for some sensible reason, since it neither increases nor diminishes its freedom thereby : and since also the object of choice has already been selected and decided upon by the other faculties, whose office it is to do so. 13 98 AUTOLOGY. n. The object of choice has already run the gantlel of all the fatuities of the mind, and has been passed upon by them all, and lias at last been selected as the best and littest object of choice : surely there is every reason which the mind can give why the will should choose that object which the other faculties have selected. And the will dues choose it, and the reason why the will dues choose it is, that it has thus already been passed upon and selected by the other faculties of the mind. The other i'aeulties, the affections, the reason, and the conscience, have acted involuntarily, and have exercised themselves in investigating and balancing pleasure and pain, profit and loss, right and wrong, and have been weighed down by the strongest motive, greatest interest, or highest worth, and have decided accordingly. But the will, in chousing and disposing of itself' to this object so selected, and for the same rea- son, shows its liberty in the nature of its own act of self-disposition, while it takes the object which the other faculties have selected as the best to be chosen. And thus we come to the end of this matter, and to the reason why the will chooses one thing rather than another, and why the will shows its liberty in one way rather than another, or in choosing one thing rather than another. It is because all the faculties have already, in their best reason, judgment, and preference, decided that that is the best object of choice. Therefore the will shows its lib- erty and disposes of itself by taking that object of choice. o. The other faculties of the mind, in acting with regard to the object of choice, act not freely, but according to the laws of their own na- ture, which is appetitive, and rational, and ethical, and not free ; and hence that object is selected, not by choice, but by appetitive, pruden- tial, testhetical, or ethical affinity, or mere rational calculation and con- clusion, all of which by their own nature act involuntarily and without liberty. But when all this is done, then the will disposes of the self to that object by a free act, showing its liberty in the act of disposing of the self to it, and in thus choosing and appropriating it, and in com- mitting the self to it. Such is the act of choice, and such is the free- dom of the will, and such is the reason why the will chooses one thing rather than another. p. Let it be remembered that when the question is asked, " Why does the will choose one thing rather than another?" there is an illu- sion upon the mind. The real question intended to be asked is this: "Why does the mind select one thing rather than another ?'' it is not a question of choosing, but of selecting ; not of the will, but of the other faculties. The answer, then, is, the mind selects one thing rather than another because the affections, reason, and conscience, any one or all of them, decide that such an object is the best to be se- lected. But the will disposes of the self to that object for the same THE WILL. 99 reason that it would dispose of itself to any other object ; that is, for the sake of disposing of itself, and of showing- its liberty ; and it could show liberty just as effectually, and dispose of the self just as effect- ually, by choosing any other object as by choosing the one thus se- lected for it. Yet it is in harmony with the mental economy that the will show liberty aud self-disposition in the way that the reason, con- science, and heart judge best, and not in any other way. SECT. IX. CAN ANY POWER, GOOD OR BAD, CONTROL THE WILL INEVITABLY, WITHOUT DESTROYING ITS LIBERTY ? a. This brings up the old controversy of God and Satan, found in the Book of Job, and the old question of irresistible grace, immediately and clearly before us. The reply is, that it is not a question of liberty, but a question of power, that is here brought before us : it refers not to the will, which is the efficient power of choice, but to the affections, reason, and conscience, which are the occasional power of choice. With this premised, the matter will be placed in its true light when it is asked, ."Can God inevitably convert a soul if he wishes to? or, is the soul able to prevent God from so doing?" The reply is, God can convert a soul if he sees fit to do so. To illustrate : — b. Here is a jury trial. On the one side is an able, learned, and elo- quent lawyer, having in his favor all the law, all the facts, and all the arguments and the persuasions, and all the inducements, with which to address the jury; and on the other side there is a weak and incompetent lawyer, with a bad cause, and with all the facts, and all the arguments, and all the law, right, justice, mercy, and faith of the case against him. Which, with an ordinary jury, would be likely to win ? We should say that with any ordinary jury of twelve men, citizens and neighbors, the side of the case first described would inevitably win, because that side was in every sense of the word the stronger side. c. We should see also that this was not a case of liberty, but a case of strength purely, and that the jury, in being convinced and persuaded to give verdict for the party first described, exerted and exercised their full liberty, unimpaired, as much as they would if they had cast their verdict the other way. So, when God seeks to convert a soul, and the soul opposes itself, God has the talent, the learning, the argument, the eloquence, the truth, the right, all on his side. The soul is weak in talent, wrong in its cause, and all the facts, equities, interests, and per- suasions are against it. Must not God, then, inevitably carry his point, and persuade the soul to repentance ? God has not only extraordinary intellectual and moral power, but he has also his own Holy Spirit giving him spiritual power, 100 AUTOLOGY. which man lias not and cannot have, with which to point his argu- ments and inspire his persuasion. God must, therefore, inevitably carry his cause against the mere human power of the soul, in persuading it to repent, and in converting it to a knowledge of the truth. Now, obvi- ously, this is not a question of liberty, but of talent, not of liberty, but of persuasiveness, where the soul has just the same liberty that God lias, and exercises it to the last ; but the fact is, God is too intellectual, too eloquent, too persuasive, too talented for the soul, and hence can gain his cause over the soul, and carry his point, and inevitably convert the soul unto himself; and the soul, in yielding to the arguments of God and the persuasiveness of God, by which it qpnsents to be converted, exercises just as much freedom as it would in yielding to the arguments of Satan, or to its own arguments and persuasions in refusing to be converted to God; and thus is this question of irresistible grace settled as a question of comparative talent, eloquence, .persuasiveness, and ability between God and the soul, and not at all as a question of liberty. d. This is not a question whether liberty can be compelled without ceasing to be liberty, but it is a question as to who has the greater in- fluence, talent, persuasion, skill, and power, as an advocate, to win the soul, God or man, God or Satan; and the answer is, therefore, plain that God can inevitably carry his point, and convert a soul in spite of itself, and in spite of Satan, if he is of a mind to do so ; and that, not by for- cing the soul's liberty and destroying it, but by the exercise of greater talent and wanner love, more knowledge, tact, skill, and argument in persuading and saving souls, than man or Satan can wield in destroying them. The simple fact is, that God is the most talented, the most lov- ing, most influential, most winning, and has the best cause, and there- fore He can inevitably master Satan, and the soul itself in the matter of persuading it to life. God can persuade to life more effectually than the soul and Satan can persuade to death, and when he will, he can save a soul in spite of them. When the nature of God's grace is spoken of, it may truly be said that it is resistible, or evitable ; but when the amount- of God's grace is spoken of, then is it truly irresistible. e. So also when liberty is spoken of, it cannot in its own nature be forced, and in its own nature it can resist anything, God, man, devil, or any blind force of brute or nature. Liberty is in its nature infinite and absolute, and no God, no man, no devil can force it. They may bind the man, or destroy him, but they cannot force his liberty. Yet though liberty cannot be forced, it can be persuaded, and an almighty persuasion is just as inevitable as an almighty force. God can, therefore, as a question of comparative persuasive power, inevitably convert a soul. Let it not be forgotten that this is a question of power, and not of liberty; and it is the confounding of these two questions which has made THE WILL. 101 the dispute between Calvinists and Arminians. If a fleet race-horse and an ox are made competitors in a race, the horse will inevitably beat the ox, and the contest will be one of power and speed, and not one of liberty. The power of the horse to beat the ox will certainly be resistible in its nature, but not in its degree or amount. The ox, if goaded on, will resist the speed of the horse to his utmost; but the horse will beat him, and that by the irresistibleness of the amount of speed, which the ox can never ultimately resist, try he ever so hard and ever so long ; the horse will inevitably beat him in the end. So is the grace of God irresistible in amount, though not in its nature ; and God will always and inevitably win by the amount of his grace, whenever he chooses to do so, and no soul can prevent or ultimately resist him. God's love, in its nature, is resistible ; the Holy Spirit, in its nature, is resistible, and may be grieved ; but God's love and Spirit, in their amount, when he chooses to wield them, can always persuade any soul to repentance, and in this way are irresistible. Grace is resistible • in nature, but not in amount, when God pleases to employ it. God can never force human liberty, but he can, by his almighty persuasiveness and love, inevitably win to life any soul which he chooses so to win ; and the contest between God and the sinner, when God seeks to convert him, is not one of liberty against force, but of moral power against moral power, or of persuasiveness against persuasiveness. SECT. X. HAVE BRUTES A WILL ? a. This question is treated at length in Part III., in connection with the question of the brute intellect ; and for the sake of unity in the discussion, it is now chiefly deferred to that place. Yet it may be said, in brief, that brutes have not a will, but only a self. This may be shown by the fact, well known, that brutes never exercise freedom or deliberate choice, but always act appetitively, without reflection, and from blind impulse and necessity. b. The human will we have seen, in Chapter VI., on the " Vital and Dj'namical Construction of the Will," to be composed of five elements ; viz., essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, essen- tial law, and essential liberty ; the last three produced by combining the first two, and all combining in one will. c. In the brute structure these two primordial elements — essential activity and essential intelligence, never develop beyond their first com- bination, by which they produce simply a self; while in man the de- velopment goes on from self, or individuality, to law and liberty, and will, before it ceases. In the brute the primordial elements have clearly no power at 'all to develop themselves beyond the simple self produced 102 AUTOLOGY. by their first combination ; as a fact, they never did so develop them- selves d. This proves not only that the brute has no will, as it is without the elements of self-law and liberty, but that the brute is of entirely a different nature from man, different in degree not only, but in kind. The essential activity of the brute and the essential intelligence of the brute must be totally different from the corresponding elements in man, from' the fact that they do not, they never did, and never can, develop them- selves beyond a mere self, constituted by their first and only combination. There is no evidence that these elements ever have produced either self- law, or liberty, or will, as man's primordial elements always do; the brute and the human are consequently totally distinct. SECT. XI. WILL-POWER. a. Will-power is the power of free cause. It is the power to turn the energies of the mind to any given end, and to achieve from free cause what in all other departments of the mind is done from necessary cause. Will-power is more than negative liberty, or mere opportunity. It is the power of employing force at will, and that for an end out of the will itself, and out of the mind itself. By free choice of the will man chooses the thing to be done, and commands the forces under its control to perform it. The peculiarity of will-power is that it is the power to forbear as well as to do. It is the exercise of liberty, and is confined to that exercise. , It is not necessary to the exercise of liberty that it be able to do the thing which it chooses ; its liberty is complete when it actually exercises choice, and stops there. The power of choice, then, and the power of liberty are identical, and are the peculiar power of the will. b. But will-power manifests itself in originating movements in those forces of nature which come under its control. It can set in operation the affections, the intellect, the conscience, the bodily organs, the feet and hands, and the forces of nature, as wind and water, steam and elec- tricity. Particularly in cultivating the earth, in navigating the rivers and oceans, in roads and brid'ges, engines and machines, — in all this, will- power comes out, originating movements and superinducing processes upon the existing order of things, which would otherwise not have ex- isted. Will-power uses the mariner's compass and guides the ship to a des- tined port, irrespective of the usual operations of nature, yet employing nature's forces and superintending and compelling them to its own purpose. c. Thus it is the office and nature of will-power to begin movements, and combine forces, and command them, as servants and soldiers, to do THE WILL. 103 its bidding. Thus said the centurion to Christ, " Speak the word and my servant " (lying on a distant bed of sickness) " shall be healed, for I, also, am a man set under authority ; I say to one, go, and he goeth, and to another come, and he cometh; " so can you also command nature's forces, for they are your servants, and they shall do your bidding. This is the peculiar nature of will-power ; it is free power; it can command and control other powers, and originate new movements and new opera- tions in nature, which nature herself never could have set in motion by her own action. d. Thus God began man and nature, which had no being before; and thus man in nature begins the mechanical arts, which had no being before, and which nature had no power to begin. Thus all through nature we find that God has made successive beginnings by will-power, which nature herself could not give, and thus all through human history has man by will-power made new beginnings in inventions and arts, which nature never could have begun. This is will-power: it can begin things, and can control the forces of nature to free and chosen ends. e. The difference between the will-power of God -and the will-power of man is this : God can by mere force of will give being where it did not exist before ; he can begin existence itself; whereas man by his will can only choose to begin a being, but cannot actually cause and produce it. Man's effective power is confined to changing and controlling beings and forces already existing. He can inaugurate new movements and new combinations, but cannot begin a new existence ; that is the prerogative of God alone ; to begin a new being is to create, and God alone can create. A miracle may be either the creation of a new being or force, or a new combination and use of old forces. This last is, how- ever, a miracle only in a comparative sense, and for the time being. When man comes to make such combinations, they cease to be miracles. A true miracle is creative in its nature ; to work a miracle is to create. SECT. XII. CONCLUSION. a. We have now a will perfect in itself ; yet though a perfect will, it is nothing more. 6. It is not a mind ; it has neither affections, intellect, nor conscience ;. it is only the will, the centre, essence, or substance of the mind, contain- ing all the germs and elements of a complete personality, but as yet un- developed. It is not as yet a person, it is only a will ; it is more than a mere self, but less than a complete person. It stands alone in its central solitude, yet to receive the faculties of a perfect manhood. It is the essence or substance of the mind, in which all the other fac- 104 AUT0L0GY. ulties are to inhere, and out of which they spring-. It is a live, efficient, intelligent, free power, nothing more. c. In the first instance, it needs some faculties to give it interest in an external world. Secondly, it needs some faculty by which it can come into contact with the external world, and cognize the objects which it there finds. And thirdly, it needs a law of action over it, as a ride of moral duty for all its actions in the external world. These things will be found to be, 1st, The Affections ; 2d, The Intellect with the Sense ; and 3d, The Conscience. These being supplied, it will become a com- plete personality, a complete mind, a perfect man, the intelligent and responsible subject of God's government, prepared for action, capable of right and wrong, of holiness and uuholiness, of reward and penalty, of happiness or of woe. d. We are now ready to enter upon the investigation of these faculties of the mind. They constitute, as we have already seen, the occasional or objective power of choice, while the will, as we have just shown, consti- tutes the efficient or subjective power of choice. They constitute the qualities of the mind, as the will is its substance ; and in investigating them, and in finding their places and functions in the economy of the mind, we shall see how all these faculties, and all their knowledge, spring from the elements of the will already found, viz., its essential activity and essential intelligence, — the two great poles of all mental operations, whether of acting or knowing — and that the mind., when complete, is a unit in being and in action. PART II. THE AFFECTIONS. THE OCCASIONAL POWER OF CHOICE. — THE EMPIRE OF THE WILL. CHAPTER I. THE NATURE OF THE AFFECTIONS AND THEIR RELATION TO THE WILL. SECT. I. THE AFFECTIONS BELONG TO THE OCCASIONAL POWEE OF CHOICE. a. We have already seen that the will is the substance of the mind, and that as such it is a complete self, holding the faculties of the mind in inherence ; that the will is a self-efficient and free agent, capable of originating and directing its own action, and determining it to a known and intelligent end. b. But as yet that end can only be the self, as opposed to everything else ; as yet, it is' only a self. It has a spring to self-action in the essen- tial activity, a law or end of action for that activity in the individuality, giving the capability of self-action. It has the liberty of self-action which the union of the law of individuality with the essential activity gives. And it has the intelligence which the consciousness gives, relat- ing to the self, and its acts, and such facts as are involved in giving this knowledge. And this is all. It is thus a complete agent ; a self; hav- ing the efficient power of choice, capable of choosing from its own ac- tivity, and law, and liberty ; and is therefore independent. c. But it must be remembered this is only the efficient,, it is not the occasional power of choice. The will as yet stands alone. It knows nothing of the external world, save that it is an undefined, limitless ob- jectivity. It has no capability of knowing any more about it. It has only the capability of knowing itself. It has as yet no faculty by which 14 105 106 AUTOLOGY. it can know external phenomena, in their distinctions and varieties ; in- deed, it has as yet no primary ideas with which to know or comprehend them. It is capable of knowing' primary facts which lie within itself, and does know them, but not external facts, nor primary ideas, nor prin- ciples. d. Some faculty is needed by which it can know primary ideas, and by which it can cognize the content and material of the outer world ; and some susceptibility is also needed, by which it can take an interest in an outer world, and which may become objects of choice to the will ; and some rule of right must be supplied and placed over the will, by which it shall govern its acts of choice, when it comes into the field of its operation. And when these are possessed, it will have the occa- sional power of choice. e. The occasional power of choice, as distinguished from the efficient power of choice, is that which furnishes the occasions for choice, or the conditions under which choice is possible, and lies out of the will, yet within the person ; while the efficient power of choice lies within the will, and gives the actual power of choosing, when the occasion is af- forded.. More fully, the occasional power of choice consists of the in- tellect, the affections, and the conscience within the person, and the ex- ternal world lying outside of the man altogether. /. With this last we have to do only incidentally. Our attention is confined to the mind, and what composes it. Thus possessing both the efficient and the occasional power of choice, the will is fully able to put forth a complete act of choice. We now pass out of the will as centre and substance of the mind, and come to the examination of the faculties or the qualities of the mind. g. We must have some additional faculty for giving a knowledge of the external world ; for the essential intelligence that enters into the composition of the will cannot look out upon the external world and know it, for it has neither the power of perceiving phenomena nor of comprehending ideas. h. We must have something, some properties or affections, that will give us an interest in the external world, and be objects of choice, and a field of action to the will ; for the essential activity which enters into the construction of the will is neither a susceptibility for any specific interest in an outer world, nor any object of choice to the will ; it is only a component of the will. i. So also must we have a moral law over the will ; for the essential individuality is simply law in the will as part of its being, giving it an end of action, and consequently liberty in itself, and is not at all a moral law over the will, already complete as guide for its choices in the ex- ternal world. THE AFFECTIONS. 107 j. All these are, that the will may be. They are not qualities of a will, but elements of its being 1 . They give it being and the efficient power of choice. They do not afford the occasional power and actuality of choice. There is need of a capability of knowing and feeling an interest in the objects of choice, and of a law to direct the will in the acts of choice, over and above the primary elements. k. The will, in short, must have a law of action, and a field of ac- tion, outside of itself, and also a faculty for knowing the external world. And these will have an inherence in itself, as a conscious unity, yet will be out of itself. I. The power of choice thus consists of the efficient power and the occasional power. The efficient power lies in the will or substance of the mind. The occasional power lies in two things; first, in the facul- ties or qualities of the mind which lie out of the will, and are no part of . it, yet inhere in it, and are recognized by the self-consciousness, and thus come within the unity of the same person ; and second in the external objects and opportunities of choice. in. And here we may re-state the difference between a self and a will, and between a will and a person. A self is composed of essential ac- tivity and essential consciousness. A will combines with these essen- tial self, law, and liberty, giving it the efficient power of choice. A person is a complete mind, having self and will united, or a self com- pleted into a will, as its centre or substance, giving rt the efficient power of choice, and then adding the affections, and the intellect, and the conscience, as the faculties or qualities of the mind, giving it also the occasional power of choice. n. Thus self, will, and person are different, yet in man all consolidate into one. The self and will consolidate to form the substance of the mind. The affections, the intellect, and the conscience are the qualities of that substance. The person is made up of the self, will, affections, intellect, and conscience, or of the will and the qualities that inhere in it. o. The efficient power of choice, then, lies in the will ; the occasional power of choice lies out of the will, and in the affections, intellect, con- science, and the external world. The existence and presence of external things as subjects of cognition and of subjective interest, are requisite, of course, to the fact and the exercise of the occasional power of choice ; but these lie out of the person altogether, and are not, therefore, the subject of .our present inquiry. p. In entering upon the world of the affections, it must be observed that we pass entirely out of the dominion of liberty and free agency, and come into that of necessity and of involuntary powers. We leave the will and its freedom behind, and go out into the realm of the affections, 108 AUTOLOGY. the intellect, and the conscience, where necessity reigns supreme over all. The will alone has freedom. The affections, the intellect, and the conscience act necessarily and according- to the laws of their own mechanism. And while the will, as the efficient power of choice, is free, and chooses freely, they, as the occasional power of choice, are not free, and act necessarily. q. And just here is the great difficulty with some authors on this subject ; a failure to keep distinct these two powers of choice — the efficient and the occasional ; the efficient being in the will, and free ; the occasional being in the other faculties, and not free ; the will alone having liberty and the efficient power of choice ; the affections, t lie intellect, and the conscience having the occasional power of choice, and having no liberty, but acting always necessarily and according to the laws of their own natures. These are called the occasional power of choice, because they furnish the opportunities and the objects for choice. r. The questions of liberty and necessity find their limits and demar- cations here. If by choice is meant that which the will does, it is free. If by choice is meant what the other faculties do, it is not free. s. The part which the affections and the intellect do, in furnishing the objects and the opportunities of choice, is done necessarily according to affectional, appetitive, rational, and ethical laws. /. The part which the will does in disposing of the self to the object of choice is freely done in the exercise of its own free power, and is the sole reponsible act of the mind ; that is, it is the act alone which com- mits and binds over the self to its consequences, as innocent or guilty, right or wrong. u. An act of the affections in their spontaneous and involuntary movement does not imply guilt or innocence, neither does an act of the intellect, nor of the conscience ; for they are not free. But the will is free, and its acts are therefore right or wrong, and it is responsible. v. Now, the affections are the empire of the will, and we are thus logically brought to this next department of the mind. The will as yet has no empire ; it has its authority as executive, but as yet it has no subjects, no people, no empire to govern, or, properly, no objects of choice to choose. The affections are the subjects of the will's government, the objects of the will's choices. w. Chronologically, in the mind's actual operations, the intellect would seem to come first, but logically, in building up the mind as a structure, the affections are the first in order. The office of the intellect is to gather knowledge. The interest to do this, and the interest in it after it is done, lies in the affections, or susceptibilities. Under their impulse the knowledge of facts and prin- THE AFFECTIONS. . 109 ciples is gained, and thrown back upon them, and they, thus affected, become the objects of choice to the will. There would be no interest to know anything, no interest in anything known, but for the affections, and, of course, nothing for the will to choose or refuse. SECT. II. THE AFFECTIONS THE EMPIRE OF THE WILL. o. It must here be observed, that the affections are not the motive power to choice, lying back of the will ; nor the efficient power of choice, lying in the will ; nor are they the moral law over the will, but they are the objects of choice to the will. b. The will never chooses directly a thing which the intellect per- ceives as an external object, but it chooses or refuses the affection which the perceived object awakens. The object is taken or refused only as it is adapted to gratify the affection or not. The will has noth- ing directly to do with out-door or external objects. The affections are the subjects of its choices, and compose the empire of its dominion. c. And that this relation of the affections to the will may be fully understood, we shall first examine them as a whole, constituting our susceptible nature ; and secondly, separate them into classes and in- dividuals, that the whole empire, the several provinces, and the partic- ular subjects of the will, as well as its executive acts of choice and self- disposition, may fully appear. d. We have seen that the will, or self, has, as its constituent elements, essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, essential law, essential liberty ; constituting not only a complete self, but a complete will. But this self, or will, takes on other properties, by which it is enlarged, and is perfected into a person. e. In the first instance, it takes on an affectional or susceptible nature, and this nature springs out of the essential self, and particularly out of the first of the two primordial elements of the self and the mind, viz., essential activity, or life. /. We shall hereafter see that the intellect springs from the other essential element of the self, or mind, viz., essential intelligence ; and that the conscience, like the will, is composed of them both ; yet not both or either directly, but from both after they have become, the one affection, and the other intellect. g. Thus will is a compound of essential activity and essential intel- ligence combined and recombined with their successive products until it is complete. h. The affections are an outgrowth of the essential activity alone. When healthy and natural, they are a growth on the will. When unhealthy, they are a swelling, or fungus. 110 . AUTOLOGY. i. The intellect is an outgrowth of the essential intelligence, produced until it becomes reason and the senses. j. The conscience is an affection growing out of all the affections, and an intelligence, or a rational law, growing out of the whole intellect com- bined in one chief and supreme ethical judge over the whole man ; this is the last and highest faculty of the mind. k. All these growths and developments, or deposits upon the will, enlarge and perfect it into a person, a complete rational soul, which in a body is perfected manhood. I. The first growth upon the outside of the will, of which the will is a centre, stock, body, substance, or essence, is that of the affections. m. Springing from the central life, the affections blossom out on the surface of the will as beautiful 'and varied flowers ; or they enlarge and swell into soft and sensitive protuberances ; or they deposit themselves as spirited and sparkling secretions of sentiment ; or they enwrap the will as a warm, elastic, circumambient atmosphere, shooting forth, as fervent and glowing rays of light and heat, in every direction ; yet inhering perpetually in the will, and convolving around it. n. The whole mind, as to the relations of its faculties, may be fitly compared to a volcanic mountain. o. The deep, central, self-sustained, and eternal fires, in the burning centre, stand for the will. p. The hot and glowing lava, that oozes from crevices, or flows over the top and rolls down over the cone-like sides, and settles in pools, or hardens into stone, represent the affections in all their various states, constituents, and characters. q. The bright and fiery flame, darting upward and piercing the heavens, represents the intellect. r. While a rainbow formed in the heavens above, and from its distil- ling dews, yet springing from the heat of the lava and the light of the flame below, and arching from side to side over the whole, would fitly represent the conscience. s. In the light of these relations, we come now to consider the facul- ties of the mind. Having completed our investigation and analysis of the central fire of the will, we now pass out, and take first the lava of the affections, lying around and adhering to the external surface of the volcanic mountain. Then shall we afterwards take up the heaven-piercing flame of the in- tellect ; and last of- all, the rainbow arch of the' conscience in the sky above it. * t. Now, by the deposit, the taking on and outgrowth of affections, the self or will becomes susceptible, capable of being acted upon from without, and capable of taking an interest in the things cognized by the THE AFFECTIONS. ' 111 intellect. The affections are both susceptible and emotive, passive and impulsive. They take in impressions, and send out activity. u. The self or will is no more a mere unsusceptible actor, but a sym- pathizer. It has become, by these outgrowths of affections, capable of pleasure and pain, of appreciating advantage and of deprecating dis- advantage. By the affections alone we are rendered impressible by objects without, and by our own mental movements within, and capable of either well-being or ill-being. v. They grow, for good or evil, upon the self or will, by its remaining a long time in one position. As habits of stooping make us crooked, as a pressure against the side of a tree or plant will make it bend and grow out on the opposite side, or as the sting of an insect or the gnaw- ing of a worm may make an apple or a tree take on a diseased growth, so evil or diseased affections may be produced on the self or will. w. These affections, outgrowths, or ingrowths, or excrescences on the self or will, and inhering in it, are indefinite in their number, yet strictly individual and sui generis in their characters, and utterly antag- onistic in their nature to each other, each having a craving peculiar to itself, and an aversion to that which would gratify any other. No one affection craves the object which is craved by another for its own sake, or for what it is in itself, though each may seem to impel to the gratification of another for the sake of an ultimate gratification to itself. x. We may feel covetousness or hate, ambition or benevolence ; yet neither of these can ever be gratified by that which is specifically calcu- lated to gratify another affection. Gain will not gratify revenge, nor will benevolence gratify ambition ; though we may gratify covetousness for the sake of ultimate revenge, and benevolence for the ends of am- bition. f y. William Tell chose to shoot, an arrow at the apple on the head of his child. He did not crave or desire that act, but he did desire the safety of himself and the well-being of his child, and chose that act as the best way, under the circumstances, to secure that end. z. Yet each affection ever preserves its own individuality and antag- onism to each and to all other affections. Nor must the action of the affections be confounded with the acts of the will, either in fact or in character. The affections act spontaneously and appetitively ; they have a craving for the objects adapted to their gratification, and an aversion for that which is not. They do not act deliberatively, and choosingly, and freely, but cravingly. They spring forth on coming in contact with their objects, and impel to their attainment, regardless of time, place, or consequences. Their action, therefore, is not a choice, but a desire ; it is not an executive decision, but a mere demand of ap- 112 AUTOLOGY. petite. They have no capabilities of different or opposite ends, and cannot choose. aa. They are all mono-active; they can act only in one direction, and in that they are involuntary and spontaneous. As air rushes to a vacuum, as water seeks its level, as all bodies tend to the centre' of gravitation, as appetite seeks its food, thirst its drink, and the lungs air, so the affec- tions move towards their appropriate objects without reason, and with- out choice between two objects. bb. They know no duality, no variety ; are each capable of deriving gratification from a certain object, and from no other. The capability of enjoying wealth could not be gratified by the capability of enjoying power, and cannot desire it, except for the sake of gaining wealth. The power of choosing is utterly inconceivable as belonging to an affection, and if conceivable, utterly useless to any affection. cc. The affections have as little capability of enjoying or choosing a thing to which they are not naturally inclined, or constitutionally adapt- ed, as a plant has of refusing to derive its nutriment from the earth, or air, and of maintaining its existence on animal food, or on vegetable diet, by mastication, deglutition, and digestion, as do men and animals. They have but a sole activity ; they may desire, crave, burn, enjoy, or suffer, but cannot choose. To crave an object is one thing, to choose it is another. dd. Nor have the affections in themselves, as capabilities or as acts, any character whatever as right or wrong. They may be beneficial or injurious, hateful or lovely, agreeable or disagreeable, but they have not in themselves the qualities of right and wrong, or praise worthiness and blameworthiness. ee. They may indeed become right or wrong, as they are cherished or subdued, adopted or discountenanced, approved or condemned, by the will under the law of the conscience. Their possessor may become guilty of their existence, and hurtfulness, and unlikeness to God, as he permits, indulges, or fails to subdue them. ff. They may become things chosen by their possessor, and thus add actual good to their own native goodness, or guilt to their offen- siveness and injuriousness, according to either their normal or perverted state; but in themselves they have no power of choice, and no moral character. They can only crave and feel aversion, and that involuntarily ; and on receiving the object craved, or on losing it, they feel pleasure or pain respectively ; and these are involuntary, and their only capabilities or functions. gg. Without these affections we should be incapable of any interest or activity,, with regard to external things or internal things. The intellect might perceive, but if that perception were all, if it were not THE AFFECTIONS. 113 thrown back upon a susceptible property within, no interest would be awakened, and no action would ensue. hh. The affections, then, are those properties of the mind by which it is rendered susceptible of impressions from without, and from the action of its own faculties within ; and they correspond and answer to all our relations to the world without and the world within us. it. The intellect grasps an object, and throws it back upon the affec- tions ; they crave and enjoy it, or loathe and reject it, and in either case do not choose, nor incur responsibility, but simply experience involuntary action, and in that state are the objects of choice or of refusal to the will. jj. And the will either chooses some one or more of them, and rejects others, or rejects them all, as we shall hereafter see. hh. Thus much we have spoken of the affections in general; we now come to a classifying and individualizing of them. We have given the generic and general term "affections" to the susceptible por- tion of man's nature. And by the term affections we mean not the state or states of the susceptibilities, but the susceptibilities themselves — the several capabilities of susceptibility. II. The states of the susceptibilities we indicate by the terms desire, emotion, craving, aversion, disgust, pleasure ; but we give the name of " affections " to the susceptibilities themselves, that is, to our capability of sensibility. mm. This term "affections," however, given to our sensitive nature, is not sufficiently definite to indicate all the phenomena of sensibility or susceptibility. So numerous and diversified are their manifestations, that we cease to regard them as an undivided whole, but as made up of distinct and separate affections, each capable of a different and pecu- liar affectionateness. nn. We come to know and discriminate these affections by first ob- serving their states. Instinct, emotion, desire, may be the state of every affection, and the thing thus desired is in each particular case so distinct, and of so fixed a character, that we are warranted in assigning to the affection itself, as a natural capability of the mind, a distinct- name, significant of its property as an original power or conformation of our susceptibilities ; as, for instance, the desire of knowledge, and power, gain, esteem, and others. oo. The desire for each of these is distinct from the others, and is the state of the affection, whose office it is by nature to desire such an object. The affections, therefore, are those distinct susceptibilities of our nature which are capable of instinct, emotion, desire, &c, for specific objects. pp. The affections, it must be observed, have their legitimate objects, and states, offices and qualities, and also illegitimate ones. They have a 15 ]14 AUTOLOGY. natural office, and may be perverted to an unnatural ope. The original and intended use of their action is good, and tends to happiness. The perverted action and state of the affections are evil, and tend to mis- chief. Either is right or wrong only when chosen by the will. qq. We now come to the classification of the affections, and shall adopt such a method as will be in accordance with natural distinctions, and serve the purposes of clearness and the conveniences of discus- sion. This classification should not be so minute as to embarrass, nOr so general as to be indefinite, but so made as to bring before the mind the whole population of the will's empire, over which it has authority, and each individual of which it chooses or refuses, as the case may be, in the exercise of its own liberty and authority. The following clas- sification may, for these purposes, be sufficiently convenient and accurate. CHAPTER IT. ELEMENTAL AFFECTIONS. SECT. I. MUTUAL RELATIONS OF THE ELEMENTAL AFFECTIONS. a. We are now to analyze the affections into their elements, orders, classes, and manifestations, that thereby we may the more clearly dis- criminate all their varieties from each other, and be better assured that we have obtained all their number. We have already seen that the af- fections are deposits, developments,' growths on the will, produced by the combined working and operation of the essential activity and the essential intelligence. 6. The affections are produced in a manner analogous to the produc- tion of the self and the will, except that they are formations from the side of the essential activity, rather than from the side of the essential intelligence, just as the intellect is a formation from the essential in- telligence rather than from the essential activity. In like manner, we shall see, at the last, that the affections and the intellect are combined to produce the conscience, which is the highest faculty of the mind, com- pleting the whole mental system. c. The affections have two divisions, viz. : 1. The Elemental Affections. 2. The Determinate Affections. The elemental affections we find to be six, each one of which is the basis of one of the six orders which constitute the second, or determinate division of affections. THE AFFECTIONS. 115 d. The Elemental Affections, as their name imports, are elements, and are designated according- to their subjective nature. They have no particular determination, but are general, relating to no definite or specific object ; while the Determinate Affections are these same ele- mental affections determined to a specific object, or class of objects, whose name they take. e. The elemental affections are all mutually interpenetrant and mutually blended, having but one being and one life, though they are distinguishable, and they each enter into all the determinations of the others. They are each distinct and individual, and each determines into a particular and distinct order of affections, yet each carries blended with it into its individual determination all the other elements, though subordinate to itself. f. The elemental affections are as follows : — 1. Desirefulness. 2. Trustfulness. These are original and primary elements ; they are two simple and irreducible forms of affections. g. By combining Desirefulness and Trustfulness, we have Hopeful- ness, which is the third elemental affection. h. And then, by combining again Desirefulness, Trustfulness, and Hopefulness, we have the fourth elemental affection; viz., Cheerfulness. i. Then, by combining again Desirefulness, Trustfulness, Hopefulness, and Cheerfulness, we have Aspiringness, which is the fifth elemental affection. j. And lastly, by combining Desirefulness, Trustfulness, Hopefulness, Cheerfulness, and Aspiringness, we have the last elemental affection ; viz., Eeverentialness. k. And this completes the whole of the elemental affections, six in number. Now, these' several elements are the basis, each in turn, of the six orders of the determinate affections, which constitute the second division of the affections. SECT. II. THE AFFECTIONS AS SELFIAL AND SELFISH. a. The affections have not only the two general divisions of elemen- tal and determinate, with the classes and manifestations under the latter, but they have also, each and all, two modes of development, or states of being; viz., the natural and the unnatural, the good and the evil, the normal and the abnormal, and in practical life the right and the wrong. b. To designate and distinguish these two forms of development, as well as to give them their true nature, we have coined a new term, whose convenience and appropriateness will, we think, justify the iuno- 116 AUTOLOGY. ration. We call the natural, good, normal, and practically right develop- in. -nt of the affections, the Selfial state; and the unnatural, the bad. the abnormal, and the practically wrong development of the affections we call the Selfish state. c. The Selfial state is that in which God made the heart at the first, and as such is good, and may by right action become practically virtuous. In this state, the affections will act according to their original laws and mutual restraints. The Selfish state is that in which the affections are either excessive or deficient, either above or below their natural state, in action or development, and are in action both vicious and the source of vice. ut they also spring from, and take into their nature, the social, the patriotic, and the philanthropic orders of affe'etions, and make joy, greatness, and beauty out of them all. In them the mind rises above itself, and looks down on its own faculties, and down on nature, ami spoils and toys with them, and makes beauty and ugliness, greatness and diminutive- ncss, joy and sorrow, gravity and ludicrousness, misery and merriment, out of them all. In this respect the sesthetical are the highest of all ections, and in their correspondent thoughts the highest of all human thoughts. il. Ami lastly, the Religious order rises out of every other order in the whole soul. Worship is the going up to God of the whole nature, in humble, penitent, grateful, and prayerful renunciation of self, and ac- knowledgment of God, and supplication of his grace and help. The devotional affections have therefore roots in all the other affections, and are an outgrowth and development of them. n. Let it be observed, still further, that the affections are here treated as capabilities, and not as states of the mind ; as faculties, rather than functions. The usual method is to treat the affections, or sensibilities, as one mass, and then to point out the different states, or degrees, or kinds of action into which this one mass is thrown. o. Such a method calls the first state emotions ; the second, affec- tions ; the third, desires ; having the whole mass of the affections act as a whole- each time. But towards one class of objects it will have emotions, towards others affections, and towards others desires; the only classification being in relation to the objects before the mind, and the degree of activity in the affections themselves. p. The classification of this work, however, divides the affections into THE AFFECTIONS. 135 orders, classes, and manifestations, as faculties or capabilities, each of which is capable of all the degrees of activity towards outward objects respectively, which are given in the classification alluded to in the pre- ceding paragraph. q. Any order or class of affections may feel emotion, affection, and desire towards its objects. It is not, therefore, sufficient to give only these states and degrees of activity, which the affections may all have, but the different capabilities of having and being thrown into these states, with regard to different classes of objects, must be given, in order to bring out the true nature and structure of the human heart. r. It must never be forgotten that the affections of the heart are a community of individuals, to be governed and disposed of; or at least of forces to be managed and controlled; and as such, their individuality must never be lost sight of. s. The orders and classes, with their manifestations, are intended to be a complete and exhaustive inventory of those forces of the heart, which we call the affections ; or, to change the figure, a full census of the inhabitants of the heart, who are to be legislated for by the intel- lect, judged by the conscience, and commanded by the will. t. As such, no true analysis of them can be made, nor any intelligible account given, without considering them as individual faculties, forces, or capabilities. To regard them as one undivided mass, and to distin- guish only certain states into which that mass may be thrown, is to take a view of them the most superficial in its kind, and totally inade- quate in its nature to the demands of the case. It would be just as defective and insufficient, as to treat the intellect as all one mass, one faculty, and then speak only of its different states of action according to the objects before it. u. This has, in fact, been tried and abandoned. Indeed, the whole mind has been so considered, and intellect, affections, will, and con- science all regarded as making one mass, and then treated as the whole mind in a state of will, a state of affection, a state of cognition, and a state of moralizing. This poor method has long since so far yielded to a better analysis as to give way to the great divisions, sensitivity and intellect ; and to the division of the intellect into sense, understanding, and reason, and sometimes a separating of the affections from the will, and finally of the conscience from the affections. v. But the affections are still, for the most part, treated as one mass, having different states or degrees of activity. A judicious division of the affections into different faculties, not states, different capabilities of action, not different degrees of activity, has long been the desideratum of mental science. The attempt to meet this want is here made, and until some better is supplied, the foregoing classification is given as a 136 AUTOLOGY. help to the better understanding of the nature and office of the affec- tions. 10. Moreover, let it be here observed, that no affection in its natural state can be said to bo either right or wrung, any more than any faculty of the intellect can be said to be right or wrong. The various faculties of the affections, like the faculties of the intellect, or the members of the body, have in themselves no moral . character, as faculties. It is only their action that is either right or wrong when that action is chosen by the will or rejected by it, and because so treated by the will. x. These affections may be diseased, vitiated, depraved, debauched, like a drunkard's stomach, and be sources of mischief, pain, and sorrow; but right and wrong arc predicable only of the acts of the will, as it chooses or refuses, indorses or repudiates, these affections. y. For this reason we have given a name to the healthy and natural state of the affections, and also to the unhealthy and depraved state of the affections, in order to avoid confusion, and to keep up a proper dis- crimination. The natural and healthy state of the affections is therefore called the selfial state, while the diseased and depraved state of the affections is called the selfish state. The term "selfial" means simply that the affections, so styled, belong to the self, not as either right or wrong, but as part of its nature, and nothing more. The term " selfish " means that the affections, so called, are depraved, vitiated, and injurious in their states. With these views, we now take up the first order of the affections, and give, in the first instance, a. schedule of its several subordinate classes, with their specific modes of manifestation. Fur man's responsibility for his state of heart, see Chapter V., Sect. 3. CHAPTER IV. THE ORDERS OF DETERMINATE AFFECTIONS. ORDER I. INDIVIDUAL AFFECTIONS. a. This, the first order of the determinate affections, is so named be- cause these affections refer more particularly to the self or individual. They do not, however, belong to the self, in any bad or hurtful sense of that term, but have a legitimate office in relation to it, which it is their nature to perform, and hence they are called individual, and in their nor- THE AFFECTIONS. 13t mal state are not selfish but selfial, having in them neither hurtfulness of tendency, nor moral character as right or wrong. b. They are of the nature of being itself, and are as right as the self itself is right. They belong to existence, and are of the nature and rights of existence, and in their proper exercise are the simple manifes- tations of being and of its rights. They comprise and enforce the duties which a 'man owes to himself, and in their legitimate exercise are com- mendable, and give worth, influence, and dignity. When perverted and abused they become monstrous and brutish, and incur guilt, con- demnation, and abhorrence. c. It must be borne in mind, in discussing the several orders, with their classes and manifestations, that they each comprise in themselves more or less of each of the six elements working in them in combination. This is the nature of the elemental affections, that they enter into all the determinate affections severally, and all join to form them in a greater or less degree. Hence each order of the determinate affections, with each of its classes and manifestations, is fully qualified for its office, and each elemental affection may work through it, and it has the advantage of partaking of them all. d. So also must it be borne in mind that each successive order after the first has in it a combination of all the preceding orders, so that the whole affectional force comes out in each order, class, and manifestation, in a modified form, while the distinguishableness and function of each is strictly maintained. e. This is a very great advantage in this method of classification. It gives to each particular affection the power of all, as in fact each act of any affection does imply the co-operation or antecedent action of some or of all the rest. No affection is thus supposed to do an act which implies or requires a power or disposition that it has not. f. The individual affections may do what requires not only desireful- ness, but trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and re- verentialness, for they have all these elements in combination in themselves. So may the social affections actually do that which is individual or patriotic. g. That which comes from any one element directly, and determines itself in a particular order, has still also in it all elements and all orders, alike those which have preceded it and those which follow it. Thus are all the orders and classes of the affections one, yet distinguishable and adapted to their respective functions. The affections all spring from one fountain, yet in that fountain are found all the ingredients that divide and develop into all their manifold classes and manifestations. h. Beginning with the first order, viz., the Individual Affections, we find them divided into four classes, to wit : — 18 138 AUTOLOGY. Individual Affections. Selfial State. Selfish State. Class First. Self-sustentative Affections. Self-sustentativeness. Self-greediness. . Class Second. Self-defensive Affections. Self-defensiveness. Aggressiveness, and Implacableness. Class Third. Self-acquisitive Affections. Self-acquisitiveness. Covetous'ness. Class Fourth. Self-Annunciative Affections. Self-annunciativeness. Obtrdsiveness. These sum up, Pure and Simple Selfiality. Those sum up, Gross Selfishness. ?'. We now take up the first class of Individual Affections and give its manifestations, viz. : — . Class First. Self-sustentative Affections. Selfial State. Self-sustentativeness. Selfish Slate. Self-greediness. Manifestations. 1, Vital Sensibility, 2. Animal -Hunger. 3. Animal Thirst. 4. Animal Industry. 5. Animal Foresight. 6. Animal Playfulness. Insensibility. Effeminacy, gormandism. Intemperance, excitableness, indolence. Anxiety, Negligence. Wantonness, Inertness. j. First among- Self-sustentative affections, whose office is to preserve life, are the animal affections above given. Vital sensibility, hunger and thirst, are especially the voice of animal nature calling for sustenta- tion and nutriment. In this way is life sustained, and this method of THE AFFECTIONS. 139 nature, though liable to abuse, is yet indispensable. Were the supply of food left to mere judgment, with no pain of appetite impelling thereto, health, and often life, would be sacrificed. k. The appetites, when in their natural state, are unsinful and harmless; but when perverted by over-indulgence, and made imperious by dissipa- tion, they become destructive of health, and morally wrong. The appetite for stimulants, whether strong drink or narcotics, spices or heated bever- ages, is artificial, induces disease, and shortens human life. There is no part of man's constitution that more needs the surveillance of the reason and the conscience than the appetites ; for on the right regulation of them depend in a large degree physical health, mental activity, and moral character ; and all these may be damaged if the appetites are uncon- trolled by the reason and the conscience. Man's physical system allies him to nature and the worm ; yet on its healthy condition and right government depend his highest social happiness and moral well- being. I. "A sound mind in a sound body" is man's best estate, and the former depends very largely on the latter. The evidence of vice and the effects of depravity manifest themselves in a diseased and decaying physical system. While, therefore, divine wisdom saw it not safe to intrust the preservation of life to reason and conscience, but placed it in the hands of an ever-active appetite, it has not left appetite without the control of reason and conscience. m. With grossness of appetite comes also grossness of feelings, sentiments, tastes and habits. The intellectual man sinks, and the social man becomes degraded, and the moral sense loses its quickness ; a conscious degradation destroys self-respect, and an increasing sen- suality overgrows the social affections, so that the man approximates to the beast, and his whole nature descends to a lower level. The aspirations of the free spirit and the appetites of the body stand at the opposite poles of our being, yet both unite in our one humanity. n. We now take up in order the several manifestations of the self- sustentative affections. First Manifestation — Vital Sensibility. Selfial State. Selfish State. Vital Sensibility. Insensibility. Effeminacy. a. This is the fia-st and simplest manifestation of the Individual affec- tions. It is in its normal state the natural consciousness of life, as opposed to inanimate nature, to insensibility, and inaction. It is that UO AUTOLOGY. . quick susceptibility and excitableness to any impression from without which awake action and interest within. It is the sensibility to pleasure or pain which invites things preservative, and wards off things pernicious, giving pleasure in what is healthful, nutritive, and useful, and pain in that which is injurious and unhealthful. b. In this state it is right, natural, and good, and is called simply selfial. In its diseased state it becomes excessive, irritable, splenetic, and vicious, leading to debility of body and mind. The body becomes feeble, the appetite clamorous, the mind weak and whimsical, and the whole man demented, effeminate, imbecile, and impotent. Second Manifestation — Animal Hunger. Selfial State. Selfish State. Animal Hunger. Gokmandism. a. Here the Individual affections have their deep tap-root low down in the bottom of the mind not only, but in the natural appetites of the body. The instinct of self-preservation and the craving for nutriment lie at the lowest spring and centre of life, and are therefore fitly the first in that first class of individual affections which we call self-susten- tativ'c. We call it animal hunger, as it is the natural appetite for the sustenance which supports life. It is as natural and healthful as life itself. It is, like breathing or the beating of the heart, an original and essential movement of nature, and part of being itself. b. In its natural state it is not only innoxious, but right, just as being itself is right. In its diseased or vitiated state it becomes hurtful and wrong ; from self-sustentation it becomes mere self-greediness, and is selfish and devouring, and ultimately self-consuming. In its diseased state it is known as gormandism and gluttony, and becomes a vice and a destroyer. While in its natural and healthy state this affection is selfial and self-preservative, in its diseased state it is selfish and self- destructive ; in the former case it is good, in the latter it is an injury ; the one is right, and the other wrong. Third Manifestation — Animal Thirst. Selfial State. Selfish State. Animal Thirst. Intemperance. Animal Thirst is of precisely the same nature with animal hunger, and in its healthy and in its diseased states has the same characteristics. In its healthy state it is essential to sustaining life, and is natural and THE AFFECTIONS. 141 right ; in its diseased state it is the vice of intemperance, and is de- structive and ruinous. Fourth Manifestation — Animal Industry. Selfial State. . Selfish Stale. Animal Industry. Excitability, Indolence. a. This stands opposed, to a diseased activity, and to indolence. In- dustriousness is, no doubt, largely a bodily gift, and dependent upon temperament ; even mental activity must depend largely on physical construction and combinations. A sluggish brain is caused by sluggish blood and a slow temperament. A body ever so muscular, and a brain ever so large, with a slow temperament, will not accomplish as much as an industrious and active temperament will, with a small brain and a feeble body. 6. This industriousness of body and of mind lies at the basis of all thrift, comfort, competence, cleanliness, enterprise, enjoyment, and well- being. It is almost a moral virtue ; surely it is useful and prudent,' and at least, purely selfial ; while a diseased activity is an injury, and indo- lence is a vice. Indolence is the parent of slovenliness, delinquency, and debasement, and is one of the lowest and most brute-like forms of selfishness. Fifth Manifestation — Animal Foresight. Selfial State. Selfish State. Animal Foresight. Anxiety, Negligence. a. Animal Foresight is a sort of compound of industry and sensibility, and leads to a useful employment of the natural industriousness. It looks to self-preservation, to provision ; in the bee and in the ant it pro- vides for winter, and is only a modification of the original instinct of self-preservation. b. Foresight is natural and healthful ; its absence is a defect ; its excess is a disease ; the one producing negligence, and the other hurtful anxiety ; and while foresight is almost a virtue, over-anxiety and negli- gence, on the contrary, become positive vices. Foresight is selfial prudence, while negligence and over-solicitude are only forms of selfish- ness, which is sin. Sixth Manifestation — Animal Playfulness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Animal Playfulness. Wantonness, Inertness. U2 AUTOLOGY. a. This disposition of the mind belongs to the first stages of animal life, and rejoices in muscular activity, as well as in mental sportiveneaa In the first case it shows itself in sports of swiftness and strength, and in the second in riddles, problems, repartee, and wit. b. The office of this affection is education and recreation. The young animal, whether brute or human, exercises its limbs in sport, and gains strength and power ; and so the young intellect develops itself by its own playfulness, and acquires both knowledge and power. This prop- erty, we shall soon see, like the desire of excellence, lies at the bottom of the sesthetical affections, into which they flow, and in which they be- come the basis of ideal forms and perfections. This playfulness stands opposed to wantonness and inertness of body or of mind. It is nature's resource against exhaustion and stagnation, and its provision for growth and recuperation. . c. Thus we have passed through the lowest forms of the individual affections; they provide for self-sustentation. We have named, in their order, their different modes of manifestation, and see thai in their selfial state they are only the different modes of a natural and justifiable self- sustentation, while iu their debased and abused state they are a more vice of self-greediness. In their natural and healthy state they belong to the first springs and elements of life ; in their diseased state they are a fountain of death. We now proceed to the second class of individual affections. ORDER I. INDIVIDUAL AFFECTIONS. Class Second. Self-defensive Affections. Selfial Slate. Selfish State. Self-defence. Aggressiveness, Implacableness. a. The office of this class of affections is sufficiently indicated by the title. Self-preservation and self-defence become identical in those in- stances where something threatens with damage or death. Self-preserva- tion may be sought, as in the preceding class of affections, by purely peaceful methods, such as the obtaining of food, air, water, shelter, which is a mere observing of the laws of living and health ; and if, under such circumstances, " self-preserVation is the first law of nature," much more is it the case when we are attacked in person, property, and reputation ; for these call for defence, and not simply sustentation. b. The self-defensive affections comprise all those properties which are authoritative, persistent, prudential, bold, combative, and energetic, and are employed in all the forms and methods of security and defence. THE AFFECTIONS. 143 They guard the self as distinguished from any other individual, and maintain personal rights ; resist invasion, oppression, extortion, and hostile attacks of every kind. In them are comprised also all the per- versions of this property of the mind by which these affections cease to be selfial, and become selfish, injurious, and destructive. c. They have the following Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish State. 1. Physical Sensibility. Moebid Physical Sensibility, arising from palpitation of the Heart, or from* a Diseased Nervous System, or from Vi- cious Habits. 2. Apprehensiveness, Cautiousness, Reticence, Fear, Secretiveness, Alarm. Timidity. Artifice, Deceitfulness. Pusillanimity, Cowardice. Dread, Terror, Panic Resentfulness, Rising up against Wrong, Repelling Injury, Resisting Evil, Anger, Wrath. Revengefulness. Maliciousness, Malignity, Envy. Detraction, Hate, Madness. 4. Courageousness, Overcoming Difficulties, Self-defence, Braving Danger, Exterminating Vice, Unconquerableness. Contentiousness. Censoriousness, Unmercifulness. Want of Natural Affection. Destructiveness. Murderousness. These sum up a right and justifiable Self-defence. These sum up Implacableness, Cruelty, and Murder. First Manifestation — Physical Sensibility. a. The quick sensibility to bodily pain, when any violent contact occurs, is one of the first provisions for self-preservation. We instinc- tively shrink from violence to our bodies, and especially from anything that threatens any of their more sensitive or vital organs. A lively sen- sibility makes us close the eye, or avert the body suddenly, when we apprehend a blow; and this action is indeliberate and instantaneous. The movement is called instinctive ; and though in practical life our 144 AUTOLOGY. physical sensibilities may be the first to manifest it, still it is equally common to all the affections and emotions ; anger, resentment, love, joy, moral approbation or abhorrence may each act instinctively, as well as after deliberation. Bodily sensibility, however, stands at the farthest outpost of the man, and gives the first instinctive movement for self- preservation ; and this sensibility in any organ of the body is the call of nature for her safety, and the first warning note of coming retribution. Seljial State. Selfish State. Physical Sensibility. Morbid Physical Sensibility, arising from palpitation of the Heart, or from a Diseased Nervous System, or from Vi- cious Habits. b. This sensitiveness, that informs us of danger, is altogether similar to that power of instinct by which the young of animals select their food, birds take to the air, and fowls to the water. It is akin to that quickness of apprehension by which human beings interpret the feelings, intentions, and character of one another, on observing the expression of the countenance, the air, bearing, gait, tones of the voice, and mode of expression, and detect at once hypocrisy or malevolence, or seize upon true simplicity and love. It is the same in kind with the sagacity of the dog, which catches at once the spirit as well as the person of his master, and learns his wishes. c. A quickness of sensibility in all the affections characterizes women, and enables them to form instinctive judgments with regard to character and affairs, often more rapid and more correct than can be formed by the greatest intellect deriving its judgments from deep principles and long experience. Instinctive action is involuntary, and arises from the effect of the appearances around us upon our sensibilities, without waiting for the slower movements of our intellect to define and judge of them. As with a mirror we could more suddenly and accurately give to a friend his features and his face than we could draw them with a pencil and pre- sent them to him, so the sensibilities of some persons will more rapidly and accurately give the characters of others, and the bearing of certain courses of action, than could their deliberate judgment. On the same principle is bodily sensibility a more prompt and sure safeguard than could reason and experience be. d. This sensibility may sometimes be diseased, and unduly sensitive. It maybe preternatural, and in such cases mislead us, as in case of heart- disease, or of a shattered nervous system ; but its intended use, in its normal and healthy state, is for self-preservation, of which it is the first THE AFFECTIONS. 145 ,and most reliable safeguard. It belongs to nature, and, like all of na- ture, is in the sight of God " very good." Second Manifestation — Apprehensiveness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Apprehensiveness. Timidity. Cautiousness, Reticence. Artifice, Deceitfulness. Fear, Secretiveness. Pusillanimity, Cowardice. Alarm. Dread, Terror, Panic. a. The office of this affection is to ward off danger by anticipating it. While courage overcomes danger by confronting it, apprehensive- ness by foreseeing avoids it. The affection of apprehensiveness has several modifications, differing only in degree, such as cautiousness, reticence, secretiveness, fear, alarm, dread, terror. This affection has thus its uses and its abuses. Cautiousness becomes timidity and cow- ardice ; reticence may become duplicity ; secretiveness may become artifice ; alarm may become panic ; and a wholesome dread may become the constant foreboding of evil. Cautiousness is a prudent foresight for the attainment of good and the avoidance of evil. It looks about the present for snares and surprises, and forward to the future for results and consequences. It leads to watchfulness and circumspection, and is one of the greatest of personal safeguards. b. Reticence is retaining and withholding that which it might be inju- rious to communicate, and which we are not bound to tell. Secretive- ness is concealing and hiding that which would otherwise be known. It is cautiousness and reticence intensified. This form of apprehensive- ness appears when dangers threaten us and thicken around us in spite of our cautiousness, and our reticence, and all our efforts to avoid them ; and it leads to concealment of the thoughts, intentions, motives, and the person itself. While cautiousness leads to watchfulness or flight, secretiveness leads to concealment ; and while a perverted cautiousness is cowardice, a perverted secretiveness is intrigue ; and thus they may be made the instruments of mischief and calamity, though intended for defence against danger. c. A more vivid apprehension of danger than that thus described is alarm. It startles our security, and leads to open exertion and fear. Fear is a settled anticipation of evil, and when roused by some sudden alarm, becomes a most powerful stimulant to action. It gives a preter- natural strength and activity, and under its influence the most extraor- dinary feats have been performed. It braves every danger, and over- comes every obstacle ; yet it is not courage, but a sort of madness. Another stage of apprehension brings us to consternation, dread, terror. 19 146 AUTOLOGY. At this point fear ceases to be a stimulant, and utterly overcomes its victim ; he becomes powerless and helpless. Like one benumbed by cold, when on each nerve " The deadly winter seizes, shuts up sense," or when under " some appalling shock of fate," he finds "Each nerve at once unstrung, Chill fear has fettered fast his feet, And chained his speechless tongue." d. Thus the affection of apprehensiveness has its office, and fear its uses. "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom ; " and " the prudent man foreseeth the evil and hideth himself." And thus is it a source of correction and of defence ; while it may be perverted into cowardice and deceitfulness, or into terror and dread. Third Manifestation — Resentfulness. Selfial Slate. Selfish State. Resentfulness. Revengefulness. Rising up against Wrong. Maliciousness, Malignity. Repelling Injury. Detraction, Hate. Resisting Evil, Anger, Wrath. Madness. a. It appears in resentment, indignation, anger, wrath. Their legiti- mate office is self-defence, and opposition to evil only. It is more in- tense in its nature that any form of apprehensiveness. It, as well as apprehensiveness, is a stimulant to courage. The true character of this affection may be learned from the exhortatiou, " Be ye angry, and sin not ; let not the sun go down upon yo ur wrath ; " showing that there may be a just feeling of resentment and indignation against wrong and base- ness, which is neither passion nor revenge. When an intended indig- nity is offered us, when the helpless are wronged, when worth is dis- honored, when virtue is violated, then resentment is a rising up of the soul against injury and wrong, just as courage is a rising up against danger. God is said to be " angry with the wicked everyday," by which is meant, his holy abhorrence of sin ; and precisely so, a just man, a holy soul, may feel a righteous indignation at sin. b. But though this affection is originally right, and may be exercised in righteousness, yet no other disposition of the mind is so often or so fatally perverted. While in its legitimate condition it is only resent- ment against injury, and rising up against wrong, in its perverted state it passes from anger and wrath to malice, vindictiveness, revenge, and murder. The general action of this affection is to give intenseness, THE AFFECTIONS. 147 energy, determination, and force of character ; but perverted, it becomes inveterate and destructive. While courage seeks only to overcome, revenge seeks to destroy ; while the former seeks only conquest, the lat- ter seeks extermination. Thus it gives vindictiveness to the temper, the sting to sarcasm, the burning to wit. It delights in giving pain, and is severe in everything ; its mirth is cruel, its sport is destruction. Anger when intense becomes wrath, and wrath may become malice. While wrath is open and offensive, malice is more calm and secret, and is nursed into enmity and hatred. Hatred is a more settled form of malevolent feeling, and becomes a fixed and inveterate hostility. c. At bottom, however, hatred in its legitimate form, is only a strong aversion to that which is injurious and wrong. God is said to " love righteousness and hate iniquity ; " and the Psalmist, approving himself before God, says, " Do I not hate them that hate thee ? I hate them with a perfect hatred; I count them my enemies." So far, then, as hate is only this, it is justifiable in man. God and good men have a love of benevolence for sinners, while they abhor their sins. But hatred in men is often transferred from the wrong to the wrong-doer, and thus becomes malignant and hateful in itself. It is, then, the absence of all kindness, sympathy, and all love of the right, and all regard for mercy, and turns into enmity, and cruelty, and revenge. d. Revenge is a feeling of unmixed malevolence not only, but of de- termined hostility. Wounded feeling rises in intenseness from resentment, indignation, anger, wrath, to malice, hate, revenge. It watches that it may catch its victim, digs pits, sets snares, and bides its time until it can wound in the tenderest point, and that most fatally and immedicably, and then strikes ; strikes sometimes secretly, sometimes openly, as may best suit its purpose ; and it seldom fails of its victim ; for who can always elude, or be so watchful and so fortunate as to escape forever '> The patient search and vigil long Of him who treasures up a wrong"? 'Thus resentment becomes perverted until it fulfils its part of all that dark picture drawn by the apostle, in so many places, where he speaks of men as depraved with "anger, wrath, malice, hatred, variance, emu- lations, strife, envyings, murder, and such like," and sets these passions in contrast with the fruits of the Spirit, "love, joy, peace, long-suffer- ing, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance," — and enjoins "forbearing one another and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any ; even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye : and above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfect- ness," — all this characterizes the heart when restored, in some good degree, to its selfial and pure condition. 148 AUTOLOGY. Fourth Manifestation — Courageousness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Courageousness. Contentiousness. Overcoming Difficulties. Censoriousness, Unmercifulness. Self-defence, Braving Danger. ,Want of Natural Affection. Exterminating Vice. Destructiveness. Unconquerableness. Murderousness. a. The office of this affection is to face danger, to resist power, to overthrow evil, to stand up against wrong-. No disposition of the mind is better known than this. No two characters differ more than the man of courage and the man who is without it. Of this Luther and Melanchthon are illustrations. b. The possession of courage is not always a virtue, nor the want of it always a crime. There is a great constitutional difference in men. Some are naturally heroic, and some are naturally submissive ; some are naturally cool, and some sensitive ; and the feeble in body may some- times be brave in spirit. Mothers, sisters,^ and wives often show as much courage as do fathers, husbands, and brothers, though in a differ- ent form. c. There is a moral courage that faces public opinion, and a bravery that meets personal danger. Luther had both. He not only confronted a false public opinion, but encountered personal and physical danger. Courage implies a combat with opposing forces. It is a disposition to combat and overcome. It is sustained, of course, by a consciousness of strength, by the desire of self-preservation, and a sense of right, and it is weakened by a conviction that we are in the wrong. But when life and liberty, when kindred and country, when truth and righteousness, are assailed, then has courage its strongest supports in the good causes for which it contends. And hence how true that " Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted." d. Yet while it is true that men may be made bold by the right, and fearful by the wrong, still there is an original difference in the constitu- tions of men. There is an original element of character which may be denominated courage, apart from all and any surroundings. Some men, with no more physical or mental force than others, have yet courage to meet opposition and danger, which others have not. Some are born cowards ; their hearts faint, their strength fails, before danger. Want of muscle or of nerve, or a diseased state of the vital organs, may occa- THE AFFECTIONS. U9 sion fear. The disposition of the soldier to combat disposes him to go to the field of battle, and oppose force with force ; while the martyr, with equal courage, opposes only his faith to the violence that assails him, and contends for the truth only with the weapons of truth, and goes to prison and to death with a spng of triumph. e. The missionary who carries the gospel amongst a band of savages contends against the forces of sin, though with the weapons of love. The wife who follows her husband to the scaffold opposes force with force, though it be not with sword or spear. She wields a moral force mightier than all missiles of death. The man who dares avow his opposition to a tyrannous public opinion, and the soldier who waits till his time to march into the line of battle comes, each shows as much courage, though of a different kind, as does the soldier who rushes at once into the cannon's mouth, and dies in the midst of battle. When Tell dared to shoot at the apple on the head of his own child, when he told the tyrant that the concealed arrow was for him, in case the child had been killed, he contended with opposing forces, and exhibited as much bravery as did Bonaparte when he led his forces across the bridge at Lodi, or when fighting the battle of Waterloo. f. And thus, though courage does not always employ physical weapons, yet it is the combating of force of some kind, whether physical, or mental, or moral, with some opposing force, and the en- countering of danger of some kind, that constitutes courage. Courage is facing danger and contending against it ; this is its essential element. The man who plunges into an angry flood to save a fellow-being, the fireman who rushes through flames to save a child, he " Who dares to own an injured cause Though fools deride its sacred laws," he who will own a brother in disgrace, has courage, and opposes force with force in the face of danger ; and this rising up against danger is courage. g. It is an original affection of the mind, and not the result of the combination of any other properties, for all the occasions to courage are sometimes known to be present to some persons, and yet they are cow- ards ; indeed, it is of the essence of courage to face danger in the absence of favoring circumstances and helps. h. Fortitude is a form of courage, but it is that form of courage which endures reverses, and waits for the fit time. It partakes more of patience and unconquerableness ; a spirit that will not be disheartened, and that masters itself and stands firm. If courage is the power to strike against danger, fortitude is the power to forbear to strike until the fit time ; it is, therefore, of the essence of courage, for it is courageous at 150 AUTOLOGY.' times to dare to be called a coward. It is courage to bear up under disaster, and to renew the fight after a long series of defeats ; in this courage there is fortitude mingled with an active opposition to danger. *. The office of courage, as an original element of our nature, is self- defence, and the overcoming of any evil or obstacle in the way of our development or duty. It does not seek the destruction of what it op- poses, but simply the mastery, for the purpose of self-defence and prog- ress in self-development. j. This affection, however, like all others in the human heart, has its perversions. From a mere disposition to confront danger for the sake of self-preservation or the defence of the right, and to overcome obsta- cles to progress, it may become contentiousness, hostility, and a spirit of strife and violence. In its legitimate condition, it is courage and for- titude, and leads to noble daring, to enterprise and worthy achieve- ment, to the defence of the right, and the overcoming of evil : but in its perverted state it leads to "debate, cruelty, destructiveness, envy, malignity, covenant-breaking, is without natural affection, implacable, unmerciful," and is the champion of ambition, of covetousness, of pride, of enmity, of hatred, of all unrighteousness, and all oppression, and of all sin. Now, these various manifestations of the Defensive affections in their normal and selfial state, all sum up a justifiable self-defence ; and in their diseased, abnormal and selfish state, they become purely & malig- nant depravity, a selfishness in its most selfish form. ORDER I. — INDIVIDUAL AFFECTIONS. Class Third. — Self-acquisitive Affections. Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish State. 1. Inquiringness, " Curiosity, A Propensity to know. Itch for Novelty. 2. Gainfulness, Desire of Avariciousness, Property, Prudence. Miserliness, Meanness. 3. Potentialness, Despoticalness. Desire of Power. 4. Approbativeness, Vain-gloriousness, Love of Esteem, Honor, Obsequiousness, Distinction, Fame. Hypocrisy. THE AFFECTIONS. 151 5. Praiseworthiness, Emulation, Ambitition, Rivalry, Superiority, Meritoriousness, Envy, Jealousy. Aspiration. These sum up These sum up Self-acquisition. Covetousness. a. This class of affections is distinguished from the self-sustentative, which look only to maintenance, and from the defensive, which over- come obstacles and danger, in that it seeks practical acquisitions. They are the possessory affections, and are usually called desires, while other affections are called emotions. b. The acquisitive affections desire objects not so much for the pur- pose of gratifying an appetite, as for the sake of gain or advantage in other respects. They are made up of the desire of knowledge, or in- quiringness ; the desire of property, or gainfnlness ; the desire of power, or potentialness ; the desire of esteem, or approbativeness ; the desire of mastery and superiority, or praiseworthiness. First Manifestation — Inquiringness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Inquiringness, Curiosity, A Propensity to know. Itch for Novelty. a. This affection is commonly known as the desire of knowledge, or curiosity. It is very marked in its characteristics, and peculiar in its tendencies. It is observed in early childhood, and continues often until old ago. It lies at the foundation of all our investigations and pursuits in quest of knowledge. It impels childhood to activity and observa- tion, and to raise its " curious questions put In much simplicity, but ill to solve ; " and it stimulates manhood to the deepest studies of nature and of science. b. To this disposition of the mind the news reporter addresses his items of intelligence, and the idler his gossip. The historian present's it with the remote facts of time, and the traveller with the strange sights and wild adventures of a foreign land. For this the drama- tist complicates his plot of a mimic life, and the novelist weaves the web of his fictitious story. c. But for this desire to know, we should have no science, no history, no literature, no art. Whether as a love of knowledge, a desire of novelty, an insatiableness for amusement, or a susceptibility to the 152 AUTOLOGY. marvellous, it is the constant impulse to the attainment of all human intelligence. The kind of knowledge thus obtained will of course de- pend on the concurrence of other causes, and the mingling of other affections. d. No other affection needs more than does this the governing of the will, and the direction of the reason and the conscience. It may lead to the highest attainments in mental and moral culture, and to the no- blest acquisitions in science ; or, if abandoned to low caprice, or the misdirection of passion, it leads to mere novelty, amusement, frivolity, and dissipation. " All the Athenians and strangers which were there spent their time in nothing else but either to tell or to hear some new thing;" and the first temptation of the devil was addressed to the inquiringness, curiosity, and marvellousness of the deceived neophyte of Eden. An idle curiosity is the most prolific source of mischief and vice. Yet the original affection of inquiringness has in it not only no evil, but was planted for good, and is capable of good, and indispen- sable to good. e. It has in itself no moral character, but when employed in the attainment of useful knowledge, is one of the chief sources of well-being. It becomes vicious only when perverted to an idle inquisi- tiveness and a prurient curiosity. Everything is a legitimate subject of inquiry for right purposes; but men " vainly puffed up by their fleshly mind " may inquire after that which neither God nor nature ever de- signed them to know, or may seek knowledge of vice for the gratifica- tion of depraved appetites and low desires. All such knowledge the apostle calls "vain babblings," "and oppositions of science falsely so called," and "the knowledge that puffeth up." f. " The knowledge of good and evil " is a perilous acquisition ; yet to know the truth, only maketh wise. The legitimate office of this affec- tion is a knowledge of the truth, of all truth, and of the right. When it is perverted it becomes a corrupt desire to know sin. And while in its selfial state it is a pure desire to know, in its selfish state it is an idle or eager curiosity, a restlessness for change, and an itch for novelty. Second Manifestation — Gainfulness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Gainfulness, Avariciousness, Desire of Property, Prudence. Miserliness, Meanness. a. This affection is known as a desire of property. It is thus the parent of industry, economy, frugality, prudence, perseverance, and practical skill. All these moralities are called into requisition by the legitimate action of this disposition ; and by so doing, it promotes order THE AFFECTIONS. 153 and sobriety in the present, and provides a competence against the wants and contingencies of the future. This disposition of the mind is manifested in certain animals, as the bee and the squirrel, and is nature's provision against hunger and cold. b. The idea and the right of property arise primarily from the con- sciousness of a self. The feeling of ownership comes, however, from the fact of self-acquisition, and that, whether we have come into the possession of property by our own invention, or toil of body or mind, or by priority of possession, or inheritance from ancestors. In any case, the right of ownership is founded on an acquisition which is really or construc- tively our own. c. It is not, however, a right, but an affection, a capability of taking an interest in a right, and a disposition to exercise a right, of which we are now speaking ; and this disposition is manifested in all, from child- hood to old age. The right and possession of property constitute one of the leading objects of all human legislation and government. Next to the rights of person are those of property ; it is, therefore, an original and distinct susceptibility of our nature, having a pecuKar and exclusive function of its own. d. That this desire is legitimate is manifest from its having for its object the provision for the wants of ourselves and our dependants, and also from the declaration of Holy Writ, that " if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." And the injunction, " not slothful in business, fervent in spirit," proves that the acquisition of property is not incompatible with the most earnest piety. The common judgment of mankind has in all time decided that honest success in acquiring property denotes skill, talent, and trustworthiness ; and the fact that so few comparatively gain wealth is evidence that the judgment of the world, that assigns to them so high a position, is, perhaps, not so erro- neous as is sometimes supposed. It is true that " the love of money is the root of all evil," but it is so only when that love is debased into avarice. It is true that it may lead to sordidness, oppression, and brutality ; but it is also true that under the guidance of reason and conscience it is the parent of many virtues, and the source of many comforts. The natural desire of property is neither virtuous nor vicious, when controlled by the rule of right. When not thus governed it is sinful. e. This desire in our mental economy is as proper and as necessary as is the desire of food ; for if the provision for our wants was left entirely to a sense of prudence or duty, life might easily become extinct through imprudence ; but nature has guarded this point by providing man both with an appetite for food, and an instinctive desire for property, sub- 20 154 AUTOLOGY. jecting these again to the control of reason and conscience. The selfish and diseased state of the affection of gainfulness is obvious. It becomes avariciousness, miserliness, meanness, oppression, extortion, and overreaching, in forms and degrees more or less inhuman and malignant. Gainfulness in its right state is only selfial. Avarice is selfish. Third Manifestation — Potentialness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Potentialness. Despoticalness. a. The desire of power, like all the other acquisitive affections, springs up in the soul from. the consciousness of its wants. It is the desire of the ability to gratify our other affections, to supply our wants, and to achieve our purposes. Power may consist in money, knowl- edge, office, social position, titles, talents, personal influence, political supremacy, or physical force, but in all it is the same. b. The desire 'of power is distinct from the objects for which it is desired. It may be and is sought for its own sake, and for the gratifi- cation which its mere possession and exercise afford. Indeed, the consciousness of power is at once the distinctest and the sublimest sentiment of the human mind. It is the hero in his highest estate of triumph ; the orator or inventor, the statesman, the poet, or the artist, in the hour of his proudest achievement. So also do we find it manifesting itself in childhood and in youth. It is in all the consciousness of efficiency, of capableness, and of manhood. c. The design of this affection seems to be the securing of the ability for self-sustenance and for self-defence ; and the power which this affec- tion gives is the basis of liberty and the security for all our rights. Eights without power are worth but little, as desires without the power of a right gratification are a torment. Power is also the ability " to do good and to communicate," which the apostle enjoins us to "forget not," as well as the ability to oppress and tyrannize. d. The desire of it for benevolent, useful, and moral ends is legiti- mate. To seek it for ambition, and for dominion, and despotism, is sin. Power, benevolently and usefully employed, ever commands respect ; but wielded for aggrandizement, tyranny, cruelty, and revenge, 'it inspires hatred, and becomes iniquitous and devilish. Potentialness is selfial. Despoticalness is selfish. " O, it is excellent to have a giant's strength; But it is tyrannous to use it like a giant." Power, justice, generosity, and love, all joining hands in holy alliance, are the divinest symbols of authority in heaven or earth. THE AFFECTIONS. 155 Foueth Manifestation — Appbobativeness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Approbativeness, Vain-gloeiousness, Love of Esteem, Obsequiousness, Love of Honob, Hypoceisy. Love of Distinction, Love of Fame. a. This affection is the basis of much that is excellent, elegant, polite, and refined in human life. It is one of the most powerful stimulants to ambition and to enterprise. The office of this affection among men seems to be the production of kindly intercourse, and of proper deport- ment, as well as restraint from wrong, and impulse to the right, by a regard for the opinions of each other. We here see the basis of the power of personal influences and of public opinion. This affection pro- duces a regard different from conscientiousness, benevolence, love, or fear. It gives a sensitiveness to the approbation or disapprobation of others. b. The necessity and the design of this affection is, that men may be reached without force or violence, in regard to some things in which they cannot be touched by conscience, kindness, love, or money. It is a kind extension of the field of suasive influences, and an adding to their power of another force, when their legitimate or higher motives are exhausted. Providence seems to have labored to provide every possible governing principle short of brute force ; and hence when the simple elements of justice, mercy, love, and conscience no longer sway men, public opinion sometimes will, and then force need not be applied. This affection is the basis of the power of public opinion, for it renders men susceptible to the stimulants of praise, and the shafts of ridicule, con- tempt, and scorn. Men may often thus be drawn into measures for the public good, who could not be moved thereto by any higher motive; and men are prevented from violence and crime by the shame of a public trial and an ignominious penalty, when neither the force of conscience nor the pain of punishment could do it. c. It is also a very humanizing affection ; for through it, good example, pure tastes, and refining influences may be brought to bear on the community. Indeed, all virtues, and all proprieties, and all rules of action, may, through the medium of this affection, be made to have a controlling power, when these same virtues and proprieties, for what they are in themselves, would have no influence, or be rejected alto- gether. It is this susceptibility that secures an exterior respect for 156 AUTOLOGY. religion and morality, and protects the really religious from disturbance, and the moral and orderly from obstrusive improprieties. By this the violent may be kept in awe, and the vicious within the bounds of public decency. d. This affection makes its appearance at a very early date, and con- tinues until the close of life: childhood, youth' manhood, and age respond to it ; and the lower animals, as the horse, the elephant, and especially the dog, are alive and sensitive to it. It is perpetually appealed to by parents, teachers, rulers, and commanders, for the purpose of encour- aging, governing, rebuking, and correcting those under their charge. e. The sting of shame is the sharpest pang of which the heart is susceptible. Over some it is a rod of terror ; and to be without it is to be destitute of the most important element of good character. Public approbation is the life, and public disapprobation is the death, of the actor, singer, poet, artist, and orator. The fear of being dishonored is that which appeals most powerfully to the military chieftain, while the least breath of popular disfavor annihilates the man of fashionable honor. The soldier will die before he will be dishonored, while the mere pre- tender so much regards it that he will fight a duel for fear of being called a coward. Bonaparte, when a youth, being cashiered and con- fined for some small delinquency, pined and grieved so intensely that an officer interposed, and released him, to save him from worse conse- quences. That sense of honor which "feels a stain as a wound," and impels to deeds of bravery, has ordinarily its seat in this affection, though it may have higher elements in it ; but all inordinate ambition springs from nothing higher than this source. /. True honor is a love of the right ; this honor is a love of approba- tion. The desire of fame is ennobling, when it impels to the attain- ment of noble and virtuous ends ; but it is debasing when it leads to mere distinction in worthless pursuits. The buffoon, the mountebank, the wag, seek only a low notoriety, and will be profane or vile for the sake of attaining this end. This affection is also the seat of vanity and vain displajr, and is the very throne of fashion. From a regard for what others will say, from a fear of appearing singular, uncourtly, or as not belonging to good society, the devotee of fashion submits to all her caprices, and yields to all her exactions. g. The tyranny of fashion is complete, and its sole power lies in its appeal to this susceptibilit}' to approbation. It may exact any sum, require any observance, and impose any monstrosity, no matter how great, how absurd, or how erroneous. Neither expense, health, morals, nor religion, is any barrier to its encroachments ; and when fashion commands a wicked and hurtful observance or mode, it has untold power for evil. A corrupt public opinion is the most dreadful and ma- THE AFFECTIONS. 157 lignant engine of mischief in the universe. It is Satan's mightiest power. h. Approbativeness is in itself one of the noblest desires, yet in its simple and normal state it has no moral character, — it is purely selfial. But while the desire of esteem and of approbation is in itself not wrong, nor evil, yet in its perverted state it is selfish, and only selfish, and that continually. In this form it becomes vanity, vain-gloriousness, ob- sequiousness, sycophancy, hypocrisy, and baseness. These are the lowest forms in which the love of approbation shows itself, and at this stage it holds humanity in the most degrading servitude. From all these manifestations it clearly appears that approbativeness, or the love of esteem and of approbation, is a distinct and original susceptibility of the mind ; selfial or selfish, virtuous or vicious, according to its exer- cise ; otherwise of no moral character. Fifth Manifestation — Praiseworthiness. Selfial State. Selfish Stale. Praiseworthiness, Individual Ambition, Desire of true Greatness, Magisterialness. Meritoriousness, Pride, Rivalry, Emulation, Envy, Jealousy, Aspiringness. Presumption. a. The office of this affection is to secure development and perfect- ness of body and of mind, in all branches of liberal art and culture. It is manifestly the source* of that restlessness and dissatisfaction which ever impel man to progress, and are planted by the Creator to secure advancement in all that makes up intellectual and moral growth. One of the most peculiarly human traits is this constant desire and longing after something beyond what is enjoyed at the present. b. So strong is this aspiration that it has been regarded as an in- stinctive evidence of man's imperishableness, and an earnest of his immortality. Assuredly, as the impulse to that endless development by which man is to be transformed into the likeness of God, it has a most sublime and holy office, and ranks the highest of all the desires. c. It is this that goes beyond the mere love of knowledge, of pos- session or power ; as such it seeks excellence for its own sake. It seeks excellence in all things. It is almost religion, yet not, for it is not self- forgetting ; it is self-forgetting only as an advantageous way of self- remembering. In its highest and purest form it seeks that which is excellent, not as compared with what another may be, or possess, but with what is excellent in itself, and as compared with what is already possessed. The true idea of excellence arises from comparing the real 158 AUTOLOGY. with the ideal, the actual with the possible ; and the true love of excel- lence is ever seeking to realize the ideal. The consideration of this will come up more properly under the head of the iEsthetical Affections, to which it belongs. d. Here we are concerned rather with what is known as emulation ; the desire of mastery of the excellence that gives recognized and ad- vantageous supremacy as compared with others. This is a lower order of sentiment than the love of true excellence, which is holiness ; or of ideal excellence, which is art ; both of which will be considered respec- tively in their proper places. The love of mastery is in itself not evil, though it may easily become so. It easily becomes unkindly and de- moralizing in its tendency. Yet in its right state it is only wholesome competition, and the parent of all improvement. A wholesome competi- tion stimulates the individual to effort, and protects the community from the dominion of an established and precedented inferiority ; and this love of mastery, of praiseworthiness, is healthful, and seems as a bracing atmosphere to all forms of human pursuit. e. When, however, this affection becomes, as it it does in its selfish state, mere ambition and rivalry, then its tendency is but little to good, and often to an unmixed evil. The standard of excellence is lowered, success becomes the measure of merit, the heart is filled with selfish- ness, and jealousy and envy come to be pervading. Jealousy is the foe of the anticipated superiority of a rival. Envy is a malign feeling that desires the depreciation and injury of a rival who has already sur- passed us in competition. Ambition is an inordinate desire for mastery. Rivalry is an unscrupulous desire to surpass a competitor. And all these are a perversion of the affection whose office it is to desire real excel- lence for what it is in itself, and which was planted by the Creator for noble purposes. /. To desire the physical excellence of strength, agility, or beauty, to desire intellectual superiority, either in natural endowments or in learned attainments, are in themselves noble sentiments, though not morally good or bad. To desire moral excellence implies an exercise both of the conscience and of the will, and has, therefore, a moral character ; for to desire the right is to be conformed to the right, and this is religion, and as such will be elsewhere treated. The love of true excellence, when it regards the whole character, would seem to be true religion, for it is no less than a love of God, and a desire to be like Him ; so, of course, a desire of evil is sinful, and sin itself. Emulation in its best estate of simply desiring to equal another, is not a sin, though we can hardly desire to surpass another, without some detriment to him. Jealousy may sometimes be only a righteous vigilance against sin and wrong, as when it is said, that a free people are "jealous of their liber- THE AFFECTIONS. 159 ties," and when it is said, " I, the Lord thy God, am a jealous God;" " mj' glory will I not give to another ; " but in these cases it has rather a metaphorical meaning, or is used by way of emphasis or of intentional exaggeration, in order more deeply to impress the real truth. g. Jealousy, in its own proper nature, is a suspiciousness of another's success, and a malicious feeling towards it. Envy is jealousy matured, thus revealing what is the true nature of jealousy. They thus both be- come a feeling of ill-will towards a fellow-being, who possesses any ad- vantage over us in talent, property, influence, or position, and are the most hateful and unworthy of human passions. They become so can- kered with a malicious selfishness, that they can see no good in a rival, nor feel any possible complacency towards him in any respect. They descend rapidly into hate, and come to take a delight in any evil or mis- fortune that may befall a rival, regarding him as the worst enemy. The man who is jealous or envious looks upon every excellence in a rival as a virtue stolen from himself, and every success of a rival as a personal assault and wrong, and hence fancies himself as only vindicating his own rights while he is persecuting his rival, and believes himself to be only making his own defence when he is maliciously destroying the one who has outstripped him. h. The existence of this affection, both in its legitimate and in its per- verted forms, is abundantly manifested in all classes of individuals. In its highest form the love of excellence is found in a few of the great and the good ; but in its common form of emulation, and jealousy, and envy, it may be found everywhere, from the school-boy who prides him- self on the best marbles, or the little girl who delights in the largest doll, to the most eminent men in any calling in life. Both the worthy ami the unworthy have their desire of superiority. The gamester, the sportsman, the prize-fighter, with their implements and animals, and feats of skill and strength ; the competitor at the bar, the politician and the legislator; the farmer with his grains or stock, the manufacturer with his wares and machines; in short, all classes of persons, in all the various pursuits of man, show this same desire for mastery and superiority. In its pure form the love of excellence is, alas ! seldom seen. In the form of honest competition it is not frequent ; but its perversions none the less certainly reveal its existence. i. The pleasure of feeling mastery and exercising superiority is so great that some are glad to gratify it over brutes, as horses and dogs. Hunters and stage-drivers are notorious for this feeling in relation to their brutes ; and many men discard the companionship of their equals, and go down to the ignorant and the low to find dominion and an empire, on the principle that it is "better to reign in hell than serve in heaven; " and this expression shows the desperation of the desire for 160 AUTOLOGY-. superiority. Some men will be wicked and impious for the sake of a "bad eminence " over other wicked men ; and many desire the degrada- tion, of the lowly in order that they may feel conscious of superiority over them. Thus is praise worthiness, the love of superiority, in its nor- mal state, selfial, and in its abnormal state selfish ' % and in the one or the other condition it is everywhere to be found. OEDER I. INDIVIDUAL AFFECTIONS. Class Fourth. Self-annunctative Affections. a. Self-annunciativeness, in its legitimate office, manifests itself in the assertion of the rights of being; viz., the rights of person, property, and proprietorship. It insists on the legitimate demarcation between the meum and the tuum, and demands for itself the rights of " life, liberty, and fhe pursuit of happiness." b. The office of this affection is to give an interest in one's self. It is the basis of all true self-love, self-reliance, self-respect, dignity, au- thority, proprietorship, and magnanimity. It differs from mere self-con- sciousness, in that it is a sensibility of the self with regard to itself, not the bare consciousness that it is a self. c. In its normal condition it is a sensibility to our own individual^ 7 , and a disposition to its manifestation. In this respect it is the disposi- tion to avow personal rights, authority, and opinions ; to direct action to. an end and gain a personal result. It is thus an element not only of being, but of well-being, and essential to effective activity. d. Self-assertion, within its proper limits, is of the essence of all man- liness ; it is the source of all self-development and personal achieving. To assert one's own manhood and proprietorship is to take the ground of all true liberty and of all true personal responsibility. Proprietor- ship, and not power, is the basis of manhood, and responsibility, and rights. e. The assertion, therefore, of proprietorship is the assertion of liberty, the assertion of rights, and the acknowledging of responsibility. A pro- prietor is always responsible, no matter what may be the state of his proprietorship. This proprietorship is the feeling of individuality ; that is, the sensibility to individuality. /. As the essential activity and the essential intelligence give, in their combined state, the consciousness of essential individuality ; and as this individuality, recombined with its original constituents, gives law ; and this again, recombined, gives liberty ; and all recombined, as five separate elements, give will, as a self-conscious, free force ; and as in this case there is the consciousness of a self, as a free will, a free effective force, — THE AFFECTIONS. 161 so in the' case of this affection there is a consciousness of a sensibility to the fact, the state, and the action of this free self which is a will and a force to act. Self and selfialness, will and wilfulness, mark the dis- tinctions here sought to be given. g. Egoism, or self-assertiveness, is the interest which the ego feels in the ego, the self in the self. The disposition, therefore, to self-assertion is the feeling of manhood, proprietorship, responsibility, self-love, self- respect, and is the basis of all independence, magnaminity, and worth. To assert one's self is simply to be, and claim to be, a man, answerable and responsible for his own manhood, and ready to preserve, promote, de- fend, and acquit himself among his fellow-men. It is thus an element of well-being, and essential to effective activity. . h. But as every affection of our nature is liable to perversion, and is, in fact, actually in a state more or less perverted, so this affection has its abuses. Self-annunciation may become egotism, assurance, pride, haughtiness, imperiousness, wilfulness, obstinacy, leading to acts of tyranny, oppression, and cruelty. i. Pride is a disposition to think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think, and to isolate ourselves from others, shutting up our sympathies in a sordid self-seeking and self-esteem. Pride is cold, and solemn, and unsocial, and self-absorbed, while vanity is alive to the opin- ions of others, and seeks to gain approbation, or excite envy or wonder. j. A just self-estimation is the true basis of all self-worthiness, honor, and magnanimity. The particular things for which we respect ourselves will vary with time and relations, but the ground and fact of a disposi- tion to respect ourselves is the same in all. This disposition is a simple, uncompounded fact, existing in all minds in some form, either perverted or true: k. It does not depend on any other affection, power, or qualification of the mind, but often exists most prominently where the grounds for it are the least. It demamds neither capacity, character, nor position, for its existence or support ; and in its perverted form, in which it is oftenest seen, and most felt, it seems to show its unmixed character most dis- tinctly. I. Pride is one of the chief sins of men ; "by that sin fell the angels," nor does any passion oftener pervert our judgment or mislead our lives. Says Pope, — " What the weak head with strongest bias rules Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools." m. Yet the disposition to prefer our own esteem above that of others is the source of all true self-respect and self-reliance. Even the appro- bation of conscience will fail, without the co-operation of this faculty, to give us self-respect. 21 162 AUTOLOGY. " One self-approving hour whole years outweighs Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas." n. This affection also, in its true form, becomes the foundation of all ability to hold a position of authority, and give direction to the lives and- actions of our fellow-men. It is a controlling 1 element in a com- mander, governor, or overseer; it gives the spirit of authority, the bear- ing of command. o. So also, is it the source of true courage, fortitude, and mag- nanimity. The truly proud man is too great to be mean, too proud to be vain, too self reliant to fear, or to stoop to low advantages. A truly proud man feels that he can afford to be just to a foe, and generous to an enemy, though he ma3 r do neither ; and while a love of approbation may lead us .to be careful of our reputation, and sensitive about some code of honor, when our deeds are known and our conduct is public, a true self-respect will lead us to set at nought all these things, whether our conduct be known or not ; and though it may not impel us to act con- scientiously or nobly, it will lead us to make our own rule of action, and prefer our own good opinion to that of others. p. This affection is also a strong resource against calamity, even in its perverted state. The struggle of pride, in its greatness and self- reliance, is given in that passage in "Paradise Lost," where it is said of the arch-fiend, — "Thrice he essayed to speak, and thrice, in spite Of pride, tears such as angels weep gushed forth." q. Thus this self-annunciative affection in its true state is the source of self-respect, authoritativeness, firmness, self-reliance, fortitude, and magnanimity, and leads to worthy action ; while in its depra'ved state it is pride, arrogance, and imperiousness, leading to selfishness and oppression. r. In its pure state it gives to an unfallen being the air of a serene nobleness, while in its perversion it gives to a fallen soul the spirit of arrogance and the aspect of scorn. It becomes thus a large, sad ele- ment in the heart of fallen man, and a rebellious subject in the empire of the will. These affections have the following manifestations, viz.: — ■ Class Fourth. Self-annunciative Affections. Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish State. 1. Self-assertion. Egotism, Arrogance, Tyranny. 2. Self-reliance. Fool-hardiness, Pusillanimity. 3. Firmness. Obstinacy. THE AFFECTIONS. 163 Selfial Stale. Sel/ish State. 4. Self-respect. Pride, Haughtiness. «j 5. Dignity. Vanity, Pompousness, Parade. 6. Authority. Imperiousness, Wilfulness. 7. Proprietorship. Purse-pride, Assumingness. 8. Magnanimity. Presumption. 9. Politeness. Patronizingness, Flattery, Duplicity. These sum up a These sum up a Gentleman. Boor and a Monster. First Manifestation — • Self-assertion. Selfial State. Selfish State. Self-assertion. Egotism. a. The first manifestation of the self-annunciative affections is self- assertion, which is the normal and selfial state, and egotism, which is its abnormal and selfish state. 6. Self-assertion is the simple expression of conscious existence, and of the rights that belong thereto. It is putting forth the claims of man- hood and proprietorship, and demanding for them the rights of person, property, and also of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is simple self-recognition and self-annunciation. c. Every man must assert his own claims to manhood and its rights, and take, and defend, and provide for that^manhood. ( It will not suffer itself to be put down or silenced. It stands opposed to obtrusiveness and egotism, which impose themselves upon others, and are regardless of their rights. Egotism is inordinate self-consciousness ; self-assertion only claims its own. Obtrusiveness forces itself into positions where it has no right ; self-assertion demands, contends for, defends, and main- tains its own individuality and its own rights. d. It is the next aggressive form of self-love after self-sustentation, defence, and acquisition. It asserts its claims as the positive manifesta- tion of that self-love which is the original and instinctive law of life, and manifests that natural interest in our own being and personality which leads us to appreciate it, care for it, preserve it, and use it for legitimate purposes. Second, Manifestation — Self-reliance. Selfial State. Selfish State. Self-reliance. Fool-hardiness, Pusillanimity. 164 AUTOLOGY. a. Self-reliance is that consciousness of our own individual power, and distinct individuality that disposes us to . provide for, protect and defend ourselves, in undefiant yet firm independence. It gives decision and manliness to the whole character, and stands opposed at once to pusillanimity on the one hand, and fool-hardiness on the other. Third Manifestation — Firmness. Selfial State. Selfish Slate. Firmness. Obstinacy. a. Firmness is scarcely distinguishable from self-reliance ; yet it is the property of the mind that gives steadiness .of aim, persistence of effort, and stability of character. It enters largely into all the sterner virtues, and contributes to their greatness and strength. It is in- dispensable to any great achievement. b. It sustains the soldier in battle and the martyr at the stake. It stands by the reformer in his hard combat and long waiting, and keeps him steadfast until the evil day is past, and truth and righteousness are triumphant. So, on the other hand, when wedded to alow conservatism, and joined to old prejudice, this disposition is a hinderance to all progress and all reform. Jt becomes at length mere opinionativeness, impracticability, and obstinacy. Fourth Manifestation — Self-respect. Selfial Stale. Selfish State. Self-respect. Pride, Haughtiness. * a. Self-respect is such a regard fbr a man's own opinions, position, and personality, as will not allow him to compromise them or himself by any unworthy act, nor allow any one else to trifle with, trample upon; or disregard them. It stands opposed to mere pride of opinion or per- son, and to all haughtiness of manner, and is simply the consciousness of what is due from any man to his own manhood. Fifth Manifestation — Dignity. Selfial State. Selfish State. Dignity. Vanity, Parade. a. Dignity is the bearing of one who, conscious that he has an honest self-respect, feels honestly able and willing to respect others ; and that, THE AFFECTIONS. 165 in no patronizing spirit, but in an intelligent and honest recognition of their rights and merits. b. The mingling of honest self-respect and honest respect for others affords the basis of all true dignity. This dignity stands opposed to all vanity, all pompousness and love of parade, and all wearing of titles that are pretentious, and all airs that are put on for effect and show. Sixth Manifestation — Authority. Selfial State. Selfish State. Authority. Arrogance. Authority is the natural expression of individuality in avowing it- self, and in asserting its own prerogative, and is a first element of man- hood. It is a feeling of the legitimate and natural kingship of the human soul over itself and its own destinies. Every man is a sovereign and a self-governor, a man in authority over himself. It stands all opposed to arrogance towards others, and wilfulness in ourselves ; it is simply self-ruling. Seventh Manifestation — Proprietorship. Selfial State. Selfish State. Proprietorship. Purse-pride, Assumingness. a. Proprietorship is the original consciousness of possession, owner- ship, property, and rights of possession. It is the feeling of every human being that he has a right to himself, to his own person, and to that which by his exertion of mind or body he has acquired. b. This is claimed in the very assertion of self and individuality, and is a first thing in manhood, the basis of all rights and all responsibility, and lies, as a constituent of manhood, in the very nature of liberty and of being itself. It stands opposed to all assumption and pride of purse, and all impious disregard of God, all profane denial of dependence upon him, and all unhallowed assumption of prerogative in our own rights, and in scorn of God's being or authority. Eighth Manifestation — Magnanimity. Selfial State. Selfish State. Magnanimity. Presumption, Imperiousness. a. This affection grows out of all the preceding ones, and is such a mingling of self-love, self-reliance, self-respect, dignity, authority, and 166 AUTOLOGY, proprietorship, as to give that true greatness of soul which we call mag- nanimity. It is such a consciousness of the possession of all these things, as raises the soul above selfish anxieties, and disposes it to justice and generosity to others. b. This property stands opposed to all presumption, to all that opposeth and exalteth itself against God, on the one hand, and to all indifference and haughtiness towards men, on the other. It is true greatness of soul. And this leads, lastly, to the ninth manifestation. Ninth Manifestation — Politeness. Selfial State, Selfish State. Politeness. Patronizingness, Flattery, Duplicity. a. True politeness is the blossom of all these preceding manifesta- tions. It has self-assertion, self-reliance, self-respect, dignity, authority, proprietorship, and magnanimity ; these combined and attempered to- gether give true politeness. b. This politeness stands opposed to all patronizing, all flattery, all duplicity, and is simply the generous and general justice of a magnani- mous soul towards any other fellow-being. c. This completes the order of Individual Affections, with its several classes and various manifestations ; and after considering them all through in their respective states, and summing them all up, we find on the selfial side this result, as the combination of all nature's good quali- ties, viz , a nature's nobleman, a prince and gentleman by right of crea- tion. And on the selfish side we find, as the sum total of all the perversions of nature, this result, viz., a nature's monster. d. The gentleman thus produced is an original Adam, and the monster is a Cain. The high Christian elements are not included in the one, though a perfect fiend is found in the other. The one is man upright, in the original image of God ; the other, a fallen and depraved spirit. ORDER II. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS. Selfial State. Selfish State. Social Affections. Gregariousness: They are divided into three classes, viz., — Class First. Marital Affections. Animal Passions. THE AFFECTIONS. 16t Class Second. Selfial State Selfish State. Kindred Affections. Tribal Feeling. Class Third. Amical Affections. Social Caste. These sum up These sum up A Society, Government. A Herd, Feudalism. a. The Social Affections are the seeoud order of determinate affec- tions, and are derived from the determination of all the six elemental affections into and through trustfulness, whence they flow out through the individual affections, and beyond them into a body by themselves ; here they form a distinct body, yet partake of all of which they are compounded and with which they have mingled. b. As the first order of determinate affections is a determination of all the elemental affections through desirefulness, — which is the first ele- mental affection, — so is the second order of determinate affections a determination of all the elemental affections through trustfulness, which is the second elemental affection. But as the Individual Affections arise more especially out of Desirefulness, and take its characteristics, so do the Social Affections arise more especially out of Trustfulness, and take its characteristics. c. It must here be carefully noted that each successive order of de- terminate affections is formed by three successive and connected move- ments. First. By the concentration for the time being of all the elemental affections into that one from which such determinate order is formed, and to which it corresponds. Second. By the flowing out of this elemental affection, in which all the rest are so concentred, through all the intervening orders of deter- minate affections, and the mingling with them ; and ' Third. By flowing over and beyond them into a distinct body by themselves, and there dividing and branching into classes and manifes- tations. d. Thus the social order of affections is formed by the concentration of all the elemental affections, viz., desirefulness, trustfulness, hopeful- ness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness, into the element of trustfulness, as the mould and channel of the whole : this is the first movement. Then by the flowing out of all these from trustfulness, through the order and all the classes and manifestations of Individual Affections, and mingling and blending with them : this is the second 168 AUTOLOGY. movement. And then by flowing- over and beyond all the classes and manifestations of the order of Individual Affections into a distinct body by themselves, and then dividing into classes and manifestations of their own : this is the last and completing movement by. which this order of determinate affections is foimed. e. As the elemental affection of trustfulness comes naturally after desirefulness, so also do the Social affections, as a determinate order, come naturally after the Individual affections as a determinate order ; and as each elemental affection combines in itself all the elemental affec- tions that precede it, so does each successive order of determinate affections combine in itself not only all the elemental affections, but also all the orders of determinate affections that precede it. Each order of determinate affections is, therefore, a combination, first, of all the ele- mental affections, and then of all the orders of determinate affections that precede it, concentred in itself, and thirdly, and most especially, it is a growth and development peculiar and individual, having its own life and characteristics, which spring out of, rise above, and are distinct from, all other affections. f. We have, therefore, the Social Affections standing over against, corresponding to, and arising out of the elemental affection of Trustful- ness ; and what is here said of the mode, the relation, position, and de- pendence of this order of affections will be found true, in like manner, of all the succeeding orders of determinate affections. The social affec- tions are here confined to the relations of consanguinity and personal friendship, leaving their more expanded exercises to the other and suc- ceeding orders of affections. Their office will appear in the several classes into which they are divided. The first step of ascent above individuality is sociality ; and this brings us to the first class of social affections. Class First. Marital Affections. Selfial State. Selfish State. Marital Affections. Animal Passions. a. When God created man in Eden, He said, "It is not good that the man should be alone ; I will make him a help meet for him." So made he a woman, and brought her unto the man, and Adam said, "This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh ; she shall be called woman, because she was taken out of man. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife ; and they shall be one flesh." " So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him ; male and female created he them. And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth and subdue it." THE AFFECTIONS. - 169 b. These scriptures give the full intent and office of the marital affection. In it mind and matter, spirit and nature, meet and mingle. Sensation is the form of spirit, and the embodiment of the mind's inten- tion. Mind and matter here blend and co-operate, the last being only the form of the first, as body to soul. c. Thus the social affections, like the individual, have their roots in an appetite. As the appetite for food, called hunger, lies at the basis of all individual affections, so also physical appetite lies at the basis of all social affections, albeit the spirit permeates all. d. The social affections have for their office our duties to our fellow- beings, and underlie all our social relations. Not one of. all our duties is left to mere reason, prudence, or principle, but each is supplied with an affection, impelling to its performance, when that affection is unper- verted or undiseased. e. Man is largely a social being ; his faculties are communicative, and his affections are sympathetic, and his education and superiority are promoted by a community of knowledge, an interchange of thought, and a mingling in social intercourse. By comparing observations and opinions, errors are corrected and knowledge increased ; and by the attrition of personal intercourse and the intercommunication of ideas,' man becomes socialized in habits, and refined in manners. f. Society is therefore both a natural want and a natural educator; and the feeling of this want is deep in man's nature. Without society, man pines in solitude, shrivels in his affections, and dwarfs in intellect. Man's power, as well as his happiness, comes from his association ; alone he is more feeble than many of the brute creation. He would be un- able alone to defend or long sustain himself; but by associated strength and intelligence he becomes lord of this lower world. g. Communion and sympathy with his kind are a source alike of development, power, and enjoyment ; and nature has laid the foundation for society alike in the wants of our physical, intellectual, and moral nature. Man's intellect, and affections, and .conscience, all find the legit- imate field for their action and development only in society. h. All that is pure and tender in the affections, all that is exalted in intellectual attainment, all that is divine in the tone and decisions of the conscience, man attains by his relations and intercourse with society. The treasures of knowledge, the institutions of learning, the organiza- tions of government, the courts of law, the customs of society, the prin- ciples of religion, all these grow out of man's social relations, and exist only because man has a social nature. i. The deepest and firmest foundation-stone of the social temple, upon which the whole structure rests, is the marital affection : we therefore place it first in this order of the affections, as we did animal 22 110 AUTOLOGY. hunger in the order of the individual affections. In their selfial form the marital affections are "very good," as God made them; only when per- verted are they sinful. They are respectively as follows : — Class First. Marital Affections. Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish Stale. 1. Mutual Interest of the Sexes. Fleshly Lusts. 2. Susceptibility to physical Beauty Sensualism. in Man or Woman respectively. 3. Appreciation of Mental and Mor- Uxoriousness, al Qualities. Infatuation, 1) OTARDISM. These lead to and constitute These lead to Love, Marriage and Home. Licentiousness, Concubinage, The Harem. First Manifestation. Mutual Interest of the Sexes, Fleshly Lusts. a. The marital affections are the mutual interests of the sexes in each other. In this God has secured the succession of the generations of men, so that the race shall not become extinct, just as in the appetite for food he has defended the race from extinction by starvation ; and great as are the vices, the diseases, degradation, and crimes which these appetites and desires render possible, and to which they have in all ages been perverted, yet God has shown, by creating them and making them a part of his economy, that the interests which they are necessary to guard are more important and vital to the well-being of the race, than the vices to which they are perverted are detrimental and destructive to it; hence he has adopted them as part of his system' of things, and made the preservation of life and the preservation of the race depend upon them. b. God has divided the parental office between the father and the mother, thus enlarging the social basis by resting' it equally upon two individuals, and making it, in both, a social affection and a physical want. The marital affection is the first social feeling, and, though springing from both a physical and a social want is yet not all of these alone. c. The mutual affection of the sexes arises also from a susceptibility to beauty ; and this brings us to the THE AFFECTIONS. 171 Second Manifestation. Selfial Slate. Selfish Slate. A Susceptibility to physical Beauty • A prurient Sensuality." in Man or Woman respectively. a. Female beauty has a perpetual charm for man ; to him truly this "Thing of beauty is a joy forever;" And nothing can be to him lovelier than is " The light of a dark eye in woman." Of his bride lost in death by the hand of a murderer, the lamenting Giaour says, — " She was a form of life and light That, seen, became a part of sight, And rose where'er I turned mine eye The morning star of memory." b. While on the other hand, woman admires the form •' Where every god did seem to set his seal To give the world assurance of a man." c. Of the human figure, Milton says, speaking of the first pair in Paradise, — "Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native honor clad, In naked majesty seemed lords of all, Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed; For contemplation he and valor formed, For softness she and sweet attractive grace; His fair large front and eye sublime declared Absolute rule ; and Hyacinthine locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad; She as a veil down to the slender waist Her unadorned golden tresses wore, Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved, As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied Subjection, but required with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best received, Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay." d. This original susceptibility to beauty of form and figure, complex- ion, expression and bearing, is, in its normal and selfial state, part of man's nature, and " very good." In its perverted and selfish state it becomes- a pruriency and a sensuality, which lead only to degradation and vice. Third Manifestation. ■Selfial State. Selfish Slate. An Appreciation of Mental and Uxoriousness, Infatuation, Moral Qualities. Dotardism. 172 AUTOLOGY. a. Here the marital affection springs from sociality of thought, a sympathy of sentiment, a geniality of character, tastes, and pursuits, and extends to the highest properties of the intellectual and moral nature, as well as to the appetites of mere physical existence. b. Love is a passion of the whole mind, which finds its gratification in the entire individuality of its object, and seeks the possession of it ; and the flowing together of these two rills of mutual affection forms the great stream of social life. c. The desire of companionship is so strong in man, that he will make to himself friends of brute creatures or inanimate objects, if he has none of his fellow-beings with whom to associate. , d. This manifestation, good in itself, has its excess and mischief in vile companionship, in uxoriousness and infatuation, and the imbecility of the dotard. And all these manifestations, in their right, normal, and self- ial state, sum up and produce love, genuine love, marriage, honorable marriage, and the home of husband, wife, and children. In their evil, selfish, and sinful state, these affections produce licentiousness, concu- binage, and the harem. ORDEH II. THE SOCIAL AFFECTIONS. Class Second. Kindred Affections. Selfial State. Selfish State. Kindred Affections. Tribal Feeling. a. This class of affections has the three following Manifestations. 1. Parental Affection. Indulgence. 2. Filial Affection. Pride of Blood, Aristocracy. 3. Fraternal Affection. The Clan Spirit. This sums up This sums up The Family Relation. The Tribe. b. The kindred affections are strong and kindly. Their influence and effect are humane and benevolent in the sphere in which they move. They give a quicker interest and a livelier sympathy in-human relations, and contribute to humanizing the otherwise barbarous intercourse of men. c We' identify ourselves with our family and kindred, make their cares our cares, their interests our interests. We feel their joy and sorrow, honor and dishonor, their promotion and their failure ; when they prosper we are glad, and when they are unfortunate we share their THE AFFECTIONS. 173 distress. When they are sick we mourn ; when they are wounded we bleed ; when they are assailed, we succor them ; and when they are in danger we rally for their defence, not counting our life, dear. d. Now, all this is well, very good ; yet this feeling of kindred affec- tion may become a vice and a mischief. It may degenerate into mere tribal feeling and a narrow and sordid clannishness. It may come to be a mere selfish indulgence and pride, leading to a disregard of all worth, justice, and benevolence. e. When so, it is the fruitful source of feuds, and strifes, and civil wars. While the kindred affections are pure and almost benevolent, the tribal feeling is often only selfish. The kindred affections are confined to the ties of consanguinity, and appear first in the parental affections. /. This affection we find in the selfial and selfish states, as follows : — First Manifestation — Parental Affection. Selfial State. Selfish State. Parental Affection. Parental Indulgence. a. This affection is the natural and spontaneous love of parents for their offspring ; its design is to secure the sustenance, protection, and education of the young during infancy and youth, in order to prepare them for the cares and duties of their own life. b. It is, perhaps, more purely unselfish than the marital affection, and usually manifests itself most strongly in the mother. A mother's affection for her child is nature's religion. It is nearer to pure ethical love than any other natural sentiment of the heart. It is nature going out from herself in a most natural and spontaneous unselfishness ; and certainly if it is not in itself a moral virtue, it is nature's nearest sem- blance thereto. Assuredly disinterested benevolence and unselfishness cannot have a more striking suggestion of themselves than this ; and it would seem that in the maternal heart all benevolent institutions must have had their origin. God seems here to have given to men the nat- ural impulse to all benevolence. c. But this affection may become an infirmity and a sin. When it comes to be the mere fondness of parental affection, the mere indulgence of a doting infatuation, the irresolute lenience of a weak-hearted kind- ness, then is it a sin and a wrong which involves the parent in guilt, and the child in wilfulness and ungovernable passions, and works only mischief and sin. Second Manifestation — Filial Affections. Selfial State. • Selfish State. Filial Affection. Pride of* Blood, Aristocracy. IU AUTOLOGY. a. This is a branch springing from the same original stock. The love of children for their parents is the reflex influence of the love of parents for their children. b. It is not so strong as the former, and needs support and enlarge- ment from other sources. Over and above the native instinct it is greatl} r strengthened by a sense of obligation and gratitude, and is enhanced greatly by a respect for the intelligence, social position, or moral worth of the parents. c. And here it is exceedingly liable to run into family pride, pride of blood and aristocracy, which work invidious distinctions, and produce absurd pretensions, greatly . damaging to those who hold them, and creating enmity in the hearts of others. Filial affection, however, in its normal and purely selfial state, is an original sentiment in the human heart, right and good. Third Manifestation — Fraternal Affections. Selfial State. Selfish State. Fraternal Affection. The Clan Spirit. a. This is the family feeling which, deviating from the direct line of parent and child, extends in a lateral direction ; embracing, first, the immediate family, it reaches to the wLole extent of a tribe, clan, race, or nation. It fixes on the paternal home, and then attaches to the fire- side, the farm, the neighborhood, the country; hence what was mere' fraternity becomes clanship, and then, if rightly directed, as we shall hereafter see, it becomes patriotism and philanthropy. b. The mere family feeling is, however, often contracting, 'the clan- nish feeling illiberal, and the tribal interest invidious. Yet, in its pure state, the love of brother for brother, sister for sister, and of brother and sister, is second only to the love of a mother for a child. c. To no lover are the delicate virtues of a maiden so divine as to her own brother. Nor is the manly worth of a brother ever so highly appreciated as by a sister, while these relations are not infringed upon by any others. He is my brother ; she is my sister ; the same blood is in our veins ; these are the divinest recognitions of humanity. d. This, in its pure state, is almost a religious sentiment ; to be without it is to be justly thought unnatural, and wanting in the hu- mane properties of the heart. The kindred affections as a whole, in their normal and selfial state, sum themselves up in the family relations with all their benign influences and results. e. The same affections in their selfish state sum themselves up in the tribe, and lose the domestic virtues in mere clannish prejudice. THE AFFECTIONS. H5 ORDER II. THE SOCIAL AFFECTIONS. Class Third. The Amical Affections. Selfial State. Selfish State. Amical Affection.' Social Caste. a. This class of affections relates to friends without regard to kin or country, and is based on a sentiment of mutuality and congeniality in tastes, culture, and pursuits. b. It is much enhanced in its higher developments by the reciprocal appreciation of great virtues of character and great endowments of mind, especially by sympathy in noble and self-sacrificing pursuits for the glory of God and the good of men. . c. In its lower forms it is merely personal, and based perhaps on per- sonal reciprocities of taste, benefit, and enjoyment. In its higher forms it is a reciprocal appreciation and affection for great virtues mutually possessed and nobly exercised ; and in this state the affection ascends above the sphere of the merely social, and indicates character as right and opposed to the wrong, and becomes heroic and ethical in its nature. d. But there are friendships among the bad, as well as the good, which are only a social selfishness, and not at all of an ethically pure character; showing that the amical affections, like all other social and individual affections, are in themselves neither right nor wrong, but simply a part of man's original constitution, and a subdivision of his sensibili- ties, which may be either right or wrong, according to the objects towards which they are exercised. This will more fully appear as we take up the following manifestations of these affections. First Manifestation — Friendliness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Friendliness. Boon Companions. Love of Friends and Benefactors. Confreres. Kindred Spirits of mutual Tastes, Revellers. and Works. Damon and Pythias. a. The exercise of friendliness growing out of a regard for benefactors and kindred spirits, and those whose tastes and pursuits are similar to our own, is a natural and healthy exercise of the heart, good and desir- able in itself, though not an ethical virtue. b. On the other hand, the fellowship of boon companions, the inter- 116 AUTOLOGY. course of confreres, and the carousings of revellers, are evil and detrimen- tal, wrong, morally wrong. Such friendship isnot friendly, but selfish, sensual, demoralizing. Second Manifestation — Sociableness. Selfial State. Selfish State, Sociableness. Tllicitness. Regard for Neighbors. Promiscuous Intercourse. Mingling in Sports. Unrestraint. Amusements, Celebrations, Schools, and Religious Worship. a. The. intercourses of society within the limits, and surrounded by the enclosures, of the family, the church, the school, the neighborhood, and the social gathering for celebrations, sports, holidaj^s, amusements, and religious worship,, are all good, and promotive of humane and beneficent ends ; at least they are selfial only, and not evil. b. But the promiscuous and illicit mingling in unrestraint, with no sacred enclosures of home, family, domestic relations, church, or school, is selfish and demoralizing. Coming together for mere amusement is seldom without injury and sin. c. Friendliness and sociableness are highly beneficial, though their opposites, either of excess or negation, are ruinous. If instead of sociableness we have moroseness and self-seclusion, it is a vice ; and if instead of friendliness we have hostility, it is a sin against the indi- vidual and a mischief in the community. We see, then, that these affec- tions may be good or evil, right or wrong. Third Manifestation — Reciprocalness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Reciprocalness. Party Spirit. In Business Relations, Brigandism. In Interchanges of Labor, Embargo. Ln Traffic, Barter, In Travel, Roads and Nav- igation. a. Now, all these amical affections, thus fully expanded and developed into their various manifestations and modes of life and kinds of character, when complete sum up on the selfial and selfish sides as follows : — THE AFFECTIONS. 177 Selfial State. Selfish State. The Neighborhood, Communism, or Barbarous The Borough, Seclusion. The Municipality. b. We here come to the end of the social affections, with their classes and manifestations. They are an order by themselves, and fill a large place in human feelings and intercourses. They begin in the affection of two, as husband and wife, and passing through all kindred affections, expand to universal friendship and fellowship. And 'this brings us to the next order of affections, viz. : — OEDER III. PATRIOTIC AFFECTIONS. Selfial State. Selfish State. Patriotism and Loyalty. Clannishness and Treason. a. There is no affection of the mind better known, or at least none more talked about, than Patriotism, and none more eulogized as a high virtue. The possession of it is regarded often as an apology for many vices, and the absence of it as unredeemed by the presence of many virtues. It rises above and expands beyond the social affections, as they rise above and extend beyond the individual affections. b. This order is formed by three successive and connected movements. First, By the determination of all the elemental affections, — desire- fulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and rever- entialness, — through hopefulness; and Second. By flowing out through the determinate orders of indi- vidual affections and social affections, and partaking of them all ; and Third. By flowing over beyond them, and forming a distinct body for themselves, and dividing themselves into classes and manifestations. c. Thus the patriotic affections rise naturally out of and above the two preceding orders, viz., individual affections and social affections, and stand over against, and correspond to, the elemental affection of hopefulness. d. The relation of this order to hopefulness is not direct, but general, as indeed that of all the determinate affections is to the indeterminate ; yet as individual interest may grow out of mere desirefulness, so, when trustfulness is added to desirefulness, there will arise and expand from them the social affections ; then, if hope be added to trust, the social affections will widen into patriotic affections, and so on until the development is complete. e. There is, then, a real and not simply a coincidental relation of the several orders of the determinate affections to the indeterminate or 23 178 AUTOLOGY. elemental affections which correspond to them. Just so also is there a real and organic relation of each determinate order of affections to the pre- ceding order of determinate affections. Thus the patriotic affections par- take cf all the elemental affections, and of all the determinate affections which have preceded them ; they are derived from them all, and are all both good and noble. /. All the affections are in their selfial state equally good, yet they seem to rise and develop one upon 'another, in ever higher and larger grades and growths. The social is above the individual, and the patri- otic above the social, and so through the whole series ; though no one is in reality more pure or worthy than the others. g. The love of country grows almost necessarily out of loving our- selves. The lowest individual affection of self-sustentation is of the same root out of which patriotism grows ; and so the self-defensive, self- acquisitive, and self-annunciative affections of the individual order all enter into patriotism ; and so also are the marital, kindred, and arnica! affections of the social order all called into play in the patriotic affec- tions, which are only a larger development and a more specific deter- mination of them all. h. The love of country is thus natural and right ; and to be destitute of it is regarded as akin to that unnaturalness, and partaking of that falseness, which the mother shows who does not love her child and pro- vide for it, or a child that maltreats or neglects the parent. i. An unpatriotic man is always regarded with abhorrence, for he enjoys the shelter of a roof, the hospitality of a home, the protection of laws, the defence of arms, and the fruit of a soil for which he is willing to make no return ; he loves not his own mother. He is selfish, un- grateful, base, and . cowardly, and is justly more despised and scorned than an open enemy. The man who is false to his country sums up and commits all crimes in one. j. This abhorrence of the unpatriotic man, which is felt by all, finds a fitting expression in the lines of Scott, — "Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned As home his footsteps he hath turned? The wretch, concentred all in self, Living shall forfeit fair renown, And doubly dying shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung." Patriotism, as we have seen, has its root deep down in the being of man, and derives its life from the profoundest depths of human interest. The THE AFFECTIONS. . 119 true sentiment of a living and fervent patriotism is touckingly set forth in the words of the departing missionary, — "Yes, my native land, I love thee; All thy scenes, I love them well : Friends, connections, happy country, Can I bid you all farewell ? "Home, thy joys are passing lovely — Joys no stranger heart can tell. Happy home, indeed I love thee : Can I, can I say farewell ? " Scenes of sacred peace and pleasure, Holy days and Sabbath bell, Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure, CanI say a last farewell ? " k. In this way do the patriotic affections entwine themselves arounu all the tenderest objects of personal, social, domestic, political, and religious life, and branch out into classes and manifestations, which wind and interbraid themselves around all the facts, forms, features, and relations of kindred, home, and country, and bear through them all the same warm current of life, and cover them all with the same foliage, and flower, and fruit of human interest, sympathy, and love. Patriotic Affections. Selfial Stale. Selfish State. Patriotism and Loyalty. Clannishness and Treason. Class First. Raceal Affections. Manifestations. Love of our own Race, Race-hostility. Of Blood Relations. Blood-feuds. War of Races, Serfdom. Pariahism, Slavery. Class Second. Local Affections. Manifestations. Attachment to Home, Homesickness. House, Garden, Barn, Farm, Soil, Hills, Brooks, Plains, Desiderium Suorum. • Valleys, Rivers, Mountains, Lakes, Forests, Waterfalls, Groves, Fountains, Lawns, Seas, Islands, Deserts, Volcanoes, 180 AUTOLOGY. Class Third. Cultal Affections. Manifestations. Selfial State. Atatchment to Social and National Customs, Feasts, Holidays, Games, Christmas, New Year, Thanksgiving, Weddings, Worship, Funerals, Sports, Hunts, Pageants, Songs, Dances, Festal Music. Selfish State. Diseased Sensibility to Home, Songs, and Customs. Slavery to Customs. Nostalgia. Class Fourth. National Affections. Manifestations. Love of our own Nation, National Pride. Attachment t.o Government, History, Heroes, Kings, Statesmen, My Country, right Poets, Orators, Great Men, or wrong. Institutions, Celebrations, Fourth of July, Flag, Arms, Parades, Expatriation. Martial Music, Yankee Doodle, Hail Columbia, Star-spangled Banner, Marseilles Hymn, God save the King. These sum up a Country and a State. These sum up a Territory and Feudalism. These comprehend all the classes of Patriotic Affections consider these several classes in their order, and in detail. we will now Class First. Eaceal Affections Manifestations. Selfial State. Love of our own Race, Of Blood Relations. Selfish State. Race-hostility. Blood-feuds. a. The affection for our race, as the Caucasian or Indian, consists in an expansion of the kindred affection. It grows out of our blood rela- tions. The love of parents for children, and the love of brothers and kindred widens into love for the whole race to which we belong; and though this is not patriotism, but clannishness, yet it is essential to patriotism ; for if we have no family, nor kindred race, in a country, nor THE AFFECTIONS. 181 ever have had, why should we love it ? Our country is dear because it nurtures and protects our countrymen, of the same race with ourselves! b. This is the first and lowest form of patriotic affections ; a fellow- feeling with those whose blood is the same that flows in our own veins, and with whom we thus have sympathy. This is the basis of local, cultal, and national affection, the root that grows up and becomes patri- otism. c. On the contrary, the perversion of raceal affections becomes clan- nishness, enmity and hatred of other races, leading to blood-feuds, and # war of races, to slaughter, persecution, and extermination of races, or, what is worse than all, pariahism, or enslavement of races. d. This last and bitterest curse, this deepest depravity of . humanity, — this is that " hating of our brother " which damns the soul. The man who would make a slave of his brother and degrade him from his man- hood, the race which would enslave and rob an inferior race, commits a crime against humanity which the Heavens will avenge. This is the last depth of the perversion of the raceal affection to the hatred of races. e. The Jews, the Gypsies, the Irish, and the Africans are each speci- mens of the strength of raceal affection, for they hold on to their own separate individualities with a tenacity of interest that centuries of per- secution and hate cannot extinguish ; and they are illustrations also of the wrong, the wickedness, and the folly of race-oppression. By the race-hate of the Russians and Austrians, the Poles and the Hungarians are kept on the rack of a living torture from age to age. f. To love our kindred, to feel a pride in our race, is natural and right ; but to hate any other race for their blood is not only wrong, but cruel and satanic, for "God hath made of one blood all nations of men, for to dwell on all the. face of the earth." Class Second. Local Affections. Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish State. Attachment to Home, House, Homesickness. Garden, Barn, Farm, &c. Desiderium Suorum. a. Patriotism is a love of country, and this love must have " a local habitation and a name." It must fix on home, soil, hills, plains, rivers, mountains, lakes, forests, waterfalls, deserts, volcanoes, seas, islands, or some object of nature where we have lived. • b. It loves the form as well as the spirit; and hence, while it sings — " My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing," 182 AUTOLOGY. it adds, — and, Land where my fathers died, Land of the Pilgrims' pride," I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills, mingling thus history and locality, event and place, spirit and form. The land is dear where the fathers died, where the Pilgrims lived ; the mountains which they looked upon, and the rivers by which they dwelt; and the form becomes dear by association, and is as commemorative and monumental of thoughts and sentiments as of events. c. It is the land and its scenery that give embodiment to thought, and are objects to affection ; and all that is dear and wondrous in childhood, all that is romantic in youth, all that is ardent in young man- hood, and victorious in mature life, and all that is solacing in age, seem to take form, and feature, and body in the. natural objects and scenery of a country ; and hence the country in its physical extent, aspects, and forms, becomes the object, the shrine, of all our affection's. d. The place where we were born, where we lived and loved, toiled and played, grew up and grew strong, grew old and spent our days, — such places are ever dear to our hearts. Says the patriot Tell, — " Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again ; I hold to you the hands ye oft have seen, To show you that they still are free. Methinks A spirit in your echoes answers me, And bids me welcome to your arms again." e. This sentiment of local affection, fixing itself on places and things, is beautifully set forth in the lines entitled The Old Oaken Bucket. "How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view, The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wildwpod, And every loved spot which my infancy knew. The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, . The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well. The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. " That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure; For often, at noon when returned. from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell, THE AFFECTIONS. 183 Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well ! The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The. moss-covered bucket arose from the well. " How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips ! Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, The brightest that beauty or revelry sips. And now, far removed from thy loved habitation, The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well. The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, that hangs in the well." /. This affection is felt by the soldier far away, the sailor on distant seas, the traveller, the slave, the prisoner, the emigrant ; and it amounts often to disease. Homesickness is no fiction ; and the first sight of a native hill, river, sea, or shore, is a joy which only they who have been long away can tell. g. Love of country is, then, one of the most human of all human loves, and homesickness the most kindly and virtuous of all human infirmities. It is next to loving our kindred ; indeed, it is the same, only it has taken on a local form ; and when our kindred are dead and gone, we love the place where they lived, even as we love the body, though the soul has fled, and the picture when the living face is gone, and the very grave where the dead have mouldered. h. Patriotism leads to our loftiest deeds of courage, self-sacrifice, and daring, as well as to our lowliest loves. The love of country has its spring in our hearts' blood, and for our country our hearts' blood is most freely shed. Our homes and hearths, our kindred and loved ones, give the vital spirit to our patriotism. Our best brain and our best blood, our noblest deeds and deepest sacrifices, are always made for our country. Heroism and oratory, poetry and song, learning and art, all take their root in the soil, and but for the soil would hardly be at all. i. "The Ten Thousand " Greeks of Xenophon, who in that ever-mem- orable retreat from the depths of Asia, after a circuitous and contested march, and a long, dangerous, and toilsome absence, shouted, " The sea! The sea!" when from the distant mountains their eyes first fell on the waves of the Euxine, whose waters lave their own native shore, are an instance of the deep heart-yearning which the long absent feel for the physical forms of their mother country. And the shout of the Ger- mans, "Am Rhein! Am Rhein!" on their first glimpse of that river, as they returned victorious from battle, both in an early and now in our own time, is also a well-known instance of patriotic enthusiasm for a great object in the physical conformation of their native country. 184 AUTOLOGY. "It is the Rhine, our mountain vineyards laving; I see the bright flood'shine; Sing on the march, with every banner waving; Sing, brothers : 'tis the Rhine ! " The Rhine, the Rhine, our own imperial river! Be glory on thy track ! We left thy shores to die or to deliver; We bear thee freedom back. " Hail ! hail ! My childhood knew thy rush of water, Even as a mother's song; " That sound went past me on the field of slaughter, And heart and arm grew strong. " Roll proudly on ! Brave blood is with thee sweeping, Poured out by sons of thine, When sword and spirit forth in joy were leaping Like thee, victorious Rhine ! " Home ! home ! thy glad wave hath a tone of greeting, Thy path is by my home ; Even now my children count the hours till meeting; O ransomed ones, I come ! " Go, tell the seas that chain shall bind thee never; Sound on, by hearth and shrine ; Sing through the hills, that thou art free forever; Lift up thy voice, O Rhine ! " j. The perversion of this affection is like that of the preceding 1 class. The hatred of a foreign country is as absurd and wicked as the hatred of a race. Humanity shows its worst features here, in the devilish spirit of hostility and conquest. " Lands intersected by a narrow frith Abhor each other. Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, which had else, Like kindred drops, been mingled into one." k. Not that territorial limits should be abolished, nor that national distinctions or peculiarities are wrong or undesirable. It is doubtless better that nations, like families, should be distinct, and preserve their individuality ; but it is a crime and a sin for one nationality to destroy another. I. Let each preserve and have its own territorial limits, and let the people love their own lands and homes, and feel that they are joint pro- prietors of the earth's surface ; but let not this lead to territorial wars, and conquests, and oppressions; for "the earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof," and men constitute his one family in the one paternal home. THE AFFECTIONS. 185 Class Thikd. Cdltal Affections. Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish State. Attachment to Social and National ■ Slavery to Customs. Customs, ' Nostalgia. Feasts, Holidays, Games, &c. a. It would be impracticable to describe the local, tribal, national, and social customs, relating to birth, baptism, marriage, and death, birthday anniversaries, and weddings, whether wooden, tin, glass, china, silver, or golden, which are to be found among all nations. They have, how- ever, the same characteristics everywhere. b. They have a most powerful control over the popular heart. Some one has said, " Let me write the ballads of a nation, and he who will may write their laws ; " and so, whoever can direct the domestic, social, and national customs of a people will have a powerful control over their whole destiny. c. This cultal affection is stronger than local affection ; for nations carry their cultal customs with them, and reproduce and ' perpetuate them, in strange countries and on distant lands ; and wherever men may be, the customs of their native land are ever dear to them, and ever waken sympathy in their hearts. d. They are remembered longest, and given up last ; even in the land of oppression and bondage, by the third and fourth generations of those who have been torn from their native land, and enslaved beyond the seas, are the customs of the forefathers perpetuated and loved. e. Our youth never forget their May-day', nor children their Christ- mas. A New "England Thanksgiving and a universal New Year's clay will never be forgotten. They will be revived and observed in all gen- erations, and in all parts of the world. f. The effect of native songs on the mind in a foreign land is strik- ingly illustrated by the Israelites in bondage. " By the rivers of Baby- lon, there, we sat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song-, and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying-, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land ? If I forget thee, Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning ; if I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy." g. So the Swiss* soldiers, who are hired in foreign countries, are notorious for their sensibility to their national songs. They who can 24 1S6 AUTOLOGY. brave battle and death for hire, weep and become as children at the sound of a native song in a foreign land. An actual disease of home- sickness often ensues, — which is called " Nostalgia/' — insomuch that such music is prohibited by military discipline. Class Fourth. National Affections.* Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish State. Love of our own Nation, National Pride. Attachment to Governmental My Country, right or Institutions, Celebrations, &c. wrong. a. These affections are little more than a summing up of all the pre- ceding classes. The raceal, local, and cultal affections are the life and body of the national affections. The nation is the full and mature growth of all the elements of the peculiar life within it. b. It is made up of the people and their customs ; the Legislature, the Judiciary and the Executive departments, all forming one whole ; having one flag, one army, one political economy, one commerce, con- stituting one composite, organic, peculiar, and homogeneous political life; one body having many members, yet being one individuality. c. Now, this, our own nation, so made up, claiming its nationality, and manifesting its being at home and abroad, on the high seas, and in all islands, and ports, and at all courts and governments, becomes an object of love and of pride to its citizens. They rejoice in its honor ; they are proud of its power ; they hail its flag ; they feel themselves honored in wearing its name, and protected by its presence and arms all over the earth. d. To the inhabitants of a country its national airs are dear ; its martial music, its triumphal days. They keep its festivals ; they laud its historic deeds; they honor its statesmen, jurists, warriors, scholars, poets, and philosophers. The freedom and laws of their native land, their military power, their army and navy, their commerce and wealth, their schools and intelligence, — all these make up the elements and sum total of that nationality, which becomes an object of affection to the citizens. e. A nation is an individual having proprietorship, possessing all the forces of an independent sovereignty, and, as such, becomes a sort of personality, and is not only loved and cherished by its citizens, but held responsible by them and by other nations for its conduct, as a nation, in the administration of its affairs, and in its intercourse with other nations. /. The nation, which is the object of this love and obligation to its TIIE AFFECTIONS. 187 citizens, and holding- relations to the rest of the world, is the object also of all patriotic affections, in all their forms, raceal, local, cultal, and national. g. To love one's country is -one of the highest virtues ; nor is there any other emotion that will call out so much fervor, so much enthusiasm, so much sacrifice. The last struggle of Kosciusko is thus described : — ■ "Warsaw's last champion from her height surveyed, Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid. ' O Heaven,' he cried, ' my bleeding country save ! Is there no hand on high to shield the brave? Yet though destruction sweep those lovely plains, Eise, fellow-men ! our country yet remains ! By that dread name we wave the sword on high, And swear for her to live, with her to die.' He said — and on the rampart heights arrayed His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly, Kevenge or death — the watch-word and reply ; In vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few ! From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew. Hope for a season bade the world farewell, And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell." h. Poetry, and oratory, and heroism, and history, art, and the drama, have all exhausted themselves in honor of patriotism. It has become the most sensitive and passionate of all the affections. i. When slavery with, tyrannous intent, and with wicked and impious hands, tore down the Nation's flag, fired on the Nation's fort, and struck at the Nation's heart, then rose up, as if moved by one spirit, the whole people, by millions, shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom. " We are springing to the call from the east and from the west, Shouting the battle-cry of Freedom. And we'll hurl the rebel crew from the land we love the best; Shouting the battle-cry of Freedom. The Union forever ! hurrah, boys, hurrah ; Down with the traitor, up with the star, While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, Shouting the battle-cry of Freedom." And they did rush to battle and to death, to rescue the country and to maintain the nation. Men by the hundreds of thousands, and money by the hundreds of millions, were freely given, and the land was saved, the rebellion was crushed, and freedom was established, and sla- very was overthrown. j. All this is a right and healthy exercise of this affection. There is, 188 AUTOLOGY. however, an excess in this sentiment, which finds its expression in these words: "My country, right or wrong." There is a sense in which a parent might defend the child, "right or wrong," and bear and suffer for it ; but even this has its limits. So with patriotism : it is proper to stand for our nation, that it be not extinguished, or unduly humbled, in any event, even whennvrong; yet "my country, right or wrong," is a sentiment which the larger, and, so far forth, truer affection of. philan- thropy will of certainty limit. k. A country may enter on a career of oppression and conquest, wrong in all its spirit and bearing, which not only the philanthropist, but even the true patriot, and that as a matter of patriotism, not less than of philanthropy, will feel bound to discountenance and oppose, 'and none the less for its being his own country which commits the offence. And this leads us to the next order of the determinate affec- tions ; viz., the Philanthropic Affections. ORDER IV. THE PHILANTHROPIC AFFECTIONS. Selfial State. Selfish State. Philanthropic Affections. Commerciality. Class First. Humane Affections. Humane Affections. Unnaturalness, . Inhumanity, Unrelentingness. Class Second. Utile Affections. Utile Affection, Illiberality. Progressiveness, Fossilization. Improvement. These sum up These sum up Philanthropy. Heathenism. a. This order of affections arises naturally out of all the preceding orders, combining in itself all their properties, and flowing over by a new and larger life beyond them all. It has its genesis in the determi- nation of all the elemental affections — desirefulness, trustfulness, hope- fulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness, through the element of cheerfulness. Then, by passing out. through the individual, social, and patriotic orders of determinate affections, partaking of them all, and extending over and beyond them with a vitality and quantity THE AFFECTIONS. 189 of their own, these affections form a new order by themselves, and sub- divide themselves into different classes and manifestations. b. This order, like each of the preceding ones, stands over against an elemental affection, as its basis or correlative. Cheerfulness is a calm and satisfied state of soul, into which desire, and trust, and hope, combining, settle, and in which the heart is disposed to look out upon humanity at large, and as a whole, beyond the limits of individuality, society, and country, and feel brotherhood and sympathy with all mankind.' In this way is cheerfulness, coming as it does after desire, trust, and hope, the basis, or fountain, or correlative of the philan- thropic affections. c. This order comes after the orders of elemental and determinate affections, already given, and is developed from them. Thus the indi- vidual,, social, patriotic, and philanthropic affections spring respectively from the elemental affections, desire, trust, hope, and cheerfulness, and are correlatives to them. d. The genesis of each successive order .of determinate affections is always after the same method, and by the combination of all the preced- ing orders of the determinate affections with a determination of the ele- mental affections, through the next succeeding element, in each case respectively ; e. g., as the patriotic order of affections arose out of the combination of all the preceding orders with the elemental affections determined through hope, so the philanthropic affections are formed by a combination of all the preceding orders with the elemental affections determined through cheerfulness, which is the next succeeding element ; and so on with the succeeding orders. e. Philanthropy comes next in order above patriotism, and is the re- buke and the barrier to that false and wicked perversion of patriotism expressed in the sentiment, " My country, right or wrong." ' The claims of the individual are limited by society, and those of society by the country, and of the country by the world. /. Philanthropy thus rises above the country, and embraces the whole world. It is an expansion of all the preceding affections into the largest sphere which the world affords ; it is a love of mankind, a general affection for humanity, that feeling wliich would lead to anj T act of. kindness or good will to our fellow-men. This is the highest provis- ion that nature makes for insuring the fulfilment of the command, " Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." g. The natural feelings of marital, paternal, filial, fraternal, amical, and patriotic affection, are here expanded into a universal philanthropy or humanity. It is not the moral virtue of Christian benevolence of which we are here speaking, but merely and altogether a constitutional feeling, which has its basis in our social nature, and would, were we 190 AUTOLOGY. not fallen, lead us to love all men as we love our immediate kin- dred.' h. Here is the distinction between this natural affection of philan- thropy and the moral virtue of benevolence : while a true, Christian benevolence would lead us to regard the well-being of men in its broad- est sense as it relates to God as well as to each other, recognizing man's lost estate, and the retribution of eternity, and seeks by the gos- pel of Jesus Christ to save men from the one, and to qualify them to meet the other, mere philanthropy seeks human well-being only accord- ing to the laws of kindred affection and human foresight, simply ex- panding the family feeling, paying no regard to right and wrong, as such, or to God's law, as such, or to eternity, but prudently balancing profit and loss, pleasure and pain, success and misfortune,, in this life. i. It seeks to find nothing more than the greatest happiness of the greatest number, and makes that the rule of action and the stimulant of character. Philanthropy is the highest and most expansive order of natural affections. It seeks the most extended and enduring happiness for men in this world, but does not seek their moral excellence, as such. It is not, therefore, a moral virtue, but merely a natural affection. j. The vice of this order of affections is that of indulgence, and the putting of merely social feeling for mora] character. They have an appointed office in our mental economy, and are morally right when chosen by the will in obedience to the law of the conscience ; and they become sinful when they are allowed to supersede the right, or substi- tute utility for rectitude, or when they lead us to worship and serve the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed forever. k. *The philanthropic affections are divided into two classes ; viz., Humane and Utile, as follows : — Class First. Humane Affections. First Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Pity for the Suffering, the Sick, , Brutality, 'and the Afflicted. Second Manifestation. Help for the Needy. Stinginess. Third Manifestation. Kindness to the Undeserving. Shutting up the Heart, Harsh Condemnation, Callousness. THE AFFECTIONS. 191 Fourth Manifestation. Selfial Slate. _ Selfish Slate. Forbearance for the Erring, Summary Punishment. Fifth Manifestation. Charity for all. Censoriousness, Oppressiveness, License, Starving of Parents, Infanticide. These sum up These sum up Humanity. Barbarism. We now take up separately these various manifestations : — First Manifestation. Pity for the Suffering. Brutality. a. These successive manifestations of the humane affections seem scarcely to need discussion ; yet they mark the widest differences of human character, and the most distinct forms of society and of civiliza- tion. b. Pity for the suffering is indeed found among- the rudest people, but' it often extends no farther than the nearest relative. The sick and in- firm are abandoned to their fate ; old age and infancy meet a common doom in a common bimtality. It is true that pity for suffering is of necessity modified in its manifestation by the ability to relieve it, and that they who are humane under some circumstances are given up to selfishness under others. c. Much that is pity in appearance is in fact only selfishness seeking relief, and much that is brutal in form may be in truth only inability to relieve the wants of others ; yet pity for the suffering is ever a mark of •£n upward tendency in humanity. d. It is often the case that those whose moral development is low, whose lives are in other respects selfish and immoral, will have much pity for those in distress, and will do much, and suffer much, to relieve them. Vicious and improvident men, sailors and wanderer^, who have fallen sick and become destitute in foreign lands, tell us of kindness, 192 AUTOLOGY. hospitality, nursing, care, and of long, patient, expensive, and tender relief, afforded them by the poor and lowly, and even by abandoned women, upon whose hands they have been thrown in their extremity as strangers — relief given unasked, and with no demanding or expectation of pay. e. It is both a joy and a grief to see humanity thus assert itself as imperishable in the human heart ; a grief that it should fall so low, while yet it is a joy that it can do a deed so high. On the other hand it is a pain relieved by no joy to see that amidst plenty, and ease, and splendor, humanity may die out of even woman's heart, and only a greedy selfishness reign there, and that continually. /. Pity for the suffering is surely never a sin, unless it prevents the needful and just punishment of crime which is essential to safety and reformation, or encourages the .vice that brings on misery. Yet it is not necessarily a moral virtue. Mere natural pity is humane and good ; its opposite is inhuman and wrong ; yet to have pity when it is not mere sympathy, but when it is also duty, and to show it from regard to God, and virtue, and the good of humanity, — this is also a moral virtue. g. This affection may be found in excess or in deficiency, and in either case is wrong and selfish. Undue pity for the guilty who suffer the penalty of their sin, or rather such relief of them as ignores their sin and all moral differences, is as selfish, and wrong, and as barbarous as the hardness of heart that abandons the suffering to perish. Thus there may be a pity that is pitiless, as there may be a mercilessness that is merciful. Second Manifestation. Selfial Stale. Selfish State. Help for the Needy. Stinginess. a. The second manifestation is help for the needy, standing opposed to stinginess. Faith without works is dead. " What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works ? Can faith save him ? If a brother or a sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be you warmed and filled, notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body, what doth it profit ? Even so faith, if it have not works, is dead, being alone." . ■ b. The disposition to afford relief and to put kindness into bread, and sympathy into shelter, and good will into clothes, and love into medi- cine, and all into personal care and watching, — this is help for the THE AFFECTIONS. 193 needy. It embodies itself in personal gifts, attentions, and labors, and in all forms of benevolent societies and institutions, poorhouses, hospi- tals, infirmaries, asylums, workhouses, ragged schools, reform schools, children's homes, homes for the destitute, homes for the outcast, and all kinds of charitable ministrations. These are the embodiments of this affection, which shows itself in help for the needy. c. It is often a pure Christian virtue; yet as often such institutions are founded and fed by the money of merely humane men, and perhaps for the sake of the honor and distinction which it brings ; and this is well as a good work and a relief to the needy, though not a true virtue; the liabilities of these institutions to become a vice are only such as attend all human things. That men who neither fear' God nor regard man will often give for the help of the needy, as a mode of buying off their sins, oppressions, overreachings, and extortions, is doubtless true. There is, indeed,- much of this. d. Some there are also who seem to make the running of benevolent causes a kind of trade, and the source of a livelihood, of fame, and of promotion ; but all these things condemn themselves : the good thus done, the help to the needy thus actually received by them, is a real good ; while of the unworthy and selfish contributor, either of work or money, Christ will say, as of those who pray to be heard of men, "Verily they have their reward." The excesses and deficiencies of this affection are apparent. Third Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Kindness to the Unde- Shutting up the Heart with serving. h^rsh condemnation, Callousness. a. The thir.d manifestation is kindness to the undeserving. This is mercy when shown by the Father in heaven, or when he is imitated in it by the good on earth. There may be a lenience to worthlessness which encourages it ; this is sin. b. But the kindness which consists in a faith so acted, and a hope so expressed, and an opportunity and the means so afforded to the guilty and the undeserving that they may reform and reclaim themselves, — this is right and worthy, and can hardly be less than a Christian virtue. c. This, indeed, is Christ-like ; this is precisely what Christ did when he came into the world to save sinners ; and he is following Christ who does this thing, and affords this kindness to the undeserving. This is loving our enemies, and blessing them that curse, and doing good unto them who are despiteful, and who persecute us. d. All kindness unto the undeserving must be so exhibited as not to 25 194 AUTOLOGY. wink at sin, or show any complicity with it ; else is it a vice, and not a virtue. Thus did Christ. He was kind and merciful to sinners, but in no such way as to show complicity with sin. e. This disposition has its excess and its deficiency. The excess is when it is license to sin. The deficiency is when it is a shutting up of the heart with harsh condemnations, and a rendering 1 of it callous and hard, and when it prevents and prohibits all chance of repentance or reformation to the sinning, making no difference between the repent- ant and the incorrigible. Fourth Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Forbearance for the Erring. Summary Punishment. a. The fourth manifestation of this affection here given is forbear- ance for the erring. This, like the preceding, may be merely a natural affection, or it may be a Christian virtue, and in either case leads to virtue. To bear with those who err is to favor their reformation, unless we connive at their sin. The disposition to summary punishment is sel- dom right, often injurious, and often wrong. b. God is forbearing and kind to the unthankful. Sometimes this lenience, though kind on the part of Heaven, results only in the deeper sin and more dreadful condemnation of the guilty. This disposition has the same characteristics and limitations as the preceding, and is right or wrong, good or bad, under the same circumstances as are they. Fifth Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Charity for all. Censoriousness, Oppressiveness, License, Starving of Parents, Infanticide. a. The fifth manifestation of the human affections is here denominated charity for all ; and by charity is here meant that pure love and good will of which the apostle speaks under this name when he says, " Char- ity suffereth long and is kind, charity envieth not, charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in ini- quity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth." b. Now, this good will is a Christian virtue in its highest estate. In its merely natural estate, and as a mere natural affection, such as a large-minded man might feel., and a liberal and generous nature might THE AFFECTIONS. 195 exercise, even though a pagan, it is still noble, useful, and good, like the vital air. c. As a Christian virtue, it is the highest state of the soul ; and the difference between it as a natural affection and a Christian virtue, is precisely this : that as a Christian virtue it is a positive duty, under the control of justice, mercy, and of faith ; while as a natural affection it is only the flowing stream of good-nature that does not contemplate right and wrong, the salvation or loss of the soul, duty to God, or re- nunciation of sin. d. The opposites of charity, either as excess or deficiency, are ob- vious, the former being mere licentiousness, and the latter oppressive- ness. They both lead to the same sin, and the same ruin of souls. This class of humane affections sums up on the selfial side as pure phi- lanthropy, with all eleemosynary institutions, and on the selfish side as barbarism. ORDER IV. PHILANTHROPIC AFFECTIONS. Class Second. Utile Affections. a. The second class of philanthropic affections is the Utile Affections. Their office is to give us an interest and pleasure in that which is useful. They afford the emotion of gratified sensibility in whatsoever is adapted to promote the advantage and happiness of the world. Under the name Utile Affections we designate that natural love of happiness known as the "chief good/' or the "highest utility," or the principle of "the greatest good of the greatest number." b. It must be observed, however, that we are here speaking, not of the idea or the law of the highest utility or happiness, as an end or rule of life, but simply of that sensibility which makes us capable of taking an interest in that idea and law ; not of a principle or rule of action, but of a natural affection, as a faculty and a capability of the mind. c. That man should desire happiness is certainly as right as it is natural. Says the apostle, " No man ever yet hated his own flesh." That we should love our pleasure, and pursue it, is, indeed, a first law of nature. Self-love is not in itself sinful. d. The highest utility should be sought. Utility is selfial, and not sel- fish ; it belongs to the self, and is no more wrong than the self is. It is the greatest good, and is no more wrong than a good estate is wrong when compared with a poor one ; therefore the highest utility should be sought. To be happy is our first desire. Says Pope, — " Happiness ! our being's end and aim, Good, pleasure, ease, content, whate'er thy name, That something still which prompts the eternal sigh, For which we bear to live or dare to die." 196 AUTOLOGY. e. But happiness is not excellence of any sort, physical, intellectual, social, or moral ; it is simply a pleasurable state of our susceptibilities ; no matter whether it be for a longer or shorter time, or whether it be the condition of the whole or a part of our fellow beings : the thing is the same ; it is simply happiness ; and that not always to be preferred. /. And now the question is, not whether happiness is good or bad, but ' whether it ought to be made the end of being, or whether we should have a higher end of being. It certainly is nobler to be virtuous than to be happy. If so, manifestly happiness should not be the chief end of pursuit. g. Nor is the point here whether the useful and the right may not har- monize, but which should be made the rule and the test of the other. Certainly we should not act for the bare sake of happiness ; for in -that case, if that which was wrong could make us happy, we should pursue the wrong. h. On the contrary we ought to do right whether it makes us happy or not ; nay, even if it should make us suffer, still we should always do right. It is, however, true that the right will ultimately make us happy if we pursue it; but it is because the right makes us happy in its own righteous action, and.,not that it throws down the right and goes over to the happy. The right, and not the happy, therefore, ought always to be the end for which we should live. i. Happiness is an incident, an invariable ultimate result of doing right, or of a course of right action, when it is consummated. It is not conceivable that a course of right action should result in misery in the end, though it may require much sacrifice and pain by the way ; yet never should happiness be the end sought. j. Utility, or the greatest happiness of the greatest number, is the end sought by all mere moralists, political economists, and statesmen ; but action on this principle soon shows it to be both wrong and impractica- ble, and that it ends in atheism. k. For to seek simply the happiness of even the greatest number for the greatest length of time, is either to take man's capabilities of hap- piness just as they are, and gauge their average gratification, or it is to improve them only for the sake of rendering them more capable of enjoy- ment ; and in either case the, principle is the same ; improvement is not the thing sought, but it is happiness ; all is for the sake of happiness. I. Utilitarianism does not seek the right as an end, nor improvement as an end, nor excellence as an end, but ever happiness. All else is a means, and if the right is sought, it is not because it is right, but because it is a means of happiness. m. If the wrong were a more efficient means of happiness than the THE AFFECTIONS. 197 right, then it would, on the utilitarian principle, be chosen before the right. The greatest-happiness principle does not seek to make men righteous, but happy ; or, if righteous, only because '• honesty is the best policy." n. In this way it becomes simply a selfish principle, and that form of self-love which is sin, as it seeks its end of happiness regardless of the right, as such ; and in those cases in which it seeks happiness in accord- ance with the right, it does so only because' the right is more advan- tageous, and not because it is right. o. The sin consists in a willingness and an intent to seek happiness .as an end, even if it were wrong ; indeed, it does not regard the right at all, but merges it in the advantageous, and the profitable, and the happy. The utilitarian or greatest-happiness principle is, then, when thus used, an utter and flat denial of the right, an assuming that it does not exist, and is therefore utterly selfish, unjustifiable, and wrong. p. And, finally, it is impracticable ; for no human mind can take so extended a view of things as to tell what will secure the greatest happiness of the greatest number for the greatest length of time. Util- itarianism, then, assumes to do what nothing but the Infinite Mind can do. q. It first denies that there is such a thing as right and wrong as a rule of duty, or as a distinction of character, or of action, by ignor- ing all difference between them, when it believes the one will produce happiness as well as the other. r. And, secondly, it assumes the place and the prerogative of God in determining the rule and the means of human happiness, by claim- ing to be able to see the end from the beginning, which none but God can do ; or if it should obey God's commandments at all, it would do it, not because they were right, or because of His authority, but simply because it believed it for its own happiness to do so. s. Thus is utilitarianism utterly, and from principle and heart atheis- tical ; but self-love, or love of happiness, is in its nature negative ; right when pursued in subordination to moral principles, and wrong when made the end of action, irrespective of the right. t When, therefore, Pope says, — " Self-love's the spring of motion, acts the soul, Inactive else, or active to no end," — he announces what is true of human beings as a fact of nature, but what is nevertheless utterly false as a moral philosophy, and a real atheism in principle and effect. u. The right is the only right end of action to rational and account- able beings. Self-love is only blind impulse, aimless but as self-love. The reason and the conscience enlightened by God's truth must control it, 198 AUTOLOGY. and constrain it to flow into the channel of the ethically right ; but self- love must not force the right into the service of utility. v. We come now to take up the several manifestations of the utile affections. They are the second class of the philanthropic affections, and are themselves divided into, three principal manifestations, which man- ifestations have again their subordinate modifications, according to their respective objects and applications as they diversify and adapt them- selves, covering the whole ground of utility. They appear in the following Manifestations. I. Home Conveniences. II. Social Proprieties. III. Public Spirit. These affections, with their various manifestations, cover the whole ground of what is known as civilization, as opposed to savage life, and include all those inventions, utensils, customs, amenities, arts, improve- ments, and proprieties which make up the condition and life of an enlightened community. x. The first manifestation is that of home conveniences, which are seen under the modifications, first, of dwelling-houses instead of huts and tents, wigwams, and holes and dens in the earth. It may be well here to place the schedule in full before us, that its contrast may be viewed at a glance ; and as it may be asked in what sense the terms "selfial " and "selfish" are to be applied to these manifestations, the answer is, in the same sense as in any other case, for there is a sense in which defect is sin, ignorance is vice, and uncivilization is crime. No man, nor a race of men, have a right to cultivate barbarism, nor even to live continuously in it : excess of civilization is dissipation and effeminacy. y. These manifestations have their uses and abuses, their selfial and selfish states, as follows : — First Manifestation. Home Conveniences. Selfial State. Selfish State. Home Conveniences. Savagery. This manifestation appears in four modifications. First Modification. Dwelling-houses, Huts, Wigwams, Tools for Mechanical Purposes, Dens, Caves, Husbandry, Holes in the Earth. Stone Axes, Shell Knives. THE AFFECTIONS. 199 Second Modification. Selfial State. Selfish State. ■ Household Furniture, Mats, Skins, Bones. Articles for Sitting and Sleeping, Sticks, Sharp Stones. Utensils for Cooking and Eating. Troughs, Bark Dishes. Third Modification. Materials for Food, as The Exclusive Use of Raw Tame Meats, Kine, Sheep, Meats, G-ame, Fish, Roots, Fowls, Grains, Vegetables. Nuts, Wild Fruits. Fourth Modification. Fabrics for Clothing, from Garments of Skins, Wool, Cotton, Linen, Silk. of Bark, Leaves, Grass, Plants. These manifestations and their modified forms may suffice to point out the nature and province of these affections. They most clearly mark the work and progress of civilization, and the degree of man's elevation above brute and savage life. Plainly, if man is not civilized, the brute has the advantage of him in his personal and domestic condition. Man needs his intelligence, his industry, and his skill to raise him to his true position. A state of nature is the "cattle state," and belongs exclu- sively to the brutes, who are prepared to make it both comfortable and decent, and even dignified ; but human beings cannot remain in it with- out degradation and sin. The excellence of humanity is shown in care for the personal .comfort, cleanliness, privacy, and defence of the body, and all those helps and conveniences that relieve the body from its exposures and disabilities. Hence civilization, with its arts, and skill, and comforts, is the normal, and not the artificial, state of man. First Modification. a. The first evidences by which humanity proves itself and demon- strates its superiority appear when man erects dwelling-houses for his own shelter, comfort, and dignity, and supplies himself by his own invention with tools for making fabrics and for cultivating the soil. b. Here man begins to assert himself, and to ascend the scale of his own superior life. He leaves the den, the cave, and the hole to beasts and reptiles, and the hut and the wigwam to the savage, and erects himself a house to live in, and is by so much the more a man and a rational soul. 200 AUTOLOGY. c. And while he rises thus from the deficiency of the brute and the savage in this matter, he sometimes also runs to the opposite extreme of extravagance and luxury in the dimensions, and style, and ornamenta- tions of his house. Second Modification. a. Next to the dwelling-house and the implements for husbandry and mechanics, we may find, as a second modification, household furniture, as articles for sitting and sleeping, and utensils for eating and cooking. 6. These are the means and the evidences of a rising civilization and refinement ; by these man both helps and respects himself. He lays off the habits of the brute and the savage — of using his fingers as claws, and his teeth as tusks. c. He ceases to sit on the ground with only mats or skins under him ; no more employs sharp stones, bones, and sticks for tools, or bark vessels or wooden troughs for dishes, but affords himself the comforts of civilized upholstery and cutlery, and thereby raises himself above the beast and the savage. Third Modification. The third modification of these affections we see in the materials used for food. The civilized man provides himself with tame meats from the field or stall, such as cattle, swine, sheep, and fowls. He uses grains and vegetables of his own cultivation, finding raw meat, wild game, fish, roots, and wild fruits insufficient for his use, and leaving them chiefly to the savage. Fourth Modification. a. Lastly, under this manifestation of the utile affections in the dis- position to home conveniences, we have the fabrics for clothing. The civilized man is distinguished by the amount and the material of his clothing. While the savage goes naked, or wears rude fabrics of skins or of barks, the civilized man, as both a means and an evidence of his ' progress and elevation, makes his apparel of wool, linen, cotton, silk, dressed furs, and his shoes of tanned leather, and constructs them all for comfort and decency, and wears them with taste as to style and adap- tation. b. . Now, the strong disposition of men to these things, as seen in the above selfial forms, is what we call the due manifestation of the utile affections. c. It can hardly be needful here to point out the deficiencies and ex- cesses of these affections. They stand marked by a degrading savagery on the one hand, and a dissipating effeminacy on the other — extremes that meet in the same selfishness and the same sin. THE AFFECTIONS. 201 We pass to the second manifestation of the utile affections, viz., a disposition to social proprieties, with its modifications, as follows : — Second Manifestation — Social Proprieties. Selfial Slate. Social Proprieties. Selfish State. Savage and brute Habits. These are seen in the two following modifications : — First Modification — Household Regulations. Selfial State. Manner of Eating, Mode of Sitting, Time of Eating, Regular Meals, The Quantity and Style of Dress, Apartments and Furniture for Sleeping, Beds, Bedding, Separate Rooms for Cooking, Eating, Society, and Sleeping, and for each Member of the Household. Selfish State. Feeding in Common out of the same Dish, Sitting on Mats and Skins, Sleeping in the Apparel of the Day, and all in the same Room. Second Modification — Social Intercourse. Family, Weddings, Visits, Parties, Funerals, Etiquette, Taste, Refinement in Manners, Amusements and Conversation. Modes of Worship. These sum up Breeding. Herding together, Punctilious Ceremony, Fashion. These sum up Boorishness or Foppery. These modes of the social proprieties, as here given,, betoken the upward progress of humanity. They are the fixtures of domestic com- fort and of social intercourse not only, but the necessary means of all order in human relations, all elevation in taste, refinement in manners, and purity in morals. First Modification — Household Regulations. a. Household regulations constitute the partitions and separations in the family relations which are essential to personal privacy, and are the shield of that delicacy which is at once the seed and the fruit, the parent 26 202 AUTOLOGY. and the child of all innocence and purity, affection and respect, amongst the members of a family, or the people of a community. b. The modes and forms, regulations and restraints, the observance of mutual rights and conveniences, are each and all essential to civilization, and indispensable to true Christianity. For charity is religion, and the apostle says, " Charity doth not behave itself unseemly," and without the social proprieties as they appear in household regulations, and in social intercourse, there will be much that is "unseemly;" and hence the disposition to exactness in these things is both right and a duty. c. The propriety and order in rising and retiring ; regularity of meals ; due moderation, self-control, delicacy and cleanliness in partaking of food ; a becoming position in sitting ; neatness, taste, and method in dress, and in the apartment and furniture of the dormitory, are deci- dedly civilized and almost Christian modes of living, The reverse of them is brutish and savage, and a sin of the lowest selfishness against humanity. Second Modification — Social Intercourse. a. The amenities of social intercourse are likewise almost Christian virtues. The delicacy that purifies and defends the intimacy of the family relations, the restraints that chasten social intercourse, the eti- quette that checks and reins deportment and bearing in mixed compa- nies, selects the subjects of conversation, guides the taste in regard to toilet, amusements, the customs of society, the arrangement of wed- dings, the order of funerals, and the manner of visits, — all these are based on certain dispositions to that which is proper, useful, and good in its tendency, and are the stays and supports of all social cultivation and life. b. The disposition to promote these things is more than good ; it is benevolent, useful, and morally right. On its cultivation, more than on anything else, depend the intelligence, refinement, morality, and civili- zation, if not the religion itself, of the community. These dispositions, in their right state, are of great value. In their wrong, their defective or excessive state, they are extremely pernicious. c. Fashion is the disease of civilization, as brutishness is that of savagery ; but nothing is more philanthropic than the cultivation of the utile affections, and the promotion of those things to which they dispose us ; and surely home conveniences and social proprieties stand as the first evidences of our Christian civilization. Third Manifestation — Public Spirit. Selfial State. Selfish State. Public Spirit. Self-greediness. THE AFFECTIONS. 203 a. The last manifestation of the utile affections is seen in Public Spirit. This is a broader manifestation of the dispositions just con- sidered, and is found'in both a selfial and a selfish state. 1 b. It refers to things strictly useful, and also to things that are merely convenient or preferable in appearance, as the construction and the style of mechanical instruments, of dwelling-houses, of public buildings, carriages, the improvement of cattle and horses, the ornamenting of roads, parks, streets, and gardens. The useful affections here go out in some degree after the tasteful and the showy ; they seek that which is good in style, while it is good for use, and prefer it on account of its style. c. Some men have both a talent and a passion for public improve- ments, and take a lively interest in all public affairs. They make the building up and ornamentation of a town, village, or city, a matter of personal interest, and enjoy the occupation of a conspicuous position, and find a pleasure in general progress and improvement. d. Such men are justly called public benefactors, philanthropists, and reformers. They are full of liberal plans and enthusiatic projects, and create the life and impel the progress of the community. They are not rich usually, save in faith in human perfectibility, and in the suc- cess and advantage of their schemes for improvements. They do not often add much to the treasury, though often much to public progress in the arts, comforts, and elegances of an enlightened civilization. e. Indeed, when we come to enumerate the different modifications of this manifestation of the philanthropic affections, we shall find that they reach almost all human interests, and that the highest and dearest rights of men are thus kept and guaranteed by this, the public spirit and vigilance of good citizens in the exercise of their philanthropic affections. /. Only the best men rise out of themselves, and become truly public spirited, and feel that the community and the individual have identical interests. It is the best men who feel that the individual, the family, the community, and the state have but one interest, and who labor for the promotion of that interest. All this will appear when we come to see the high character of the manifestations of these affections. g. This manifestation shows itself in the following particulars, or modifications : — First Modification. Selfial State. Selfish State. Established Government, Lawless Irregularity. Legislative, Judicial, Executive. Nomadic State. 204 AUTOLOGY. Second Modification. Selfial Stale. Selfish State. Equal Laws to Races, Party and Class Legislation. Citizens, Husbands, Wives, Women, Children. Third Modification. Strict and Impartial Judiciary. The Injured Revenges Himself, Legal Awards and Penalties Retaliation, Trial by Battle, decided by judge and jury, assault, assassination, and executed by legal officers. manslaughter, murder. Fourth Modification. Just and Legal Administration Partisan and Sectional Measures of Government. and Policy. Fifth Modification. Educational Institutions. Common, High, and Normal Schools, Colleges and Professional Schools, Schools for Deaf and Dumb, Blind, Idiotics. > Private and Privileged Education for the Wealthy. Free Printing, Free Discussion. Sixth Modification. Censorship of the Press and Personal Espionage. Seventh Modification. Religious Toleration, Free State Church. Exercise of Private Opinion, Proscription. Fellowship of Different Creeds and Sects. Bigotry. Persecution. Eighth Modification. Free Competition in Business, Monopoly. Trade, Manufactures, Patronage. Professional Practice, Social Caste. Political Positions, and all Pursuits. THE AFFECTIONS. 205 Ninth Modification. Selfial State. Public Reforms in Social Customs, Modes of Business, and Education, Temperance, Slavery, Prison-discipline, Labor, in Constitutional Rights and Legal Enactments. Selfish State. Organic Vices. Corrupt Customs. Constitutional Limitations. Unjust Laws. Tenth Modification. Intelligent Agriculture. Disregard of Kind or Quality in Soil, Seeds, Climate, Cattle, and Fruits. Eleventh Modification. Skilful Machinery and Tools, Mechanical and Agricultural Implements, Water Mills, Steam Mills, Factories, Engines, Turning Lathes, Power Looms, Power Printing Presses, Hydraulic Presses, Planters, Reapers, &c. Rude Tools of Wood and Stone, Hand Mills, Spinning Wheels, Wooden Carts, Wooden Ploughs, Wooden Hoes, Wooden Shovels, Knives, &c. Twelfth Modification. Useful, Elegant, and Ornamental Manufactures, of Woods, Metals, Precious Stones, Cloth, Paper, and Compositions. Home-made and Rough Fabrics for both Use and Ornament. Thirteenth Modification. Development of all Natural Resources, of Mines, Soils, Fruits, Grains, Vegetables, and Animals. Roaming over Nature in her Wild Estate, Living on the Wild Products of the Earth. 206 AUTOLOGY. Fourteenth Modification. Selfial. State. Modes of Travel and Transportation, Public Roads, Turnpikes, Ferries and Bridges, Wagons, Sleighs, Stage-coaches, Canals, Railroads, Boats, Cars, Sail-ships, Steamboats, Express Companies. Selfish State. Foot Travel, Saddle-horse, Pack-mule, Camel, Elephant, Reindeer, Dogs, Sledges, Caravans, Pack-pedler. Fifteenth Modification. Facilities for Carrying News, Governmental System of Mail-routes, Posts and Relays of Horses and Men, Mail-stages, Mail-ships, Mail-trains of Cars, Telegraphs. Personal Messengers, 'Heralds, Nuncios, Despatch-bearers, Foot-runners, Post-riders, Carrier-pigeons, Signals. Sixteenth Modification. National Protection and Defence; The ''Science, Art, Instruments, Weapons, and Engines, Modes, Munitions, and Mitigations of Civilized Warfare. Single Combat. Rapine, Plunder, Fire and Sword, Clubs, Spears, Pikes, Arrows, Axes, and Knives of Savage Warfare. Seventeenth Modification. International Tribunals, Arbitration by Chosen Men of Different Nations. Diplomacy. Reprisals, Privateering. Piracy, War. Eighteenth Modification. Moral and Religious Enterprises, Christian Missions (Home and Foreign); Colonization of States, as in Liberia (Africa), and American Territories. Self-seeking, Covetous and Ambitious Pursuits, Strifes of Trade and Speculation, Scramble for Money. THE AFFECTIONS. 207 Nineteenth Modification. Selfial -State. Selfish State. Human Brotherhood. World's Christian Alliance. World's Peace Congress. World's Industrial Exposition. World's Educational Convention. These sum up a These sum up a Civilized State. Half-Civilized and Barba- rous State. a. It is not claimed that the foregoing schedule is complete or exhaus- tive, nor is it needful that it should be so, nor do we deem it needful in this place to discuss these modifications at length. The outline of the manifestations here given is sufficient to show their field and scope, and that in all things their selfial range is lofty and pure. They have their excesses and their opposites, or deficiencies. We have noted in the above schedule chiefly the opposites, seldom the excesses of these affections. b. They apply, as we have stated, to public order, law, justice, reforms, education, free printing, religions toleration, free discussion, free competition, agriculture, machinery, implements, manufactures ; the de- velopment of mines, soils, fruits, streams, animals, to their highest improved state ; to all moral and religious progress and enterprise ; and lastly, to the internal improvements of all these natural resources of the country. c. And surely the disposition to be active, and to feel interest in all these things, is high and worthy, and the opposite, or the absence of this disposition, would be a great and pernicious defect. The excesses of public spirit are hardly worth pointing out. They appear sometimes in extravagant schemes and reckless speculations, which involve indi- viduals and communities in great embarrassment. d. Yet the difference between an enterprising and courageous man and an inert and timid one, is "apparent, and the difference between an enterprising and public-spirited town and a slow and dull one is also well known. The men of public spirit are the life of the world, the soul of all improvement. e. Among them are navigators and inventors, travellers and builders, public carriers and merchants, engineers and miners, missionaries and reformers. These build highways, lines of ships, railroads, and canals, schools, colleges, and churches, and keep the invention and the money, the talent and the energy, of the people at work, and secure the improve- ment and progress of the world in all forms of human well-being. 208 AUTOLOGY. ORDER V. ^STHETICAL AFFECTIONS. By the sesthetical affections are meant those impulses to playful imi- tation which produce development, education, and recreation ; and those aspirings after ideal models and creations which yearn for a higher order and a purer quality of being and life ; and also that delight in sportive depreciation, which gives amusement, both by the play of wit and the deformity of its object. These affections are divided into three Class First. Playful Imitativeness, or a disposition to the playful imitation of any object or event. Class Second. Ideal Creativeness, or a disposition to a creative idealization of any object or event. Class Third. Depreciative Sportiveness, or a disposition to a sportive depreciation of any object or event. a. Playful imitativeness is the disposition to bodily and mental devel- opment, education, and recreation. It regards nature's pupilage. b. Ideal creativeness is the affection that yearns after nature's trans- figuration into a diviner life. c. Depreciative sportiveness is the mind's holiday, in which it dis- ports itself with all things, real and ideal, from earth to heaven, accord- ing to its own wayward will. d. It is not, however, of the intellectual power, but the affectional susceptibility to sesthetical truths, of which we here speak. The nature of sesthetical truth, the faculties for knowing it, and the different forms and the various departments of the subject matter of aesthetics, will all come up under the Intellect, in Part III. e. The reason, when it acts as the theorizing and the form-making faculty, is dependent for all the interest which the mind takes in these operations and productions, and for all the impulse to them, and all the appreciation of them, upon the affections which correspond to them ; and it is of these affections, these impulses, and susceptibilities to all sesthetical productions and operations, of which we now speak. f. The order of the sesthetical affections arises out of the elemental affec- tion of aspiringness, and out of the preceding orders of determinate affec- tions, as follows : The elemental affections of desirefulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness, all determine themselves in this case through the element of aspiringness, and taking their characteristic from it, they flow out through all the orders of deter- THE AFFECTIONS. 209 minate affections which have already been formed, — the individual, social, patriotic, and philanthropic, — and partake of the life and nature of each ; and then pass over and beyond them, and form a distinct order for them- selves, whose chief characterizing property is aspiringness, from which they are derived, and out of which, as a fountain, they flow. g. But as this quality alone wOuld be insufficient to form this class, it combines with it, as do the other orders, all the elemental affections, and all the orders of determinate affections which precede it, and subduing them all to its own characteristic, it constitutes with them its own order, which, thus enlarged and developed, we call eesthetical affections. h. Some of the properties of this order of affections appear, of course, in the preceding orders, as animal playfulness, and the desire for knowl- edge and mastery, in the individual affections ; showing that they have their roots deep down in the primal elements, and the lowest orders of our animal and mental natures, while their tall trunks and vast, arching branches seem to sustain the dome of the heavens themselves, and to blossom out in the myriad stars of its glorious firmament. i. The assthetical affections, as we have seen, divide themselves into three classes, according to their source and office. The first imitates for the sake of development, education, and recreation. The second idealizes for the sake of perfecting and beautifying. The third depre- ciates for the sake of the play of wit, and the sport of the ludicrous. The first is animal and mental ; the second is rational and imaginative ; the third is intellectual and t fanciful ; as follows : — jesthetical affections. * Class First. Selfial Slate. Selfish State. Playful Imitativeness. Wanton Trifling and Dissipation. Class Second. Ideal Creativeness.. Phantasms, Extravaganzas, Monstrosities. Class Third. Depreciative Sportiveness. Censoriousness, Cynicalness. These sum up These sum up The Highest Culture. Modishness, Dilettanteism, and Misanthropy. 27 210 AUTOLOGY. a. These classes have each their various manifestations, and these, again, their several modifications under them, of all of which we shall speak iu due time. Meanwhile the office of these affections varies according to the different stages and conditions of human life. b. To the young their office is development, education, and recrea- tion. To manhood, in its strength and freshness, it is theorizing, ideal- ization, and perfecting. To weariness and age it is amusement and rejuvenation. In all it is a superabundance of vital force and activity which nature has provided for beneficent ends. c. In this case, as in others, God has not left important ends of life to mere prudence or duty. He has secured them by the spontaneous action of an affection, which waits not for argument or motive, but in its own nature and joyance gushes forth in the accomplishment of a great design of the Creator. Developing, educating, theorizing, idealizing, perfecting, rejuvenating, and amusing, these are the objects to be accomplished by the sesthetical affections ; and they have a work to do all along the course of human life, from infancy to age. d. Blessed be the gift of the iEsthetical affections ! They are the growth of our childhood, the elasticity of our youth, the ideal of our manhood, the solace of our age. They develop us, perfect us, recreate us, and amuse us. They make us "in action, how like an angel; in apprehension, how like a god ; '■' lift up our mortal and work-a-day life on ideal wings to an ethereal atmosphere. They make us feel that "it is not the whole of life to live, nor all of death to die," and that even in this world "there is a life above" the bare and cold realities of being. Taking up, then, the first class of assthetical affections, we find them, with their various manifestations, as follows : — ■ Class First. Playful Imitativeness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Playful Imitativeness. Wanton Trifling and Dissipation. This class manifests itself in three forms : — First Manifestation. Animal and Mental Wanton Frolic. D EVELOPMENT. Second Manifestation. Animal and Mental Experimenting to the Education. Damage of others. THE AFFECTIONS. 211 Third Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Animal and Mental Recreation. Hurtful and Vicious Amusements. a. The disposition to animal and mental imitation and playfulness appears in the earliest life of children and animals, as the principle of growth and development. Playfulness is imitation, and imitation is play. In the young, play always imitates something. The young kit- tens play in instinctive imitation of the strifes and stratagems, and muscular and mental feats, of mature life ; so do the young of lions and of dogs. Children play in imitation of parents, teachers, and nurses ; hence the doll, the wooden horse, the play-house, the child preacher, and the child school-madam. b. Imitation and play are, therefore, the pervading spirit and genius of the first or lower class of the. assthetical affections ; in the second class, they rise above mere imitation and play to ideal reproductions, creations, and perfectings, and a real and earnest endeavor after a higher and purer form of being ; while in the third class depreciation of all things, for sport or injury, is the controlling characteristic. First Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Animal and Mental Development. Wanton Frolic. a. This disposition manifests itself in physical uneasiness and mus- cular activity. It also appears in mental restlessness, and lively sensi- bility, and a quickness of attention in all the organs of sense, The mind and the body of a child, the eye, the ear, the hand, are in per- petual activity, and the young animal is in constant motion. b. This activity of body and mind is purely impulsive; muscle and brain are in a perpetual tremor and excitement. Thus is it that nature develops herself, and gives strength to the young limbs, skill to the hands, and intelligence to the mind. c. Early does a playful, imitation employ all the thoughts of the mind, and the muscles of the body, and they both grow and mature themselves by imitating whatever is done in mature life, and seem to anticipate their own futurity. The child learns to walk, to use the hands, to talk, and to feed itself, and to fill up its time with a thousand imitations of business, pleasure, instruction, and society. d. All this, however, is as yet not reflective, but impulsive ; not de- 212 AUTOLOGY. signed, but spontaneous activity ; and hence it is merely a developing and growing, and not an educating operation. It is simply vital forces endeavoring to embody themselves in limbs, organs, hands, brains, heart, and muscles. It is a disposition to animal and mental growth and development, in which a redundant force is worked up into body and brains. Second Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Animal and Mental Education. Experimenting to the Damage of others. a. This disposition is only an advance on the preceding, being of the same nature, and differing in little else than degree, giving, as it does, somewhat more evidence of reflection and intent. b. Education is the prominent office of the disposition to imitation and play, both in children and in the young of all animals. Through it the muscles of the body and the faculties of the mind are developed and matured, not only, as in the preceding instance, but supplied also with skill, experience, and knowledge. c. This disposition to self-education, like that to self-development, is that overflowing of activity, and that exuberance of strength, and that gushing forth of joyous emotion, which abounds among the young and healthy of men and animals. In brutes it is the superabundance of an- imal vitality, which impels to feats of artifice, agility, strength, and speed. These are observable in the young of animals, especially in the artifices of the young of beasts of prey. d. By this playfulness not only are the activity and muscular strength increased and developed, but knowledge, and experience, and skill are acquired, so that an education is actually gained by which the animal is qualified for its own support and defence. In human beings it appears in all games and gymnastic exercises which call forth mental skill as well as physical mastery. e. It also flows out as mere joyance, as nature's gladness and pas- time, with no object but playfulness, and no impulse but pleasurable imitation. This class of sesthetical affections constitutes nature's gym- nasium, and makes its characteristic appearance in the singing of birds, the gambols of cattle, the sporting of lambs, and the playing of chil- dren, and all for the sake of education and development in muscle and mind. /. In the disposition to the development of mind and muscle, the action seemed totally spontaneous and unintended, simply the uneasiness of nature to embody her force in limb, and joint, and brain, and mem- THE AFFECTIONS. 213 bers : in the disposition to education, however, there appears to be more ; if not in animals, yet certainly in human beings, there is some- what of intended activity, and the purpose withal to acquire skill and knowledge for future use. Hence the games of boyhood and the con- tests of youth. g. Development stops with maturity ; education advances to the ac- quiring of something more than a fully developed nature. The gym- nast, the boxer, the pugilist, the rope-dancer, the circus-rider, all have something more than merely the fully developed gifts of nature. h. So the mechanic, the scholar, the proficient in any profession or science, all gain something beyond development and maturity. Men in foot-races and ball-playing, boat-races and regattas ; musicians, artists, and gamesters, all seek skill, and the power which experience, and' prac- tice, and observation give them, as a means of securing a desired end. They wish to increase their power by the attainment of knowledge and skill ; and thus does this disposition to education rise above that of mere growth, and thus is it an advance in that aspiringness which is ever pressing upward to the highest form of being. i. The abuse of this disposition may be found in a reckless experi- menting, and a willingness to inform or gratify ourselves at the cost of others, or the endangering of our own health or morals. The excesses of vital force flow over into carelessness and sin. Third Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Animal and Mental Hurtful and Vicious Recreation. Amusements. a. Nature matured, developed, and educated, when wearied with her task, childhood in its play, youth in its lessons, manhood in the midst of the burden and heat of the day, and age growing infirm and feeble, each and all call for change, recreation, sport, rejuvenation, release from toil. b. Now, nature has prepared this disposition for these purposes; and hence this affection of the mind lays the foundation for that large ten- dency which is so universal among the people for holidays, feast days, celebrations, anniversaries, commemorations, fairs, military parades, re- views, races, hunting, fishing, games, parties, sleigh-rides, boat-rides, skating. Add to these all shows, concerts, theatres, operas, balls, dances, circuses, bull-fights, menageries, juggleries. c. With what joy do we celebrate the memory of great events, great characters, and great achievements ! as the landing of the Pilgrims, the Fourth of July, the birth of Washington, the battle of Bunker Hill. 214 AUTOLOGY. We build monuments to commemorate battles ; we erect statues to heroes and statesmen ; we build crystal palaces in which to gather the fabrics, inventions, masterpieces of art of the whole world ; we celebrate railroad completions, and the founding of schools, colleges, and benev- olent institutions, and all from the same generic disposition. d. In all this the things sought are recreation, and restoration, and encouragement. Whether in the individual or the object, the whole round of amusement has its impulse and argument here, — nature wants rest ; and more than rest, it wants the enjoyment of rest ; it wants not only strength, but the pleasure of strength ; not only achievement, but tri- umph, which is play, show, imitation, exhibition, abandoment, and frolic ; and hence this provision of nature ; nature would feel for a moment that her tasks are done, and that she is free and independent. e. The gift of the gesthetical, or playful, or imitative affections is, therefore, for a most beneficent purpose, and may serve the most im- portant ends in the work of life. This disposition becomes hurtful when it is made the rule instead of the exception of our life, when amusement becomes our business, " our being's end and aim," and when the kinds of amusement which we seek are immoral and degrading. f. Amusements can never be made either the means of serious edu- cation or of moral culture, from the fact that in their nature they are relaxing, while all education is stringent. In the one case, the mind is strung up, and in the other, unstrung ; and an unstrung harp or violin might as well be expected to give forth good music, or an unbent bow to send forth an effective arrow, as a mind in recreation or amusement to make an effective effort in any mental or moral acquisition. The thing is absurd. g. The sportive affections, animal and mental playfulness or imita- tiveness, are employed for recreation, are for relaxation, and do their good as a relaxation, which is always negative, and not positive. When play is made an end of life, it degenerates into a vice, arid is seen in idleness, dissipation, and wantonness. h. The man to whom amusement is a business, and sport a pursuit, becomes an idler, if not a reveller, and is degraded, if not debauched. The sportive affections do not contemplate any serious end of life as such, but they act involuntarily, and are only a means to an end, and that indirectly. ORDER V. ^STHETICAL AFFECTIONS. Class Second. Ideal Creativeness. Selfial Stale. Selfish State. Ideal Creativeness. Phantasm, Extravaganzas, Monstrosities. THE AFFECTIONS. 215 a. In this class of the sesthetical affections we rise above the real, and all its developing, educating, and re-creating processes,* to the ideal. The mind here is engaged in the transformation of the real into the ideal ; in the creative reproductions, the enhancings, perfecting^, theoriz- ings, and inventions of the ideal. b. The first class of sesthetical affections is moved by a living soul ; this second is animated by a quickening spirit ; the former is of the earth, and earthy ; this second is of the fire of heaven. Flesh and blood, and animal spirit, and physical life had most to do with the first class ; imagination, and reason, and genius have most to do with the second. c. This class of the sesthetical affections includes the whole of our idealistic susceptibilities. By it the force and faculties of our rational nature rise above mere maturity and health, and ascend from the com- petency of the real to the greater perfectness of the ideal. It here be- comes the love of the true, the love of the sublime, the love of the beautiful, and manifests itself in scientific theories, and mathematical demonstrations, and in all sesthetical forms, as in poetry and the drama, fiction and romance, music, painting, and sculpture, theories and inven- tions. d. To the operation of this affection upon our rational nature we owe all our culture in the regions of taste and art, and in philosophy and medicine. In it man is lifted above all the other affections, — the individual, the social, the patriotic, and the philanthropic, — and has no further thought of acquisition, defence, or usefulness ; but triumphing in competence and conscious power, all unexhausted and inexhaustible, he rises above toil,- above fear, and above acting for an end, and acts for the sake of acting, toils for the sake of toiling ; that is, he plays with the superabundance of his strength, and the surplus of his intellectual power. e. As this affection, in the preceding classes, sported with the exuber- ance of animal and vital force, so now it exults in the overflow of intel- lectual life and activity. The Eesthetical affection lays hold of the reason, and plays with science and the arts. It rises and " ascends the highest heaven of invention," and produces ideal forms of scientific theories, poetic imagery, and dramatic action. It shapes beauty upon the canvas, and chisels life out of the marble, and moulds divine thought into music. /. This affection lives for the sake of living, and acts for the feake of acting. It is more than life, and more than action, it is creative ; it creates an ideal world, and fills it with an ideal life, all beautiful and supersensuous, in which all the ideas of the perfect are embodied, and all the conceptions of taste and completeness are realized, in the forms of being and action. 216 AUTOLOGY. g. The existence of this susceptibility is found in childhood, espe- cially in its dramatic aspects. As we have found in the former chapter, children are perpetually imitating, personifying, and representing the characters and scenes of real life ; and among those of an adult age, the illusions of an ideal happiness are a constant lure for the future, and solace for the past. h. This class of gesthetical affections has five manifestations, with their subordinate modifications and expressions, as appears in the fol- lowing schedule. Class Second. Ideal Creativeness. Manifestations. First Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Ideal Theorizingness, Dreaminess, Philosophizing,. . Illusiveness, Building up Systems of Religion, Impracticableness. . Philosophy, Science, Government, Craziness. and Morals ; and a Philosophy comprehending all. Second Manifestation. Ideal Inventiveness,' Routine, as of Instruments, Automaton, Machinery, Engines, Rude Tools and Vehicles, Steamboats, Railroads, Caravans, Hand Labor, Telegraphs, Factories, Forges. instead of Machinery. Third Manifestation. Ideal Reproductiveness, Burlesque, Reproducing History and Buffoonery. Nature in the Drama, Poetry, Song, Painting, and Sculpture. Fourth Manifestation. Ideal Enhanciveness, Exaggeration, Enhancing, Magnifying Extravagance, Character, or Forms of Bombast, Caricature, Nature, or a Capability Untruth, Misrepresen- of being moved by the • tation, Falsehood. Sublime. THE AFFECTIONS. 211 Fifth Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Ideal Perfectiveness, Prettiness, Perfecting and Beautifying Conceits, Nature according to the Ideals Finicalness. of the Mind, either in Architec- ture, Painting, Sculpture, Music, Poetry, or the Drama. This sums up the . This belongs to Highest Culture. Barbaric Show and Eudeness. We now take up the manifestations of Ideal Creativeness in order. . First Manifestation — Ideal Theorizingness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Ideal Theorizingness, Dreaminess, Philosophizing, Building up Illusiveness, Systems of Keligion, Philos- ' Impracticableness, ophy, Science, Government, Craziness. and Morals' ; and a Philos- ophy comprehending all. a. The disposition to theorize, and the susceptibility to pleasure in theorizing, these are the spring of "that hope of a philosophy which is the last infirmity of noble minds." It finds a pleasure in elaborating complete theories, and scientific systems of law, theology, government, nature, and the mind. b. This disposition is not the love of knowledge, or curiosity for facts and incidents ; but it is a pleasurable interest in constructing ideal theories of any and all sciences, with or without reference to their prac- tical character or tendency. c. It is altogether of the imaginative or idealistic kind, and science here becomes one of the fine arts. This susceptibility fills the world with real, learned,' and profound philosophers, and also with Utopians and dreamers, whose systems and theories can have being only in cloud- land, and can never be a reality. d. This affection may be in excess, in deficiency, or in perversion ; and in each ease is wrong. "Beware," says Paul, "lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ." Thus a vain philosophizing may be sinful ; so may also a neglect of true philosophy ; " 28 218 AUTOLOGY. and so may any excess or perversion. Sometimes its excess is a men- tal disease, its absence a guilty stupidity, and its misuse a crime. Second- Manifestation — Ideal Inventiveness. Selfial State. • Selfish State. Ideal Inventiveness, Eoutine, as of Instruments, Automaton, Machinery, Engines, Eude Tools and Vehicles, Steamboats, -Eailroads, Caravans, Hand Labor, Telegraphs, Factories, instead of Machinery. Forges. a. Inventiveness differs from theorizingness, in that it is practical ; that is, it actually produces the thing which is invented. It combines in itself both theory and execution in the production of some new form of machinery, or some new instrument for mechanical use. b. To invent is to find first the principle, and then to adjust the subordinate parts, and so to construct and complete a piece of machinery as that, when done, it will work, and actually execute the thing for which it was designed. There is here required some practical skill as well as original theorizing; and hence inventiveness may.be defined as theorizingness combined with practical skill. c. Inventiveness requires a quick and acute discernment of relations, and a turning of them to the account of some particular object. The disposition to do this is innate and strong in some individuals, and exists, in a degree, in all minds. d. The invention of the telegraph was the shrewd application of that fact in electricity by which motion is produced, to the purposes of communicating intelligence. The fact was known, and the lucky thought now applied it to the purpose of sending messages. Here the invention was not a mere theory, but the quick application of the fact to a practical purpose. e. This is inventing, as differing from theorizing. Theorizing seeks no practical result, but simply loves to theorize for the pleasure of theorizing ; while inventing is also a desire for a practical result. f. This affection may have a diseased excess, a culpable deficiency, or a perverted use, when it spends itself on iniquitous objects. The man who invents an infernal machine sins. The man who wastes 'his time in idle invention sins. The man who opposes all new inventions will sin against all progress, all improvement, and all civilization ; and, of course, sins against humanity. g. The making of machines, or furniture, simply for their curiousness THE AFFECTIONS. 219 or novelty, is a waste of time and skill, and is wrong ; so also the per- sistent abiding in the ruts of old routine is a wrong ; but "to find out knowledge of witty inventions " for use has always been a virtue, from Tubal Cain to Fulton and Morse. Third Manifestation — Ideal Reproductiveness. "Selfial State. Selfish State. Creative Reproductiveness, Burlesque. Reproducing FIistory and Buffoonery. Nature in the Drama, Poetry, Song, Music, Painting, and Sculpture. a. The fondness for dramatic representation, as already observed, appears in childhood as the earliest form of mental development, and shows the predominance of the imitative and sympathetic propensity in the human mind. b. The mind, in imagining, imitates, magnifies, and beautifies ; in other words, it dramatizes, enhances, and perfects. The susceptibility to the first of these is, in its lower stages, one of the earliest mani- festations of the human mind. c. In the first class of the aesthetic affections the real is imitated for purposes of development, education, and recreation, but it does not aim beyond the real. In this class there is a creative reproduction of the real by which it is enhanced and perfected, and represented to us, not as it is, but as it might be, and according to our conceptions of fitness, and what ought to be, or of the possible. d. This difference between imitating the real and the creative repro- duction of the real — which is the ideal — cannot be too clearly marked, or positively insisted upon. The one is little more than mere mechanics ; the other is art ; the one, real ; the other, ideal ; and the ideal is often truer than the real. e. The dram a,, therefore, is the creative idealization and reproduction of the real through a sympathetic imagination which makes our own persons the subject of its activity, transforming us into the semblance of the real characters represented, especially when we are actors. /. The dramatic, which, in its elementary state, appears earliest in childhood, is also the . first in the history of the growth of nations. Dramatic representations in some crude form, as well as rude attempts at sculpture and painting, appear in the first stages of a nation's prog- ress, even before civilization begins. We see it in savage life, some- times, as one of nature's provisions for educating and refining men. 220 AUTOLOGY. g. The natural sympathy or imitativeness upon which it depends is one of our most serviceable faculties in acquiring the. first rudiments of education ; and the ideal forms and scenes of action that are ever play- ing before the minds of the young, the active, the ambitious, are their greatest stimulants and most perfect models for action and attainment. h. This same susceptibility to ideal reproductions and creations shows itself also in a love of poetry and song, fiction and romance, painting and sculpture ; and though all these, as representations of real life, char- acter, and action, belong to the merely imitative, and not to the ideally- creative faculty, yet even in this lowest stage they show the suscepti- bility to artistic representations, and the universality of the aesthetic affections in the human soul ; while in the higher forms they raise man above the real, and .approach the sacred regions of the supernatural and the divine. The susceptibility to dramatic representation is thus a well-known and universally recognized element of our affectional nature. Fourth Manifestation — Ideal Enhanciveness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Ideal, Enhanciveness, Exaggeration, Extravagance, Enhancing and Magnifying Bombast, Character, Action, or Forms Caricature, of Nature, or a Capability Untruth, of being moved by Misrepresentation, the Sublime. Falsehood. a. Enhanciveness is the susceptibility to the sublime. It is that form of the sesthetical affections which is susceptible to impressions of the vast, the grand, the powerful, the sublime in nature, in art, in poetry, description, or oratory. No susceptibility of the mind is better known than this. Enhanciveness is the disposition to magnify the real, and is. subjectively called the sublime. b. Perfectiveness, which is the next manifestation, is the perfecting of the real, and is subjectively called the beautiful. Perfectiveness is an affection for the beautiful, just as enhanciveness is an affection for the sublime. In forming the sublime, we simply enhance the real ; in form- ing the beautiful, we perfect the real, either as it is first found, or after it is enhanced into the sublime. c. There is sublimity in the ocean, the Alps, Niagara. There is sublimity in the tramp of hosts, the shock of battle, the distant roll of thunder. There is that which stirs our susceptibility to the sublime in courage and daring. Luther before the Roman legate, Knox thundering THE AFFECTIONS. . 221 the truth to a corrupt court, stir the affection and raise the emotion of the sublime. Anything that is lofty, unlimited, vast in altitude, magni- tude, or power, to our apprehension, affects our susceptibility to the sublime. d. The humblest and the most uncultivated have this affection as prominently as the most refined. "The poor Indian, whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind, Whose soul proud Science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk, or milky way," feels as deeply moved with the sublime as does a Milton or a Dante. e. The reason, through the imagination, magnifies the real up to ideal vastness ; it sublimates, and in this magnifying, this sublimating, the susceptibility in question feels a pleasurable movement. This manifesta- tion of the sesthetical affections we call enhanciveness, and find it strongly marked as a distinct and original affection of the mind. /. The misuse of this affection runs into exaggeration, extravagance, bombast, caricature, untruth, misrepresentation, falsehood, the moral character of which is obvious. The excess is both folly and sin ; the deficiency is more than mere defect ; the perversion is false and wicked. Fifth Manifestation — Ideal Perfectiveness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Perfectiveness, Prettiness, Perfecting and Beautifying Nature, Conceit, according to the ideals of the flnicalness, Mind, in Architecture, Sculpture, Dilettanteism. Poetry, Painting, Music, and the Drama. a. Perfectiveness is the susceptibility to the beautiful, and a propen- sity to beautify objects and forms of life and manners around us. This susceptibility to some form of beauty, and this propensity to beautify, are universal affections of the human mind. b. The existence of this susceptibility is vastly more marked in some individuals than in others; but as all have an idea. of perfectness, or beauty, and as all have some degree of knowledge or taste as to what is beautiful,- so all have the capability of being affected by what in their apprehension is beautiful ; and all have also a disposition to beautify, according to their own ideas and tastes as to what is beautiful. c. This susceptibility is just as genuine in him who " sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt," as in him who can see it only in the Venus 222 AUTOLOGY. de Medicis ; and in all, the idea is the model, and the taste is the rule, and the susceptibility is the impulse to perfectness and beauty in what- ever may be the object sought. d. The beautiful in some form is everybody's ideal, and everybody's desire. It is the loftiest of all merely selfial ideals, and the love for it is the highest of all the purely selfial affections. The mind that dwells among ideals of the sublime and beautiful, and feels a lively interest and pleasure in them, will not be very low, though it will not be raised to the skies in point of -moral character. e. The highest forms of the merely beautiful are yet below the ethical, and the heart that loves beauty only is still far from God, and utterly destitute of moral excellence. This is not the place to show what the beautiful is, or what the sublime is ; that belongs to another part of this work, and will come up in its place, in the intellectual department. /. It may, however, be here said, in passing, that beauty is the con- formity of the external figure and manifestation of an object to its generic idea. Some objects, it must be observed., have not a complete generic idea; they are deficient both in idea unci in form. g. The human soul is the model of beauty. Beauty coalesces with the perfect, and is always above and higher than the sublime. The sub- lime is a disproportionate and fragmentary vastness of bulk or power, which we cannot see beyond, aud which wo cannot conform to our ideal, because it is too great ; while the beautiful is that which we can conform to our ideal. h. By supplying the wanting parts of the disproportionate and frag- mentary vastness of bulk or power before us, we may carry up the sublime and perfect it into the beautiful. The sublime is thus a disproportionate enhancement of the real, while the beautiful is a perfecting of it. The sublime is that which overwhelms us by its greatness ; the beautiful charms us by its perfectness. Of the sublime we see only a part ; of . the beautiful we see the whole. i. But of this elsewhere : we here treat of the susceptibility alone. The beautiful is not in itself either virtuous or vicious. Our regard for it, and interest in it, may be excessive, defective, or perverted. j. To love beauty, as such, is not to love truth, the right, the just, the obedient, and consequently is no proof of good moral character. To place beauty for God and the right is sin. To disregard it altogether is to sin against perfectness, and to prefer the imperfect. THE AFFECTIONS. .223 ORDER V. iESTHETICAL AFFECTIONS. Class Third. Depreciative Sportiveness. Selfial State. Selfish State. Sportive Depreciation of ant Censoriousness, Object or Event,. Cynicalness. a. This class of the sesthetical affections stands in contrast with the two preceding classes ; for while the first imitates the real, and the second enhances and beautifies it into the ideal, the third depreciates and deforms both the real and the ideal into the ludicrous. b. This class of sesthetical affections manifests itself in three forms : — Manifestations. First Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Wittiness. Waggery, Mockery. Second Manifestation. Ludicro'usness. Ridicule. Third Manifestation. Satiricalness. Vituperation. This sums up This sums up Recreation. Heartless Merriment. a. The delight of the mind in the witty and the ludicrous stands in curious contrast with its delight in the sublime* and beautiful ; for while the sublime enhances and the beautiful perfects its object, the witty and the ludicrous depreciate and deform it. As the former are superior, so are the latter inferior, to the real, while each may be superlative in its way. b. All satirical and comic plays, farces* poems, and songs, as those of Shakespeare, Sheridan, Pope, Byron, Butler, and others, and all comic paintings, as those of Hogarth, are illustrations of this characteristic of the witty and the ludicrous ; as, on the other hand, Paradise Lost, and Childe Harold, the " Last Judgment " of Angelo, and the "Trans- figuration" of Raphael, are illustrations of the sublime and the beautiful. c. They show that wit depreciates and that the ludicrous deforms its 224 AUTOLOGY. object sportively, while the sublime enchances and the beautiful perfects its object seriously. d. Taking up, then, the first manifestation of the disposition to a sportive depreciation of its object, we find as follows : — First Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Wittiness. Waggery, Mockery. a. Wit is the sportive depreciation of an object for the sake of enjoying the play of its own acuteness. It is not, therefore, malicious depreciation, but a playful one — " only for fun." b. For if it is not sportive, but serious, then it is not simply wit, but mockery, which is the selfish and evil side of wit, and is both wounding and wicked. Cruel wit is mockery, low wit is waggery. It is spor- tiveness, as opposed to mockery, that makes a saying wit, in distinction from slander, detraction, and backbiting ; and it is reserve and polite- ness, as opposed to waggery, that makes a saying wit, in distinction from scurrility and buffoonery. The abuses of wit are obvious. c. A disposition to wit is not wrong : the power of wit may be serviceable ; but its perversions are sinful and cruel. Instances illus- trating these views are abundant. The witty Sydney Smith facetiously said in company, by way of merriment, " You cannot get a joke through a Scotchman's head without a surgical operation." This is certainly a playful depreciation of the object for the sake of enjoying the acuteness of wit, on the one hand ; and on the other, as a specimen of the ludicrous, it is a sportive depreciation of the object for the sake of enjoying the incongruity and absurdity of the representation. d. When some one, alluding playfully to the physical proportions of Christopher North, who was as remarkable for his physical beauty as for his intellectual power, said, " He is a splendid beast," it is the wit that is enjoyed, or chiefly this, for there is nothing sufficiently ludicrous even in a "splendid beast" (as the horse) to make it a specimen of the ludicrous, though it is, of course, a depreciation of the object for the sake of enjoying the play and the flash of wit. Second Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish Stale. LUDICROUSNESS. RlDICULE. a. A disposition to the ludicrous leads us to enjoy the sportive depreciation of an object on account of the ludicrousness or deformity THE AFFECTIONS. 225 of the object so depreciated. It enjoys the monstrous, the incongruous. It always places its object in false lights, relations, and proportions, and then laughs at it. b. This also must always be sportive, and not serious, else it would be ridicule and degradation. That which is ludicrous must always be that which is capable of being better. The sport is, that it is a false and unnecessary incongruity, or deformity, and has full power to be otherwise, and that the deformed shape, awkward position, or incon- gruity of relation, is not calamity, or scarcely a fault, but inadvertency, and therefore an object of fun and merriment, and not of commiseration or reproach. c. Were it otherwise, it would be heartless ridicule and cruel mockery. The ludicrous, then, is a deforming of its object for the sake of enjoying the deformity. The ludicrous differs from the witty, there- fore, in that the latter enjoys the act of sportive depreciation, while the former enjoys the state of sportive incongruity. d. Wit depreciates the object about which it is witty ; but it enjoys rather the flash of its own acuteness than the depreciation of its object. The ludicrous depreciates its object also, but it delights in the deformity of the object depreciated, rather than in the act of wit that depreciates. Wit enjoys the cause ; the ludicrous enjoys the effect. e. When a sentimental hearer said to Dr. Robert South, " Don't you think I'll be saved ? I love to hear sermons," the somewhat unclerical doctor replied, " Yes, if a man could be pulled up to heaven by the ears." Here the disposition to wit enjoys the acuteness of the doctor, while the disposition to the ludicrous enjoys the awkward position of the sentimental hearer. Third Manifestation. Selfial State. Selfish State. Satiricalness. Vituperation. a. Sarcasm in its best estate may sometimes be used to shame vice, and to scourge the wicked, but for the most part its use cannot be recommended. b. It seldom produces happy results in the hands of men. Error is sometimes made conscious of its own weakness, vice of its deformity, and the wrong-doer of his bwn hatefulness, by sarcasm ; but, as a rule, ' the disposition which it engenders, even when so employed, is not good, and often becomes worse than the evil which it destroys. c. In its perverted state it becomes vituperation ; into this it easily degenerates, and as such it is one of the worst forms of vice. Of those guilty of this vice, the apostle says, " Their throat is an open sepulchre ; 29 226 4UT0L0GY. with their tongues they have used deceit ; the poison of asps is under their lips ; whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness ; their feet are swift to shed blood ; destruction and misery are in their ways ; and the way of peace have they not known ; there is no fear of God before their eyes." d. Thus we have passed through the whole extent of the sesthetieal affections, and viewed them in their different phases, as, first, relating to real things ; secondly, to ideal things ; and thirdly, to things neither real nor ideal, but a depreciation of both. e. Under the first, we found the assthetical affections as developing- ness, educativeness, and recreativeness. Under the second, we found them as ideal theorizingness, ideal inventiveness, ideal reproductiveness, ideal enhanciveness, and ideal perfectness. And in the third class, we found them as a playful depreciation of both the real and the ideal, showing itself in the witty, the ludicrous, and the sarcastic — the witty delighting in its own flash, and the ludicrous in the deformity of the object which it laughs at, and the sarcastic in the pain which it inflicts on its object. f. And this exhausts this order of affections. That, as an order, these affections have an actual existence, we have frequent proof in this, that many have the disposition to imitate, and to idealize, and invent, who have not the talent to do so. Many would be sublime if they could ; many would beautify if they could ; they would be witty if they could ; but they have not the capability for either. That they have the affec- j tion, the desire, for all these things, is very manifest. g. And it is easy here to see how many may think themselves musi- cians, poets, orators, artists, philosophers, and inventors, because they feel an interest in these things, but mistake the capability of being affected by these things for the genius that produces them. To be af- fected by music, and to be keenly alive to it, is one thing ; to be a musi- cian is quite another. To be delighted with poetry is one thing ; to be able to write poetry is quite another thing. To be thrilled and awed, softened and enraged, by an orator is one thing ; to be an orator, capable of affecting others in this way, is another thing. h. The disposition to write poetry, to sing, to paint, to invent, to theorize, may very readily spring up from the susceptibility of being affected by these things ; but the susceptibility, though it may give the disposition, cannot give the capability of succeeding in any of these departments. i. The peculiar vices to which this class of affections is exposed are, first, connoisseurship, which is the making of the gratification of the eesthetical affections an end, and the end instead of the right and morally obligatory ; and, second, intellectual pride and presumption, in THE AFFECTIONS. 221 venturing upon theories, opinions, experiments, and creeds, which to our apprehension are fair appearing, but which are in reality opposed to God's revealed word and command. j. By claiming for themselves to know the extent and the tendency of good and evil, and rejecting God's commandments and limitations, and venturing upon the experiment, our first parents fell ; and so men will ever sin when they put art or ornament, beauty or amusement, for the end of life, or a mere speculative theory for the word of God. The sesthetical affections have a legitimate use, but m&y be wretchedly per- verted to evil. k. Lastly, wit may be presumptuousness, impiousness, and mockery. When unbridled, it neither fears God nor regards man, but is cruel in ridicule, savage in sarcasm, and sacrilegious in its profanation of that which is holy. ORDER Vi: RELIGIOUS AFEECTIONS. Introduction. a. By the religious affections is here meant, not the state of the renewed heart, according to the Christian faith and the experience of Christian souls, but the natural dispositions of the mind to religion, to worship God, and to regard immortality, and to provide for it. 'b. Man's religious nature leads him to regard himself as a soul, an immortal spirit, answerable to God above him, and destined to an eternal world, where his condition will be assigned by God's authority, accord- ing to deeds and character in this life ; and it is man's susceptibility in relation to these things of which we now speak. c. That which is called the work of divine grace is not here at all considered, but simply the affections of the human heart, which occupy themselves about religion, whether in pagan or Christian, civilized or savage men ; and that, whether these men be theists or atheists, in- fidels or believers. d. Nor do we here consider man's ethical nature, but only his affec- tional nature. We here omit the conscience, and leave it to be discussed in Part IV., after the intellect, and apart and alone, as distinct entirely from the affections as such. e. The ethical nature of man is as distinct from his affectional nature as is the will from the affections, or the intellect from either ; and as much confusion and mischief have been occasioned by mingling the affections and the conscience, as by mixing the will with the affections. They stand eternally distinct. The conscience 'and the heart are as opposite as the intellect and the heart, or the will and the heart. 228 AUTOLOGY. f. These four departments of the mind should never be confounded ; if they are, we can neither know the mind aright, nor anything that the mind knows. If we confound these several departments of the mind, we confound thereby all the truth and all the knowledge that come through them into the mind ; and to this source more than to any other are attributable the hurtful errors, especially in morals, religion, and politics, that curse the human race. g. We now take up the religious affections, as such ; and they are called religious, not because they ar.e right or wrong, pious or impious, but because they have to do with the religious relations, duties, and con- ditions of the soul, more particularly than the other affections. They are neither right nor wrong, ethically considered ; nor are the}' pious or impious, but capable of being either. h. In their nature they are our susceptibilities to religious influences, truths, and conditions, in which man regards himself as a soul, God as above him, and eternity as before him ; and they are precisely the same, in their relation to religion, as the assthetical affections are to aesthetics, the philanthropic to philanthropy, and the social affections to kindred and society. i. We therefore take them up in the sam Q way, and show their origin and constituents, their nature and their office. Vfhen these affec- tions are in their selfial state, we have simply a religious man, and not a selfish man. His religion, however, is not ethical, but natural ; not just or merciful, but' only like parental affections,' good and affectional, negatively right, in relation to law and equity ; positively good, as flow- ing from an affectionate heart, just as parental, and filial, and amical affections, when they flow from the same source, are good, but not ethical. j. We do not here speak of the Christian religion, or of pagan religion, or of theism, or of atheism, but of man's natural capability of holding either, so far as his affections are concerned. The work of God's spirit and grace in the heart is no part of the subject-matter of this chap- ter,. Nor do we here say anything of the conscience, as an element of true religion, nor of man's religious state as a subject of grace. k. That there can be no true religion without man's, ethical nature, and none in which right and wrong, guilt and innocence, are not con- sidered, is most true ; and that these belong to the conscience or the ethical nature of man is also true ; but these are not the topics of this chapter. I. What true religion is, and what it is to be truly a good man in the sight of God, will come up at the close of Part IV., in which the ethical faculty of man, as the last and highest capability of his nature, is discussed, and where we have the whole human mind, in. all its THE AFFECTIONS. 229 faculties, before us, and have thus all the means of showing what a truly good man is. In order to be truly good, a man must be good i:i his whole nature and in the exercise of all his faculties of wilt, heart, intel- lect, and conscience. He must be good in freedom, good. in affections, good in intelligence, good in conscience. He must in all things be just, and holy, and good, doing justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly. m. Now, that man has a religious nature, apart from his conscience or ethical nature, the history of the world is px-oof ; and that religious- ness is neither conscientiousness nor godliness, is equally matter of known history. Religiousness in man, at its best estate as such, is but the mere correlative of the infinite'; that is, it is the mere susceptibility to an impression of awe and reverence, and other emotions in reference to the infinite*. n. Man is a religious being ; he will worship something ; he will always have a God of some sort, good or bad. Paganism in all its forms is proof of this, and the myriad superstitions, the untold thou- sands of rites, penances, and sacrifices which men believe in and inflict on themselves, are proof of their unconquerable disposition to worship something. o. Now, the question arises, Should mere religiousness, or mere dispo- sition to worship, govern the whole life of man, and be the end of his being? It certainly should not, for the mere disposition to worship, mere religiousness, could as well be gratified by worshipping the devil- as by worshipping the God of heaven. p. Mere religiousness has, therefore, not only no moral virtue, no ethical value, but is no safe end of being. Hindoos, Mohammedans, and pagans are all notoriously more religious and devout than Christians. So, among Christians, Catholics are more devout than Protestants. q. In fact, just in proportion as men are ignorant and degraded, just in that proportion are they under the sway of a mere religiosity or su- perstition ; and such religiousness is compatible with ignorance, oppres- sion, cruelty, and vice of every form aud of every degree. r. Mere religiousness, then, is not a moral or ethical virtue, nor the true governing power of the mind ; nor is intelligent religiousness the true governing affection ; for the case is not changed ; it is mere reli- giousness still. The fact that it is intelligent only elevates it from wor- shipping a block, to worshipping a brute or a star, or perchance the true God ; but it does not change it from mere worshipping of some- thing ; and simply a disposition to worship is not man's highest suscep- tibility ; nor is man's highest susceptibility that, the bare gratification of which is good in itself, nor is that which is merely good in itself the true end of man's being. s. That man should be disposed to worship, is indicative of both his 230 AUTOLOGY. weakness and his strength ; of both his lowliness of condition and his exaltation of nature ; for it shows that he recognizes alike his depen- dence and his high origin. He is disposed to believe' because he can- not know all ; and he is disposed to worship, because he appreciates that which is high ; and he is willing to submit, because he finds his own weakness, and that he is in the hands of a higher power. /. But it is only when, as the source and centre of all this, he recog- nizes his own God as author, creator, lawgiver, saviour, and judge, that he becomes a true worshipper, and religion becomes a moral and ethical virtue But this requires a higher element of the mind than mere religious affections, something higher than the mere love of happi- ness — even the conscience, and the love of the right, with emotion and action thereto befitting and belonging. ' u. We now take up the affections which have to do with religious emotions, states, and considerations, whose office it is to respond to reli- gious truth, duty, charity, and work. We consider them simply as susceptibilities which nature has given to respond to, and be exercised by, religious things. And in considering them we begin with their ori- gin and components. t. The religious affections grow out of all the other affections, and partake of the nature of them all ; they ave the last and highest range of human susceptibilities, and complete the whole of man's affectional nature. This order of affections, as do all the preceding orders, arises out of an elementary affection, through which all the other elementary affections are for the time being determined; viz., Rcverentialness. w. This is the last of the elementary affections, and the source, foun- tain, and correlative of the last order of determinate affections — the Re- ligious affections. x. In order that it may fully appear that the religious affections are made up of all the other affections, and are indeed an outgrowth, a ma- turing and culmination of them all, we hei*e give at length the whole process of their development, from beginning to end. It will then be manifest that religiousness is indigenous to the human heart. y. The order of Religious Affections has its genesis on this wise : Starting in that fountain of all affectional life, that head and centre of all the affections, Desirefulness, it flows out and develops from itself trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and then reveren- tialness. Each of these is developed from all the rest. Then all these six elemental affections, combining, determine themselves through rever- entialness, and passing through each of the orders of determinate affec- tions, and partaking of the nature of each, go out beyond them all, and form the order of Religious affections, which is the last outflow of the human heart. Thus the religious affections are compounded of all the THE AFFECTIONS. 231 other affections of the heart. Though distinguishable from the rest, yet are they made up of all the rest, and derive their life from all the rest. 1. All the elemental affections combine in and determine themselves through reverentialness. 2. Reverentialness diffuses itself through all the Individual affections, in all their classes and manifestations ; viz., the self-sustentative, the self-defensive, the self-acquisitive, and the self-annunciative, with all their various subordinate manifestations. 3. Reverentialness, partaking of all these individual affections, and being enlarged by them, passes over and expands into the Social affec- tions, mingling with all their classes of marital, parental, fraternal, and amical affections, with all their manifestations respectivelj-. 4. Reverentialness, being thus modified and expanded by the social affections, goes over still into the broader region of the Patriotic affec- tions, combining with them in their classes of raceal, social, cultal, and national affections, and mixing with all their subdivided forms of mani- festation. 5. Taking on the larger and more liberal life of the patriotic affec- tions, reverentialness, flows over still, into the wider and deeper sea of the Philanthropic affections; and here infusing itself into the great classes of humane and utile affections, it pervades all the- pity for the suffering, help for the needy, kindness for the undeserving, forbearance for the erring, and charity for all, which belong to the former class, and enters into all the sympathy for home conveniences, social proprieties, and public spirit. which belong to the latter class. 6. Absorbing into itself all the philanthropic affections, and bearing them on its own current, reverentialness ri§es still, and flows over into the more elevated and beautiful crystal waters of the vEsthetical affec- tions. Here reverentialness mingles, clarifies, and transmutes itself into all the classes of assthetical affections, viz., playful imitativeness, ideal creativeness, and sportive depreciativeness. It then absorbs into itself the dispositions to animal and mental development, education and recre~ ation, of the first class, and all ideal reproductiveness, enhanciveness, perfectiveness, theorizingness, and inventiveness, of the second, and all the disposition to wittiness, ludicrousness, and satiricalness, of the third. 7. Being lifted up, enlarged, and transformed by the assthetical affec- tions, reverentialness flows. out a clear and beautiful stream, and forms itself into the pure deep sea of Religious affections, which, pervading the whole heart and absorbing all, divides itself into classes correspond- ing to each of the elemental affections, and, of course, to each of the orders of the determinate affections. These six classes have each their peculiar manifestations. 232 AUTOLOGY. y. And here these waters, as of old, are by the divine commandment stayed. "Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther," was the Creator's command. Here the stream of human affection exhausts itself, because its fountains send out no more waters ; here they pause and round them- selves into completeness, as one finished and ensphered sea of the human heart, each part distinguishable, yet all combined and forming one com- plete and undivided whole. z. And now, having seen whence the religious affections arise, and having traced them through all the course of their formation and prog- ress, until they are a complete and determinate body by themselves, the last and the highest of the human heart, we shall take them up specifically, and examine their various classes, and subordinate manifes- tations, as we have done with the preceding orders in their respective turns. These religious affections are simply selfial, a part of the self, and neither right nor wrong, they are formed just as the other affections are formed. We have seen how reverential ness, as an elemental affection, became religiousness, as a determinate affection, and by what process ; and that in all respects its formation is the same as that of the other orders, only that it partakes of them all, while the other orders have all the elemental affections in their composition, but necessarily only those orders of determinate affections which precede them. Taking up, then, the order of religious affections, we find that it has six classes, with their manifestations, as follows : — ORDER VI. RELIGIOUS AFFECTIONS. Class First. Spiritual Wants. Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish State. Spiritual Wants. Anxiousness. 1. longingness. solicttousness, indifference. 2. Dependentness. Dejectedness, Recklessness. 3. Prayerfulness. Abjectness, Presumption. Class Second. Faith in God. Manifestations Faith in God and the Supernatural. Polytheism, Sadduceeism. 1. Believingness. Credulousness, Scepticism. 2. Obedientness. Obsequiousness, Disobedientness. 3. Venerativeness. Adulation, Impiousness. THE AFFECTIONS. 233 Class Third. Hope of Immortality. Manifestations. Selfial State. Hope of Immortality. 1. FoRECASTINGNESS. 2. ExPANSIVENESS. 3. FORESTALLINGNESS. Selfish State. FoREBODINGNESS. Presentiment. Self-contractedness. Nihilism. Class Fourth. Anticipation of Heaven. Manifestations. Anticipation of Heaven. 1. Gladsomeness. 2. Benevolentness. 3. Gratefulness. Self-gratification in this Life. Self-indulgence. Self-seeking. Self-adulation. Class Fifth. Divine Assimilation. Manifestations. . . Divine Assimilation. 1. Introspectiveness. 2. Self-renunciativeness. 3. Transformativeness. Deformation. Self-vexing. Doing Penance. Imbrutement. Class Sixth. Devotion to the Divine. Manifestations, Devotion to the Divine. Self-immolation. 1. Subordinativeness. Servileness. 2. conformingness. blgotedness. 3. CONSECRATIVENESS. DeVOTEDNESS. This is Religion. This is Superstition. a. This order of affections is nature's provision in the heart for re- ligious emotions and states, and is the summing up' of all that precedes it. They are not in themselves any better or more divine than any other affections, or any other faculty of the mind, but are simply the capability of being affected with religious facts and interests. b. It will readily appear that these six classes stand each over against, and are correlative to, each of the orders of determinate affections respec- 30 234 AUTOLOGY. tively, as they each in turn correspond to the six elementary affections. Thus these classes cover the whole complex field of the affections, and are the religiousness of the whole heart. c. Moreover, each class of these religious affections has also a natural affinity and identity of nature with each corresponding elemental affec- tion ; and thus they are the blossoming out of the whole tree, with all its branches of man's affectional life. Religiousness is thus the natural fruit of all the affections of the human heart, combined into one tree of life. d. The first class of religious affections manifest themselves sub- jectively in the three modes following, while objectively they appear in forms analogous to the several classes of the first order of determinate affections. e. This class corresponds to the first elemental affections, and to the first order of determinate affections, and takes its characteristics from them. That which was desirefnlness in the elemental affections, and which became the individual order in the determinate affections, here appears as spiritual wants, and constitutes the first class of the religious affections, as follows : — Class First. Spiritual Wants. Manifestations. Selfial Stale. Selfish State. Spiritual Wants. Anxiousness. 1. longingness. solicitousness or indifference. 2. Dependentness. Dejectedness or Recklessness. 3. Prayerfulness. Abjectness or Presumptuousness. f. The first class of the religious affections we call spiritual wants. It is essentially the same as desirefulness in the original elemental affections. g. There it is the very fountain of the heart. It has now passed through all the developments and determinations of human affections, and sought satisfaction and rest in all forms of human things in the world, and has come out again, rising over them all, dissatisfied and restless, and more desireful than ever. h. It has grown intense instead of quiet, hungry instead of satisfied, by attempting to feed on worldly and passing objects. It is now no more' mere desire, but want, absolute spiritual want, longing after some- thing which this world cannot give, and yearning after immortality. The starving and famished soul now cries out for that which will satisfy THE AFFECTIONS. 235 its spiritual nature. The soul manifests itself as above the body, and above the pursuits of the mind also, in relation to this world, and aspires, and yearns, and hungers, and longs for immortality and immortal interests to animate, employ, and satisfy it. i. This is here the religious affection. It manifests itself first in longingness, and second in a consciousness of dependence upon an all- mastering power. It finds itself unable to supply its own wants here, and insuperable barriers rise on every hand, preventing it from going elsewhere for help. This gives the consciousness of weakness, of de- pendence, and of helplessness ; and thus is the soul disposed to prayer- fulness, which is the third manifestation of spiritual wants. . j. All men are disposed to pray ; all men do at some times pray. The natural outcry of the heart for help, the call of need for relief, of weakness for strength, of clanger for rescue, — all these are pi^er in its simple and normal state. Now, in this first religious affection, in which man's heart longs for the infinite, and man's soul pines for immortality, and in which all his weaknesses, disabilities, and destitutions come upon him, — in this first dawns his belief in immortality, his faith in the un- seen ; and here rises his first prayer to God for deliverance. k. Here begins his religious life. This affection is the fountain of all religion. This will appear yet more clearly when we recur to the affection of spiritual want, in its first and normal state as an elemental affection. I. As such it was mere desirefulness going out after gratification, not knowing fully what it wanted, or whither it was going. Flowing out, and developing from itself all the other elementary affections, and again determining them all through itself, it sought relief in the forma- tion of the order of Individual affections, with all its classes and manifes- tations. Into these it entered as its legitimate field of action and enjoyment, and with the hope that it had found the true and complete end of its. being. m. Accordingly it expanded and diversified itself into the class of self-sustentative affections, with all its various -manifestations, and then into the class of self-defensive affections, with all its manifestations ; and in like manner it entered into the class of self-acquisitive affections, and its manifold forms of manifestations ; and lastly into the class of self- annunciative affections, and asserted itself through all its modes of avowal and manifestation, until it had exhausted them all, and still found itself dissatisfied and unsupplied. n. In like manner it entered and passed through all the other affections, both elemental and determinate. But though it joined with the other elemental affections, forming order after order of determinate affec- tions, and passed through them all, yet it did not find sufficient expansion, 236 AUTOLOGY. satisfaction, or relief, until this last order of religious affections was formed. o. It now appears, rising above them all, as the desire for that which is higher than all earthly gratifications or pursuits — even the spiritual and the divine. It now reveals itself as spiritual want. It is here manifest that in the original element of desirefulness there was that which was spiritual, and which sought in vain for relief and satisfaction in any of the forms and manifestations of earthly affections. Not in- dividual, or social, or patriotic, or philanthropic, or eesthetiq affections, with all their grand universe of love, expansion, elevation and work, could satisfy it ; but rising over them all, it comes out as a want of the soul, which the whole world has failed to supply. p\ It is an historic proof, an experimental test, that the soul has im- mortal and spiritual longings, for the relief of which, it feels dependence, and offers prayer to God. Here is immortality stirring within us, and speaking out from the summit of the whole heart's developments, re- sources, and pursuits, and calling on the supernatural, the infinite, and the divine. q. Is it asked, What are these spiritual wants which will not be satis- fied with earthly things, and which rise up and cry out over all for some- thing higher and better ? Is it asked, What would the spirit have ? The reply is, It would have, and it calls after, the same things which the ele- ment of desirefulness called for at the first. r. Desirefulness called for self-sustentation : so now the soul is famishing. It called for self-defence : so now the soul feels its danger, and seeks self-defence. It called for self-acquisition : so now would the soul acquire immortal possessions for its many faculties and wants. It demanded a field for self-assertion, action, and empire : so now does it demand " scope and verge " for its immortal activities. s. These are no more mere worldly desires, but deep, yearning, spiritual wants, which the soul feels. It has found out from its own experi- menting, that " The world can never give The bliss for which we sigh; 'Tis not the whole of life to live, Nor all of death to die ; " and it now rises up and looks out* beyond this world for relief. The spiritual wants of the soul lift up their imploring hands and look into the deep eternity before them, and call for help and deliverance. t. This is the first class of the religious affections, viz., spiritual wants, that long and yearn, in conscious dependence and prayerfulness, for larger enjoyments and a higher life. The excesses and defects, per- versions and opposites, of these affections are manifest. THE AFFECTIONS. 23? u. Anxiousness, which, like "the sorrow of the world, worketh death/' stands over against the consciousness of spiritual wants, as an excess, perversion, or defect. It has its bad manifestation in a wasting solicitude or a paralyzing indifference, in dejectedness of mind or reckless- ness of spirit, in abjectness of soul or in a presumptuous pride of heart. v. These selfish forms of this affection present innumerable cases where extremes meet and where contrarieties harmonize in one common depravity, each showing the lost, wretched, and forlorn estate of a guilty and fallen soul. Yet these phenomena of the depraved heart as much foretell and demand another life, as does the same affection when under the manifestation of its selfial state. Class Second. Faith in God. The second class of religious affections is faith. in God and the super- natural, and has three prominent manifestations which will sufficiently show its nature. Manifestations. Selfial Slate. Selfish State. Faith in God. Polytheism. Believingness. • • Sadduceeism. Obedientness. Credulousness, Scepticism. Venerativeness. Obsequiousness, Disobedientness. Adulation, Impiousness. a. In this affection, that which was simple trust in the elemental affec- tions, and which became the second or social order of determinate affec- tions, appears as positive belief in the unseen and the spiritual. Trust- fulness has gone through all the combinations, developments, and deter- minations of all the elements, orders, classes, and manifestations of the affections of the whole heart, as did desirefulness before it, and has come out at last as a religious affection through the determination of the element of veneration, and now. appears not as simple trust in the visible and tangible in this world, but as faith in God and in the unseen and spirit world. b. It has, as trust, tried all the forms of earthly things, and found them wanting ; and it now rises up in the strength of its own spirit, and spreads its wings towards the infinite and the eternal. It has found all human pursuits too small, and too poor, to satisfy the wants of the soul ; and now it rises above them, and struggles away from them, and de- mands for itself the supernatural and the divine. 238 AUTOLOGY,. c. Thus that which was simply the confidence and trust of strong desire in the elemental affection, becomes faith in God and' the super- natural in the determinate order of religious affections. d. That same trustfulness which went out from its elementary state through the order of the individual affections, and rejoiced to flow over and find a field for its own generous confidingness in the new order of the social affections, and to expand itself into all its classes and manifestations, now finds that there is not room enough for it there. • e. It expanded itself into the classes of marital, parental, filial, frater- nal, and amical affections, and diversified itself into all their many mani- festations, and found genial life and legitimate employment there, but not sufficient. f. From that point it flowed out with all the succeeding elements in forming the orders respectivtly which are based upon them. g. Lastly it combined with the original elements determined through reverentialness, and partaking with reverentialness of all through which they both passed, joined with it in forming the great body and last order of the Religious Affections, and there comes out in the second class as faith in God and the supernatural. h. Here this original trustfulness of the soul appears exhausted, un- satisfied, and disheartened, and here, it yearns for all those pure loves which characterize the social order of affections in human life. Here, rising above flesh and sense, it demands the high joys of holy love, and intimacy with pure and loving spirits, analogous to those in which it once sought a fitting end of being. Divested of perishing and passing peculiarities of the social affections, this faith in God and the super- natural demands the high and holy communings of immortal spirits, im- mortal relations, kindred, and ties. i. That which is real, mental, and spiritual in the marital affection, where soul mingles with soul ; that which is pure and unselfish in pa- rental affection; that which is holy in filial love, in fraternal sympathy, especially in amical attachment, like that of David and Jonathan, — all this is yearned for by the hungry heart, which, after trying all other things, finds its trustfulness unsatisfied until at last it comes out as faith in God, and feels that " Love indeed is light from heaven, A spark of that immortal fire, By angels felt, by Allah given, To raise from earth each low desire." j. Trustfulness in mere human relations determining all the other ele- mental affections through itself, and flowing out through the order of the individual affections, forms and claims the whole order of the social affections as the field of its generous loves and confiding operations. THE AFFECTIONS. 239 k. But when the whole heart is complete, and when it has expanded itself into all the classes and manifestations of its own order, and joined in forming all the other orders, then at last it breaks out again with its own original characteristics, and in the final and completing order of the affections of the whole heart forms a distinct class by itself; and as faith in God, it looks out for relations and loves, pure, supersensual, immortal and imperishable in the world to co'me, even to God and the spirits of the just made perfect in a blessed eternity. I. This affection manifests itself first in Believingness, a disposition to confide in that which is unseen, 3 r et which gives evidence of its re : ality. Man's deep spiritual wants, and this failure of all earthly things to supply them, and his own inability by knowledge or power to help himself, — all these dispose him to faith in a higher power, and by faith in that power to maintain the soul amidst its wants. m. This belief in a higher power leads naturally to obedience to the will and commands of that power. Obedience is the natural fruit of faith, and obedience as naturally produces respectfulness and veneration. In these things faith or coufidingness manifests itself as a religious affection ; it believes and obeys ; it venerates the invisible and the infi- nite. In this religiousness comes out fully and decidedly. n. This affection has its excesses and its opposites. Its excess is credulousness, with scepticism for its opposite, with which it always has a strong affinity. It is not a little curious that the most believing are sometimes the most unbelieving ; the sceptical are the most credulous, and especially they who are the most sceptical about true religion are the most credulous about a false religion. o. Scepticism and superstition are as near of kin as are credulity and superstition ; and absolute disobedience to God and truth are at the bottom of them all, for credulity is never intelligent faith, and when such faith becomes intelligent, if the soul has nO conformity to it, it is only a negative faith, and may at any time develop itself into open hostility. p. That men will have a God, and must believe something, is proved by the myriad gods and superstitions of every age. Polytheism and the mythologies of the world show man's indestructible belief in God and in the supernatural. 240 AUTOLOGY. Class Third. Hope of Immortality. Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish State. Hope of Immortality. Forebodingness. forecastingness. presentiment. EXPANSIVENESS. SeLF-CONTRACTION. FORESTALLINGNESS. SaDDUCEEISM. a. That which was simple hopefulness in the elemental state, and became the third or patriotic order of determinate affections, here takes the definite form of the positive Hope of Immortality ; and as from de- sirefulness proceeded trustfulness, and from the combination of the two came hopefulness, so here, from the spiritual want, comes faith in God and the supernatural ; and from the combination of spiritual want and faith in God comes the hope of immortality. b. Hopefulness started out, as on a voyage of life, in the elementary affections, and combining with it all the other elemental affections, went forth through the orders of the individual and the social affections, and passing beyond them, expanded into the wide field of the Patriotic Affections. c. Here it sought " scope and verge " for its inherent impulsiveness and expansiveness, but found them net ; and after joining with the suc- ceeding elements, as it had with the preceding, as they were deter- mined into their different orders respectively, it at last comes out here in the determinate order of the religious affections as the Hope of Immortality^. d. And as the elemental hopefulness sought to satisfy itself in pa- triotism, so does the hope of immortality seek to satisfy itself in immor- tal things. e. In the patriotic affections, hopefulness expanded itself into raceal affections, local affections, cultal and national affections, covering all human relations, but was not satisfied. It now seeks for kindred ob- jects beyond this world, and hopes for a nobler race, a better country, a higher cultivation, and a more glorious nationality, in the world to come. Such is the natural hope of immortality. /. It manifests itself in a disposition to forecast the future, — or in forecastingness, — and in a spirit of expansiveness awakened by reason of the opening immortality before it, and lastly in a disposition to fore- stall the destinies of the world to come by some preparation for it. g. These are its subjective states and manifestations here, through which it looks out upon immortal interests and attainments. Of nothing THE AFFECTIONS. 241 are men more conscious than of their hopes of immortality, and of their forecasting, expanding-, and forestalling tendencies of mind, as they are ever looking forward and resting on attainments and possessions in the life to come. h. There are excesses and deficiencies, perversions and opposites, of these affections. By reason of some presentiment of evil or casualty, giving forebodings of ruin, and misery, and death, .many through fear are " all their lifetime subject to bondage." i. And others, who reject the notion of immortality, contract them- selves into a vicious Epicureanism, which says, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die," or into a more bitter and malign Sadduceeism which believes neither in God, spirit, nor immortality. Thus the per- verters of the affections of Hopefulness imbrute and benight themselves in the present, while they rob their souls of the cheer and the stimu- lants of immortality, and of the excellence and beauty of a completed character and a blessed condition in the life to come. Class Fourth. Anticipation of Heaven. Manifestations. Selfial Slate. Selfish State. Anticipation of Heaven. Self-geatification in this Life, gladsomeness. self-innulgence. , Benevoi.entness. Self-seeking. Gratefulness. Self-adulation. a. That which was cheerfulness as an elemental affection, and which became the fourth or philanthropic order of the determinate affections, appears here as the fourth class of the religious affections, and in the form of anticipation of happiness in a future life, or complacency arising out of the desire, belief, and hope of immortality. b. For as cheerfulness was formed by combining the three preceding elemental affections, and as the fourth, or philanthropic order of the determinate affections was developed from the three preceding orders, so here the anticipation of heaven, or happiness in a future life, arises out of the combination of the three preceding classes, viz., spiritual wants, faith in God, and the hope of immortality. • c. It corresponds in position, nature, and relations, to cheerfulness in the elemental affections ; and as cheerfulness sought its field in the order of the philanthropic affections, so this cheerful and confiding desire of happiness (which is anticipation) seeks its field of enjoyment in heaven, or the life to come. d. Cheerfulness sought its first expansion by diffusing itself through the other elements, and through the orders of affections into which they 31 242 AUTOLOGY. were determined, until its own turn came to determine these affections through itself, and form, by combination with them, the determinate order of the philanthropic affections. e. Here it found the largest and broadest field of human action, and it diffused its light, and imparted its animation, through all the classes, manifestations, and modifications of these affections ; and then was mingled with all the succeeding orders, until it finally cropped out in the religious affections. /. This original element of cheerfulness, having been combined with all the orders of the determinate affections, and having itself determined the formation of one of these orders, now, at last, appears as the fourth class of the religious affections, with the name and nature of the antici- pation of heaven, or happiness in the life to come. g. It here manifests itself as gladsomeness, benevolentness, "grateful- ness, taking thus an interest and finding delight in the same class of things in which it found delight as mere cheerfulness. As, then, cheerfulness animated and enlightened by its presence, and both impelled and inspired humane affections and useful affections, — the one embracing pity for the suffering, help for the needy, kindness for the undeserving, forbear- ance for the erring, and charity for all ; and the other, home conven- iences, social proprieties, and public spirit, with all their various modifi- cations — so now does this anticipation of future happiness and heaven find its enjoyment and its expectation of good in similar things. h. The gladsomeness which trust and hope inspire, the benevolence which a cheerful complacency awakens, and the gratefulness which assured good stirs up in the .soul, look out beyond this world, and expand themselves, and find action and enjoyment in the anticipation of happiness in heaven — the happiness of well-doing, enlargement, and enterprise, the happiness of exercising humane affections, and all manner of benevolent and public-spirited affections in corresponding activities in the future world. i. This world is all too narrow for the soul, and it looks out beyond and above into the future, and longs for the supernatural and the eternal. The excesses and perversions, deficiencies and opposites, of this affec- tion appear in self-gratification sought in this life, self-indulgence, self- seeking, and self-adulation, instead of gladness in that which is good, benevolence towards all, and praise and thanksgiving for the universal good of the entire universe. j. Thus does cheerfulness, after permeating all human relations, and giving light to them all, and having pervaded the broadest philan- thropy, and flowed into the formation of the religious affections, here also rise above all human things, and sjjread its joyous plumes for hap- piness in the immortal state. THE AFFECTIONS. 243 Class Fifth. Divine Assimilativeness. Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish State. Divine Assimilativeness. • Deformation. Introspectiveness. Self- vexing. Self-renunciativeness. • Doing Penance. Transformativeness. Imbrutement. a. That which was aspiringness in the elemental affections, and be- came the fifth or assthetical order of determinate affections, is here a disposition to assimilate to the Divine, and forms the fifth class of the religious affections. b. No mere affection of the mind points more directly upward, or sends its aspirations higher into the skies, than this. Beginning in mere aspiringness, as an elemental affection, and diffusing its spirit through all the successive orders of the determinate affections, and lifting them up by its own impulsations, it extended beyond them into a field of its own. c. Failing to raise, as it sought, the preceding affections to the skies, it went out and formed for itself the order of the sesthetical affections, and there sought by the productions of its own genius in all the depart- ments of imitative, reproductive, and creative art,' as they appear in poetry, the drama, statuary, painting, and music, to bring gods and angels, and the heavens themselves, down to the earth. d. But having here exhausted itself, and failed to bring down fire from heaven to give life, and spirit, and immortality to its works, and having been mingled with reverentialness in forming the order of the religious affections, it now reappears in its own original form of aspiring- ness, as one of the religious affections, of which order it constitutes the fifth class. e. Here it is Assimilativeness to the divine, and has, at least, these three moments : introspectiveness, or a disposition to introspection ; self-renunciativeness, or a disposition to self-renunciation; transforma- tiveness, or a disposition to a transforming assimilation to the divine. f. Now, this affection, as aspiringness, had already sought in vain for fit embodiment in all the orders of "earthly affections before it formed its own class. It had explored all the classes, manifestations, and modes of the order of the individual affections, — as the self-sustentative, the self-defensive, the self-acquisitive, and the self-annunciative classes, — but it did not find in the physical perfectness, heroism, attainments, or personal proprietorship of any of them respectively, or of all of them as a whole, an adequate embodiment of its nature. 244 AUTOLOGY. g. It then passed out into the social order of affections, and expanded itself through all its classes and manifestations, — as the marital, the parental, the filial, the fraternal, and the amical, — but it was unable to raise up to its own standard any of their relations or forms of either domestic or social life. h. It then moved on into the still broader field of the patriotic affec- tions, and infused itself into all their classes, — raceal, local, cultal, and national, — but it was unable, in any satisfactory degree, to etherealize them with its own spirit. i. It passed on, in the next place, to the order of the philanthropic affections ; and in this largest field and deepest sea of the human heart sought earnestly to find room for its activity. In order to this it went into all the forms and classes of the humane affections and institutions, and strove to make them artistic and beautiful, and to lift them above cold charity and laborious love : but in vain. Enlarging 'itself into the broader field of the utile affections, it there strove to beautify homes with artistic conveniences, and society with elegant proprieties, and the community and the state with useful and noble public-spirited works of improvement and art ; but it found not satisfaction. /. It now set out to form an order for itself, and starting afresh from its own fountain, and determining all the elemental affections through itself, and leading off in its own spirit, and partaking, so far as it could, of all the preceding elements and orders, it went out beyond them all, and formed its own world of ^Esthetic Affections. k. Here it sought to create all things after its own ideal models, or, like another Moses, to "make all things according to the pattern showed" by the divine hand on the summit of its own Olympian mount; and it obeyed, and did make all things thus beautiful, and filled its own world with the works of its own hands. I. That world was filled with all ideal imitations, ideal reproduc- tions, ideal creations, enhancings, and perfectings ; it was a glorious world, a crystal-palatial world, full of all noble structures, beautiful forms, graceful figures, skilful inventions, and tasteful arrangements, where everything combined to adorn the scene, and elevate and entrance the beholder. m. And surely it was all wonderful and divine, and ought to be, it would seem, as real, and vital, and enduring as it was beautiful and per- fect ; but alas ! it was not. In vain did aspiringness strive through the whole range of the sesthetical affections to find embodiment, and home, and happiness, and contentment for itself. n. Rising up behind it came on the elemental wave of reverentialness, which, condensing and determining all the other elemental affections into itself, swept through all the preceding orders of the determinate affec- THE AFFECTIONS. 245 • tions, and coming 1 to the aesthetic order, pervaded it, and bearing it along with all its fruits, formed the last great order, of the Religious Affections. o. And here again aspiringness breaks out in its own character, as the fifth class of the religious affections ; and here, reaching upward and expanding itself out beyond the world, and all the forms of art, and action, and bea'uty in it, it rises ever and ever in aspiring assimilation towards the divine. p. Such is aspiringness as a religious affection, and such is its his- tory and nature as an elementary affection of the human heart. Here it appears as an earnest introspectiveness, searching out its own defects, and as a rigorous and decided self-renunciativeness, sloughing off" and throwing away and ridding itself of its own deformities, and then as an assimilative transforniativeness, by which it is ever striving to shape itself into the divine. q. Thus is it a religious and not simply an artistic affection. Religion seeks to perfect some ideal object ; and it looks for realization in another world, while art looks for its completeness in this. r. This affection' has its opposites, excesses, deficiencies and perver- sions. Instead of transforming the soul into the divine, they deform it into the brutish and the infernal. That which is rightly self-examination becomes in its perverted state self-vexing ; and that which is honest and reformatory self-renunciativeness becomes penance-doing ; and assimila- tion to the divine becomes only simulation, of the religious, and is an actual degradation to brutishness, and to the form and the spirit of Satan. Class Sixth. Devotedness to the Divine. Manifestations. Selfial State. Selfish State. Devotedness to the Divine. Self-immolation. SUBORDINATIVENESS. SeRVILENESS. conformingness. blgotedness. Consecrat'iveness. Devoteeism. a. Here that which was reverentialness, as an elemental affection, and which, determining all the other elements through itself, and passing through, and pervading, and partaking of all the orders of the deter- minate affections, came out and formed this last, great, crowning, and completing order of the religious affections, now appears as devotedness to the divine, and forms the last class of all the affections, completing the whole globe of the human heart. 246 AUTOLOGY. • b. In its own and last order, it is its own last class, manifestation, and mode ; and appears first as subordinativeness to the Divine, secondly as conformingness to the divine, and thirdly as consecrativeness to the divine. c. And here the whole, last, largest, completest, and highest develop- ment of man's heart ceases, being fnll-orbed and perfect. d. These affections have their opposites, excesses, deficiencies, and perversions, as manifested in that awful form of human degradation and devil's mockery — self-immolation. In this immolation man is a victim to sin, superstition, and Satan ; and in the forms of base servileness to priests, and rites, and sacrifices, and in a contracting, embittering, and belittling bigotry, and a more benighting and degrading devotedness, the soul falls into the lowest depths of fanaticism, imbecility, and i:n^ brutation. e. It is not needful here to go at length into the methods in which these selfish, and perverted, and defective, and excessive states of this affection manifest .themselves. The history of all human religions suffi- ciently shows them ; nor is it needful to write out the methods in which the soul, in its devotedness to the divine, subordinates itself to rule and authority, or in what way it conforms itself to the divine image, or con- secrates itself to the divine service. f. It is sufficient that here we have completed an inventory of the contents of man's affectional nature, an enumeration of the inhabitants of the heart, giving at least the chief progenitors and heads of families, and the most prominent sons and daughters, with some of the criminals, vagabonds, and outlaws, and also a few of the fair- featured sinners. g. These affections, thus complete, constitute the empire of the will, and the people for whom the will governs, the intellect legislates, and the conscience judges. As such they are considered and hold their place in this work. This is the only true light in which to view them, and in which to treat of the other faculties of the mind in relation to them. CONCLUSION. 1. Man's Nature religious. 2. Distinction between the Affections, or Heart, and the Conscience. 3. The Immortality of the Soul. Before leaving this for the intellectual or legislative department of the mind, it will be pertinent to call attention to three things which this view of the nature, genesis, and mutual relations of the affections most clearly points out; viz., the proof which it gives, first, of the predomi- nance of the religious in man's nature ; second, of the distinction between the affections and the conscience ; and third, of the immortality of the soul. THE AFFECTIONS. 247 First. a. The fact that man is a religious being here forces itself upon us ; and the fact that the heart is the seat of all religious states, impulses, and emotions, is here irresistibly manifest. There is not one element of the heart that can find fitting embodiment or rest until it arrives at the religious, and actually becomes religious ; nor is there one order of the determinate affections that can furnish an adequate or fitting field for the exercise and development of the essential and elemental , affections of the heart. b. Desirefulness, as we have seen, concentring and determining ail in itself, flows gut. and forms the order of the individual affections, with all its classes ; but it cannot find rest and satisfaction here. It is not only borne on by the impulse that forms every other order and class of affections, but it at last crops out as a religious affection itself, forming the first class of religious affections, under the name of Spiritual wants. c. Then Trustfulness sought the end of its being by determining the other elements into itself, and by flowing out beyond the individual, and foimiing the order of the Social affections. But it could not stop there; it was 'borne along on the currents that formed each successive order of determinate affections, until it reappeared at last as a religious affection, under the name and character of Faith in God, and formed the second class of religious affections. d. Then Hopefulness, in like manner, determined the elements of the heart into itself, and went out still farther, and partaking of all, dif- fused itself through the larger order of the Patriotic affections. But this did not satisfy or exhaust it : swept on by the succeeding currents, it at length became a religious affection, under the name and nature of the Hope of Immortality, and formed the third class of religious affections. e. Then Cheerfulness sought to gratify its sweet complacency by de- termining all the elemental affections into itself; and going out through and beyond all that had preceded it, partaking of them all, it expanded itself into, and diffused itself through, all the vast order of Philanthropic affections. But even its mild power could not stop here : it also was carried along by the succeeding currents, until it came out at last as a religious affection, under the name of the Anticipation of Heaven, and formed the fourth class of religious affections. /. Then Aspiringness, with the same unconfinable spirit as its prede- cessors, determining all into itself, goes like a stream of electricity through all the existing orders and classes, and pervading and quicken- ing all, enters the higher and more ethereal field of the iEsthetical affec- tions ; and there embodies itself with all ideals, models, forms, and structures, scenes, figures, movements and music — but all in vain: borne 248 AUTOLOGY. on by the next current from the heart, it flows out, and becomes a reli- gious affection, under the name of Assimilation to the divine, and as such forms the fifth class of religious affections. g. Finally, JReverentialness, itself religious, as an element, the last and highest of the elemental affections, set out, and determining all the preceding elements into itself, passed through and mingled itself with all the existing orders of determinate affections as the last impulse and outflow of the fountain of the heart ; and going beyond all the rest, ex* panded itself into the order of the Religious affections, a's the last and highest of all the orders, completing all the heart and" all the world of human affections. h. But not content to be the fount and impulse of a distinct order of determinate affections, it pressed on through its own order, until it comes out as a threefold, intensified, religious affection, Tinder the name and nature of Devotedness to the Divine. Here it forms the last class of its own order of religious affections, and is the last, highest, and intensest of all the affections. i. It was reverentialness, to begin with ; it then became the order of religious affections, the last and highest order of affections, and then condensed and centred itself as the last and highest class in that order, with the name and nature of Devotedness to the Divine. j. Thus it appears that man is pre-eminently a religious being ; all the affections of the heart are completely and inseparably woven together. They each enter into the others : they are distinguishable, but not sep- arated the one from the other ; no one exists without the help of all the rest, and all exist by the combination of each into one whole. Their interfacings, and intertwinings, and interbraidings run in every direction, through and through each other, yet each and all work themselves out in the end as .religious affections, and all thus become religious. k. In their original, elemental state, the affections all appear as nat- ural ; but passing through one another, and through the several deter- minate orders, they all come out spiritual. They began as merely onto- logical or constitutive of being ; they end as spiritual not only, but as religious, and show that religiousness is wrought into the whole struc- ture and being of the heart. So that a right and a healthy heart is re- ligious by nature, while a bad and a wrong heart is irreligious. Second. a. The affectional nature being complete and full-orbed, without any conscience, and no trace of an ethical quality being anywhere found in it, it turns out from this view that the conscience is a distinct faculty, separate from the heart and all its affections, having a nature, position, and office of its own. THE AFFECTIONS. 249 b. There is no ethical element in this natural and spontaneous action of the affections. This is obvious from the fact that there is no voli- tional element in them. They do not choose, but simply crave, and therefore they are not free and responsible actions of the will, but only appetitive actions of the affections. They do not discern the moral quality of states, or acts, or things, but only desire or loathe them ; and therefore they are not ethical acts of the conscience, but only coveting acts of desire or greed put forth by the affections. Neither the will nor the conscience is any part of the affections of the heart ; and conse- quently there is n'ot and cannot be any ethical element in the actions of the affections in themselves considered. c. The guilt and innocence of a person with a bad or a good state of heart, i. e., with his affections in a selfial or selfish state, will be dis- cussed in the chapter on " Heart Questions," and also when we reach the examination of the conscience, in Part IV. Suffice it here, that the difference between the affections and the conscience, and between sim- ple religiousness and pure conscientiousness is clearly made out. Third. a. The proof of the immortality of the soul that here comes out of itself, anj. by none of our seeking, is most gratifying. Every affection of the heart, elemental or determinate, demands immortality. This is a separate and independent proof, standing by itself, and all unconnected with the conscience, — or that moral law of man's nature which implies a lawgiver, and demands a judgment and an immortality. b. This proof of immortality is the simple voice of nature uttering her own wants in her own language. Every element of the heart speaks, and demands immortality ; for every element of the heart has not only its own inborn yearning, but, as we have seen over and over again, has experimented directly and indirectly in all possible forms of worldly affection, and found them wanting, unable to hold or satisfy them ; nay, these determinate affections themselves join in the cry of the elemental affection, and call out for immortality, and demand it. c. As sure as the Mississippi flows, with its many tributary streams, to the ocean, so surely does the-great river of the heart flow to immortality ; and " this bank and shoal of time " is as incapable of holding back and finding room for the heart's affections as is the continent, through which the Mississippi rolls, of damming back or holding its many, and mighty, and ever-flowing, and ever-augmenting waters. d. The river of the soul must flow somewhere ; it cannot stop amidst the fountains where it starts, but must flood out, and in sweeping onward in its course must be either a' Niger or a Nile ; it must lose itself in the sands of the desert of annihilation, or it must move on to the 32 250 AUTOLOGY. ocean of immortal existence beyond this world. All nature and all souls revolt at the former, and all hearts demand the latter. e. But if there is any proof of a uniform law of demand and supply in the fact that the stomach being 1 formed for food, food is provided for it, or in the fact that the lungs being formed for inhaling air, air is pro- vided for them ; or if the formation of the eye betokens light, and objects to be seen, the ear sound, the taste flavor, the smell odor, and the ear something to be heard ; if there is any proof of a uniform law in these things, then also in the crying out of the affections of the heart, every one of them, of every element and of every order, after* an immortal life, there must be proof that there is an immortal life provided for that heart. /. Desirefulness, as an elemental affection, after running through all forms of worldly affection, comes out at last on the utmost verge of mortality, and calls, with its many great and famishing spiritual wants, for immortality. g. Trustfulness in like manner comes forth, after winding through all the mazes of human affection, and calls aloud for God, and for the super- natural, to fill its wants. h. Hopefulness, after shedding divine light through all the labyrinths of human feeling and pursuit, rises over all, and calls into the depths of the unknown future for immortality to fulfil its ardent expectations. i. Cheerfulness, after breathing like a sweet and gentle breeze through all the gardens of human affections, and evoking freshness and odors from them all, comes to the verge, and looks and yearns with fond anticipations for heaven and an immortal happiness. j. Aspiringness goes through all the forms of human affection and pursuit, elevating, exhorting, and adorning all ; but after passing- through all activities, achievements, and attainments in real and in ideal life, it also rises unblessed above them all, and struggles and calls for an assimilation to the divine, in an immortal state. k. And reverentialness in turn finds no object for religiousness in all human affections that can satisfy its devotional feelings ; and raising it- self at the extremity and summit of its own order of religious affections, as upon nature's own last and highest promontory and loftiest altar, offers itself in devotedness to the, divine. Here it calls on Him whose dwelling is on high, in light, which none can approach, for immortality and eternal life. And to all these cries there come back voices, sweet voices, with promises of relief and assurances of life. I. Now, what are these voices to the soul of man ? Are they shouts from the solid shore of reality, or echoes from the empty depths of nothingness ? Are they calls from heaven, or are they mockings from hell ? Does the heart but torment itself with vain yearnings and impo- THE AFFECTIONS. 251 tent cries for immortality ? Has God made life so malignant, or has nature made it so abortive ? Is heaven so cruel, is nature so weak ? Is God inviting, or Satan tormenting, by these wants of the universal and undivided heart of man ? m. Does man sit on the utmost verge of his mortal existence, and cry for immortality, with all the affections and wants of his whole heart, only to make doleful reverberations in the vacant future and the dark annihilation before him? 0, no ; it cannot be ! Nature is not so base, God is not so malevolent, nor scarcely Satan himself so infernal ; there must, therefore, be an immortal state. n. And thus, involuntarily and spontaneously, unsought and unin- terested, arises out of this exhibition of the nature, structure, and func- tions of the affections, a strong, clear, and independent proof of the immortality of the soul, and of its destinies in a future state of existence. CHAPTER V. HEART QUESTIONS. SECT. I. THE HEART. THE SEAT OF MORAL CHARACTER. a. What is here meant is, that if the heart is pure, then the man is pure, has a right moral character ; and if the heart is impure, then the man is impure, and has a wrong moral character. b. Moral character does not consist in .having a heart, however full of susceptibilities, or in having a great intellect, however broadly it may comprehend, and however clearly it may define, moral principles ; nor yet in a free will, which has power with absolute autocracy to choose the right or the wrong ; nor does it consist in the possession of a con- science, however intensely it may feel, or however powerfully it may enforce moral distinctions. These faculties give free agency and account- ability, but they are only faculties constitutive of man as an account- able being. They are not his moral character, but they are his capability of having a character, either good or bad. The heart is the seat of moral character. The fact of having a heart as simply a constitu- tive faculty of the mind does not give character any more than the 252 AUTOLOGY. fact of having a will, an intellect, and a conscience, gives, character. They all, as original faculties, constitute the man. c. But when they begin to operate, then they form character, and the character which they form is moulded oat of and moulded into the affections of the heart, and embodied in them. The moral features of the man, nay, the whole soul, spirit, and life of the man embody themselves in the affections of the heart. Not only moral character, as running through all, but all other phases of character, appear moulded in the plastic forms of the affections of the heart. d. In the individual affections appear all the traits of individual life arising from the self-sustentative, the self-defensive, the self-acquisitive, and the self-annunciative affections. So also we find the character em- bodied in the social affections, viz., in the marital, kindred, and amical affections. So in the patriotic affections, we find patriotic character in its various developments, as raceal, local, cultal, and national affeqtions. In like manner, the philanthropic affections become the embodiment of philanthropic character in all the forms of humane, and useful, and benev- olent, and public-spirited actions. The assthetical affections also draw to themselves all the characteristics of their votaries, and embody the artistic character of the poet, the artist, and the philosopher. And lastly, the religious affections draw in and embody the religious char- acter of all devout and pious people. Thus the affections are the seat, the depository of all character — of individual, of social, of patriotic, of philanthropic, of assthetic, and of religious character ; and in such proportions as they are cultivated and developed, they all combine to make, shape, mark, and characterize the man. e. But over and above all, the Heart is the seat, the depository, the embodiment, the mould, and living expression of the moral character of the man, as good or bad. In it the affections are disposed of according as the law of the reason, under the moral sanction of the conscience, is enforced, or not enforced, by the will. If the rule of the highest truth, as discovered by the reason and enjoined as right and obligatory by the conscience, be enforced by the will, then will the heart be moulded, as clay in the hands of the potter, into a pure and good moral character. But if this law of the reason and this injunction of the conscience be not enforced by the will, then will the affections of the heart be moulded into an impure and a bad moral character. f. The man may be true to one part of his affectional nature, and false to the rest. He may be true to the patriotic affections, but false to the philanthropic affections. He may be a good husband, true to kindred and friends, but be a bad citizen, no patriot, and no philan- thropist at all. He may be an artist, and most devoted to all the sesthetical affections, and yet be false to all social and domestic relations, THE AFFECTIONS. 253 no patriot, no philanthropist, no worshipper of God ; but, on the. con- trary, he may be an atheist, and altogether destitute of any moral principle whatever. So also may a man be a religionist, a very zealot for his worship and his church, and at the same time be false to all social, all patriotic, all philanthropic, and all sesthetical affections ; be destitute of any rational rule of life, and utterly devoid of all conscience, all justice, all mercy, and all faith : such a man may, in the full exercise of his religious affections, be a Jesuit, a fanatic, a persecutor, a tyrant, and a demon : he has religiosity, but no religion ; he has a murder- ous Jesuitism, but no Jesus Christ ; a worshipfulness, but no Chris- tianity. g. Let it never be forgotten, therefore, that while all moral character, , and all character, good or bad, has its seat in the heart, still all right, pure, and good moral character is formed in the heart, and of the plastic affections of the heart, by the free will. The will, by whatever power, person, grace, or spirit it may be influenced from without, forms the 'character in and by means of enforcing the highest law of the reason, as that law is sanctioned and enjoined, by the highest ethical command of the conscience, upon and in the whole heart and all its affections, as the rule of duty and the standard of right. These are the natural forces of the mind, by virtue of which it is a mind, and by which it is respon- sible. The seat of all moral character is the heart ; rather, the clay out of which all moral character is moulded is the heart with all its affec- tions. The artist that moulds it is the Free Will or personality of the man himself. The ideal after which he moulds is the law and conception of his own reason, and that whether derived from itself or from revelation. The sanction as to the perfectness of the model, and the impulse and sense of obligation to his moulding it, is given by the conscience. This gives right moral character. The material into which the ideal is thus wrought is the heart, with all its affections ; and when done it is the character of the man. h. The heart never acts alone, without the command or permission of the will ; consequently the heart is always the seat, the depository, or the embodiment of moral character, either good or bad. Could the heart act alone, without the will's commanding the law of reason and conscience, and without the permission of the will to act on its own impulse, it would hove a character, to be sure, but no moral character. It would be individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, assthetical, or religious, according to the proportions in which these elements were mixed, but it would have no ethical qualities, as right or wrong. i. However, it is not possible that the heart should be without moral character, for all its movements, all its susceptibilities, all its emotions, all its desires or aversions, are, and take place, either by the authority 254 AUTOLOGY. of the will commanding obedience to the law of reason and conscience, or by the permissions .of the will allowing the various affections of the heart to take their own spontaneous course. Thus the heart always, of necessity, has a moral character, either good or bad, and man is always, of necessity, responsible for the moral character of his heart. All right and good moral character is formed by the choice of the will, enforcing the law of the reason and conscience in thus governing and moulding the affections of the heart. And all wrong moral character is formed by the choice of the will, either choosing positively that which is wrong, or permitting the heart and all its various affections to run in their own wild spontaneity, according to their pleasure. SECT. II. WHAT IS DEPRAVITY, INSANITY, DEMENTIA, DEMONIA- CAL POSSESSIONS? WHAT ARE THE CAUSES OF THE ABOVE- NAMED STATES, AND OF CASTING OUT DEVILS ? I. What is Depravity ? a. Depravity is that state of the affections which in the foregoing pages we have called the selfish state, as opposed to the selfial state. b. The heart, with all its manifold classes and manifestations of affec- tion, is the seat of all susceptibility, and is consequently the part of man's nature liable to temptation, perversion, and depravity. c. We have in the preceding chapter shown that the heart is the seat of moral character, and that out of its affections all character of which man is capable is to be moulded. This proves that the affections are susceptible, that they may be affected by influence from without, for good or for evil. It is the susceptibility, the impressibility of the affec- tions, that renders man liable to temptation, and consequently to perver- sion and depravation. Evil thoughts and evil intents, evil pleasures and evil pursuits, may be presented to the affections of the heart, or to the appetites and passions of the body, which is in a state of identity with the mind, and these may be excited to undue activity, and be wrought into a state which is called " inordinate." This is temptation, and this temptation may be so often repeated and so cunningly and persuadingly presented as to pervert the heart, and seduce the will, and silence the conscience, and blind the reason, and thus carry the whole man captive into sin. d. This process of demoralization may be carried on so long as to pro- duce a permanent state of the affections, in which the heart is fully set to do evil. Now, this state of the heart is called Depravity, and it is originally produced in a way analogous to that above given. A paren- tage tl^is depraved will of course give an offspring similarly depraved at their birth. THE AFFECTIONS. 255 e. What is a pure heart, and what is a depraved heart, are questions which have already been discussed and answered in the preceding- chap- ters. In them the elemental affections, and all the orders of determinate affections, with their various and manifold classes and manifestations, have been given and set forth in their selfial and in their selfish states. We have seen in the foregoing discussion an exhibition of the heart or affections, that they may have two states or conditions ; viz., the selfial, normal, or healthy state, and the selfish, abnormal, or depraved state ; that the former is good and right, and the latter evil and wrong. The former is a state of rectitude, and the latter a state of depravity. The former is a state of innocence, the latter is a state of sin. Of the former the scriptures say it is " very good ; " of the latter, that it is " an evil heart of unbelief, which departs from the living God." We see, therefore, that the heart is temptable and plastic, and consequently the seat of moral character ; for it is sajd of a wicked man, " Thy heart is not right in the sight of God; " and to those called to repentance it is said, " With the heart man believeth. unto righteousness;" and the Saviour said, " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." While thus a good and pure heart has the state which in the preceding analysis we have called selfial, a depraved heart has that which in the same analysis is called selfish. Of the last it is said, "thy heart is not right in the sight of God. f. And this brings us to the question, Is the heart of man, as it now is, depraved ? The consciousness and history of every man must estab- lish the fact that the heart is depraved. Mixed, and compounded, and confused as are all its various states of affections, the selfish state pre- dominates, and vitiates the whole ; for any mingling of the selfish with the selfial states would corrupt the heart as a whole. This is man's actual condition. There are none in whom all the states of the heart are as bad as they can be, none in whom they are all good ; yet since it is a fact that evil and selfish states of the affections do exist in all, it fol- lows that all are depraved ; and while all are not as bad as they can be, yet all are depraved, selfish, and fallen, so that there is none good ; no, not one. The man is fallen and depraved. The whole heart has suffered and is a wreck, which, like a foundered ship, cannot restore itself, and is unseaworthy. The ship is a total wreck, not in that there is nothing left of it, but in that it is unseaworthy, and may not be trusted to bear its freight and passengers. So man is totally depraved in that he also is unseaworthy, and may not be trusted with his own life's voyage, his own soul's freight, nor relied upon to bring it safe to eternal life, holi- ness, and justification before God. 256 AUTOLOGY II. Insanity, Dementia, and Demoniacal Possession, as distinguished from Depravity, and from one another. a. Insanity, however caused, is purely a physical disease. It is a disease of the nerves and brain as physical oi'gans. Insanity is there- fore distinguished from depravity in that the latter is a vicious state of the mind itself, while the former is wholly a diseased state of the bodily organs of the mind. While, however, insanity is a physical disease, yet it manifests itself in mental derangement. It consists, as such, in. a want of harmony or balance between the governing and the acting faculties of the mind. ' To speak in terms, insanity is a disharmony between the will, the intellect, and the conscience, as the § knowing and governing faculties of the mind on the one hand, and the affections, which are the acting faculties of the mind, on the other; or, to recur to the classification given in Part I., at the very commencement of this book, — the will is the king or the executive of the mind, the intellect is the legislature, and the conscience is the judiciary, while the affec- tions are the people ; yet all form an indissoluble unity in one personality. b. Now, Depravity is a revolt of the affections of the heart against the reign of the reason, the conscience, and the will, while the nerves and brain, as physical organs of the mind, remain healthy and sound ; but Insanity is a revolt of the same affections against the same reason, conscience, and will, while the brain and nerves, as physical organs of the mind, are unhealthy, unsound, and diseased. III. a. Dementia is also a disease of the nerves and brain, as phys- ical organs through which the mind manifests itself. It differs in very marked particulars from the manifestations of insanity, though both are physical diseases of the nerves and brain ; they are therefore kindred, if not identical, differing only in degree. It is a fact that dementia often exists without insanity, and that insanity often exists for a long period without dementia, though it frequently terminates in it. b. Insanity differs from dementia in that insanity is a disease of that part of the nerves and brain which stands connected with the affections of the heart, while dementia is a diseased state of that portion of the nerves and brain which stands connected with the intellect. Insanity proper implies, for the most part, a sound brain and nerve for the intel- lect, but a diseased nerve and brain for the affections, while dementia requires a diseased nerve and brain for the intellect, leaving the brain and nerve for the affections either diseased or not, as the case may be. c. Insanity differs from dementia also in that, while dementia is pas- sive, insanity is wholly active. Dementia is privative, insanity is ex- aggerative. The former is weakness, the latter is power ; the one is infirmity^the other is frenzy. Dementia is imbecility, insanity is mad- TIIE AFFECTIONS. 257 ness ; the former weeps and mourns,. the latter raves and curses. Yet they often run together, and manifest themselves in mingled and varying phenomena. When insanity has utterly exhausted the mind, then it be- comes dementia. IV. a. Demoniacal Possession differs from both insanity and de- mentia, and also from depravity, in that it is neither a disease of the mind nor of the body, but the actual inhabiting of the mind and body of a human being by a demoniacal spirit. b. It must, however, be observed that it is not possible for demoniacal possession to take place, except when the person is either insane or demented, or both. When the nerves and brain connected with the intellect, or with the affections, or with both, are so diseased as to cause in the first case insanity, or in the second and third dementia, then, and then only, can a person be possessed with the devil. A sound mind in a sound body is never possessed with the devil. c. And this brings us to discriminate between depravity and Satanic possession. When, as in the case of Judas, " Satan enters into " a man, whose nerves and brain are in all respects sound and healthy, the effect is simply, temptation and depravity. He does not dwell there and take possession of the man, but tempts him and stirs up his evil passions, stimulates and depraves • him more and more. Indeed, Satan cannot take away from such a person the mastery of himself; but when he finds a person whose brain and nerves are diseased and broken down, either as they stand connected with his intellect, or his heart, or both, then he can boldly enter in without resistance, and reign there, and use all the faculties of the man for his own malicious purposes. d. Depravity implies a sound state of the brain and nerves, as physi- cal organs, while insanity and dementia imply a diseased state of these physical organs. Demoniacal possession, on the contrary, while it is neither a physical nor a mental disease, yet implies the former, and, as human nature is, the latter also, and is an inhabiting of the soul by Satan himself, which in its maddened and demented condition he easily masters and controls. V. Causes of the above States. a. Insanity is the same physical disease of the brain and the nerves in every case, yet a disease produced by various causes. b. First, it may be produced by some physical injury of the brain and nerve, by violence from without. Second, it may be produced by some strong excitement or anxiety, which damages the nerves and brain. Third, it may be produced by wrong, misfortune, insult, sorrow, or shame, which are so intense and protracted as to weaken the nerves and 33 258 AUTOLOGY. brain. Fourth, it may be produced by the indulgence of evil, bitter, morbid, malicious, revengeful and vicious feelings, which, by their intense and habitual, and long-continued exercise, at length injure the nerves and brain, as physical organs, and thus produce insanity. Oft-repeated causes like these gradually weaken more and more the intellect, the con- science, and the will, — i. e., weaken that part of the brain and nervous system through which they act, and thus the man becomes incurably and hopelessly insane or demented. c. This is Satan's opportunity ; the mind is thoroughly deranged. Its faculties are not destroyed, but out of gear, out of joint, out of harmony, and the whole machinery of the mind creaks, and grates, and groans, and chafes in frenzy and dementitude. The whole mind, both as to its physical organs and its spiritual faculties, is in disorder and in ruin. Now Satan, enters, having nought to hinder him, and sits and reigns amidst the ruins of the mind, as wild beasts, serpents, and satyrs prowl, and coil, and hiss, and howl, and revel amidst the beauteous, but broken ruins of some ancient temple. It is obvious that while this condition is one of calamity, yet the causes of it may have involved more or less of personal guilt; for much of insanity is caused by want of self-control and evil self-indulgences. cl. The object of Satan's possession is to find some kind of embodi- ment in which he may do evil, mislead, ■ torment, and show his triumph. If a soul, overtaken with that condition of nerves and brain which renders satanic possession possible, is yet in sin, then Satan by possessing such a soul has dominion over it forever. He can use such a soul, and lead it captive at his will. Satan does not care to have a thoroughly selfish and depraved man insane, for he can serve himself better with him as he is, with his heart fully set in him to do evil. Nor does he need to possess him more fully than he does in order to have him do his wicked work. Satan will not waste strength or time on those who serve him with all their acts and strength freely, but he will enter into some hopelessly crazy or demented person, whether that person be innocent or guilty in his condition, and use him to do his devilish deeds of mischief, and murder, and sin, and death. Sometimes the object of Satan in possessing the insane and the demented seems to be only to gratify his own malice in torturing and tormenting them. e. The most melancholy of all places is amidst the wreck of minds in a mad-house. Good men, who become insane, often are profane and obscene. This is doubtless the work of the devil, as he delights to in- sult and profane God's name and law. Also Satan delights in the ex- hibition of impotent profaneness and vulgarity, just as depraved persons delight to hear children use profane words and talk of things indelicate. /. One of the most painful facts connected with all these states of THE AFFECTIONS. 259 mental disorder is, that the greater part of the persons so affected are melancholy, miserable, and wretched in the extreme. Many of them suffer unspeakable horrors. This is doubtless the work of the devil. There are, no doubt, both physical and mental causes that create the liability and enhance the degree of pain ; but that the devil possesses many of them, and makes them satanic as himself, and then tortures them with their own madness, it is impossible to doubt. VI. Casting out Devils. a. . It was doubtless such as these that Christ relieved and restored when upon the earth. He cast Satan out of their helpless souls, and healed their diseases of brain and nerve, and restored them to their right mind. So would he do now, if upon the earth, to the same class of characters, many of whom are hopelessly crazy and raving in our insane asylums. These four classes, viz., the Depraved, the Insane, the Demented, and the Possessed with the Devil, will explain all the cases mentioned in the New Testament. Out of the merely depraved, i. e., those who were wilfully and habitually wicked and vile in the state of their hearts and in the intents of their lives, Christ, by his grace and spirit, producing regeneration, cast out Satan, and entered and possessed their hearts himself, and filled them with love, joy, and peace in the Holy Ghost. b. But with regard to the insane, the demented, and those possessed with devils, Christ first healed their bodily diseases, whatever they were, and thus cast out the devils from them. In all cases, these per- sons had disease of the nerves and brain, and in many cases they had also impotency, epilepsy, palsy, and other disorders, growing out of it; and often they were deaf, dumb, blind, or lame, in addition thereto. In all these cases Christ healed the physical disease, and thereby cured the insanity and the dementia, dethroned Satan, and sometimes, if not always, converted their souls also, by renewing their hearts from depravity throjugh the Holy Spirit, leading them to repentance, and forgiving their sins. Indeed, he declared this healing of the disease and this converting of the soul as simultaneous, if not identical, when he said to his accu- sers, " Whether it is easier to say, 'Thy sins are forgiven thee/ or to say, ' Arise, take up thy bed and walk ? ' " c. Satanic possessions were, then, neither the disease nor the cause, of the disease which Christ cured ; but he first cured the disease, and by that means cast out the devil, for the devil could not possess a sound mind in a sound body. Depravity is a spiritual disease of the spirit of man which can be cured. only by a divine and spiritual remedy — the grace of God. Insanity and dementia are physical diseases of the nerves and brain, which make it possible for Satan to possess the soul. These 260 . AUTOLOGY. physical diseases of the nerves and brain Christ healed by miracle, and then the demoniacal spirits could no more inhabit them. Thus was the Insanity cured, the Dementia cured, and the devil cast out by curing a physical disease. d. Are the insane and the demented possessed with the devil now ? The reply is, that they may be or may not be. We have no reason to suppose that all insane and demented persons were possessed with the devil in Christ's time; but some were, and so it may be now. . e. It may be added that Satan has not always the same reasons for possessing" men that he sometimes has. It is exceedingly probable that the great multitude of satanic possessions in the time of Christ was occasioned by the attempt of Satan to imitate and make a mock of the incarnation of God in the person of Christ, and thus to defeat its effect, as the magicians in Egypt imitated the miracles of Moses that they might destroy their effect. Satan incarnates himself in the souls and bodies of men to do any devilish deed thereby ; in Christ's time he did it to mock the great incarnation of God in man, and to fight against him, Christ cast out Satan to relieve suffering, and prove his own divinity. SECT. III. IS MAN RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS DEPRAVITY, HIS INSAN- ITY, HIS DEMENTIA, AND FOR DEMONIACAL POSSESSION? a. The reply to these questions is short. Depravity is a derange- ment of the heart, while insanity and dementia are diseases of the body; hence for ' the first man is responsible, while for the last he is not. As for demoniacal possession, it can never take place except when the body is diseased and the mind crazed or disordered, and consequently does not involve the man in responsibility. b. It must here be particularly observed that there are at least three kinds of answerableness or responsibility by which men are held before God and their fellow-men. First, we are, held responsible by the law of natural liability to suffer evil consequences, as when a child inherits a vicious disposition or a diseased body from parents; second,- we are held answerable when we sustain representative relations to those who have acted for us, and involved us. thereby in responsibility for what they have done ; and, third, we are held accountable when we have done wrong ourselves, by our own free and intelligent act, either by directly violating a moral law or by adopting as our own what our representatives have done for us, or by choosing, indulging, sanctioning, and making our own the vicious disposition of the mind or passions of the body which we have inherited from our ancestors. Now, in each of these respects man is responsible for his depravity of heart, though he THE AFFECTIONS. 261 is personally guilty of actual transgression and sin only in the cases named under the third head above mentioned. In the first two he is answerable and punishable by the law of nature and of representative liability, yet not guilty for a personal act. In the third class of acts above given he is personally guilty, and punishable for personal guilt. c. Taking up these questions in tfieir order, we reply in brief, first, Man is responsible for his depraved and evil heart. But was not his depraved and evil heart born with him ? Yes, and therefore it is he, and he is it. Man is identical with his depravity ; the whole human race were a unity and an identity in their original parents, and what they were they necessarily communicated ; their posterity were of necessity like themselves. When the original parents became depraved, they inevitably transmitted their depravity to their descendants. Thus all men; being identified with their depraved parents, are themselves de- praved, and have upon them the consequences of their parents' sin as a natural inheritance. Thus are they actually, by a law of nature, held responsible for the depravity which they derived from their original parents, and thus have they received the. consequences of that answera- bleness in the fact of their own inherited and present existing depravity. But are they held responsible at the bar of God for being thus depraved ? Yes ; for unless renewed by divine grace, as all who die in infancy un- doubtedly are, they are, by reason of their depravity, destitute of that holiness without which no man can see the Lord. d. But is not the depravity born with me rather my calamity than my fault ? It is undoubtedly the calamity, and not the fault, of any human being that he is born depraved ; yet that calamity induces the soul thus born to become a transgressor, and as certainly makes him one as the envenomed sack and tooth of a serpent make him harmful and dangerous; and as the venomous nature of the serpent justifies his destruction, precisely so will the depravity which is born with any soul make it necessary and right* in behalf of God's creatures^ that that soul be confined where it can do no harm. Thus is every soul liable to suffer, and is so far forth answerable for its depravity. Serpents are destro} 7 ed because they are serpents, and are dangerous, and that whether they have done any act of harm or not. So depraved souls are held answerable and confined because they are depraved, and not be- cause they have as yet done any act of wrong ; public safety demands it. In this way also, and to this extent, the Insane, the Demented, and those having Demoniacal Possession, are held responsible ; i. e. they are confined both for the defence and safety of others and for their own good. e. But can that be my personal act and guilt which I have not first chosen ? The reply is, that I am answerable as much for my state of 262 AUTOLOGY. soul as for my acts of choice, and as much for what I am as for what I do ; for even though I did not choose or originate it in the first place, nor bring it upon myself, yet my state, or what I am, becomes my personal act and guilt if I choose and adopt it afterwards. The free will must inevitably take free and responsible action in reference to every state or emotion of the heart. Every sou? which has arrived at sufficient matu- rity is bound to choose or refuse, accept or renounce, every involuntary affection or state of the heart which it has or finds in itself ; and as a matter of fact, it does take responsible action in reference to them by choosing or refusing every one of these affections, or states of heart, and is therefore responsible for them, and guilty or innocent, as the case may be. By its own nature the free will chooses ; and if it does not choose'to surrender the evil heart to Christ in the first instance, then it chooses to adopt and sanction it as its own. And this all persons have done, and thus all souls- arc a thousand times guilty for the depravity of their hearts. f. But is man accountable for his insanity and dementia, and for being possessed with the devil ? The reply is, that no man can be held re- sponsible for these things, except for causing them ; they may be pro- duced, as physical diseases, by causes over which, in their incipiency, the man had control, and which he might have restrained. Thus insanity and dementia are often nothing but indulged and developed depravity, ' for such depravity may well produce physical disease ; and satanic pos- session is only the completeness of this process, the giving over of the soul unto Satan, to work all uncleanness with greediness. Depravity, in- dulged, vitiates and debauches the whole mind ; it not only corrupts the whole heart, blinds the reason, blunts the conscience, and effeminates the will, but often reduces the brain and nervous system of the man to a wreck, in which he is given over to Satan, and to "a reprobate mind, to believe a lie, that he might be damned." Tn such a state he is fully pos- sessed of the devil. Depravity, insanity, ,and demoniacal -possession seem here to run together into one moral ruin. g. That an indulged and adopted depravity is a condition of soul for which men are not only answerable, but guilty, has been shown ; but how far depravity thus indulged and chosen may be the cause of insanitj', it is, in some cases, not easy to tell. Undoubtedly insanit} r , in most cases, is brought on by some physical, social, or moral cause 3ying back of acts of indulgence, or by some casualty over which the individual has no control. Yet in many cases insanity has been brought on by direct in- dulgence of evil tempers and passions, by ambition or perverted religious excitement, by the imprudence and self-abandonment of the person him- self, and in its incipient stages might, by rigorous self-control, have been avoided. Then, in other cases insanity is but long cultivated and in- THE AFFECTIONS. 263 dulged vice and depravity, which carries with it the guilt of the person so self-ruined. The devil possesses such souls after they have, under his influence, destroyed themselves, and he is only completing their choice and carrying out their will by so doing. In an unknown number of cases of insanity, of dementia, and of satanic possession, '.' sin lieth at the door" of the soul itself, which is in such state. SECT. IV. THE HEART THE SEAT OF SALVATION. a. While the will, with the conscience, is the responsible and co-opera- tive cause of salvation, and the Holy Spirit of God is the gracious and efficient cause of salvation, the heart is the susceptible subject upon which these causes operate, the receptacle of their products, the em- bodiment of their effects, and the seat of salvation. The heart, with its affections, is that part of man's nature upon which the Holy Spirit oper- ates, by the truth and through the reason and conscience, in the work of regeneration. We have seen in what the selfial and selfish state of the heart consists. We have seen what is a pure and what is an impure heart, what is a virtuous and what a depraved state of the heart. We have seen that the heart is susceptible, plastic, and impressible ; that it may be tempted to sin and perverted to depravity. b. We now say that the same natural properties of the heart render it also capable of receiving and being affected by influences adapted to purify and renovate it. It is the heart, therefore, which is changed and purified by divine grace, and in it all the completed work of grace ulti- mately embodies itself. The heart is, as seen in Sect. I., the seat of moral character ; hence, when the character of the man is made good, it is embodied and shaped into the affections of the heart. c. The truth, to be sure, is addressed to the reason, and then the rea- son presents it to the conscience, and the conscience, in turn, enjoins the obligation to obey it upon the will, and then the will seeks to enforce it upon the affections of the heart. The heart revolts and disobeys. The conscience gives a deep and intense conviction of the depraved state of the heart, and of the guiltiness of the will. At this point the will should surrender the heart, with all its rebellious affections, as a prisoner of war to Christ ; and here the Holy Spirit strives by the presentation of the things of Christ, i. e., his love, his holiness, his sympathy for souls, his dying agony, and his ever-living intercessions, and thereby softens the heart to repentance, melts it into contrition, and wins it to obedience and love. In this state the free soul comes to Jesus, as the atonement, for the forgiveness of its sins, repents, prays, renounces sin, submits, consecrates itself unto Christ and his cross, and finds forgive- ness through his death. Thus is the heart changed through the quick- 264 AUTOLOGY. ening of the Holy Ghost, and thus is the soul forgiven through Christ's atonement, and the whole man is reconciled to God ; and all this work of regeneration, of conversion, of prayer, faith, consecration, and- practi- cal godliness embodies itself ultimately in the plastic forms of the affec j tions of the heart, shaping it all into the image, and filling it all with the spirit of God. d. While, therefore, it is the clear discernment of the truth by the reason, and the strong injunction of the conscience, and the free choice of the will, which constitute the several steps to life, yet it is God's spirit that changes the heart, and it is with the heart that man believeth unto righteousness, while with the mouth confession is made unto sal- vation ; and it is in the heart that all the state of grace ultimately em- bodies itself in the form of renewed and purified moral character. SECT. V. HEART-POWER. a. Heart-power is the involuntary behest of affection and love, such as a mother feels for her child. It rises in brute life above mere natural affinity, into animal sensibility and instinctive attachment. But in the human heart it rises to the range of personal love and spiritual sympathy. It takes the character of good or evil, benevolent or malign, genial or ferocious, according as the selfial or selfish state predominates. It takes on moral character as right or wrong, and makes the person guilty or innocent, as it comes under the allowance or the rejection of the will. b. To give an account of the elements or the amount of heart-power would be to re-enumerate the whole catalogue and contents of the affecr tions, both elemental and determinate, with all their orders, classes, manifestations and modes. They all combine to give heart-power, and usually there are force and strength in the man just in proportion as he has heart or affectional power — i. e., in proportion to the amount and quality of his affectional nature. c. The whole range of the individual affections underlies, as a sub- stratum and support, all the other affections, and upon them are built the social affections, with all their scope, delicacy, and power. Upon these are built the patriotic affections, with their enlarged field and various applications. Then over these, and embracing all, are the phil- anthropic affections, comprehending all human interests, and carrying individual interest and life to each. Rising above these are the aastheti- cal affections, with their ethereal glow and lofty range; and still over all are the religious affections, springing out of all and combining each as an element in the one result of love to God and good will to men. d. Now, in each of these there is a peculiar power. In the individual THE AFFECTIONS. 265 affections reigns that "first law of nature, self-preservation," and there reigns all the love of gain, of honor, and of power. In the social affec- tions all love and all sympathy, all tender and all passionate attachments, love and hate, joy and tears, ecstasy and desperation^ are found, and their power is almost without limit. In the patriotic affections there is power to command to battle and to death ; it overmasters all love of home, of kindred, and of wealth, and lays them all on the altar, a sacri- fice and an offering to the country. e. The philanthropic affections comprehend and engross all in one brotherhood, and sacrifice country and nationality whenever they con- flict with humanity. The sesthetical affections rise over all like a beauti- ful and heaven-ascending exhalation, and feed on. all that is highest, and noblest, and most beautiful in the whole universe. Their power reaches every human being ; all souls bow before the spell of beauty. The religious affections sum up all, and are most controlling of all, and are capable of both good and evil. /. A selfial and a selfish state are possible to all the affections. The religious affections in their right state have a divine power to control, command, lift up, and purify and bless. In their selfish state they are bigotry, persecution, murder, and death. So the eesthetical affections may be a lifting power, ethereal and divine, or they may be of the earth, and not only earthy, but iniquitous. And each and every class sways a sceptre for good or for evil, and may reign for life or for death. g. The hearts of men are the great seething and boiling sea of human life, interest, and action. Whoever can master it has subtlety and might, and may make it bear his bark to wealth, and honor, and glory. But whosoever is mastered by it is driven by its storms and tempests to shipwreck, disaster, and death. h. Heart-power is both individual and universal ; in the first case it makes a strong, forceful man effective for good or evil ; in the second it is the vast ocean of human loves, hates, prejudices, passions, fears, hopes, sympathies and antagonisms, \joys and sorrows, that beat, and dash, and boil, and hiss, forever and ever. 34 PART III. THE INTELLECT DIVISI ONI. HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO KNOW? CHAPTER I. WHAT ARE THE FACULTIES OF KNOWING ? a. Hitherto we have used the whole Intellect, with all its faculties, in investigating the Will and the Affections, as now, we are using it in dis- cussing the Intellect itself. b. It is manifest, therefore, that to doubt the trustworthiness of the faculties of the Intellect acting in their appropriate spheres, is to doubt their trustworthiness to examine their own trustworthiness. c. Hence any attempt to prove the validity of the faculties of the mind implies the absurdity of attempting to prove our own testimony . by our own testimony. d. As no man can establish his own honesty by his own assertion, so no intellect can prove its own trustworthiness by its own investigation of the trustworthiness of its own investigations. e. For the intellect that tries is the same that is tried ; the doub't that doubts is the same that may also doubt the doubting. /. The same mind is, at the same time, accused, accuser, witness, judge, jury, and executioner. g. Therefore the validity of our faculties is as surely above suspicion as it is above proof. We are not now discussing the validity, but the nature and office, of the faculties of the mind.- 26T 268 AUTOLOGY. h. The genesis and structure of the mind are, a§ a whole, as fol- lows : — First. These two Primordial Elements are found to exist, viz., — 1. Essential Activity, or Life. 2, Essential Intelligence, or Consciousness. Secondly. From these two Primordial Elements are formed, by com- bination and development, the whole mind, viz., — 1. The Will. 3. The Intellect. 2. The Affections. 4. The Conscience. All these combined . and embodied as one living unity in a human form constitute the personality of man. The discussion of the Intellect will arrange itself in the following manner : — A. What is the Consciousness? B. What is the Reason? C. What is the Sense? D. What is the Conscience? a. While the mind, as a whole, is made up of the Will, the Affec- tions, the Intellect, and the Conscience, — all constituting one living Personality, the Intellect proper consists of only the Consciousness and the Reason, with the Sense. b. The Conscience is also a knowing as well as a moralizing faculty ; for it discerns moral differences as well as enjoins moral obligations. We shall therefore give a brief outline of the conscience in this place, with the Intellect proper, reserving its full discussion for its own place, after the Reason is complete. c. The Consciousness has already been given, yet it will here be re-stated for greater clearness, and in order to give the Intellect as an entirety ; while the Intellect proper consists, of course, of only the Consciousness and the Reason, with the Sense. d. Yet consciousness enters into every faculty, as does the essential activity, and all the faculties are, in some respects, the inlets of knowl- edge to the mind. The Affections and the Will, as well as the Con- science, are also sources of knowledge, and are, so far forth, intellectual. e. But the Intellect, properly speaking, is confined to those faculties which grasp and cognize subjective and objective facts, and the prin- ciples and the ideas thence arising ; hence the Consciousness and the Reason, with the Sense, are the Intellect. f. The whole mind, with all its faculties, is more or less engaged in knowing ; hence the whole mind, with all its faculties, must be within THE INTELLECT. 269 the grasp of the Consciousness and the Reason, in order to self-knowl- edge, and a knowledge of the science of knowing. g. Therefore we here, at the beginning of the discussion of the Intel- lect, bring together the whole family of the faculties as. one unity. h. The Consciousness has already been given as a primordial element of the mind ; the Will has been given ; the Affections have been given : we now give the Consciousness anew, as a faculty of the Intellect, with the Reason, and the Sense, and the Conscience, that thus the whole mind, with all its faculties, may be seen to be at once in the embrace of the Consciousness, and within the comprehendings of the Reason. i. In order to arrive at the true nature and genesis of the Intellect proper, it must here be observed that we have already seen, Part I., Chapter I., that the two Primordial Elements of the mind are Essential Activity and Essential Intelligence, and that the former is the true source of the mind's beginning to act, and the latter of the mind's be- ginning to know. j. We have also found that the first faculty of the mind, the Will, is composed of these two Primordial Elements combined, and so combined as to produce other successive elements, which, by recombination with the preceding elements, complete the Will. k. We have seen that this Will, so completed, becomes the Sub- stance of the mind, in which other faculties, viz., the Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience, inhere. I. We have also found that the second faculty of the mind, viz., AUTOLOGY. as to come into intelligent consciousness through the Reason, which cognizes and often remembers them. g. Thus is dreaming, in the first instance, purely instinctive knowing. h. But these instinctive acts of the sensibility, the heart, or other organs of the body, moving spontaneously and involuntarily in the first instance, force themselves on the recognition of the Reason, and then excite in it thoughts, and reasonings, associations, and fancies, and imaginings, which it had never experienced, and which had never existed before. i. Thus dreaming has two stages. First, the sensibilities are wrought into action by the events of the day ; and that excited action is so strong that when the night comes on, and the Will and the Reason and the senses are asleep, it goes on involuntarily and instinctively, and compels the Reason to take cognizance of it, and often to remem- ber it. j. The second stage of dreaming is when the involuntary emotions of the sensibilities not only compel recognition and remembrance, but when they so stir the intellect as to cause new thoughts and strange combinations to arise. k. These new thoughts will be kindred to those in the mind before, and frequently extend to long trains and concatenations of events, dramatic scenes, playful incidents or casualties, triumphs or defeats, things found in nature, and also unnatural and unaccountable oddities. I. These often react again upon the feelings, and produce new and stronger, and, sometimes, truthful successions of thoughts and events in the mind. m. In this second stage the action or wandering of the intellect will be according to the laws of association, either of events, emotions, or logical relations, and may extend in any direction, and to any degree of extravagance which any former experience or knowledge may resemble or suggest. n. The whole universe of past experience belongs to dream-land, and may be traversed and reconstructed at pleasure by dreams. o. A little light slips through cracks and key-holes into a dark chamber,- and makes images and figures there of what is passing with- out ; so a little intelligence slipping, as Pope says, "through cracks and zigzags of the head," falls upon the heart and conscience, and all the emotional nature, and stirs them strongly, and gives us instinctive knowing. p. And in dreaming, the emotional nature, which has been wrought up and excited in waking hours by that which came into it through the intellect, continues its action, and forces its emotions into the intellect from within, and compels its half-awake recognition. THE INTELLECT. 303 q. The intelligence which first lets in the facts and thoughts that produce emotions and give instinctive knowing, recognizes, after we are asleep, the unceasing action of the same emotions. It is the same emotion in both cases; but in the case of instinctive knowing, the intellectual action is first, and before the emotional actions, and the cause of them. r. But in dreaming, the intellectual action is last, and after the emotional action, and caused by it. The half-awake intellect takes cog- nizance of the emotions which, in waking hours, it itself had caused, or had been carried through. s. Dreaming is, therefore, a form of instinctive knowing; but it always takes place in an order the reverse of instinctive knowing ; for instinctive knowing has intelligence first, though small, and then strong emotions afterwards. Dream knowing has the strong emotions first, and the feebler intellectual action afterwards ; while all other forms of know- ing begin in intellectual action, and end in affectional, ethical, and nervous action, and in action of the animal sensibilities. t. Dream knowing begins its action in the affections, the conscience, the nerves, and the animal sensibilities, which have kept on in a state of involuntary action after the intellect went to sleep, and completes its knowing by forcing the intellect to a partial waking state, in which it takes cognizance of their action. u. Instinct begins in the intellect, and completes itself in the feeling. Dreaming begins in the feelings, and completes itself in the intellect. Dreaming is simply instinct reversed ; or, rather, dreaming is instinct asleep. v. As to the reliableness of dream knowing, it must be observed that, as instinctive knowing may often be more correct and reliable than rational and sensuous knowing, so may dream knowing sometimes be more correct than either rational or sensuous cognitions, or than instinct itself, possibly leading to solutions and discoveries. w. For the emotions which have been aroused by waking events may not only have been so strong as to mislead the intellect, but as to mis- lead themsel-ves also ; for the instinctive impulses may have been dis- torted, or they may have been too intense during waking hours, as in passion or fear, to allow just and accurate knowledge of what was passing. x. But in sleep the action of the emotions may sometimes be more calm, sober, natural, proportionate, and balanced, than amidst the con- fusion of waking events ; and thus the judgment or the appearances in dreams may sometimes be the truer ones. y. But not always ; for the distortion may be increased, rather than diminished, by sleep and the reactions of the emotional nature upon the 304 AUTOLOGY. intellect, and again upon itself. The imagination often comes in with a reduplication of all the excitements of the scenes of actual life. II. a. It here may be properly asked, why dream knowing was chosen by God as a means of revelation, and how it 'could be made to subserve that purpose. b. The reply is, that God by his spirit could stir the' involuntary emo- tions of the heart, and awaken thus the intellect into action, and give to it such suggestions, such thoughts, such views, as he choose. He could have the whole mind under his control while asleep, and could play upon it as he pleased. c. It is obvious, however, that the moving of the emotions was by his own supernatural agency. d. And this is the only difference between the dreams which nature, or the events of human experience, excite, and those which God pro- duces, viz., the cause. e. Ordinary dreams have no authority, however good, definite, or im- portant ; but when God himself by his own spirit stirs the emotions of the soul, then the thoughts and the knowledge thus given are from him, and have his authority. • . f. On the contrary, any knowledge, which, by our own pdwer, we may obtain of anything without us by instincts or dreams within, is only a rational inference made by the Reason from our own internal states, feelings, and motives, to those of others without us ; and is, consequently, neither instructive nor miraculous. g. It is here also apparent how dreams and instincts, from the very vagueness and subjectivity of their nature, may be made the means of self-delusion, superstition, and fanaticism. h. Dreams, then, and instincts are not to be regarded as any more divine and certainly as not so reliable, on the whole, as rational and sensuous knowing. i. They, substantially, can never reveal anything new ; their knowing is only the revelation of the sensibility, which, like a candle in a cellar, sends out a little light through the window, and reveals what is in the cellar, and not what is outside of it. SECT. IV. WITH WHAT KIND OF KNOWING, AND WITH WHAT FACULTY OF THE INTELLECT, CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO KNOW ? A. a. The questions, how can the mind begin to act, how can it begin to know, lie, as we have seen, at the foundation of all mental science. They have already been discussed at length in the very begin- ning of this work. The question, how can the mind begin to act, has THE INTELLECT. 305 been fully discussed and had its legitimate answer and application in the treatment of the Will and the Affections. The question, how can the mind begin to know, has also been opened and shown, but will now come up in direct reference to the Intellect, in the examination of which it will find its legitimate answer and application. b. It must here be recalled that all knowing is either absolute know- ing or relative knowing, and that absolute knowing takes place when the knower and the known are identical ; while relative knowing takes place when they are diverse. It must also be observed that absolute knowing is immediate and intuitive, while relative knowing is mediate and interpretative. » c. Let it also be noted that, in relative knowing, external facts are perceived, translated, and cognized by the reason, by means of its own original and necessary ideas, when such facts are presented by the Sense ; while, in absolute knowing, no facts of the Sense, and no ideas of the reason, are, or can be, employed. d. For, indeed, the ideas do not as yet exist, and cannot exist until absolute knowing has first taken place ; for it is absolute knowing that produces ideas in the first instance ; and as for the facts of sense, they cannot be known until after the mind has ideas to know them with. One of the first' and chief offices of absolute knowing is to furnish the mind with the ideas that qualify it for relative knowing. e. The question here arises, with which of the three faculties of the Intellect, viz , the Consciousness, the Reason, or the Sense, can we begin our knowing ? /. To this it is replied that we have already found that we cannot be- gin our knowing by the reason, or by the sense ; for, although we are provided with a faculty for forming ideas, and a method of bringing ex- ternal objects before the mind for cognition, and seem thus ready to enter at once upon the field of external knowledge, yet we find, by the very philosophy of knowing external things, and the nature of the intel- lect itself, and its relation to an external world, that, on the one hand, we cannot know external facts without first having subjective ideas with which to recognize and interpret them ; and, on the other hand, we can- not have an idea without first having a fact from which to form that idea. All this was necessarily anticipated in the preliminary chapters of Parti.; but in order to the clear and satisfactory conduct of the discussion now before us, it will be necessary to restate the positions and arguments there set forth : g. To wit — If we undertake to cognize an external object by a mere physical contact or sensation, we find that contact and sensation totally unintelligible, that it is a mere sensation or consciousness of contact with objectivity, of which we can know nothing without an idea possessed 39 306 • AUTOLOGY. beforehand with, which to interpret it ; that is, without a knowledge of what is knowab'le about it, possessed by the reason, with which to know and recognize, interpret, and translate it. As we cannot interpret an unknown word of a foreign language without a previous knowledge of the corresponding English word, so we cannot interpret an object which physical resistance, or the five senses, brings before us, without knowing beforehand what is knowable about such an object ; that is, having an idea of, and about, the object before- hand, as he who translates must know both languages. For the act of physical resistance and of sensation is simply coming into contact with the external object which is to be cognized .and known. The cognition of that object consists in applying to it the knowledge of the knowable about it which the mind already has, or interpreting or translating that object with which it is thus brought into contact by the idea already possessed of it by the reason ; for all ideas are simply knowledges of the knowable.- h. But here we come upon the other part of the difficulty, viz., that without a fact we cannot have an idea — we cannot know the knoAvable of a thing until we have the thing itself; we cannot have an idea of an object until we have the object itself. An idea, if it exist at all, must be an idea of something ; the knowable must be the knowable of some- thing ; for if an idea is an idea of nothing, of course it is itself nothing. We cannot, therefore, have an idea without first having a fact from which to form it ; and an external fact we cannot have without first having an idea with which to recognize and obtain it. And this brings us clearly to this point, — i. To wit, That we must have some other faculty than physical resist- ance and the five senses with which to furnish the reason with the facts from which to form its ideas. j. At this point, we may remark in passing, lies the great contro- versy between the idealist and the materialist. Says the idealist, and truly, " We are incapable of cognizing or knowing a fact save -by and through an idea." Says the materialist, " We are incapable of having an idea without first having a fact ; " and here in the midst of this confusion arises a haughty and triumphant scepticism, and affirms, " You are both right, and therefore we know nothing ; " or a bewildered mysticism exclaims, "You are all right," and betakes itself to mere spontaneity, or to revelation, as the only sources of valid knowledge. Yet all the while, amidst this confusion and clamor, common sense affirms, "■ We do know something ; we have ideas ; we have facts ; we have knowledge ; the human mind is not imbecile, nor is it deceived, nor a deceiver ; our nature is not a lie ; the God of our nature is not a liar." And so it is, — common sense is right. THE INTELLECT. 307 k. The difficulty is not that reason and the sense contradict, but that each implies aud presupposes the other, and therefore they cannot act simultaneously, nor can either of them be a first step in the attain- ment of knowledge ; they therefore conduct us to this point, viz., that we must have some other way of beginning to know than the reason or the senses ; we must have, first, facts, in order to form ideas, and some other way of obtaining those first facts from which we form ideas than by physical resistance and the five senses ; and also some other way of forming ideas than by the interpretation or cognition of external and sensuous facts ; for the knowledge of these facts and ideas implies and requires the existence of both facts and ideas already .as a means of knowing them. I. We need, in short, a way of obtaining facts directly and immedi- atejy without the intervention of physical resistance, or the five senses, or of the ideas of the reason, and a way of forming ideas from facts that does not imply the existence of ideas already in possession with which to interpret them. m. We need a method of knowing facts and of forming ideas immedi- ately, unconditionally, and absolutely, and not mediately, conditionally, and relatively. Indeed, we see clearl}' by the foregoing discussion that it is impossible to know anything mediately and relatively until we have first known something immediately and absolutely. We have already shown that all knowing must begin in absolute knowing, and cannot begin in relative knowing, for the reason that relative knowing always implies and presupposes absolute knowing as already existing and going before it. It is therefore obvious that we cannot begin our knowing by any act of the sense, that is, by physical resistance and the five senses. n. But it is not enough that the act by which we seek to begin our knowing be an act of absolute knowing ; for the reason knows ideas absolutely ; but it must be an absolute knowing of facts ; for although the reason knows ideas absolutely, yet it cannot know them at all until it first has facts out of which to form them. The absolute knowing, therefore, by which the mind can begin to know must be an absolute knowing of facts. o. What faculty, then,- is it which can begin our knowing by an absolute knowing of facts ? The reply is, that the only faculty which can thus give us facts — the original and primary facts of being — with- out the help of the Sense or the Reason, and give them to us with an immediate, unconditioned, and absolute knowing, is the Consciousness. p. When the Consciousness has thus put us in possession of facts, then can the reason form from them its original and primary ideas with which to cognize the external things brought before it by the sense. 308 AUTOLOGY. q. This knowing of the consciousness is immediate and absolute, be- cause the knower and the known are identical. So also is this forming' of ideas by the reason from the facts of consciousness immediate, unconditioned, and absolute knowing, because the knower and the known are identical. The identity of the reason with the facts of consciousness which it forms into ideas is apparent when we consider that the reason is a development of the consciousness which carries into it ail its primary facts, and which, as a whole with all its facts, is compre- hended by the ensphering reason. The facts -of consciousness are placed within the reach of the comprehension of the reason without the aid of the sense, because they are subjective and already in the embrace of the consciousness, which holds them and the reason itself, and all its comprehensions, in the unity of a common and inhering intelligence. r. The reason, therefore, forms its ideas from these facts with which it comes into immediate contact, and which are the reason itself and its own operations, the consciousness and the constituents of being which it holds and which it carries into the reason when the reason, as a new and essentially distinct faculty is developed from it ; hence, in the formation of ideas by the reason, the knowing is immediate and absolute ; for the knower and the known are identical. s. It is true that in the order of nature and of logic the consciousness must first give facts before the reason can give ideas ; yet the conscious- ness must also give the reason itself, as well as other facts of being, to the reason before it can form ideas ; and the reason, in compi-ehending, first comprehends itself and the other facts of consciousness, and then comprehends its own comprehending ; and thus most clearly are the knower and the known identical, and the knowing is absolute knowing. t. Thus does the distinction between absolute and relative knowing clearly appear, and the distinction between the absolute knowing of facts by the consciousness, and the absolute knowing of ideas by the reason, stands out fully before us ; and thus also is it manifest that all knowing must be begun by the absolute knowing of facts by the faculty of consciousness. B. The Position of Aristotle and Kant in Relation to the Question, With what Kind of Knowing, and with what Faculty, can the Mind begin to know ? a. We cannot better illustrate the points here in discussion than by referring to the systems of Aristotle and Kant, the former tending to sensationalism, and the latter to idealism, though neither intended to teach these doctrines. One method of mental philosophy is to examine THE INTELLECT. 309 all the objects which -are knowable, and thence infer what the fac- ulties of the mind are. Another is to examine the faculties of the mind, and infer what there is to be known. The former is the method of Aristotle, and the latter is that of Kant. Should Aristotle land at New York, as the port of the United States, and wish to know what were the products of the whole country, he would, according- to his method, go over the whole land from state to state, from farm to farm, and factory to factory, and gather up specimens of all the products he could find, and thrus ascertain from observation what the country produced. And after having thus gathered, all the facts, he would then classify them. Should Kant come to America, and wish to know its products, he would, according to his method, go into the stores, shops, and ware- houses, wood and lumber yards, and all places where produce is re- ceived and sold, and take note of the weights and measures, gauges and balances ; such as bushels, pecks, tons, hundreds, quarters, pounds, and "ounces ; feet, inches, yards ; quarts, gallons, barrels, hogsheads ; sacks, boxes, crates, &c, &c, for measuring and weighing all sorts of commodities in dry, long, solid, or liquid measure, and thus learn what the products of the country must be. These measures he would, of course, reduce to certain generic kinds ; and should these methods be complete and exhaustive, they would, doubtless, be correct and reliable, and show the same result, giving us a true knowledge of the products of the country, and bojth of the knower and the knowable. Applying this illustration to tile knowledge of the mind, we find that Kant claims that his method is the better, because it is exhaustive ; it examines the one thing, the mind ; while that of Aristotle is committed for knowing every object in the universe, and consequently cannot be complete and exhaustive. b. But these methods fall, each, into opposite errors. Kant very ob- viously here attempts to give us ideas without facts, which attempt we have shown to be absurd ; for an idea of nothing is itself nothing. We demand, " Where do these mental measures, weights, and ideas come from ? " Aristotle, on the contrary, attempts to give us external facts without ideas, which is also absurd ; for, as we have seen, we cannot know ex- ternal facts until we first have ideas with which to recognize and know them. We demand, " How does he know these facts, which he classifies into categories ? " They do not make the knowing of primary facts by the consciousness, nor the forming of ideas by the reason from the facts of consciousness, any part of their theories of knowing, but assume, at once, that we can have ideas without facts, and external facts without ideas. But that, by their method, we can have neither ideas within, 310 AUTOLOGY. nor cognize facts without, will appear when we observe that we can know external objects only by having an idea of them in the mind be- forehand, and then a contact or a sensation of them by means of physical resistance, or a sensation of the senses, and then interpreting the con- tact or the sensation by the idea. In this way we come to have a knowledge of the object. c. Now, in order to know external objects, what qualifications must the reason have ? Manifestly, it must have, first, ideas, or a knowledge of the knowable, concerning any object of kno'wledge ; and, secondly, it must have the power of coming into contact with the object, of knowl- edge, either by physical resistance or by the senses, and so coming into contact with it as to bring it before the mind for cognition, and for ap- plying to it, and interpreting it b}' the knowable of objects in the act of cognition; and this applying of the ideas which reason has to the con- tact or the sensations which physical resistance or the senses give, and this interpreting of them by the idea, is the act of knowing the object. d. 1. The faculty which furnishes primary facts is the consciousness. 2. That faculty which acquires and possesses the prerequisite knowl- edge or ideas, and applies them to the objects with which • physical resistance or sensation brings us in contact, or with these* ideas or knowledges interprets and cognizes those objects, is the reason.' 3. Those faculties or modes of sensuous contact by which the reason comes into contact with external objects of knowledge, and. by which they are brought before it for cognition, are known as physical resist- ance, or impenetrability, and the five senses. 4. The reason armed with its ideas, together with these two modes of sensuous contact, constitutes the whole of our. faculties for knowing external objects ; they perform all its functions. 5. And let it also be here noted that the reason, in order to cognize external. objects, performs- two functions ; while the forms of sensuous contact, viz., physical resistance and the senses, perform each but one. 6. The reason itself at first provides itself with a knowledge of the knowable from the facts of consciousness, and then, after having thus educated and qualified itself for knowing, it, with that knowledge, inter- prets, translates, or cognizes the sensuous object with which physical resistance or the senses bring us in contact, while physical resistance only shows substance, and the senses only sensate qualities. 7. Thus is the knowing of external objects by the reason, through the senses and physical resistance, and* by means of our ideas, a trans- lation, and, obviously, cannot be done unless those ideas are first pos- sessed. 8. Knowing, then, cannot begin with the reason, nor with the facul- ties of sense ; for neither can act until the other has acted ; nor can it THE INTELLECT. 311 begin in ideas, nor in external facts .; for each requires that some other thing- be first known before it can itself be known. e. I. We come, now, from the stand-point of Aristotle and Kant, again directly to the question, " With what faculty can we begin to know?" for they have not answered it ; and the reply is the same as before ascertained, that we can begin to know only in a faculty that can know facts without the help of the sense, on the one hand, and without the help of ideas, on the other. It must of necessity be a knowing in which the knower and the known are identical. The kind of knowing, therefore, which alone can begin our knowledge, is immediate, uncondi- tioned, and absolute knowing ; and the faculty which alone can begin our knowing is consciousness ; for consciousness alone can know facts in the first instance, and without ideas, on the one hand, and without the sense, on the other. 2. This will appear when we consider that the consciousness is self- seeing, and has itself for the object of knowledge, the knower and the known being identical. The consciousness knows spontaneously and absolutely; and absolute knowing can alone begin to know. Imme- diate, unconditioned, and absolute knowing is intuitive and spontaneous ; while the mediate, conditioned, and relative knowing is interpretative and explanatory : hence the immediate, unconditioned, and absolute knowing is the only knowing that can originate its own knowing, or begin to know ; while the mediate, conditioned, and relative knowing can never be self-originated, but always implies, and presupposes, and is dependent upon a knowing going before it. 3. Now, the consciousness knows immediately, unconditionally, and absolutely. It is its own fact and its own knower, and engrasps itself in its own conscious intelligence spontaneously and involuntarily, and thus knows directly its objects and its knowing. /. Thus, although all ^knowing is by the consciousness, the reason, essential impenetrability, or physical resistance, and the five senses, yet consciousness alone has the power to originate its own .knowing; that is, to begin to know or to begin' its own knowledge independent of any other faculty. It alone, therefore, begins all our knowledge, — all that any of the other faculties know ; and in order to do this it combines in some sort in itself both sense and the cognitive reason, both the «power of Goming into contact with its object, and of cognizing it when so in its grasp. Consciousness engrasps the self which is itself, and both grasps and cognizes by the same act. The reason knows or compre- hends ideas when facts are brought before it, and knows them directly and originally. g. By physical resistance, or essential impenetrability, and the senses, are objective and sensuous things brought before the reason by which 312 AUTOLOGY. they are interpreted and .given as knowledge to the consciousness within. h. The. knowing of primary facts by the consciousness, therefore, is a cognition, and an essentially intelligent spontaneity. The forming and knowing of primary ideas by the reason from the facts of consciousness is a comprehension, an essentially rational spontaneity. i. The knowing of external objects by the reason, through the means of essential impenetrability, or physical resistance, and the senses, is a translation of the external contact or sensation, through the medium of the idea, to the consciousness within. j. Instinctive knowing is by all the faculties, and is both spontaneous and interpretative. k. The sole ground, therefore, of the knowing of the consciousness is its own existence ; there are no conditions whatever. Its knowing, then, is unconditional, immediate, and absolute. It alone can begin our knowing, as we shall see in the next chapter. I. The knowing of ideas by the reason, has this one condition, viz., that the facts of consciousness be given to it, which is simply giving itself to itself, and is simply the condition of its own existence (which is no condition at all). This done, its forming of ideas from those facts is immediate, unconditioned, and absolute. m. The grounds and conditions of the knowing or. the translating by the reason of objects presented by physical resistance and the senses, are the possession of ideas or knowledges of the knowable by the reason, and the mutual and essential impenetrability of the object thus perceived, and the perceiving mind or, person. n. And here it becomes important to note fully and most particularly the difference between the method by which the reason forms or compre- hends ideas from the facts of consciousness, and that by which in the use of ideas it cognizes, interprets, and tyanslates external objects brought before it by physical resistance and the senses. The former is absolute and the latter is relative knowing. o. We have seen already that the act of cognizing external- objects is done by the reason with physical resistance and the senses ; that these last — physical resistance and the senses — perforin but one office each, whileHhe reason performs two. These two functions of the reason are, first, the formation of ideas ; and, secondly, the application of them to external objects. Without the first the second cannot be ; and the second can never precede or give the first. p. And here we see that in forming ideas there is need that the reason should employ a mode of knowing different from that which it employs in cognizing external objects. In the. latter case it interprets an object, which physical resistance or the action of the five senses brings before THE INTELLECT. 313 it, by an idea of that object, or a knowledge of the knowable of that object, obtained from the anterior facts of consciousness. But in com- prehending' an idea, or forming it from the facts of consciousness, it can. not employ a physical resistance or a sensation of that idea, and then interpret that physical resistance of an idea, or that sensation of an idea, by an idea of an idea. There is here, plainly, as in the case of know- ing facts by the consciousness, a necessity for first knowing something immediately, directly, and absolutely, before anything can be known relatively. The reason must needs comprehend the idea directly, im- mediately, and absolutely, from a fact, of consciousness, without the intervention of anything else. q. We shall clearly see this when we call to mind the difference be- tween the relation of the reason to the facts of consciousness, and its relation to the objects of the external world. In the former case, the fact is already in the consciousness, and the reason finds it there, and has nothing to do with introducing it there, or anything to do, in any way, in reference to it, but to form its ideas from it. In the latter case, it finds the object of the external world,, with which it is brought into contact by physical- resistance and the senses, outside of the couscfous- ness, and that its own office is to introduce them into the consciousness for the first time by means of an idea which it uses as an interpreter or lens for that purpose. r. The relation which the reason here holds to the facts of conscious- ness from which it forms its ideas, is thus seen to be entirely different from that which it holds to the object or facts of the external world. The reason is only a development of the consciousness, and is identical with it and all its facts. s. We must here also not fail to observe that the facts of our internal self, upon which the reason forms its ideas, come to us' upon very dif- ferent authority, and by means of a very different faculty from that which gives us facts of the external world ; and also that our ideas, or knowledge of the knowable, come to us from a different source from that from which our knowledge of the external world comes to us. t. The consciousness gives us the primary facts of our internal self, and gives them directly and absolutely. External facts are given to us relatively through physical resistance and the action of the five senses interpreted and translated b}' the reason through an idea. u. Now, the office of the reason in forming ideas from the facts of consciousness is very different, and the material which it acts upon when it forms ideas from the facts of consciousness is very different from that which it performs, and the materials which it works on, in cognizing the facts of the external world. v. The facts of the external world with which physical resistance 40 314 ' AUTOLOGT. and the action of the senses bring us in contact, are not in the con- sciousness until they have first passed through the reason, which, with its ideas, interprets thein to the consciousness and passes them into it ; while the facts of our subjective nature have first passed through the consciousness, and are known by it, in the first instance, before they come into the reason, and before the reason forms them into ideas. w. In this latter case, the reason turns a fact of consciousness into an idea; in the former case, the reason turns an idea which it has formed from a fact of consciousness into an object with which it is brought in contact by physical resistance or the action &f the senses. In the first instance it turns a fact into an idea, and in the other it turns an idea into a fact. x. That is, in the one case, the reason takes a fact of consciousness and from it forms an idea ; and, in the other case, it takes an idea of its own which it has formed from the facts of consciousness, and applies it to, and realizes it in, a fact brought before it by physical resistance or the action of the senses. y. Consciousness, in the one case, gives reason a fact ; and the reason, in the other case, gives consciousness a fact. z. And here it must be noted and insisted again, that, in knowing the facts of our subjective nature, the consciousness knows immediately and absolutely ; but in knowing the facts which come to it through the per- ception and reason, it knows only mediately and relatively. aa. And it must also be repeated, that the reason, in knowing ideas which it forms from the facts of consciousness, knows immediately and absolutely ; but in knowing the facts with which plrysical resistance and the action of the senses bring the reason in contact, it knows only mediately and relatively. bb. And we see, finally, that in order to begin to know at- all, we must first know facts absolutely, and, secondly, we must know ideas absolutely, — the former by the consciousness, and the latter by the reason ; that, in truth, it is impossible to know anything relatively until we first know something absolutely. cc. And, therefore, all our knowing must begin in facts not only, but in the subjective facts of the being and action of the mind, which the consciousness alone can give. THE INTELLECT. 315 DIVISION II. ABSOLUTE KNOWING, OR THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF IDEAS AND OF THE SENSE. CHAPTER I. THE CONSCIOUSNESS GIVES ORIGINAL FACTS, AND BEGINS KNOWLEDGE. SECT. I. CERTAIN FOUNDATION FACTS, SHOWING THAT THE MIND ITSELF, WITH ITS BEING, FACULTIES, AND ACTION, AFFORDS THE MATERIAL OUT OF WHICH IDEAS ARE FORMED. a. We have already given a brief outline of the Intellect as a whole. We now take up each faculty of the Intellect for a more full exhibition of its nature and functions. b. And as we can best know what a faculty is by ascertaining what it does, we will present the operations of each faculty of the Intellect in the work of knowing, viz. : — c. The Consciousness, 'and the Reason, with its appendage of the Sense, and also, in conclusion, the Conscience, though that is* not a faculty of the simple Intellect proper. d. None of the faculties of the Intellect proper have as yet done any- thing in their own especial sphere of knowing, save the Consciousness, which has performed a part of its functions only, and that as a forma- tive principle in the construction of the Will. Its work as a knowing faculty, and its work in connection with the Reason, will next be requisite before the Reason can begin its own work. e. After that, the Reason will begin its work by the formation of ideas from the facts of consciousness. Then the office of the Sense will be requisite to introduce the Reason to the external world. After which the Reason will pursue its operations until it arrives at the domain of the Conscience. 316 AUTOLOGY. f. Then the office of the Conscience will be given as the last and highest faculty. And then the Reason will resume and complete its whole and last work in the completed Personality. g. The faculty with which all knowing begins is the Consciousness. This faculty has appeared heretofore rather as a formative principle than as a knowing faculty. In the latter capacity it now more particularly begins its operations in furnishing the facts of the being, faculties, and knowing of the mind, out of which the Reason forms ideas. h. And so essential is it to begin the search after the material of ideas intelligently, that it will be necessary to recall certain facts of the mind's being, faculties, and knowing, which we have before noted, but which must here come particularly into view : so important are they in their nature and discriminations to the operations of the Consciousness in beginning our knowing that we here set them forth at length. I. The mind is made up of involuntary forces as well as of free •powers. II. The self-assertion of Consciousness. The Consciousness affirms the self, the whole self, as an entirety and a unity, wholly known and luminous, as the essence of the mind. III. The knowing of the Consciousness is immediate and absolute, and not mediate and relative. IV. The difference between Self, Will, and Person. V. Another view. 1. Self has two elements. 2. Will has five ele- ments. 3. The Person has substance and qualities. These points we now take up and restate in full. I. a. That the mind is made up of involuntary forces as well as vol- untary power, we have already seen. b. That all action and all intelligence must begin in involuntary and necessary forces, and that liberty itself consists in the subjugation of involuntary action to the law of the self-consciousness, as self-end of action, we have already seen. c. Therefore, in giving the facts of Consciousness, we must, if we would enumerate them all, give .both free and necessary facts, as both enter into the constitution of the mind, and both are held within the grasp of Consciousness and reported by it. d. Without necessary action there can be no free action. The mind must first be a necessary and involuntary force before it can be a free force, though freedom is latent in its nature and elements ; and so long as it exists, and to the end of its existence, every faculty, save the Will, is involuntary and necessary in its action. THE INTELLECT. SIT e. The Will is made up of involuntary elements, and is itself involun- tary and necessary in the working of the elements that constitute it, but free, as a chooser after it is constituted and all the elements are gathered into a complete whole ; while the Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience, are always involuntary in their action. /. Man is, therefore, nature as well as supernatural, force as well as spirit, animal as well as rational, involuntary as well as free ; and Con- sciousness, in reporting fully, must give all these classes of facts : — (1.) Facts of mere nature, for man is nature ; (2.) and facts of spirit, for man is spirit; (3.) and facts of necessity, lor man has necessary activities ; (4.) and facts of freedom, for man is free. g. And these facts will be the basis of the several classes of categories formed upon them. U. The self-assertion of Consciousness. 1st. a. We have seen that the Consciousness gives itself ; that is, 1. it is conscious that it is conscious ; 2. then it gives the essential activity ; 3. and then, by coalescing with it, it gives self-consciousness ; i. e., essential intelligence, taking cognizance of the essential activity, gives the consciousness of a self, and thus that a self is. b. The Consciousness is active, and the activity is conscious by means of their coalescence, aud thus gives a self-affirmed self, of which they are both elements, i. e., they are each both substance and quality ; for each inheres in the other. c. This is the character of elements as distinguished from qualities ; viz., they inhere in each other so that essential intelligence and activity are mutually inherent, and coalesce in forming one self. 2d. The second fact here given by the self-assertion of Consciousness is 'the self as an entirety, i. e., one whole complete self. a. If, therefore, there is anything in the self so affirmed by Conscious- ness, which is not self, or which the Consciousness does not reach when it affirms, then is Consciousness false. b. In other words, if there is anything in the self below the level, or above the reach of Consciousness, which is yet a part of the self, and which Consciousness yet affirms nothing of, while it affirms a self con- scious of itself, then it asserts a falsehood in the very act of proclaiming the self self-conscious. c. For, if there is anything in the self which the Consciousness does not reach, then the Consciousness falsifies in affirming that the self is self-conscious, or conscious of itself. d. But if the Consciousness does not penetrate to the depths of the essence of the self, then there is something in the self which it does not reach, while it affirms that it does reach it ; and then it affirms falsely. 318 AUTOLOGY. e. For a self is not a part of self, but the whole of self, and the Consciousness affirms a whole self. /. If, then, the Consciousness only embraces the qualities of the self, and not its essence, while it affirms that it cognizes a whole self, then it is guilty of falsehood. • g. And, if it is false in one case, then it may be false in all. h. But Consciousness is not false ; it is ever true, and it does affirm and claim to give, and does give, a complete self, and, therefore, it does give the essence of self. i. And, therefore, the essence of self is a known essence, and not an unknown one. j. If essential activity were alone the essence of self, then it would be unknown. k. But Consciousness is also an element of self, and it permeates and infuses itself all through it from centre to circumference. I. Consciousness is an element of the mind co-ordinate with essential activity, and it inheres in the essential activity as the activity inheres in it, and they both combine and blend to form the self. m. They are .both substance and qualities to each other, and mutually inherent, and interpenetrant, and comprehensive. n. Hence the essence of self is a luminous, and not a dark centre ; a known, and not an unknown essence. o. Consciousness cannot in its own nature go out in a dark essence, but must carry with it its own intelligence wherever it goes ; it is an essential and absolute intelligence, essentially self-seeing and self-affirm- ing, and hence it knows the self. p. The*essential intelligence and the essential activity are, by their nature, mutually substance and quality to each other, because they are elements ; for all elements inhere in each other, and, in this respect, dif- fer from qualities, for qualities inhere in a substance, but elements by mutual inherence form and constitute a substance, and in this case these elements constitute the Will, which is the substance or essence of the mind. III. The third fact of Consciousness here noted is, that the knowing of consciousness is direct, immediate, unconditioned, and absolute, and is not indirect, mediate, conditioned, and relative. a. It knows, not through another faculty, but directly and by itself. ' b. It neither uses an idea of the Beason nor a fact of, the senses, but cognizes directly, being its own fact, and having its own sense, and its own reason in itself, and seeing and knowing itself, as one concrete • faculty. c. The Consciousness is conscious that it is conscious ; its own con- THE INTELLECT. ' 319 sciousness is the object of its consciousness ; it cannot therefore have mediate, but must have immediate knowledge. d. Nor is its knowing* here a distinguishing between two objects, that is, by what is called "plurality and difference." It discriminates no dif- ference, it notes no plurality, but simply and directly knows itself and its own knowing, being to itself the object of its own knowledge, and that as a unity uncontrasted with anything else. e: The Consciousness takes cognizance of its own consciousness and of its own activity ; the activity is conscious, and the consciousness is active; and this knowledge is direct and absolute knowledge; and com- bined they form one self, whose self-consciousness is at once direct and absolute. /. So when, again, the. self or individuality thus found is, as we have seen, Part I., recombined with the preceding elements and thus becomes the law of the activity of the self, — and when, again, this law is recom- bined with the activity, consciousness, and individuality, or self, and gives liberty, — still the knowing of all these processes and facts is by 'direct and immediate consciousness, and is absolute knowing, and not relative knowing. g. And when the whole is recombined in one consciousness as a com- plete will, still, to the last, the knowing is direct, immediate, positive, and. absolute. h. And still further, when this will, thus complete, forms (by the combination, action, and reaction of the elements, activity, intelligence, individuality, law, and liberty, inhering each in the other, and all mutually substance and quality to each) one whole and indivisible will, as the essence or substance of the mind, and develops from itself and embraces in its own conscious grasp the Affections, and the Intellect, and the Conscience, as its own qualities and properties, completing the personality, — then still the knowing is direct and absolute, and not in- direct and relative.' IV. The fourth fact here to be noted is the difference between the self, the will, and the person, all of which are sometimes used inter- changeably. a. Self is the first result of the combination of essential activity and essential intelligence ; this gives a conscious self. b: This self is produced by involuntary forces, and is itself involun- tary, and the substance of mere animal or brute life. c. But when this self or individuality, which is produced by the com- bination of essential activity and essential intelligence, is again recom- bined with its elements, and becomes the law or end of their knowing and acting, then it produces a fourth element, viz., liberty ; for self, 320 AUTOLOGY. acting for a known and intended end, i. c., being its own law, con- stitutes liberty. d. Then, when this fourth element is recombined with the preceding three, it produces will — free will — wh;ch is the substance of human life, or the mind. e. Now, will differs from self in that it has the two additional ele- ments of self-law and liberty. /. This free will thus constituted becomes the essence or substance of the mind by reason of the development from 'it of its two primordial elements, essential activity and essential intelligence, into qualities. g. As a self-conscious free will rising above nature and above self, the will is a complete and finished substance, having its own five ele- ments mutually inherent and complete. h. But when the will is thus complete and free, absolute in its con- sciousness and in its liberty, then, as a substance or essence of the mind, it puts forth qualities. i. Yet, as the substance, it, in the putting forth of qualities and the holding of them in inherence, is not a free, but a necessary force. • ' j. As a development of the essential activity, or on the side of the activity, though it must be composed, in some degree, of both activity and intelligence, it puts forth the quality of the Affections. h. But on the side of the essential intelligence, it puts forth as a quality the Intellect. I. These two elements, having become Reason and the Affections, combine to form and put forth the Conscience as the last and completing quality of the mind. The mind thus complete with will, affections, in- tellect, and conscience, constitutes the person. Will is more than self, person is more than will ; will includes self, person includes both will and self; the person enclosed in or blended with a human body becomes man. m. Now, these three, viz., the Affections, the Reason with the Sense, and the Conscience, are qualities inhering in the Will as the substance of the mind. n. They are not elements, because they do not inhere in each other as do the five elements of the Will ; but they inhere in the Will, not as will, but as substance of the mind, and are a development of its essential elements ; they inhere in the Will ; the Will does not inhere in them ; therefore they are qualities, and not elements. o. The Will is here a substance or essence, not by virtue of its freedom, but by reason of its involuntary forces, which, by the necessity of their own nature, put forth qualities after they have formed the Will, precisely as, before, they, by their own necessary action, developed and combined themselves in forming the Will. THE INTELLECT. 321 V. a. It is true that this matter of the essence of the mind might be looked at as lying a little deeper. Yet it then would be the same ; to wit, essential force or activity is always and everywhere the nature of substance in the world of nature. b. All we know of such substances is, that they are, and must be, a blind force, holding qualities in inherence. c. But here, when this essential activity is joined by another force, viz., essential intelligence, and they combine in a conscious self, con- scious that it is conscious, then these elements give the substance, self, as a luminous, and not a dark, a knowing, and not an unknowing, sub- stance ; and it is none the less a substance or essence because the light of consciousness penetrates and reveals it. d. It is now a known substance. Consciousness is a force for hold- ing in inherence and for developing quality, as well as an illuminating and knowing power, so that it could be regarded as the substance of activity, or activity as the substance of it. e. Now, the essential activity thus penetrated by the essential intelli- gence, and the essential intelligence thus vitalized by the essential ac- tivity, form the self. Either might be regarded as the substance of the other, and of the self, or both ; but better that they should both be regarded as the elements of the self inhering in each other and blending in the one self. The self has simply these two elements, coeval and ccequal, chronologically and logically. f. This self might also be regarded as the substance of the Will, as the two developments of self, law and liberty, which added to self pro- duce Will, inhere in and spring from the self, and are recombined with its original elements to form themselves and the Will. This might so seem. g. But it must be remembered that law and liberty are recombined in each instance with the original whole, and inhere in each other insep- arably, and complete themselves, not by becoming and maturing a quality, but by recombination with the preceding elements, convolving each with each, and each, while distinguishable, mingling inseparably with the whole, forming one complete Will. h. This Will is itself substance and essence when complete, and it blossoms out, bears as fruit, never more to be combined with the original will or essence, the faculties of Affection, Intellect with Sense, and Conscience. i. These qualities remain distinct from each other, and do not recom- bine as -elements do, nor inhere in each other as elements do, but inhere in the Will as their substance. The elements of intelligence and activity are developed into these qualities ; the activity into affections, and the intelligence into reason, and both combined into conscience. 41 322 AUTOLOGY. j. As the Will was formed by combining' the two in the beginning 1 , so is the Conscience formed by combining the two in the completing of the person. k. 1. The Self has, therefore, only elements forming it, two in number. 2. The Will, also, has only elements in its construction, five in number. 3. The Person has qualities and substance in its construction. I. The Self is composed of two elements, activity and consciousness, and can have no qualities either before or after its construction, except as it is the substance of mere animal or brute nature, as we shall see. m. The Will is composed of five elements, viz., activity, intelligence, individuality or self, law, and liberty. It has not qualities, but like the self, simply mutually inhering elements in its construction ; but when constructed it becomes a concrete substance, unit, and essence, by the outbranching of its elements into qualities. n. This springing up of qualities from the centre of the Will is spontaneous and necessary. The essential activity and intelligence, having - , by their own involuntary and necessary action, produced the Will, by the same original force spring forth, the one into affections, and the other into intellect and sense, and both combined form the conscience ; thus givmg qualities to the Will as the substance of the mind, and completing the personality by giving, in addition to free will as substance, affection, reason, with sense and conscience inhering in it. o. We thus see the difference between self, will, and person, and how it is that self might be (erroneously) called the substance of the Will ; and the essential activity and the essential intelligence, the sub- stance of the self and of them both ; for they are the substance sub- stantissimns of the mind. p. But it is truer and more philosophical to call essential activity and essential intelligence, and their developments, elements, forming, first, self, and then the will, which will is alone the substance or essence of the mind, holding the qualities of affection, reason, with sense and con- science in inherence. After this explanation no confusion about these terms in their nature can arise. We may speak of will or self as the centre and substance of the mind without confusion, and also of their elements. SECT. II. HOW THE CONSCIOUSNESS FINDS AND GIVES THE ORIGI- NAL AND ONTOLOGICAL FACTS OUT OF WHICH THE REASON FORMS IDEAS. A. Preliminary Principles. a. The essential intelligence, or consciousness, as a formative princi- ple, has already been given in the elements of the Will. It now begins its work as a knowing faculty of the Intellect, styled the*Consciousness. THE INTELLECT. 323 b. Having found that we begin to know by the Consciousness, we come now to the enumeration of those ontological facts which it gives, and which are our first knowledge, and upon which all subsequent thought arid knowledge depend. c. These facts are found in the person ; and, though they are of three distinct classes, and are, consequently, the basis of three distinct classes of categories, still they lie in the structure of the mind, not in the order of distinct classes, nor j r et promiscuously, but according to the structure of the mind itself, which is built of them, with each in such place as the framework of the mind demands. d. These facts will be found to belong to Personality, Animal life, and Inanimate nature. In the first are found all the facts of the second and third ; in the second, some of the facts of the first and all of the third ; while the third has only its own. e. Or, to change the order. The facts of nature are alone ultimate and universal, being found in all the forms of being and life — inani- mate, animal, and rational ; while the facts of animal life are peculiar to it, and superadded to the facts of inanimate nature ; and the facts of rational life are peculiar to it, and superadded to both the preceding classes of facts. f. A person has facts of being in common with all animate life and inanimate nature, and with those rational beings who are superhuman. It has less, probably, than superhuman beings, but more than animal life or inanimate nature. g. Personality is built upon the basis of mere nature and animal life, but is carried many stories higher than mere nature or animal life. h. We shall therefore find, in an exploration of the mind, facts of na- ture and animal life, and also the person's lofty structure rising out of mere nature and animal being, in the tall and noble stories of will, affection, intellect, and conscience, whose dome ascends even to the heavens. i. Let it not, however, be supposed that the higher facts of humanity are a mere development of the lower facts of nature. The spirit of man is all distinct from the mere life of animals, or the mere force of nature. j. All being in the universe is made up of spirit, life, and force ; and these three elements lie at the basis, and are the characteristics, of the three orders of being in the universe ; viz., men, brutes, and inanimate nature. Man is characterized by spirit, brutes by life, and inanimate nature by force. h. Human nature has in it all three — spirit, life, and force; brutes have life and force ; while inanimate nature has only force. Force alone is nature ;" force joined with life produced animals; while 324 AUTOLOGY. spirit joined with life and force produces man. But spirit has in it, at the beginning, life and force ; life has in it force ; while force has only itself. (. Life is, consequently, no development of force, for force has noth- ing in it but force ; nor is spirit any development of life, for- life has in it nothing but force and life. It is absurd to expect to develop from anything that which is not in it in the beginning. The " develop- ment theory 7 ' is a reversal of nature and a contradiction in itself; for nothing can be developed out of a thing, which was not, in its essence, in that thing beforehand. m. We must, therefore, begin with the highest, and not with the lowest form of being. Chronologically,, we may observe, analyze, and learn the universe by beginning with its simplest forms ; but, logically and ontologically, the smaller proceeds from the greater, and not the greater from the smaller. "The child is the father of the man 7 ' only because the germ and essence of the man is in the child already as a germ and an essential spirit. But it is not true that a lizard or a tad- pole, an ape or a gorilla, is the father of man, in any sense ; for while the child has the elements and the essence of the man in its nature, these lowe'r animals have them not ; and therefore man can never be . developed from them. n. Spirit, be it then emphasized, is the ultimate being : life and force are properties in it: all combined make one entity, one spirit, insepa- rable. There is no spirit without life and force : they all constitute one identical being. But life without spirit is mere animal being, hav- ing in it the two elements of life and force ; and force without life is simple nature, having only the one element. o. Being, therefore, begins at the highest and completest form, and descends to the lowest. It begins in spirit, and descends to life, and then goes down to mere force, which is its lowest generic form. It must, however, never be forgotten that man, though spirit and all dis- tinct from mere brute life and inanimate nature, has, nevertheless, in him life and force as well as spirit; i. e., spirit has life and force in it. p. It must not be forgotten that man has a nature as well as a will ; a being as well as a person ; and that, while free will, reason, and con- science make him man, and ally him to God, still the larger part of him is a blind, irrational, and unethical force, which force is to be ruled, enlightened, and ethicized by the free will, the pure reason, and the divine Conscience. q. The great errors of mental philosophy and of theology arise pre- cisely here, — by regarding man as all nature and mere being, on the one hand, or all will, on the other ; or by some monstrous and mis- THE INTELLECT. 325 chievous mixing of the two in a way to confuse and dishearten the mind with perplexity, and to degrade humanity. r. We will keep nature and will, or mere being and personalit}-, apart. Nature is both inanimate and animate ; it contains both animal life and what is called dead matter. As in all past discussions in this work, so here, man's voluntary and involuntary powers are kept distinct. s. And while we keep them distinct, we will yet show how they form but one complete whole ; for without involuntary forces there would be no free forces, as without spontaneous and absolute knowing there could be no relative knowing. Necessary force is essential to free will and free force, just as spontaneous knowing is essential to deliberative and interpretative knowing. t. The facts of mere being underlie the facts of personality, and must first be before a person can be. The necessary forces and laws of nature must be, before the free forces of the person can be, and the spontaneous and necessary knowing must precede relative knowing. u. We come, then, to the facts of consciousness, and we shall take them up precisely in the order in which we find them, — rather, we shall first shake them all out of the bag of consciousness, and afterwards separate them into the classes to which they belong. v. The Consciousness begins its knowing, and all knowing, by the twofold, yet indivisible and identical affirmations, " I am conscious," and, " I am conscious that I am conscious;" thus asserting its own being and its own knowing, or self and self-seeing, or self-consciousness, in the first instance. w. The Consciousness is conscious, and conscious that it is con- scious ; knows, and knows its knowing ; sees, and sees its seeing ; and thus affirms its own existence and its own knowing, as first facts, and the first materials out of which the Reason forms all its original ideas. x. These two original, primary, and generic facts are alike first in the nature of being, and first in the affirmations of the Consciousness ; and from these the Reason, as we shall see, forms the great and funda- mental ideas of being and knowing, which lie at the foundation of all being and knowing. y. And this brings us back to the analysis of being and knowing already given in the formation of the Will, in Part I. We there found, on a close analysis, that they had each two irreducible elements, viz., essential activity, or life, and essential intelligence, or consciousness ; and that these two were virtually one, — the activity, or life, being con- scious, or intelligent, and the consciousness being active, or alive ; and that they both combined in forming the one self, as an indivisible unit. z. We found also that these two original and primordial elements, 326 ■ AUTOLOGY. essential activity, or life, and essential intelligence, or consciousness, by combination and development, produced three other elements, making five in all ; all of which, in their combination, produce the Will, which will was the centre and essence of the mind ; as follows : — aa. Essential activity and essential intelligence, combined with essential self, gave essential self-law, as a fourth element ; and then the combination of these four gave us liberty, as a fifth element. bb. And, lastly, the recombination of all these five, as distinct ele- ments, gave us the completed Will, which was the essence and centre of the mind. cc. We there found that from this Will as the essence, centre, and substance of the mind, all the faculties, as the Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience, spring out as so many properties, and inhere in it as so many qualities in their essence or substance ; and that these faculties as a whole, viz., the Will, the Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience, constitute the personality of a rational soul, and, when clothed in an earthly body, become the human being, man, comprising a complete humanity. del. Now, it is by analyzing this human being, man, and tracing the constituents of his rational soul, as above, back to their original, primor- dial, and irreducible elements, and finding them as they lie in conscious- ness, that we shall be able to give those first facts, upon which and of which the Reason forms its original, necessary, and universal ideas. ee. We start, then, with the first affirmations of the Consciousness, viz., " I am conscious," and, " I am conscious that I am conscious," giving us the two great facts of being and knowing. These facts are the two lofty pillars of the Golden Gate of the Divine Temple of the soul, by which we enter, and explore its deep chambers and hidden treasures of facts and ideas. ff. We pass in, and, by a direct passage, descend to the deep and solemn centre, where they are seen to be in their primitive state — the two primordial and irreducible elements of essential activity, or life, and essential intelligence, or consciousness, which are the last analysis of the mind into being and knowing, as shown in Part I. gg. Here, then, we begin in the discovery and accumulation of facts ; and, following up the steps of developing being, as already given, we shall find the original facts out of which the Reason forms all its original, necessary, and universal ideas. B. The Consciousness does the Actual Work of finding First Facts. 1. a. The first fact here noted, which the Consciousness gives, is that of essential activity, or life. b. From this first fact the Reason forms its idea of life, and of all liv- THE INTELLECT. 327 ing things as opposed to inertia, and what is called dead matter, and death itself. 2. a. The second fact noted, which the Consciousness gives, is that of essential intelligence, or consciousness, from which the Reason forms its idea of intelligence, as opposed to mere unintelligent being or nature. b. The order of nature and of time may not here accord with each other. Obviously, life is before intelligence, and the fact of life would seem to be the first thing known by the intelligence ; yet chronologi- cally essential intelligence would seem to come first into consciousness ; the two are, however, inseparable. Essential activity, or life, has intel- ligence in it ; the one cannot be without the other ; the order is not material. As two living elements, they give us the two leading facts of our being — the fact of life and the fact of intelligence; and these, as we shall see in the next chapter, are the facts upon which the Reason forms the idea of life and the idea of knowing. 3. a. The third fact noted, which the Consciousness gives us, is the self, the self-conscious self, and self-active self, or living being, produced by the combination of the two primordial elements of essential activity and essential intelligence. b. This self is the first fact of concrete being which the Consciousness gives, and which carries with it many other first facts, involved in its production and being, which we shall bring out in due time. Essential activity, which is the first strand of our being given by the Conscious- ness, is itself, as we have seen, not a single, but 'a braided and two- corded strand, having in it both essential intelligence and essential activity ; and essential intelligence, which is the second strand of our being given by the Consciousness, is also a two-corded strand, composed of essential activity arid essential intelligence. It is thus manifest that these elements are the last analysis possible. Self may be decomposed into these two elements ; but when we consider either of these two, they simply decompose themselves into each other. Hence they are, sever- ally, the last analysis of the human mind, and the first affirmation of the Consciousness. 4. a. The fourth fact noted as given by the Consciousness is that of essential self-law. b. This element is produced by the recombination of the essential self as a distinct and third element with the two preceding original elements, essential activity and essential intelligence. This combina- tion gives the experience in consciousness of the fourth element, essen- tial self-law, or self-end, as the end of action. 5. a. The fifth fact observed given by the Consciousness is that of liberty. b. The fact of liberty is produced in the Consciousness by the recom- 328 AUTOLOGY. bination of self-law, above given, with the three elements which precede it. The result of the combination of the four, activity, intelligence, self, and self-law, is the conscious fact of liberty. 6. a. The sixth fact noted as given by the Consciousness is that of will — free will. b. The Will is the natural outgrowth of the combinations of these several elements, one with another, beginning with the two simplest, and working it up to the great result; to wit, essential activity and essential intelligence combine and produce essential self, or individuality. This individuality, combined with the preceding elements, becomes self- law, which, recombined with the preceding, produces liberty ; this, re- combined with the preceding, produces free will. 1. a. The seventh fact which we here mention as given by the Con- sciousness is that of being. b. This fact is produced by the same combination of the essential activity and the essential intelligence that produces self. In the con- sciousness of a self is found the first knowledge of being ; and it is here given as a simple, primary fact. c. It is true, that in the experience, " I am conscious," being is affirmed, in the first instance ; yet it is also true, that in the very ex- perience, "I am conscious," there is first the consciousness of activity, or of life : and it is also true, that there is the consciousness of being conscious; so that the phrase, " I am conscious," is the expression of a complex and not of a simple experience. d. It embodies the experience of essential activity and of essential intelligence. In the phrase, " I am conscious," the " I " is the affirma- tion of activity, or life, and the "am conscious" is the affirmation, " I am conscious that I am conscious ; *' so that the whole experience em- bodied in the affirmation, " I am conscious," is this, viz., I am alive and essentially active, and I know ; i. e., I am conscious that I am conscious of being so alive, active, and conscious. e. Hence we give this union of activity and consciousness as the first affirmation of being. The affirmation of life, or activity, involves the affirmation of consciousness ; and the affirmation of consciousness implies that of activity and life : both are essential to the affirmation of either, and, consequently, to the affirmation of being. 8. a. .The eighth fact noted is that of diversity. b. This fact is found in the first movement of essential activity and essential intelligence, by which they each stand distinct and known in the consciousness. They are there and then distinguished from each other, and individually affirmed. 9. a. The ninth fact is that of identity ; and this is furnished by the same act of consciousness that gives us diversity. TIIE INTELLECT. 329 b. For the consciousness affirms essential activity and essential intel- ligence as the two distinct, original, and irreducible elements of the mind, and in affirming the diversity of either, affirms the identity of the other, and the individuality of both. It will be observed that in affirming being, diversity, and . identity, the Consciousness affirms, directly and absolutely, reality ; i. e., actual being, and not the mere impression of being ; for the knower and the known are identical. It will also be observed that the Consciousness which affirms diversity and identity distinguishes real things which have an actual existence. 10. a. The tenth fact afforded by the Consciousness is that of resem- blance. b. It is affirmed by the Consciousness, that all the elements are alike mutually inherent, and components of the olie will. . They are diverse from each other, but their diversity gives them individuality, and thereby are they identical in themselves with themselves, while they have a common resemblance as elements in the one will. c. These facts may all be found later in the mind's development and upbuilding ) viz., the Will, when complete, gives us, in its existence as substance and qualities of the mind, the facts of being, of diversity, of identit3 r , and of resemblance ; but they here make their first appearance. d. Thus do we see that the universal and inevitable categories of the mind — known as formal categories, because they are found necessarily in all and every possible act and object of knowing — are actual and real, and exist in the very first elements of being. 11. a. The eleventh fact here named, which the Consciousness gives, is that of cause. This fact is produced by the union of the two pri- mordial elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, creating the self. These forces are involuntary, and work together as mere in- voluntary forces in the production of the self. b. A cause is any force working out a result. These two elements energize by their own spontaneous forces, in producing self; and this is necessary cause. c. This necessary cause is entirely distinct from the free force and activity of the Will ; the former is natural cause, the latter is free cause. The forces of essential activity and intelligence that produce the Will are necessary, and must never be confounded with the Will itself, which is a free force produced by them. d. The Will, complete in its constituents of essential activity, intel- ligence, individuality, law, and liberty, is a free cause, having its own efficiency and determination in itself. It is distinct, peculiar, positive, and personal ; and this cause is ever going forth in free choices as its effects ; and thus we have ever the facts of events beginning in free will, out of nature, yet appearing in nature. 42 330 AUTOLOGY. e. The causes in nature are entirely different from it, being imper- sonal and necessary activity and force going out in necessary results ; and, though Consciousness is a part of free force, and is blended with it in the mind, and reveals it, and adds self-consciousness to it, yet it re- mains still a necessary force. f. But when the self, which is the result of the two forces of activity and consciousness, becomes again, by combination with them, the law of that conscious activity, or self, then it gives liberty ; and when this liberty is combined with the preceding elements, then the self becomes a free will, and from a necessary and impersonal cause becomes a free and personal cause (which see below). g. The essential activity and the essential intelligence are not the Will, but are constituents of it, and, as such, are necessary and im- personal forces ever going forth in necessary and involuntary life and action, forming first the self, and then, by further development, the Will ; and then, branching into affections and intellect, and lastly, recombining in the conscience, they complete the whole mind. h. Now, these forces, necessary and impersonal, combining to form the self, — these are the first facts of consciousness, and they give the fact of cause — natural, involuntary, impersonal, and necessary cause. 12. The twelfth fact here mentioned, which the Consciousness gives, is that of effect; i. e., the self produced is the effect of the causes which produce it. 13. a. The thirteenth fact here observed is the dynamical connection or relation between cause and effect. b. This fact stands distinctly in the embrace of the Consciousness. While the Consciousness gives the facts of cause and effect, it gives also the relation between them ; and this relation is dynamical, and liv- ing, and known by the Consciousness. c. That this relation is vita*l and dynamical is certain ; for in the case of free will, the Consciousness knows the relation between choice and its object ; that is, between free cause and free effect, as intended, free, and voluntary. And in the case of the essential activity and intelli- gence, the Consciousness knows the relation as involuntary and neces- sary — -as of a force producing results ; yet, in both cases, it knows the relation to be both vital and dynamical. d. The Consciousness holds nothing stronger than this fact. The two elements, activity and intelligence, energize ; that energizing is their nature and the fact of their being. They produce, by that ener- gizing, the self and the elements as causes. Their causing or uniting in an effect, and the effect, are all alike marked, known, and held by the Consciousness. Thus the dynamical connection of cause and effect is a fact of Consciousness. THE INTELLECT. 331 14. a. The fourteenth fact given by the Consciousness is" that of the unity and identity' of cause and effect. This is especially true of ne- cessary causes. The effect is simply the converse of the cause ; both are one. The effect is the manifestation of the cause, and the cause is the nature and life of the effect. It is an identity of essence and na- ture, and not of form. b. So also in free cause, the effect, though contingent as an event, is yet, as an effect, necessarily the embodiment of the design and intent of the free cause, and is, in this essential (and the only essential) re- spect, identical with its cause, manifesting its nature, life, design, free- dom, and intelligence. 15. The fifteenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of motion. Motion is nearly identical with activity. It differs from it, if at all, only in this — that it implies progress as well as simple activity. Mo- tion results from the combination of the essential activity and the essen- tial intelligence, when these produce, necessarily, the elements that compose the Will ; and, again, when they produce the qualities that in- here in the Will as substance. 16. The sixteenth fact noted is that of number. This is produced by the successive combinations of the two primordial elements, essential activity and essential intelligence, in the formation of the other elements of the "Will. 17. a. The seventeenth fact which we record as given is that of time. This also is produced by the successive combinations of the two original elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, in developing the other elements, and in them as causes, passing into the effect of self and will. Those successive consciousnesses give the facts alike of cause, number, and time. b. Consciousness, by giving the successive facts that lie within itself thus far, and especially by giving the original and primary facts of essen- tial activity and essential intelligence, working together as cause, pro- ducing self as an effect, gives them by succession ; and successive acts are a succession of events, and these events are each separated from the others by time, and all are included in successive times. c. As space is the relation between objects, so time is the relation between events. Each space of time is given as a fact in giving the facts between which they form a relation. Consciousness also gives us as a fact the relation between an event and time. The fact of an event is given, and the fact of time, and thus the fact of a relation between them. d. Time is created with the event which it holds ; it is its beginning and its end, separating it from the something or the nothing which goes before, and from the something or the nothing which comes after it, and 532 AUTOLOGY. mclosing all the somethings that precede or follow it ; it is thus distin- guishable into parts, yet is but one whole. e. Time is thus a something created out of nothing ; for nothing goes jefore it, and nothing comes after it — rather, time is an actuality created where, before, was only the negative possibility. Time is succession produced by a positive force, where before was only the neg- itive possibility of its existence. .(See further in the next chapter ) 18. a. The eighteenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of the mbstance, or essence. The Will is the substance of the mind. The tVill is formed by the combination of the two primordial elements of essential activity and essential intelligence first into a self, then self-law, ;hen libert}', and, lastly, into Will. b. A substance, or essence, is made up of elements which inhere in ;ach other by action and reaction, as we have seen, and fully develop , md mature themselves in one complete whole. Now, this whole is the substance of the mind, as already shown by the testimony of the Con- sciousness, which claims it as such. c. From this substance, when it is a complete will, there spring brth qualities. These qualities arise out of its nature, as all qualities nust. The Will, as substance of the mind, is not free, but holds its qualities in an involuntary and necessary inherence. 19. a. The nineteenth fact here observed is that of qualities. Quality s the complement and correlative of &ubstance, the evidence of its nature, md only another form of its existence. b. They are produced by the two primordial elements of essential ictivity and essential intelligence, which, after they have completed the kVill as substance, still work with an incompleted life, and break over, md come out, first, with more activity than intelligence, as Affections ;. md, secondly, with more of intelligence than activity, as Intellect ; and hen, thirdly, with a recombination of themselves and their products, as iffections and will, they combine and rise over all as Conscience. Thus lave we the fact of quality : for these qualities inhere in the Will as their substance. 20. a. The twentieth fact which we mention is that of the Affections, ts the first quality of the substance will. b. Out of the completed Will as essence and substance of the mind, spring from the side of its essential activity rather than its essential in- elligence, though as a whole from both, the affections as qualities, diey arise involuntarily out of this original and primordial element of the nind. They are a new and peculiar development of it after the Will is brmed and complete as a substance. 21. a. The twenty-first fact is that of the intellect, as a quality of the substance will, containing Consciousness and the Reason with the Sense THE INTELLECT. 333 b. This quality springs rather from the essential intelligence than the essential activity, bat is a combination of them both. 22. a. The twenty-second fact is that of the Conscience as a quality. b. This is the third and last quality of the mind. It springs out of the two primordial elements of the Will, essential activity and essential intelligence, after they have combined to produce essential self, essential self-law, essential liberty, and essential will. These elements complete the Will, and give it both proprietorship and accountability ; and from such a Will, having these elements as the substance of the mind" springs forth-the quality of the Conscience. c. The qualities all combine, i. e., Affections, Intellect, and Conscience, with the Will, in which they inhere as their substance, to make up the whole mind or personality. d. They spring out of the Will, the substance of the person, just as qualities spring out of any other substance in nature. Precisely as all material substances hold their qualities in inherence, so does the Will, as substance of the mind or person, hold the qualities of the person in in- herence. The Will is not the mind, but the substance of the mind ; these qualities are not qualities of the Will simply, but of the person. e. The Will acts here simply as a necessary force, just as all other substances in nature everywhere' do. f. The affections, intellect, and conscience are not qualities of the Will as will, but as the substance of the mind. The Will has activity, intelligence, individuality, law, and liberty, as elements constituting its existence as a will and a substance. g. The elements inhere, not in a substance, but in each other. But this substance being complete, then it puts forth qualities, not as will, but as the substance of the mind ; which qualities inhere in it, and not in each other, and grow out of its very nature and centre. Now, as such substance, it acts involuntarily, and as a necessary force. h. The Consciousness gives us this fact; viz., the Will as the con- scious substance of the mind ; the Will, free in its own legitimate acts as a will ; but in its relations to the qualities of the mind, as substance of the mind, not free, but only a necessary force. i. This fact, then, stands revealed in consciousness ; viz., the personal- ity as substance and quality. While substance is the essential 'and central force of a thing, quality is the development of that force, and shows what it is ; if substance is the root, qualities are the blossom and fruit. j. In this way affections, intellect, with the sense and conscience, spring out of the nature and life force of the Will, not as will, but as essence and substance of the mind or person. They are not qualities of the Will, but of the mind or person, of which will is the substance. k. And as the elements of the Will are all dynamical forces, or pro- 334 AUTOLOGY. ceed from the same forces, and by the exertion of the same powers, so are the qualities of the substance of the mind, not accidental, extraneous, or mechanical, but dynamical, being the outworking of the essential forces of the mind. 23. The twenty-third fact is that of the vital and dynamical connec- tion and relation between substance and'quality. As the substance self is a living self, and the qualities are living, so is the connection between them a living and dynamical relation, and as distinctly in the grasp of consciousness as are the substance and qualities themselves. 24. The twenty-fourth fact is that of the essential identity of sub- stance and quality, as of the same being and nature, each essential to the other, and always existing together. This identity of substance and quality is given by the same consciousness that gives their vital and dynamical connection. 25. a. The twenty-fifth fact is that of action. and reaction. b. This fact is produced by the joint -and reciprocal action and reac- tion of these two original elements and forces of the soul, essential activity and essential intelligence, after they have ceased to develop themselves further, either as elements or qualities, but have completed the whole mind, yet still act and react as the simple and perpetual pulse- beat of life, maintaining the perpetual being of the living soul. c. The nature of this fact is seen in the working of the essential activity upon the essential intelligence, and the intelligence l'eacting upon it, both thus being active, and both intelligent, producing the self-conscious self as a distinct result. Now, so far it is cause and effect; but after the self is formed, then these two forming one whole as effect, self and object in time and space, each acting upon the other, and each appearing in turn and maintaining one life and being, in one space, by their action con- stitute the primal fact of action and reaction, as distinguished from cause and effect. They act as cause producing the self; but, as perpetual elements of the completed self, their action is not causal, but reciprocal. In this respect they are but the pulse and heart-beat of the principle of life, and act and react as the life-giving and life-sustaining force ; and this gives us the fact of action and reaction, as distinguished from cause and effect. This fiict appears again in the completed will, whose ele- ments act and react in producing and sustaining it. They act as causes in- producing the self and will ; but, when they are formed, they still act and react as their life. 26. The twenty-sixth fact is that of the perpetual, vital, and dynam- ical identity of the living soul of man through all the periods of its exist- ence. This is produced by the fact of the perpetual action and reaction of the essential activity and the essential intelligence of the soul in one ceaseless succession and unending life. THE INTELLECT. 335 27. The twenty-seventh fact which is noted as given by the Con- sciousness is that of perpetual reknowing, or the perpetual succession of consciousnesses. This perpetual reknowing is the essential fact of memory, and is produced by the vital, dynamical, and perpetual action and reaction of the essential activity and the essential intelligence, which remain and continue as the pulse-beat of life, after the development of the mind is complete. 28. a. The twenty-eighth fact given by the Consciousness is that of free cause. While the essential activity and the essential intelligence are spontaneous and necessary in their action, the Will is free in its action, having its own activity, its own end of action, or law in itself. And when the Will, by developing itself into affections, and intellect, and conscience, completes itself into a personality, then is that person- ality a free cause. b. The Will, when complete in its elements of essential activity, in- telligence, individuality, law, and liberty, and when complete in all its qualities of affections, intellect, and conscience, becomes a free, rational, affectional, and ethical cause ; such a cause is a person, and such a per- son is a cause ; and this cause, it has been seen, and will be observed, is all distinct from involuntary cause. Involuntary cause, as we have seen, is a blind force, acting necessarily either as cause or as substance, as we have just seen in the preceding facts of consciousness ; but per- sonal cause is free, rational, affectional, and ethical ; knows its own ac- tion beforehand, chooses its own ends beforehand, loves its own interests beforehand, and judges its own deeds when done. This is personal cause, free cause, rational cause, affectional cause, ethical cause ; it is, in short, the human soul, armed with all its power to originate acts and intents, and to achieve them in actual deeds and results. This is the highest fact found by the Consciousness as constitutive of the being of man. 29 a. The twenty-ninth fact noted, is that of final cause. This fact lies in the consciousness of a free cause. A free cause acts with design as well as liberty, and this consciousness of acting for an intended end in the exercise of liberty is a fact of intended action achieving its .design, or final cause. From this consciousness of his own nature, man forms the idea, and is capable of finding the fact of final cause in the works of nature and of man. b. But man, in the possession of his faculties of free will, of affec- tions, of intellect, and of conscience, is conscious that he himself is a fact of final cause. He knows that he was made for an end, and finds, wrought into his nature, the fact that he was made for holiness and virtue, and not for sin and depravity ; and here he has. in himself a fact of final cause. Hence he is prepared to discern, and believe in final cause wherever it exists. 336 AUTOLOGY. 30. a. The thirtieth fact which we here note as given by the Con- sciousness; is that of personality as the complete being of the soul. Personality is the essential chai'acteristic of man, or spirit, as opposed to mere animal life or mere force. In it, freedom is opposed to neces- sity ; reason to sensuous consciousness ; affection to animal desire ; and ethical judgments to mere selfial provisions. b. Man here rises above nature's forces, and above animal life. The elements of his nature demonstrate themselves as all distinct and superior, differing in kind and in quality, and not simply in development and degree, from them. c. The spirit of man here vindicates itself as having another essence than that of mere animal life and mere nature's force. It is built of an essential activity and an essential intelligence that will not stop in their development at the point of -mere nature's necessary force, nor yet at the point of the mere self of animal life ; but which, from their own in- ward nature, press on and develop the essential self-law and the essential self-liberty, which are in them, and produce them, and combine them all into a free will. d. Nor have these elements yet exhausted themselves, or worked out all their intrinsic powers ; they do not stop with the production of a free will ; but, with this as the substance of the mind, they put forth quali- ties ; first, the manifold classes of affections ; second, the intellect with its cognitive consciousness, reason, and sense ; third, the conscience, with all its ethical discernments and behests ; — thus completing the full development of the spirit of man in personality. e. Man is here not mere nature's force, nor animal life, but spirit and person, of the nature of God, and in the image of God. Man is not a higher development of nature's force, nor of animal life, but an essen- tially and generically different being, even a spirit. f. Nature's force is not spirit, never could be spirit by any combina- tion or development. Animal life is not spirit, never could be spirit by any degree of development, or any amount of cultivation, or any subtlety of combination. g. The spirit of man stands alone in this world, is sui generis, and alone capable of freedom, rationality, and ethical judgments and behests ; for man alone has the faculties of Free Will, Reason, and Conscience ; and these lie in the original elements of his nature, and are not the re- sult of development and culture. Personality is not simply above nature's forces and animal life, but essentially distinct from them both : man alone, is in the image of God. "31. a. The thirty-first fact noted is that of object, or quantity, or ob- jectivity as opposed to subjectivity. The completed personality, like the self and the will, which enter into its construction, is an object dis- THE INTELLECT. 337 tinguished and complete, and is so held in consciousness, being brought up and developed from the first elements until its rounded whole is em- braced as a unit. b. We have seen that the essential activity and the essential intelli- gence, combining, produce individuality, or self. But this individuality, in order to be such, is, of necessity, distinguished from objectivity ; it is consciousness coming to the limits of the self, and thus circumscrib- ing and individualizing the self, — this is a first fact; viz., the self- affirmed self. • But the same fact of consciousness that gives the self as separated, gives, also, that from which it is separated ; viz., objectivity. This is the • second fact involved in the very act of individualizing or coming to the limits of the self. In giving self, we give not-self; it is separating myself from something outward. We cannot cognize the one without cognizing the other, any more than we can cognize a hill with- out cognizing the hollows that surround it, or a vale without cognizing the hills that surround it. c. Yet, it must not be concluded that there is no positive knowing of the self, without, or except in, discriminating it from the not-self; for even if there were no not-self to be discriminated from, or known, still the self would be essentially active and essentially conscious, and must, of necessity, know itself. It could not help knowing itself, if it existed at all, whether anything else existed, or not. But, in coming to the limit of itself, it demarcates objectivity, which is the not-me (even though the not-me is nothingness), and cognizes it as such. It first knows itself; it is self-conscious; then it knows the not-self. It is absurd to say that the fact of knowing consists merely in distinguishing the me and the not-me, when, of necessity, one thing must be known before another can be distinguished from it. Then, in giving thus the me and the not-me, the Consciousness gives us object, or quantity, and space. 32. a. The thirty-second fact is that of whole and part. This arises out of the fact of object, or quantity, as a totality, and has three mo- ments in the consciousness; viz., — 1. One, or unit. 2. Two, or plu- rality. 3. The whole completed in a totality. b. The Consciousness experiences this as a fact in forming the Will by the successive development of its elements from the two original ones of activity and intelligence, and also again in the development of the affections, intellect, and conscience, as qualities, from the Will as their substance, and forming a completed personality as a whole. In each and all of these cases of development there is the experience of part and whole. 33. The thirty-third fact here named as given by the Consciousness, is that of measure. This fact is given in giving the experience of part 43 338 AUTOLOGY. and whole, and in forming a whole by the addition or combination of parts. 84. a. The thirty-fourth fact observed is that of space. Space is the consciousness of extension, and is given as occupied and filled by the self or object, and produced by the combination of the elements of essential activity and essential intelligence precisely in the same way, and at the same time, with the production of the objects that fill space. Space is just as large, and no larger, than the objects in space require, and it exists only where 'they exist. The object that exists carries with it the space that encloses it. b. This objectivity which the Consciousness touches in coming to the limits of the self, — this is the space which surrounds the self; or if the self actually touches some external object from which, of course, it is distinct, then space is that which encloses the individuality, and sepa- rates it from the external object ; for the very act of distinguishing the me and the not-me, is throwing a space between them ; separating is" spacing. We cannot cognize two hills without cognizing the vale be- tween them ; so we cannot cognize the me and the not-me without set- ting a space between them, and cognizing that space which separates them. Space, therefore, is the relation between two or more objects, always given as a fact in giving those objects. Consciousness also gives the relation between an object and space itself; that is, that it is in space. Space is, of course, objective to the self, though there may be nothing in it. c. Space encloses an object just as time encloses an event. All objects are, of necessity, in space, as all events are, of necessity, in time. Consciousness gives each by force of its own inherent knowing- ness, and, in giving them, gives that which encloses them ; so, in giving two objects, the act of distinguishing them is separating or spacing ■ them," setting a space between them. And so, distinguishing events is setting a " space of time " between them ; it is timing th^m, or setting time between them. Thus when the working of the two causes, essen- tial activity and essential intelligence, produces the self as an effect, this effect is both an event and an object, and, therefore, is both in time and in space. d. And here it may be observed in passing, that mind occupies space as well as time ; for if two living men were instantly disembodied, their spirits would still be mutually objective, just as much as when embodied. The self-consciousness of the one would exclude the self-con- sciousness of the other ; they would be each mutually repellent of the other, and each would stand distinct in its own self-consciousness, in- dividualized and separated from all else, as . necessarily as when em- bodied. THE INTELLECT. 339 e. Thus we have the fact of quantity ; for the me is enclosed in and, occupies space, and is separated by space from the not-me. The me at least has position in a space, like the matter of a material point, and like it, though having neither length, breadth, nor thickness, yet it has posi- tion ; and if position, of course impenetrability ; and if this, of course it occupies space, and is therefore a quantity. f. We have here given, then, the self as an object or a quantity occupying space, and this gives us these facts : first, the fact of quan- tity ; secondly, the fact of space ; thirdly, the relation of space to quantity ; i. e., quantity fills a space, it is separated from other quanti- ties by a space, and one whole space encloses them all. The space that an object fills is part of that object. The space that lies outside of that space which the object fills, and separates it from other objects, — that space is both objectivity and a separator from objectivity. The space which an object fills is rather subjective to the object, and is a part of it. The space that surrounds an object and separates it from other objects, or from nothing, — that is objective and separate from the object. g. The same is true of time, which events fill, and by which they are surrounded. Space must not here be confounded with nothingness, for space is a fact, and exists only as a fact, and where something occupies it. Where there is no object there is no space ; for space is created to hold the objects that fill it. Space is, therefore, not infinite, but finite ; and not necessary, but contingent, like the objects that fill it and are separated by it. h. Space is extension in nothingness, or in the negative possibility of extension. The object that fills space, and the space which it fills, are both created by the fiat of Jehovah. He is their positive, or effi- cient, possibility ; but the nothingness, in the midst of which space is created, and the object which fills it is created, is simply the negative possibility of extension. Space, therefore, is merely extension caused by a positive and efficient possibility in the midst of a negative possi- bility, or nothingness. 35. a. The thirty-fifth fact noted as given by the Consciousness is that of impenetrability. Impenetrability is simply anj'thing of any kind or nature which is impenetrable ; i.e., which occupies space and time. That which prevents that any other thing should occupy the same space which it occupies at the same time, — that is impenetrable. b. It is of no moment what that something is which meets time and space, and forms the threefold junction with them. It ma}' be a force ; it may be a spirit; it. may be an animal ; it may be a stick, a stone, or a clod ; it is not important what it is ; it is something ; it is an entity of some sort, — spirit, life, force, or anything else (if else there be). 340 AUTOLOGY. The essential fact is, that an entity meets time and space in one point or position, and thereby produces the fact of impenetrability ; i. e., the existence of an entity at the confluence of time and space, which entity, so existing, prevents the possibility of the existence of any other entity at that confluence or point of time and space — that is the nature of impenetrability ;.it is simply that in any entity at the point of the con- fluence of time and space which prevents that another entity should be there at the same moment. c. Manifestly, impenetrability is identical with simple being 1 , which is the first fact of consciousness. As being may be either force, life, or spirit, so may impenetrability be found in either. Let it not be sup- posed for a moment, that impenetrability belongs exclusively to nature, or material things, or matter, as it is called. All things are divided into spirit, life, and force. Matter is simply the form and body of each. Impenetrability belongs to life and force, and also to the soul, or spirit, of man ; and as no two forms of life can occupy the same place at the same instant of time, so no two forces can occupy the same place at the same time ; and as life and force cannot, so cannot two spirits occupy the same space at the same time ; and if spirits cannot, much less can spirit and life or force as separate entities occupy the same space at the same time ; and still less can spirit occupy space when any grosser forms of matter are there, except it be porous ; and then the real object remains impenetrable. Nor does spirit cease to be spirit because im- penetrable, any more than life ceases to be life, or force ce.ases to be force, because impenetrable. 36. a. The thirty-sixth fact which we name as given by the Con- sciousness is that of spirit. We have already seen that all being may be divided into three kinds, and comprehended under three heads ; viz., human nature, or spirit ; brute nature, or life ; and inanimate nature, or mere force. Spirit is the first and the greatest, the most obvious and best known fact in the universe. It has in it, as we have seen, all the elements found in any other form of being. Spirit has life and force, while force has neither life nor spirit, and life has only force beside itself ( o. Spirit is essentially, and generically, and totally different from life and force. The difference is not that of degree, but of kind. Spirit has all that life and force have ; but they have not, and cannot have, what it has. c. While force ever remains mere force, as essential activity simply energizing and acting and stopping there, life has an activity and an intelligence that combine and rise to a self, a living self. And while the activity and the intelligence that are in the life stop at mere self, and can rise no higher, the activity and the intelligence that are in THE INTELLECT. 341 spirit energize and develop, — first, a self; then self-law; then liberty; and then will, free will ; then, not stopping here, they rise still, develop- ing from the substance will, as qualities the affections, the intellect, and the conscience, into a full and complete person, which both has and takes on form, body, or matter. d. Now, though spirit has all the properties before given, all the thirty-five elements and facts now given, and yet more, — though it has force, life, self, will, person, cause, substance, objectivity, impenetrabil- ity, and matter, body, and form, — yet is spirit not material, not the same as mere force or mere life ; but it is spirit, exclusively spirit, distinct from what is called matter, or force, or mere animal life. e. Spirit, like life and force, has form, and, by virtue of impenetrabil- ity and objectivity, has body and matter as they have ; and, like them, it takes on material forms in the world, as we have seen ; but it does not for that reason cease to be spirit. Impenetrability does not belong exclusively to what is called matter, nor does the spirit cease to be spirit because it has impenetrability, any more than life ceases to be life, or force to be force, because they have impenetrability. f. Spirit is not nature, no part of nature ; but is purely, and gener- ically, and essentially, spirit ; and that everywhere and forever. Spirit is not matter ; spirit is not force ; spirit is not life ; spirit is not nature ; spirit is not body ; spirit is not form ; although it has all these, and all the thirty-five facts given, and more to come, yet spirit is none of them, but is generically different from all, and essentially sui generis in that spirit is spirit, and not anything else. 31. a. The thirty-seventh fact is that of life, animal life. This 'fact is found at the point where essential activity and essential intelligence have produced the self. In mere life there is nothing but a self, and no further development as in spirit. b. Hence the essential activity and the essential intelligence, which are in mere life, are of a different uature from those that are in spirit ; for in spirit they develop themselves not only into self, but onward into self-law, liberty, will, intellect, and conscience. c. Life, on the other hand, rises above mere force. Mere force can never become life, any more than life can become spirit. In these re- spects life is seen to be generically different also from force. Force has only activity, while life has both activity and intelligence. And the activity which is in life must differ from that which is in force in that it coalesces with essential intelligence, while mere force never does. 38. a. The thirty-eighth fact is that of force. b. Force is the essential activity as a working energy, not as life. The essential intelligence is also a force when viewed simply as a working energy, and not as intelligence. The fact of force, as well as 342 AUT.OLOGY. that of spirit and life, is found in all the energizing of these two primor- dial elements in the production of self, will, and person. They may act simply as force, and as such they never combine and develop into any- thing higher. c. Precisely here is force generically and eternally different from life : force never can become life, as life never can become spirit. Force stops at activity ; life stops at self; spirit alone can become free will; and free will alone can develop from itself affections, intellect, and conscience, and become a person. 39. a. The thirty-ninth fact is that of matter, body, or form. This subject properly belongs to the fourth division, which treats of Sense and Embodiment ; yet, as spirit, life, and force, do not belong exclusively to this world, and as they have all the facts hitherto given as belonging to them, the subject of body and form has a place here ; for if spirit, life, and force have all the facts heretofore given, then they must have an essential body, or form, before embodiment in flesh, or mere nature. b. Matter is body and form, and body and form are matter. The fact of body, or matter, is first given by the Consciousness in giving the entity of the self, will, or personality, as an object occupying space and having impenetrability. It is the consciousness of reality and bulk, or body (for matter is body); and it is impossible to regard the mind even as spirit without some form, or body, a body spiritual. This makes the notice of body, form, or matter, which are the same thing, not only proper, but necessary, here. c. Hence everywhere matter is the body or form which spirit, life, and -force take on, and by which they adapt themselyes to action and use. In this world, spirit has the human body ; life has the animal body ; force has the forms of mere inanimate nature. Matter covers spirit, life, and force, and is their body and object, having impenetrability, and occupying space and time. d. But the simple entity of spirit, life, and force, and, especially, the fully developed soul with all its elements, forming first a self, then a will, and then a complete personality, has already objectivity and im- penetrability, and thus essential body, form, or matter. Yet matter has its peculiarity in this : it is the form, screen, covering, and instrument of spirit, life, and force, which they take on, and change, and use, and lay off again. e. Human souls are sent into human bodies ; animal selves into animal bodies; force into nature's forms of mineral and vegetable. Man dies out of his earthy form, and goes into another world to take on another form ; for spirit, life, and force have ever a tendenc}'- to take on form, or matter. /. The full consciousness of body of course never comes to the spirit of man until he is embodied in flesh. Life takes on the brute body, THE INTELLECT. 313 and force never appears naked, but is always embodying itself in na- ture's forms ; electricity has its conductors, the magnet its needle, and attraction its body in proportion to its strength ; yet they all have essential body in their own entity. 40. The fortieth fact here noted as given by the Consciousness is that of the mode of existence. The fact of being is one thing ; being, con- sidered as substance, cause, quantity, and also as mode of being, is a different thing. The modes of being are threefold — actual, possible, and necessary. 41 . The forty-first fact is the actual. The actual is given by the Consciousness in any fact of being. Whatsoever the Consciousness affirms as existing is actual ; as for example, the Consciousness affirms the existence of the ego and the free will. This is a fact of the actual. It must here be observed that this affirmation of the actual or real is absolute. The knower and the known are identical, and therefore the knowing is absolute, and the reality here affirmed is absolute knowledge. . 42. The fortj'-second fact given by the Consciousness is that of the possible. At first thought it would seem that nothing but the actual cculd be a subject of experience ; and, of course, that the possible, not being actual, could never be experienced. But possibility is of two sorts, positive or efficient, and negative. The positive or efficient possibility of anything is simply conscious power or liberty. Now, that we are conscious of liberty as an element of the Will, we have repeat- edly shown. Essential activity and essential intelligence, combined, produce essential self. Essential self, recombined with the two preced- ing, produces self-end, or self-law. And self-law, recombined with the three preceding elements, produces liberty. And all this is a matter of consciousness. Liberty, then, is in. the possession and grasp of con- sciousness. But liberty is the possibility of choice. Conscious liberty is. therefore, conscious possibility. Efficient possibility is here an ac- tuality in the possession of the Consciousness. 43. The forty-third fact is that of the necessary mode of existence. The Consciousness finds the necessary in the working of all and any of the involuntary forces or faculties of the mind. All mental action and all life-forces, except the action of the Will, are necessary, and the Con- sciousness gives them as such. The mode of the action of those ele- ments is a necessary, and not a free mode of action. And thus the three modes of being are found as facts in the consciousness. 44. a. The forty fourth fact is that of the true. The true is not. sim- ply the actual ; for that may be false ; but it is something that is true as well as actual ; and these elements are found to combine in the neces- sary. The true, then, is identical with the necessary ; i. e., it is that which is truthful, and which conforms to the nature of things. 344 AUTOLOGY. b. But there is no such fact as the true apart from individual facts ; hence any necessary fact, as a necessary cause producing its effect, is a fact of the true. All facts given in article 43 are facts of the true. 45. a. The forty-fifth fact is that of sublimity. The sublime is both an object and an emotion*' It rises out of the actual by carrying it up as to power and force, magnitude and vastness, as high as the nature of the actual will admit. b. This fact may be found as an emotion in the consciousness on oc- casion of any exercise of the will or the affections by which they rise into admiration or awe, self-devotion or courage, magnanimity or heroism. c. The fact of the sublime as an object as well as an emotion lies in the original structure and development of the soul, in which the ele- mental affections, beginning in desirefulness, and rising through trust- fulness, hopefulness, and cheerfulness, culminate in aspiringness, and then still ascend to reverentialness. d. In this original procession, augmentation, and structural upbuild- ing of the affections in their elemental state, we have the first fact and object, as well as emotion, of the sublime. This original fact repeats and perfects itself when the elemental affections develop and diversify themselves into all the successive orders of Determinate affections based upon them, as individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, and aesthetic affections, culminating and completing themselves in the religious affec- tions. e. The sublime lies not in the fact that we have emotions, nor in the fact of an evolved and completed soul-development, but in the one swelling and augmenting emotion, and the overtowering and ever up- rising structure of the soul. Thus we have the given fact of the sublime, both as an entity and an emotion, in the structure of the mind itself. 46. a. The forty-sixth fact here named as given by the Conscious- ness is that of beauty. The beautiful is both an object and an emotion. As an object it is the proportional, symmetrical, and harmonious devel- opment of the form of the actual into the possible, to the highest degree of which the nature of the actual will admit. b. The beautiful is thus the complete and perfect as to form, and is found as a fact of consciousness in the completed personality given in article 30. The highest fact in existence is the oompleted soul, built up from its first elements to its highest faculty, all consummated in will, affections, intellect, and conscience, and all instinct with essential intel- ligence and essential activity, giving emotion, and liberty, and rationality, and conscientiousness. c. In the perfectness of human personality, found in the complete self-consciousness of the whole man, we have the first fact of that com- THE INTELLECT. 345 pleteness and that perfectness which we call the beautiful when transfig- ured by the Reason. d. We have also the emotion which an object of beauty awakens within us in the ajsthetical affections, so that beauty, both as an original fact and an emotion, is found to be indigenous to the nature and structure of the soul itself: 4T. a. The forty-seventh fact is that of deformity and ludicrousness. The deformed and ludicrous, both objects and emotions, are exaggera- tions of the actual, the sublime, and the beautiful. There is but a step between beauty and deformity, and a single step between sublimity and ridiculousness. b. The consciousness of any disproportion or misgrowth of any one of the affections — and such misgrowths are common ; to wit, too much egotism or vanity, too much trustfulness or hopefulness, too much as- piringness or religiousness — any of these, as facts in consciousness, lay the foundation fur the idea of the deformed and the ludicrous ; and they are both objects of deformity and susceptibilities to emotions of the ludicrous. 48. The forty-eighth fact given is that of ethical discernment. The conscience accuses or else excuses, it condemns or it justifies, the ac- tion of the will and of the affections. 49. The forty-ninth fact is that of the giving of a rule of duty. This rule, in its fullest sense and largest meaning, can be given only by the reason in its highest intelligence ; which rule is enforced by the con- science. But, still, the origin and germ of this rule is given by the original discernment of moral differences by the conscience, as in the last article. 50. The fiftieth fact which we here note is that of the ethical enforce- ment of the rule of right, according to the discriminations of the con- science. The conscience not only discerns moral differences and gives a rule of duty, but it enforces the observance of them. It thereby gives the sense of obligation to obey the highest known rule of duty. 51. The fifty-first fact which we name as given by the Consciousness is that of man's complete personality as an effect, conscious that it is an effect ; that is, the human mind is conscious of its own contingency and dependence. The human mind is conscious that it is not self-existent, nor self-created, but that it has a begun or caused existence. This fact, viz., the consciousness of being an effect, is seized by the reason as the ground of an adequate cause. And this completes our reconnoitring after the ontological facts of the being, action, and faculties of the mind. We have, doubtless, overlooked some ; others may not be so clearly ob- vious ; but on these facts the Reason will form its ideas. In giving these facts the Consciousness begins to know, and begins the knowledge 346 AUTOLOGY. f of the mind. Here, and in this way, the mind can alone begin to know ; and these facts arc all found to combine in man's personality, and con- stitute it one whole. They are wrought into man's nature, bodily, intel- lectual, and spiritual, and are of nature, of animal life, and of the rational soul, respectively. Man is a complex and compound being, having force, animal life, and spirit ; he has the properties and powers of inanimate nature and of animal life, as well as human nature, and is, hence, made up of all these facts. His nature is both force and freedom ; and hence we find in him both liberty and necessity. SECT. III. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE HUMAN MIND, BRUTE BEING, AND INANIMATE NATURE. A. Facts peculiar to the Human Mind. a. Having given the facts of Consciousness, we now propose to sep- arate them into their respective classes, as belonging to the Human Mind, Brute Being, and mere Inanimate Nature; — the world of Spirit, the world of Life, and the world of Force. b. It must here be observed that these three classes of facts may be arranged under two general heads; viz., the Natural and the Super- natural; i. e., the personal and the impersonal.. The former is above nature, the latter is within nature. The knowledge of both is derived from the same source ; viz., the being of man as given in consciousness. c. The facts that are within na.ture contain all life, animal and vegeta- ble, and all inanimate Dature ; those facts that are out of nature and above nature comprehend all that is within nature, and then, rising above nature, include humanity, and all rational, affectional, and ethical persons in heaven and earth. The facts within nature have nothing that is peculiar to those that are above nature, while those above nature in- clude all that is within nature. d. The human mind is the highest finite object in the .universe, and comprehends a larger number of generic facts than any object that exists in nature. All the facts given by the Consciousness in the foregoing section, and, doubtless, others which we have overlooked, are found in man ; but as we descend from man to animal life, we find there only a part of the facts which we had before found in man ; and as we descend yet lower, to inanimate nature, we find a still smaller number of the original facts which man's more complete and comprehensive being contains. e. The difference between the human mind, animal life, and inanimate nature, may be clearly distinguished, as far as single words can distinguish them, by the terms spirit, life, and force ; the first standing for the hu- man mind, the second for brute being, and the third for inanimate nature. f. Some facts contained in each are found in all of them ; yet they THE INTELLECT. 311 are all unhomogeneous. Spirit is not the same as life, nor the same as force, though the human spirit has both life and force ; nor 'is life the same as force, though brute being has both life and force. Inanimate nature, or force, differs from animate nature in that it has not life; and it differs from the human mind, or spirit, in that it has neither life nor spirit. It has simply force ; and as a force it exists in all its forms. g. The human mind has all the facts contained in spirit, life, and force. Brute being has all the facts contained in both life and force, or in animate and inanimate nature. Inanimate nature has only the facts of force, and none of the facts peculiar to spirit or life. And here, in order to make it appear that man is totally different from the brute, and that the brute is totally different from mere nature, it must be observed that the primordial elements in each are different from the others. h. Let it be noted that the primordial elements of essential ac- tivity and of essential intelligence, which enter into and produce the human mind, are themselves made of spirit ; while the essential activity and the essential intelligence that enter into and produce brute na- ture are made of merely the vital principle, or life ; and that nature is made of force simply. Yet the human mind has not only spirit, but life and force. i. It must be remembered that the essential activity which is in man has in it spirit, is spirit; and that the life and force which it also has are the life and force of spirit. It must also be observed that the essen- tial intelligence which is in man is spirit ; and that it, consequently, has both an apprehending and a comprehending power in it ; while brute being has in its essential activity only life and force ; i. e., the principle of vitality and the principle of force, with no spirit ; and the essential intelligence of brute being has in it no spirit and no comprehending, but merely an apprehending intelligence formed from a sensuous con- sciousness. j. And, lastly, inanimate nature has in it only one of the primordial elements of being, viz., essential activity ; and in that activity there is nothing but force ; it has no spirit, no life, and no intelligence of any kind. k. In order to exhibit the difference between the human mind, brute being, and inanimate nature, we here give the schedules of facts which belong to a complete human mind. We shall afterwards point out the facts which are peculiarly and exclusively human, and thus prepare the way for showing what facts belong to brute being and to inanimate nature. 348 AUTOLOGY. FACTS IN THE HUMAN MIND. A. Elemental Facts. I. Essential Activity. 2. Essential Intelligence. 3. Essential Self. 4. Essential Self-law. 5. Essential Liberty. 6. Essential Free Will. B. Universal Facts of Being. 7. Being. 8. Diversity. 8. Identity. 10. Resemblance. C. Causal Facts. II. Cause. 12. Effect. 13. The vital and dynamical connection between cause and effect. 14. The vital and dynamical identity of cause and effect. 15. Motion. 16. Number. IT. Time. D. Facts of Substance and Quality. 18. Substance. 19. Quality. 20. Affections. 21. Intellect. 22. Conscience. 23. The vital and dynamical relation between substance and qualities. 24. The vital and dynamical identity of substance and qualities. E. Facts of Vitality. 25. Action and Reaction. 26. Perpetual Identity of the Self. 27. Perpetual Reknowing of the Consciousness. F. Facts of Personality. 28. Free Cause. 29. Final Cause. 30. Complete Personality. G. Facts of Objectivity. 31. Object. 32. Whole and Part. 33. Measure. 34. Space. 35. Impenetrability. II. Kinds of Being. 36. Spirit. 37. Life. 38. Force. 39. Matter. I. Facts of Mode. 40. Mode. 41. The Actual. 42. The Possible. 43. The Necessary. J. ^Esthetical Facts. 44. Truth. 45. Sublimity. 46. Beauty. 47. Deformity and Ludi- crousness. K. Ethical Facts. 48. The Conscience discerns Moral Differences. 49. The Rule of Duty is suggested to the Reason by the Conscience in the first instance. 50. The Conscience gives the Sense of Obligation. THE INTELLECT. 349 L. Theistic Facts. 51. Man, as a free, affectional, rational, and ethical personality, is conscious that he has a contingent or begun, and not a self-existent, be- ing : he is conscious that he is an effect. I. These facts in man's nature constitute the universe of spirit, life, and force ; or the world of the human mind, the world of brute life, and the world of mere inanimate nature. On these facts, as we shall see, are founded all the categories of thought and of knowledge, which apply to and interpret all things, human, brute, and of nature. m. But while man's nature contains the full catalogue of facts above given, only a part of them belong exclusively to him. The larger por- tion of them he holds in common with animal life and inanimate nature ; a smaller portion of them is held by brutes in common with man and nature ; and the smallest portion of them is held by inanimate nature in common with animal life and the human mind. None of them, however, are exclusively in the possession of inanimate nature, and none in the exclusive possession of animal life ; but the human mind has facts which are exclusively its own, and are never found either in animal life or in inanimate nature. n. The facts which belong exclusively to the human mind are these : viz., Self-law, or Self-end, Liberty, Free Will, Affections, Intellect, Con- science, Perpetual Reknowing, Free Cause, Personality, and also the Human- Body. The fact that the human mvnd contains these facts and faculties shows that it is of another nature than mere brute life or inanimate nature. It shows that even the facts which it holds in common with them are pro- duced by a cause different from that which produces the same facts in them, and that the sameness is, consequently, confined to the facts, and does not belong to the causes that produce them. It must ever be remembered that, while the greater comprises the less, the less does not comprise the greater; i. e., that spirit has in it life and force, but that force has neither life nor spirit. Spirit is not built of force and life. Force cannot be developed into life and spirit ; nor can life be developed into spirit ; but spirit exists originally and in the first instance, and is generically different from mere life and force. It possesses, and can give off, life an,d force ; but life and force cannot be developed or im- proved into it. The fact that spirit has life, does not make life spirit ; nor does the fact that life has force, make force life ; nor, on the other hand, does the fact that spirit has life and force, drag it down to the level of mere life and force, nor prove that force and life, however combined, can ever produce spirit. o. In the order of nature's gradation it would seem necessary to take 350 AUTOLOGY. up inanimate nature first, and that then we should take the self as the substance of brute being, and present the constituents of animal nature as the next in order above the mere inanimate world ; and, lastly, the facts of the human mind. p. But as man is the greatest finite object in the universe, and as the light by which we see what brute nature is, and what inanimate nature is, comes from human nature and the human mind, and as all facts con- tained in them are first found in the human mind, we shall consider that first, and mark the others as differing from it. Facts exclusively in the Human Mind. The human mind, or personality, has in it, in the first instance, all the great primary facts which are found in mere inanimate nature ; as, being, cause, effect, time, object, or quantity, space, action and reaction, &c, &c. ; and also all the facts of animal nature ; and then, in addition thereto, it has its own facts of human personality, which we shall now particularly consider and present in order. I. a. The first fact of personality is that of will, free will (including self). b. Consciousness, as we have often seen and repeated, gives us the two primordial elements . of the mind, essential activity and essential intelligence, as the source and beginning of all action and of all knowing. 1. Then these two elements combine and produce the third; viz., self, or essential individuality. 2. Then by recombining this essential individuality with the two pre- ceding, it becomes their law. 3. Recombining again this law with the three preceding, it becomes liberty, which is the last element. 4. Then recombining liberty with the four preceding, it gives will, or free will, as the result. Thus is free will generated, and stands in the consciousness as a distinct fact. c. Will has these five elements, all given in consciousness, and pro- duced by successive combinations of the two first with each other and with their results. They stand thus : — I. Essential Activity. 2. Essential Intelligence. 3. Essential Indi- vidual^. 4. Essential Law. 5. Essential Liberty. Each combined with each produces, 6. Essential Free Will. II. a. The second fact of personality given by the Consciousness is the affections. They might be called the -second class of facts ; for they are many — more numerous than those of the Will ; viz., 1. desire- THE INTELLECT. 351 fulness ; 2. trustfulness ; 3. hopefulness ; 4. cheerfulness ; 5. aspiring- ness ; 6. reverentialness. b. These are elemental affections, given by Consciousness, which be- come, respectively, the bases of six classes of more determinate affec- tions, with their subordinate classes and manifestations; viz., 1. indi- vidual affections ; 2. social affections ; 3. patriotic affections ; 4. phil- anthropic affections ; 5. assthetic affections ; 6. religious affections. These constitute the second class, of the facts of personality given by Consciousness. III. The third class of the facts of personality given by Conscious- ness is the Intellect and its faculties; viz., 1. Consciousness. 2. Reason, with the Sense, made up of physical resistance and the five senses. IV. a. The fourth class of personal facts is the Conscience and its properties ; viz., the disceimment of moral differences, and the obliging to regard them. b. These four facts, with their subordinates, Consciousness gives us as making up the personality, and as distinguishing the personality from mere being. V. Perpetual Reknowing, or Memory. This is found in the action and reaction that give enduring identity. . ■ VI. a. The sixth fact of personality is free cause ; a cause whose action is self-originated, free, self-chosen, self-law, and self-adjudged as to its moral qualities. b. This is a free cause, a rational cause, an affectional and ethical cause, all combined into one person and personal cause. VII. Complete personality. a. The persondias in its elementary, and involuntary, and irrational nature all the facts of being, and holds them in common with mere being, mere nature ; but it has also its own peculiar facts which lift it above mere nature, and make it person, even a rational soul. b. In common with mere nature, or being, both animate and inani- mate, the person holds these facts as a part of itself and of nature ; viz., involuntary cause and effect, time, quantity, space, action and reaction, substance and qualities, and possible, actual, and necessary modes of existence, &c, &c. c. Then, rising above nature to the sphere of person, of free, rational, affectional, and moral life, it has the facts, also, of will, affections, intel- lect, sense, and conscience, and is thus a person and a personal cause. 352 AUTOLOGY. d. Let it here be recalled that the Consciousness, in giving- the facts of inanimate nature, of animal life, and of rational life, gives them, not in separate parcels, but just as they arise in the complex nature of man, which is made up of involuntary and unintelligent nature, animal life, and rational life. e. These different stories of being are not each built of the separate materials which give them their name, but the varieties of material are all built into each part and story as its structure seemed to require.' f. Hence we find a part of man's personal being built in with his animal life and mere nature ; and a part of his involuntary and unintel- ligent nature mixed in with his animal and personal nature ; and animal nature is also found running from inanimate nature all the way up into the very heart of personal nature. g. And hence, in giving the first facts of consciousness, we give them promiscuously, as they are found chronologically in the complex structure of the mind ; to wit, essential activity, essential intelligence, working necessarily, and combining to produce self, as cause and effect, giving time. h. Then this self, or effect, as object, or quantity, giving space ; then self-law and liberty, giving will ; and, in producing and in maintaining will, giving action and reaction, and thus identity and memory; and then will, as substance, giving affections, intellect, and conscience, as qualities. i. Now, these facts, it will be seen, drop out promiscuously, without regard to the class to which they belong ; just as, in any structure, the various materials of stone, brick, mortar, iron, wood, might be found in any part of it. For convenient reference we subjoin a schedule of the faculties and the facts exclusively in the human mind : — I. The Will. 1. Essential Activity. 2. Essential Intelligence. 8. Essential Self. 4. Essential Self-law. 5. Essential Liberty. 6. Essential Will. II. The Affections. Elemental Affections. Determinate Affections. 1. Desirefulness, giving Individual Affections. 2. Trustfulness, " Social Affections. 3. Hopefulness, " Patriotic Affections. 4. Cheerfulness, " Philanthropic Affections. 5. Aspiringness, " iEsthetical Affections. 6. Reverentialness, " EeligiousAffections. THE INTELLECT. 353 III. The Intellect. 1. Consciousness. 2. The Reason, with the Sense. IV. The Conscience. 1. Discernment of moral differences. 2. Enforcement of moral dif- ferences. V. Perpetual Reknowing. VI. Free Cause. VII. Personality. B. Brute Being. We are now prepared to examine animal or brute life, and find its position between inanimate nature and the rational soul of man, or be- tween spirit and force. Liie is the characteristic, though not the exclu- sive possession, of animal nature. a. We shall find that brute life is not an imperfect rational life, but a mode of existence peculiar to itself, distinct from man and from the forces of inanimate nature, and that as a whole it belongs to the side of mere nature, and not at all to the side of the rational soul of man. b. This will be made out when we consider the manifestations of brute life as they are found in the actions of brutes, and also in the structure of the brute nature itself, in both of which it will appear to be as it is, wholly diverse from humanity, and altogether in harmony with inanimate nature ; for nature is not dead ; all nature has some sort of vitality of action, if not animal life. c. Brute life will appear to be in sympathy and harmony with the laws of vegetable life, rather than with the free, volitional, and rational life of man. In fact, the brute has no intellect, properly so called, but only elective affinities, like the roots and plants in the ground, which seek nutriment fitting to them from air, earth, sunshine, and water ; or like the stomach in its reception of pleasant and digestible food, and its rejection of that which is unsavory and insalubrious, or incapable of be- ing turned into nutriment for the body. In short, the brute head or brain is homogeneous with the brute senses and the brute stomach, and governed by the same laws, and is not at all, in kind or degree, a human mind. I. We first take up the elements of brute life, and see how they develop themselves, and what are the results as compared with the development of the elements of the soul of man. a. In the first place, in order to show the generic difference between the human mind as spirit, and brute nature as mere life, we may note the facts in the foregoing schedule of a complete humanity which belong exclusively to humanity, and which are not found in brute nature; viz., Self-law, Liberty, Free Will, Affections, Intellect, Conscience, Essential Reknowing, Free Cause, Spirit, Personality. 45 • 354 AUTOLOGY. 6. These facts, which do not appear at all in brute nature, speak for themselves, and show that the nature to which they belong' must be very different from that nature which is unable to produce them. c. We here also give the facts which remain unto brute being after the facts peculiar to humanity are taken away. A portion of the facts thus remaining are, as we shall see at the close of this article, peculiar to brute being, while the larger portion it holds in common with inani- mate nature or mere force. Facts in Brute' Life. 1. Essential Activity. 2. Essential Intelligence. 3. Essential Self. 7. Being. 8. Diversity. 9. Identity. 10. Resemblance. 11. Cause. 12. Effect. 13. The dynamical connection between cause and effect. 14. The dynamical identity of cause and effect. 15. Motion. 16. Number. 17. Time. 18. Substance. 19. Qualities. 23. The dynamical relation between substance and qualities. 24. The essential identity of substance and qualities. 25. Action and Reaction. 31. Object. 32. Whole and Part. 33. Measure. 34. Space. 35. Impenetrability. 39. Matter. 40. Mode of Being. 41. Actual. 42. Possible. 43. Necssary. We now take up the difference of human and brute being more par- ticularly. First, a. The difference between brute nature and human nature will very readily appear when we consider that a necessary self is the essence or substance of brute nature, while free will is the essence or substance of human nature. b. Man has the five elements of essential activity, intelligence, indi- viduality, law, and liberty, — all combining to produce essential will, the essence, centre, and substance of the mind; while the brute has only the two elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, or conscious- ness, producing in their combination only a self or individuality, as the centre and substance of brute mind, and stopping there. c. These two primordial elements in brute life, although analogous to those in human life, are yet so totally different from them that they have no power of any further development as essence or substance, but stop exactly there, when they have produced a self; while the human elements go on developing and combining until they produce, as we have seen, self-law, liberty, and free will. Here is the first great, broad, and generic difference between man and brute ; man has a free will as his essence and substance, while the brute has only a necessary self as the essence or substance of its being. Secondly. This abridgment that cuts off the will from brute nature, leaving it only a self, extends also to all the faculties that are developed as qualities from this substance. THE INTELLECT. 355 a. For as the human will as substance and essence of human nature develops the homogeneous qualities of affections, intellect, and con- science, as naturally growing out of that substance, so the self, which is the essence and substance of brute nature, produces or develops neces- sarily into its own humogeneous and appropriate qualities ; and these qualities, like this substance, are totally diverse from the qualities of human nature. b. The affections of the brute — or, rather, that in the brute which is in some sort analogous to the affections in man — are developed, not from a free will, but from an involuntary and necessary self as then- essence and substance, and, consequently, differ in kind totally from human affections. They are not affections, but only self-sustentative propensities, parentive feelings, gregarious sympathies, and self-defensive dispositions. Thirdly, a. The same is true also of the intellect (if intellect the brute may be said at all to have ; for it, in fact, has none). That which in the brute is analogous to the human intellect is also developed from the same low grade of consciousness, not from the intelligence that has already developed itself into self-law, liberty, and free will, but from the intelligence that has only become a self by joining with the essential activity. b. Now, from this degree, or, rather, kind of essential intelligence, there can be developed no mind whatever, but only a sensuous conscious-' ness ; for both the intelligence and the activity of the brute must differ in kind, as well as in the degree, from the human mind ; and that from the very fact that they will not, and cannot, develop themselves into anything above a self. The brute has, properly speaking, no mind, no intellect at all, just as it has no will at all, but only a necessary self. c. No intellect can be developed from that low form of consciousness which is unable to rise above a self and create a will. The human intel- lect springs from the essential intelligence of the human mind — that intelligence, or consciousness, which has already developed itself into a free will. It could not spring from any element which could not pro- duce a free will, or from any essence or substance less than a free will. d. And this human intellect consists of consciousness, reason, and the sense, while the brute has neither of these properties like those in man, but only a low Order of consciousness, which springs from an intelligence and an activity so low that they can produce only a self as the essence or substance of brute nature ; and then the sense, made up of physical re- sistance and the five senses, inhering directly in this self as the essence aud substance of brute life. The reason is the chief faculty of the intellect proper, — the reason with its comprehending power producing ideas, and with its cognitive powers by means of ideas cognizing through the senses, 356 AUTOLOGY. — but the brute knows external objects only by a sensuous conscious- ness, or by consciousness through the sense, with no mind, no intellect. e. But it will be asked, " Has not the brute essential activity and essential intelligence, and do not these give it the consciousness that it is a self? and is not this self the essence of brute nature ? " Certainly ; yet self is only a necessary self, to the end ; and this consciousness that it is a self differs from the human consciousness of a self which is quickened into a free will, and which is illuminated by the comprehending light of the reason and its ideas formed from the facts of consciousness. The brute self is a dark cellar of mere necessary forces ; the human will is a luminous centre and a free force. /. But as to cognitions, the brute has nothing to cognize with ; it has no ideas, no conceptions, and no cognizing faculty, because it has no reason. The human mind has the ideas of the reason as a universal language ; and the same reason which formed them into this language is interpreter to translate the objects of sense iuto this language. But the brute has no ideas, no universal and soul language ; for it is not a soul, and it has no interpreter to translate the facts of sense into this language of the soul ; hence it has no power of cognition, and can cognize nothing. g. What, then, are these knowings of the brute by which he selects his food, follows his keeper, goes to his stall and to pasture, and becomes docile and domestic, — and, if you will, is sagacious and strategic ? To this it is replied, as in the beginning of this section, that this apparent cognition comes under the head of elective affinities, and of simple and successive consciousnesses of separate and isolated facts : precisely as the brute is conscious of hunger and thirst, so is he conscious of any other modification of his conditions and relations. h. He seeks stall or pasture, and follows or serves his keeper, wears harness or submits to toil, and comes to feeding and to water, plays with his keeper or his kind, or gambols alone, all from the same animal and sensual wants, propensities, dispositions, and affinities, and not at all from rational considerations. He is allied to nature, and not to man ; he has affinity with all forms of inert, and vegetable, and animal life, but none at all with the rational soul of man. As the brute has no will, so it has no reason ; and as it has no freedom, so it has no comprehension ; but if no reason nor comprehension, then, of course, it has no ideas, and, consequently, can have no cognitions, but only sensuous conscious- nesses of isolated and single facts and things. As the sense inheres directly in the self, so all the facts that come before the sense are mere sensuous consciousnesses of facts, and not at all cognitions of them. The brute mind is conscious of external things singly and as single things just as it is conscious of itself. Fourthly, a. The essential activity and the essential intelligence THE INTELLECT. 357 of the brute, which are unable to develop themselves into a will, affec- tions, and an intellect, are also most certainly unable to develop them- selves into a conscience ; for without a free will having self-law and liberty, there can be no proprietorship, and if no proprietorship, then there is no one to use a conscience, there is no use for a conscience, as, in fact, there is no volitional and rational force to make a conscience, and nothing to make a conscience out of. The conscience springs from the activity and intelligence of the soul after they have become respec- tively will and reason. But if there is no reason, then there is nothing to give a rule or law for the conscience to decide by ; and if no will, nobody to exercise a law over. b. If the essential activity and the essential intelligence, which are the primal elements of the mind, are not of a kind, and have not strength inherent and forceful enough in them to develop themselves above a self into self-law, liberty, and free will, then are they not of a kind which is able to produce affections for a free will, nor a reason for a free will, nor a conscience for a free will, and they do not do it. They are only able to produce a self, and then to superadd a few selfish and low propensities, and parentive and gregarious feelings, and self-defensive dispositions, and no intellect at all, but only a consciousness and the senses ; and as for a conscience, they are unable to produce it at all. As brute life has no free will, it is impossible that it should have any rea- son or any conscience. c. That essential intelligence in the brute that has already failed to develop itself into self-law and liberty, can surely never become the faculty of reason, to form ideas of law or liberty, or to make a cognition of law or liberty, or any matter connected with it ; nor has it any cog- nizance of anything made up of, or dependent upon, law or liberty ; hence, most obviously, such an intellect can never be a human intellect, nor do the work, nor have the range, of a human intellect, but must always be only a brute consciousness ; for precisely here is the distinc- tion between the brute and a human being. The brute stops at self, mere self, necessary self; the human being adds self-law and liberty to a self, and thereby produces will, free, responsible, answerable will, which, as substance of the mind, produces affections, intellect, and conscience, as its qualities. d. Thus the whole brute differs totally from the whole man in all the departments of their nature ; viz., will, affections, intellect, and conscience, and in physical body. To sum up, 1. The brute has no will, but only a self, while man has both. 2. The brute has no affections, but only dispositions, propensities, and feelings, while man has all. 358 AUTOLOGY. 3. The brute has no reason nor ideas, but only consciousness and the sense, while man has them all. 4. The biute has no conscience nor any discernment of moral differ- ences, but only a gregariousness, and a pleasure in approbation ; while man has conscience, discerns moral differences, and loves society and the approbation of others also. 5. The brute has lower instincts than man. Man has instincts of ra- tionality; of freedom, and also of parental, humane, ethical, sesthetical, and religious affections, while the brute has only appetitive, parentive, and gregarious instincts. 6. a. The brute has not the human body, nor can it have. This sub- ject comes up more properly in Division IV., under the head of Embodi- ment, but is pertinent here. The brute has a brute body, not by acci- dent, not to his detriment, but because it is a brute, and is incapable of filling an}^ other body. The brute body is not only best adapted to the brute mind, but is the natural outgrowth of the brute mind, and because the brute mind could in no way produce a human, or any other body but its own brute body. b. All bodies are the growth of the mind, just as all plants and grains are the growth of their own seeds and roots. And precisely as wheat produces wheat, and as the seed of an elm tree produces an elm tree, — as an elm seed cannot produce wheat, nor wheat produce an elm tree, — just so can no brute mind produce a human body, but must produce its own body. c. The brute has no cunning of human invention to need the human hand, no thoughts of the human reason to need the human voice ; it has no free will to choose, no affection to carry out, no conscience to discern and enforce moral differences, and, therefore, has no power within him to produce, as he has no nature to need, the human body,, so fearfully and wonderfully made, walking erect in the image of God. d. But the brute does need the brute body just as it is, and would be poor and destitute without it. A human mind might much better be in a brute body than a brute mind in a human body ; for a human mind could wield the brute bodily forces and live in a brute tenement, but a brute could not wield the forces of the human body, nor live a single year in it as a tenement of his mind. Thus do both mind and body prove the distinction in kind, and not simply in degree, of man and brute. e. Brutes have an animal organization with the five senses in some respects more enduring, acute, and powerful than man; yet they have not hands, nor the power of speech. The want of these lays them un- der great disabilities — with them they would be much more formidable, and if tamed more useful. Yet the fact that whole races of men with THE INTELLECT. 359 hands and speech never emerge from barbarism is proof that these gifts would not elevate the brute. f. Moreover, the brute body and members are a necessary growth of the brute intelligence and life. The brute is not placed under any disabilities by his body, but has as much body as he has brain, as many members as he has wits. The body grows out of, and on to, the mind, and is what the mind is ; hence a brute is a brute in mind and in body ; and here is the difference between man and brute, clear and distinct. (See Division IV.) II. But this difference between man and the brute will appear yet more fully when we consider facts — facts of brute life as they appear in his actions and habits. 1st. Brutes show no free will. They never exercise free choice, but have only an involuntary self, and not a free will. a. Their self is made up of essential activity and essential intelli- gence combining in a self; but these elements never develop and re- combine into self-law, and liberty, and will, as do the elements of a human self. The brute is, therefore, not will, but self; not free, but necessary force, different both in kind and in degree from the human self and will. 2d. a. The brute exercises no affections, or, if he does, they are only of the lowest order and degree. The brute has not affections, properly so called, but only animal appetites, self-sustentative propensities, pa- rentive feelings, gregarious sympathies, and defensive dispositions. b. This is all : a brute never loves nor hates, while man has the whole range of affections, with all their multiplied subordinate classes and manifestations of individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, aes- thetic, and religious affections. 3d. The brute has no reason ; for it never forms ideas or rationalizes, it never argues or reasons, never discerns cause or end, intent or de- sign, never imagines, never theorizes, never invents or improves, never enhances or sublimates, never beautifies, never makes a theology ; while man, with his reason, his conscience, and his heart, and his free will, does all these things. a. The brute never comprehends. He has only the consciousness that he is a self, but has no rational comprehension of what that self is. Self-consciousness is one thing, self-comprehension is another thing. The one is mere consciousness, the other is reason. The one gives mere being ; the other gives being not only, but the mode of being, and the end of being ; looks back to a cause and forward to a result. The former is a mere brute power, the latter a human endowment. b. The brute never cognizes. His consciousness develops itself 360 AUTOLOGY. through the senses, and thus becomes conscious of external objects, as matters of consciousness rather than of cognition. Of cognition proper the brute has no capability ; for it has no ideas or conceptions ; and if it has not conceptions, it, of course, has no cognition ; and if no cogni- tion, no memory. (See Division VI.) Its knowings, therefore, are a succession of sensuous consciousnesses rather than of such cognitions as the human mind is capable of. The brute simply becomes conscious of each object separately through the senses, and discriminates, by the agreeableness or disagreeableness to the senses and appetites, that which comes before it. It has only sensuous consciousness with that instinct which the senses and bodily organs, and appetites, and sensibil- ities give, as to food, self-preservation, and its young, and as to its haunts, its keeper, and its home, for which the brute is peculiar. c. The brute does not seem properly to remember ; for memory re- quires the possession of a conception of the object remembered, just as cognition in the first instance does, which the brute has not and cannot have. But the brute retains an object or event agreeable or painful so long as the consciousness lasts, aud then loses it until a new sensu- ous consciousness, occasioned by contact or the senses, renews the con- sciousness of it. Thus there is no memory, but only a succession of separate and sensuous consciousnesses by which the brute both knows and retains the knowledge of objects. . It retains the consciousness of an object or event, or it very readily revives it by corning again into its presence ; but this is not memory nor cognition, but only sensuous consciousness. The brute intelligence is as much below the human mind and as totally diverse from it as the brute self is below the human will, and the brute heart below the human heart. 4th. Brutes never discern nor regard any moral differences, have no sense of obligation, no impulse to duty, no regard for the right, no rep- rehension of the wrong. The faculty of conscience, like that of the will, is wholly wanting. Thus, with no will, but only a necessary self; no affections, but only animal feelings ; no reason, but only a sensuous consciousness, and no conscience at all, — the brute is distinct, in both kind and degree, from man. The primary facts of brute life as distinguished from man are : 1. Es- sential activity and Essential intelligence, producing a mere necessary self. 2. Instead of Will, it has Self as substance. 3. Instead of the Affections as Qualities, it has Self-sustentative propensities, Self-defen- sive dispositions, Parentive feelings, Gregarious sympathies. 4. Instead of Intellect, it has Consciousness and Sense. The facts which are found in animal life, but which are not found in the forms of inanimate nature, are these, viz. : — THE INTELLECT. 361 I. Essential Activity, Essential Intelligence, Essential Self. II. Self-sustentative Propensities, Self-defensive Dispositions, Paren- tive Feelings, Gregarious Sympathies, Brute Body. III. As a Knowing Faculty. 1. Consciousness. 2. Sense. The facts which are found in inanimate nature, and held by it in com- mon with both animal life and the human mind, will appear in the follow- ing article. C. Inanimate Nature. By inanimate nature is meant Force, not dead matter, for there is no such thing ; nor yet mere matter, for matter is simply the capacity to fill space, and both the human mind and animal life have matter in this respect as much as inanimate nature has. Matter may be affirmed of spirit and life as much as of force ; for they both have impenetrability, as we have seen, and whatsoever has impenetrability has and fills space, and whatsoever fills space has matter; for that is matter, viz., the capacity to (ill space. What the thing is with which space is filled makes no difference as to its being properly called matter; the matter of a thing is its reality filling space. This has already appeared in the facts of consciousness set forth in this chapter, and will appear again in the work of the Reason in giving ideas, in the next chapter. Inanimate nature is, therefore, more properly termed force ; force as distinguished from life and spirit. As such it has certain properties which it holds in common with life and spirit, while they have some properties which it has not. a. In noting the difference between inanimate nature or force, on the one hand, and animal life and the human mind, or lite and spirit, on the other, we observe that inanimate nature or force has certain essential facts, activities, and conditions, such as cause, effect, time, quantity, action and reaction, substance, quality, and possible, real, and necessary modes of existence ; but has no vital force, no consciousness, no self, no sensibilities, no intelligence, no senses, as have men and animals. Man, rising over all, has all the elements found in nature and in animal life, with the addition of those of personality or spirit, as will, affections, intellect, and conscience. And here it will assist us in discerning the difference between mere inanimate nature, or force, on the one hand, and brute being and the human mind, on the other, to give those facts in the foregoing complete schedule of the human mind, which are found in the human mind and in brute being, and not in inanimate nature, or force. 1. In the human mind, and not in inanimate nature, are found Essential Activity, Intelligence, Self, Self-law, Liberty, Free Will, Affections, Intellect, Conscience, Reknowing, or Remembering, Free Cause, Com- plete Personality, the Human Body. 2. In brute being, and not in inani- 362 ' AUTOLOGY. mate nature, Essential Activity, Intelligence, Self, Self-sustentative pro- pensities, Self-defensive dispositions, Parentive feeling's, Consciousness, the Sense, Gregarious sympathies, the Brute Body. These facts found in the human mind and in brute being, and not in inanimate nature, show that there must be a generic difference between them. It is true, how- ever, that in. the largest part of the facts of consciousness, inanimate nature holds them in common with the human mind and with brute being. b. But it must not be inferred, because inanimate nature and animal life have some things in common, that they therefore are of the same homogeneity, and that they differ only as to' degree or quantity ; nor let it be supposed, because brutes and men have some things in common, that therefore they are the same in kind, differing only in degree. This is not at all inferable from the facts ; but, on the contraiy, the 1'act that nature has only cause, effect, time, quantity, space, action, reaction, substance, quality, and never rises to the height of life and intelligence, is proof that inanimate nature and animal life differ in kind, and not simply in degree. c. The fact that animal life (though having, seeming^, the same pri- mordial elements as the mind of man. viz., essential activity and essen- tial intelligence, and by the combination of them has a self, and by the further development of them has also animal feelings and sensuous consciousness) never develops itself into will, affections, reason, and conscience, is proof that even in its original elements it differs from the mind of man. d. For, if will, affections, and reason, and conscience were in those primordial elements, then certainly they would come out ; nay, of neces- sity they would come out, as in the case of man. But the fact that they do not come out is proof positive that they are not there. Thus it is clear that inanimate nature is both below and distinct from ani- mate nature, and that animate nature is distinct from and below the mind of man. The higher may possess somewhat of the lower, but the lower has not the higher. The difference, therefore, between inanimate nature and animal life is generic and qualitative, and not simply in de- gree and quantitative. And the difference between men and animals is also generic and qualitative, and not simply that of degree and quantity. e. The mind of man has within it cause, effect, time, quantity, space, action and reaction, substance, and qualities, and other facts of mere nature and life, and may be cognized so far forth under these categories ; but these will not give the whole of the mind. We must also have the personal categories of will, affections, intellect, sense, and conscience, in order fully to cognize it. /. So also has the human mind not only essential activity, essential intelligence, or consciousness, producing self, some low sensibilities and THE INTELLECT. ' 363 desires and the senses in common with the brutes, but it has more ; it has not only activity, intelligence, and self, but also will ; and not simply a few low feelings, propensities, and dispositions, but all orders of affections full and complete ; and not only sense, but reason and conscience. g. Man may thus descend in the range of his propensities to mere brute life, and from brute to inanimate nature ; but these can never come up to man. There is a development, to be sure, from nature up ; but there is also the addition of the principles of life and the principles of intelligence to inanimate nature to form brute life, and the addition of self-law and liberty, giving will and reason, affections and conscience, to the brute life, in order to make man a rational soul ; and these addi- tions are in kind, and not in degree. Inanimate nature has no facts which are exclusively its own ; neither has animal life ; but all the facts found in inanimate nature are- first found in man's nature, and also in animal life. So are all the facts of animal life found in man's nature, though combined with the facts which are exclusively man's, and essen- tially altered by them. The facts which inanimate nature has left unto it after taking out the facts found exclusively in man's nature, and those found in animal life, are these, viz. : — 7. Being. 8. Diversity. 9. Identity. 10. Resemblance. 11. Cause. 12. Effect. 13. Dynamical relation of cause and effect. 14. Identity of cause and effect. 15. Motion. 16. Number. 17. Time. 18. Sub- stance. 19. Quality. 23. The djmamical connection of substance and quality. 21. The indentity of substance and quality. 25. Action and Reaction. 31. Object. 32. Whole and Part. 33. Measure. 31. Space. 35. Impenetrability. 38. Force. 39. Matter. 40. Mode. 41.' Actual. 42. Possible. 43. Necessary. h. Having thus attained the facts of inanimate nature and animate life, and the facts of personality, we shall proceed to subject them to the crucible of reason, and see what ideas it will refine them into, or make out of them. We have already shown that it is the office of the con- sciousness to furnish original and primary facts to the reason, subjec- tive facts lying in its own being, and already in its own unaided grasp, and this we have now seen that it has actually done. The facts of simple being, of animal life, and the facts of personality, are now before the reason, being grasped and presented there by the consciousness. The first office of the reason is, as we have seen, to form ideas out of the first facts presented to it by the consciousness. The* next office of the reason is to cognize external objects, presented by physical resistance and the senses, by. means of these ideas thus formed from the facts of consciousness. We now take up the work of the reason in the forma- tion of ideas from the facts of consciousness. 364 AUTOLOGY. DIVISION II. ABSOLUTE KNOWING, OR THE ORIGIN AND NATURE OF IDEAS AND OF THE SENSE. CHAPTER II. THE REASON FORMS IDEAS FROM THE FACTS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. SECT. I. WHAT IS AN IDEA ? a. This section contains the following 1 inquiries. First. What is an idea ? Second. What is the difference between an idea and a conception ? Third. How can a universal idea be derived from a contingent fact? Fourth. Arc a priori ideas possible? b. We have found the faculties of the Intellect to be the Conscious- ness, and the Reason with the Sense ; and that all knowing is either spontaneous and absolute, or interpretative and relative ; and that there must of necessity be a spontaneous knowing before there can be an in- terpretative knowing, and an absolute knowing before there can be a relative knowing. c. We have also found that while the Consciousness can know facts directly, spontaneously, and absolutely, and while the Reason can comprehend ideas directly, spontaneously, and absolutely from those facts, yet that the Reason can cognize external objects only by means of ideas formed from the facts of consciousness on the one hand, and the intervention of the essential impenetrability, and the senses bringing it into contact with external objects, on the other ; and that the Reason must itself have and furnish those ideas, and physical resistance and the five senses must furnish this contact with the objects of the external world. 1. a. The question then arises which is now immediately before us, viz., What is an idea? How does the Reason obtain its ideas with which to cognize external objects ? and what has the Consciousness to do with furnishing those ideas ? b. We reply, that an idea is the comprehension of something, just as a consciousness is a consciousness of something, and that the Reason is the author to itself of its own ideas. THE INTELLECT. 865 6. It comprehends ideas spontaneously, just as the Consciousness cog- nizes subjective facts spontaneously. d. Yet as a consciousness must be a consciousness of something, so an idea must be an idea of something ;' there must needs be something known beforehand which the Reason may comprehend, and of which, and upon which, it may form or comprehend its ideas. e. Not that the idea is any part or modification of the object, but simply the freeing of the object from limitation and contingency. That which is limited and contingent is object. That which is universal and necessary is idea. An idea is a delimitized fact — a fact set free ; as a slave becomes a freeman, so a fact transfigured into an idea is disin- thralled, emancipated, and enfranchised b} r the reason into a freeman and citizen of the whole empire of thought and knowledge. f. Now, there are certain primary facts which the Consciousness fur- nishes, from which, and of which, the Reason, by a sort of transfigura- tion, — a transfiguration like that by which physical becomes spiritual, and mortal becomes immortal, — forms its ideas, and without which it could have no ideas ; rather, that which to the eye of Consciousness is a mere contingent fact, is by the eye of Reason seen to be a necessary idea or a universal principle. But until the Consciousness first sees it as a fact, the Reason can never see or comprehend it as a principle. - g. An idea is the comprehending of something ; but how can there be a comprehending unless there be a something to be comprehended ? There must, therefore, be a fact before there can be an idea; and this fact is con- tingent, limited, and individual, while the idea is universal and necessary. h. As. for instance, that one right angle is precisely equal to another right angle is a limited, particular, individual, and contingent fact seen by the senses and verified by experiment; but that all right angles must be equal is a principle seen only by the Reason after the particular fact is given, and it is an unlimited, universal, and neces- sary truth. Now, this is what is meant by an idea, and by forming an idea by the Reason from a fact of consciousness. 2. a. And here we come upon the difference also between a concep- tion and an idea. A conception of a thing is the grouping in the mind of the prominent characteristics by which its individuality and identity are made out and immediately known ; but this conception is, by its nature and definition, contingent and individual, and confined to the one object of which it is the conception, and inapplicable to any other, while an idea is the comprehension of that, in any object, which is universal and neccssaiy. b. That the right angle in the quadrant before me is precisely like the right angle in the square of the carpenter, is a contingent fact. I may conceive that fact, and go out with that conception, and cognize other squares with it ; but that all right angles must be equal everywhere is an 366 AUTOLOGY. idea of the Reason of which I may be assured as true everywhere ; but the conception has no assurance of its truth beyond the individual case from which it is derived. The Reason may certainly form mere concep- tions of facts, but it will also form ideas which are both conceptions and something' more. 3. a. But here it is' asked, How can a necessary and universal idea be derived from a contingent and limited fact ? The reply is, that all mere facts except the existence of the Deity himself, are contingent and limited, and that they are formed into ideas, or rather ideas are formed . from them, by taking away that very limitation and contingency which are incompatible with necessity and universality. b. There is, however, a respect in which all contingent facts become necessary facts ; but this. has no bearing on the formation of ideas. While there is no antecedent necessity that a contingent fact should exist, yet when it does once exist and become an actual fact, then its actual ex- istence is a necessary fact which it would be" self-contradictory to deny, or suppose not to be ; for a thing cannot be, and not be, at the same time, nor when it has once been can it ever " not have been." The fact of its having existed is a necessity, a necessary fact. Tims every con- tingent fact becomes, the instant that it exists, a necessary fact. c. Moreover, when a contingent fact once is, and thereby ceases (so far as the fact or event of its being is concerned) to be a contingent fact, and becomes a necessary fact, then it becomes the necessary and ab- solute evidence that some necessary cause must have existed before it, either immediately or farther off ; and thus have we the fact and the proof of the existence of necessary facts. And thus we see that the facts from which universal and necessary ideas are found are,- or may be, in some respects, necessary facts, though that contributes nothing to the formation of ideas. d. That God is, as the first cause, and exists necessarily, is thus de- monstrated by the existence of man, whose contingent being, and rational, volitional, and ethical nature, demand for him a personal and absolute cause. e. But the answer will more fully appear when we consider that all necessary ideas are ideas of relations ; viz., the relation of objects to their own constituents, or the relation of the constituents of objects to each other, which by Kant are called analytical judgments : and the relation of objects to each other, which he calls synthetical judgments, and not truths of objects merely. /. It is also manifest that these relations exist first as 'mere particular facts, dependent on other contingent facts, before they can be known as necessary or universal ideas or principles ; therefore facts must, of necessity, first be, and be known as facts, before the relation of facts can be ; and the relation of facts must be known as a particular fact or concep- tion before it can be known as a universal and necessary idea or principle. THE INTELLECT. . 3GT g. For instance, says Kant, we cannot affirm of anything that it must be ; that is, that its non-existence would be absurd ; but we can affirm that if something is, the non-existence of a certain relation would be absurd. We may say that the sum of three angles of a triangle must be equal to two right angles ; that if the triangle actually has an exist- ence, it would be absurd to deny this ; but it is not absurd, and it implies no contradiction to say that no triangle exists, and if no triangle, of course no angles, and no equality of the sum of its three angles to two right angles exists at all as a' fact. h. And just so of any necessary truth ; it depends for its actual and real existence on a contingent fact. The existence of a triangle is a contingent fact, and the relation of the sum of its angles to two right angles is a particular fact, and contingent of course also as a simple fact, inasmuch as its existence depends on a contingent fact. But the triangles being first given as a contingent fact, and the relation being first given as a simple fact, the Reason delimits and transfigures it into a necessary and universal principle. But all ideas are necessary truths, and, therefore, must be truths of relation, and therefore demand also that facts should first be, before they can be. i. For instance, the idea of man is a necessary and universal idea ; i. e., if man exist at all, he must exist in accordance with the idea of man. A certain combination of mind and matter constitutes man — this is the necessary idea of man ; whether man exists at all or not is a con- tingent fact; If man exists at all, he must conform to certain con- stituents of humanity. This conformity to the constituents of humanity is a necessary truth ; but still 'this conformity of man to the constituents of humanity is a relation, and must exist as a single and contingent fact dependent on the contingent fact of man's existing at all, before it can be known as a necessary truth. 4. a. Since, therefore, there must always be a contingent fact be- fore there can be a necessary truth, idea, or principle, it follows that an a priori idea is impossible, and that an a priori science is an absurdity. A science that' pretends to have an idea before facts, and as the con- dition of facts, is utterly preposterous. b. A science of external nature may be built on principles that are a priori to the facts of external nature, but those principles themselves must first be based on facts, or they never could be. c. A science of the mind built on principles a priori to the facts of the mind is doubly absurd. The mind must needs exist before it can make a science of itself. It must be conscious that it exists, or it can cognize nothing ; and if it is conscious of its own existence, then it has a fact before it has a principle, idea, or relation of that fact. d. To say that a man may or must have an idea of how he must be, 368 AUTOLOGY. and what he must be, before he can be conscious that he is, is a contra- diction in terms. e. Facts of consciousness, then, are both chronologically and logically before ideas or principles in the science of the mind, and a system of psychology built on a 'priori principles is both an historical and a philo- sophical blunder ; for facts of consciousness must, of necessity, bo known before any idea of the Reason in relation to the mind can have existence ; and historically they ai-e first in being as well as first in being known, i. e., they are both logically and chronologically first and before ideas. /. And this is true of the divine as well as the human mind. God must be as a fact before his own thoughts or deeds ; hence the being of God is the standard of truth as well as the rule of right. All ideas must come from the ultimate facts of God's being ; therefore before 1 we can know external objects we must not only have the categories which are the ideas formed from the facts of relations, but we must have the facts that give those relations, and make them both possible and real. g. We must have a super-categoric knowing before we can have a sub-categoric knowing, and before we can have categories at all ; that is, Ave must know the categories, — i. e., the ideas and "principles — of things before we can know external things ; and we must know facts before we can know the ideas or categories which are based upon them. We therefore seek first for the facts of consciousness, which are the bases of the ideas and categories of the Reason, and then, with these ideas or categories, we are prepared to cognize external objects when they are brought before us, by physical 'resistance or the operations of the senses. SECT. II. THE DIFFERENCE IN THE RELATION OF THE REASON TO THE CONSCIOUSNESS IN FORMING IDEAS, FROM ITS RELATION TO IT IN COGNIZING EXTERNAL FACTS. 1. a. The fa^ts of consciousness are given with the consciousness that gives us being itself, and which gives us the mind and its faculties. b. These primary facts are, therefore, in possession before the Reason or the senses have acted, or can act at all, so that when the Reason comes into action, it finds them already on hand in the consciousness. These facts are, therefore, chronologically, as well as logically, before the Reason and its ideas. Facts are, and must be, before ideas can be. c. As the Reason finds itself already in the embrace of consciousness when it first awakes to life, so also it finds itself in the midst of the multitude of the facts of consciousness. d. Rather, the self is first conscious of itself and of the facts oon- THE INTELLECT. 369 nected therewith that make up and define the self, before it is, or can be, conscious of holding 1 the Intellect or its faculties in inherence. 2. a. And now the Reason, finding itself already in the midst of these facts, what does it clo ? The office of the Reason is different from that of Consciousness in this respect — the Consciousness gives us only, facts, primary and essential to be sure, but only contingent and in- cidental, while the Reason gives us ideas and principles which are uni- versal and necessary, and are the rational comprehension and explanation of those facts. &, Rather, since the idea must be an idea of something, and a prin- ciple must be a principle of something, and cannot exist, or be, before something is, the Reason takes these primary facts of Consciousness and delimits, transmutes, transfigures, and glorifies them into necessary and universal ideas and principles. c. For the difference between a fact or thing and a principle or idea is this; viz., that the idea or principle is freed from the individuality, limitation, and contingency that belong to, and constitute, particular facts and individuals. d. The Reason is an independent faculty, and knows immediately and absolutely by its own inherent capability, just as the Consciousness is essentially conscious, and knows immediately and absolutely by its own capability. e. And the knowledge which the Reason gives is original and abso- lute knowledge, distinct, in kind from that furnished by the Conscious- ness ; different as thought and thing, fact and principle, object and idea. As the Consciousness must cognize the facts within its grasp, so mnst the Reason comprehend the principle or idea of these facts. As the Consciousness cannot cognize without having something to cognize, so the Reason cannot comprehend or idealize without having something to idealize or comprehend. f. Now, the Consciousness, because it is self-seeing and able to cog- nize or see itself directly as a fact, finds its object of knowledge in itself. But the Reason, though it is essentially self-comprehending, cannot comprehend itself directly until it is given to itself as an object of the Consciousness ; for the Reason has no self-consciousness of its own ; it comprehends itself, and comprehends that it does comprehend itself, after the Consciousness gives it to itself. As the eye does not see itself, but sees other objects, so the Reason does not see itself, but sees other objects. The Reason, however, will comprehend itself as it compre- hends other objects, when it is properly brought before itself. g. But the Consciousness is essentially self-seeing, and it, therefore, is able to furnish the first facts to the Reason, which are necessary, in order that it may cognize and comprehend them ; and the Reason finds 47 370 AUTOLOGY. these facts in the Consciousness, coeval with its own existence ; and it takes hold of them, and forms from them, or, rather, discovers in them, ideas and principles. h. And here we clearly discern the difference in the relation of the Reason to Consciousness in the formation of ideas, from its relation to Consciousness in the cognition of external facts. In the formation of ideas we have seen that the Reason finds the facts already and before- hand in the embrace of Consciousness ; and from their being and rela- tions it forms or comprehends its ideas. In cognizing external objects the Reason finds them outside of the Consciousness ; and its office is to introduce them, and bring them into the Consciousness by means of physical resistance, or the five senses, and its own idea. i. In the case of forming ideas from the facts of Consciousness, the knowing of the Reason is immediate and absolute, a rational spontaneity. In the case of cognizing external objects, the knowing of the Reason is mediate and relative, and an interpretation of the facts of sense by the ideas of the Reason. SECT. III. THE REASON' DOES ITS WORK OF TRANSFORMING FACTS INTO IDEAS. a. Taking up the work of the Reason in comprehending the facts of Consciousness, and in forming them into ideas, we find that it proceeds by delimiting them of all that is individual and contingent, and thus transfiguring them into universal and necessary ideas. 6. For to take away the individuality and the contingency that. belong to a fact, is to comprehend it, and change it from a fact to an idea. 1. The Idea of Life. a. The first fact given to us by the Consciousness is that of essential activity. This is the fact of life, the vital principle. b. From this fact the Reason takes away the limits which confine it to an individual being, and thus transforms it into an idea, the universal and necessary idea of life. In other words, the Reason sees by its own original intuition and insight, not only that this life of the soul of which it is conscious is essentially living and essentially active, but that all life is, and necessarily must be, a living and essential activhVv. c. In this manner it forms the necessary and universal idea of life, by delimiting and transfiguring the individual and contingent fact of the essential and living activity of which the mind is conscious into a uni- versal and necessary idea of all life, and life in all places. 2. The Idea of Knowingness. a. The second fact given by the Consciousness is that of essential THE INTELLECT. 311 intelligence. This is the fact of essential knowingness, knowing per- petually and involuntarily, knowing co-etaneously and co-extensively with life itself. b. Essential knowingness is the mind's ever and perpetually being conscious, and conscious that it is conscious. This fact the Reason de- limits and transforms into the necessary and universal idea of know- ingness. c. The idea here found is not that of knowing in its largest, but in its smallest, most primitive, generic, and essential sense ; that knowing- ness with which the mind begins to know, and by which alone it can begin to know. d. This knowingness combines in itself the power of both sense and of reason, as has been shown ; so that it can give subjective facts with- out the help of either the Sense or_ the Reason ; and thus it is, in the concrete, what Sense and Reason are in their separate capacities, and can do alone, in respect to subjective facts, what they unitedly can do in reference to external objects; viz., both sensate and cognize them. e. Hence it is the original and essential knowingness of the soul, and is the fact from which, by delimitation, the Reason forms the universal and necessary idea of knowingness. 3. The Idea of Self. a. The third fact of Consciousness is that of essential self. This is formed by the combination of the two elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, producing self-consciousness, or the consciousness of a self. b. This fact the Reason delimits and comprehends as the necessary and universal idea of individuality or self; i. e., all selves must of necessity have these elements, and these elements always and every- where constitute a self. 4. The Idea of Self law. a. The fourth fact which the Consciousness gives is that of essential self-law. This individual fact the Reason transforms irito a universal idea by taking away all that limits it, and makes it contingent. b. Self, as an element, recombined with essential activity and essen- tial intelligence, gives the contingent fact of self as an end of action, which the Reason transforms into the necessary and universal idea of self-law ; i. e., all self-law is necessarily self-end, self as an end of ac- tion ; and whatsoever thus has its end of action in itself, has of neces- sity self-law. c. The Reason sees this to be both necessary and universal, and thus ' it forms its universal and necessary idea of self-law. 372 AUTOLOGY. d. I am my own law of action. I am a law unto myself. My own I, egoism, or self, is my law ; not my appetites, my passions, or my love of gain or glory ; these are not my law ; if they were, they would be my masters. But my own manhood asserts itself as its own law, and its own master, and its own proprietor; and this fact the Reason delimits and transforms from a contingent fact into the universal and necessary idea of self-law. 5. The Idea of Liberty. a. The fifth fact given by Consciousness is that of liberty ; and this fact the Reason delimits and transfigures into the universal and neces- sary idea of liberty. b. Self-law is the soul of liberty. A self which has self-law has lib- erty. We have seen that the -two elements, essential activity and essen- tial intelligence, combined, produce the self ; and that this self, as a distinct element thus produced, when recombined with the two original elements, produces self-law. c. We now see that this self-law, recombined with all these elements which precede it, becomes the law of the self, and thus gives liberty to the self; for whatsoever has its own activity, momentum, or life, in itself, and its own law in itself, i. e., has itself for its law, and asserts itself in its action, has liberty. d. The Reason sees this to be the true idea of all liberty ; and this contingent and individual fact it delimits and transfigures into the ne- cessary and universal idea of liberty. 6. The Idea of Free Will. a. The sixth fact given by the Consciousness is that of. essential free will. The combination of the five elements, essential activity, essential intelligence, essential self, essential self-law, and essential liberty, pro-, duces essential free will. b. This fact the Reason delimits of its individuality and' contingency, and transforms into the necessary and universal idea of free will. All free will must necessarily have these elements, and these elements ne- cessarily produce a free will. 1. The Idea of Being. a. The seventh fact here noted as given by the Consciousness is that of being. This fact comes into Consciousness in the very first instance ; as when the Consciousness affirms, "I am conscious," the "lam" is the first thing affirmed, and this is being. b. But a moment's continuance of the act of Consciousness brings out the elements that lie deeper, viz., essential activity or life, and essen- tial intelligence, or Consciousness, and then essential self, which is the THE INTELLECT. 373 result in which they both coalesce ; and here is, in fact, the starting- point of consciousness; viz., in the affirmation of the concrete fact of self, or ego. This self, ego, or " I am," is the first fact affirmed, and is the fact of being. c. But the Consciousness soon detects this affirmation as a composite one, and discerns the elements of which it is composed, and ever after that, these elements stand first affirmed by the Consciousness, as we have given them. Nor does the Consciousness stop at the self, but pushes on in the development of essential self-law, and essential liberty, and essential free will, before it settles fully into the consciousness of the ego, or being. Hence we ha^e given those elements, an4 the ideas formed from them, first. d. The fact of being comes ever more and more into consciousness until the whole person is- complete ; but we pause here at the completed Will, and take the affirmation of being here given as the fact which the Eeasou delimits of its individuality and contingency, and transforms into the universal and necessary idea of being ; being in general, being as opposed to nothing. All reality is being, and all being has reality. e. The being here affirmed is that which the Consciousness engrasps, and whose impenetrability it declares by engrasping, rather than by contact with an exterior object. Impenetrability is the essence of being, of course ; yet that impenetrability may be known by surrounding, embracing, and comprehending in consciousness as well as by colliding and contusion ; and the Consciousness does thus affirm the impenetra- bility of the self and the essence of being. f. It is true, also, that the Consciousness, in surrounding and compre- hending the self by its own living intelligence, and thus affirming its individuality and impenetrability as a being, also separates it from, objectivity, and thus affirms the being of that from which it isolates the self; but the affirmation of the self as an impenetrable and real being does not depend on distinguishing it from objectivity. It is affirmed positively, and that whether there is a something or a nothing from which to distinguish it. g. Let it be observed that the impenetrability here affirmed by the Consciousness is that of the self, the ego, the me, the mind, the spirit, the soul of man itself; and that this impenetrability is the evidence, not of materiality, but simply of reality. It is impenetrable because it is a real and actual entity, and not a shadow, and because any two self- consciousnesses must necessarily be mutually objective, and incapable of occupying the same space at the same time, and not because it is material, or of the substance of mere nature ; as force or as hard matter, as wood or stone, or bones or flesh, or even electricity or gravitation. • 3U AUTOLOGY. h. All being has impenetrability, whatever be the kind of that being, whether mere material force, as nature, or animal life, as in brutes, or spirit, as in man ; and that because they .each and all have reality : even dead matter, or nature's forces, or animal life, has impenetrability ; not because of their materiality, but because of their reality. i. So also spirit, mind, soul, have impenetrability ; not because they have materiality, for they are not material, but because of their reality, for they do really and actually exist, and have a positive entity of their own. Impenetrability, therefore, belongs to all being alike, whether it be the forces of nature, animal life, or the human soul. (See Impene- trability.) 8. The Idea of Diversity. a. The eighth fact given by the Consciousness is that of diversity. It is found in the giving of the diverse and successive elements of the Will, especially in the very distinct consciousness of the two original elements of essential activity and essential intelligence. b. This fact, the Reason, by delimitation, relieves of its individuality and contingency, and transforms into the necessary and universal idea of diversity. 9. The Idea of Identity. a. The ninth fact given by the Consciousness is that of identity ; giveiij as we have seen, in the act of distinguishing diversity ; for there must be the affirmation of the identity of one thing be/ore there can be given the differing from it of another. b. The Consciousness affirms essential activity, and from it distin- guishes essential intelligence ; and then goes on. distinguishing all the other elements, and constantly affirming the identity and the difference of each and all of them. c. From this fact the Reason, by the act of comprehending and delim- itation, takes away the contingent and the individual, and affirms the necessary and the universal ; and this is the idea of identity. 10. The Idea of Resemblance. a. The tenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of resemblance. The Consciousness holds all the elements of the Will which it has given in the unity of a common inherence. b. They all differ as individual elements, yet they all resemble each other in the fact of inherence ; therefore the Consciousness gives this fact of inherence as common to them all, and on this fact the Reason forms the universal and necessary idea of resemblance, by which objects, differing and distinct from each other, have a common agreement, and may be associated together. This is the idea of resemblance. THE INTELLECT. 375 11. The Idea of Cause. a. The eleventh fact given by the Consciousness is that of cause. This fact is given by the combination of essential activity and essential intelligence, producing the self. b. These two original elements in their mutual action and reaction combine, and produce, as the result of their action, the self, found in self-consciousness. The essential activity is here a cause ; the essential intelligence is also a cause : they energize in producing a result. c. This fact of 'causation the Reason delimits of its individuality and contingency, and transfigures into a universal and necessary idea of all cause. d. The cause here given is a necessary cause ; for the action of the essential activity is necessary action ; so also is the action of the essential intelligence necessary action ; they are, therefore, necessary forces of life and intelligence producing the self, and are a fact of necessary cause. e. From the consciousness of this cause the Reason forms the neces- sary and universal idea of a necessary cause ; i. e., that all cause is essentially active, has necessary -activity, and must produce an effect ; and that every event or effect must have a cause. This necessary cause, it will be seen, is to be distinguished from free cause, which will be set forth in its place. 12. The Idea of Effect. a. The fact of Effect is disclosed by the operation of the same ele- ments that show the fact of cause. Essential activity and essential in- telligence, combining as causes, produce the self, as effect. b. This fact the Reason takes and transforms, by delimiting it of all individuality and contingency, into a universal and necessary idea ; i. e., that every cause must produce an effect or event, and every event or effect must have a cause. 13. The Idea of the Vital, and Dynamical and Necessary Relation between Cause and Effect. a. The thirteenth fact noted by the Consciousness is that of the vital and dynamical relation between cause and effect. This fact stands clearly in the consciousness, and is taken by the Reason and stripped of its mere contingency, and individuality, and transformed into the univer- sal and necessary idea of the vital, and dynamical, and necessary relation between all cause and effect. b. This connection between cause and effect, which is given as a con- tingent and individual fact in the consciousness, is seen by the Reason to be a necessary and universal fact, necessarily existing in all cases 376 AUTOLOGY. of cause aud effect ; and thus it is formed into a universal and neces- sary idea. 14. The Idea of the Necessary Identity of Cause and Effect. a. The fourteenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of the vital and dynamical identity of cause and effect ; that is, not that they are one in form, but they are essentially one and the same thing as being each the converse of the other. b. This fact, so distinct in consciousness, the Reason transforms by delimitation of contingency and individuality into a necessary and univer- sal idea of the essential identity of cause and effect. These facts all grow out of the very nature of cause and effect ; and the Reason sees them to be necessary and universal ideas. 15. The Idea of Motion. a. The next fact noted by the Consciousness is that of Motion. The essential activity and all the working of cause are facts of motion or change. b. Change in form, as well as change in place, is motion ; hence all development of the elements or faculties of the mind is motion. Fer- mentation and crystallization are motion as much as the running of water ; so also is all growth and decay motion. c. Motion may occur in a place, as well as to and from a place, in a change of elements and of form, as well as in a change of position or location ; and from these facts the Reason forms the necessary and universal ideas of motion, and of all things as in motion. 16. The Idea of Number. a. Number is the noting of motions or of individuals ; and each motion is an individual. We are conscious of number in the discerning and developing of the elements of the mind. We are conscious of the two primordial elements of the mind at the first, and then of each dis- tinctly, and of each of the succeeding three, making five. We are also conscious of the successive development of the qualities which inhere in the Will as their centre ; viz. t affections, intellect, and conscience. b. And thus number, as well as motion, is an original fact in the consciousness, and from it the Reason forms by delimitation the neces- sary and universal idea of number, as the computation of the units in a multitude, or the parts in a whole. 17. The Idea of Time. a. The seventeenth fact of Consciousness which we note is that of time. Time as a fact is given in the successive consciousnesses of THE INTELLECT. &i1 the developing elements and qualities of the mind, and also in the suc- cessions of cause and effect. • b. Time is thus the beginning, progress, and end of events. Time both begins, separates, and encloses a succession of events. It is known in consciousness with the events which fill it, and which it separates. There is no such thing as time which is not related to events ; it is either the space that encloses, or the space that separates events, and has no being, except with the events that it thus encloses or separates. c. It is purely a relation, like the hollow between two hills, which exists because they exist, and by means of their existence. Time en- closes the successive movements of the subjective experiences of the soul in thoughts and feelings, aud the motions of nature without. d. The measure, or notation, of time is, however, always taken from some external object, as the motions of the sun, moon, and .stars : by these all other movements, whether in the mind or in nature, are noted and measured. e. The true idea of time is, therefore, this ; viz., the beginning, prog- ress, and end, the enclosure and the separator of events ; which is pro- duced when they are produced, and ceases to exist when they cease to exist. /. This idea is formed from the fact of consciousness by delimiting it of individuality and contingency, and transfiguring it into a universal and necessary idea. g. Time is therefore finite, like the events which it begins, separates, ends, and encloses. It is just as large or extended, and no larger than the series of events which it begins, separates, ends, and encloses. Time can never exist without events. There can never be an utterly void space of time. There must always be. at least, the beginning and ending, the termini of time. h. A series of events may be swept away, and the space of ages which they occupied be left vacant ; but the events that mark the be- ginning and the ending of that space of time must remain, or it will also disappear. The error of holding to a void time arises out of confound- ing time and space with nothingness, or mere negative possibility. i. By nothingness is meant "negative possibility," for they are identical. The negative possibility of extending time from a given point onw«,rd depends, not on the supposed infiniteness of time, but on the negative possibility of projecting, or prolonging, a succession of causes indefinitely. j. The positive possibility of extending a succession of events in- definitely into the future, and thus of extending time, is the force that is in the cause of those events ; but the negative possibility is simply "the nothing-in-the-way," which makes it negatively possible to exert the cause and project the effect indefinitely. 48 378 AUTOLOGY. k. But this does not prove that time is infinite, but only that the nothing that lies beyond the present interposes no obstacle to pro- ducing* the future, if the force that produces the present is powerful and persistent enough to do so. I. This, then, is the true idea of time ; it is that which encloses and separates the succession of events. It is produced or created with them, and for them, and ceases when they cease. Millions of smaller events are measured, as to time, by the sun's yearly circuit ; but when these objects cease to be, and the sun which measured their date ceases to be, then will the time that began, and measured, separated, ended, and enclosed them, cease also ; and the negative possibility of their existence would alone remain. m. God has his own time in the depths of his own eternity. He was alone in the perfect sphere of his own being, with his own time and space within himself. There was nothing, literally nothing, outside of him ; he was the universe, as to reality, time, and-space ; there was not anything above, below, or around him. He then created objects and events with the space and time that enclose and separate them, and projected them out from himself. n. The negative possibility of space was thus occupied with space and an object in it ; and the negative possibility of time was occupied with time and an event to fill it : and beyond the space and the time thus created, and filled with objects and events, there was nothing, liter- ally nothing. o. It was still negatively possible to create more space and time and to fill them with objects and events beyond the space and time already created ; but that negative possibility is nothing : it is not space ; it-is not time ; it is only the negative possibility that they should be created. This negative possibility that time and space should be created is no more a something before time and space are created, than are the events which fill time, and the objects that fill space, something before they are created. p. Time and space are necessarily created simultaneously. The first event in time is always the creation of an object in space ; and the cre- ation of an object in space is an event of time. When God created and threw out the first object, he created an event, and that event -was the starting-point of time. Logically, an object would seem to come first, before an event, and space before time ; yet the creation of an ob- ject is an event. An event cannot be created in the first instance without an object, nor an object, without, at the same time, creating an event. q. God created thus the beginning of time in the act of creating the first object. The motions of that object marked the successive periods of time in the world created outside of God ; but God in himself has THE INTELLECT. 379 his own time, as a separate, original, and independent thing ; and he, as a free Creator and cause, threw off from himself, by an act of crea- tion, the universe with its successions of time : or, as Dr. Nott so eloquently expresses it, "God, from the centre of his own eternity threw off this countless train of ages, of which our life is but a single point." Some other one has said, " Time is a fragment of eternity cut off at both ends." 18. The Idea of Substance. a. The eighteenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of sub- stance. The Will, composed of its five elements, essential activity, es- sential intelligence, essential self, essential self-law, and essential lib- erty, is the actual substance of the mind, in which the qualities of the mind, viz., the Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience, inhere. b. From this contingent and individual fact the Reason forms the ne- cessary and universal idea of substance by delimiting it of its contin- gency and individuality. The idea of substance is that it is the essence and life of being, and holds all the qualities of being in the unity of a common inherence. c. It has been shown that the substance may have elements which in- here in each other and constitute its being. The substance so composed has qualities which inhere in it, but, it does not inhere in its qualities. ' d. By this are elements distinguished from qualities ; viz., that they inhere in each other, while qualities inhere in a common substance ; and by this is a substance distinguished from its elements and from its qualities, viz., it is composed of the former, and, when thus composed, holds the latter in inherence. e. But is not impenetrability essential to the idea of substance, of all substance, whether of the mind, or of mere nature, or of force ? It must be replied that two souls, each self-conscious, must, of necessity, be mutually objective ; and if objective, then mutually impenetrable. The self-consciousness of the one must exclude the self-consciousness of the other. While one self-consciousness includes and affirms its own self-conscious being, it must exclude the self-conscious being of the other ; and thus do they stand opposed to, and outside of, each other, and are mutually impenetrable ; for they cannot occupy the same point in space and time together. f. But is the substance of the mind, which we have already seen to be the Will, impenetrable when it comes in contact with mere force, or nature, called matter ? The reply is, that it must be so or be nothing ; for two entities cannot occupy the same space at the same time. g. Will it be said that all matter, or nature, or force, as opposed to spirit, is so porous as to be transparent or traversable by spirit, as 380 AUTOLOGY. glass is by the rays of light ? We reply, that, still, even these bodies %re essentially impenetrable ; for light will not pass through some bodies at all ; and with regard to the glass through which it goes, it does not, in fact, -go through the glass, but only through the holes or pores in it. The glass is essentially and literally impenetrable still. h. And so of soul, or spirit ; it may pass through much or all that is material, but it will, still, not be through it, but only through holes or pores in it. If real force, or matter, or animal life, should come into contact with spirit, and if neither should be porous, then would they certainly be found to be incapable of both occupying the same space at the same time. They would be mutually impenetrable. (See Ideas on Impenetrability, Matter, and Spirit.) i. It must not, however, be concluded that spirit is material, be- cause it is real and not a phantom. It must not be called mere force or mere animal life, or mere nature, in any form, because it is impenetrable. It is impenetrable because it is an entity, or a something, and not a nothing. ,;'. Spirit is as real as is force, life, or what is called matter. • Spirit is as real as body itself, and it does not cease to be spirit because it is impenetrable. k. Besides, it is not more strange that spirit should be impenetrable than that life and force should be impenetrable. They take on body, or matter, as we shall see, in the same manner that spirit does-; yet they are impenetrable without body. Force, life, and spirit have each impenetrability, are each objective and real, but are totally distinct in other respects. 19. The Idea of Quality. a. The nineteenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of quality. Quality is intimately connected with substance, and almost inseparable from it. The one always implies, and always is the converse of the other. b. The Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience are qualities given by the Consciousness, in the Will as their substance. This fact the Reason delimits of contingency and individuality, and transforms into the universal idea of quality. 20. The Idea of the Affections. a. The twentieth fact given by the Consciousness is that of the Affections, with all their elemental and determinate. forms, as a quality of the mind inhering in the Will as substance. b. These Affections are involuntary, and are the mind's capability of being affected by external influences. And from this fact of the soul's susceptibility, given by the Consciousness, the Reason forms the ne- cessary and univei'sal idea of susceptibility, or the Affections, as distinct THE INTELLECT. 381 from the Will, and the Conscience and the Intellect, and a distinct quality in the human mind. c. The Affections are qualities of the mind as a whole, as a complete person, and inhering- in the will, which is not the mind, but the sub- stance of the mind. These Affections are growths upon the will, where- by it, being an activity, becomes also a passivity, or a susceptibility ; and being free, takes on an involuntary nature. d. These Affections, as we have seen, have two divisions; viz., the Indeterminate and the Determinate. The former are the basis of the latter, and are as follows : desirefulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, cheer- fulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness. These are the distinguish- able, yet indeterminate, affections which lie under and diffuse themselves through the whole of man's susceptible and emotional nature. e. These give rise to six corresponding orders of determinate affec- tions ; viz., individual affections, social affections, patriotic affections, philanthropic affections, aesthetic affections, and religious affections, having each several classes. Now, these are the facts of a complete susceptibility furnished by the Consciousness. The Reason takes these facts, and forms from them the idea that any complete susceptibility,' or affectional nature, must possess these elements ; and thus we have the fact and the idea of man's affectional nature. (See Part II.) /. Moreover, the facts of the affections in all their classes are the ground of categories for knowing homogeneous external objects and events. These affections are in the consciousness, and all their action is so much of fact in the possession of the consciousness for the formation of conceptions, which conceptions are categories with which to cognize objects. g. The Consciousness presents these affections and the impression made on them to the Reason, and it forms from them conceptions of in- dividual life, rights, possessions, and pleasures ; of patriotic, philan- thropic, aesthetic, and religious objects, duties, and pleasures ; and thus is the mind qualified to cognize external objects and events, actions and interests, b) r means of those affectional conceptions which constitute a class of categories. These categories are, individuality, sociality, pa- triotism, philanthropy, aesthetics, and religion. We have here, then, our first facts, and first conceptions, and first categories of these affec- tions ; and as such, they pass into the qualifications of the mind as a part of its power of knowing. 21. The Idea of the Intellect. a. The twenty-first fact given by the Consciousness is that of the Intel- lect, with its Consciousness, Reason, and Sense, as a quality of the mind inhering in the Will as substance. 382 AUTOLOGY. b. The Intellect is here recognized as a distinct quality of the mind, the quality of intelligence and knowingness, in its largest sense. From this fact the Reason forms its necessary and universal idea of all intelli- gence, and of all rational natures. c. Each faculty of the Intellect is also a quality of the mind, and a separate fact from which the Reason forms an idea. The Consciousness itself, as a fact given by itself, is the basis of a necessary and universal idea. So also are the Reason and the Sense ; these all are facts which the Reason turns into ideas, and then, with them as categories, cognizes external facts. 22. The Idea of the Conscience and of the Bight. a. The twenty-second fact given by the Consciousness is that of the Conscience as the last and highest quality of the mind, inhering in the Will as the substance of the mind. b. This fact gives to the Reason its idea of the right, the ethical, the just ; and this is a' necessary and universal idea. The Conscience discerns moral differences, and enforces the right and prohibits the wrong. c. The Reason grasps, delimits, and transforms these facts into the necessary and universal idea of the nature and office of the faculty of Conscience everywhere. From this also the Reason forms, in like man-' ner, the necessary and universal idea of the right and the equitable, as distinguished from the wrong. And lastly, from these facts the Reason forms its universal and necessary idea of all souls as under obligation to know and obey the right. 23. The Idea of the Vital and Dynamical Connection of Substance and Quality. a. This connection is a fact given by the Consciousness, and from it the Reason forms the necessary and universal idea of the dynamical connection of all substance and quality. b. The Reason sees that it is essential to the nature of substance and quality that they be, as this fact is, dynamically connected. 24. The Idea of the Vital and Dynamical Identity of Substance and Quality. a. This fact of Consciousness is an identity of essence and correlation, and not of form. b. That all substance implies quality, and all quality a substance ; that the quality is the manifestation of the substance, and the substance the essential nature of the quality — from these facts the Reason forms its idea of the essential identity of all substance and quality ; that they are one force, life, and being. THE INTELLECT. 383 25. The Idea of Action and Reaction, or Life-pulse. a. This fact given by the Consciousness is the ceaseless pulse-beat of the essential activity and essential intelligence after they have ceased to form themselves into elements of the Will or qualities of the mind. b. When the whole mind is complete in all its elements and qualities, still it is active ; and still its spirit, life, and force, are in a perpetual action and reaction, like the living ocean. c. These elements do not act as cause producing- effect (for all that work is done); but are only beating with the action and reaction of their essential life. This action and reaction sustains concomitant events. The activity and the consciousness act and react upon each other, each being actively conscious and consciously active ; and the self thus pro- duced by them contains and holds these two live elements in it, acting and reacting each with the other, and each in turn giving place to each, producing and sustaining the self as one live whole ; the activity going into consciousness, and the consciousness going into activity, and both uniting to form one self, which self they sustain by their action and re- action. They act as causes in producing the self, but in sustaining it they have only, reciprocal action. This action and reaction is only the pulse and heart-beat of nature, by which life hoth is and is sustained ; it is the principle of life, or activity in nature. d. Now, the. Reason takes this fact here given, and from it forms the idea of action and reaction as the condition of all being, by which it is and is sustained. We have here, then, our first fact, and our first idea, of actipn and reaction as a category of being. 26. The Idea of the Vital, Dynamical, and Perpetual Indentity of the liv- ing Soul of Man through all the Periods of his Existence. a. The fact given by the Consciousness, which is the basis of this idea, is that of the perpetual action and reaction of the two elements of essential activity and essential intelligence. This unceasing action . and reaction it is that constitutes the life, and preserves the identity of the soul so long as that life lasts. b. This action and reaction is the exercise that gives perpetual con- sciousness, and the consciousness of perpetual life and perpetual iden- tity ; and from this fact the Reason forms its necessary and universal idea of the perpetual identity of the me, the ego, or the soul, through all the periods of its existence. 21. The Idea of Perpetual Reknowing, or Remembering, a. The fact of perpetual reknowing, or knowing that we know, is given by the Consciousness in the perpetual action and reaction of the 384 • AUTOLOGY. essential activity and essential intelligence which give the ceaseless suc- cession of consciousnesses by which we know that we knew. b. The action and reaction, in keeping up the perpetual succession of consciousnesses, keeps alive the consciousness of the mind's perpetual identity ; and this same chain of consciousnesses that preserves identity is the chain of memory. c. By it the fact that we knew is ever held in present consciousness ; and on this fact of Consciousness the Reason forms its idea of reknow- ing, or of knowing that it knew, which is remembering. With this idea always in possession, the Reason, as we shall hereafter see, remembers ; that is, knows that it knew, or cognizes that it cognized. 28. The Idea of Free Cause. a. The twenty-eighth fact of Consciousness is that of free cause. This fact is constituted by the combined elements that form the free will, and the faculties that complete it, into a personality. This is the only fact in which we have experience of a free clause ; and from this fact of a free, affectional, rational, and ethical person, the Reaspn forms, by de- limitation and transfiguration, the necessary and universal idea of a free cause. b. Spirit alone is free cause ;. life and force are necessary causes. A free cause differs from a necessary cause in that it is free, while a neces- sary cause is bound. A free cause has its own momentum, and its own end of action, and its own liberty, in itself; and exercises its own momentum according to its own law, or forbears to exercise it : it causes or it forbears to cause ; it wills and it nills, and thus acts in freedom ; while a necessary cause must always cause, and can never forbear to cause while it exists. c. A free cause is a free will, and a free will can choose, or refuse, or do neither. In the first case, it chooses an object; in the second, it chooses not to choose it; and in the third case, it chooses neither to choose the object nor not to choose it, but to be free ; while a necessary cause can do but one thing; viz., to cause its effect, and ever that one same effect. d. If it be said that a necessary cause has its impetus and law in itself, the reply is, that impetus and law are not two things in a neces- sary cause, but the same identical thing ; while jn a free cause they are always diverse. Moreover, a free cause has ever freedom for its end, or law ; while a necessary cause has necessity for it's end, or law. e. From these facts we have the further distinctions, viz., a free cause acts always in its own space and time, and projects its effects into a space and time which is not its own ; while a necessary cause acts always in the same space and time in which its effects are produced and placed. THE INTELLECT. 3S5 f. God, as the great, first, free cause, dwells alone in his own eternity, having- his own space and his own time. His perfect being is a perfect sphere : his infinity consists in simple perfectness, uncreated and un- dying', without beginning and without end. His space and his time are both within that sphere. His eternity and his infinity, which are his uncreatedness and his perfectness, and in which he is self-existent and imperishable, constitute and fill the sphere of his space and time. g. Outside of God's sphere, — for the infiniteness of his sphere of space and time consists in its perfectness, and not at all in extent, —outside of God's perfect sphere of personal "being is nothingness, i. e., negative possi- bility: where this nothingne-ss was, lies God's creation of worlds, with their own space and time created with them, beginning where they begin, and ending where they end, being surrounded with nothingness on all sides. h. Thus God, as free cause, stands outside of the space which he creates for worlds to fill and move in, and outside of the time which be creates with the events that fill it, and projects them into being where only negative possibility was before, to hold a positive being there until he shall annihilate them. Thus God as a free cause can create a space, and begin a time, and fill them with objects and events, and give being where was nothingness before, and bring them to an end again. i. And this is the nature of free cause as opposed to necessary cause ; it stands outside of the time and space into which it projects its effects, and hence can begin a space, and can begin a time, and can begin the objects that fill them ; while a necessary cause must always both be, and act, and produce its effects, within the same space and time in which the effects exist ; and hence a necessary cause can never begin anything, but is itself a part of the effect which it produces, as it is a part of the space and the time in which it acts. j. A necessary cause is thus ever a part of natui'e, is nature, and its effects are nature ; and all, both the cause and the effect, and the space and the time in which they are produced, are one undivided and one neces- sary and unbroken whole of nature ; while a free cause is ever out of na- tivre, and no part of nature, and neither in its action nor being, in nature. k. But, it will be asked, is not man in the midst of nature, and sub- ject to nature? Yes, man, by means of his body, is in nature, and located in the midst of her powers and works ; but man'.s free will acts by itself, out of nature, and out of nature's space and time. I. " The mind is its own place ; " but it projects the effects which it causes into nature, and within nature's space and time. Every human soul, though by means of the body bound to nature and nature's space and time, has yet, as God has, and all free causes must have, a space and time of its own, from which it projects its effects into the space and time of nature, or of eternity, wherever it may be. 49 386 • AUTOLOGY. m. The question may further be raised, Are not cause and effect dynamically connected and identical, as already shown in the preced- ing categories ? Yes, lfecessary cause arid effect are thus connected and identical ; the effect is but the reverse, or manifestation of the cause, and they are necessarily and inseparably connected and identical. " n. So also are a free cause and its effects vitally and dynamically connected, and so also are they identical ; i. e., the effect is the. true and real manifestation of the cause. But while the connection between free cause and effect is thus vital and dynamical, it is yet free ; it is not a necessary nor an inevitable connection. o. A free cause may forbear to cause ; it may cause or refuse to cause, or refuse both these acts, and remain free from each. But when it does produce an effect, that effect is a manifestation of the free cause, and in the image of the free cause ; in so far as the free cause is exer- cised. God, as a free cause, created man in his own image. Human beings., as free causes, become parents. Man", as a free cause, constructs a house, a machine, a watch, a canal, a railroad, a school, a church, a government, a treatise, a science, a philosophy ; and the thing he thus causes is, in a greater or less degree, according to its nature a manifes- tation of himself, and in its conception, design, or mechanism, in his image, and identical with him ; so that a free effect is as certain a proof of its cause as is a necessary effect. p. A free cause may cause many things which a necessary cause may also do ; but the stamp of the free cause will be in the time, place, or mode. Seed may be blown by the wind, and carried by a bird to fall into the soil ; but man may plough, and then sow with his own hand, and with intent in his chosen field, the same seed ; and in these particulars he appears as a free cause, while the wind and the bird are necessary causes. q. Thus man, as free cause, energizes in his own free will, out of nature, and in his own free soul's space and time ; but he, by his con- nection with the body, carries out his designs, and projects his effects, into nature, or the region of necessary cause, to be, more or less, subject to its laws. The space and time of nature are begun, and filled, and ended, by nature's causes and effects. r. Man's body comes within the space and time thus begun, filled, and ended, by nature's necessary causes. Man's free will can, to some extent, resist and overcome nature's necessary causes ; can often use them, change them, combine them, sever them, and in all this show his power. Man thus, as a free cause, rises above nature's necessary causes, and their space and time, and exercises his own free power in his own space and time ; yet is ever, more or less, while he lives in this world, under the limitation of nature's necessary causes, and. the space and time in which they act. THE INTELLECT. 381 29. The Idea of Final Cause. a. The twenty-ninth fact which we have noted as given by the Consciousness is that of final cause. This fact is found in the free and rational action of man, in which he chooses his end of action and accom- plishes it. It is also found in the fact of man's own conviction that he himself was made for a designed end. b. The fact of final -cause given by the Consciousness, the Reason delimits of contingency and personality, and transforms into the neces- sary and universal idea of final cause, as the divine stamp and sign manual of a free, afifectional, rational, ethical, and personal Creator of the universe and of man, and the beneficent and almighty God, blessed forever. 30. The Idea of a complete Personality. a. The next fact of Consciousness noted is that of complete person- ality. The whole nature and formation of this fact have repeatedly been given. The two primordial elements of essential activity and essential intelligence in the first instance form a self; the self then takes on self- law and liberty, and becomes the Will. This will, then, as substance of the mind, develops qualities ; first, affections ; second, intellect ; and i third, conscience ; and this forms a complete and perfect personality. b. 'Free will, affections, intellect, conscience, — these are necessary and universal elements of personality; and from this fact the Reason forms its universal and necessary idea of all personality, whether human or divine. c. The difference between nature and personality is here obvious. Nature can never have the principle of life, to say nothing of free will, reason, and conscience. Nature is force, and only force ; and that, necessarily and forever. d. The difference between animal life and personality is also obvious ; for animal life can never have free will, reason, and conscience. They are not in its elements, and can never come out in its developments, or in its education. Animal being is merely animal life \ it has nothing more in its nature, and can n.ever be more than that. Man's spirit is of altogether another essence. The essence of man has free will, reason, and conscience in it ; and hence it can develop into a person. e. It will be observed that the differences between finite and infinite personality appear not in any comparative difference in degree, but in the absolute difference in kind ; viz. : — First. Both finite and infinite personality have existence, but infinite personality has self-existence, while finite personality has only a created existence. Second. Both finite and infinite personality have power to originate or begin things or events, but the infinite personality can begin being or 388 AUTOLOGY. originate existence itself; i. e., it can create ; while finite personality can only originate or begin changes, movements, and combinations of being and forces already in existence. Third. Both finite and infinite personality have liberty, i. e., free will, or liberty to choose f/eety. But the infinite personality has power to execute and accomplish that which it chooses.; while the finite person- ality has liberty to choose, but in many cases has not power tu execute ; it has simply liberty of choice, and not power to perform. Fourth. Thus while the difference between human and divine person- ality is generic as to the materials, God being uncreated spirit, while man is created, yet the essential elements of personality must be the same everywhere. Nevertheless, the difference must always appear in this, — that God is perfect in all his elements, and in his complete person, while man is imperfect. God is infinite, while man is finite. 31. The Idea of Object or Quantity. a. The next fact observed is that of quantity or object. This fact is given in the act of self-consciousness by which the self, or ego, is affirmed as a positive quantity. b. The Consciousness. embraces and permeates the self in its intelli- gence, and then affirms its positive being. The Consciousness also separates that self which it embraces from that which it does not em- brace ; and the acts of including and excluding give respectively the being of self and of not-self. c. The self is thus affirmed as an object ; the not-self is affirmed as an object; the former by embracing, the latter by colliding. They stand opposed to each other. The self is an object or quantity positively affirmed; the not-self is an object 'negatively affirmed. The self fills a space ; the not-self is separated from it by a space. The self is thus an Object to itself. d. And from this fact the Reason forms its idea of quantity or object, as an entity, having real and positive being, and filling a space ; and also the idea that all being must- have quantity ; that is, occupy space, and have, of course, impenetrability. It is true of the mind as well as of matter, that it has quantity and fills space ; for two minds, each self- conscious, occupy position in relation to each other ; and if position, then space ; and as much so as do two bodies ; and they cannot both occupy the same space at the same time. 32. The Idea of Whole and Part. a. The thirty-second fact which we note is that of whole and part. It comes into consciousness in the development and construction of the THE INTELLECT. . 389 self, the will, and the person. It ^is the conscious proceeding from a unit to "an addition, and thence on to a completion of the object, usually denominated unity, plurality, totality. b. On this is based the simple judgment or idea of whole and part, or the whole as greater than its part ; for that is the point of discrimi- nation between them. 33. The Idea of Measure. a. The fact of measure comes into the consciousness in the act of completing a whole by the addition of its parts, and by comparison of a part, as unity, with the whole, as a totalit} 7 . b. Measure is the- comparison of quantities, while number is the marking of events. These events may be the number of applied meas- urements, and thus measure and number are. both employed in dealing with quantity. Number, however, belongs rather to time, and measure to space ; but each one is sometimes employed in ascertaing the other. c. From the above fact of Consciousness, by which the self and per- son are developed, part by part, until completed into a whole, and the whole is compared with its part, does the Reason form the idea of measure. 34. The Idea of Space. A. a. The thirty-fourth fact noted as given by the Consciousness is that of space. Space is the consciousness of extension, and is given in the formation of the self and will, as they are developed, by their suc- cessive elements. The self and will thus formed is affirmed by self- consciousness, as an individuality, positive, and real, and distinct. b. This consciousness of positive, real, developed, and completed be- ing is the consciousness of extension, and extension is space. So also when the Consciousness comes to the limits of the self, it thereby and then separates the self from the not-self ; and this separating is a spacing ; and here the Consciousness gives the fact of space as a particular fact. c. But the Reason takes that 1 fact and delimits it, and makes it uni- versal and necessary as the condition of the existence of all objects. An object fills space, is made. up of space ; then it is enclosed by space; then space goes before it, and. comes after it, and is on each side of it all around ; and this space encloses the whole. Space is thus a measure of the finite, and is created when any object is created, and encloses it, as a sphere, on all sides. It is a limitation which the infinite sets up as the bound of the finite ; it is no part of the infinite, but is entirely finite. d. It may here be added, as a more specific definition, that space is an area, created in the midst of nothingness by the power of God, of so rare a nature that other objects may be placed inside of it. Space is 390 AUTOLOGY. itself an object which is surrounded by nothingness, while the objects which are in space are surrounded by space. Space is the rare medium, like an atmosphere, which surrounds and separates objects in nature. e. Gravitation, when considered as a force separate from objects, is called a space, filling force. Space is surrounded by nothingness, and is often confounded with it. But space is not nothingness, but is as an isl- and in the sea of nothingness ; or, rather, as a ship. Space, consequently, is finite and limited, was created, and may be annihilated. f. The almost universal error of philosophy is the confounding of space with nothingness, and then making it infinite. This last is a double mistake ; for space is in its nature measurable, but the infinite is not measurable, because the very nature of the infinite is that it is incomparable, unapproachable, and hence incompatible with any meas- ure ; and as for nothingness, it is immeasurable because it is nothing, and not because it is infinite : the infinite is positive, not negative. g. The error of confounding space with nothingness is inveterate and almost incorrigible. Men, learned and ignorant, persist in calling the negative possibility of projecting space and the objects that fill it indefi- nitely into being, where nothingness was before, space ; and still worse, they persist in calling it infinite space, when it is not space at all, but simply the negative possibility of the existence of space. h. It is not positive possibility; for that is a force capable of pro- ducing the thing which is possible ; but negative possibility is simply " nothing in the way," and that is nothingness — the nothingness which almost the whole world persist in calling infinite and empty space. i. God was originally in the midst of this " negative possibility " of creating the universe, and space to hold it. His own almightiness was the positive possibility. He did create space, and project it into the nothingness outside of himself, and fill it with the worlds, upon one of which, at least, he also created men, and animals, and plants. j. Thus God was originally in his own space, and that space of his own was the whole universe ; for mere nothingness was outside of it. From this central space God created, and threw off from himself into the nothingness outside of him, the space and the worlds of the universe. k. God's being and God's space are a perfect sphere in the midst of nothingness ; their infiniteness consists in their perfectness, not in their extent ; and his being and space are distinct from all other being and all other space. I. The original, necessary, and universal idea of space formed from the fact of space given in consciousness, by delimiting it of contingency and individuality, and by transformation, is that it is the necessary con- dition of the existence of all objects but itself. It contains every other thing that is created, but is itself contained by nothing, and is THE INTELLECT. 391 literally an area in the midst of nothing. It is itself a created object produced where nothingness or negative possibility was before. m. God's space consists simply of the reality of God's being, and is uncreated as God's being is uncreated ; just as God's time consists simply of the reality of God's life, his living mental operations ; but the space which the worlds occupy is created space, and is no part of the space which God's person is and fills. In fact, the space and time of God are simply his existence as a living being. Before he created, God was literally everything — space, time, and all. n. Created space and time are simply the containers of created ob- jects and events, and live and die with them. B. Relation of Space and Time. 1. a. Neither space nor time must, therefore, be confounded with the negative possibility of their existence. The positive possibility of the existence of space and time is the power of God, who created them when he created the objects and events which fill them. The neg- ative possibility of their existence is simply the nothing in the way which could prevent the energy of God from producing them by an act of creation. &.„ Space and time are created by the fiat of Jehovah when he created the objects and events that fill them : hence the error of confounding space and time with the negative possibility that does not hinder their being created ; for that negative possibility is nothing, while space and time are something. This negative possibility of the existence of space and time is perpetually mistaken for space and time themselves. 2. Space and Time are not self -existent. a. Neither is the nothingness, or negative possibility, self-existent ; for it is nothing, and nothing is nothing ; it does not exist ; it is merely the negation of something. Neither is nothing created : that would be a self-contradiction. Nothing is nothing-, and can neither be created nor be self-existent ; nor is it existible, for it is nothingness. b. Empty space is something ; empty time is something ; but the negative possibility of their being created by the power of God, which is their positive possibility, is nothing. Objects are created in space, which is itself an object ; and the events that begin and end time are created in time, whose beginning, and lapse, and end are themselves events. Space and time are, therefore, not self-existent, but created ; not infinite, but finite. They are created simultaneously. To create is an. event ; to attempt to create is an event ; therefore the creation of an object and the creation of an event are simultaneous. c. Yet events may be produced by the change of objects after they 392 AUTOLOGY. are created. All objects imply events ; all events imply objects, or the change of objects. Created space and time have their cause or Creator in God; they have their being outside of God, where, before, nothing existed. They are separate from God's original space and time, and be- gin and end by themselves. 3. Space and Time have 'the same measure, motion, and number, appli- cable to each. a. Space is measured by the comparison of its objects as to extent, after assuming some one of them as a standard. The application of this standard is by motion ; these motions are summed up hy numbers. b. So time is measured by the motion- of some object through space. The standard is a certain motion over a certain space, and these motions are summed up by number ; thus space and time have material measure- ments. C. God's Space and Time. a. God, alone in the midst of nothingness, was himself everything; all space and time were in him alone, and identical with his being. With the perfect sphere of his own perfect being he had space, because he had reality ; but it was not an appreciable space, because there was nothing to measure it by ; and he therefore had virtually no space, because his space and being are identical. b. So God's time, as he exists alone in his own uncreated eternity, without beginning, without end, had no measurement outside of himself, and consequently he had, virtually, no time ; for his time and being are identical. His thoughts had each separate individuality and relations, but not the successions of created time. They have succession only in relation to. the creatures which he has made, and that only since they were made. c. God has neither position in relation to space, nor date as to time ; for space and time are finite things, which he created, and which lie out- side of him, and have no relation to space and time in him, but are altogether outside of him, in a space and time of their own, which they fill, which began with them, and will cease with them ; while God, in his own perfect sphere of space and time, lives on, as before the worlds were made. d. Space and time are therefore finite, having been created where nothingness was before ;. and they might be annihilated with all they contain, and leave nothing behind but God — an infinitely perfect sphere of being, uncreated and imperishable. As he was alone in the midst of nothingness before he created the universe, so would he be alone in the midst of nothingness again, should the universe be annihilated. 'THE INTELLECT. 393 e. Care should here be taken that' the nothingness in the midst of which God exists be not construed into a something ; for it is nothing, and God is in reality all in all, and literally alone ; he is the universe until he creates something else outside of himself. That which is out; side of God before he creates is simply negative possibility, and not space ; it is only the negative possibility that space should be created.' f. So of time : God, before he created time, was his own time. He was, and had, all duration within himself. Outside of him was no empty time to be filled up with events, nor empty space to be filled with objects ; but there was simply the negative possibility of creating time and space; and these he did create when he created the events and objects which fill them, and which they surround and separate. g. When God was alone, before he created, there was literally not anything besides him. lie was literally all reality, all the reality which existed ; he was all the space, and all the time, and all the reality, of any kind, which existed. Within God, was the positive, and efficient possibility of creating the universe of worlds, with the space and the time which they fill, and which enclose and separate them. Outside of God, was simply the negative possibility that the universe and the world might be created. h. There was nothing in the way, and God did create the universe and the world, with all their space and time, and project them from his own omnipotent and creative being into the negative possibility or noth- ingness outside of him, thereby creating space, and creating time, and creating objects and events to fill them, where utter nothingness was before. i. Thus are space and time not self-existent, but created ; not in- finite, but finite. God alone is perfect, and is alone infinite in that he is perfect. His perfectness is a sphere, and not a magnitude ; i. e., his infiniteness consists in •his perfectness, and not in his extension 'or dura- tion. The former alone is infinite, the latter is finite. Extension may be endlessly extended as to magnitude, duration, power, or anything else, and that is only the finite, however much extended. But the per- fect is absolute, absolutely infinite, and- infinitely absolute ; and that is God's infiniteness and absoluteness. j. To assume that space and time are self-existent and infinite is not only to commit the absurdity of calling nothing something, — and an in- finite something at that, — but it is to lay the foundation of materialism and of atheism ; for if anything besides God can be self-existent, then everything besides God may be self-existent also ; and if all things are self-existent, then there is, as some scientists dare to say, "no use for a God " to create them, and consequently no God at ajl. 394 AUTOLOGY. ' 35. The Idea of Impenetrability. a. The fact of Consciousness from which this idea is formed is that .of impenetrability. This fact is simply that, in any object or entity, which makes it impossible that any other object or entity should occupy the same space which it occupies, at the same time. This fact is given by the Consciousness when it gives the self and will as ego ; for it here affirms extension and reality ; and in embracing the self within self-con- sciousness it excludes the not-self, and thus has the fact of space, and space occupied by self. This gives the consciousness of impenetrability. b. This fact the Reason grasps, delimits of contingency and in- dividuality, and transforms into the necessary and universal idea of im- penetrability as an essential property in all entities. The Reason sees that that is not an entity which has not ultimate impenetrability, or in- compressibility. c. Two entities may be mutually porous, and thus come into near identity of place and time ; but the essential parts of each entity are not, and cannot be, porous ; so that they must, if entities at all, be im- penetrable still. Light and glass are mutually porous, but they both, in their real particles, are impenetrable ; and so must all entities, whether of spirit, or animal life, or mere nature's force, be. d. Two spirits cannot occupy the same space at the same time ; the self-consciousness of the one will include itself, and exclude "the other ; and just so must it do in relation to mere life, or force, or any object, or entity, in nature. Spirit may inhabit body or pass through any material substance, as light passes through glass ; yet, when reduced to their ultimate elements, spirit is an entity, as well as nature or any of her forces, and must, like material entities, have impenetrability. 36. The Idea of Spirit. a. The next fact here treated as given by the Consciousness is that of spirit. Spirit is 'the human mind made up of its own peculiar and sui generis elements, essential activity, essential intelligence, essential self, essential self-law, essential liberty ; all combining to produce essen- tial free will. Then this essential free will, as substance, developing further into the qualities of affections, intellect, and conscience, com- pletes itself into a personality. b. This is the fact of spirit. And this fact of spirit, with all the facts and elements before given, and more belonging to it, the Reason, by de- limiting the contingent and individual, transforms into the necessary and universal idea of spirit. All spirits must have these elements ; and these elements, wherever found so combined, constitute a spirit. This is the essential, necessary, and universal idea of spirit. THE INTELLECT. 395 c. Life differs from force in that it has intelligence as well as activity, forming a living- self. Spirit differs from both in that it has not only activity, intelligence, and self, but such an activity and intelligence as develop, not only a self, but self-law, liberty, free will, affections, reason, conscience, and personalit} 7 . 31. The Idea of Life. a. The thirty-seventh fact of Consciousness which we have named is that of life. Life is here set in contradistinction from spirit on the one hand, and from mere force on the other. It is less than spirit ; it is more than force. Spirit comprehends life and force in itself, while life has no spirit, but has force. b. The fact of life is the first given by Consciousness in the essential activity ; however, it comes into full consciousness when the essential activity and the essential intelligence combine and give the self, or' ego ; then is the consciousness of a living self first fully felt. c. Life is distinguished from force >in that it has life and conscious- ness. Life is distinguished from spirit in that, while it has essential activity and intelligence combining in a self, its development stops there ; and it has no will, no affections, no conscience. d. For will, it. has only a self; for affections, it has, simply, self-pre- servative propensities, defensive dispositions, parentive feelings, and bodily sensibilities ; for intellect, it has only the senses joined with a sensuous consciousness ; and for- conscience, it has nothing, save, in some brutes, a selfish and appetitive regard for approval and disap- proval. e. From the consciousness of the essential activity and the essential intelligence giving the living self, the Reason, by delimiting and trans- forming, forms the necessary and universal idea of life ; mere life, in the first instance, as distinguished from the human soul ; and life on the other hand, as distinguished from mere force. A mere life can never have will, intellect, and conscience, but must always remain life ; so can mere force never become life, but must always remain unconscious and inanimate force. 38. The Idea of Force. a. The thirty-eighth fact noted was force. The fact of force is de- rived from the original and essential activity and intelligence as they energize by necessary causation, and produce the self. From this fact the Reason, by the delimitation of contingency and individuality, and by transmutation, forms the necessary and universal idea of force as the great power of nature, by which all her inanimate operations are carried out. 396 AUTOLOGY. b. Gravitation is the great central force. There are also chemical, mineral, crystalline, and vegetable forces, forces of attraction and re- pulsion ; all either formative or operative ; and these constitute nature and a nature of things. c. Force is distinguished from life in that it has simple activity, and not intelligence. It has only one of the original and primordial elements of being, while lii'e has both combined in a living self. Mere force can never rise to life. Force rules in nature. d. We have already given the facts of inanimate, unintelligent, and involuntary nature, i. e., a nature of things ; viz., cause and effect, time, quantity, space, action and reaction, substance and quality, and the three modes — possible, actual, and necessary. Now, these are the facts in a nature of things, in the most of which force rules. The Con- sciousness gives these facts as a nature of things all instinct with force, and the Reason sees that not only the nature of things here given must have the element of force, but that force, mere force, necessarily and universally reigns in a nature of things everywhere ; and thus we have both the idea and the fact of force in a nature of things. 39. The Idea of Matter. a. The next fact which we have noted as given by the Consciousness is that of matter. Matter is the form of any entity ; either force, life, or spirit, which as object, or quality, or body, occupies space, and has, of course, impenetrability. The mind' is thus conscious of form, body, or bulk. Indeed, it is difficult to divest the mind of the consciousness of having some form ; and in truth, it ever, of necessity, has some form of being, or body, either earthly or spiritual. b. The first consciousness of body arises from the consciousness of being an object occupying space, and being impenetrable. This con- sciousness is completed in the actual possession of a human body ; so that matter, or form, lies in the very nature of objectivity, and belongs to all objects — to spirit, to life, and to mere force ; and in each of them it is the same ; viz., it is that objective and impenetrable body and form in which force, life, and spirit are clothed, and under and through which they operate. c. Matter is that, from centre to circumference, which makes any entity occupy space and time ; but it is more particularly the body to the soul, the body to the life, the body in which a foi-ce acts ; as the wire to electricity, the needle to magnetism, and the pole star to attrac- tion. Thus matter belongs to everything ; for everything has a body ; the soul has both an earthy and a spiritual body. d. This fact of consciousness, giving matter as the impenetrable and objective body and form of spirit, life, and force, the Reason grasps, THE INTELLECT. 397 delimits of the contingency and individuality, and transmutes into a necessary and universal idea of all matter. 40. The Idea of the Mode of Being. a. The fortieth fact observed is that of the mode of being. The fact of being is one thing, the mode of being is another ; yet whatever exists must exist in some mode; viz., quality as a mode of substance, and effect as a mode of cause ; and solid, liquid, and gaseous are modes of the existence of certain substances. b. Modes are found also in the state or condition of the mind, as cheerful or sad, sober or frivolous ; so also, according to the theory of some, the mind is sometimes said to exist in the mode of will, of affec- tions, and of conscience. These, however, are specific modes of indi- vidual beings. The more comprehensive modes are those of the actual, the possible, and the necessary. From all these the Reason forms the idea of mode in general. 41. The Idea of the Actual. a. The forty-first fact here noted is the actual. Any fact of con- sciousness gives us the actual, and anything which is given in conscious- ness is actual ; and this is, at once, the fact and the idea of the actual. b. The Consciousness gives the self, the ego, as a real existence held in the embrace of its own intelligence. The reality and impenetrability of the self is as certainly affirmed by the Consciousness when it em- braces an object within itself, as when it collides with an object in open objectivity ; and especially when the Consciousness takes cognizance of itself, and is not only conscious, but conscious that it is conscious, and thus affirms both self and self-consciousness ; then does it not only affirm a reality, but its knowing is absolute ; for the knower and the known are identical. The actual, is, therefore, known by the highest possible evidence. c. Says Kant, " That which coheres with the material conditions of experience (i. e., sensations), is real." But here we see that Conscious-, ness itself gives the real with a certainty which the sense can never reach. Consciousness is the only faculty that can begin to know, and gives us the first reality ; yet is it true that reality coheres with the ■ conditions of sensuous experience. 42. The Idea of the Possible. a. The forty-second fact of the Consciousness which we have noted is that of the possible. The fact of the. actual and the idea of the ac- tual we have already given ; but the actual always has in itself the sole conditions of the possible. Any fact of consciousness, therefore, gives 398 AUTOLOGY. and controls the existence of the possible ; for that alone is possible which conforms to the conditions of the actual ; i. e., that which con- forms to the relations of the constituents of being; to being, is possible ; to wit : a free will exists ; therefore the choice of anything compatible with its nature is possible. So also the elements of nature exist ; there- fore all products compatible with them are possible. b. Thus says Kant : " That which accords with the formal conditions of experience (i. e., according to intuition and conceptions) is possi- ble." But the possible is either positive or negative. Negative possi- bility is simply " nothing in the way ; " while positive possibility is the power to achieve and produce the possible, and to make it actual. c. A negative possibility can never be a subject of experience, or come into consciousness, as it is in fact nothing ; but a positive possi- bility is a something ; it is an actual and effective force, and may with its operations be a subject of consciousness and of experience. d. The fact of free will is a fact of positive possibility. It is the power to choose without limit ; it is the fact of all possible choice, and of all choice possible. This possibility is a fact in consciousness ; and from this fact the Eeason forms its idea of the possible ; for a power to produce is a power to fulfil the conditions of being according to which it is possible for anything to exist. 43. The Idea of the Necessary. a. The next fact which we have named is that of the necessary mode of being. If we take the fact of the essential activity and the essen- tial intelligence, which, as necessary causes, work together in producing the self, we have a fact in the self, thus produced, which is a necessary result of the working of these causes ; for if these causes exist, then, of necessity, must the result exi # st. ' b. And thus we have a fact of consciousness, which is a necessary fact, and which the Eeason delimits and transforms into a necessary aitd universal idea of the necessary mode of being in all cases. c. Kant says, "That whose coherence with the real is determined according to the general conditions of experience, is, or exists, neces- sarily." This is true ; but is it not true that the necessary inheres in the very nature of being itself? Is it not true that any fact of the actual may not only give the necessary, but must, of necessity, give it. - d. For the actual must be either self-existent or have a cause. If it is self-existent, it has a necessary being ; but if it is not self-existent, then it, of necessity, must have a cause ; and so, in either case, the actual gives the necessary ; that is, either the self-existence of the ac- tual is a fact, and, if a fact, of course a necessary fact, or the existence THE INTELLECT. 399 of the cause of the actual is a fact, and, of course, a necessary fact ; and thus the necessary as a fact exists. . e. And, furthermore, the existence of the actual, though contingent beforehand, yet becomes, after the fact of its existence has come to pass, a necessary past existence. That which once has been can never cease " to have been." When once a being or an event has existed, then the fact that it has existed becomes a necessary, indestructible, and eternal fact. /. And thus we see that the necessary inheres in the very nature of being. Let something once exist, and its having been is as eternal as self-existence itself ; and so also is it true that when something exists, it must either be self-existent itself, or have, somewhere, a self-existent cause ; and hence we have the fact arid the idea, necessary and uni- versal, of necessary being. 44. The Idea of the True. a. The forty-fourth fact here noted as given by the Consciousness is that of the true as identical with the necessary. The actual is true, yet not necessarily truthful ; for it needs only to be, in order to be actual ; but the true is not only actual, but true to the nature of things. Hence all necessary truths are not only actual, but true, and are facts of the true. b. There is no such thing as the true apart from an individual fact ; hence any necessary cause producing an effect is a fact of the true ; any substance having a quality is a fact of the true, so far as the true can be a fact ; but the true as such is an idea which the Reason forms from these facts. It seizes any necessary fact, and forms from it the necessary and universal idea of the necessary and of the true. 45. The Idea of the Sublime. a. The fact of the Consciousness given above from which this idea is formed is that of sublimity. The sublime is the enhancement of the ac- tual, whether that actual be ordinary, deformed, or beautiful, as to magni- tude and power, vastness and force, to the highest degree which the nature of the object will admit of. The sublime is the embodiment and ex- pression of spirit, life, and force as to power and magnitude, vastness and force ; while beauty is the embodiment and expression of spirit, life, and force as to symmetry, proportion, and harmony of parts in one whole. b. The sublime is the preponderance, overpowering and ascendency, of some one^ property or part, which overwhelms us with its vastness and force, filling us with awe and fear ; while beauty is the unity and harmony of all parts in one complete and perfect whole, which fills us with a pleasing admiration. 400 AUTOLOGY. c, The original fact of sublimity lies in the natural aspiringness of the soul, as its affections rise from the lowest to the highest, from desirefulness to trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness, and then branch out and expand into all the orders of determinate affections — the individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, aesthetic, and religious affections. d. This original and natural procession of the soul's emotions, rising ever, and expanding ever, ascending and augmenting-, — this is the origi- nal fact of sublimity which the Reason delimits and transfigures into its own necessary and universal idea of the sublime. And it is because the affections within us thus rise, and the spirit, life, and force which we are thus tend upward and seek augmentation, that we both have the fact, and are capable of appreciating the nature, of the sublime. Sublimity is the form in which spirit, life, and force express energy, magnitude, vastness, and power. 46. The Idea of the Beautiful. a. The forty-sixth fact of the Consciousness, as given in the preced- ing chapter, is that of beauty. All beauty lies in form and expression ; but that form and expression must be the form and expression of that which is good, excellent, and worthy in itself; hence beauty is the form that expresses excellence. b. The idea of beauty, therefore, is based on the fact assumed that all objects are, in their true and better nature, good, excellent, and worthy, and, of course, capable of taking on beauty, or a form which .is beautiful ; and will, indeed, be beautiful when their true nature is truth- fully expressed; but that, now, objects are defective in form, because that form expresses their baser, and not their higher, their false, and not their true, their defective, and not their complete nature. c. The fact is assumed also, that beauty is individual and sui generis, and not general or universal ; that it resides in each individual thing, and that the beauty of that thing is peculiar to itself ; that beauty is not a something which is the same in all things, and which may have a separate existence, independent of the individual objects in which it re- sides ; and hence the idea of the beauty of any individual object is obtained by comprehending the idea of the truer and better nature of that object, and then evolving its fitting and perfect form from that idea. d. Moreover, beauty is an ideal, and not an idea : rather, the idea of beauty is, that it is an ideal, and not simply an idea ; for an idea is necessary and universal, while an ideal is individual and su\generis, and complete and perfect in its singularity. An idea also may be of spirit, life, or force, while an ideal must always be of form ; an idea may be an essence, an ideal must always be a phenomenon. THE INTELLECT. 401 e. Hence the true idea of the beauty of any individual object can be obtained only by comprehending the idea of the true and better nature of that object, and then evolving its complete and perfect form from that idea, and according to it. /. The idea of beauty, or the beautiful, the Reason forms from the fact of the complete personality given by the Consciousness ; hence we have the more complete and full definition of beauty in these words ; viz., Beauty is the perfectness of form as an embodiment and expression of spirit, life, and force. g. But while beauty resides ever in the form, still the form must ever be instinct with the spirit, life, and force which it embodies. Matter, •as we have seen, consists of the objectivity, and impenetrability, and form of any entity, whether it be spirit, life, or force. But the form is the arrangement of that which is objective and impenetrable in spirit, life, and force, so as to express them according to their nature ; and the perfectness of that arrangement, as an expression of spirit, life, and force, is that in form which we call beauty ; and we call it beauty, because we ourselves are of the spirit, the life, and the force, which are so arranged and expressed. h. Beauty is found in all the forms of nature ; as in hills #nd valleys, in streams, and landscapes, and skies. It is also found in animal life, in birds and beasts ; as the swan, the eagle, the gazelle, the horse, and the leopard. But the highest beauty is found in the human personality, and consists in that homogeneous embodiment of the soul, which as to form is adapted, as to size is adequate, as to figure is proportionate and symmetrical, and as to posture, movement, and bearing is at once harmonious and expressive of the living and forceful spirit within. i. We are susceptible to such beauty, and appreciate it, because we are conscious of being ourselves spirit, and life, and force, yearning for adequate expression. That perfectness of form which most completely expresses the consciousness of our highest personality — that must ever be to us the beautiful, and the standard for all beauty. Hence it is true that the Reason takes the completed personality, given as a fact by the Consciousness, and delimits and transfigures it into the necessary and universal idea of the beautiful. 47. The Idea of the Deformed and the Ludicrous. a. The fact gf Consciousness above noted from which this idea is formed is that of deformity and ludicrousness. The deformed and ludicrous are the exaggerations of the sublime and the beautiful, espe- cially of the former, of which it is proverbial that "there is but a step between the sublime and the ridiculous." b. As the sublime is given by the homogeneous augmentation of the 51 402 AUTOLOGY. actual into the strength, magnitude, power, and vastness of the possible, and as the beautiful is the enhancement of the actual into all the homo- geneous proportions of the perfect which lie in the possible, so are the deformed and the ludicrous exaggerations and extravaganzas of the sublime and the beautiful into the misshapen and monstrous, absurd and ridiculous growths which lie in the possible. c. These facts are given by the Consciousness in any disproportion or extravagance of the affections of the mind in relation to one another, or in any misgrowth of any of them ; and such misgrowths do exist ; for man is imperfect; he may have too much egotism, or self-conceit, too much vanity, too much trustfulness, too much hopefulness, too much aspiringness, too much reverentialness, or too little of them. Any of these facts existing would give the ground of deformity and ludicrous- ness in the very structure of the mind itself. d. Now, the Reason, taking any of these facts of consciousness, forms from them the necessary and universal idea of the deformed and the ludicrous. And here, again, it is because of these affections within our own structure and consciousness, that we are capable of knowing and appreciating the deformed and the ludicrous. 48. The Idea of the Eight, or of Moral Differences. The forty-eighth fact above given by the Consciousness is that of ethical distinctions. The conscience accuses, or else excuses, every act and state of the mind ; and from this exercise, experience, and fact given by the Consciousness, the Reason forms the necessary and uni- versal idea of the right, the equitable, and the just, as distinguished from the wrong, aud the unjust, and the inequitable. 49. The Idea of the Bute of Duty. The forty-ninth fact given by the Consciousness, as above, is that of a rule of right. The completed rule of duty is given, of course, by the Reason in its highest intelligence and knowledge ; yet the germ of a rule appears in consciousness after the conscience has distinguished moral difference, which is implied in, and arises from, this action of the con- science itself; and on this fact the Reason forms its necessary and uni- versal idea of a rule of duty, and seeks to perfect it. 50. The Idea of Moral Obligation. a. The fiftieth fact noted as given by the Consciousness above is that of the enforcement of the rule of duty according to the discrimination of the Conscience and the Reason. b. From this fact that the Conscience does enforce and oblige the Will to obey the rule of right, the Reason forms the necessary and uni- versal idea of all moral obligation. THE INTELLECT. 403 51. The Idea of a Personal Creator, or God. a. The fifty-first fact of Consciousness before given was that of man's complete personality, conscious that he is an effect. b. From this fact the Reason forms the idea of the converse of this effect as its cause, which cause must be a personal Creator and God ; for the human personality has in it all the elements of any personality, human or divine. The Creator of such a personality must Himself be a person. Man has not simply a cause, but an author; i. e., a personal Creator. c. Hence, from the fact of Consciousness above given, the Reason forms the necessary and universal idea, and logically demands the being of a personal Creator and God. The will of man, by its free power of choice, exercises the power of God ; the affections - yearn after God ; the conscience appeals to God ; and thus the whole- man comes into the rational consciousness that he is in the image of God. d. As a begun personality, man is rationally conscious that he is in the image of a creating personality. Man as an effect is conscious that he is an effect. As an effect, he is rationally conscious that he is the correlative of a cause which is rational, ethical, affectional, and free ; and thus the Reason not only forms the idea of a personal Creator as God, but draws the logical inference of his actual existence. Thus have we gone through and transformed, by the power of the Reason, all the facts given by the Consciousness into ideas. The Reason, by a power and insight of its own, sees through and comprehends the nature of the facts of the Consciousnsss, and transforms them into ideas. These ideas become, in turn, the means of cognizing other facts, and as such are called categories. SECT. IV. .ABSOLUTE PERSONALITY piSTINGUISHED FROM HUMAN AND IMMORTAL PERSONALITY, AND ALSO FROM BRUTE BEING AND INANIMATE NATURE. - a. Having in the last chapter distinguished and distributed the facts of the Consciousness according to the three great divisions of created being, viz., the Human Mind, Brute Being, and Inanimate Nature, we now dis- tinguish and classify the ideas, which the Reason forms from those facts, into corresponding classes ; viz., Human, Immortal, and Divine mind, or personality, Brute Being, and Inanimate Nature. b. In order to this division and classification of the ideas of the Reason, it will be necessary to present a more distinct and compre- hensive view of the varieties of personality than we, as yet, have done, and, after that, to furnish some further notice of brute being and inani- mate nature. 404 AUTOLOGY. The Varieties of Personality. A. Having before us all the facts of the Human personality and the full and complete idea of what all personality must be everywhere, the Reason is now prepared to form an idea both of immortal and of divine personality. B. a. As to Immortal Personality, we mean by it simply the soul of man and the immortal creatures in the spirit world. The soul of man is simply the personality ; the body is but the soul's instrument. The soul is man's spiritual nature as mind, made up of self-consciousness, will, reason, affections, conscience ; these constituents of the soul are perpetually affirmed by the Consciousness as facts in the self and the will completed into a personality. b. The Will, having- essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, essential self-law, and essential liberty, and being thus the substance of the mind producing as qualities, and holding in the unity of inherence, the affections, intellect, and conscience, is a complete per- sonality and a soul. Free will, affections, reason, and conscience con- stitute a soul. c. On the contrary, a brute has none of these ; it has no will, but only a self; no affections, but only self-sustentative appetites, self- defensive dispositions, parentive feelings, and gregarious propensities ; no reason, but only a sensuous consciousness ; no conscience, but only a love of approbation ; consequently the brute has no soul. d. But man has a soul, and this soul is a fact — a fact of conscious- ness, a person ; and while man in this world, in a human body, is a mortal personality, the soul in the spirit world, with the body of the spirit world, is an immortal personality. This is the only difference. The soul is the same ; only the body changes. e. We see the body die, and decay, and waste, after the soul has left it ; and this because the body is a part of nature ; but this is all we do see. We do not see the soul die ; we only see it cease to manifest it- self through the body. The soul does not die, because it is spirit, and not nature. /. To say that the soul dies with the body or because the body dies, is all a gratuitous assertion ; the prima facie evidence is, that the soul is immortal. That it dies with the body is an assertion that must be proved before it can be received as true ; and the burden of proving this lies upon the party who asserts it. Am I called upon to prove the immortality of my soul? I retort the summons, and demand the proof of my mortality ; and until that is proved, the immortality of my soul stands as a fixed fact ; for it is not in the nature of spirit to die ; only animate and inanimate nature dies, or passes through the change which THE INTELLECT. 405 we call death; for, in fact, nothing in nature ever dies, but only changes, so that nature does not furnish even the analogy of death. # g. But the free, rational, self-conscious soul, having will, affections, intellect, and conscience, is already spirit, and not nature, and in the spirit world, save the body, which connects it with nature. Its instru- ments of body, such as physical resistance and the senses, are only in- struments, not a part of it ; just as one would take a boat with oars, nets, spears, hooks and lines, and rods, in order to go fishing on a lake or stream of water. The boat, oars, nets, spears, hooks, lines, and rods, are no part of the man who goes fishing, but are simply his instruments: so is the body to the soul. And if the boat, oars, nets, and other in- struments should all be left in the midst of the lake, while the man should swim ashore, or all rot on the shore, — that would as much prove the death of the man who used them as does the death of the body the death of the soul. h. The soul is always spirit; it is never nature ; and only nature dies. Spirit never dies ; death has no power whatever over it. The soul is born of spirit ; every soul has its origin outside of nature, and in the will of human parents, who are themselves, not mere nature, but mind, soul, spirit : therefore is the soul always of spirit substance, and always belongs to the race of the immortals. i. Should an angel come down here and take a human body, and then lay it off again and go back to the spirit world, we would have just as good reason to suppose the angel died with the body which it put off, as that the soul of man dies with the body which it puts off. The fact is, we have no evidence whatever that the soul dies with the body ; on the contrary, only the body dies before our eyes, and we bury it ; but the soul was never any part of nature, but always above and out of nature, and distinct from it in origin, in substance, in qualities, and in action ; therefore the soul, being spirit in its essence, and being self-conscious and free in its action, rational in its intelligence, affectional in its sensibilities and ethical in its judgments upon its own actions, is not nature, but spirit ; not allied to brutes, but akin to God ; not mortal, but immortal. j. It does not and cannot die with its working machine, and travelling apparatus, and earth-digging and earth-measuring implement the body, but lays it by at death for another, better adapted to its use, and lives on imperishable forever. How often in eternity the soul may change one form of body for another higher and better, we know not ; but we hope, often, and with delight ; for there will be no sin there, and every such change there will be a sort of divine transfiguration, as Christ's was on the mount and when he ascended, and as death would have been here if there had been no sin. k. Man, or Human Personality, has three limitations : 1. Limitation 406 AUTOLOGY. as to beginning of being. 2. Limitation as to perfectness of being. 3. Limitation as to duration of being. I. Soul, or Immortal Personality, has two limitations: 1. Limitation as to beginning of being. 2. Limitation as to perfectness of being. But no limitation, — i. e., endlessly measurable — as to duration of being. C. Absolute Personality. a. Above we have our first ideas of an immortal personality formed from the fact of a human personality. And now from this idea of an immortal personality, and from all the facts and elements in the human personality, and from the idea of what all personalities must necessarily be, already formed, the Reason rises to the idea of an absolute personality. b. The facts upon which the Reason forms its ideas of an absolute personality, are these : First, the elements which constitute the human personality; viz., Self-consciousness, Will, Reason, Affections, and Con- science, with all their elements and constituents. Second, the action of these elements of personality contributes material for the formation of the idea of an absolute personality ; to wit, the mind has essential activ- ity, and, hence, can begin to act, is an absolute actor ; the mind has essential intelligence, and is, consequently, self-conscious, and can begin to know ; it is, therefore, an absolute knower : the will has essential self-law, and, therefore, has essential liberty, and is absolutely free. c. Furthermore, the Reason comprehends ideas directly and ab- solutely. The affections have absolute spontaneity ; and the conscience gives absolutely the sense of obligation to observe the highest known rules of right. Hence the essential activity is an absolute beginner of action ; the Consciousness is an absolute beginner of knowledge, and knower of facts ; the Reasou is an absolute comprehender of ideas ; the Will is an absolute chooser ; the Affections are absolute sensibilities ; and the Conscience is an absolute discerner and enforcer of the right. d. From the personality thus formed, the Reason has already grasped the idea that all personalities, mortal and immortal, human and divine, must have these elements, and be thus and thus constituted. Then the Reason, taking away and delimiting this personality of mortality, forms from it the idea of an immortal personality. e. And now, the Reason, proceeding again with its work of delimita- tion, forms, from the fact of this human personality, the idea of an ab- solute personality ; a personality which is, — 1. Absolutely illimitable as to beginning of being, or self-existent. 2. Absolutely illimitable as to perfectness of being, or infinite. 3. Absolutely illimitable as to dura- tion of being, or eternal. All these elements summing themselves up together in the one idea of an Absolute Personality, as Creator, Author, and Cause of all. THE INTELLECT. 407 /. What, more fully, is an infinite or absolute personality? for the same is meant by both terms. The infinite, or absolute, is not an idea of space, time, quantity, or degree ; they have no significance with regard to it. It is not made up of parts of space, or periods of time, or portions of quantity, or degrees of reality or quality, or perfectness of power. These never could, by any possibility, become the infinite by any augmentation or addition of amount, no matter how great or how long continued. g. The infinite is that to which nothing can be added, not because it is so great already, and from which nothing can be subtracted, not be- cause it is already so small, but because it is simply absolute. The infinite is absolutely infinite, and not comparatively infinite ; for there is not, and cannot be, any comparative infinite, because the infinite admits of no comparison. And as the infinite is absolutely infinite, so is the absolute infinitely absolute; they qualify and complete each other; and they are thus distinguishable from the definite and the unlimited ; viz., the absolute is not the definite, because it is infinite ; the infinite is not the unlimited, because it is absolute. ■ h. The unlimited may be extended by perpetual addition, or dimin- ished by constant diminution ; but the infinite cannot be increased nor diminished. The absolute is not the definite, simply ; for that has both a beginning and an end ; but the absolute can have neither beginning nor end ; it has simple reality, and is perfect without either. i. ' The idea of the absolutely infinite and the infinitely absolute is the same in nature as that of a sphere, a circle, a cube, a square, a trian- gle, or a straight line ; it can be no more nor less, but absolutely what it is. A circle can be neither more nor less than a circle ; if it deviates from being a true circle, it ceases to be a circle at all : so of a sphere, cube, square, right angle, or straight line ; they are, simply, positive quantities, and are infinitely and absolutely a sphere, circle, cube, square, right angle, and straight line, and can by no possibility be any- thing more or less than these. j. So of the infinite ; it is simply incommensurable and incompara- ble, and* it stands alone, absolute in its infiniteness, and infinite in its absoluteness; the infinite and the absolute mutually complete 'and per- fect each other, are each essential to the other, each, substance and quality of the other, and both are one complete being, one infinite and absolute personality. k. The circularness of the circle is infinitely and absolutely circu- lar ; the sphericalness of a sphere, the cubeness of a cube, the square- ness of a square, the straightness of a straight line, are each and all infinitely and absolutely what they are, and can, by no possibility, be 408 AUTOLOGY. anything- else. So is an infinite and absolute personality infinite and absolute as a personality, and can be nothing- more or less. I. But perhaps our best idea of the infinite is derived from the idea . of power, as infinite power. God's power is infinite ; yet we do not form an idea of its infiniteness by adding one great feat of power to another, or one great exhibition of strength to another. It is not be- cause God can do an unlimited number of things ; it is not that he can move the worlds, whirl them on in orbits, or crush them with a touch, that we think him infinite ; but it is simply this : he can do anything that is do-able, anything that is the subject of power. He can create, give life ; and this power is just as infinite when creating an atom as when creating a world. m. God's infinity has no more relation to space or time than to amount, or degree of being or power ; it is an absolute infinity. All space and all time outside of God are finite. God created them and made them stand firm in the midst of nothingness, and filled them with the worlds. God's own infinite space and time are within himself, in the nature of his own being ; yet he fills the finite space and time which he created by his living presence. God's infiniteness lies altogether in the nature of his being, within him and not outside of him. God's creative- ness is at once his omnipresence and his almightiness. n. Comparative strength is shown by the power to overcome the force of gravitation ; to lift, for instance, a great weight from the ground, by which we show muscle, and nerve, and physical strength. This is resisting the force of gravitation ; and this strength is great in proportion to the weight thus lifted and the amount of the force of gravitation overcome. Now, this is finite power, even though it can lift a world. o. But, on the contrary, the force of gravitation itself, that sustains and holds up all things, is a positive power, which bears up the worlds, great and small, with equal ease. Now, though this is a finite power, yet it serves to illustrate God's power as an infinite power which is not com- parative, like the strength of a giant who should lift a mountain, but abso- lute, like the force of gravitation that holds up and supports all 'things alike, both great and small, both the giant and the world which he lifts. p. The same may be said of God's infinite knowledge. He knows everything, as he can do everything; he knows all the knowable, just as he can do all the do-able. He knows everything which is a subject of knowledge ; and this power is just as manifest in knowing one thing as in knowing a thousand things. He knows everything for the same reason that he knows anything, and is everywhere present for the same 'reason that he is anywhere present. "His centre is every- where, and his circumference nowhere," as all possible and real rela- THE INTELLECT. 409 tions and things are within the grasp of his mind ; for he conceived and created them. q. So all space and all time, as one sphere, were in him, and by him put forth in limitation. Degrees of distance and time are no more to him than degrees of power. As he can do all the do-able, and know all the knowable, so he inhabits, at one and the same moment, all. the inhab- itable, and lives alike in all time at once. Space and time are absolute in him, and made finite by him in his works. To fill all space and all time is to be simply finite. r. Now, from this we see that it is not the infinite which is incompre- hensible, but the finite. The infinite is that to which no measure of any kind can be applied, but which has simply reality, infinite -and absolute ; while the finite or unlimited is the endlessly measurable, whose meas- urement can never be completed, or if completed is finite still. You may measure endless space and never cease applying the measuring line ; yet this is not the infinite, but the finite. You may add world to world forever and never find the end in eternal ages ; yet this addition makes not the infinite, but only the finite forever and forever still. s. We cannot comprehend this unending measuring, that to all eter- nity finds no end. We may travel over God's works forever, and learn that they are " past finding out ; " yet they are only the endlessly meas- urable or finite. The infinite is absolute; and we can comprehend it ; but the finite is unlimited and incomprehensible. It is endlessly measura- ble, but can never be measured ; it is therefore incomprehensible. The brain is bewildered in striving after the end of it, and so it is often called the infinite ; yet it is not the infinite, but only the finite, and that forever and ever. Eternity is finite to all who enter it ; no matter how long it lasts, it is endlessly measurable ; but the infinite is absolute, and admits of no measurement; it only has infinite and absolute reality. It, therefore, is clearly comprehensible, and has a clear and certain recogni- tion in the mind. t. Thus have we an idea of an infinite personality, formed from the fact of our human personality, and the idea, formed from it, of what all personality must be. We have from the person of man, as we have seen, all the essential and elementary facts, ideas, and categories of universal being. These facts and ideas afford us data by which to dis- tinguish the infinite and comprehend its nature. We therefore take such facts from which to form an idea of the infinite and absolute. u. Of such facts we have many. All primary facts are facts of the absolute, though man, in whose being they are found, is not an absolute being. All the primary facts are known absolutely. The Consciousness knows directly and absolutely. The Reason comprehends directly and absolutely. The Will is absolutely free. Liberty is, and cannot possi- 52 410 AUTOLOGY. bly be less than, absolute and infinite. Liberty, if less, would be no liberty at all ; and the human will, as a will, is both infinite and absolute. Its power to make choices is infinite ; for, if the power to choose is not infinite in its extent and absolute in its freedom, it is no power at all. v. While man as a being is finite and frail, weak, and dependent for being and sustenance, and ever falling back to decay and death, yet as a will he is infinite and absolute. He can will infinitely, and is free ab- solutely. His freedom must be absolute, or not at all ; freedom does not admit of degrees. The will is, therefore, infinitely and absolutely free ; man can choose, not only many things, but absolutely everything. As a simple chooser, therefore, the will is both an infinite and an abso- lute will ; and -the conscience, as a discerner and enforcer of the right, is absolute, whether mistaken or not. w. Now, from this fact of a personality whose consciousness, reason, arid will, and conscience act absolutely, and are infinite in their respec- tive spheres, the reason forms the idea of an absolute personality ; a personality which has all the elements of the human personality, but all of them delimited and transmuted, transfigured and glorified, into an ab- solute personality; a personality, — 1. Absolutely unlimited as to be- ginning of being, or self-existent ; 2. Absolutely unlimited as to per- fectness of being, or infinite ; 3. Absolutely unlimited as to duration of existence, or eternal, — all making and summing up one complete and absolute personality. x. Thus have we our first idea of God formed from the fact and nature of our own personality, verifying the Scriptures which affirm that God made man in his own image, by the fact that man finds God in his own image, viz., a personality ; and that he first finds him in the structure and facts of his own personality. y. It will here be observed that God is one of our first, and not one of our last, ideas ; that " he is not far from every one of us ; " and that "in him," literally, "we live, and move, and have our being;" while we find the first traces of his being in our own, deep down in the very elements of our personality, even in the absolute activity of our own living souls, the absolute knowing of our consciousness, the absolute comprehending of our reason, and the absolute choices of our will, and the absolute obligings of our conscience ; and the whole image of his per- sonality in our own personality of will, affections, intellect, and conscience. Thus have we the idea of God as an infinite and absolute personality. z. We shall look after the fact of God's being, and the realization of this idea of God, when we come to the operations of the reason in cog- nizing, under the categories of personality. We are now making cate- gories ; tTien we shall use them in cognizing objects external to the mind, and shall search after God. THE INTELLECT. 411 aa. We here give a Schedule of the Varieties of Personality. 1st. Man, — Human personality has these limitations : — 1. Limitation as to beginning of being. 2. Limitation as to perfectness of being. . 3. Limitation as to duration of being. 2d. Soul, — Immortal Personality. 1. Limitation as to beginning of being. 2. Limitation as to perfectness of being. 3. Unlimited, i. e., endlessly measurable, as to duration of being. From these varieties of personality, the reason. rises to 3d. God, — or Absolute Personality. 1. Absolutely illimitable as to beginning of being, or self-existent. 2. Absolutely illimitable as to perfectness of being, or infinite. 3. Absolutely illimitable as to duration of "being, or eternal. All these elements summing up one absolute personality, one absolute creator, cause, author, the Almighty God, who is blessed forever. bb. The complete set of ideas given in the last section belong to per- sonality, and are essential to its complete cognition ; but the following are the leading or head ideas or categories of personality as distin- guished- from those of brute being and inanimate nature ; viz., — 1. Idea of Will. 2. Idea of Affections. 3. Idea of Intellect. 4. Idea of Con- science. 5. Idea of Human and Immortal Personality. 6. Absolute Personality. While God, self-existent as to being, infinite as to perfectness, and eternal as to duration, is all distinct and different in his nature from man's nature and all the creatures of his power, yet he has in himself all the elements that are in man, in animate life, and in inanimate nature. As man has in him all the elements which are in brute life and in inanimate nature, while he himself has a higher and a different nature, distinct from both, so is God essentially a higher and a different spirit from man, yet has in him also all that is in man and in the creatures below. D. Brute Being. a. We next have the ideas of animal life, differing generically from those of person, yet being in part analogous to them. That they differ in kind, and not in degree, from the ideas of person, and that brute nature is different in kind from man's nature, is proved, as shown in 412 AUTOLOGY. Chap. I., by the fact that human nature has will, affections, reason, and conscience, while the brute has none of them. b. All the ideas in the foregoing section are found in brute being, ex- cept those named as peculiarly personal iu the lists just preceding. The following are peculiar to brute being as distinguished from inanimate nature : — The Leading Ideas formed from Facts of Brute Being. I. Idea of Self. II. 1. Idea of Sensuous Consciousness. 2. Idea of Physical Resist- ance. 3. Idea of the Five Senses. III. 1. Idea of Self-sustentative Appetites. 2. Idea of Self-defen- sive Dispositions. 3. Idea of Parentive Feelings. 4. Idea of Gre- garious Propensities. E. Inanimate Nature. a. We now come to the ideas of inanimate nature, and we find that the same facts that have given us the personal and animal ideas give us, also, the ideas of inanimate nature. It must be observed that, while the five elements of activity, intelligence, individuality, self-law, and liberty, give us will as a free person and a free cause, yet these elements* in themselves, are not free, but are necessary elements ; that is, they act necessarily, and not freely ; therefore they are of the same homo- geneity as any elements or forces in nature. b. It is true that the forces of essential activity and intelligence are adapted to produce life, intelligence, and freedom, reason, affections, and conscience in man ; and that in brute life they fail to produce freedom, which is soul, or spirit ; and, consequently, fail to produce affections, reason, and conscience ; and hence they show themselves to be a different activity and a different intelligence from that of man, and inferior to it. c. And so it must be true, also, that vegetable life must differ essen- tially from animal life ; and the forces of attraction, electricity, gravita- tion, and crystallization, must also differ from both of them ; yet all these forces are causes, which causes produce effects by their own proper force as involuntary causes. The same is true of the primordial elements of activity and intelligence, which, as causes, produce the effect, individuality, or self. They are, in their working, involuntary and necessary, showing neither design nor choice, but acting by force of nature as surely, as unthinkingly, as necessarily, as much without freedom or alternative, as do gravitation and crystallization ; and therefore they are, so far forth, mere causes of -nature, and not free causes ; and THE INTELLECT. 413 hence they are facts of nature, and may be given as the ground of the ideas and principles of nature, and of a nature of things. d. Hence the essential activity and the essential intelligence may serve as facts of involuntary cause, acting without design and without choice, and only according to native tendencies ; just as any force in nature acts, going involuntarily to a necessary and unavoidable result. These facts are, therefore, as we have already seen, the first and true ground of our idea of cause, of natural and involuntary cause ; as Will, when complete, gives us the fact and the idea of free cause. e. So also is each of the succeeding facts of effect, time, quantity, space, action, and re-action, substance, and qualities, a mere fact of na- ture, involuntary and necessary ; for, although the will is a free will, yet, as the substance of the mind, or person, it is involuntary or neces- sary ; and the qualities spring out of it necessarily as qualities, not of the will, but of the personality, or mind ; and hence all these facts are facts of nature, and not of freedom ; they are necessary facts of neces- sary forces, or elements, acting necessarily and according to undesigned and uuchoosing tendencies, just as all forces in nature act. Therefore these facts furnish the data for the ideas, or categories of inanimate nature. /. If it be said that the activity and the intelligence which are the causes of individuality, have the principle of life and of intelligence in them, and thus differ from vegetable and crystalline forces, the reply is, that vegetable life differs from crystalline forces, and crystalline from cohesive forces, and all from the force of gravitation ; yet this differ- ence does not take them out of the one class and nature in which they agree ; viz., that they are all involuntary and necessary forces. g. The fact that inanimate nature can never become animate nature, and the fact that animal life can never become human life, no more take them out of the same class of necessary forces than the fact that crys- talline force can never become vegetable life, or than the fact that vegetable life can never become animal life, takes them out of the same class. h. These different forces of crystalline, vegetable, animal, and hu- man being, and life, can never change places, nor become the one or the other, but must forever remain distinct, having impassable barriers between them ; yet they are all alike and of the same class in this re- spect—that the forces causing and constituting them are all involun- tary, necessary, undesigning, and unchoosing forces ; forces that act by constitutional impulse and according to inherent tendencies, and not freely or by intuition. i. We therefore take the facts found in analyzing the construction of the personality (made up, as it is, .of will, affections, intellect, and con- 414 AUTOLOGY. science) as facts of nature or of being, and not facts of personality. Let the distinction be particularly noted : the fact of will, when made, is a fact of personality ; but the fact of essential activity and essential intelli- gence working together and producing individuality, or self, self-law, liberty, and will, is not a fact of personality, but a fact of nature work- ing as a necessary cause, and producing of necessity a result. j. Just so the Will, when produced, is a free will ; but as the sub- stance of the mind, or personality, producing and holding the qualities of 'the personality in inherence, it is a necessary substance, or essence, out of which spring, necessarily, the qualities of personality, viz., affec- tions, intellect, and conscience. Affections are, therefore, a quality of personality ; but they are produced by the involuntary and necessary development of the essential activity and intelligence, though chiefly by the former, in which an affectional nature inheres. So also are the in- tellect and the conscience facts and qualities of personality, but are produced by the necessary working of necessary causes : indeed, when produced, they work necessarily, and not freely themselves. k. Thus it is the working of necessary causes that produces person- ality, both in its substance and its qualities ; and while the will and the personality, of which it is the centre, essence, and substance, are free, yet those things which make the will — those elements which compose it, and which, when it is composed, still break forth and produce quali- ties of the personality — are not free, either in their nature or in their working; but when they are producing the will, the affections, the intellect, or the conscience, they act mechanically, and produce their results necessarily. I. We therefore take the facts which constitute the mind as facts of nature, and as the basis of the ideas of inanimate nature, while we take the facts which these facts constitute as facts of personality and of brute life. Some of the leading ideas of Inanimate Nature. 1. Idea of Cause. 2. Idea of Effect. 3. Idea of Time. 4. Idea of Substance. 5. Idea of Quality. 6. Idea of Action and Reaction. 7. Idea of Object, or Quantity. 8. Idea of Space. 9. Idea of Possible Being. 10. Idea of Actual Being. 11. Idea of Necessary Being. These, together with the idea of the Reason, found in the preceding Section, except such as relate to personal and animal life, belong to inanimate nature in common with personal and brute being. m. We see that the self, as the substance of animal life, with its qualities, may be cognized by the ideas or categories of mere inanimate nature to the extent to which inanimate nature can go ; but we see, also, that there are things in animal or brute life which no ideas or THE INTELLECT. 415 categories of mere inanimate nature are adequate to cognize or explain ; and that, therefore, animal life must have ideas or categories of its own, in addition to those of mere inanimate nature. So also may personality be cognized in part by the ideas or categories of mere animal nature, but not wholly ; indeed, its essential properties cannot be reached at all by the ideas or categories of mere, animal life. So can the personality be cognized, but in a still less degree, by the ideas or categories of mere inanimate nature. 11. In common with inanimate nature, will and self (or personality and brute life) have the ideas or categories of inanimate nature, but they also have more. It is true that they have cause, effect, time, quantity, space, action, reaction, substance, and qualities, just as inanimate nature has, but they have also more. o. Animal life has an intelligent, an animated, a living self, as sub- stance, having within it certain qualities, such as sensuous conscious- ness, and certain appetites, feelings, dispositions, and propensities. But the mind has free will as free cause, with affections, reason with the sense, and conscience, over and above all that both inanimate nature and animal life have, and hence must have its own peculiar ideas or categories, which are above, and which include, those of brute life and inanimate nature. . p. But we have, after all, only one complete set of ideas or categories formed from the facts of consciousness, and reaching from" man down to brute life and inanimate nature ; the higher always being of a distinct nature, yet always including the lower, though the lower never includes the higher. F. Why are there no more, and no fewer Ideas or Categories? a. The reply is, that they are limited, in the first instance, to the facts which constitute the human mind. There are no more ideas, simply because there are no more facts in man's personal being to make them out of; and there are no less, because we find all these facts in the human being, or personality of man ; just as a triangle can have but three angles ; a square but four ; and just as we give the will five ele- ments, because consciousness tells of these five, and no more ; and just as the affections have six elemental affections, and six orders of deter- minate affections, and not more nor less, because consciousness does not give more, nor reason require more or less ; and just as we shall find the conscience, made up by the joint action of all the preceding faculties, the highest intelligent rule of action, and the purest ethical imperative to that action. h. Thus is.it here with the knowing faculty; it explores the person- ality for all its facts, and then forms on them its ideas : rather, it com- 416 AUTOLOGY. prehends them, and, in comprehending, transfigures them into ideas. Thus are the ideas, or the categories, formed of the facts of being, and are what they are, and are as many, and as few, as they are, because the facts of man's personality are just what they are. The facts control the number, as they create the kind, of the ideas and the categories. c. There may be facts in the human mind which we have failed to note, and which would be the ground of more ideas than we have given ; so also may there be more ideas in the facts which we have found than we have given ; but the facts that are in the human mind are the foun- dation and the limit of all the original and generic ideas which lie at the foundation of all knowledge. d. Other facts will be found outside of man in the outer universe ; but man's ability to cognize them consists in his knowledge of the origi- nal facts of his own being and the ideas which he forms from them. These ideas are the original language of the soul, and of all souls ; and with them man can begin the knowledge of everything, and without them he can know nothing. e. This is not making man the measure of all things, and reducing the knowledge of the universe to a knowledge of man ; but it is pos- sessing the mind with the elements of all knowledge, and with the power to begin to learn the outer world. The facts in man's nature are uni- versal facts. Man's being, next to God, is the first and highest in the universe; and from him, therefore, the elements of knowledge are gained with which to know all things ; and that because a fact in man's nature is the same as a fact in any other part of the universe. /. And the reason, by its own insight, grasps and comprehends the universal and the necessary amidst the individual and the particular in man's being ; and with these necessary and universal ideas, or cate- gories, man is prepared to go out into universal nature, and into all parts, and among all natures of the universe, and is able to cognize them, because he has in his own mind universal truths and principles, which are true and homogeneous everywhere. He can cognize God ; for while God, as self-existent, infinite, eternal, and absolute personality, is essentially distinct and higher than man in nature, having in himself all that man, animal life, and inanimate nature have, yet man, as in God's image, has in him elements homogeneous with God's nature, and can know him. g. The truth that is in the strrcture of the human mind is the same that exists in the structure of God, angels, and the universe of worlds everywhere ; hence, "whosoever has these truths and the ideas formed from them, has the language of nature, the language of the soul, the language of angels, the language of God, and is prepared to travel THE INTELLECT. 417 everywhere, and to hold converse with all natures and all beings, — with God, nature, and rational souls, in all parts of the universe. h. And now the reason qualified with this its own vernacular tongue will go out (when equipped with physical resistance and the five senses) to explore and learn the outer and objective world, cognizing, and to cognize. It will find new facts and form new ideas, and thus learn many new languages, even as many as all the objects of the world with which it comes in contact. It will learn the language of all the inhabit- ants of all the different kingdoms in the vast empire of the universe, and will speak to them in their own proper tongues, calling them by their own names, as Adam did the beasts and objects brought before him in the new world in which he was placed. i. The facts within the human mind, and the ideas formed upon them, may be known completely and definitely ; for there is a limit to them : but the facts and ideas of the outer world can never be fully known ; for there is no end to them. The learning of them is the learning that is "ever learning, and never coming to a knowledge of the truth;" and the making of books on the outer world is " the making of books, of which there is no end." j. This work of measuring and knowing the outer world, and this outer world itself, are the finite, which can never be finited, and the com- prehensible, which can never be comprehended. The infinite is compre- hensible, because it is simply perfect and absolute ; but the finite is imperfect, incomplete, and indefinite, and, consequently, can never be fully known or comprehended ; it is not the existence and person so much as the created works of God, that are "past finding out." 53 418 AUTOLOGY. DIVISION II. ABSOLUTE KNOWING, OR THE ORIGIN AND NATURE OF IDEAS AND OF THE SENSE. ■ CHAPTER III. FACTS, IDEAS, AND CATEGORIES OF THE UNEMBODIED MIND, OR SOUL ISLAND. a. We now propose to examine and set forth as a whole the vital and dynamical structure of the Soul, which has risen like an Island Rock — a Coral Isle in the midst of the Sea of Being 1 . This Island is made up of the facts of the Consciousness, and of the ideas and categories of the Reason. In Chap. I. the Consciousness has given us the particular facts of the soul's being and life. In Chap. II. the Reason has given us the necessary and universal ideas which it forms from these particular facts of the Con- sciousness. In. these two chapters are fully set forth the actual facts found by the explorations of the Consciousness, as existing in the soul, and constituting the soul itself; and the ideas defined and set forth which the Reason forms from them. All this is presented as a matter of discovery, and written down as actual statistics. To these two chapters of facts and ideas the reader is referred for the actual material of the facts and the actual formation of the ideas of the' soul. Both the nature •and material of the particular facts, and the actual formation of the universal and necessary ideas, are there stated. Those chapters will suffice for a full description. We now write out in full the abstract table of the particular facts, and the universal ideas and the categories thence arising, which are piled up in successive lifts and layers, one upon another, from the bottom to the top, until they reach the surface, and the Soul Island appears in the light and air of heaven. Thus far the work, facts, and ideas have all been subjective, and all has been done by the Consciousness and the Reason ; hereafter the soul will take on body and sense, as the Island takes on soil and verdure. The table of facts and ideas here presented as building the island of the soul, constitutes THE INTELLECT. 419 also the categories of being and knowing. The facts are particular facts; the ideas formed from them are universal ideas ; these ideas constitute the categories, and are identical with them. There is no difference be- tween an idea and a category, save that the term " idea" is employed when we comprehend the nature of a thing ; we form an idea of a thing when we comprehend that thing. But we call the same idea a " category " when we use it to cognize or comprehend some other thing ; hence cate- gories are identical with ideas, and consist of them. They have the same necessary and universal nature that ideas have, and hence they are the knowledges of the soul, which it has beforehand, by means of which it cognizes all objects with which it comes in contact in the external world. CONTINGENT AND PARTICULAR FACTS AND NECESSARY AND UNIVERSAL IDEAS FORMING SOUL ISLAND. A. Elemental Facts, Ideas and Categories. 1. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Activity. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Essen- tial Activity. 2. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Intelligence. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Essen- tial Intelligence. 3. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Self. The Reason, forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Essen- tial Self. 4. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Self-law. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Self-law. 5. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Liberty. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Essen- tial Liberty. 6. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Free Will. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Essen- tial Free Will. B. Facts, Ideas and Categories op Being. Y. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Being. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Being. 8. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Diversity. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Diversity. 9. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Identity. . The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Identity. 420 AUTOLOGY. 10. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Resemblance. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Resem- blance. C. Causal Facts, Ideas and Categories, 11. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Cause. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Cause. 12. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Effect. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Effect. 13. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Vital and Dy- namical connection between Cause and Effect. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the ' Vital and Dynamical connection between Cause and Effect. 14. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Vital and Dy- namical Identity of Cause and Effect. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the Vital and Dynamical Identity of Cause and Effect. 15. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Motion. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Motion. 16. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Number. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Number. 17. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Time. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Time. D. Facts, Ideas and Categories of Substance. 18. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Substance. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Sub- stance. 19. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Quality. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Quality. 20. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Affections. The Reason' forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Affec- tions. 21. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Intellect. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of In- tellect. 22. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Conscience. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Con- science. 23. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Vital and Dy- namical relation between Substance and Quality. THE INTELLECT. 421 The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the Vital and Dynamical relation between Substance and Quality. 24. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Vital and Dy- namical Identity of Substance and Quality. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the Vital and Dynamical Identity of Substance and Quality. E. Facts, Ideas and Categories of Vitality. 25. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Action and Reaction. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Ac- tion and Reaction. 26. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Perpetual Identity of the Self. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Per- petual Identity of the Self. 21. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Perpetual Reknow- ing of the Consciousness. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Per- petual Reknowing of the Consciousness. F. Facts, Ideas and Categories of Personality. 28. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Free Cause. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Free Cause. 29. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Final Cause. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Final Cause. 30. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Complete Personality. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Com- plete Personality. G. Facts, Ideas and Categories of Objectivity. 31. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Object. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Object. 32. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Whole and Part. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Whole and Part. 33. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Measure. , The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Meas- ure. 34. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Space. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Space. 35. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Impenetrability. 422 AUTOLOGY. The Reason forms from It the universal Idea and Category of Im- penetrability. H. Facts and Ideas of the Kind op Being. 36. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Spirit. ■ . The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Spirit. 37. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Life. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Life. 38. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Force. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Force. 39. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Matter. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Matter. I. Facts, Ideas and Categories of Mode. 40. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Mode. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Mode. 41. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Actual. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the Actual. 42. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Possible. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the Possible. 43. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Necessary. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the Necessary. J. iEsTHETICAL FACTS, IDEAS AND CATEGORIES. 44. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the True. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the True. 45. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Sublime. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the Sublime. 46. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Beautiful. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the Beautiful. •47. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Deformed and the Ludicrous. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the Deformed and the Ludicrous. K. Ethical Facts, Ideas and Categories. 48. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Right. THE INTELLECT. 423 The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the Right. 49. The Consciousness gjves the particular Fact of a Rule of Duty. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of a Rule of Duty. 50. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Moral Obligation. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Moral Obligation. L. Theistical Facts, Ideas and Categories. 51. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Personality. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of a Personal Creator and God. I. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, first, that it is a submarine rock-mountain, built up from the bottom of the sea of being, with the facts and faculties of the soul itself joined and framed together by their own spirit, life, and force. This Island was begun low down at the bottom by the first small and almost indistinguishable facts of the con- sciousness, viz., essential activity and essential intelligence ; they, by combining and developing themselves, built up the self, the will, the affec- tions, the intellect, and the conscience, completing the whole in one personality. ■ b. These facts are, so to speak, but the leading ledges and lifts of this rock-built mountain ; for between them and around them are built in all the other facts of the consciousness which we have given ; and they are piled up, rock upon rock, and layer upon layer, from the deep foundation up to the surface, forming one island of living stone, now ready, to take on earth and soil above the water and in the air, bearing fruit and flower and supporting animal life in the light, and heat, and atmosphere of the common heavens over it. c. In other words, the soul is now ready to take on the body and the senses, and appear among the entities and the phenomena of flesh and blood, and of physical being and life. II. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, secondly, that it is the place where all the original, necessary, and universal ideas of the soul are created ; that the Reason takes the spiritual, vital and dynamical facts of which it is composed, and delimits and transfigures them into necessary and universal ideas ; and that these ideas lie between, and fill up, the interstices of the facts, which, as so many successive strata, build up the whole island of the soul, and form its existence. III. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, thirdly, that it is the sub- 424 • AUTOLOGY. ject matter and the- abode of all the soul's absolute knowledge. It contains the facts of the consciousness, and the ideas of the reason, both of which it knows with an absolute knowing-. The criterion of absolute knowing is this : viz., the knower and the known must be identical, while in relative knowing they may be diverse. The facts of conscious- ness and the ideas of the reason constitute the sum total of the soul's absolute knowledge. IV. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, fourthly, that it is the forge and storehouse of the .categories which are the moans of all relative knowing. The categories are identical with the universal and necessary ideas which the Reason forms from the original facts of consciousness. As such they are necessary and universal forms according to which all things exist, and by which they are known. The Reason, which created the ideas from the facts of consciousness, discerning them to be the necessary and universal forms of all being, constructs from them the categories, and takes them, when thus formed, as a means of under- standing, interpreting, and explaining all things in heaven and in earth. b. Thus it appears that this Soul Island, by means of the original facts, ideas, and categories of which it is composed, contains the ele- ments of all the knowledge of the outer world ; for it is only by means of the things already known that we can know the, as yet, unknown ; i. e., it is only by means of something known absolutely, that we can know anything relatively ; and all things except the mind itself (this Soul Island itself) are known by only a relative knowing. The mind knows itself, i. e., its own primary facts of consciousness and its own original ideas and categories of the reason, absolutely ; but with these knowledges of itself and these ideas and categories known absolutely, it knows the outer world and all outside of the mind relatively. V. a. Of this Island it may be said, fifthly, that it is the home of Memory. The categories by which we cognize objects and events, in the first instance, are the means also by which we re-cognize in the second instance ; i. e., by which we remember. These categories, or ideas, are held in the mind by the perpetual action and reaction of the soul, by which its own continued being and identity are preserved. Re- membering is re-cognizing; i. e., cognizing the fact' that we have before cognized the object that is now presented to us. Now, this is re-cogniz- ing only in relation to the first act of cognizing, but, in reality, it is nothing more than simply cognizing a fact by an idea, or category, pre- cisely like any other act of cognition. (See " Remembering," Division III.) THE INTELLECT. 425 VI. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, sixthly, that it is the birth- place of Faith. Its facts, ideas, and categories are the material and ground of the faith of the soul in all things which are the original sub- jects of faith. These skeleton facts of the consciousness, these created ideas and categories of the reason, which are absolutely known and lie in amongst them, — these are that " substance of things hoped for," and that "evidence of things not seen," which Paul, with so much intuitive insight, calls faith ; i. e., they are the ground of faith. b. Faith poises itself on the absolute knowledge within, and spreads its wings for the attainment of relative knowledge without. We now stand a't the medium point in the progress of knowledge between the inner and the outer -world, between absolute knowing and relative know- ing, our faith resting on the former, and believiug in, and looking for- ward to, the latter, which we cannot, as yet, know. For while we have all the ideas, categories, and knowledges necessary to cognize the exter- nal world, we have so far no senses by which the Reason may come into contact with the objects of an outer world, in order to perceive and cog- nize them. c. We are compelled in our present condition to remain upon this Soul Island, between the knowledge of the inner and of the outer world, between absolute knowing, which is behind us, and relative knowing, which is before us, until the sense Observatory is formed and supplied with the apparatus of the five senses with which we may collide and sensate the things outside of the mind. Behind and below us are all the facts of consciousness, and all the ideas formed and built up from the first elements of being. We have all the means of interpreting the facts in the external world, if we could only come at those facts. We have the whole set of the categories or ideas of truth, and all the ideas and facts upon which they are based ; but we cannot use them for want of the instruments for reaching the outer world and the objects upon which to use them ; which instruments the sense alone can bring to us. d. What, then, is the point between these two worlds ; the world within and the world without, between absolute knowing and relative knowing, upon which we stand ? The reply is, It is the naked soul itself, built up of the facts of consciousness, and of the ideas and cate- gories of the reason, all of which we absolutely know. Here, with all the grounds of believing in an external world beneath, and in the posses- sion of the soul, it believes in the existence of an external world, and frames to itself a body and senses, and limbs afld members, for its use in discovering and exploring it. e. Faith here is not knowledge, but it rests on knowledge: i. e., it rests on absolute knowledge, which gives both the assurance of relative knowledge and the power of obtaining it. The soul knows itself a 54 426 AUTOLOGY. reality and an object in space, having essential individuality and essen- tial impenetrability : nay, it knows itself as essentially objective as well as subjective ; and hence, that objectivity is and must be ; and the possession of this knowledge, which it has by virtue of its own know- ingness, independent of the senses and of all external things, —this it is that gives it the ground of an intelligent belief in the existence of an outer world, which, as yet, it has not seen, though it has fully the power to know when it shall be provided with the senses. f. And so strong is the soul's faith in the existence of an outer world, that it forms to itself a body, as " Noah, moved with fear, prepared an ark ; " and, like that ark, it has a heaven and earthward-looking win- dow of the sense in it. g. What is faith ? We reply, It is the conclusion of the mind from the existence and nature of the known to the existence and nature of the unknown ; i. e., from "the substance [ground] of things hoped for " and from "the evidence of things not. seen," to the things hoped for, but not, as yet, seen. The outer world as such is, as yet, unknown ; for the mind has no senses by which to come into contact with it ; but it be- lieves in it, and prepares itself with senses with which to find and ex- plore it. h. Faith, therefore, differs from knowledge in this : viz., knowledge requires the presence of the thing to be known, while faith requires the absence of the thing which it believes. All faith rests upon absolute knowledge. I believe in the outer world, because I know with absolute certainty the being of the world within, and that the inner world has objectivity. I myself am objective and impenetrable. I know I am objective, because I am impenetrable ; and I therefore know that all things are objective, and that all objective things have impenetrability. As object I fill space ; I therefore know that all objects must fill space. i. Faith, therefore, in the objective world, rests upon, and is insepa- rable from, the original objectivity and impenetrability of my own soul. It is because I know absolutely that I exist and have impenetrability, that I am able to know that any other object exists in space. I can come into contact with another object only because I can first come into con- tact with myself. The reality of another thing is knowable to me, because I first know myself as real ; and this knowledge is the ground of my faith in an external world. I believe in the existence without, which I absolutely know within. j. It is also important here to point out the different relations of faith to the different kinds of knowledge ; to wit, faith always comes after absolute knowledge, and implies the presence of absolute knowledge and of its object as its ground of belief; but it always comes before relative knowledge, — i. e., the relative knowing of the thing believed in, THE INTELLECT. 42T and implies, and necessarily requires, its absence and the absence of its object as a condition of its existence. k. Now, this rock-built Island of the Soul, in the midst of the sea of being, is the birthplace and the home of Faith. 'How wide soever -faith may travel, and over how many seas soever it may sail, this rock of being*, built of first facts and first ideas, — this is its natal place and its eternal island home. Here it was born with the soul that gave it birth ; and here with that soul alone will it die, if die it must. I. Thus much have we given here of faith, indicating its true nature and position as an act of the Reason acting upon its own absolute knowl- edge as an eternal basis, and believing in the absent and unseen, and, as yet, unseeable world. VII. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, seventhly, that it is the place whereon is created and erected the Watch-tower and Observatory of the sense, from which the soul looks forth upon the outer world around and the heavens above it. Here is formed the scientific appai'atus of the soul, the five senses, with touch, and smell, and taste for that which is near, and ears and eyes for the'high and the distant. b. This Soul Island, it must be kept in mind, is alive ; it is a living being, with spirit, life, and force, having soul and body. We have piled up the living island, layer upon layer, from the deep bottom to the surface of the sea of being, and it is now ready to have erected upon it the glass-domed tower and lighthouse of the body, whence with the many instruments of the senses, it may survey and examine the heavens and the earth. c. The island of the naked soul, though built of facts and ideas absolutely known, and though it is the source of all knowledge and of all faith, is yet but a poor, dark place to live in. To live there would be to remain deaf, and dumb, and blind, and insensible, though alive. We must put upon this naked soul the warm and sensitive covering of flesh and blood, and build upon it the high tower of the sense, with windows looking east and west, and north and south, — yea, and heaven- ward, too, — before we can make it a habitation of intelligence, and sun- light, and life for the soul. d. In other terms, we must erect on the primal strata of the soul — viz., will and affections, intellect and conscience — the tower of the Body, with nerves, and flesh, and bones, and heart, and lungs, and stomach, with hands and feet, and eyes, and ears, and taste, and smell, and touch ; then will it be able to cognize the world without, to gain new facts, new ideas, and new categories, and new beliefs, reaching all over the universe of God. 428 AUTOLOGY. e. We now pass to the examination of the body, and the sense, and their relation to the mind. We shall then, being 1 fully prepared for it both by ideas of the reason and by organs of sense, show what relative knowing is. And then also we shall be in full position to show again what faith is, and what .its relation to relative knowing is, and how it builds itself anew in the results of relative knowing, and looks out upon the- absent and the unknown ; and in this way shall we complete the exposition of its whole nature, position, and functions. THE INTELLECT. 429 DIVISION II. ABSOLUTE KNOWING, OR THE ORIGIN AND NATURE OF IDEAS AND OF THE SENSE. CHAPTER IV. THE SENSE. THE CONSCIOUSNESS GIVES THE FACTS, AND REASON GIVES THE IDEAS, OF THE SENSE. SECT. I. THE NATURE AND FACULTIES OF THE SENSE, AND ITS RELATION TO THE BODY. A. a. The Reason is now qualified with ideas and knowledges of the knowable, called categories, to go out and cognize all objects in the world external to it ; but as yet it is as a man would be who was thoroughly educated and highly intellectual, but lacked locomotion, an*d was deaf and blind, and without the power of taste, or smell, or feeling. He might be ever so competent to cognize the universe of things, if he had any method of coming into contact with it, and of seeing, hearing, touching, smelling, or tasting after he had come into contact with it. b. Now, this is precisely the thing wanting to the reason at this point ; it wants the means of coming into contact with external objects, that it may perceive them, and then cognize, and then remember them ; then conceive, then classify them ; then ratiocinate and rhetorize about them ; then theorize, invent, and imagine from them ; then enhance them, beautify them, and theogonize and legislate from them. This want is supplied by the physical resistance and the five senses, which we shall now consider as the physical instruments, or antennae of the mind, as it is placed in a human body. B. What are the Steps in Obtaining a Knowledge of a Particular Thing ? a. In order that the Reason may now, with its ideas, obtain a knowl- edge of external objects, three things are necessary : — 430 AUTOLOGY. ' First. That it come in contact with 5 or be brought into contact with, the external object. This is done by the Sense. Second. That it perceive the object thus brought before it. This the Reason does by means of the Sense as its instrument. Third. That it cognize the object with which it is thus brought into contact, and which is perceived by it. This is done by the Reason in interpreting the finding of the Sense by the idea of the Reason ; i. e., interpreting the object, of whose presence it is made aware through the Sense, by the ideas of the Reason. b. This discrimination will lead us, in this section, to examine the Sense and its office, reserving it for the next division to ascertain what perception and cognition are. We shall then have external objects be- fore us, and be prepared for the further operations of the mind C. What are the Faculties op Sense ? a.' The Sense is the instrument of perception ; it is a physical instru- mentality, serving the purposes of the Reason in the perception and the cognition of external objects. As the Consciousness, on the one hand, furnishes subjective facts, the primary facts of being, to the Reason from within, so the Sense furnishes the outward facts of external nature to the Reason. The Sense is, therefore, a sensuous consciousness, and is composed of two parts: first, physical resistance, or impenetrability; and second, the five senses. b. The first of these is 'derived more directly from the primordial element, essential activity, and the second from essential intelligence, though each partakes of both in some degree. c. But by the essential activity the whole person is brought into contact with external objects, and thus shows itself impenetrable, or capable of physical resistance, and as having incompressibility. On the other hand, the essential intelligence, or consciousness, shows itself through the various fine coatings and sensitive and transparent mem- branes and nerves of the five senses. D, a. The Will, the Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience, are the naked Soul, which, taking on body, as we shall see, reserves to itself the five senses as windows, lookouts, breathing-holes, through which they come into contact with the external world in its various phases and aspects. b. We come, then, to the question, " What is physical resistance ? " and the reply is, that it is nothing more or less than the natural impene- trability of all real objects, whether physical or mental, bodily or spiritual. This resistance is manifested when any two objects are brought violently into contact with each other. They then show that they cannot both occupy the same place at the same time. They may THE INTELLECT. 431 be brought into collision with ever so great power, yet they will maintain their ultimate incompressibility and individuality, and will be mutually impenetrable. c. That which is true of bodies, as matter, is true also of minds, souls, or spirits ; for if two persons in human bodies were thrown into collision so frequently and so violently that their bodies should thereby be destroyed, and become invisible and intangible, still their minds would remain conscious, each of its own individuality, and the self-conscious- ness of the one would include and enclose itself, and repel and exclude the self-consciousness of the other, and they would thus retain their impenetrability, and stand distinct, the one over against the other. d. What, then, is meant by physical resistance, is the contact of two impenetrable and incompressible objects. This contact is physical resistance, and it is what we mean by perception ; that is, by it the Reason is made aware of the presence of an object ; an object which is impenetrable and incompressible, and which is, therefore, a real and substantial thing. E. a. What is perceived by physical resistance ? The reply is, that it is not the qualities of the thing which we thus cognize, nor simply the quantity, but the substance, the reality of the thing. b. Its qualities and its quantity, as such, do not appear until the five senses have applied the nerves, and their various sensations, and delicate antennae, to it ; but this they could not do ; for the violence of the con- cussion would stun and destroy them, if it was attempted to use them. It is only contact that we have here, not sensation ; physical resistance has no sensation ; but the five senses have both contact and sensation. This is the difference. Hence physical resistance discerns only substance, while the five senses perceive both quantity and quality as superadded to the substance already perceived. c. Moreover, physical resistance and the perception are made by the whole body, the whole person and soul as a whole, and by means of bringing its wholeness, its entirety, its impenetrability, into contact with the wholeness, entirety, and impenetrability of another object, and thus ascertaining by experiment that it, as well as itself, has a being, an impenetrable being, which is a whole and an entirety, utterly incompres- sible like its own : this is physical resistance, and this is that with which it is done, and that which is perceived by means of it. Physical resist- ance is made by the whole man, at once and as a whole, and the thing which it perceives is substance, or essence. d. This is the first part of the faculty which we have called " Sense," whose office is to afford facilities for perceiving ; that is, to bring objects before the Reason, that it may become aware of their presence. The second part of the faculty of the Sense is the five senses — seeing, hear- 432 AUTOLOGY. ing, touching, smelling, and tasting. We next inquire, " What are the five senses ? " As.the senses are organs of the body through which the mind perceives and cognizes, it will be necessary first to answer another question, " What is body ? " or, " What is it to be embodied ? " and this will be the subject of the next section. SECT. II. WHAT IS BODY, AND WHY IS THE SOUL EMBODIED? A. a. The difference between being embodied and disembodied, as we call it, may not be just as it is commonly apprehended. . So may the possession and exercise of organs of sense differ from what they are ordinarily supposed to be. b. To have substance and impenetrability is to have body, or quan- tity, necessarily. c. To have an individuality, as opposed to and distinct from another individuality, is to have body necessarily ; and for one such body, whether flesh or spirit, to communicate with another body, is to exercise . what we name the organs of sense ; that is, it is to communicate with signs, as sound, tone, speech, motion, or pantomime, or by touch or contact, or by smell or taste. d. Body and sense, therefore, for the above reasons, belong to spirits as well as men. What other methods spirits may have, over and above impenetrability and the five senses, we know not ; but these they must have, as they have bodies. The body of anything is but its necessary form or mode of existeuce, adapted to its condition in air or in water, in earth or sky. e. For instance : a thought is in my mind. I write it on paper in a word with letters ; as the word " truth." Now, the written word "truth " is the body of the thought "truth ; " and so it meets the eye. I utter the word " truth," and the sound of that word is its body. I see that a straight line drawn from one point to another is the shortest distance between them ; and here I have another embodiment of the thought " truth." But if the thought " truth " may thus take on these different bodies, — the body of sight, the body of sound, or of touch, — according to its circumstances, then, surely, it is not wonderful that a soul should take on body, at any time, according to its circumstances. /. And as the thovight "truth" cannot be coriimunicated without a body, so a soul, in order to communicate with other souls and make itself known to them, must necessarily take on a body. A body, then, is indispensable, in order to converse between souls, and between souls and nature ; and so also senses, the five senses, are necessary in order to converse and communication between one mind and another. All souls, then, at all times, have, of necessity, some sort of body. THE INTELLECT. 433 g. That body may be changed according- to circumstances : bodies are different in this life from bodies in the life to come, and the soul may possibly pass and repass from one to the other hereafter, as did Christ, and Moses, and Elias at the transfiguration ; but some sort of body souls must have. h. Indeed, impenetrability and individuality necessitate bod}-, and are body by virtue of impenetrability and individuality. All communi- cation between souls, or spirits, implies and necessitates senses ; for there can be no communication between distinct and independent self- consciousness, save by something analogous to the senses. B. a. The senses, then; are the several methods by which the mind, having a body, takes cognizance of external objects : they are points in the body where the intelligent and conscious soul will not allow itself to be entirely shut in, but where it covers itself with only such nerves as will least hinder and most facilitate its communication with the outer world. b. As the spirit naturally takes on body by virtue of its own living ac- tivity and intelligence, and by virtue of its own impenetrability and indi- viduality, and as each individuality is distinct, and seeks to know and communicate with other individuals outside- of it, it must, of course, have some method of intercourse, contact, and communication. c. And this is no more true of embodied minds than disembodied minds ; of minds in the natural, than in the spiritual world ; for the body is simply the form of the mind : all its parts serve the mind, and are such as the mind would naturally take on in such a life as this. It is all adapted to carry out the intents of the mind, and the will of the Creator here. d. Its provisions for sustentation and reproduction, as well as for seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, touching, thinking, and speaking, are all alike for the intents of the mind and the ends of being ; and the fact of the individuality and impenetrability of spirits renders it certain that they must have methods of both near and remote communication, and of carrying out their intentions analogous to those of man. C. a. " Moreover, it may" be here pertinently recalled as a further illustration of the nature of body and sense, and an independent proof of the original and generic difference between the human and the brute mind, that each takes on a body necessarily, according to its nature. b. The formative force of the body is the informing spirit ; and what the informing spirit is, that will the evolved body be. No one spirit, therefore, can have the body of another. The foot thrust into the soft clay could as well leave the imprint of the hand, as the brute mind thrust into clay, or covered with clay, could give the body of a man. 55 434 AUTOLOGY. Spirit takes on form ; mind takes on instrumentalities, necessarily ; and every spirit and every mind its own form and its own instrumental- ities. c. The human spirit is such in its structure and intelligence as natu- rally to demand and to need the use of such a body as the human body is, and therefore it takes it on. The human will, heart, reason, and conscience, need the brain, the hand, the voice, the stature erect, the limbs and feet, the eye and the lip, the brow, the cheek, and the counte- nance of man ; and therefore they have them. It is the informing spirit, that, by reason of its own life and motion, takes on the outward form, organization, and instrumentality of the body. Were the human spirit less or more than it is, it would have a different body ; but being what it is, it necessarily gives itself the body it has. The spirit speaks and acts in all the organism of the body. d. Just so the brute mind takes on the brute body, because the whole life and force of the brute are exhausted and brought out in such a body. If the brute mind were more, the brute body would be more ; but the brute has no use for voice, hands, or expression of countenance, and therefore has them not. It would be a detriment to him to walk erect. A brute could not, therefore, be made human by giving him a human body. The brute is not a soul imprisoned in an inadequate or a disa- bling body, but has a body adapted to all the mind it has. e. The demonstration of this position is, that he now actually has a brute's body. To assert that if the* brute had a human body, he would be human, is altogether an assumption ; brute body is proof of brute nature, as human body is of the human mind ; for it is the mind that makes the body, not the body t*hat makes the mind. This ought to settle forever the question of generic difference, the difference in kind, not in degree, between brute and human nature : they are totally and generically different in mind as in body. /. The human body has a hand because the human mind. has wit and cunning which require a hand to execute their designs. The human throat has a voice, and has articulation, because man has thought to utter in words to other souls, in furtherance of the great ends of being. These are the forces that produce these bodily instruments, and that use them when they are produced. Brutes have no such mental and spir- itual force within, to produce such instruments of body, and no such intelligent end for which to use them without; and therefore they have them not. D. a. Thus body accretes o.r crystallizes around soul, and takes the shape of the soul. It matters not where the soul is, in this world or in the world to come, amongst flesh and blood, or amongst angels in the world of immortality ; the soul would take on a corresponding body. THE INTELLECT. 435 b. The elements of flesh and blood crystallize around the living soul in this world, and we have the soul as man in humanity. The elements of the immortal world crystallize around the soul which has left its earthly body, and we have souls as angels or immortals with what Paul calls spiritual bodies. And should the soul change again its location, and dwell in some other world beyond the immortal state into which it first enters after death, it might change its body again, leaving behind that which crystallized about it in eternity immediately after death, and taking on a new crystallization from the peculiar elements of the world to which it should go. This transition might not be by death ; doubt- less would not be with pain ; but would be a transfiguration such as Christ underwent on the mount. , E. a. Pertinent to this view of body and embodiment are the words of the philosophic Paul on the resurrection, 1 Cor. XV. 42, and onward. " So, also, is -the resurrection of the dead. It is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. There is a natural body, and there is a spiritual bod}''," as there are terrestrial bodies and celestial bodies; " howbeit that was not first which is spiritual, but that which is natural ; and after- ward that which is spiritual." Also at the 51st verse, " Behold, I show you a mystery : we shall not all sleep [i. e., die], but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump ; for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed ; for this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality." And then in 1 Thess. iv. 13, the same apostle says, " I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive, and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent [i. e., take precedence of] them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of .the archangel, and with the trump of God; and the dead in Christ shall rise first [i. e., go up with the Lord first] ; then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air; and so shall we ever be with the Lord." b. Paul here, as both a philosopher and an inspired apostle, gives the true theory of the nature of the body, and of the relation of the body to the soul, and of the resurrection of the dead; viz., that the true resur- rection of the body is simply a change of the mortal body into a spiritual body, like the transfiguration of Christ on the mount, and the change that his body underwent as he ascended from the slope of Olivet into heaven, for as flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, his 436 AUTOLOGY. body of necessity underwent the change, as he passed ont of sight, Gf which Paul in the above passage speaks. And just so the soul, on leaving the earthly or terrestrial body at death, may take on a celestial or a spiritual body, which immediately crystallizes about it in eternity. c. But if at the resurrection, as some hold, the souls of the departed come back to the earth and reassume earthly bodies before they finally ascend into heaven — that event may take place in this same way ; they may lay off their spiritual bodies and take on earthly bodies by growth, accretion, or crystallization, or otherwise, instead of gather- ing again the dust of the grave. Then as they reascend they would reassume their spiritual bodies; while the living would be "changed," ascending with them. d. Is it asked whether souls will identify and remember each other at the resurrection or in eternity ? The reply is, they most certainly will ; for individuals have their peculiarities from the soul, and not from the body — rather, it is the soul that gives the peculiarities of the body. Whatsoever crystallizes around any object always takes the shape of that object ; so the soul, when the body spiritual or the body terres- trial crystallizes around it, will show its own lineaments, traits, forms, and characteristics, and will of course be known in eternity after death, and on earth after the resurrection, by precisely the same char- acteristics b} 7 which it was known and identified when it first lived on the earth. This excepts all peculiarities that were merely accidental, and that grew out of immaturit}', or mutilation, or deformity, or de- fect. e. And still further, the genuineness and identity of the body resumed at the resurrection, as above described, will appear when we consider, first, that if the soul, having in it spirit, life, and force,. has power to grow a body upon itself, as the present living boify has power to grow a skin upon itself, then certainly the body taken on by the soul any- where must always be the same, modified only by local elements and circumstances. And secondly, if it be observed that the local elements entering into and forming the body in this world (the chief of which are oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, and nitrogen) are always the same, and are always present and available, then it will be readily seen that both the same forces in the soul and the same elements outside of the soul com- bine to form the insurrection bod} r , that formed the body at the first ; the identity of man's present and resurrection body is, therefore, not only practicable and certain, but does not require a regathering of the original body from the grave. While therefore the Anastasis or Resurrection of the New Testament may mean only living in a spiritual body beyond the grave, still the reunion of the soul with a human body, which is a favorite theory of some, is here provided for. THE INTELLECT. ■ 431 F. a. If it be asked why rational souls aro embodied at all, in any way, the reply is, first, that all body is either essentiahor local. Essen- tial body is that which inheres in being itseif, from the simple fact that it exists, and is a reality, and not a phantom. This essential body any entity whatever has, and has necessarily, always and everywhere. -It is the necessary objectivity and impenetrability that belong to, and make the realit3 r of, all being. b. But besides, and over and above this essential body, there is a local, contingent body, which is given by the place inhabited, and whose purpose is adaptation to that place and the facilitating of well-being in that place. c. Such is man's, human or earthly body ; it is his earthly tenement, machine, and vehicle, which accommodates him to his earthly condition, and facilitates his earthly well-being. This bod}' is not essential or necessary, but local and contingent, and may be, and must be, laid aside when it has served its purpose. G. a. If the question then be raised, " Why are rational souls em- bodied in earthly bodies ? " the reply is, that God embodied souls for the same reason that he created the worlds. God saw fit to manifest his wisdom and power in creating the physical universe. It was the good pleasure of God thus to embody and exhibit his wisdom and power. We infer, therefore, that wisdom and power, good will and benevolence, could best be manifested in this way. For the same reason rational souls are embodied ; viz., that they may be manifestations of God's wis-' dom, power, and good .will. b. Moreover, when God had made the physical universe, then it was needful that rational souls, who were to inhabit it, should have bodies adapted to their earthly habitation, and made of the same materials. c. And still further, as God's own wisdom and power could best be manifested by creating the physical universe, so, also, could man's soul be best housed, provided for, and manifested, by having an earthly body ; for in the body the soul takes phenomenal shape ; and in the body the soul lives a life, has a career, and fulfils a destiny. In the body, character becomes a form and fixture. Thoughts become things, and purposes become deeds. The soul is harnessed to human relations, and being and life become a manifested and tangible reality. II. a. If it be asked, " What is the use of a body ? " the reply is, that the body is man's citadel. It gives proprietorship, it gives property, it gives privacy and seclusion. The body gives the power of protection and acquisition. b. The body is man's castle, combining palace, legislature, cathedral, university, fort, arsenal, magazine, engine, and vehicle, with all ammuni- tion, arms, stores, implements, and apparatus, for thought and action of 438 AUTOLOGY. every kind ; as authority, law-giving, worship, education, defence, ac- quisition, engineering, communication, and transportation. c. In short, it is the place and the instrument for carrying out every purpose of the mind and every end of living ; and, the Creator being judge, it is the best place and the best instrument for the well-being and manifestation of the soul ; else would he not have embodied the soul. I. a. Moreover, not only use and advantage, not only good will and benevolence, are embodied, and facilitated by embodying the rational soul in an earthly body, but thereby the soul takes form, gives forth and manifests its form ; and form is the material of beauty : but beauty is the form that expresses an excellence. b. The soul, therefore, the most excellent thing that God has made, is embodied, that the highest excellence in the creation of God may be embodied, and thus that the highest beauty may exist. The original body of the original and unfallen soul, which God created in Paradise, was the highest possible model of beauty in the universe ; for it was the most perfect form expressing the most perfect excellence. SECT. III. THE UNION OF SOUL AND BODY. Article I. Does the consciousness give us absolute knowledge that the soul inhabits the body, and wields its senses and its members according to its own will ? a. To this interrogation it is replied, that we have the direct and absolute affirmation of the consciousness, first, for the independent exist- ence of the soul, and, secondly, for its inhabiting the body, and control- ling its senses and members. b. It must be borne in mind that we are still in the realms of Absolute Knowing ; and that, while the operations of the faculties, when the mind is complete, and acts as a whole through the senses and the cate- gories, give us only relative knowing, the operations of the reason and the consciousness, in constructing the mind and in forming categories, give us always absolute knowing ; and that, because the knower and the known are identical. c. We have already formed the mind, or { rather, discovered the facts J of its structure, and built them up as a coral island in the midst of the sea of being. All this was done by the consciousness, which gave us the facts of the soul's nature a'nd being by an absolute knowing. d. Upon these facts the reason formed its original, necessary, and universal ideas by an absolute knowing ; and from these ideas con- structed the universal and necessary categories of all being and knowing with the same absoluteness of knowledge ; and, lastly, converted these same ideas and categories into the basis of its faith in that which is unseen and distant, by the same act of absolute knowing. THE INTELLECT. 439 2. a. Coming', then, directly to the question, "Does the mind know that it has a body, and that it wields that body according to its will, by an absolute knowing ? ". We reply, that the mind does know absolutely that it is in a body, and that it wields it for its own purposes, and that by the same faculty by which it knows any other fact absolutely ; viz., the consciousness. b. But if the consciousness is able to affirm absolutely that the mind, or soul, has a body, and wields its senses and members at its will, must it not, of necessity, be identical with that body ? (for absolute knowing requires that the knower and the known be. identical). They certainly must have an identity; and this brings us to the point immediately before us ; viz., the union of the mind with the body. c. For the understanding of this union we have already prepared the way by the discussion in the preceding section on " Body and Embodiment." We are now ready to see how the union of soul and body is effected, and how the consciousness can affirm, by an absolute know- ing, that union ; for it is the consciousness itself that takes on body ; the consciousness is conscious that it is embodied, and that it uses and controls that body for its purposes. d. ' The consciousness having affirmed the soul's being, irrespective of the body, and whether the body exists or not, now affirms that it is within a body, and that that body is a part of itself. The consciousness affirms that the body is a vital growth upon the soul, a covering which is ever forming upon it, and is ever rising out of its own spirit, life, and force, as the skin grows upon the body ; and that the body springs as much and as necessarily from the life of the soul as the skin does from that "of the body. e. The consciousness affirms that the body is a part of the soul in the same way that the skin is a part of the body ; that is, the body is a part that grows upon the soul and out of its own life, and that wears off and is changed perpetually for a succeeding one. As the skin is worn off by attrition, and replaced by another from within, so the whole body may slough off from the soul, and be succeeded by another body, formed from within, which shall be adapted to the world which the soul inhabits. /. The consciousness affirms this : that while a body is always a necessary growth upon the mind, still this mortal body may be put off for a " spiritual body," as Paul says, at any time ; and that the change of the body does not imply the death of the soul, any more than the change of the skin implies the death of the body. g. Moreover, the affirmation of the consciousness as to the life of the soul, distinct from the body and independent of it, is confirmed by the 440 . AUTOLOGY. ' well-known physiological fact that the body actually changes all its particles regularly, and completes that change once in about seven years, so that the soul which has lived on the earth seventy years has actually changed its body ten times, and has its eleventh body. , h. Now, if the soul can live and maintain its identity through ten changes of body in this period of its earthly life, who shall say that any mere change of body is any proof of the death of the soul ? or that the apostle was wrong when he said, "We shall not all sleep [die], but we shall all be changed," — changed from an earthly to a spiritual body. Who shall say that the eleventh change may not be the dropping of the whole body at once, which we call death, and the taking on of a spiritual body in another world ? Who shall say that a body may not grow out of and on to the soul in another world, just as it grew out of and on to the soul in this world ? i. But here we have to do with present consciousness only, and the one question is, " What does present consciousness affirm ? " We reply, that the consciousness in the mature man, after having affirmed that it is itself an essential element of the soul, and that it, with the other ele- ments, constitutes the soul an entity, having spirit, life, and force, inde- pendent of the body, affirms also the following facts : — Article II. a. The consciousness affirms the mind and body as distinct and united. 1. That the mind is embodied. 2. That it is inside, and has control of, a physical and material body, which has life and force. 3. That this body, while vitally connected with the mind, is yet dis- tinct from it. 4. That the soul has an existence of its own, having spirit, life, and force, and that it takes on the body as a habitation, protection, and an instrument of use, and as a phenomenal mode of existence. b. This consciousness of being embodied gives the body as a whole, and as a unity vitally connected with the soul as an overgrowth, and as permeated by the same life and activity, and held in the same conscious- ness with the soul ; so that there is a real unity and an actual identity of the soul and the body in one being, life, and consciousness. c. The mind is conscious that the body is its body, and that this body grows out of its nature and faculties, and is adapted to them. It is con- scious that its own impenetrability and individuality make it, necessarily, objective, and quantitative, and, of course, a body occupying space; and, then, that its own spirit, life, and force grow a body, are always putting forth a body, as trees grow a bark and leaves ; and that as the leaves THE INTELLECT. 441 and bark of one year fall and slough off, and the life of the tree is ever and unceasingly growing new bark and new leaves, and, in fact, new fibre of wood also, so the soul is ever growing a new body in all its parts. d. Thus is the soul identical with the body, not by reason of its being of the same nature, nor by reason of having always the same body, but by reason of its power and tendency to be perpetually grow- ing and taking on a body. e. We say "growing and taking on," in carrying out the figure; but we do not affirm by what means the soul takes on body, whether by growth, acc'retion, or crystallization : yet we see no difficulty in either ; for, as the soul has in it all three of the elements of being, viz., spirit, life, and force, it has in it the power of taking on body of any kind as •a matter of growth, because animal life has only the two elements of life and force, and no spirit, and it has the animal body ; andinanimate nature has only force, with no life and no spirit, and yet it exists in the bodily 'form of material nature. /. If, therefore, life and force may produce the animal body in the animal world, and mere force has body in the inanimate world, why may they not in the mental world, where they exist with spirit or soul ? The soul of man has, then, by virtue of the life and force that are in it, power to grow a body upon itself. g. And this is the fact ; the soul has power to grow, accrete, or crystallize a human body around itself by virtue of the properties which are in it ; for it has in itself all the properties of anim'al nature, and inanimate nature also, besides being a spirit. Spirit nature has in it, not only spirit, but also life and force ; it can, therefore, accommodate itself to the forms of both brute life and inanimate nature. h. Thus the soul is conscious of its own embodiment ; and the con- sciousness asserts, with the certainty of absolute knowledge, that the soul has a body and lives within it, and controls and wields its members and senses for its own purposes. Article III. The mind has a Spipjto-sensuous Consciousness of its bodily system. The soul is minutely conscious of its bodily coverings ; and the consciousness affirms each of them distinctly as a part of its covering, and a part of the machinery which it manages and employs for its own purposes. 1. a. In the first instance, the soul is conscious that it exists within, and has next to itself, and under its first and immediate control, the nerves. While the consciousness affirms the soul's being as distinct and independent, it also affirms that the first outgrowth, accretion, or crystallization, which it takes on, and with which it covers itself, is that of the nerves, or the whole nervous system. This system consists of 56 442 AUTOLOGY. the brain, -the spinal cord, the ganglia, and the conduits of motion and sensation. b. It affirms, also, that by this subtile and spirit-like material, it lays hold on all the other parts, organs; members, machinery, and imple- ments of the body, and thereby sends out action or receives sensation, and thus is in sympathy with all, or holds control over them all. c. The soul is conscious, not that it is the nerves, or that the nerves are it ; but it is conscious that it takes on the nerves, either b} r growth, accretion, or crystallization, as its first covering ; and that its own spirit, life, and force have a unity of action and an identity of consciousness with them ; and that upon the nerves, and in harmony with them and around them, all the other parts and systems of the body are formed by growth, accretion, or crystallization.. d. The nerves reach out, as a matter' of consciousness, to all parts, organs, members, senses, and extremities of the body ; and, by means ' of them, the mind controls and manages all joints, bones, muscles, mem- bers, and senses of the body, and uses them for its purposes. e. That the soul is thus within a nervous system, all minds are con- scious, and some are most painfully aware ; and that this nervous sys-. tern is the immediate covering and instrument of the mind by which it operates and controls all the rest of the body, all minds are also fully conscious ; and as the nervous system is a growth, accretion, or crystal- lization upon the soul's own conscious being, there is, of course, a unity of consciousness between the soul and the nervous system ; so that the x consciousness, in affirming it, is self-conscious ; and if self-conscious, then the knower and the known are identical, and the knowing is abso- lute knowing. . /. Thus the embodiment of the soul in nerves, or the ongrowth, ac- cretion, or crystallization of the nerves upon the naked soul, forms, by the union and blending of soul and nerves, a spirito-sensuous conscious- ness which lays hold of the soul on the one side, and of the body on the other. This consciousness is both spiritual and sensuous, mental and bodily ; uniting and unifying, combining and identifying, the soul and body in one consciousness and in one being. g. This spirito-sensuous consciousness, growing out from the soul through the atmosphere and rays of nerves, becomes the spirito-sensu- ous mould of the soul, upon which the body is formed, or taken on, by growth, accretion, or crystallization. The rays of nerves go out from the brain, spinal cord, and ganglia, to all the organs, members, and parts of the body, reaching to the surface and the extremities at every point ; and thus they give out from the mind itself, by an involuntary sympathy, or schematism, the nature and form of the body. h. These same nerves, which seem to be formative, or schematizing, THE INTELLECT. . 443 in the constructing of the body, are also the electrical wires for carrying- volitions from the will to the senses and members, and for 'carrying sen- 'sations back from the extremities to the mind. With this spirito-sen- suous consciousness as a formative principle, the mind proceeds to take on additional parts and forms of embodiment ; viz., — 2. a. The second fact of the soul's embodiment which the spirito-sen- suous consciousness gives is that of Nutrition. All persons are con- scious of hunger and the appetite for food, and of the sustenance which food gives to the body and the mind. b. All the different systems of the body receive sustenance from the nutritive system, consisting of the stomach together with the masticatory and digestive organs. This system of nutrition is taken on for the sus- tentation of the nervous system already existing, and for that of all the rest of the body; and, as such, it is a distinct matter of consciousness, and is absolutely known. 3. a. The third fact which the spirito-sensuous consciousness gives of the embodiment of the mind is that of Palpitation and Pulsation of the heart and the blood-vessels, called the pulsatory or circulatory sys- tem. This system- acts in furtherance of the ends of nutrition, and does the work of distributing the nutritive and vital fluid over the whole body, to all its parts, organs, and members. b. Of this system and its operations all persons are distinctly con- scious ; and the consciousness affirms its existence with an absolute knowing, as it is a growth, or accretion, on the nervous and nutritive systems already existing, — all of which are held in the same unity with the soul, and are affirmed with the same identical consciousness, and are, therefore, absolutely known. 4. a. The fourth fact given by the spirito-sensuous consciousness of the embodiment of the soul is that of Respiration, or the respiratory system, consisting of the lungs, the windpipe, and the nostrils. Of no fact are we more conscious than of this. It gives us our vital breath ; and its suppression, for a moment, gives the acute and distressing pain of suffocation, while its cessation would be death. The soul itself takes its name from respiration, and is called spirit, or breath. b. The respiratory system also operates, in connection with the nutri- tive system and pulsatory or circulatory system, in support of the body; for its office is to purify the blood which the heart sends through it, by contact with the air which it inhales, that it may the better serve the ends of nutrition. c. The consciousness gives the respiratory system as a growth, or accretion, upon the preceding systems, and as held by it with them in a unity of consciousness, and, of course, as known absolutely. 5. a. The fifth fact of the embodiment of the mind, given by the 444 v AUTOLOGY. spirito-sensuous consciousness, is that of the Reproductive System, by which the human race is perpetuated in existence. b. Paternity and the relation of fathers and mothers to children, with all their provisions, form too large a portion of human experience and life, and enter too much into the joys and sorrows of the world, to need any specific discussion or setting forth in this place ; yet it should be observed, that though the mind and the body are totally distinct and diverse in their nature, in this world they never exist apart ; and though the mind is spirit, life, and force, while the body is nothing but mere force ; though the body is material, and the soul is spiritual ; and though they are totally and eternally distinct, the soul ever being im- material spirit, while the body is matter, and purely material in all re- spects ; — yet have they their beginning and growth in the self-same process, organism, and time. c. All human beings had a beginning. That the human race had a beginning, and is not self-existent, is demonstrable from the fact that all self-exiiitent beings must exist necessarily ; and if necessarily, then they exist perpetually, for the same reason that they exist at all ; but the human i^ace can, in the exercise of its own freedom, be exterminated by war and suicide ; therefore it is not self-existent. d. Moreover we have a more sure proof that the human race had a beginning from the fact that each human being except the first (which was created by God) had i^3 beginning in the free will and intent of human parents. In the exercise of this intent in accordance with their physical condition, parents produce, in the first instance, a mind, or soul, a naked soul, having in it the three original elements of spirit, life, and force, and being constituted, or made up, of an embryo will, affections, intellect, and conscience. e. With this mind, or soul, produced by the intent of human parents according to the conditions of physical life, there is produced, also, by the same identical process, the germ of the human body with which the soul is inseparably blended in the same original form, and with which it embodies itself; i. e., the embryo soul embodies itself in the embryo body, and both grow together to maturity. To whatever elements modern science may be able, by anatomy or chemistry, to reduce human life, and how much soever it may seek to find a common basis for all forms of living beings, and no matter whether that basis be called protine, blastema, pro- toplasm, or simply germ or seed, nor whether it be found to exist in egg, organ, .nucleus, tissue, sac, or cell, yet the fact must ever stand out con- fessed, and never be forgotten, that nothing but human beings can be the parents of human beings, and that the original and first parents of the human race were and could be created only by a personal and Almighty God. The distinction remains eternal and indestructible that the nature TIIE INTELLECT. 445 of man (no matter what it may be called) contains in its elemental state spirit life and force ; while that of animals and plants have only life and force, and no development can ever make them spirit. 6. a. The sixth fact of the embodiment of the mind given by the spirito-sensuous consciousness is that of the Osseous System. This com- prises the whole framework of the body with all its bones, cartilages, and joints. b. Of the possession of this bony structure and this jointed machine, we have the fullest consciousness ; and as all the preceding systems are< ongrowths upon one another and on the nervous system, by which they are all penetrated, so is this osseous system a growth upon them all ; for over all of them it builds a framework for protection and use. c. The nervous system has its chief masses in the skull and the spinal column, the chest, shoulders, and pelvic bones, which enclose the vital organs of the nutritive, circulatory, respiratory, and reproductive sys- tems ; while the whole of them are provided with locomotion by the legs and feet, and with manipulation by the arms and hands. d. The consciousness here gives the unity of the mind with the osse- ous system, and affirms their existence and movements as identical : the self-same act of consciousness gives both. The whole osseous system is a growth, accretion, or other formation, upon the preceding systems, all of which grow upon the nervous system, which is the soul's first covering. The nervous system inhabits all other systems, as the soul inhabits it. t. a. The seventh fact of the embodiment of the soul given by the spirito-sensuous consciousness is that of the Muscular System. The muscles are the cords, covers, bandages, padding, and supports of the bones and joints of the osseous system. b. Of nothing is man more conscious than of his power over his own muscles and members ; and the members of the body, whether hand or foot, or any other member of the body, are all moved by the muscles. These muscles are controlled by the nerves going out from the brain. c. The consciousness of exerting nerve-power through the muscles and of their putting forth .voluntary action, achieving the ends of the will, is one of the most familiar and frequently occurring facts in the ex- periences of men. The soul. here shows perpetually both its connection with and its power over, and its existence as distinct from, the body and all its organizations. d. In nothing does the consciousness more clearly and absolutely affirm the soul as an agent acting behind the body, than when, through nerves, it reaches muscles, and through muscles, moves joints, and bones, and members, and, through them all, performs and achieves the intents of the will. 446 AUTOLOGY. e. Here the consciousness asserts, and by experience exemplifies, the soul as distiuct from the body, the soul as master of the body, the soul as free in its action through the body, and the soul, at the same time, as united with the body, as being identical in one and the. same conscious- ness with the body. f. Here soul and body show at once their unity and their distinct- ness, their severalty and their identity ; and thus do we know, by the absolute knowing of a self-affirming consciousness, the being and unity, the distinctness and identity, of the soul and the body, and that the soul inhabits and rules the body. 8. a. The eighth fact of embodiment given by the spiri to-sensuous consciousness is that of the Cutaneous System, by which the whole body is enveloped in one covering of skin, and adorned and trimmed with hair and nails. At the surface of the body there is acute sensa- tion, though shielded by the cutaneous formation. b. The consciousness is perpetually conscious of this outer covering, with all its delicate texture and sensibility, as the last and most beauti- ful over-robe of the soul, binding all in one complete whole, unit} 7 ', and life. c. Here embodiment is complete. Here the soul has its perfect cov- ering, habitation, vehicle, engine, and home. It lacks yet only the senses. By eight successive accretions the soul comes to its perfect embodied state. These successive accretions are each and all affirmed by the consciousness, and by it identified with the soul itself ; so that, in affirming them, the affirmer and the affirmed, the knower and the known, are identical, and the knowing is, consequently, absolute knowing. d. By means of these several accretions upon the soul there is formed a spirito-sensuous consciousness, which is both spiritual and sen- suous, mental and bodily, united and unified, combined and identified in one knowing and one individual. e. These spirito-sensuous consciousnesses, as already given at length, are as follows : — 1. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Nervous System. 2. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Nutritive System. 3. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Pulsatory System. 4. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Respiratory System. 5. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Reproductive System. 6. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of an Osseous System. 7. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Muscular System. 8. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Cutaneous System. THE INTELLECT. 447 /. By all tiiese successive spirito-sensuous consciousnesses the soul makes and affirms its union and identity with the body. They take cognizance of facts within the body, and reach back into the soul. g. These spirito-sensuous consciousnesses are so many ligaments that bind the soul and body together ; they are so many bridges that span the gulf between matter and the mind ; theyare so many electrical cur- rents that pass under the sea, connecting the continents of being from beneath; and they are so many rainbow arches joining them together through the heavens above ; thus uniting soul and body, matter and the mind, in one consciousness, and in one being and life. • . Article IV. The soul not material, nor the body spiritual. a. Let no one say that the foregoing positions make the soul mate- rial, or the body spiritual ; for it fixes the eternal distinction, and differ- ence, and individuality of each ; yet it binds and unites them both in one identical being and living. b. Let it here be distinctly noted that the power of the soul to take on a material body does not make the soul material, any more than the power of man to build himself a house makes him material. c. Let it also be noted that the adaptedness of matter to become the body, or covering, of the spirit, does not make matter spirit, any more than brick and mortar become spirit, because of their adaptedness to become, or to be made into, a habitation for man. cl. But, on the other hand, let it be observed that spirit and matter, soul and body, are adapted to each other, and that it is the nature of the soul to take on body, as we have seen, either by growth, or accre- tion, or crystallization, or in some other way. e. And further, the soul, as a fact, has a body ; and the body, as a fact, has a soul ; and as a fact, these two are bound together and made identical by consciousness — a consciousness -which is spirito-sensuous, and which lays hold on both spirit and matter, and blends them into one identity of being, by means of all the systems of sensation, of vitality, and of force, that make up the human body. /. Let it be strictly noted that this union of soul and body is a fact in consciousness and in experience ; and that the fact does not make the soul material, nor the body spiritual ; and that, therefore, to say that the soul naturally takes on body, and that body grows, accretes, or crystallizes, or in some other way forms itself upon the soul, naturally, always and everywhere, is not to make the soul material, nor to make the body spiritual. 448 AUTOLOGY. Article V. Having thus completed the several systems by which the soul builds upon itself the tower of the body, we now come, in the last place to erect upon it the observatory of the senses. 1. a. The first sense, and the foundation sense, of the embodied soul, is that of Physical Resistance. It is given by the body, as a whole, by means of its essential impenetrability. b. It is because the human mind and body have an individuality, reality, and impenetrability, which must, of necessity, occupy its own place in space, and its own period in time, and because no other object can occupy the same space at the same time, that it is possible for it to distinguish the sensation of the moment from itself on the one hand, and from the external object on the other ; and this is physical resistance, or impenetrability, and is, not only the first of the senses, but is the sense without which no other sense Can be the means of distinguishing any external object, or be able to lead to any knowledge of an external world. c. The office of physical resistance, therefore, is, manifestly, to give us the reality and impenetrability, and, consequently, the substance of ex- ternal objects. This having been clone, they are before the mind for closer inspection by the other senses. The office of physical resistance is to give the substance, while that of the other senses is to give the quality, of objects. 2. a. The second sense is that of Touch. This begins what are called "the Five Senses," or the senses proper; yet the sense of phys- ical resistance is of the same character, giving the reality and substance of things, while the remaining sense's give the qualities of things ; and must of necessity, therefore, be received, not only as one of the senses, but as the first. b. But, after the sense of physical resistance has given the knowledge of the reality and impenetrability of an object, then the soul, having covered itself with nerves, and having covered those nerves with organs, and bones, and muscles, and skin, comes to the surface in sensuous con- sciousness through those nerves at the points of the senses. c. All the senses are points of spirito-sensuous consciousness on the surface of the body, as in the hand, the tongue, the nostril, the ear, the eye, where the nerves protrude and are not covered with other matter. d. The five senses are all based on the sense of physical resistance, and are a part of it. They, consequently, make a twofold affirmation in each sensation. They, of necessity, affirm the substance, as well as the quality of objects ; for they, as a part of the one whole of the individual, who, by impenetrability, has affirmed the substance of objects, have still the consciousness of that impenetrable substance of objects, the quality of which it is their especial office to give. THE INTELLECT. 449 e. Moreover, the quality of an object is as real as its substance, and as objective ; hence the sense affirms both the real objectivity and the subjective sensation of the quality of an object. The sense of touch, therefore, being a part of the original sense of ph} r sical resistance, as well as a specialty in itself, affirms the existence of an outer world; i. e., it affirms that it touches something, and that it is not merely conscious of a sensation. /. It affirms itself, or the self, as conscious of its own distinct and separate individuality ; and then it affirms that it touches an external thing. The basis of all sense-perception is the essential impenetrability of the perceiver, standing as a first fact affirmed by the consciousness, in physical resistance. g. This being done and settled, the soul, through the nerves that form the organs of touch, comes into contact with external objects, and affirms the facts which it meets as real and objective ; and it affirms, not simply that something external is (for this physical resistance has already done), but that that something is hard, soft, smooth, rough, long, short, round, square, crooked, straight, cold, hot, pointed, or blunt, &c, &c. h. Thus touch affirms qualities or properties in material objects as its peculiar office ; yet this knowledge can never be affirmed until the me and the not-me, subjectivity and objectivity, are first affirmed by physical resistance. 3. a. The third sense is that of Taste. In this sense the soul rises to the surface by means of the nerves which line the palate, and there comes into contact with sapidity of food and other objects. b. This sense is a spirito-sensuous consciousness, which, having its basis in physical resistance, and being a part of it, affirms, first, the existence of the mind and the body, and then the sensation of sweet, sour, or other flavor which an object produces on the palate. c. Taste affirms thus the me and the not-me, and then the taste of the not-me. This taste of the not-me is a quality of it ; and this quality has an objective reality just as much as substance has ; and the spirito- sensuous consciousness affirms both the sensation of taste and the object tasted as distinct entities. . 4. a. The fourth sense is that of Smell. This sense, like all others, is based on that of physical resistance, and is a part of it. By means of the nerve protruding through and lining the inner coating of the nostrils, the spirito-senuous consciousness affirms the reality and impene- trability of the self, and the reality of the odorous object before it. b. The odorous object consists of particles in the air : the source whence these odorous particles come, is, of course, known only by observation. The sense of smell thus affirms the odor before it, as a 57 450 AUTOLOGY. quality or thing distinct from the sensation of smell, of which it is conscious. It affirms the objectivity of the quality, and the subjectivity of the sensation. 5. o. The fifth sense is that of Hearing. The sense of hearing 1 , like all the other senses, rests upon the basis of the general sense of physical resistance, and is a part of it. 6. In hearing, the spirito-sensuous consciousness affirms the impene- trability of the person who hears, and the actual objectivity of the object heard. The object heard is the undulations of the air ; the thing which causes these undulations is known only by experience. The conscious- ness affirms the resonant quality as objective and real, and the sensation of that quality as subjective and real, and always distinguishes between the objective resonant quality and the subjective sensation of it. 6. a. The sixth sense is that of Seeing. In this sense the nerves protrude to the surface in a most wonderful and delicate manner in the formation and structure of the eye. b. The sold by the spirito-sensuous consciousness of sight takes cog- nizance of external objects, with which it is brought into contact by the rays of light proceeding from them. The sense of sight being, like all the other senses, a part of physical resistance, and based upon it, -affirms the existence and impenetrability of the self, or person, whose sense it is ; so that the person is conscious that it is his eye that sees, and his seeing that sees ; it then affirms the presence of the luminous object before it. v. The cause of the light can be known only as a matter of experiment and obseiwation ; but the fact of the presence of light in different degrees and forms is affirmed as distinct from the mere sensation of light in the eye. d. The sense of sight, like the other senses, affirms quality ; but quality has a reality as much as substance has a reality. Hence the senses all affirm the real objectivity of the qualities which they sensate, as well as the subjectivity of the sensation with which they sensate them. The sensation is within ; the quality is without. Article VI. Executive Organs. a. After the various systems of embodiment are complete, with all their organs and all their members, and after the senses are complete, with all their curious, exquisite, and wonderful contrivances, there seems still to be needed some sort of executive apparatus for bringing the whole body into actual objective action. This is supplied bj^ the addi- tion of three distinct members, or organs, which, in view of their office, we call executive organs. THE INTELLECT. 451 b. Those three organs stand so much alone that they have not been treated elsewhere as parts of general systems, and are as follows : the Organs of Locomotion ; the Organs of Manipulation ; the Organs of Vocalization. These organs are muscular and voluntary. Their chief office is, walk- ing, working, and speaking, in carrying - out the intents of the mind. They have separate offices, yet all work together for the same end. They are all alike under the control of the will, through the nerves. The Organs of Locomotion. These are made up of the lower extremities ; viz., the feet and legs, with all their bones, joints, cords, and muscles. The office of these organs is the support and transportation of the body, according to the dictates of the will, giving man an erect posture, with countenance look- ing upward, with motion of grace and bearing of authority, as lord of this lower world. The Manipulatory Organs. a. These consist of the hands and the arms, with all the joints, bones, cords, muscles, fingers, and nails. The human hand is altogether human, and almost divine. It is the physical instrument of almost all mother wit and useful inventions; so that "sleight of hand," "handiwork," and dexterity and adroitness, have become the synonymes of all shrewdness and sagacity. b. By means of the hand, more than by any other organ, does man make good the assertion of his sway over nature, and get the mastery of her forces. By the cunning of his ten fingers and his supple wrist does man carve out, execute, and embody the inventions of his mind, and carry out and perform the intents of his will ; and he is master of all things, not more by what his brain can think than by what his hand can skill to do. The Vocal Organs. a. The chief organ of speech is the larynx, although in speaking other organs are employed ; as a whole, the apparatus of speech and vocal utterance consists of the lungs, the larynx, the cavity of the mouth, the tongue, the teeth, and the lips. The larynx, however, is the especial organ of articulate sound and language, and as such is one of the most peculiar and wonderful organs 'of the human body, one of the most curious instruments of the mind, altogether sui generis. b. Speech is the chief form of human expression, and one which man alone possesses. The modes of expression may be divided into two general forms; viz.: The first form of expression is that of attitude, 452 AUTOLOGY. gesture, and the movements of the face, and symbolic and written signs. The second is (1.) that of inarticulate sounds, as of joy and fear, weep- ing and laughter, &c. ; (2.) Articulate sounds, as in spoken language; (3.) Music, which is a combination of both articulate and inarticulate sounds in harmonious numbers. c. A part of the first general mode of expression, as attitude, ges- ture, and facial movement, and a part of the second, as sounds of joy, fear, and singing, man has in common with beasts and birds ; but the making of symbolic and phonetic signs, as in emblems, in written lan- guage, and in music, and the making of articulate sounds, as in spoken language, are the prerogative of man alone. d. .For inventing symbols, and emblems, and musical signs, man alone has reason ; for writing, he has the human hand, most wonderful in its mechanism and cunning; for oral speech and articulated language, man alone has the larynx, which, with the palate, the tongue, and the teeth, constitutes the organs of articulation, and the physical apparatus of speech. e. This physical apparatus for speaking is all that demands our atten- tion here as a part of the body and bodily organs peculiar to man. It is because man has a soul first that he has a body at all ; and it is be- cause he has facts, thoughts, and ideas to express, that he has the gift of speech and the organs of articulation with which to express them. He has a hand to write, because he has the thoughts of a rational soul to express in writing. f. Brutes have no use for hands or voice ; they have no thoughts to express, and therefore have not these physical and bodily organs with which to express them. Thus is man distinct from the brute both in body and in mind ; and he is distinct in body for the reason that he is distinct in mind. The organs of articulation are one of man's most' peculiar and characteristic bodily endowments, as the power of express- ing his thoughts and wishes in written language and in oral speech is one of his divinest gifts as a rational soul in the image of God. This completes the work of the Consciousness in giving the facul- ties of the mind and the organs of the body. We here 'Subjoin a schedule of the Sense, including the successive systems of the body, the senses, and the executive organs. I. Bodily Systems. 1. The Nervous System. 2. The Nutritive System. 3. The Pulsatory System. 4. The Respiratory System. 5. The Reproductive System. 6. The Osseous System. 7. The Muscular System. 8. The Cutaneous System. TUE INTELLECT. 453 II. The 1. Physical Resistance. 2. The Sense of Touch. 3. The Sense of Taste. 4. The Sense of Smell. 5. The Sense of Hearing. . 6. The Sense of Sight. III. The Executive Organs. 1. The Locomotive Organs. 2. The Manipulatory Organs. 3. The Vocal Organs. SECT. IV. THE RELATION OF THE SENSE TO KNOWING. A. The Relation of the Body to Mental Manifestation. a. We have shown the body to be the necessary mode of the soul's manifestation ; that the body is the soul's embodiment; and that its various parts and members show the soul's nature' and power, and that through them it achieves its purposes. Some of the members of the body are under the control of the will ; some are involuntary, and act neces- sarily. The mind employs the various voluntary members of the body for their appropriate purposes ; the stomach for nutriment, the feet for locomotion, the hands for work, the head for thought, and the senses as modes of communication between the mind within and the world without ; while the heart, and the lungs, and the digestive organs move on regardless of the action of the will. b. The body and the head, the countenance and the general make and bearing of the body, express and represent the mind. The brain, large and well adjusted, and accompanied by a good nervous and vital system, and a good body generally, and with good surroundings, ought to indi- cate, and usually does indicate, great mental power. It is true, as a rule, that a good physical organism throughout covers a good mind. c. The relation of the brain to the mind is well known, and certain conformations are well understood ; so, also, the relation of large lungs, a healthy stomach, a stout frame, and firm muscles, to the mind, is well known ; the relation of a nervous temperament to mental activity is well known ; but science is yet in its infancy in regard to these things. The plrysiologists have done something towards showing the relation of Serves and other systems of the body to the mind, and the phrenologists have done something, and physiognomy has done a little. d. The subject is important, as it bears on the great question of the relation of the mind to its body and to all matter ; and especially as it bears on health, physical development, and meutal education. As com- parative mental development depends on bodily organization, health, and perfectness, so, also, that suppressing and dwarfing of the mental facul- 454 AUTOLOGY. ties which we call idiocy, depend en the body, and especially the brain and nerves, and the physical system generally. e. Idiocy is occasioned by malformation of the brain and body. This shows the vast importance of knowing and regarding physical organism and the relation of body and brain, and health, to the mind. f. The same is also true in reference to insanity ; though insanity, as to its cause, comes under the head of diseased affections rather than of defective or malformed intellectual faculties. The subject of insanity has, therefore, been treated under the head of the affections, as idiocy is here named under the head of the body. B. What is perceived by means of the Sense? a. The reply to this is, that by physical resistance. we perceive the substance of objects, and by the five senses we perceive the qualities of objects. By seeing, the intellect sensates form, color, and motion of a distant object. By hearing, we sensate the sound of the motion of an object, whether inanimate, animate, or rational, of which we may, or may not, know the existence by any other sense. By touch, we sensate both the form and the motion, or vibration, of an object within reach. By smell, the odor of an object is known. By taste, the flavor of an object upon the tongue and palate is made known. b. These are all necessary forms of intelligence, by which alone the reason can come into contact with the various aspects of an object, and by which an object, in its own various aspects, is brought before the reason for cognition. Now, the sensation of each particular sense gives a 'modified perception ; though perception does not depend on sensa- tion, but on physical contact, and exists before sensation takes place, or can take place, yet each of the five senses gives a modified per- ception. c. Perception by means of the senses contains both a contact and a sensation. These, united, afford the means of a perception of an exter- nal object, by which that object is not known, but simply brought be- fore the reason for cognition. The senses bring diverse objects before the reason, and enable it to perceive and cognize both the quantity and quality of objects ; while mere physical resistance has only contact, and hence can bring before the reason nothing but the impenetrability, or the substance, of the object. d. Thus have we a sensuous apparatus, by means of which the rea- son can perceive the whole of an object, and not simply a part of it. We may make both the substance and the qualities of an object matters of a sensuous, and experimental, and tangible knowledge. . We per- ceive substances, as we do qualities, by sensuous contact and objective experiment. THE INTELLECT. 455 e. The reason cognizes substance, just as it cognizes quantity and qualities; viz., by applying its ideas to it, and by interpreting that which physical resistance brings before it, with an idea already pos- sessed, just as it interprets that which the five senses bring before it. /. The reason perceives substance by physical resistance as truly, directly, and really, as it does quality by the five senses ; indeed, more so ; for it cannot perceive quality until it has first perceived substance, because the only way of showing that those sensations which denote qualities are not the mere illusions of a sensation which may be entirely subjective, is by showing that physical resistance has, by its mere con- tact, without any sensation, given us, in the first instance, substance, as a substantial and impenetrable essence.; and that, then, the object being thus before the mind and in the grasp of the sense, the five senses may, by their five varied sensations, perceive its qualities, and present them to the reason for cognition. But should all impenetrability of physical objects, as given by physical resistance, be shown to be illusory, still the respective self-consciousnesses of two minds, or spirits, each affirming and enclosing itself and excluding the other, would prove the reality of substance and the impenetrability of objects, and set it beyond all pos- sible dispute. C. May there be more than five Senses? a. Why there should be five senses, we can well see ; but why there should be no more, is not so obvious. That we have no sense for perceiving spirits we know ; but whether, to perceive them, we need a new sense, or only a quickening, or sharpening, or enlarging of one or all of those we now. have, Ave cannot tell ; if, however, the notions of body and of embodying above given be correct, then it would seem that no new sense would be needed, but only a modification of those now possessed. We have already shown that the same phys- ical resistance which demonstrates to human beings that they mu- tually exist and have a separate and distinct individuality, presence, and reality, would also, if they were disembodied, show to them mutu- ally the existence, distinct individuality, presence, and reality of their souls. Indeed, the only reason why contact and physical resistance does not now reveal and demonstrate soul to soul, is the fact that the body is in the way. Why, then, may not the same senses which we now have exist in a modified form in the disembodied soul, and serve its purposes in eternity? Obviously souls unembodied, i. e., souls with spiritual bodies, must have means of communicating with other souls analogous to those possessed in this world. The necessity of organs analogous to those of the senses of the human body inheres in the very nature of individual being itself, and is inseparable from it. Separate 456 AUTOLOGY. souls must have the means of mutual intercommunication, and those means must be analogous to human senses. b. We now have no means of knowing the presence or person of any spirit but that of the Holy Ghost ; and that we know only as he manifests himself through the truth to our consciousness by means of the reason, conscience, and the affections. In what way God as a spirit may manifest himself to our senses as our Creator and the Creator of the universe, we shall hereafter see. The Intellect is now complete, having attained all its facts, all its fac- ulties, and all its ideas, as well as all its bodily organs, all its senses, and all its categories of knowing. As a knowing faculty, therefore, com- posed of Consciousness, Reason, and Sense, it is now fully armed, able to wield the categories of the reason and the organs and members of the body in the exploration of the universe and in the search for knowl- edge. We are now ready for going forth into the outer world in the ex- ercise of all the faculties of the mind and senses of the body in relative knowing. THE INTELLECT. 457 DIVISION III. RELATIVE KNOWING. CHAPTER I. THE NATURE OP RELATIVE KNOWING. SECT. I. THE DISCRIMINATION AND USE OF RELATIVE KNOWING. a. Having now completed the work of absolute knowing, we come to the field of relative knowing 1 . Absolute knowing we have found to be that knowing in which the knower and the known are identical ; consequently the field of absolute knowing is the faculties themselves that know absolutely ; viz., the consciousness and the reason. b. Hitherto we have been working deep down in the caverns of the soul with the faculties of consciousness and reason. We have followed the processes of the mind's formation and development, the origination of its being and faculties. We have marked the first knowings of the consciousness, giving the primary facts of being. We have noted the first comprehendings of the reason as it formed its ideas out of the facts of consciousness, and have explored the depths of the mind. We have seen how the mind is formed, how it educates itself, and supplies itself with absolute knowledge ; and we have seen that all the knowledge thus far has been obtained by the consciousness and the reason, and is absolute knowing. c. The consciousness and the reason have known facts and ideas ab- solutely, and facts and ideas that were absolute things ; such as self- consciousness, reason, liberty, and all necessary facts, relations, and ideas. And now, rising from these sub-sensuous depths, and having formed to itself the skyward and earthward windows of the senses, the reason looks out upon the outer world, which it now seeks to know. Heretofore, the knowing has been sub-sensuous and absolute ; hereafter, it will be through and by means of sense, and will be relative knowing. In absolute knowing, we cognize subjective facts by the consciousness, and form ideas and categories by the reason. In relative knowing, we 58 458 AUTOLOGY. know by means of the senses and the categories ; i. e., by means of the categories we cognize the objects which the senses present to us. d. It will be remembered that absolute knowing takes place when the knower and the known are identical, and is hence confined to the mind's knowing itself. Relative knowing occurs when the knower and the known are diverse ; and hence all knowing of objects other than the mind itself is relative knowing. e. The mind qualifies itself for knowing the world, external to itself, by absolute knowing ; but it actually knows the external world by relative knowing. The reason, which has hitherto been smelting facts and moulding them into ideas, and forming them into categories deep down in the internal forge and laboratory of the soul, is now provided with all the facts, faculties, ideas, and categories, and all the members and senses of the body, and is ready to go forth into the outer world to explore its terri- tories, to ascertain its facts, and to possess itself 'of all knowledge in respect to it. /. By the knowledge of the knowable which it has already attained, as ideas and categories, through absolute knowing, the Reason will now enter upon its work of relative knowing, and will acquaint itself with all things external to it. It will do this through the sense, by the following operations; viz., believing, perceiving, cognizing, remembering, conceiv- ing, abstracting, generalizing, classifying, ratiocinating, rhetorizing, theorizing, inventing, imagining, embodying, enhancing, perfecting, fancying, or depreciating, theologizing, and legislating. SECT. II. THE RELATION OF THE OPERATION OF THE REASON, IN RELATIVE KNOWING, TO THE AFFECTIONS. a. All action of the human mind springs from the original and primor- dial element of essential activity. This enters into the self and will, as we have seen, and then develops into the affections. This is the principle of life, and in a loose way is often called " self-love," "the first law of nature." We call it, in its centre and essence, "essential activity," or " life force ; " and it is, in all its modifications, that which gives the in- terest to act and the force to do something. It is thus the essential life force of the soul, and, in all its forms and developments, is that which impels us to action, and gives us force to achieve ; hence all our impulses to know, and all our interest to know, arise from this essential activity of life force in some of its modifications. b. We may not be able to give precisely the impulse to each act or operation of cognition, but to some of them the impulse is very obvious and definite, because the act and object of such operation of the reason THE INTELLECT. 459 is very definite and distinct, while other operations of the reason are of a very general nature, and, of course, can be assigned to only a general impulse. Yet to all operations of the reason there is some sort of im- pulse, and one that is homogeneous with the operation itself. The essen- tial activity was in itself sufficient to give the basis of the power of choice, but for further action it becomes developed into the affections, as we have seen, and it is with reference to the several classes of these affec- tions, in a particular or general way, that these operations are put forth. c. These operations go forth in reference to the several classes of the affections with more or less directness, and report to them. For in- stance, perceiving, cognizing, conceiving, classifying, remembering, and ratiocinating go forth into action by means of the essential activity, but report themselves and their doings to the individual affections for the most part. But rhetorizing, theorizing, and inventing, while they are impelled by the essential activity of the mind, report chiefly to the social, patriotic, and philanthropic affections ; and imagining, embodying, enhancing, perfecting, fancying, or depreciating, acting also from the origi- nal and essential activity, report their doings naturally to the sesthetical affections. Theologizing goes forward as an operation of the reason from the essential activity, but reports its doings to the religious affec- tions ; and, lastly, legislating is impelled by the original activity of the mind, but is reported to the ethical susceptibility; i. e., the conscience. SECT. III. WHAT AEE THE COMPARATIVE CERTAINTY AND RELI- ABLENESS OF RELATIVE KNOWING AND ABSOLUTE KNOWING? a. Having thus sufficiently examined the field of absolute knowing, and that as a means of educating and qualifying the mind to know relatively, we now come out to the field of relative knowing, which is the whole universe external to the being and faculties of man. b. Here we find that the terms absolute and relative apply, not to being, but to knowing; and hence absolute being may be known rela- tively, while relative being may be known absolutely. We shall find that while some absolute facts, relations, and ideas come under the head, or within the field, of absolute knowing, yet the absolute God comes within the field of relative knowing ; for absolute knowing is confined to those things in which the knower and the known are identical, while all else comes under the head of relative knowing ; the former being the office of the consciousness and the reason alone, while the latter requires also the faculty of the sense. c. The answer to the question, " What are the comparative certainty and reliableness of relative knowing and absolute knowing ? " will re- quire the consideration of three things, viz. : — 460 AUTOLOGY. I. What is the ultimate ground of all reality, or the ultimate ground of the certainty of all knowledge. II. What is the ground of the reliableness of the categories by which the objects of sense are cognized. III. What is the proof of the reality of the objectivity of the objects of sense. I. What is the ultimate ground of all reality, or of the certainty of all knowledge ? a. The human mind is not capable of knowing anything with greater certainty than it knows itself. Self-knowing, therefore, or self-conscious- ness, must be the ultimate ground and standard of all reality and of the certainty of all knowledge. In self-knowing, the knower and the known are identical ; but the knowing in which the knower and the known are identical is absolute knowing ; therefore self-knowing is absolute know- ing. Self-knowing is, then, the ground and guaranty of the certainty of absolute knowing. b. But, since self-knowing is the ground of the certainty of all know- ing, it must follow that whatever is known by means of self-knowing must be as certainly known as the self is known ; and this is the case in relative knowing ; for while in absolute knowing the knower and the known are identical, in relative knowing, the knowing of the object is identical with the knowing of ourselves ; the first is an identity of being, the second is an identity of knowing. The certainty of absolute know- ing lies in the identity of the being of the knower and the known ; the certainty of relative knowing lies in the identity of the knowing of the external object with our self-knowing. c. It may here be observed that all the faculties are of supreme authority in their respective spheres. The faculties of the intellect are the consciousness and the reason with the sense. Each is the ultimate authority in its own department. As the consciousness is ultimate in the department of facts, so is the reason in that of ideas. Neither of them admits of any proof. The sense is only an appendage of the reason and consciousness, and rests on the same ultimate basis for certainty that they do. d. All attempts, therefore, to prove the reliableness of the conscious- ness by the consciousness, or of the reason by the reason, are simply bringing a man's own testimony to prove his own veracity ; each is ulti- mate and supreme in its own department. e. There is, however, confirmation in supporting the testimony of one faculty by the testimony of another when both testify to the same thing, and both are admitted to be competent and credible witnesses in their respective departments. And this is the case with the conscious- THE INTELLECT. 461 ness and the reason. They each know absolutely in their respective spheres. The consciousness knows primary facts absolutely, and the reason knows original ideas and categories absolutely, because, in each case respectively, the kuower and the known are identical. /. If, then, these two kinds of knowing could be combined in one, that one knowing would partake of the certainty of both ; for instance, if the consciousness should affirm, with an absolute knowing, that a par- ticular fact is, and the reason should affirm, with an absolute certainty, that the. same fact must be, we should thereby have two witnesses to the same fact, giving double certainty, provided always that these two witnesses had an established reputation for truth and veracity, for com- petence and credibility, beforehand. g. But if they had not this established character beforehand, the agreement of their testimony would be worth no more than that of any other two incompetent and incredible witnesses on any other subject ; hence we cannot go back of the simple affirmations of the consciousness and of the reason in their respective capacities for the certainty of our knowledge. h. How the mind can begin to know, is one of the fundamental ques- tions of this book, and of all mental science. We have shown that all knowing must begin in the essential intelligence, or consciousness ; this, therefore, is the ultimate ground of all certainty in knowledge. We have shown that all ideas are formed from facts of consciousness ; and hence, while the reason is ultimate in its sphere, and the truth that its ideas are real ideas is established by its own .absolute knowing,' yet that its ideas are ideas of real things is ascertainable only by show- ing a fact of consciousness out of which each one is formed, and upon which each one is based. i. So also the sense, which is an appendage of the consciousness and the reason, affirms a real resistance and a real sensation ; but the proof that such resistance and sensation are the resistance and sensation of real objective things, rests for its ultimate certainty on the fact of a self-conscious impenetrability within, which has been already ascertained and established by the self-consciousness as first existing. j. This self-consciousness is the ultimate and only ground of the cer- tainty of all knowledge. Thus my own self-consciousness affirms my own personality, and this irrespective of any external world. I, with my own individuality and impenetrability, am, in the next instance, con- scious of a collision with the external object; I am conscious of colliding with and of being collided with by an external object. k. But is it still said that this consciousness of collision is all merely subjective, and cannot, therefore, assure us of the existence and reality of an external object ? To this it is replied, that this act of collision, which 462 AUTOLOGY. gives me the consciousness of an external object, is the same that gives me the consciousness of myself as colliding and being collided with. If, therefore, the consciousness of an external object, which 1 thus experi- ence, is fallacious, then must the consciousness of colliding* and being collided with, which I experience, be also fallacious ; for it is occasioned by the same collision, at the same time. I. I am as strongly and clearly conscious of the one as of the other, nor do I ever have the one without the other ; the self-same collision always gives both. And this experience, too, be it observed, is not that which gives me the consciousness of my own individuality at the first. That is given alone originally, without reference to any being but my- self; it is the affirmation of spontaneous consciousness. m. But this consciousness of colliding and being collided with is the affirmation that my original self-consciousness receives a contusion from without ; and this consciousness that I am a self must first exist before I can be conscious of such a contusion. It is therefore demonstrated that the affirmation of the reality of external things by the consciousness is reliable, and not fallacious. n. In relative knowing we have the affirmation of the sense to facts, and we have the reason, by its ideas and categories, comprehending and interpreting those facts : the two combined give us relative knowledge ; and that knowledge has the testimony of both the sense and the reason to its truth. o. The reason then falls back upon the original facts of consciousness as the proof that its ideas are the ideas of real things, and that real things actually exist. Thus all proof of reality lies in the consciousness as its ultimate basis. Relative knowing is, therefore, just ascertain and reliable as absolute knowing, as it is confirmed by absolute knowing in both its forms. II. What is the ground of the reliableness of the categories by which the objects of sense are cognized ? a. The answer to this question will be made obvious when we recall what has been so often shown ; viz. : — (1.) That all relative knowing is interpretative; i. e., a translation from one language into another, or that it is explanatory, or a proving, showing the meaning of the unknown by the known. (2.) That the ideas of the reason formed from the facts of conscious- ness are the language into which the objects in the field of relative knowing are to be translated, or the known things by which they are to be explained, the known figures by which they, as the unknown x which represents them, are \p become known and definite quantities. b. Now, the knowing by which the facts of consciousness and the THE INTELLECT. 463 ideas and categories of the reason are known, is absolute knowing ; that is, the reason is educated and qualified by an absolute knowing- of the facts of consciousness and the ideas of the reason, to translate the ob- jects in the field of relative knowing- into the language used, known, and vernacular in the field of absolute knowing: so that, while the operation of knowing by which the reason knows the objects in the field of relative knowing (i. e., all the universe external to itself) is relative knowing, the knowing by which it was qualified to exercise relative knowing was absolute knowing ; and the known things by which the reason is able to explain the unknown are absolutely known — absolute knowledges. c. Hence, as already shown, there must first be absolute knowing before there can be an} r relative knowing; and there must be known things already possessed before we can know unknown things. Now, these known things, which it is first necessary to possess in order to know unknown things, are not only absolute knowings, but they are the original known quantities and known language of the soul, and of all souls, and of all angels, and of God, necessary and universal ; and they are known absolutely ; and with these already in possession, the reason is qualified and able to know relatively everywhere. d. Then, as to the nature and comparative certainty of this relative knowing, we see that it is only an exercise of the faculties and qualifica- tions of absolute knowing, and that, of necessity, it is just as certain, reliable, and true, as they are — no more and no less. e. Relative knowing is only the exercise of the reason, employing the facts which the consciousness has given it by an absolute knowing, and the ideas and categories which itself has formed, by an absolute know- ing, from those facts, in cognizing facts external to itself. If, therefore, it cognizes at all, it does so by the exercise and use of absolute knowl- edge; therefore, not only the certainty, but the very existence, of relative knowing depends on absolute knowing, and partakes of its nature. Rel- ative knowing is necessarily just as certain as absolute knowing. f. The man who would translate English into German must needs know both languages, 'and his translation would be just as correct as was his knowledge of the two languages, and just as reliable. So the reason, in translating the objects external to it, lying out in the field of relative knowing, must know both languages ; that is, the language of absolute knowing and that of relative knowing, the language of the internal world and that of the external ; this it has already learned by an ab- solute knowing. g. The consciousness has already given it facts, so that it knows facts. The reason has already comprehended those facts, and thus given to itself ideas and categories ; and thus it has already both languages; viz., 464 AUTOLOGY. the language of the soul and the language of sense — of the inner and the outer world — the language of facts and of ideas. h. With these it goes forth into the outer world, and cognizes all its objects with a relative knowing by the knowledge which it has attained by an absolute knowing ; and hence it is manifest that the same cer- tainty, the same truth, and the same reliableness, attach to relative knowing that belong to absolute knowing ; for relative knowing is but absolute knowing in the exercise of the facts, faculties, ideas, and cate- gories, which it knows absolutely. III. What is the proof of the reality of the objectivity of the objects of sense ? a. The knowledge by which the reason translates the findings of the sense being thus shown to be absolute knowledge, and thus to be a guaranty for the certainty and reliableness of relative knowing, the next point to be secured is the absolute certainty and reality of the objectivity of the objects sensated by the sense. b. The sense has two departments : (1.) Physical resistance, whose office it is to know the actual presence of substances by means of their impenetrability, and (2.) the five senses, whose office it is to know the presence, and to distinguish the nature, of qualities. (1.) a. Physical resistance is the same as impenetrability; i. e., it is impenetrability that gives us the power of physical resistance. We have the knowledge of our own impenetrability, in the first instance, by force of our own spontaneous consciousness without the contact of any external object. The soul thus knows itself as an object^ and as having a place in the objective world. b. But the knowledge of my own impenetrability, which is given to me from within, is not enough to give me a knowledge of the impene- trability of an object without, unless there be contact also of my own internal impenetrability with the impenetrability of the object without. c. It is thus by means of the consciousness of my own impenetrability within, derived not alone from my own consciousness within, but given and forced upon me by contact with the impenetrability of an object from without, that I have the knowledge of the presence and impene- trability of an object without, and external to, and distinct from, myself. d. When, therefore, the soul, which is first conscious of its own im- penetrability from within, so comes into contact with an external object as to find its own impenetrability resisted, it then and therebj' comes to a knowledge of the impenetrability of the external object ; and let it be observed that the collision by which the soul finds its own impenetrabil- ity, or physical resistance, resisted, is the self-same collision that gives it the knowledge of the impenetrability of the external object. THE INTELLECT. 465 e. Let it be observed also that there could be no consciousness of an external impenetrability without first being possessed of the consciousness of an internal impenetrability; but, having this conscious impenetrability first, we, by means of it, infringe upon, and collrde with, an objective impenetrability, and detect, and distinguish, and affirm its existence as a reality. The same collision, therefore, that gives me the knowledge of the impenetrability of an external object, gives me the knowledge of the impenetrability of myself; and it, consequently, gives me the knowledge of the external thing as certainly and as reliably as it gives me the knowledge of myself. f. Let it be noted further, that, in knowing or being conscious of an external object, I am conscious of three things : first, I am conscious of myself; second, I am conscious of the external object ; and third, I am conscious that I am conscious of them. Thus all is embraced in one act of the faculty of consciousness, by which it affirms both itself and them; and, of course, all are known with equal certainty ; viz., the certainty with which I know my own existence. g. Relative knowing is absolutely certain, because thereby absolute knowing demonstrates itself; i. e., in absolute knowing, the knower and the known are identical, and the impenetrability of an individual is self- affirmed ; but in relative knowing, the impenetrability of the individual demonstrates its own reality, which is already known by self-conscious- ness, by impinging upon, and colliding with, the impenetrability of an- other individual. When the object collided with, and impinged, is another person, who feels his own impenetrability collided with, then the two persons can make mutual recognition of their respective impene- trabilities ; but when the object collided with is not a person, but a thing, then the proof of its objectivity, impenetrability, and reality, is the fact that the collision with it reaffirms my own impenetrability, which I knew before by the absolute knowing of my own consciousness. h. If I had not known my own impenetrability and reality by the ab- solute knowing of my own consciousness beforehand, then the conscious- ness (if it could have existed) of collision with an external object could not have proved to me that an external object really exists apart from myself; but when I first know by an independent knowing, a knowing that is absolute in its nature and certainty, that I actually do exist, and am actually impenetrable, then does the consciousness of impinging upon an external object actually prove the existence, objectivity, and reality of that object, and demonstrate also my own individuality, impenetrabil- ity, and reality. Hence, in this act of knowing, my own self-conscious impenetrability demonstrates itself; and, by demonstrating the reality of itself, it demonstrates the reality of an external object. i. In this act, therefore, so far as my own conscious impenetrability .59 466 AUTOLOGY. demonstrates itself, the knower and the known are identical, and the knowing is absolute ; but so far as my own conscious impenetrability, by colliding with an exterior object, demonstrates the objectivity and reality of that object, the knower and the known are diverse, and the knowing is, consequently, relative knowing. But inasmuch as this ab- solute knowing and this relative knowing are produced by the same act of the mind, — i.e., inasmuch as my own conscious impenetrability affirms, or rather reaffirms, by collision, its own reality, and, by the' same collision, affirms the reality of the exterior object, — the knowing of the latter is just as certain as the knowing of the former ; for it is through, and by means of, reaffirming the known reality of myself that I am able to affirm, in the first instance, the reality of an external object. j. The knowing, however, by which the mind's own reality is. af- firmed, is absolute knowing, because knower and known are identical ; but the knowing, by which the reality of the external object is affirmed, is relative knowing, because the knower and the known are diverse ; yet both knowings have the same absolute certainty. k. Each of the five senses is a part of the first sense of physical re- sistance, and is based upon it ; and, consequently, each sense affirms, — first, the real impenetrability of the person ; second, the real objectivity of the quality sensated ; and third, the subjectivity of the sensation itself: thus all its affirmations are based on absolute certainty. The fact that external objects are actually before the mind is thus affirmed absolutely. I. Having thus an absolute knowledge of the categories by which external facts are translated and relatively known, and having thus ab- solute knowledge (knowledge resting on evidence absolutely known) of the actual presence of external objects, the mind is prepared to cog- nize external objects by a relative knowledge which has all the certainty of absolute knowledge. (See Section IV., on the Sense.) SECT. IV. WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ABSOLUTE KNOW- ING AND KNOWING THE ABSOLUTE ? a. In answer, it maybe said that absolute knowing is the same every- where, and is, always and everywhere, simply self-knowing ; i. e., we know absolutely only when the knower and the known are identical. Hence an absolute which is subjective to the mind may be known by absolute knowing ; while an objective absolute must, if .known at all, be known by a relative knowing. b. If, in absolute knowing, the knower and the known are identical, and if, in relative knowing, the object known must always be present, and if the knowing that is exercised iu the absence of the object is only THE INTELLECT. 467 believing 1 , the question arises, How can we know the Absolute ? Can we know it at all. In absolute knowing we know only the subjective ; in relative knowing we know only the phenomenal. How, then, can we know the absolute ? Is the absolute phenomenal ? c. To this it is replied, that all things, both those which Kant calls noumena (i. e., essence, substance, cause, self, will, spirit), and phe- nomena (i. e., things that appear and are tangible to the senses), are alike phenomenal in their respective spheres. A noumenon is phenome- nal to a noumenon in the world of noumena, just as a phenomenon is phenomenal to a phenomenon in the world of phenomena; i. e., a soul is phenomenal to a soul in the world of souls, or a spirit to a spirit in the world of spirits ; just so a cause is phenomenal to a cause, and a substance to a substance, and an essence to an essence. But the question is, Are noumena phenomenal in the world of sense or phenomena? The answer is, that noumena are phenomenal in the world of sense or phenomena only when they produce or embody themselves in qualities and effects. This being the case, we can know the absolute, not abso- lutel}', but with absolute certainty, by means of relative knowing. But this raises the question, What is the Absolute ? d. To this it is answered, that there is no such thing in existence as " the Absolute " in the sense of one whole, and universal, and necessary existence ; but, on the contrary, there are many absolute things in the universe ; viz., there are absolute facts, and absolute relations, and ab- solute ideas, which we know absolutely. e. So, also, is there the absolute person, God ; he is an absolute God, and the great first and central fact of all facts. God's absolute- ness consists in his perfectnessof personal being ; perfectly infinite and infinitely perfect; perfect in perfections; absolutely infinite and infi- nitely absolute, with no defects ; a pCrfectness of perfections, and not of imperfections ; a full-orbed sphere of positive perfections, with no evils, no negations, in it. This God is absolute in almightiness, holi- ness, wisdom, and love ; the first and the last, the beginning and the end ; simply perfect and holy in all things, and imperfect and wrong iu nothing ; and this is the only absolute and ultimate in the uni- verse. f. There is not, and cannot be, an absolute that lies back of God, as the common source of God, nature, and man, as Hegel, Comte, and Spencer hold ; but God's own person as free, affectional, rational, and ethical,- is the one absolute God. He is not what is called " the abso- lute," nor the infinite, including God, man, and nature as one whole. The terms the absolute, the infinite, thus used, are pantheistic terms, and mean nothing. If there were anything in the universe corresponding to that supposed " one whole," which is called "the infinite," it would 468 AUTOLOGY. not be infinite, but only finite. There is, however, nothing in the uni- verse corresponding to it. The absolute God is the only absolute, and he is a person, and as such is cognizable by the human faculties. g. Now, as to knowing the absolute, it may be said, that in knowing absolutely we necessarily know something which is absolute ; for abso- lute knowing is itself an absolute thing ; hence absolute knowing and knowing that which is absolute are in this case identical. The same is true in regard to all the primitive facts of consciousness, and in regard to all the original ideas of the reason ; for, in knowing them, we not only know absolutely, but we know things which are absolute ; for there arc many things that are absolute, though God is the only abso- lute person. h. Liberty is an absolute thing. Justice is an absolute thing. Ho- liness is an absolute thing. A circle is an absolute thing. A square is a*n absolute thing. A cube is an absolute thing. A sphere is an abso- lute thing. The absolute is simply the perfect in anything which is capable of perfection. Christ was a perfect man, and God is a perfect God, and both are absolute ; for all perfection is absolute. i. The difference between knowing the absolute and absolute knowing is, in most cases, precisely the same as the difference between relative knowing and absolute knowing. We have already seen that the ulti- mate ground of all reality and of the certainty of all knowledge is self-knowing, or self-consciousness, and that, in thus knowing our- selves, we know absolutely ; for the knower and the known are iden- tical. j. Man thus knows himself absolutely ; but to know ourselves is to know the evidence that proves the being of God ; therefore the con- sciousness that gives me the knowledge of myself gives me the evi- dence of the being of God. But this knowing of myself is absolute knowing ; therefore I know with an absolute knowing that which is the proof of the being of God. Furthermore, to know absolutely the abso- lute proof of the being of God is to know with absolute certainty that God is. k. I thus know the proof of God's being by an absolute knowing ; but I know the being of God by only a relative knowing. Yet, as the absolute knowing is absolutely certain, so is the relative knowing abso- lutely certain ; for it is built upon it, and derives its being and possibility from it. I. In other words, we know absolutely when we know ourselves ; and we know the absolute God with absolute >cer.tain.ty when we know ourselves as the free, affectional, rational and ethical, and personal effect in which God, as a free, affectional, rational and ethical, and personal au- thor, or cause, embodies himself; that is, we know God's being with abso- THE INTELLECT. 469 lute certainty when wo know our own being absolutely, as the absolute evidence of his existence. m. But the direct answer to this question is this : man's being is the absolute evidence of the existence of God as his author and creator ; and the absolute evidence of the existence of a thing must be essentially connected with the being of that thing, so that this evidence could not exist without the existence of that thing which is its cause. The con- nection between the absolute evidence of the existence of a thing and that thing, is a necessary connection ; so that while the thing might exist without the evidence, yet the evidence, when once it does exjst, demands, necessarily, the existence of the thing of which it is the evi- dence, as it cannot exist without it. In the case of necessary cause, this connection would bind the cause to the effect as necessarily as it did the effect to the cause ; but in the case of a free and personal cause, it binds the effect, if it exists, to the cause by a necessary connection ; yet it does not make it necessary that the cause should produce the effect. The cause may exist and forbear to produce any effect ; but when the effect does exist, then it necessitates the existence of the cause. n. But man is the. absolute evidence that proves absolutely the being of God ; therefore man, in knowing himself absolutely, knows abso- lutely the absolute evidence that proves the being of God. But to know absolutely the absolute evidence that proves the being of a thing is to know with absolute certainty that that thing' exists ; hence, to know absolutely the absolute evidence that proves the being of God is to know God's being with absolute certainty. o. The ground of this absolute certainty of our knowing that God exists lies in the fact that we ourselves, being the absolute evidence of the existence of God, ( are thereby enabled to affirm the being of God with the same certainty with which we can affirm our own existence. p. The difference between absolute knowing and knowing the abso- lute, therefore, consists in this : in absolute knowing I know myself as a free, affectional, rational, ethical soul. This knowing is absolute, be- cause the knower and the known are identical. In knowing the absolute God, my reason cognizes myself, by means of the category of causes, as the free, affectional, rational, ethical, and personal effect of which the free, affectional, rational, ethical, and personal God alone can be the cause. This is the relative knowing, because the knower and the known are diverse, and because, by the act of knowing, I use the category, but do not make or discover the category, as in absolute knowing. q. Again, knowing the absolute God differs from absolute knowing also in this respect ; viz., in knowing God I cognize myself, my own free, affectional, rational, ethical, and personal self, by an act of my 410 AUTOLOGY. reason, as the phenomenal image of the free, affection al, rational, ethical, and personal spirit, God ; i. e., the phenomenal person in which God, by a free creative act of his own, has given the image of his own person. r. As a photograph is the image of the person who sat for it, and as there is an identity of likeness which is necessary between the counte- nance of the being, man, and his photograph, so there is a necessary identity of likeness between God the creator and cause, and man the created and the effect ; and in this image alone lies the proof that man gives of the being of God. The proof of God's being and the phenom- enal effect caused by God are, therefore, in this instance, the same object. Man, therefore, in knowing himself, knows the absolute proof of the being of God, and hence knows with absolute certainty that God exists. s. Thus man knows his God with the utmost possible certainty with which he is capable of knowing anything ; for he knows God with the same certainty with which he knows himself, not onty, but by means of the same object and the same act; viz., by knowing himself. To know one's self is, therefore, the very greatest of all knowings ; for thereby does man not only know himself, but he knows God also, knows him certainly, and by the only evidence by which he can be known. t. The obvious fact here is, that the objects of absolute knowing and relative knowing come to be identical, for the reason that effect and cause find their phenomenal representation in the same identical object. As man is both in the image of man and in the image of God, as he is both the embodiment of himself as effect and the image of God as Effect- or, he is at once the phenomenal object to be cognized, and the original and necessary idea, or conception, with which that object is to be cog- nized ; so that, in thus knowing God, the mind knows both absolutely and relatively ; for it finds that, both in knowing the original ideas, or having knowledges of the knowable, and in cognizing the object by those ideas, the knower and the known are identical. Thus does man know God with double certainty, by both absolute and relative knowing. SECT. V. KANT'S ANALYTICAL AND SYNTHETICAL JUDGMENTS, OR KNOWINGS. a. Of the many fundamental errors of Kant it is necessary here to note only this one ; viz., the division of judgments, or knowings, into the two kinds of Analytical and Synthetical. It is a totally false and artificial division, and one that is mischievous in all its results. There can be no such division in nature ; for all judgments, or knowings, are, of necessity, analytical knowings. b. Analytical knowing takes place when the whole object known is within the grasp of the knowing faculties ; while synthetical knowing, THE INTELLECT. 471 according to Kant, takes place when the objects known are not within the grasp of the knowing faculties. c. But it may here be pertinently asked, What kind of knowing is that whose objects are not within the grasp of the faculties that know ? Mani- festly, it is no knowing at all. Such a supposed knowing may be a theorizing, or a believing, but it cannot be a knowing at all. Kant him- self conges to this conclusion in the end, and thereby decides that it is not possible for the human mind to know that it is a soul, or that it has a God. d. This division of judgments, or knowings, into analytical and syn- thetical, is an error into which Kant's system necessarily drove him. The great original sin and primal error of Kant — an error which perverted his whole system — was this; viz., he denied the distinct and separate existence of the consciousness as a faculty- of the mind ; he confounded its functions with those of the sense, and then substituted the internal sense in its place. e. Thus he took away all possibility of knowing the existence of the soul or God from the human mind ; indeed, he took away all possibility of knowing or of beginning to know anything whatever from the mind ; yet he was well aware that the mind did claim to know both the soul and God. He was therefore compelled to find some method of accounting for this seeming to know, as he regarded it. Hence he was driven to invent the distinction between analytical and synthetical judgments. /. By the former he designed to cover all that we can actually know ; and by the latter, to cover all that we only seem to know, or think we know. But the distinction is false and pernicious, as is the error that made it necessary. g. Synthetical judgments, or knowings, were, in Kant's view, noth- ing but theorizings, and theorizings, too, which could never be verified by facts. He regarded the reason, therefore, as a mere regulative fac- ulty, and its ideas as mere regulative principles. He thus made our highest knowings a mere seeming and mockery, and our highest intel- lectual faculty a falsifier of the truth. This error necessarily followed the denial of the true nature and office of the consciousness as a separate and original faculty ; for without it the reason could have no facts with- out and before the senses, to work upon in the first instance, in the formation of ideas. Synthetical knowing is thus, clearly, no knowing at all ; and thus, even according to Kant, all knowing that is knowing at all is necessarily analytical knowing. h. This supposed synthetical knowing, or judging, of Kant, is analo- gous to believing. Believing is a synthetical act, though it is not au act of knowing, but only of believing. Believing rests on absolute knowing, while it believes in the objects of relative .knowing. Believing 472 AUTOLOGY. differs from cognizing in this way ; viz., the reason cognizes those ex- ternal objects whose reality it believes in by means of the ideas on which that belief rests ; but it cannot so cognize those external objects until the sense has brought them before it. Believing is, therefore, a synthet- ical act, but not an act of knowing, properly so called ; for to believe is not to know ; i. e., the reason believes in the absent objects of .the exter- nal world by means of the facts and ideas which it knows absolutely in the subjective, world ; but in order to know them they must be present to the sense or the consciousness ; therefore no act of knowing is, or can be, a synthetical act ; for it is not possible to know that which is not in some way, either as a fact of the consciousness, or as an idea of the reason, or as a phenomenon of the sense, before the mind. i. As a result of denying the nature and office of the consciousness, Kant fell necessarily into another great error; viz., that of denying the phenomenality, or perceptibility, of the soul by any of the faculties of the mind. By so doing, he denied the soul's reality, and that we can know anything at all. j. The error of denying the existence and office of the consciousness as a distinct faculty by which the being of the soul is affirmed, reduces all knowledge to the merest idealism, and all being, on the other hand, to the merest nihilism. • k. The error of denying that the soul of man has phenomenality to itself, i. e., has the capability of being perceived (i. e., of self-seeing and of being seen by other souls), is the same as denying that the soul has impenetrability ; but to deny that the soul has impenetrability is to deny that it has reality, and this, is, of course, to deny its existence altogether. Ilere we reach the bottom of the original sin of the phi- losophy of Locke, the scepticism of Hume, and the '•' critique " of Kant : they did not see the absolute knowing of the self-seeing consciousness and the self-comprehending reason, and hence called all our knowing mere relative knowing. I. This is the fundamental error also of Sir William Hamilton, and of all the Scotch school, which makes all their struggles to escape from atheism, and to prove the being of the soul and God, fruitless. Upon this same error of denying that the soul is self-seeing, and that two souls, as such, are mutually objective and phenomenal, and that thus both noumena and phenomena, substance and qualities, are known, is built the materialism of Compte, of Herbert Spencer, and of John Stuart Mill. The}' adopt avowedly the theory of Kant, Sir William Hamilton, and the Scotch school, and built their atheism legitimately upon it. m. On the other hand, the absolutists Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel reach the same result ; viz., that of denying the phenomenality, impene- trability, and individuality of the soul to itself, and to other souls, by start- THE INTELLECT. 473 ing from an opposite point, and making the soul and its processes every- thing. n. Locke, Ilume, Kant, and Sir W. Hamilton arrive at the nihilism of the soul and God by denying that the soul has impenetrability or phenomenality to itself, or to other souls, while Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel destroy the individuality, impenetrability, phenomenality, and consequent perceptibility and reality of the soul to itself or other souls by making it and its processes identical with, and the life force and whole reality of, the whole universe. In both cases the soul of man is extinguished, and with it all reality disappears, and one universal ideal- ism, or more properly nihilism, necessarily ensues. o. With regard to the kinds of knowing, the only true division is the one which we have given ; viz., that of absolute and relative knowing, the former taking place when the knower and the known are identical, the latter when they are diverse ; the former having subjective facts and ideas for its field of knowing, and the latter having all objects in the external world. p. Both absolute knowing and relative knowing are analytical. There is no such thing as synthetical knowing. That subjective facts and ideas may be known analytically is certain ; for it is obvious that they are entirely within the grasp of the knowing faculty, the knower and the known being identical ; and this is also absolute knowing. q. But in relative knowing the knower and the known are diverse, so that the knowing is, of course, not absolute knowing, but it is analytical knowing nevertheless ; for the object known, though not identical with the knower, is still within the grasp of the knowing faculties, and is. therefore analytically known, as all objects must, of necessity, be, that are known at all. It is thus manifest that both absolute and relative knowing are analytical knowing, and, consequently, that all knowing is, in its nature, necessarily analytical knowing, and, consequently, that Kant's division of knowings, or judgments, as he calls them, into analyt- ical and synthetical, is altogether false and artificial. 60 • 4U AUTOLOGY. DIVISION III. RELATIVE KNOWING. CHAPTER II. SOUL LANGUAGE AND SOUL IMPLEMENTS, OB THE DICTIONARY CATEGORIES AND INSTRUMENTS USED BY THE REASON IN RELATIVE KNOWING. a. The reason being 1 about to enter upon its journey of exploration and survey over the external world, it will be of advantage to gather up and furnish in one collection all the requisites for its journey and for its work. It will need the Categories as a guide-book, chart, and dictionary, and it will need the body, the senses, and the executive organs, as a case of instruments to facilitate its operations. b. With the latter — viz., the case of instruments — the reason will collide with, sensate, handle, and examine all external objects ; and with them it will also make its journeys over nature. With them it will be supplied as with an alpinstock, and shod as with ice-spurs, and fur- nished as with telescope, microscope, barometer, compass, quadrant, and chain, to measure and investigate the whole external world : while with the former, as with a dictionary of science, a guide-book of travel, a topographical and geological chart, a glossary of old words and in- scriptions, it will cognize, translate, and explain all things with which it comes in contact. For the sake of a clearer and more satisfactory intelligence, and of a better facility of both knowing and wielding the categories and instru- ments in relative knowing, we subjoin the following schedule : — TI1E INTELLECT. 475 SOUL LANGUAGE. L Categories formed from Elemen- tal Facts and Ideas. 1. Essential Activity. 2. Essential Intelligence. 3. Essential Self, or Individuality. 4. Essential Self-law. 5. Essential Liberty. 6. Essential Free Will. B. Categories formed from Univer- sal Facts and of Being. 7. Being. 8. Diversity. 9. Identity. 10. Resemblance. C. Categories formed from Causal Facts and, Ideas. 11. Cause. 12. Effect. 13. The Vital and Dynamical connec- tion between Cause and Effect. 14. The Vital and Dynamical Iden- tity of Cause and Effect. 15. Motion. 16. Number. 17. Time. D. Categories formed from the Fact and Idea of Substance. ' 18. Substance. 19. Quality. 20. Affections. 21. Intellect. 22. Conscience. 23. The Vital and Dynamical Rela- tion between Substance and Qualities. 24. The Vital and Dynamical Iden- tity of Substance and Qual- ities. E. Categories formed from Facts and Ideas of Vitality. 25. Action and Reaction. 26. Perpetual Identity of the Self. 27. Perpetual Reknowing of the Consciousness. F. Categories formed from the Facts and Ideas of Personality. 28. Free Cause. 29. Final Cause. 30. Complete Personality. G. Categories formed from Facts and Ideas of Objectivity. 31. Object. 32. Whole and Part. 33. Measure. 34. Space. 35. Impenetrability. 476 AUTOLOGY. H. Categories formed from the Facts and Ideas of the Different Kinds of Being*. 36. Spirit. 37. Life. 38. Force. 39. Matter. I. Categories formed from Facts and Ideas of Mode. 40. Mode. 41. The Actual. 42. The Possible. 43. The Necessary, J. Categories formed from JEstheti- cal Facts and Ideas. 44. The True. 45. The Sublime. 46. The Beautiful. 47. The Deformed and Ludicrous. K. Categories formed from Ethical Facts and Ideas. 48. The Eight. 49. A Eule of Duty. 50. Moral Obligation. L. Categories formed from Theistic Facts and Ideas. 51. A Personal Creator and God. II. SOUL INSTRUMENTS. THE SUCCESSIVE SYSTEMS OF. EMBODIMENT, THE FACULTIES OF THE SENSE, AND THE EXECUTIVE ORGANS OF THE BODY. A. Systems of Embodiment. 1. The Nervous System. 2. The Nutritive System. 3. The Pulsatory System. 4. The Respiratory System. 5. The Reproductive System. 6. The Osseous System. 7. The Muscular System. 8. The Cutaneous System. B. The Faculties of the Sense. 1. Physical Resistance. 2. The Sense of Touch. 3. The Sense of Taste. 4. The Sense of Smell. 5. The Sense of Hearing. 6. The Sense of Sight. C. The Executive Organs of the Body. 1. The Locomotive Organs. 2. The Manipulatory Organs. 3. The Vocal Organs. THE INTELLECT. 477 III. OPERATIONS OF KNOWING. a. The operations of knowing are divided into two classes ; viz., Ab- solute and Relative knowing. Absolute knowing has two operations ; viz. : — 1. Essential Self-seeing by the Consciousness. 2. Essential Self-comprehending by the Reason. By these two operations of absolute knowing, the mind is furnished with all the facts, ideas, categories, and instruments of the foregoing table. ,b. The Reason, armed by means of absolute knowing with the fore- going language and instruments, goes out over nature, and investigates it by means of the following, — Operations of Relative Knowing. 1. It Believes. 7. It Ratiocinates 2. It Perceives. 8. It Rhetorizes. 3. It Cognizes. 9. It Theorizes. 4, It Conceives. 10. It Invents. 5. It Remembers. 11. It Imagines. 6. It Abstracts, Generalizes, and 12. It Theologizes. Classifies. 13. It Legislates. 478 AUTOLOGY. DIVISION III. RELATIVE KNOWING. CHAPTER III. THE OPERATIONS OP THE REASON IN RELATIVE KNOWING. ART. I. THE REASON ACQUIRES EXTERNAL FACTS. SECT. I. THE EEASON BELIEVES. a. The first operation of the reason in relative knowing is believing ; i. e., the reason believes in the reality and truth of the original ideas and categories which it has formed, and that they are a true and reliable programme of the external world. b. This faith must exist, or no operation of relative knowing would take place ; for relative knowing is the application of the ideas and cat- egories of the reason to the facts of the sense, and the explaining and translating of the latter by the former. We must, therefore, believe in the truth and reliableness of the categories before we can act upon them ; and this leads us to the question, — A. What is Faith, and what is the difference between believing and knowing ? a. Faith as a feeling of confidence and as an affection has already been treated under the head of Trustfulness and the corresponding social affections in Part II. We here treat it as an operation of the reason. Faith, as an operation of the reason, recognizes and reposes upon the ideas which are absolutely known, and programmes and believes in the facts which are yet to be relatively known. This is the position, nature, and work of the reason in the operations of faith. It stands on the solid earth, and reaches to the skies. The rocks of absolute knowledge are its earth foundation, the distant stars in the heaven of relative knowing are the objects of its apprehension. We place faith at this point between ab- solute and relative knowing, because it recognizes and reposes upon the one, and believes in and presages the other ; and we call this act the first operation of the reason in relative knowing, because it does prefigure and THE INTELLECT. 4T9 forecast the unknown facts of the external world according to the scheme of the ideas of the reason, and so believes in their reality as actually tcf set about cognizing 1 them : when they are cognized faith is lost in knowl- edge. Faith differs from imagining in this; viz., faith simply programmes according to facts, while imagination perfects according to ideals; b. All knowing is either absolute knowing or relative knowing. Absolute knowing is that which takes place when the knower and the known are identical; relative knowing is that which takes place when the knower and the known are diverse. Moreover, absolute knowing is immediate, intuitive, and experimental, while relative knowing is reflec- tive, interpretative, and analytical. c. Furthermore, in all cases of knowing, whether absolute or relative, the object known must be present to the knower. In absolute knowing the knower and the known are identical, and, of course, the thiug known is present ; in relative knowing, while the knower and the known are diverse, yet the known must be presented by the senses, or it cannot be known. But believing, on the contrary, requires the absence of the thing believed in from both the reason and the sense. d. This, then, is the first broad distinction between knowing and be- lieving. While believing is not, strictly speaking, knowing at all, yet it, at least, requires an act of absolute knowing in order to its existence. All believing is based on something known, on the one hand, and it re- quires, with equal imperativeness, a something unknown, on the other. The facts and the ideas of absolute knowing are indispensable to faith, or believing ; these are its original and natural basis. e. When the consciousness has given the original facts of our being, and when the reason jias formed from them its original and necessary ideas and categories, then, without anything more, is the mind prepared to believe, to have faith ; for it has all the elements of universal being in its own consciousness and possession. /. But when the organs of sense are added to the mind, and when it is thus prepared for relative knowing, knowing the external world, and .when it actually perceives and cognizes external objects, and forms con- ceptions of them, then, with these conceptions in the mind, it is prepared to believe in the existence of external objects which are not present to the senses. This again brings us front to front to the question, B. What is the difference between relative knowing and believing ? a. We answer that believing, or faith, is the expectation that the facts of 'the sense will correspond to the ideas and categories of the reason. That faith becomes practical, and shows itself by works, when we actually set about interpreting the findings of the sense by the ideas and categories of the reason, and acting accordingly in the pursuits of life. 480 AUTOLOGY. b. The difference between believing and absolute knowing is obvious, as is that between relative knowing and absolute knowing ; for they both alike require and demand absolute knowing in order to their exist- ence. But the relation of believing to relative knowing needs further consideration. c. Relative knowing and believing are both operations of the reason, and hold the same relation to absolute knowing as their ground', means, and guaranty. We have already seen that, in order to have relative knowledge, we must first have knowledges of the knowable as ideas, or conceptions, already possessed by the reason, and that we must also have organs of sense to bring the mind into contact with external objects. These things existing, we are able to cognize the external object by means of the ideas in the mind. This it is to know with relative knowing. d. But in order to believe, we have no need of the presence of the objects which the organs of sense bring before us. The antecedent knowledges of the knowable of objects, whether as ideas formed from the facts of consciousness or as conceptions formed from facts of the sense, are sufficient to enable us to believe in the existence of the objects of sense without their presence. Indeed, the absence of the phenomenal or sensuous object is essential to the existence of faith ; for, if the object were present; it would not be faith, but knowledge. e. Kant has divided all knowing into analytical and synthetical know- ing ; in the former of which the object known is present to the knower, while in. the latter it is absent from the knower. But this is obviously a mistake, as all knowing requires the presence of the thing known. It is believing, and not knowing, which requires the absence of the thing believed, and which is, consequently, a synthetical act ; for it reaches out after that which is believed in, but absent. /. But, in order to make the nature of believing distinctly appear, we must recall the distinction between absolute knowing and relative knowing, and mark how believing is distinguished from each. In the first instance, the absolute knowing of the consciousness and the rea- son must first exist, giving us facts and ideas, before believing can be at all. • In the second place, phenomenal facts must be absent from the sense, or there can be no believing, — for, if believing were attempted without the presence of the absolute facts of the consciousness and of the ideas of the reason, it would not be believing, but illusion and fanat- icism ; and if, on the other hand, believing were attempted with the facts of the sense present, it would not be believing, but knowing; i. e., relative knowing. g. Believing', therefore, requires and uses the same original facts and ideas which cognizing or relative knowing uses ; but on the other hand, TIIE INTELLECT. 481 it does not require nor use the presence of the objective, the physical and sensuous facts which relative knowing or cognition requires. Thus believing requires the presence of the facts and the ideas of absolute knowing, and it requires the absence of the relative knowing of the facts believed in, in order to the existence of such belief. h. It is true that, after relative knowing has taken place and concep- tions of the objects of the external world have been formed and retained in the mind, then these conceptions themselves may become the grounds of belief in the existence of external objects ; but those objects must not be present to the senses, but must be absent in order to the exer- cise of faith in their existence ; for what we see actually present to our senses we know, and do not simply believe in. i. But here it should be carefully observed, that this retaining in the consciousness of the conceptions of those external things which are cognized by relative knowing, is an act of absolute knowing, as will be shown in the next section ; so that it is still true in every case that be- lieving requires the presence of absolute knowing and the absence of relative knowing, in order to its existence. j. We come, therefore, to this conclusion in reference to believing and relative knowing : First, they agree in this ; viz., that they are both relative. Believing, as well as cognizing, or relative knowing, requires, and is based upon, and, in every instance, refers to, absolute knowing, or some kind of knowing going before, just as relative knowing, or cog- nizing, refers to, and depends upon, absolute knowing, or some other knowing going before. k. It is therefore obvious that, precisely because we know something already, we are able to know something more ; so also are we able to believe in something because we already know something. We believe because we know, just as we cognize because we know something already with which to cognize. All believing, therefore, like all cog- nizing, is relative. In this respect believing and relative knowing, or cognizing, agree. I. Secondly, with regard to believing and relative knowing, we come to the conclusion that they differ in this : (1.) That all relative knowing is an analytical act of the mind ; (2.) All believing is a synthetical act of the mind; i. e., relative knowing analyzes that which is already in the mind both in the reason and in the sense, and interprets the latter by the former, in order to know ; while, on the other hand, believing conjoins, adds to, and synthesizes something external and absent with what is already in the mind, in order to believe. m. There is a generic and everlasting distinction between knowing and believing ; absolute knowing is simple, direct, immediate, and intui- tive ; relative knowing is analytical and interpretative ; while believing 61 482 AUTOLOGY. is always and necessarily synthetical, demanding the presence of abso- lute knowing and the absence of relative knowing ; for it is that which relative knowing would know, if it could be exercised, which believing synthesizes with (i. e., joins or connects with) the absolute knowing already in the mind. n. Kant's division of all knowing into analytical and synthetical, — the former taking place when the whole object is before the mind, and the latter when it is not, — may be thus illustrated, viz., "a horse is a quadruped." Here the object " horse " may be examined and the knowledge verified. But in synthetical cognition, according to Kant, the thing cognized is not immediately' before the mind, as when we cognize a cause in its effect. The effect alone is before us. We see the overflowing Nile, and say there has been rain on the mountains. The only thing before us is the flooded river ; we see nothing of the rain. o. Now, this inference, or conclusion, by which we say there has been rain upon the mountains, is a synthetical knowing; i.e., it joins to the thing actually known, which is present, a something absent as its cause ; i. e., it knows the cause in the effect. p. But this we have shown to be an error ; for an effect is always the phenomenal form of its cause, which is, therefore, always present, and thereby makes the knowing to be analytical, and not synthetical. The distinction, then, between analytical and synthetical knowing is a false distinction. Synthetical knowing, as Kant calls it, is-, prop- erly, not knowing at all, but believing. q. Kant failed altogether to note the difference between absolute knowing and relative knowing, and treated all knowing as if it were relative knowing, and then undertook to divide relative knowing into analytical and synthetical knowing ;" by which means he, as he supposed, drove the knowledge of God out of the pale of valid knowing ; for he rightly held that synthetical knowing is no knowing at all ; it cer- tainly is not knowing, but is believing. Yet believing is not the dreamy thing which might be supposed ; for believing requires the presence of all the facts, ideas, and conceptions of absolute knowing, and the ab- sence of all relative knowing. r. Yet let it be observed that believing has all the certainty of all the absolute knowings of the consciousness and the reason as its basis and its surety. The same original facts of consciousness, and the same universal and necessary ideas of the reason, that are the ground and means of all relative knowing of the objects of sense, together with the conceptions which the reason forms from external things, and which, by an absolute knowing, are held in the consciousness to be employed again in cognizing external objects, — these same facts, ideas, and con- ceptions, thus absolutely known and constituting the mind's sole means THE INTELLECT. 483 of translating and cognizing, or knowing relatively, the objects of sense, are also the basis, foundation, means, and guaranty of believing. Thus it appears that believing and relative knowing, faith and the knowledge of external objects, rest on precisely the same basis, and have the same warrant and guaranty of reliableness and truth. SECT. II. THE REASON PERCEIVES. A. What is Perception ? The second operation of the reason in relative knowing is that by which it collides and sensates, and thus comes into contact with external objects, and becomes aware of their prseence. This operation is per- formed by the reason through the medium of the sense, which it employs as its instrument. a. The discussion of this operation of the reason will therefore in- volve not only the question, What is perception ? but also the question, What is the office of the sense as employed by the reason in perceiving, in distinction from the act of the reason itself in perceiving ? b. Relative knowing is cognizing the external objects which are pre- sented by the sense, through the means of the categories of the reason. The sense, consequently, is emploj^ed first in relative knowing, and by means of it the reason perceives. c. The true nature and office of the sense will appear when we recall the four forms of consciousness in the human mind; viz.,' The first form of consciousness is that of essential intelligence as a formative principle in the substance, or essence, of the mind. The second form of consciousness is that of a knowing faculty, or a faculty of the intel- lect proper. The third form of the consciousness is that of a spirito- sensuous consciousness, in which it takes on body and is formative like the first. The fourth is the Sense, in which it is instrumental, and col- lides with and sensates external objects. Thus we have consciousness as a formative principle, as a knowing faculty, and as a spirito-sensuous consciousness, and as a sense instrument. d. In each of these capacities the consciousness is distinct as to field and function. The field of the first, viz., the essential intelligence, is among the primary elements of the mind, and its office is formative. The field of the second is' amongst the knowing faculties, or in the intel- lect proper, and its office is cognitive. In the third the office of con- sciousness is formative in taking on body, and in the fourth instrumental in colliding with and sensating objects in the external world. e. The first three of these, it will be seen, are entirely subjective fields, while the last is exclusively an objective field of action. It must be observed also that the first mode of consciousness (the essential 484 AUTOLOGY. intelligence) combines with other elements to form the will, which is the' centre and substance of the mind ; and that the third, being also forma- tive, diffuses itself through all the systems of the bodily organization : but that the second form of the consciousness (as a faculty of the intel- lect proper) inheres, as do all the other faculties of the mind, in the will as its substance and centre ; while, on the contrary, in the fourth form, the consciousness, as the sense, is the appendage of the reason, inheres in it, grows out of it, and is its instrument ; and reports to it directly and in the first instance whatsoever it collides with and sensates in the external world. f. The relation of the reason to* the consciousness within and the sense without must here be particularly noted. It must be observed that the sense inheres in the reason, and reports to it what it finds in the external world, and that the reason then reports its cognitions to the central consciousness within. g. The intellect proper has two faculties ; viz., the consciousness, as a knowing faculty, and the reason with the appendage of the sense, by which it reaches out, as with fingers and feelers, microscope and telescope, into the external world. It must be observed, also, that in the human mind the sense inheres in the reason, and the reason inheres in the will, which is the essence of the mind ; while in brutes the seuse inheres direct^ in the self, which is the essence of brute being ; for the brute has no reason. h. Indeed, the brute has no intellect proper at all, for it has no con- sciousness as a knowing faculty, but only an essential intelligence as a formative principle, which never rises higher than a self. Consequently the external consciousness, or sense, in the brute, inheres in, and reports directly to, this self ; while in human beings the sense inheres in the reason, which is the highest intellectual faculty, and brings it into con- tact and correspondence with the external world, and then reports to it in the first instance, and through it back to the original and central consciousness of the soul. i. What the office of the sense is will, therefore, readily appear, when we observe what it actually does in connection with the act of perceiv- ing. We shall by experiment ascertain that the office of the sense is, not to perceive, not to cognize, any object, but to furnish to the reason the facilities for coming into contact with external objects, in order that it may perceive and cognize them. j. The Sense is both physical resistance and the five senses ; the former is made up .of the whole impenetrable self, the latter are simply the antennae of the reason. They are the rod, the probe, in the hand 4 of the reason, with which it surveys, measures, and investigates. The sense is the link between the reason and the external world, and brings THE INTELLECT. 485 them tog-ether thereby, physical resistance giving the substance of things by simple contact, and the five' senses giving the qualities of things by sensation, thus making perception and cognition both possible and actual. k. Every act of cognition of an external object consists in the application, by the reason, of one of its own ideas to the object presented by the sense faculty. In order to this, two things are obviously neces- sary ; the one is, that the reason must have certain ideas, on the one- hand, and the other is, that there must be some method of bringing external objects into contact with it, on the other hand. I. Then the reason, by applying its ideas to the objects thus pre- sented, cognizes or knows them, or, in other words, translates them into the language of ideas, and hands them over to the consciousness as things known. Now, the faculty by which an object is thus brought before the reason for cognition, is the sense ; and the act of the reason by which it becomes aware of the presence of the external object thus brought before it for cognition, we call perception. m. Perception, then, is simply the being aware of the presence of an unknown object. It is not knowing what the object is, but simply that it is present, in order that the mind may know what it is ; and this knowing what the object thus before the mind is, we call cognition. n. But the office of the sense is not cognizing, nor yet perceiving, but simply to serve 'as the means of effecting contact and sensating : the contact is by physical resistance, and the sensating is by the five senses. And when this contact is effected, and when this sensating is performed, then, first, perception takes place, by which the reason is made aware of the presence of an object; and then, secondly, cognition of the object thus perceived is made ; after which, the object being in possession 'of the mind, it goes forward with all its succeeding operations, as con- ceiving, remembering, theorizing, &c, &c, to all of which we now proceed. o. Thus have we discriminated between consciousness, and reason, and the sense, and shown what part each acts in the operation of know- ing ; and we have shown that consciousness both grasps its own object and cognizes it ; and that the reason has no power of grasping or bring- ing an object before itself, but simply of comprehending and forming ideas from the facts of consciousness. We have shown, then, that the reason, with these ideas, cognizes the objects which physical resistance and the senses bring before it, and passes them over into the conscious- ness, while physical resistance and the senses have no office at all, save that of bringing external objects before the mind. p. We have also shown that the consciousness cognizes facts within it- self immediately and absolutely, but receives intelligence through the rea- 486 AUTOLOGY. son mediately, and knows it relatively ; and that the reason cognizes ideas from the facts of consciousness immediately and absolutely, while it cognizes external objects through physical resistance and the senses mediately and relatively. Thus armed with the absolute knowledge of facts by the consciousness, and the absolute knowledge of ideas by the reason, and with the apparatus of physical resistance and the senses, the mind is fully prepared to go out and cognize all objects in the universe, with which it can thus be brought into contact. . B. The Ground and Conditions of Perception. a* The first ground and condition of perception is the mutual impene- trability of perceiver and perceived. Two bodies must meet and mutu- ally resist one another before there can be any perception of the one by the other ; each must, of course, be objective to the other, and this is the first act of perception ; viz., the mutual objectivity of perceiver and perceived. This is the sine qua non of all possible perception. b. The second ground of all perception is that of a susceptibility, on the part of the perceiver, to the qualities of the perceived. Without this nothing can be definitely known. On the first ground of all per- ception just named, the substance and reality of an object may be known ; on the second, the qualities of an object may be known. c. Thus we shall find that the constituents of all objects — substance and qualities — stand over against the corresponding faculties of the sense, viz., physical resistance and the five senses : by the former we find out substance, by the latter, qualities ; and thus the first operation of the reason in knowing by means of ideas and the senses, in the external world, is perceiving. d. It is not the sense that perceives, but the reason perceives through the senses ; and this is not an operation of cognition, but only of perceiv- ing. Perceiving is not so much knowing as being made aware that there is something to be known ; just as physical resistance and sensation are not perception, but the bringing of the mind into contact with something to be perceived. e. In perception, the reason is simply introduced into the presence of external objects, by means of physical resistance and the senses, for the purpose of knowing them. No ideas are employed, it is merely an experi- ence of force ; no knowledge is gained, save that something is present to be known ; as, for instance, I hear a rap at the door ; that merely informs me that somebody or something is there ; and this I know simply by experience, as I see and hear; it is only sensation, which I know to mean that some person or thing is at the door. I open the door, and find it a person or thing, as may be. A better illustration is that, in passing the street at night, I hit something with my elbow, I do not THE INTELLECT. 487 know what : but I know that it is something. I stop and examine, and find it a box, a lamp-post, a person, a horse, or some other thing. f. Now, the elbow and its feeling are the sense ; for they make contact and sensation possible. The touching of 'the thing with my elbow, by which I am made aware that something is there, is perception. The examining of it, and the ascertaining of what it really is, is cognition, as discriminated from perception. The reason, with the senses, pros- pects,, reconnoitres, explores, purveys, and thus gathers and brings up all objects, and sets them before its own intelligence for cognition. g. This is perception. It is the reason that perceives through the sense, — i. e., through physical resistance and the five senses, — just as it is the astronomer that sees through the telescope. As it is not the telescope that sees, but the astronomer, so it is not the sense which per- ceives, but the reason behind it, which uses it. When, therefore, it is said that the sense perceives, it is meant that the reason perceives through it. h. The senses' have sensation, and are thereby capable of being instru- ments ; but sensation is not perception. The sensitiveness of the senses, like the transparency of the lens, or the susceptibility of the lodestone, or the mercury in the thermometer, is that which adapts them to be in- struments of the mind ; but it does not make them the mind. The reason perceives through the sense, and in perceiving is simply made aware of the presence of some object, but is not at all informed by the act of perception as to what the object is. This is left for another operation of the mind, viz., cognition. Perception bows itself out when, by the senses, it has introduced an object to the reason for cognition. i. The reason, in the act of perception, comes out to the utmost •verge of the senses, looks, hears, touches, tastes, smells through them, and by means of the whole bodily and spiritual personality collides with external objects, and thus finds their impenetrability ; and by these means it perceives the object, and comes into contact with it for cognition. j. To the question, then, "What is perception?" the reply is, that perception is that act of the reason through the sense (either as physi- cal resistance, or as the five senses, or as both) by which the reason ia brought into contact with an external object, and an external object is. brought before the reason for cognition. Perception is not cognition, nor is it mere sensation ; but it is the making of the mind aware of the- presence of external objects. k. It does not discriminate as to what the external object is, nor give- knowledge as to what it is ; that is done by the reason through its ideas, in the act of cogniLion ; but perception is not cognition ; it is only the perceiving that there is something to be cognized. It is not sensation ; 488 AUTOLOGY. for mere physical resistance has no sensation, and yet it leads to percep- tion ; that is, it makes the reason awa:-e that there is something- to be cognized, and that is the whole work of perception. It engrasps an object by means of physical resistance, or the senses, or both, and brings it before the reason for cognition ; and then the reason does cognize it by applying its ideas to it, and translating it into ideas. 1. Perceiving, then, as an act of the reason, is simply engrasping by means of the sense. It implies contact and engrasping. It thus'takes up the object, receives it into its grasp, or its reception-room, and pre- sents it to the reason for cognition. Perception through the sense, then, is employed by the reason as the presentation act; for perceiving is presenting an external object at the court of the reason for cognition. Perception through the sense is thus used as the door-keeper, the usher to the reason ; and by it are brought in we know not who ; but the moment the reason meets them with its knowledges of the knowable and its manifold ideas, already acquired and in possession, it knows them, and calls them by their names. m. But, in order more fully to understand what perception is, and how it is discriminated from cognition, it will be necessary to consider that perception proper is the contact with, and the making us aware of, and the presenting to us of, that which is external to the perceiver, and that whether the perceiver be a pure spirit or a mind in a human body. The essence of matter or of mind is alike impenetrable, whether it be in pure spirit, or in a human body, or in an animal, or in any object in nature, or in a world ; in all cases the essence is impenetrable. n. Perception, therefore, in either case, is the contact, presentation, and apprehension of something external to the perceiver. Perception is also by means of the senses ; and these sensations will be as various as ' the senses and the objects with which the perceiver comes by them into contact ; but they are never cognitions. 2. a. But here it may be asked, " Plow do we know that the object perceived, or supposed to be perceived, is not an illusion of the subjec- tive action of the- mind, imposing its subjective activity upon itself for the object?" To this it is replied, that the office of tl\e sense or per- ceptive faculty (as it is miscalled), is to bring the reason into contact with the objects of cognition in any or all of their varieties ; and in doing this it employs the sense, in all its adaptation to the different forms of phe- nomena. b. Now, that the contact of the reason with external objects, thus brought about, is real and a veritable cognition of objectivity, is proved just as directly, as inevitably, and as positively, and by the same means as that by which we prove the existence of the external world at all ; and how do we prove the existence of an external world ? The reply is, by the same THE INTELLECT. 489 means by which we prove' our own existence, self-consciousness giving the " me " and the " not me." c. In order that anything may be perceived, it is of course necessary that there bo both a perceiver and an object of perception : perceiving, therefore, is based on the following primary facts, which are given by the consciousness ; viz., individuality and objectivity ; the con- sciousness giving us first the knowledge of the self, and then also the knowledge of the not self, or the being of that from which the self is separated and individualized. d. Perception is simply the corning in contact of the self as an object occupying space and moving in time, with the not self as an ob- ject also occupying space and moving in time. It is bringing my individuality as an object in space and time into contact with some other object in space and time. Hence perception depends upon the mutual objectivity and impenetrability of the perceiver and the perceived, and is, therefore, necessarily an objective and not a subjective experience. It is because no two objects can occupy the same space at the same time, and because I am conscious that I am a self, an individuality, dis- tinct from the objectivity that is not included in my self-consciousness, that perception is possible. e. Perception, therefore, does not depend upon the senses at all ; it would be the same if men were disembodied. Two individual spirits would be. mutually objective and mutually impenetrable ; the self-con- sciousness of the one would, of necessity, include itself and exclude the self-consciousness of the other; "they must therefore have the faculties of objective perception. And precisely so are two self-consciousnesses in the human body mutually objective and impenetrable, and therefore the perception of each other must also be respectively objective, and cannot 'be subjective. The fact that these self-consciousnesses are each em- bodied and provided with organs of sense does not alter the essential nature of perception at all, as it depends primarily on a faculty lying deeper than the senses, or any faculty of perception, even in its giving us first individuality, and then objectivity. f. The possibility, then, of perception is here seen to be linked with our original self-consciousness, and with the very fact and essence of pur being, as we have already seen when we examined the faculties of the sense, especially that of physical resistance ; for if we are not first con- scious of subjectivity, we cannot be conscious of objectivity, and. if we have not both of these already in the consciousness, the sense perception has nothing by which it can be discriminated or known, or to which it can report itself, but is only a part of the original consciousness of sub- jectivity. Perception, therefore, is the perceiving of objects as opposed to the self that perceives. 62 490 AUTOLOGY. g. The office of the sense in the operation of perception is merely that of physical contact with the matter of the objects to be known, and then by perception are they presented for cognition to the reason. The sense merely lets in physical and external phenomena to the reason, to be cognized by it. Perception, then, is by means of contact with objectivity, bringing it, in all its varieties, before the reason, which, by means of its ideas, cognizes it. h. The contact, however, in each case, is as different as the whole variety of the objects, all and several, with which the perceptive faculty may come in contact. Sensation holds the same relation to perception that the various colors do to light. Pure and complete white light may represent a perception given by the simple contact of the perceptive faculty; viz., physical resistance unembodied with an object. Color may represent the contact with the same object by means of the five senses, the color differing according to the organ or sense employed. The con- tact of the pure perceptive faculty differs, of course, as the objects differ. The sensation of the five senses, however, differs not only as the objects differ, but also according to the organ of sense employed. i. Simple perception, then, without sensation, is mere contact, varying only as the objects vary ; but when accompanied by sensation, or rather when made through the senses, a contact with an external object is colored by the particular sense'through which it is made. The percep- tion is the contact, the sensation is the color, which the particular sense as a lens gives it ; no more. Rattier might we drop the metaphor, and say the truth, that the perception without sensation is that of the essence or substance of the object, and that the perception which is through the five senses is that of the qualities of the object, as we shall soon see. j. To say, then, that sensation may be mistaken for perception, is as absurd as to say that the color or the odor of an orange could be mis- taken for the bulk of the orange when grasped in the hand, or that the taste could be mistaken for the pulp in the mouth. There is here no possibility for an illusion ; for perception is not sensation, but contact ; and that does not depend upon sensation, but upon the mutual impene- trability of the perceiver and the perceived. k. Sensation is, no, doubt, a true index that an object is now and here external to the body ; but two persons, each self-conscious, could know this out of the body, and without any senses, just as certainly and easily; •therefore it is manifest that physical contact is the true ground of sensa- tion, as it is of perception. Every sensation is, therefore, both preceded and followed by a perception, the former of substance and the latter of quality. The former is through physical resistance, and the latter throuarh the five senses. THE INTELLECT. 491 I. And as the mind is cased in a body, and cannot come into contact with an object but through the body, therefore there must always be a physical contact, or a sensation, in order to the perception of external objects. When, therefore, I perceive, 1 have two experiences — a contact and a sensation. Something meets my individuality, and comes in contact with -m} r impenetrability, both bodily and mental, now, and here ; and hence I have a perception. m. Sensation alone would not give a perception, because it alone would not give the knowledge of my impenetrability ; but self-conscious- ness gives conscious impenetrability within, and physical resistance gives the fact of contact without ; and thus a perception is also given ; that is, a real and impenetrable subjectivity and objectivity are brought together, and given by this means as a fact to the reason for cognition. n. Sensation does not, necessarily, give contact ; it is compatible with penetrability. That sensation cannot give contact is clear from the fact that it cannot give self-consciousness; for if it cannot give self-conscious- ness, it cannot give individuality ; and if it cannot give individuality, it cannot give impenetrability ; and if it cannot give impenetrability, it cannot give contact ; and if it cannot give contact, it cannot give per- ception ; for perception is the contact of two impenetrabilities. o. Sensation is, then, in kind, always and everywhere, different and distinct from perception, and when thus understood can by no possibil- ity be confounded with it or mistaken for it. Perception, therefore, can no more be an illusion of the senses than thought, or an idea, or con- sciousness can be an illusion of the senses ; nor can the reality of exter- nal objects any more be doubted than the reality of our being can be doubted ; for the evidence of each is the same, even the consciousness and external experiment. p. Now, perception is that act of the reason using the sense, by which it reaches out and lays hold of an object, and brings it before itself for cognition. It reaches out first by means of physical resistance, and then by the five senses ; the physical resistance gives essence, and the five senses, sustained by it, give qualities, and bring them before the reason for cognition ; and thus are both the substance and the qualities of ob- jects known by the sense and the reason through an external ex- perience. q. And here it appears that the sense is but the instrument of the reason, — like a telescope, or thermometer, an ear trumpet, an assa3 r er's crucible, a sounding-lead, a chemical solvent, steel filings, or a magnetic needle, — and that the reason knows how to interpret these manifesta- tions, and cognize them by means of its ideas, and so give to the con- sciousness the knowledge of what they are. The senses, therefore, are not knowers, but instruments, not comprehenders, but a sort of antennae 492 AUTOLOGY. or tacters used by the reason for the purpose of finding out and bringing before it objects for cognition. r. As physical resistance, if not as the five senses, the senses are possessed by both men and spiritual beings. Yet, as to the five senses even, it is more probable that spiritual beings have more such senses than human beings have, rather than less. This we have found in examining the nature of body and of being embodied, in the last section, which see. Having given in this section the nature of Perception, we proceed to Cognition. SECT. III. THE SEASON COGNIZES. a. The reason, having been provided with the categories and with the organs of the sense by means of absolute knowing, and having made itself aware of the presence of external objects by perception through the collision and sensation of the sense, is now prepared to cognize those objects by means of the categories. It was necessary first to know what the categories are, and what the organs of the sense are, before we could use them ; and it was necessary that the reason should first be made aware that external objects exist, and perceive that they are pres- ent, before it could cognize them and know what they are. b. All this knowledge of the facts, and faculties, and instruments of the mind, and the ideas formed from them, is, therefore, supercategoric knowledge ; and this is what we have been attaining in searching after the facts of consciousness, and the ideas of the reason formed from them, and the nature and office of the sense, and the act of perception, in the preceding sections. That which we shall know by means of the cate- gories, in the succeeding chapters, is, however, subcategoric knowledge ; and'this brings us at once to the inquiry, — A. What are the knowings of the reason under, and by means of, the categories and the senses ? a. What does the reason do with its qualifications and equipments of ideas and perceptions 1 We reply, that under and by means of the cate- gories, the reason knows or cognizes ; and that it does this by applying the category to an object, or b} 7 bringing the object under the category, for these terms describe the same mental act. b. We know an object, in its primitive form, by bringing it under some one of the primary ideas or categories, and interpreting it by them, or by bringing it under and interpreting it by some specific conception of a particular object (which is a specific category); and this fact of bringing the object under the idea or category is an act of cognition or knowing — or judgment or knowing, as some call it; and the whole parade of. THE INTELLECT. 493 logic and the syllogisms is simply the means of seeing that the act of cognizing or knowing is done correctly and without fallacy. c. Every act of cognition must have two elements; viz., an idea of an object, and a perception of it. Without these two things there can •be no cognition. We must first know what is knowable of the object; that is, have an idea or comprehension of it, which is the category, and then we must have an apprehension of its actual and phenomenal pres- ence. These two things must first exist, and then they must co-operate; neither alone can give us a knowledge of the object. d. The idea of an object is merely empty and void ; it is only the capability of knowing, not the faculty of knowing the object. Then, on the other hand, a perception or apprehension of the object is not know- ing it ; it is only knowing that it # is there to be known ; in itself it is no cognition, but mere apprehension^ i. e., perception of the presence of an unknown object. e. But the bringing of a perception under an idea gives knowledge, or cognition, of the object so brought before the mind ; perception gives only the reality or matter of the object ; the idea, or category, gives only the form of it, as Kant calls it; i. e., the vessel that it is measured in, or the intellectual form or comprehension. The former gives the thing to be known, and the latter the capability of knowing it ; and the two, acting conjointly, give the knowledge, or cognition, of the object. /. Through the sense, the reason perceives that there is something to be known, puts out its feelers, its aniennce, and thus brings the reason and the object into mutual contact ; and then the reason applies its idea or category to the object, and by it interprets or cognizes it. Thus all objects of cognition are made up of form (i. e., intellectual form — de- rived from the comprehending mould) — and the matter. g. The matter is the material of the form, and the form is the shape of the matter shaped by the mind in comprehending it, i. e., the material fills the mould or measure, and the same mould or measure is the shape of the matter. The matter fills the form, and the form holds the matter ; it is therefore plain that in order to cognize an object, we must cognize both these things, and they are so intermixed and iden- tical, that we cannot know the one without knowing the other. We can know the matter only through the form, and can realize the form only through the matter. h. The same intellect perceives the matter and comprehends the form, and it takes the idea or form and realizes it in the matter or sense per- ception, as it takes the matter or sense perception and cognizes it in and by the form or idea of the reason. The form is the knowable of the ob- ject, which the reason has attained from the facts of consciousness. The matter is that with which' the act of perception brings us into contact by 494 AUTOLOGY. means of the sense. In one word, the form or idea is the capability, which the reason has beforehand, of cognizing an external object ; and the matter or sense perception is the object to be cognized, with which the act of perception, by means of the sense, brings us into contact. Now, the joint action of these two things, viz., the Reason capability of knowing, and the Sense perception of the object to be known, gives cognition. (Matter here means both the reality and the accidental cover- ing of an object.) i. The completed act of cognition is this : the reason, having formed to itself ideas from the facts of consciousness, and being armed with the antennas of the senses, first perceives by the senses that some object is present for cognition ; then it cognizes that object by means of its ideas formed from the facts of consciousness*, and passes that cognition over to the consciousness as a conception of the new fact ; and then the con- sciousness applies the new conception to its own original fact, from which the idea by which it was obtained was formed, and finds it a fitting conception of it ; and thus is the act of cognition complete. j. The ne'w fact is cognized by an original idea formed from a fact of consciousness, and then that cognition, as a conception of the fact cog- nized, is applied to, and verified by, the original fact from which the idea by which it was cognized was formed, and this gives complete cognition. k. Thus is cognition performed, verified, and completed ; for, in the very act of cognizing a fact by an idea, the reason necessarily forms a conception of it ; which conception passes over to the consciousness, to, be applied to the original fact from which the idea by which it was cog- nized was formed ; and thus is the cognizing verified by. both the origi- nal idea and the fact already in the reason and in the consciousness ; thus is this new conception joined to the original fact as intimately and as necessarily as is the original idea itself; and thus does this concep- tion come to be a part of the permanent knowledge and furniture of the mind — a fixture as necessary and as imperishable as the original ideas and facts themselves. * B. Hoio is this act of cognition verified? < a. Here the question may be raised, How is all this operation proved to be real and valid ? The first proof is from consciousness ; for in the act of cognizing we are just as conscious of laying hold of or perceiv- ing the matter as of possessing and applying the form or the idea of it. I am just as conscious of extending my perceptive faculty through the sense, and of thus laying hold of the matter, as I am of employing my reason in applying to it my idea of it, or my knowledge of the knowable of it, which I had before obtained from the facts of consciousness. In the one act I am conscious of perceiving that there is an object to be THE INTELLECT. 495 known ; in the other I am conscious of comprehending the object thus presented by my knowledge and capability already possessed. b. I am not conscious of any cognition of an external object by sim- ply possessing the ideas or the knowledge of the knowable which my reason obtained from the facts of consciousness ; nor am I conscious of any cognition, when I merely engrasp and lay hold of some object, I know not what, by the act of perception through the antennae of the sense. But when I both grasp the matter by perception and compre- hend it by my reason, then do I cognize an object, and the whole act is fully vouched for by the same consciousness as joining the subjective and the objective, the sense and the reason, in one act of knowledge of a real object in the external world. c. Thus the reason, armed with ideas formed from the original facts of consciousness behind it, and being brought into contact with external objects b} T the apparatus of the sense before it, cognizes external ob- jects ; and this cognition is the interpreting of a fact by an idea — the knowing of the external objects with which the sense brings us into contact by means of the ideas which the reason has already formed from the facts of' consciousness. d. "The bringing together of an intuition and a conception," says Kant, " is cognition ; " for, says he, " intuitions alone are blind, and conceptions alone are void," but the two brought together give cogni- tion. The conceptions are, according to him, the " schemata," given be- forehand, of the sensuous intuitions, and according to which they must be. We have, however, seen that these conceptions, which we call ideas, are formed from facts, and are, hence, not void, but the real ideas of real things, and the valid interpreters of the intuitions or percep- tions of objects brought before the mind by the sense. Those ideas are not, therefore, a priori, but are a posteriori, being formed from facts, and hence are rightly applied to facts as the explanation of them. e. Cognition is, then, the explaining or interpreting, by the reason, through the ideas which it has formed from the facts of consciousness, of an object with which it has been brought into contact by physical resistance, or the five senses. Now, these cognitions are as various as the objects which are brought before the mind for cognition. They vary, not according to the power of the mind to know, but according to the objects to be known. The original ideas or categories of the mind, formed from the facts of consciousness, do cover all the objects in the universe, and are sufficient to cognize them all ; though other facts and peculiarities will be learned about those objects, and other ideas formed upon them after they' are known, by the primitive ideas, besides those which the original ideas and cognitions of them give. /. The primary categories or ideas are of a very general character, 496 AUTOLOGY. and disregard all peculiarities. The facts and forms that individualize are gathered up from without, and may take their place as conceptions and ideas in the mind with which to cognize other facts and objects as they may come before the reason for cognition. g. To illustrate the operation of cognition under the categories, take some of them as found by consciousness and the reason, and put them to the test of experiment. (1.) Wo will begin with the category of cause. I look out upon a flooded stream as it comes down the valley of its usual bed ; it rises, and swells, and overflows its banks, and presses with increased current and augmented volume down its course, until, coming to a bridge, usu- ally high above its surface, the swollen waters lift it from its foundation, and bear it away on their bosom, and precipitate it over the cataract, and dash it to pieces. Here I see a cause, by its own force producing an effect. Now I apply my knowledge of cause, already formed into an idea and a category from the primary facts of consciousness, to this event, and I cognize it at once as a fact of cause and effect. I see both the cause and the effect, and the connection between them ; it is precisely • what I have before known of the nature and work- ing of cause producing an effect. The cause is a force producing a result, not simply an antecedent of it. My senses here, as my con- sciousness before, teach me that cause is a force, not simply an antece- dent, .and that this force produces the result. And what consciousness and sense here teach as simple and individual facts the reason affirms as a necessary principle ; and thus we cognize this external phenomenon of the senses by the category or idea of the reason already possessed by the mind and formed from the facts of consciousness. (2.) Taking up the next category, viz., time, we apply it to this transpiring event and find that it is enclosed in time ; it began", pro- gressed, and ended in a space of time. * (3.) Again, taking up the whole phenomenon from cause to effect, and from beginning to end, it is all enclosed in space ; for it is all an object or quantit} r before the sight, and occupying space. (4.) We cognize it, therefore, by the category of quantity, as an object occupying space. (5.) Following the water to the sea, we find the ceaseless action and reaction, which keeps it pure, and by which perpetual evaporation is car- ried on, clouds are formed, and the rain, and snow, and thaws are pro- duced, which supply fountain, field, and river, and flow back to ocean again, preserving the life of both land and sea. All this we cognize under the category of Action and Reaction. h. We now come to the category of substance. This is first formed, as we have seen, by physical resistance. Two objects are brought into THE INTELLECT. 497 contact ; they mutually resist each other, and, though colliding with ever so much violence, still remain mutually impenetrable and incom- pressible ; thus do they demonstrate the presence and fact of a sub- stance in each. Impenetrability is the essence of essence, the substance of substance. Having thus found the substance by this physical resist- ance, we next find the qualities that inhere in it, by means of the five senses. With these we examine and test the object until we find all the qualities that inhere in it. Take, for instance, an apple. We find it has the qualities of roundness, color, odor, taste, mellowness, and others, and, thus we cognize the facts of substance and qualities by means of the categories of substance and quality already formed from the facts of consciousness. i. But will it be said, that we cannot demonstrate the presence or existence of substance in any object before us by means of physical resistance, for all the qualities that it manifests may be destroyed by the contact ; One object may be harder or stronger than the other, and be able to demolish all that exists, so that nothing will be left to meet and sustain the contact of physical resistance. To this it is replied, that this is only comparative as to the endurance of the two objects. If the one is weaker than the other, the weaker will disappear ; i.e., take another form, so that it will not be tangible to the gross form of the first ; that is all ; it is not at all proved that there is no substance. / Should each dash the other to pieces, still the subtile forces of cohe- sion would remain. In the case of two human beings, should they each dash against the other until the body disappear, still their spirits would be mutually repellent, and would maintain their conscious individuality and separate substance. The same is true of all material objects ; the fact that they disappear is owing to our want of faculties to discover them. k. Should all the inhabitants of the globe attack Mont Blanc, they might, in process of time, dig it down and throw it into the Mediterra- nean, and so of any other material object, as a tree, a house, or any other thing. We might here, for want of faculties, when we had de- stroyed the qualities, be unable to find the substance by physical resist- ance, and the impenetrability which it discloses and demonstrates, as we can in the case of two human beings, who, when they have mutually destroyed each other's body, find their self-consciousness still mutually repellent, impenetrable, and individual ; but let the inhabitants of the whole earth attempt to dig down and destroy the whole earth, and throw away all its tangible parts, and then they will find that it has indeed an indestructible and impenetrable substance, even the force of gravitation, which hplds all the qualities of the earth in indissoluble inherence. 63 498 AUTOLOGY. I. Thus it is demonstrated by physical resistance that there is a sub- stance as well as qualities, and that substance, as well as qualities, is tangible and impenetrable. With this fact of the whole earth with its substance before us, we see that the fact that we are unable to detect the substance of a tree, animal, or any other thing in nature by physical resistance, proves nothing but the defectiveness of our faculties. m. As to the modes of existence, as possible, actual, and necessary, facts abound on every hand to be cognized by these categories. I cog- nize anything as possible which conforms to the conditions of the actual ; viz., that a man may walk a rope, turn a. somerset, measure ten feet high, or weigh a thousand pounds ; I cognize that as actual of which I have a sensuous perception, and to which I apply one of the categories of cog- nition,. That is necessary which is made so by the existence of other things, as that all right angles are equal, the parent must be before the child. Thus do the categories and the sense perceptions, the reason and the sense, co-operate in cognizing external objects, and thus are ex- ternal things known. C. Further verification of the act of cognition. a. Should the question still be raised, Is not all this illusion ? is not the supposed connection between the perception and the idea imaginary, and the cognition, consequently, a mere seeming? Granting that the perception is real, is not the cognition an illusion ? To this it is replied, that the consciousness has already, in this section, been shown to bear testimony to the certainty and connection of the two acts of perception and cognition. b. But for further illustration and confirmation we may review the ground already gone over, and re-examine it with the same and further illustrations. To wit, is the idea of the reason actually applied to the perceptions of the sense, and does it rightly interpret them ? That we may more clearly see the unity of the ac'ts of perception through the sense, and cognition through the ideas of the reason, let us .review the following illustrations : Let the object to be cognized be an apple, and let it be cognized simply as an object or quantity, and, of course, under the idea, or category, of quantity. In the first instance, the per- ceptive faculty comes into contact with it by means of the antennas of the sense. It touches it, measures round it with eye or finger moving from point to point, until it completes the whole survery. It starts with a point as unity, or one ; it adds to it point after point as plurality, and completes at length the whole in one totality ; and while so doing, the reason, at the same instant, in noting these steps of the perceptive faculty, applies its ideas of quantity to it, and thus cognizes it, forms its THE INTELLECT. 499 cognition- of the object ; or rather, it applies its idea to it, announcing its name, and thus cognizes it. c. Still the illustration may not be satisfactory, and the question may still be raised, "How do we know that the idea in the reason actually applies to, and rightly interprets, the object in the sense ? " and to this it may be replied, that the unity of the faculty of cognition and of perception, and of the acts of perception and cognition, in know- ing an external object, may be aptly compared to the head and the feet, and the unity of their action, in the following instance : suppose an in- dividual to measure a rod square of ground by the simple and ordinary method of pacing its several sides ; to wit, from a given point he steps five paces to the north ; then, making a right angle, he steps five more to the east ; then, making another right angle, he steps five to the south ; and then, in like manner, making another right angle, he steps five paces to the west, to the place of beginning. Thus he has measured off complete the rod square of ground, as was proposed. d. Now, if in this operation the feet be made to represent, as they in reality do, the faculty and the act of perception- through and by means of the sense, — that is, the faculty of corning into contact with external objects, — and the head be made to represent, as it rn fact does, the idea or the category, — that is, the reason with its idea and category, or the faculty that has already on hand the idea and the knowledge of the knowable, with which to cognize objects — and if we mark how the head notes the steps of the feet, numbers and computes them, and gathers up the result as one total, we shall have a complete illustration of the rela- tion of the faculties, and of the operation of cognizing an object as simply a thing or quantity. e. We here see that the movement of the feet over the matter or space of the rod square, and the notations of the reason in collecting its instants or steps under its idea of a square, from the first unity, or one single point or step towards a plurality of points or steps, and to stepping round to a complete totality at the place of beginning, — that is, each step of the feet from the first, step to the second, and so around to the last, — arc simultaneous and identical in action with the noting of it by the head, having the same consciousness in one and the same unity, each performing parts of the same single cognition. /. The rod square is cognized by the unity of the twofold act of the head and the feet, nor is there any possible doubt but that the notations of the head are of the steps of the feet, or that the steps of the feet are the notations of the head, or that the rod square paced by the feet is the same as conceived by the head. The head applies its idea of a rod square to the portion of ground paced by the feet, and does this in and by the act of pacing it ; each step of the pacing is noted by the reason, and 500 AUTOLOGY. is a step of the application of the idea of the reason to the perception, which, when complete, completes the cognition. g. Now, the application of the idea of the reason to an object per- ceived is affirmed by the same consciousness that affirms the act of perceiving ; indeed, we have already shown them to be identical in con- sciousness. By pacing the perception, we apply it to the idea, and by pacing the notation of the idea, we apply it to the perception ; and by applying thus the idea and the perception to each other, we pace the cognition of the object ; the acts thus become identical, so that the con- sciousness that affirms the objectivity of the thing perceived affirms also the objectivity of the idea of the thing perceived as belonging to it. The reality of our knowledge and the reality of the objects of our knowledge are thus both established by the same act of consciousness. h. In like manner may we verify our cognition of Quality. The per- ceptive faculty separates the qualities of an object one from another in distinguishing and discerning them, as the roundness, color, odor, and taste of an apple ; and the reason, noting the acts of separating and distinguishing, applies unto the quality thus separated, as the roundness, its own idea of roundness, and thus cognizes it as a quality, and so of each quality as inhering in the apple and constituting it. i. We now come to the category of Relation, including cause, sub- stance, and reciprocal action : and here we shall find also that we may verify the reality and the truthfulness of the cognitions of cause and sub- stance, and reciprocal action, under these categories respectively, as certainly and reliably, and by the same experimental test, as in the pre- ceding categories of Quantity and Quality just given. j. But here first, in the explanation of the operation of cognition under the category of relation as substance and cause, it must be ob- served that in cognizing under the two preceding categories, the idea with which we cognized has been applied directly to the object, and has been found to be embodied in it ; as the idea of an apple was found em- bodied in it by analyzing the apple. But now in cognizing, not the object itself but the substance or cause of the object, we shall find that the idea of substance or cause applies, not to the object, but to the converse of the object. k. The direct object of sense is quantity or quality. These are directly the objects of the ideas of quantity and of quality, but they are the indirect objects of the ideas of cause and substance. The idea of a cause is very different from the idea of an effect, so also is the fact of cause different from the fact of effect. The idea of quality is different from the idea of substance, so also is the fact of quality different from the fact of substance ; and so great is this difference that almost all authors affirm that there cannot be shown to be any cause from an effect, THE INTELLECT. 501 or any substance from,qualities ; that is, that the phenomenal appear- ance of an effect or of a quality is not like the phenomenal appearance of a cause or of a substance, and they are no proof of their existence ; in- deed, that neither substance nor cause can be phenomenal at all. That it is the office of that part of the sense which we call physical resist- ance to come into contact with and perceive substance, as it is the office of the five senses to meet and perceive quality, we have already shown. I). All causes are phenomenal in their effects, as substances are in their qualities, and hence are perceptible. a. We now propose to show that effects give the phenomenal forms of causes as really, though not to the same extent, as qualities give the phenomenal forms of substances ; that is, that when an effect gives directly its own phenomenal form, it gives conversely the phenomenal form of its cause ; and that while a quality gives directly its own phenom- enal form, it gives conversely the phenomenal form of its own sub- stance or essence ; and thus that the cause and substance of objects are phenomenal as well as their quantity and qualities. b. For illustration : when we cognize a leaden bullet as an object or effect, and the mould of that bullet as the cause. When the sense comes in contact with such a bullet, -I apply my idea of such a bullet directly to it, and cognize it as a bullet ; that is, I examine it, and find the realization of my whole idea of a bullet ; this is a direct application of my idea of the object, and it is called analytical knowing, or judging, or cognizing. c. But when I consider the object bullet, which is present, and use it to cognize the cause or mould of the bullet, which is absent, then I apply my idea of a bullet in the reverse order — that is, turned inside out — from what I do in cognizing the object bullet. The idea of a ball is that of a convex globe — the idea of the mould of the bullet is that of a concave space. Now, this last is the converse of the first, and this last act is called a synthetical, and not an analytical judgment, be- cause it is supposed to unite the object or effect bullet with something that does not appear in it, or belong to it, but is separate from it, like the mould. d. But there seems to be no occasion for this distinction ; for the effect is as much the sensuous phenomenon of the cause as it is of itself. To wit, the roundness or shape of the bullet as certainly fills my idea of the mould of the bullet, as it does my idea of the bullet itself ; and hence the cognition of the mould seems to be as directly from the bullet as does the cognition of the bullet itself. e. Let the facts be changed — let me have the mould present before me, and let the bullet be absent. Then will the mould be directly the 502 AUTOLOGY. phenomenon of a mould, and conversely the phenomenon of a bullet. Who will say that the ball cannot be distinctly cognized as the absent effect of the mould as its cause ? Most certainly it can. And if so, why cannot the absent mould be cognized by the present ball. If I can form the idea of the absent bullet from the present mould, surely I can form the idea of the absent mould from the present bullet, and the bullet may be regarded as the cause of the mould as properly as its effect. /. The idea of the bullet, therefore, and the idea of the cause of the bullet, arise and are formed with equal directness out of the same bullet, which is a phenomenon before me. In analyzing the bullet, I find it has roundness, and is spherical ; by uniting these qualities in a sub- stance, I find the result, a bullet. But, on the other hand, by ana- lyzing these same qualities in relation to their cause, we have the mould as our idea, and as the fact of cause, from this same ball. We do find by analyzing the bullet that a mould or cause must have been, and of what kind or shape that mould or cause must have been. g. It is not, then, correct to say that an effect is so unlike its cause as to give no idea of it ; for it is the precise image of its cause, only in the converse form. The ball is spherical and convex, the mould out of which it came is vacant and concave ; but the ball is as perfectly the image of the mould as it is the image of itself. The ball directly answers to the idea or image of a ball, but conversely it answers to the idea or image of the mould of a ball. In both cases, we analyze the ball, and in both cases the constituents of the ball, or rather the quali- ties of the ball, fill the idea with which we cognize it. h. We may cognize a ball with the idea or image of its mould, or witli the idea or image of a ball. In the one case we cognize the ball simply as an object, and in the other as an effect whose cause is shown by its shape. The bullet is the direct embodiment of the idea of a bullet; it is the converse embodiment of the cause or mould of the bullet. i. With the ideas, and under the categories, of quantity and quality, we cognize the ball as simply an object. With the category of cause we cognize the same ball, not simply as an object, but as an effect which had a cause, and we cognize it by that cause; and thus is it proved that this bullet is the direct phenomenal object in which is realized and embodied the idea of a bullet. And thus also it appears that this self- same bullet is the converse phenomenal embodiment of the cause or mould of the same bullet ; and hence it is proved that causes have phenomenal appearances in all cases, as well as their effects have, and in the same object. j. In further illustration of the fact that cause has a phenomenal appearance, let us recur to the instance of a flowing stream, already TIIE INTELLECT. 503 employed. In cognizing the cause of any object, we note the marks of beginningness, or of eventuating in it ; as, for instance, the flowing of Water down a channel. The perceptive faculty passes over the successive instants of time, and the material motions or steps of a successive mov- ing in a direct and fixed order, an order that cannot be reversed, as the flowing of a stream. k. Now, the reason notes in each of these instants of successive beginningness (that is, the evidence that they are beginning things, and not self-existent), and in noting the steps of perception, applies unto them its idea of a cause or a beginner, as a force essentially active, and thus cognizes the cause of the flowing of the water as . an essentially active force. I. And so of any other event ; when we perceive change, or the evi- dence of change (that is, of beginningness), the reason, in noting such change, or such evidence of change, applies to them its idea of cause, arid interprets them, comprehends them, cognizes them, by its idea of cause, or the principle that every begun thing must have a beginner. Now, the idea of the cause is just the converse of the idea of the effect, as the fact of cause is the converse of the fact of an effect. The effect which we look upon, in this instance, is the moving water. The cause, i. e., the idea of cause which we apply to this effect, is that of an essen-' tially active and moving force, and it applies to the moving water on the reversed side from that to which the idea of the effect itself — viz., the moving water — applies to it. m. As the stamp applies to the image on the wax, or the mould to the ball, so the idea of a cause applies to the object which is its effect. It is direct in itself, but indirect in relation to the application of the idea to the. effect; as the concave stamp in intaglio is the converse of the convex image or figure in relievo or cameo on the wax. Thus has cause clearly a phenomenal and objective appearance, in all cases, in its effect. n. We now come to another category ; viz., Action and Reaction ; and here also we observe that the perceptive faculty brings the reason into contact with a movement alternately in opposite directions, as the swinging of a pendulum, or the swaying of a tree, or the motion of the waves. The reason, noting such movement, applies to it, and interprets it by its idea of reciprocal cause, or action and reaction. And here also the idea is not the direct idea of the object, but the idea of the cause of the object, which, of course, applies to the converse of the object ; that is, reversely to the present object, as the concave stamp to the figure which it has made on the soft wax. This figure is the object of its own idea directly, and the object of the idea of the stamp conversely. o. We come now to the category of Substance, and find here, as in 504 AUTOLOGY. the case of cause and effect, that the same object gives the phenomenal appearance for two things which are each the converse of the other ; to wit, quality and substance. When under the category of substance and quality we observe certain qualities, as the roundness, color, flavor, &c, of an apple, having fixedness of place and time, the reason, noting the perception of these qualities, applies to them its idea of quality in- hering in a substance, and thus cognizes them as qualities. So also when the perceptive faculty perceives the same roundness, color, flavor, &c, of an apple, the reason, in noting that perception, applies to it the idea of the substance, apple, as holding these qualities in inherence in that sub- stance, thus cognizing the substance. p. And here the idea of the substance and the fact of the substance are precisely the reverse of the idea and the fact of the qualities of the apple to which it is applied; yet the idea of- the substance does as in- telligently interpret and apply to the combined qualities of the apple, as they make one whole apple, as does the idea of the qualities to the qual- ities themselves. The qualities are here the converse of the substance, as the mould is the converse of the ball cast in it. Yet the qualities are the direct embodiment of the idea of themselves, but the converse em- bodiment of the substance of the qualities. q. It is true that the substance does not here appear as a physical thing, as does cause in the case of the mould of a ball, or the stamp of a figure in wax ; but it does appear as a force, as much as did the moving- force that impelled the water down the valley in that case of cause ; and as that moving body of water was both the object of the idea of a mov- ing body of water and also the object of the idea of the moving force that moved that body of water, so also are the qualities of an apple the object and embodiment of the idea of the qualities of an apple, and also the object of the idea and embodiment of the substance and force which produced the apple, and in which those qualities inhere. r. The substance of the apple holds the same relation to the qualities of the apple that cause does to its effect. What is the substance of the apple but those vegetative forces that come up through sap, and bud, and blossom, and deposit themselves in the apple, making the apple pre- cisely, in color, taste, and pulp, and shape, and bulk, what they have force to make them. These qualities, then, are the embodiment of the substance as well as of the idea of themselves. They are the matter of the substance, while the substance is the formative force of them. The substance takes on the qualities as forms, while the qualities are out- growths of the substance, and are shaped upon it, and must be just what it is. s. The connection between substance and quality is as necessary and as inevitable as that between cause and effect ; and the quality is just THE INTELLECT. 505 what the substance makes it, and fully embodies and represents the whole substance. Therefore the qualities of an apple are the objects in which the ideas of those qualities are embodied, and also the object in which the substance is embodied ; but the ideas of the qualities are em- bodied directly, while the substance is embodied conversely. Even as the mould is conversely embodied in the thing moulded, so is the sub- stance of the apple embodied conversely in the qualities of the apple. t. The substance of a thing is the potential form of the thing ; the qualities are the form of that thing as object. The substance produces and shapes the qualities, and the qualities embody the substance, so that they are identical, yet each the converse of the other, like a medallion stamped on a thin metallic plate, in which each prominence on the one side is produced by making a corresponding depression on the other, and each side is the precise converse of the other. u. As the soul of man beams out and is embodied in the shape and expression of the face, so do the qualities of an object embody and ex- press the substance or essence of an object ; and as the idea of a face is embodied in a living face directly, so is the soul conversely embodied in the face. The spirit behind is the mould of the face in front ; so does the substance of a thing form its qualities, and the one is the precise con- verse of the other. v. Such is the relation of the same object to its substance and its qualities ; it is direct to the one, and converse to the other. The sub- stance embodies itself necessarily in qualities, and qualities necessarily take shape and nature from their substance, and thus the same object is the phenomenal representation of both. The qualities inhere in the sub- stance, while the substance holds the qualities in inherence. The essence springs up into a quality, while the quality embodies the essence or substance ; the qualities are the image of the substance conversely, while they are their own body directly. w. Passing from inanimate nature to animal life, we may take any object, as a horse. This we cognize not alone by the universal categories of matter ; they do not cover what is peculiar to animal life. But after having found out what we can by applying the categories of cause, effect, time, quantity, space, action and reaction, substance, quality, &c, we find that we have not yet reached all its peculiarities. x. We therefore take the categories of animate nature, and apply them to the animal before us, and we thus cognize it : to wit, we perceive in a horse the phenomena of animal life, a self, a sensuous consciousness and intelligence, sulf-sustentative appetites, self-defensive dispositions, parentive feelings, gregarious habits, and susceptibility to approbation and kindness ; whereupon we apply to this assemblage of phenomena our idea of animal life already formed, and cognize it as such. Our 64 506 AUTGLOGY. categories enable us to know only that it is an animal. All further knowledge is ascertained when we come to the operation of abstraction and generalization in a succeeding section. y. Lastly, that free cause embodies itself in its effects is most obvious. Shakspeare, Milton, Kant, embodied their genius in their works ; so did Raphael and Angelo, Mozart and Beethoven ; so did Fulton and Morse. By their works they are seen, heard, and known ; their works embody their genius and life in a converse form, so that we can prove their ex- istence and nature from their works. E. Man, as effect, is phenomenal of God the Absolute. 1. a. The next object to which we come is a human being, and this we seek to cognize, as .before, by applying to it the universal categories! And here we see that by the categories of cause, effect, time, object, space, action and reaction, substance, and qualities, we may find out much, very much, about a human being, but not all. b. We then pass to the categories of animate nature, and find out something more ; for man is an animal as well as a part of inanimate nature ; but when we have exhausted' all these categories, and found that neither the universal categories of all being, nor the categories of animal nature, will suffice to explain and cognize the whole of humanity, we come to the categories of personality themselves, and apply them to the phenomena of humanity, and by them we are able to. cognize it; to wit, with the category of will, with all its elements, and the intellect, with its consciousness, reason, and sense, and the affections,' with all their varieties, and the conscience, and the completed personality as personal cause, we can cognize and comprehend the being and nature of a fellow human being. c. When we contemplate that being as simply an object before us, we find in all men will, affections, intellect, and conscience, and a com- plete personality, as a free, rational, affectional, and ethical cause ; and thus we know humanity. But this does not satisfy us, nor fully cognize all that is in man. 2. a. We see man before us, not simply as an object, but as an effect, as a created being, having a spirit nature which does not die. The first denotes an author of the soul, the latter its immortality. Let us see what we can know of these things. We have cognized man under the categories of personality, as a human personalit}', and by reason of his spiritual nature, whose spirit does not die, we cognize him under the category of immortal personality, and as created and having a begun ex- istence, and being a free, rational, affectional, ethical, and accountable soul, he can be cognized only by the category of an immortal person- ality. THE INTELLECT. 507 b. To wit ; for a being of a spirit nature, who cannot be shown to be mortal; and who, withal, is a rational and an accountable being-, a being who, knowing the right, does the wrong, or, doing the right, is wronged, there is no complement to existence but in a future life, and no means of being cognised but bj r the category of immortal personality. The reason perceives these facts, applies to themjts idea of an immortal personality, and then cognizes the man as an immortal soul. 3. a. But rising above this, and contemplating man as an effect, hav- ing had a beginning-, we come to him not only as a human personality, and as an immortal personality, but as a created, free, affectional, rational, and ethical personality, a created soul, a created personal cause. And as such, a created person, a created personal effect, we come to ask for the creator of this person, the cause of this effect. And to this the reply is, that an absolute personality alone can be the creator of this personality, the personal cause of this personal effect. b. To prove this, let us recall the investigations under the head of Cause in the categories of universal being. We there found that an effect was a phenomenal embodiment both of itself as an object and of its cause ; of the first directly, and of the second conversely. This was illustrated by the impression of a stamp upon wax, in which the convex figure of a head on the wax was the phenomenal embodiment of the figure itself, say a head of Washington, and the phenomenal embodiment also of the concave stamp or mould by which it was made. • c. Just so now, in this case before us, the created human personality, with will, intellect, affections, and conscience, completed in one person- ality and living cause, is the phenomenal embodiment, first, of the hu- man personality ; and second, it is conversely the phenomenal embodi- ment of the absolute personality, which, having the same image of will, affections, intellect, conscience, and personality, as a living cause, cre- ated this human personality in its own image and likeness, and as a personal cause caused this personal effect. d. The Bible says that man is in the image of God, and if so, God must be in the im'age of man ; and precisely so we find it here in the philosophy and facts of the case. The human soul, with its will, affec- tions, intellect, and conscience, forming a personal cause and one com- plete personality, is in the image of God ; for God created man in his own image. He is therefore like God in these respects indirectly, just as he is like himself directly. e. The creative hand moulded man's spirit after the Creator himself, as an artist would mould a statue of himself, and God himself took on the body of man in Christ, so that we can say on authority, man is in the image of God. But as God has given us no direct likeness of him- self, apart from man, and we have no phenomenal presence of God to 508 AUTOLOGY. look upon, as ho does not, in his own direct, proper, and phenomenal person, appear to our senses, so we cannot verify the likeness of man to the likeness of God by actual and sensuous comparison except only as we see him incarnate in the person of Jesus Christ. We take it thus on God's testimony that he is in the image of man, as man is in his image. f. However, when we. consider the human personality as an effect of a personal cause, then is the human personality as an effect like the cause ; and as in the instance of the stamp and the figure in the wax it is the phenomenal embodiment both of itself as th« figure and of the stamp as the cause of the figure. The human personality is, therefore, the phenomenal embodiment of a human personality, and it is the em- bodiment of the cause of that personality. The idea of human person- ality is directly embodied in man ; the idea of an absolute or creative personality, who created, caused, and moulded this human personality, is embodied conversely in this human personality. g. In the human personality we see the figure on the wax ; it is di- rectly the figure of the human personality; it is at the same time. the reverse figure of the divine or absolute personality which created and was the mould of it. The figure of the head in the wax holds the same relation to the head of which it is the figure, and to the stamp or mould that shaped it in the wax, that steel and wood engraving do to each other. That part that has the dark shade in the steel engraving has the light shade in the wood engraving, so that the same picture is an image or embodiment alike both of the engraving on the wood and of the en- graving on the steel. h. Now, in the light of this fact, the protruding figure in wax is the image of the concave stamp, just as truly and certainly as it is of the head of Washington, which it represents, and which the stamp shapes. So also is man as truly and certainly the image of God as he is of man, whom God created in his own image, only as in the case of the picture made by a wooden and a steel plate : what is light in one is shade in the other, and vice versa. (See paragraphs 5 and 6.) 4. a. But how does it appear that the human personality, as effect, embodies the divine personality, as cause ? And how does the human personality, as an effect, prove that its cause is. a person at all ? And how does it prove that that personal cause is an absolute person, i. e., that God is the author of man's being? To this it is replied, first, that in order to prove the existence of an absolute personal cause, or God, it is necessary to show that the existence of something had a be- ginning ; for that which had a beginning absolutely, was created ; and whatsoever can create is an absolute personal cause, or God. b. Second, man is the only being or thing in the universe whose ex- istence can be proved to have had an absolute beginning, and thus is THE INTELLECT. , . 509 the human personality, as effect, the proof of God's existence as cause, and the embodiment of the converse of that cause, i. e., of its effect; for every effect is the converse of its cause. c. Is it asked, " What is a begun existence ? " The reply is, it is an existence which does not have its source in any blind force or element of nature, acting by the necessity of its own nature, but which has its beginning outside of nature and independent of it, and in the will of a free, rational personality. Where, then, do we find such an existence? Where is there anything so begun ? d. The reply is this. The soul of man, or man as a person, is a be- gun existence. Man is not nature, nor a modification of nature. He is not self-existent, nor the product of blind forces. Man is mind and spirit, and of course could not come from nature's causes ; neither nature nor any blind force could give him existence ; but man is a being whose na- ture is free and rational, and whose existence had an intended beginning out of nature, and by the choice of free and rational beings ; to wit, every human being had his origin, not in natural causes, as plants and ani- mals do, but in the free choice of human parents. This is proved to be man's origin, not only because he is a free, rational soul, and therefore could have no other origin, but it is also a known and historical fact. e. Hence it is proved that man is a being whose existence had a be- ginning out of nature; and that because he is neither nature nor. of nature, but mind and spirit, rational, and free, and ethical ; and also be- cause he has, as a fact, human, parents ; therefore the first man must have been created by a free, rational person ; but the act of creation is the act of God; therefore the cause. of man must have been God; it must have been a being rational and free, who could create, who could give being by' his own will and power. /. Thus is it proved that while the human person is the phenomenal form of an effect, and also the phenomenal form of its own cause, it is also proved that that cause was God ; for none but God can create. To create a stone would be as much proof of the being of God as to create a man ; for the power to create anything is proof of the power to create ; but we cannot prove that a stone, or anything else except the human soul, ever was created ; that is, had its beginning out of nature, and in the reason and will of a person. But the human soul, by its own spirituality, is shown to have had its origin out of nature ; for it is not nature, but mind, and no part of nature, and of course could never come from nature. And, as we have seen, the human person is known his- torically to have its origin in the will of human parents, and so is not of nature. Thus is a human being the phenomenal embodiment of God as his Author or Cause. g. Hence we have God's phenomenal presence in every human per- 510 . AUTOLOGY. sonality, just as the figure on the stamp gives the presence of the mould that shaped it, as well as the figure itself. Thus may we know God with our human faculties. We have found him first present in the world, embodied in the nature of man, by means of the category of personal cause, of which man was the effect. h. We now take the fact thus found, viz., man as the effect of God's creative power, embodying God's phenomenal presence in the human personality, and cognize it by an idea of an absolute personality already formed by the reason from the facts of consciousness, and in this way we may know God just as we know any other external thing ; to wit, by bringing together a phenomenal perception of him and an idea of him. i. Here, by Kant's own canon, we know God ; first, in an analytical judgment through the category of cause, and second, by a direct and simple cognition by means of a phenomenal and sensuous perception, and an idea, just as we cognize man or any other external object. God becomes thus an object of sense, and we cognize him as such through perception and ideas. 5. a. In still another respect God may become manifest to the mind as a phenomenon, even where the effect which he has produced and created is not taken as his likeness or his phenomenal embodiment. God actually appears to human apprehension in his own proper person. For illustration, take an indenture, i. e., a parchment, on which was written in olden times an agreement or contract in full, and which, when com- plete, was cut through the centre in an irregular manner, say like the teeth of a saw, or otherwise, so that each party might have half of it for security. On bringing the fractional part, and showing that it was the precise counterpart of that which the other party had, and placing them together, and' showing that they actually fit each other, and that thus the writing can be read, the validity of both and of the contract as a bona fide transaction are shown. b. Just so man, the created personal soul, and God, the absolute, personal Creator, mark off each other. Man as a created person we have in ourselves as one part of the indenture ; God the absolute per- sonal Creator is the other part of the indenture, and they correspond each to the other. As the holder of the one part of parchment' could always tell the precise shape of the other part, when looking at his own, so we, having in our own person man as a begun and ci*eated personal existence, can look upon it and know what the absolute and personal _ Creator is, and must be, in order to be able to create man ; for while man cannot be said to be cut out of God, yet he partakes of the divine nature, and is moulded into the image of God. If, therefore, man, with his free, affectional, rational, ethical, and created nature, is present to our intelligence, he will be to us the begun and the created, the counterpart THE INTELLECT. 511 of God the beginner and the creator, who is himself also a free, affec- tional, rational, and ethical personality. c. A still more palpable illustration of God's actual and phenomenal presence in the world we find in the following- view ; viz. : — 6. a. Looking- upon a picture, you see a grass plat with sheep, cattle, birds, and walks, and fence, and also two tall, irregular trees rising in the air. At first nothing more attracts your attention ; indeed, you might see it a thousand times, nay, for a lifetime, and die seeing nothing more; nor would your intelligence or your vision be at fault. But some one who knows beforehand, taking up the picture, calls your attention to the figure between the ti'ees ; at first you can see nothing but blank space ; at length your mind substitutes the background for the foreground, and the foreground for the background, and the blank space, between the ti'ees, which was background before, becomes foreground now, and the trees, which were foreground, become background, and you discern that the space between the trees is in the shape of the face and figure of a man — in a moment you see that it is in the likeness of Napoleon Bona- parte. b. After you have once made this substitution and discovery, you can never look upon the scene without beholding the well-known head and figure ; that which was before blank space in the background is now filled with an intelligent form and face, and has become foreground, while the trees, and ro'eks, and grass plat, and animals, and birds, have fallen back and become background. Thus all is changed. Behold here an image of the whole universe. c. • Men, in their blindness, look only on the finite, and say, as did Bonaparte's astronomer, " We have .searched the whole universe with a telescope, and found no God in it," when the fact is, they have looked only at the finite, putting it in the foreground, and calling the background nothing ; while all the time that background is the absolute and personal God, whose countenance, whose external power and Godhead, are clearly seen, "being understood," says the philosopher Paul, " by the things that are made." (It is clue to the great brain of Bonaparte to say that he rebuked the poor intelligence of his savans, who could see in the spirit of man no more than in the brute life of a horse, and in the make and destiny of man no power above the blind force of nature.) d. Take the whole finite including man, for background, and God at once appears, in full and bold relief, to mortal apprehension, and thus we have God and the absolute as a phenomenon in the universe perceived by our sense. Applying to this phenomenon of God the idea of God, or the absolute, we cognize God as we cognize man, or any other external and tangible object in nature. e. The absolute is, as the atmosphere of air, and light, and the force 512 AUTOLOGY. of gravitation, combined in an all surrounding 1 and pervading element, in which nature, animals, and men all live, and move, and have their being. The earth, the sea, the sky, with all their shapes, forces, growths, lives, and inhabitants, appear in these elements, combined in one all surround- ing, and pervading, and revealing, and sustaining power. And these all show in some sort what these powers are. f. So the absolute God creates, produces, bears up, sustains all, and fills all things ; and of all things which the absolute produces and sus- tains, nothing is so significant of himself, nothing so like himself, as man. The true absolute is a person, having essential activity, essential in- telligence, essential individuality, essential self-law, essential liberty, essential will. This will is essential substance, producing from its own elements, a'nd sustaining in inherence in itself the qualities of affections in all their elemental forms, as desirefulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, l'everentialness, which manifest themselves in determinate forms in action. • g. This substance also produces and holds in inherence the quality of intellect, with its consciousness, reason, and sense ; and also the quality of conscience, with its discernment of moral differences, and its enforcing of obligation to regard them. And thus is the whole complete, rounded up, and perfected in one absolute personality; a personality self-existent, a personality all-sufficient, absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute, self- sustaining, self-poised, self-mastering, and master of all, — absolute in freedom, absolute in affection, absolute in knowledge, absolute in ethics, absolute in power, — all power of will, affections, intellect, conscience, and of a living personal cause. h. This absolute personality has made man in his own image of will, affection, intellect, and conscience; his own image of a free, affec- tional, rational, and ethical personality. This is a direct image of God, as an artist would paint his own likeness on canvas or chisel it in mar- ble. Man is a miniature picture, a clay statuette of God, when we look upon him as an object before us. But when we look upon man as' an effect of a cause, then we see that he is the converse image of his cause, as the image on the wax is the converse image of the stamp, while it is the direct image of the figure stamped. i. It is this indirect image of God of which we here desire to speak. This it is which is the finite background upon which the Creator is shaped and becomes visible. It is the human personality which is the converse image and embodiment of God, and which is the background on which and from which the eternal power and Godhead of God are clearly seen, and by which they are understood and recognized ; and thus can, and thus does, the absolute show itself to hum$,n apprehension. j. In this manner the absolutely infinite and the infinitely absolute THE INTELLECT. 513 is manifest to man's perception, and is seen as well as inferred ; manifest to sense as well as comprehended by- the reason. Is it still asked how the absolute, personal God is seen and manifested to human sense and con- sciousness ? the reply is, In precisely the same way that the human soul is manifested to human sense and human consciousness: • ■ k. The human consciousness sees, feels, knows, and experiences all the shape, figure, feature, mechanism, structure, and working of the whole human personality; and in thus going round and tracing the lineaments of humanity as the background, it is tracing the lineaments of God, the absolute personality, which is thus limned and stands out in the foreground. I. Then by the same consciousness, reason, and sense (by which we know ourselves, as will, affections, intellect, 'and conscience, — as a free, self-conscious, rational, affectional, and ethical personalit} 7 , — as a begun .and finite personality, — and demonstrate ourselves as such) : — by that same means, and with that same certainty of consciousness, reason, and experiment of the sense, we know and cognize God — the absolute per- sonality, which caused, created, produced, and ever sustains this human personality. The human personality is thus the converse image or the background of the absolute personality who created it, while it is the direct image of itself, when the absolute is put for the background. m. And when the consciousness feels along, the lineaments of the human personality in all its faculties, it "feels," also, "after" God, and finds him in distinguishing and cognizing humanity, as a picture is known only by separating it from its background, and a background only by separating it from the picture ; and a stamped figure is known only by separating it from its mould or stamp ; each, in both cases, being the converse of the other. n. Thus " is God " (as Paul says in his noble and philosophic, as well as evangelical and inspired, speech at Mars' Hill) "not far from every one of us ; " and so in point is the speech of the apostle that it may here be transcribed at length. He says, " Yc men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious [i. e., you put the image of man in the foreground, and call him God ; and not being satisfied with any image you have made, you erect an altar to the unknown God]. "For as I passed by and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this inscription, ' To the unknown God.' Whom, therefore, ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you. God, that made the world and all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands, neither is worshipped with men's hands, as though he needed anything, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; and hath made of one blood all nations of men, for to dwell on all the face of the earth ; and hath determined the times before appointed, 65 514 . AUTOLOGY. and the bounds of their habitation ; that they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and find him, though he be not far from every one of us : for in him we live, and move, and have our being ; as certain also of your own poets have said, ' For we are also his off- spring.' Forasmuch, then, as we are the offspring of God, we ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold, or silver, or stone, graven by art and man's device." That is, thfiy placed man in the foreground, and God in the background, and hence "worshipped and served the creat- ure more than the Creator, who is blessed forever." 0. Now, here it is proved that men, if they should seek after God, and feel after him, might find him ; for he is not far from every one of us, and if we know humanity aright, we thereby know God. The celebrated motto of the Grecian sage, "Know thyself," means more, perhaps, than even the deep significance which he gave it ; for while to know one's self is the greatest wisdom, that wisdom is enhanced when we. consider that thereby we know God also, for to know ourselves is to know ,God ; to know the human personality is to know the divine and absolute per- sonality, for each is the counterpart of the other. God throws up humanity and nature, and time and space, all causes and all effects, and all modes of being, from the centre of his own eternal and absolute, self- existent and all-creative, all-knowing and self-active, as free, affectional, ethical and personal and almighty being. As. the ocean throws up its waves, yet itself is ever the same, so God creates and rules, yet is ever the same, calm, pure, eternal, absolute, though he creates and rules in the exercise of freedom and intelligence, equity and love. p. We know God as we do the ocean, by its shores and islands, and seas and waves t and not because we can measure its mass, or fathom its profound depths. 1. a. We now come to the category of mode. Whatever may have matter and form, may, of course, exist, and be perceived and compre- hended ; and on the statement of such a thing, the reason applies to it at once its idea of the possible, and affirms that it is possible. 6. To whatsoever has matter and form, the reason applies its idea, and affirms that it actually exists. To whatever is perceived to be insepa- rable from anything actually existing, the reason applies its idea of the necessary, and pronounces it such ; and for all these there are, of course, phenomenal objects. F. Conclusion. 8. a. We have now gone over again the leading .categories as the means of cognition, and we find their work real and reliable, giving true and actual intelligence. The reason applies the ideas which it forms from the facts of consciousness to the objects of the external world, and THE INTELLECT. 515 cognizes them. ' Consciousness is able alone to give to the reason com- plete cognition of objects; i. e., internal and subjective objects: the reason has, therefore, no cognizing acts to perform with regard to them, but only to form ideas from them as objects already known. b. Perception, on the contrary, only brings the reason into contact ■with unknown objects, and the reason is obliged to cognize them by applying to them the ideas which it already has, and which it formed from the subjective facts which consciousness furnished to it. Indeed, it could not cognize the objects which perception brings before it with- out those ideas; they are its stock of knowledge with which it is quali- fied to cognize new and unknown objects brought before it by the perceptive facult}'. c. The difference, then, between forming an idea and cognizing an object may here be easily seen. The reason forms its ideas upon the complete knowledge of subjective facts which the consciousness affords it; it cognizes by applying the ideas thus acquired to the unknown object which the perceptive faculty brings before it. The reason with its ideas, and the perceptive faculty with its sense apparatus, are thus able to perform, with regard to the outward objects, the same act of cognition which the consciousness alone is able to perform in cognizing facts within itself. d. And here we see that the cognitive reason is not another faculty distinct from the intuitive reason, but that the reason which cognizes external objects is the same intuitive reason which forms ideas, and which, having educated and qualified itself by forming for itself ideas from the facts of consciousness, now coguizes external objects through the apparatus of the sense. e. It is, then, not a less, but rather a greater, certainly a better edu- cated faculty that cognizes external objects through the sense, than that which forms ideas from the facts of consciousness ; or, plainly, it is the same faculty in greater maturity of qualifications. 9. a. And here it may properly be observed, with regard to this act of cognition, by means of noting the steps of perception, beginning in unity, or a unit, and continuing in plurality, and ending in a totality, and in thus noting, actually applying the idea of a quantity to the percep- tion of quantity, or of substance to substance, cause to cause, quality to quality, and thus cognizing them, that it has been said that it is an act of judgment, and that it is not the work of the reason, but of the understanding — a faculty distket from and inferior to the reason, whose office it is to go between the reason and the sense, and connect the idea of the former with the perception of the latter, thus giving cognition of the external object. 6. But from what we have just seen there appears to be no ground 516 AUTOLOGY. for such an increase of the faculties, and no work for it to do ; the whole act and work of cognizing- is complete without it. As, for in- stance, the same reason that forms the idea of a rod square, or quantity, must note the steps of the perceptive faculty in measuring' the rod square, as we have seen, or there could be no conscious unity between the idea and the perception. But if the reason, which forms the idea, notes also the steps that measure the rod square, and in measuring and noting the steps around the square, applies to it its idea of a square, and thus cognizes it as a square, then there is a perfect and conscious unity and identity of the action of the reason in the idea and the perception, and in the application of the idea to the perception in the act of cognition. c. This being done, there is nothing left for the understanding, as held by Kant, Coleridge, and others, to do ; the cognition is not only complete, but it is manifest that no other faculty could do this act; no other faculty than the reason could make this coguition of an external object through the sense. The reason grasps its own idea and its own perception, and joins them, in one conscious act, thus making cognition, and no other faculty could do this. d. The invention of the faculty of the understanding is not only un- necessary, but if invented, would be incompetent to the act, or any act of cognition ; it would disjoin, and not connect, the sense and the reason. The understanding, therefore, as a faculty has in reality, no use or being, and is neither a fact nor a want of the human mind. So much for the cognition of quantity. e. We now take up the category of quality, and find that as the reason cognizes the quantity of an object by an idea and a percep- tion united in one act, so also it cognizes the quality of an object in like manner, and without the need of any other faculty save the sense. Moreover, what is true of these two categories is true also of the rest ; viz., those of relation and mode. We find the same unity of action be- tween the reason and the sense, the idea and the phenomena, and alsp that the reason alone is both sufficient and indispensable in order to any act of cognition under these categories, and that no such faculty as the understanding can either exist or be used with them. /. The cognitive faculty is now complete and capable of going out in quest of knowledge. Other ideas and conceptions it Will have as it advances in knowledge ; but with the primitive ideas of the reason formed from the facts of consciousness, it is fully prepared to begin to cognize external objects ; and thus do the categories and the sense perceptions give knowledge, and in this manner do the reason and the sense co-operate in cognizing external objects. In this way are all external things known. 10. a. When, in this way,. knowledge and facts are gained, then may THE INTELLECT. 511 the reason form yet more ideas and classifications, with which to cog- nize more minutely, and more fully, objects that may be brought before it ; that is, it may form conceptions of individual things, and then, by classifying them, form ideas of the genus, or a more. general conception of these things. We may have a conception of species and an idea, or more comprehensive conception of a genus. b. We here conclude this survey of the operations of the reason in cognizing external objects. This is the great act of knowing or inter- preting the unknown by the known. The ideas of the reason are the language of the soul, the mother tongue of the soul. With these it is prepared to know all things, and to translate all things into its own language. c. The categories are the soul's dictionary ; in them it finds the nature and meaning of all things, and it cognizes all things in the first instance by translating them into this language. The reason is first the great Dictionary-maker, and then the great Interpreter of all external things ; — it makes its dictionary from the facts of consciousness, and then with it interprets the facts of sense. Having found that believing was the first, perception the second, and cognition the third operation of the reason in knowing external things, we now come to the fourth ; viz., conceiving. SECT. IV. THE REASON CONCEIVES. a. The next operation of the reason, after cognizing, is that of con- ceiving. An idea is formed from a faot of consciousness before there can be a cognition, as we have already seen. There must, on the con- trary, always be the cognition of an external object before there can be a conception of that object. b. What is a conception of an object? A conception of a thing is a grouping in the mind of the identifying characteristics of that individual thing. It is, consequently, always particular, peculiar, and singular. It is always formed from a particular thing, after that particular thing has been cognized by due process of cognition. c. But has the mind no' conception formed from the original facts of consciousness ? To this it is replied, that the reason forms ideas from the facts of consciousness, but does not form conceptions from them ; not because it cannot, but because it is not necessary. Concep- tions are useful only when the facts of which they are the conception are absent ; but the facts of consciousness are always present ; therefore conceptions of them are unnecessary. A present fact always supersedes the conception of that fact, and always subserves all the purposes and uses in cognizing and remembering which the conception could subserve. d. A present fact is both a conception and a fact, and, as such, is, to 518 AUTOLOGY. the extent of its nature and scope, a means of knowing and remember- ing-, just as an idea and a conception are. There are, then, no concep- tions of the original facts of consciousness, because they are not needed. Why use the light of a candle when the sun shines ? Why use the con- ception of a fact when you have the fact itsolf ? e. Yet the reason could, of course, if necessary, form conceptions of the first facts of consciousness ; but these original facts of conscious- ness are particular facts, and, as such, would, of course, give particular conceptions ; but as particular conceptions are not capable of cognizing all things, the reason rises above them, and forms from the facts of con- sciousness universal and necessary ideas, with which we cognize what- ever is bi'ought before us, to the extent of their universal and necessary properties. f. The peculiar, and particular, and specific, and original facts of con- sciousness are all useful, and may be used in cognizing other specific and particular things, so far as they are applicable. But to the great world of things they are not applicable, and the universal and neces- sary ideas have to be employed to bring the objects into cognition, where they ma}' become themselves the objects of close examination, so that the reason may form from them specific conceptions. Of every object cognized, therefore, a specific conception is formed ; that concep- tion is formed in the act of a completed cognition, and is passed into the consciousness, which holds it as it holds the primary fact upon which the original idea with which it was cognized was formed. g. This specific and peculiar conception of a particular thing holds the same and as inseparable a connection with the original fact of conscious- ness as does the original idea formed from it ; and thus it becomes a fact in the mind's furniture, just as original ideas and facts are, and is held in the same living consciousness. h. When, by the sense, the reason perceives an external object, and is thus made aware of its presence, then by applying an idea to it, and interpreting and translating it by an idea, it cognizes that object. i. By means of this act of cognizing an object, and simultaneously with it, goes on the operation of forming a conception of it. And as the reason applies, on one hand, its original idea to the fact of the senses, in order to cognize it, so it applies at the same time, on the other hand, the new conception of the external object thus formed to the original fact of consciousness from which the idea was formed ; and this it does in order to identify and prove the correctness of its application of the idea to the external fact. If the idea moulded from the fact of consciousness so contains the new fact of objective experience to which it is applied as clearly to cognize it, then, certainly, the conception formed by the reason of this fact ought to receive, and intelligently contain, the THE INTELLECT. 619 original fact of consciousness from which the idea was formed ; and if it does, then is the cognition found to be perfect. The conception will of course have its superadded peculiarities. j. Indeed, no cognition is complete until this full work is done ; vie., that of applying an original idea of the reason, formed from the facts of consciousness, to the fact of the senses; and then that of re-applying the conception of the new fact thus cognized to the original fact of con- sciousness,, where all the knowing began in the first instance. ■ k. The conception of an external thing is, of course, more explicit and particular than the original idea by which the fact was cognized, and less so than the fact itself; yet it applies directly to the original fact of consciousness, and becomes its own conception. Indeed, we find that in the cognition of new facts, and in forming conceptions from them; the original facts and ideas grow'and transform themselves into the new ones, so that the conception of the particular fact comes to be the conception of the corresponding original fact of consciousness, and so is held by the consciousness in the mind in the same way that original facts and ideas are ; and thus conceptions increase as knowl- edge increases, and multiply forever, as the objects of knowledge mul- tiply, and all are held as they are first formed by the same. original fac- ulties of reason and consciousness, and precisely as the first facts, and first conceptions, and the first ideas of the mind are held, in the living reason and the living consciousness. I. Thus the reason, after being qualified with ideas and the instru- ments of the sense, first believes, then perceives, then cognizes, then conceives external objects. At the first it had consciousness of primary facts, then the reason formed from these facts universal and necessary ideas, then it was armed with instruments of sense. Then, being thus qualified and equipped, it first believed, then perceived, then cognized, and then (as we have just seen in this chapter) it conceived or formed conceptions of the objects thus perceived and cognized, and passed those conceptions over to the original facts and ideas of consciousness, to be held by them forever in the consciousness. m. Thus we see that the primary facts of consciousness are the first springs of all our knowledge, and not only the basis of all our original ideas which are universal and necessary, but also that they are the tests of conceptions, and constitute a kind of nature's system of. mnemonics for reclaiming them.. They are the things known already in the mind, and are ever kept fresh in cognition by the necessary activity of the consciousness and the reason. n. Why we never forget a primary fact is because that fact is the mind itself, and hence is ever in the consciousness, and cannot die out of it, only as the mind itself dies. Just so with our original ideas 520 AUTOLOGY. formed from these facts by the reason ; they are always necessarily in the consciousness, as the necessary affirmations of the reason ; and just so are the conceptions which Ave form of external objects in the act of' cognizing them the necessary affirmations of the 'reason, in relation both to the objects themselves and also in relation to the original facts of consciousness; and thus they are also held by the consciousness in perpetual knowledge, even as are the original facts and ideas, of them- selves. o. Now we cognize the unknown by the known ; that is, by applying the known facts, conceptions, and ideas of consciousness and the reason, to the objects of sense : so also we remember by applying the known con- ceptions of external objects, which we have already found and laid up in the consciousness, to the facts and the objects of a former cogni- tion. The things which we know, which we cannot forget, are the means of knowing the things which are new, and also those which have passed out of mind. The things already known with which we recall and remember, are those facts, cognitions, and conceptions of objects, and of our having known them before, which have been already ac- quired, and passed into the living consciousness, with those primary facts and original ideas which are given and formed by the conscious- ness and reason, and held perpetually in the consciousness as a part of its own being and life. p. With these acquired conceptions of external objects, and of, the fact that we have seen them before, joined by the consciousness to its own original facts and ideas, we remember or re-cognize ; that is, cognize pver again what we have cognized before : this is remembering both in its generic and in its specific sense. (See next section.) More- over, by forming conceptions thus of external objects, which are cog- nized by the combined operation of reason and sense, we add to our stock of conceptions for cognizing other objects, that is, homogeneous objects, though such as differ from those from which the conceptions are formed. q. And still further, as cognitions multiply, conceptions seem to be- gin to approach ideas ; that is, we pass from the conceptions of mere individual things as species, to that of genus, order, and class. And as a conception of an individual thing is a grouping of its characteris- tics, so a conception of a class, genus, or order, is a grouping together of those fewer characteristics which as a class, genus, or order, they hold in common, and which distinguish them as such. r. Now, these conceptions also a*c passed into the mind, and become, in turn, the means of cognizing external objects ; and thus the power of the mind is ever increasing. By increasing its number and variety of conceptions, the mind is ever increasing its ability to cognize more and THE INTELLECT. 521 more. And thus it may go on increasing in conception, and in oppor- tunities to know, forever. The original facts and ideas of the mind are the original cognitive and mnemonical powers, by which new conceptions are both acquired and retained, and are at once the capability of both knowing and remembering. SECT. V. THE REASON REMEMBERS. A. What is remembering f a. Remembering is retaining and recalling our past knowledge. How do we retain, and how do we recall, past knowledge ? Precisely as we obtained it at the first ; viz., by bringing together a conception of it and a phenomenon of it. This question, however, can be best an- swered and more fully explained by recurring to our method of acquir- ing knowledge at the first. > b. Our knowledge begins in consciousness. First, we are conscious of the primary facts of our being. Secondly, that consciousness of these facts becomes equivalent to a conception of them by reason of its own simple continuance. Thirdly, the reason forms necessary and uni- versal ideas from the then primary facts of consciousness. Fourthly, 'the mind takes on body and the sense, consisting of physical resistance and the five senses. Now, with this apparatus of the sense, and with these original ideas of the reason, and the facts and conceptions of con- sciousness, the mind is prepared to cognize external objects. An object is brought before the mind by perception through the senses ; the reason applies to it an idea, anc\ thereby translates and interprets it, and thus it is cognized. In this way the mind acquires knowledge. o. Then it advances and enlarges that knowledge by forming concep- tions of external objects, and with them cognizes or re-cognizes the ob- jects from which they are formed not only, but also all kindred and homogeneous objects; and thus it is fully prepared to go "on in this way, adding to its cognitions and its conceptions forever and ever; — this is acquiring knowledge. d. What, then, is retaining, and what is recalling knowledge ? If this is knowing, what is remembering? The reply is, that, if acquiring knowledge consists in cognizing the phenomena of the sense by the idea of the reason, and then in forming conceptions of other phenomena, and cognizing other facts with them, then, clearly, remembering consists in retaining the conceptions, and in recalling the cognitions thus made. e. The questions, then, will be, first, Is retaining conceptions an act of memory, or simply an effort of consciousness ? and secondly, Is the recalling of a past cognition an act of remembering, or of simple cogni- tion ? In seeking the answers to these inquiries, and in ascertaining 522 AUTOLOGY. what remembering is, we shall, first, examine more fully the act of re- membering iti relation to, and in comparison with, the act of cognition. Secondly, we shall show how we remember ; that is, what are the marks, signs, symbols, embodiments, or phenomena of a former act of knowing, and how such embodiment, sign, mark, or phenomena, of a former act of knowing, are cognized by the conceptions of such act of knowing, already formed and retained in the mind. Thirdly, we shall show how conceptions of external objects are retained in the mind. f. And from all this it will appear, that, so far as remembering con- sists of retaining conceptions in the mind, it is identical with cons 'ious- ness ; and that, so far as remembering consists in recalling a past ( bject or act of knowing, it is identical with simple cognition, and thus that we remember by the same faculties, and in the same way, that we know at all. B. The relation of remembering to cognizing. a. What is remembering ? Historically, it is this : a perception comes before the mind, and the reason, in noting it, applies to it its own idea, and thus cognizes it. The reason here uses one of the primary ideas, which is formed from some of the primary facts of consciousness, in cognizing this object. This is simple cognition. But remembering is something more than this act of simple cognition ; it is cognizing an object by our primary ideas, and by the conception which we formed of. the object when we cognized it, and still again by our conception of the fact that we have before cognized it. b. Now, this kind and this extent of cognizing is remembering ; and it will be seen that remembering is only an enlarged cognition, only knowing more about an object than we knew by the first act of cognition. We here see that without these acquired conceptions with which to re- cognize both the objects from which they are formed, and other homogeneous objects, and without these conceptions of past acts of knowledge, that is, of having cognized the object before, with which to cognize the phenomena of the objects, or the mark or sign of the fact of our having cognized the object before, no recognition could be made ; i. e., there could be no remembering, and no progress in knowl- edge could be reached beyond the very first and simplest knowledge of things. c. The primary facts and conceptions of consciousness, and the pri- mary ideas of the reason formed from the facts of consciousness, help us to cognize, in the first instance ; but it is our acquired conceptions of external objects, that is, the conceptions which we form of objects cog- nized through the sense both of the object itself, and of the fact that we have known it, by which our knowledge is extended beyond these TIIE INTELLECT. 523 limits ; and a man is intelligent, learned, and competent, just in propor- tion as lie has his mind furnished with these acquired conceptions, with which to recall, comprehend, and interpret whatever is brought before it as an object of knowledge. d. For instance, I may cognize the perception of an object under the •idea of quantity, of quality, of relation, or of mode ; but with these bare and primary ideas I should not know much about it. But let me add to my capability of knowing it, my acquired conception of what the quan- tity is, as wood or stone ; what its qualities are, as roundness, square- ness, hardness, softness, redness, &c. ; what its relation is, as planned and built by some architect; what its mode of being is, as possible, actual, or necessary ; and as to time, that it was built three centuries ago; and as to space, that it stands in ancient Rome, and that I have seen it there, — and it will appear that I have vastly more conceptions with which to cognize or interpret the thing which I perceive than the original and simple facts, conceptions, and ideas of the consciousness and reason gave me. e. Now, this is remembering, in contradistinction from cognition. While cognition is knowing simply to the extent of our primary facts, conceptions, and ideas, remembering is knowing, or cognizing, to the ex- tent of our primary facts, conceptions, and ideas, and also to the extent of all our acquired conceptions or knowledge, both of the object and of the fact of our having seen or known it. Indeed, we could not cog- nize at all, beyond our primary idea, without the aid of our acquired conceptions, or knowledge, both of the object and of the fact of our having known it before. We must. have the knowledge of our acquired conceptions in order to know, just as in the case of translating a word from one language into another, we must know or remember our own tongue before we can render another into it, or cognize it. f. And hence we see how nearly knowing and remembering are allied, if indeed they are not identical, as we believe they are ; for knowing a thing is simply knowing it, and remembering is simply knowing that we knew it. We cease to wonder that Plato called primary ideas memories; for remembering is simply knowing, or cognizing, only that it is a little more extended knowing than when we employ only the primary ideas in cognition : rather it is cognizing by an acquired conception of the ob- ject, and a conception of having known the object, in addition to cog- nizing the object by an original idea. g. Memory is thus, plainly, an enlarged cognition ; that is, in simply cognizing an object, at the first I cognize nothing but the object, and that only so far as an original and universal idea of the reason will en- able me to. In remembering, we cognize all this, and all which the 524 AUTOLOGY. conception of the object will give, and also the fact that we have before cognized the object. h. Original ideas seemed to Plato like memories of facts which he had seen somewhere, but which are now absent; and they seemed thus for the good reason that they are ideas truly of real facts which exist some- where ; and because he failed to trace them to facts of consciousness' then actually existing in his own, and in all human minds, as he ought to have done, he fancied that he had seen these facts in some pre-existent state ; and that the original ideas, which he had in his mind, and which all minds have, were simply memories of those, absent facts of an anterior life. But this was a gratuitous and far-fetched origin to assign to the well-known ideas of the mind. i. The true origin of our ideas lies much nearer, as we have already shown — even in the primary facts of consciousness, the first facts of our being. If, indeed, there were no such facts out of which the reason could form its primary ideas, they must be either called innate, or crea- tions of the reason, or ascribed to facts which the soul has seen some- where, in some pre-existent state, as Plato did. We have given the true origin of ideas, which is neither in the creative power of the reason, nor in some pre-existen.t state, nor in the gift of nature, according to the doctrine that they are born with the mind, i. e., innate ideas, but in the original facts of consciousness. Yet Plato very naturally likened them to memories, which in so many particulars they resemble, as do all kinds of cognitions. We shall yet see that they are all the same act of the mind. SECT. V. THE REASON REMEMBERS. C. How does the reason remember? a. I. The reply to this question is, that the reason remembers by cog- nizing the phenomenal embodiment, sign, or mark of a former object and act of cognition ; and that it cognizes this act of a former cognition by means of bringing together a conception of this former act of cognition and the phenomena, sign, mark, or embodiment of it, and interpreting the latter by the former. b. As we never cognize without the phenomenal presence of the ob- ject, so do we never remember without the phenomenal presence of the object, or some mark, sign, embodiment, name, or characteristic of the object remembered ; and when the phenonfenal presence of the object is produced, then do we always infallibly remember the object. If, when a phenomenal sign of an object is presented to us, we do not remember the object, the reason is, that the one peculiar sign by which we had originally individualized the object is not presented to us ; when, how- TIIE INTELLECT. 525 ever, the right phenomenal form of an object is actually presented, then do we always remember and identify it as the object we have known before. c. But, in answering this question more fully, we must recall the fact that remembering, as the retaining of a conception, is identical with consciousness ; so also here, remembering, as it consists in finding the embodiment, phenomena, sign, or mark of a former cognition, is identical with cognizing; and that they differ, not in nature, but only as to the objects with regard to which they act. Wc cognise an object, we re- member that we have cognized it. This cognition is effected just as any other cognition is ; viz., by a conception already in the mind and a sen- suous perception then present. The cognition in both cases consists in applying the conception to the perception, or translating the latter by the former. cl. The only difference between the two acts of cognition is as to the thing cognized. The matter of the cognition is the substance and qual- ities of the object ; the subject-matter of remembering is the operation of the mind. The former is the thing known, the latter is the fact of our having known it. e. For illustration, a box of very superior and highly finished pen- knives is placed before me. They all so resemble each other that they can be distinguished only with the greatest, difficulty. I select one, and agree to buy it. My attention being suddenly called away, and fearing I may not be able to identify the knife I have chosen at another time, I mark it with a small cross upon the handle, and drop it in the pack with the rest. I am detained by some business, so that I cannot return for my knife until the next week. I then look over the package, and am utterly unable to distinguish the knives one from another, as I feared, until, at last, I find the one having my mark ; then I know it. I had perhaps repeatedly looked them all over, observed no difference in them, until at length I came to my mark on the handle ; by this I knew that I had had that knife before, and that it was the one I selected. /. Now, in this instance, cognizing and remembering are very clearly distinguished as to their objects; yet, assuredly, they are one and the same in the nature of their operations. We cognize the knife by its mechanism, contrivance, and material ; we remember that we have cog- nized that knife before, by means of the mark on the handle. It is cognizing in both cases ; in the one we cognize the phenomena of a knife, in the other we cognize the mark by which we know that we have seen that knife before. Now, this mark, as a mark, is simply a subject of cognition ; but as a sign of my having seen it before, it is a subject of memory. g. In the one case I cognize the knife ; in the other I cognize the mark 526 AUTOLOGY. which I have made upon it. The former is the phenomenon of the knife ; the latter is the phenomenon of my having seen it before. The knife has handle, blade, size, shape, color, rivets, and a groove for the blade to shut into ; these denote the knife; but the mental act of having cognized the knife before has this cross as a phenomenal mark. Just as a travel- ler, who climbs to the summit of some precipitous and lofty mountain peak and cuts liis name there in the eternal rock, that name, so cut, will be simply a subject of cognition to the next traveller who climbs there ; but to him who cut it there, it will be a subject of memory. h. So with the athlete, who makes successive leaps to the utmost of his strength, and then, stretching his whole length of arm and body, reaches as far as possible and makes a mark. That mark is not only a subject of cognition as a mark, but it is also significant of the measure and limit of the speed, agility, stature, and power of the athlete. It denotes a mental and physical act : it is the phenomenal evidence of that act. Now, as the phenomenon of that athletic feat* that mai'k is a subject of memory, and not of simple and ordinary cognition. i. In what, then, does remembering differ from ordinary cognition ? Only in this ; in cognizing, simply, we know an object; in remembering we cognize the mark of our having known it. The subject-matter of the thing remembered is the only difference ; the mental act is the same in. both cases; viz., an act of cognition. In the case of common cog- nition wo cognize the object as an object, or the act as an act ; in re- membering we cognize the object as the phenomenon of a former act or event. It is therefore obvious that more is included in remembering than in cognizing, because there is more to know, and we know more. j. Again, in ordinary cognitions we only cognize the object before us; in memorial cognitions we cognize also the act that produced the object which is before us, and which we then cognized as a memorial object. In the case of ordinary cognition, I cognize a knife by its well-known constituents. In the case of remembering the knife, I cognize not only the knife, as a knife, and the mark by which I remember it, as a mark, but I cognize that mark also as the mark of my having seen, and known the knife before. k. Thus, while in ordinary cognitions we cognize the object as an object, in memorial cognitions we cognize the act that produced that object. In ordinary cognition we cognize the effect ; viz., the mark as a mark simply ; in memorial cognition we cognize the cause of that effect; viz., the mark, not simply as a mark, but as the mark of the mental act of having known the knife before. I. The same mark is here the phenomenal embodiment of both cause and effect, and the case is precisely similar to what we have before shown in the chapter on Cognition, where it was made to appear that THE INTELLECT. 527 the same phenomenon was the representation of both cause and effect in all cases ; as the figure made by a stamp upon soft wax was the phe- nomenal representation of both cause and effect equally true of both ; so here the mark on the knife, and that of the traveller on the mountain peak, and that of the athlete on the arena, are each and all marks that denote both cause and effect. The marks as marks are an effect ; the marks as mental efforts, and as denoting an act of the person, are the phenomena of cause, the cause that produced them. m. Thus what is true in one department of the mind is true in all departments of the mind ; the same object is a mark of cognition in both cases, and in both cases the act of the mind is the same ; i. e., simply an act of cognition. In order to the knowing of an external object there must be first an idea of the knowable in the mind ; then there must be the perception of the external object by means of the sense; and then the reason cognizes the object by interpreting the exter- nal perception by the internal idea ; and precisely the same conditions and the same operations are requisite in order to remembering. There can be no remembering without first an idea in the mind of that which is rememberable, and then a perception of the phenomenal rep- resentation, sign, or embodiment of the act or event to be remem- bered. As we could never know any external object if wo could not have first an idea, and then an external perception of the object, just so we could never remember anything without first having an idea of it in the mind, and then a phenomenal perception of it, be that thing what it may. II. An object or event is remembered only by its identifying mark. a. It must be observed, in any case of remembering an- object or event, that I remember it ordy when that part, view, or characteristic of it which is the identifying mark of my having seen, known, or ex- perienced it before, is presented to me ; and that when that identifying mark is presented, then I do remember that I have seen it before ; and this remembering that I have seen it before is but cognizing the identi- fying mark of- my having seen it before. b. This act of cognizing the identifying mark of my having seen the object before is precisely like my act of cognizing it at the first, and like any other act of cognizing, which I have ever done or can do. What did I do in my first act of cognizing an object ? I brought the phenomenal characteristics of the thing under my conception of it. What have I done in remembering the thing ? I have brought before my mind, and under my idea and conception, both the phenomenal characteristics of the thing as an object, and also that peculiar characteristic of the thing which was to my mind the identifying mark of my having before seen 528 AUTOLOGY. it, and cognized it, i. e., by the conception of the identifying mark of my having seen it, I now re-cognize it, just as at the first I cognized the object as an object under its idea or conception. c. And thus it appears that all the difference between the act of knowing, or cognizing at the first, and my remembering, or cognizing, the second time, is this ; viz., in the second case, or that of remembering, I not only cognize a different thing, but I cognize more, and know more, than in the first. In the first instance I cognize only the object; in the second I cognize the object and also the identifying mark of my hav- ing cognized the object before ; and in both cases it is simply bringing a phenomenon of the senses under an idea or conception of it already in the mind, and in both cases cognizing that of which it is the identifying mark ; for the identifying mark of my having seen an object or event is phenomenal, and not merely mental, relational, or supersensual. Thus are cognizing and remembering the same. d. Now, what is this identifying mark of my having seen or known an object, or of my having experienced an event before? It is some- times'the shape of the thing, sometimes the place, sometimes the time, sometimes the circumstances of the thing, sometimes a mark that I put upon it. For instance, I see the picture of a face. I remark that I have seen it before. In this case the features, or some peculiarity in them, is the identifying mark that I have seen it before. But suppose I do not recognize it at all until some one tells me where I saw the person, or when ; I then remember the face as given' in the picture. In this case the where or the when is the identifying mark of my having seen the person. But suppose these do not enable me to recall it; then some one tells me that I saw the said person at such a time and place, and in company with such a third person : then I remember it and the picture. Now, this circumstance of the third person is the identif\ T ing mark of my having before seen the party whose picture is before me. . e. By this identifying mark is meant that which is the characteristic of the person and his surroundings which my mind took, in the first instance, as the embodiment and phenomena of the fact that I had seen him, and, consequently, when that characteristic is brought before me again, I remember him ; i. e., I cognize it as the sensuous embodiment of my having seen and known the person before. f. Furthermore, let it be considered that all things are known to us as in time and space, and as having quality, quantity, relation, and mode, and either of these things may become the embodiment, or identifying mark, or phenomenal representation of my having seen or known the object before ; and that embodiment will be a particular thing under some one of these general heads or categories, just as my cognizing it at the first was bringing a particular thing under a general head. TIIE INTELLECT. 529 1st Illustration, a. A forester or a hunter, going through a thick and trackless wood, will blaze trees with an axe (that is, chip off a piece of them), or will break small limbs or sprigs of trees with his hand as he goes along, in order that he may find his way back. These cuts on the trees and these broken twigs are to him the embodiments and the identifying marks of his having been there before ; and by them he remembers that he has been there before, and knows or remembers the way back out of the woods, when otherwise he could not find his way out. b. This is a perfect illustration of what the mind does in remember- ing, in every case. It simply cognizes the identifying mark or embodi- ment of a past experience or knowledge, of a past cognition of the object ; and this is precisely like any other act of cognizing or know ing. It is bringing a phenomenon under a conception, and cognizing or translating it by that conception. The broken limb is the identifying mark that I have been there before ; by it I know that I have been • there before ; without it I should not know that I had been there before. c. So that particular thing in time, place, form, quantity, quality, relation, or mode, by which I remember an object, is the identifying mark of my having seen "it before, and of my past experience with re- gard to it ; and by it I cognize or remember it. We remember precisely as we cognize at the first; viz., the object is brought before us by the senses. 2d Illustration, a. We cognize an object — for instance, a horse ; we apply our conception of a horse to the phenomenal presence of a horse, and thus cognize it as a horse. After ten years the same horse is brought before us again, and we know not at first that we have ever seen it before. We have forgotten, as we say. But the person who shows us the horse points us to the fact, which we had not as yet noted, that the horse has a certain mark of a pigeon in the color of his hair on the flank, or a curious indentation .on the nose, or has naturally but three legs ; -at once I remember the horse, and that I have seen him before. Or if the horse has no such distinguishing mark, then it may be some circumstance of time, place, or event ; as, my birthday, the fourth of July, or election day, or the battle of Bunker Hill, on which I first saw the horse ; or some particular locality, as the sea-shore, the Alps, Niagara Falls, at which I first saw the horse, which will be the identifying mark of my having seen him, and by which, as we say, I remember him. b. But what, in fact, is done by bringing up these items of form, color, time, place, &c. ? Why, it is bringing up the phenomenal form of a past act of knowledge ; that is, it is bringing up that phenomenon of the horse by which I originally cognized him as a distinct individual horse. It is not awaking anything inside of my mind ; I did not remember 67 530 AUTOLOGY. it, only because the thing which I had seen was not fully before my senses, and we never remember, as we never cognize, without the pres- ence of the phenomenal object; i. e., that which to us stands for it. c. Hence cognizing and remembering are precisely the same kind of mental act. I may remember the characteristics of the horse by the place or time, or both ; or I may remember the time or place, or both, by the characteristics; the one controlling' thing to me is, what was that which I, in my own mind's apprehension, took for the individ- ualizing and identifying characteristics of the horse : it may have been one thing, it may have been another, as above ; but whatever it was, I can remember the horse only when that characteristic is presented to my mind. d. And now be it observed, it is no part of memory to bring up these characteristics by which the horse', is recognized or remembered ; that is the work of some person, or event, or operation, outside of the act of remembering ; just as, at the first, an object must be brought to us before the mind can cognize it, just so the same object must be brought to the mind again, and that, too, in those characteristics by which it was first grasped or cognized by the mind, and was then individualized by it, before it can be remembered : and then it can be remembered by these same characteristics, and identified as the object which was at the first seen and known. e. And here be it again observed, that the operation by which the mind remembers and identifies, in this last instance, is precisely the same as that by which it was at the first cognized and individualized. The bringing of the object before the mind in order to the mind's knowing it at the first, and the bringing of it before the mind in order to be remem- bered in the second, are the same known facts ; as in the first instance, it is not knowing, so, in the second, it is not remembering. /. It must be distinctly observed and particularly insisted upon that the thing to be remembered cannot at all be said to be present to the mind, and is not, in fact, before the mind until that especial character- istic of it by which the mind at first individualized it, and by which in remembering it identifies it, is placed before it ; and that the moment that that characteristic is before it, that moment it does remember it ; and it remembers it by cognizing that characteristic in precisely the same way in which it cognizes anything else. g. If I remember only the indentation, or notch, on a horse's nose, and not the time or place when or where I saw it, then that was the only thing by which at first I individualized the horse, and is now the only thing by which I identify him. It was the only thing by which I cog- nized the horse in the first instance, and it is now, consequently, the only thing by which I remember or recognize him. If it was the time or THE INTELLECT. 531 pfe.ce by which I at first individualized the horse, then these will be the only things by which afterwards I can recognize or remember him ; for certainly I cannot remember what I have not before known. 3d Illustration, a. For further illustration, take a poem. How do I remember a poem ? What is that phenomenal thing which I perceive by my senses, and by interpreting which by an idea already in the mind, I remember a poem, say " Childe Harold," "The Giaour," "Paradise Lost," or " Rape of the Lock." I reply that these very names them- selves are the phenomena which, by anterior ideas and conceptions of these poems, my mind translates into a remembrance of them. By this means I remember first that such poems exist; that is, that I have seen, read, or heard of them ; and, secondly, remember and repeat, if I have ever known the lines and sentiments of these poems. I am asked, " Do you know anything of ' Childe Harold ' ? " That name is the phenome- non to me, not only of the poem as a whole, and that I have seen and read it, and heard of it, but also of that which I know most and best about it; that I have not only cognized it, but have committed it to memory, and I repeat it as now from memory I write it. " O that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And, hating no one, love but only her." b. Or take the "Declaration «of Independence." How do I remem- ber it ? By the same means ; the name in my ear is the phenomenal rep- resentation of it, and I at once apply my conception of it to this name and remember it, and repeat, " When, in the course of human events, it be- comes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds which have connected them with another." c. But what is this being able to repeat poems or essays, or composi- tions of any kind ? Is it a peculiar sort of memory, or not different from being able to point out and identify any man whom we have seen before ? I have seen John Quincy Adams. I not only remember the fact, but I can describe his person, features, stature, and build. I can also give his mental pecularities, his literary style, and his presence, and his man- ner. Now, this is simply knowing him by heart, and repeating him as I would an essay or poem. Uh Illustration, a. The city of Venice is mentioned : the audible phenomenon of the name is immediately translated by my reason, by means of its idea of a city, and its conception of Venice as a particular city, and' I remember it. Furthermore, I draw a map of it, give the surrounding sea, the Grand Canal, the Rialto, the Church de Salute, the Ducal Palace, the two pillars, with the winged lion on the one and the statue of St. Theodore on the other, the Cathedral of St. Mark's, the 532 AUTOLOGY. Campanile, the public square, the distant hills, &c., &c. Thus I repeat Venice as I would a poem ; and these instances show that the mode of memory is the same ; that the difference between remembering that there is such a place as Venice, and that I have seen it, and remember- ing that there is such a poem as Childe Harold, and that I have read it, and in being able to draw a plan of the former, and repeat more or less of the latter, is only that of degree, and not at all of kind ; in both cases it is precisely the same in nature as cognition, differing only in this, that cognition is of the object itself in the first instance, while re- membering is both of the object and of the fact of my having before cognized it. b. In cognizing, I have the object before me or some phenomenal representation of it, as 'the name or a picture; but in both cases the operation of the mind is the same. In cognizing I translate a phenom- enal perception of an object into a cognition of it by means of an idea of it. In like manner I translate the phenomenal perception of the fact that I have seen an object before, into aremembrance of it. c. Still it is asked, " How do I, when I remember the first line of a poem, thereby remember the second?" The reply is, that the first word or line is the phenomenal representation of the thought and posi- tion of the second. When the first line in Byron's Hymn to the Ocean is heard, it will always, to him who has learned it, be the phenomenal representation of the thought and position of the second, thus : " Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll." This line is the phenomenal sign or mark of the next one ; viz., " Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain," and so on. d. It is asked, " Why, then, does not this line appear to him who reads it for the first time, or but carelessly many times, as the represen- tation of the next line also ? " The reply is, For the same reason that the words of this same first line would represent nothing at all to a Ger- man who knew not a word of English, or would represent very little to him who knew only one or two of the words, and guessed at the rest. In both cases the German would cognize all that he had the means of cognizing, or translating, which is the same thing. And just so with that other name for cognition ; viz., remembering. e. The man who had read three or four lines but carelessly would cognize or remember nothing beyond the line itself when he read it. The man who had read it repeatedly and with attention would cognize, or remember, on seeing or hearing the first line, much of the subject-mat- ter of the subsequent lines, while he who had thoroughly cognized these lines by oft-repeated and attentive reading, so that he could repeat them without the book, would on seeing this first line, or perhaps any other line of the poem, cognize (that is, remember) the whole poem by this line. THE INTELLECT. 533 Such a line would be to him the phenomenal embodiment of the whole poem, by which, and to which, applyiug his idea of the rest, he would repeat or cognize the whole of it. f. Still more clearly do we identify and remember poetry by the- flow of the rhythm, the ring of the rhyme, the harmony of the- numbers, or the significance of the sentiment, as in the contrast of the Fop and the Sage in the poem on Solitude. The Fop. " Plumed conceit himself surveying, Folly with her shadow playing, Purse-proud, elbowing insolence, Bloated empiric, puffed pretence, Noise that through a trumpet speaks, Laughter in loud peals that breaks, Intrusion of a fopling's face, Ignorant of time and place." The Sage. " Sage reflection, bent with years, Conscious virtue, void of fears, Muffled silence, wood-nymph shy, Meditation's piercing eye, Halcyon peace, on moss reclined, Retrospect, that scans the mind, Rapt, earth-gazing reverie, Blushing, artless modesty." TIere the quaintness of the style, the unexpectedness of the rhymes, the contrast of the characters, and the melancholic temperament and tone of the whole poem, all combine as the peculiar and identifying marks by which it is remembered. • III. The relation between the identifying mark and the act of memory, a. Will it still be insisted that the act of remembering consists in connecting the phenomenal mark of a former act of cognition with that act, so that it shall stand for that act of cognition, and that the whole mystery of memory lies in this subtile relation between the identifying mark and the act of the mind which it denotes ? We reply, that this relation between the identifying mark of a mental act and that act, is the same precisely as the relation between the phenomenal representa- tion of any thing and the cognition of that thing. Cognition consists in cognizing the relation between the phenomenal representation or sensu- ous appearance of an object, and the real and valid existence of that ob- ject, and memory is the same. ft. I remember that a scratch on a rock in the ledge of the shore means that I swam there. I scratched it there at the first, and cognized it then 534 AUTOLOGY. as a then present act at the time of scratching, signifying that I had just then swum to that shore. The connection between the mark and the intent is the same in both cases. Moreover, this connection is the same as the connection between the handle, blade, color, shape, mate- rial, &c, of the knife, and the idea of a knife already in the mind, with which I cognized it as a knife at first. c. As this pen in my hand traces the word conceived in my mind on this paper, so do all and any phenomenal representations answer to the thought of them in the mind. Especially so does the cross on the knife represent the fact of my having seen and chosen the knife before ; it is both a language and a sign. The connection is precisely the same as that between any phenomenon and its idea, or between sense and rea- son, or the perception of the sense and the cognitions of the reason, at any time, and with regard to any thing or any object. d. It is therefore clear that the only difference between remem- bering and cognizing, lies, not in the nature of the act, but in the things which are to be known and remembered. In the case of the for- ester who marks his way through the woods by breaking twigs or mark- ing the trees as he goes, these broken twigs and these cuts on the trees are the signs to him of his having been there before, and that that is the way out of the woods ; to another traveller they would be only the sign that that course along which he found them would lead him safely through the wood. e. Now, the same phenomena here serve two purposes : to the man who made them they are the phenomena by which he remembers ; to the man who only follows him, they are the phenomena by whieh he knows that somebody has been there before, and by which he cognizes the way through the wood. In both cases, however, the mental act is the. same. So the indentation on the horse's nose was originally one of the things by which the horse was individualized, that is, known. But ' in the case of remembering, it has become his identifying mark also. To the cognizer it is one thing, to the rememberer it is another thing ; it is also the phenomenal embodiment of -the fact that he has seen the horse before ; and thus, in every case, are cognizing and remembering identical as acts of the mind. IV. Wliat are the proper subjects of memory? a. It may be observed, first, that there are things which have no need- of memory. Whatsoever is a matter of consciousness proper, needs no memory to recall it ; for it is never out of mind. We need to remember only that whose phenomenal presence is gone from our mind. The conditions of remembering are the same as the conditions of cog- nizing : viz., the presence of the phenomenon of a thing to the sense, THE INTELLECT. 535 and the presence of an idea of it in the reason. When by any means the phenomenon or sensuous appearance of an object is brought before me, I at once cognize it by the original idea already in my mind ; so also when the phenomenon of my having known anything previously is by any means brought before me, I at once cognize or remember that phe- nomenon or sensuous appearance of the fact that I have known it be- fore, and this is remembering. b. Now, it is here manifest what it is that is a subject of memory, and what is not. In the first place, I need not to remember primary facts of consciousness, nor primary ideas formed upon them ; for they are always present in the consciousness and the reason, and never are lost or ab- sent from it. They are just as constantly present in the mind as the consciousness and the reason are themselves present in the mind. The mind, indeed, only exists while it is conscious that it is conscious ; so that to lose these primary facts and ideas would be to lose the mind itself. These, therefore, need no remembering ; for they are always present in the living mind and living consciousness, as the power of cognizing, remembering, and of all other acts of the mind ; nay, as the fact and evidence of the life and existence of the mind itself. c. They, then, are not the subject of memory any more than they are the ^subjects of cognition ; 'they are, in fact, the tools with which we both cognize and remember, and are not, therefore, the subject of either. They are things, as we have seen, already known before we begin either to know or remember, or perform any other act of external knowing. Neither are the constituents of a thing by which it is known and char- acterized subjects of memory, but subjects of ordinary cognition only. I am brought to the package of knives from which before I had selected and marked one. The constituents and characteristics of the knife are not subjects of memory, but simply of cognition. I cognize them as knives, I need no memory for that. But when I come to desire the identical knife which I had before chosen, then I need that something which we call memory; viz., I need to find the phenomenon or sensu- ous appearance of my having seen the knife before. I find that mark ; it is a small cross. Now, to cognize this as a mere cross is not to re- member ; it is simply to cognize, as at the first ; but to cognize it as the phenomenal appearance of my having seen and chosen that knife before, that is remembering. d. Now, as we have already shown, that cross is as legitimately the phenomenal appearance of my having seen the knife before, as the handle, blade, color, and shape are the phenomenal appearance that it is a knife at all ; and the connection between the cross and the fact that I have seen and chosen it before, for which it stands, is precisely the same as the connection between the appearance of the blade, handle, 536 AUTOLOGY. color, and shape of the knife, which are the phenomenal appearance of the knife and the conception of a knife. e. We remember, therefore, only those things whose phenomenal presence is withdrawn or forgotten after we have cognized them ; and, in regard to these, the act of remembering is precisely the same as the act of cognition, the only difference consisting in the objects which are the subject-matter of the two acts. We cognize that whose phenomenon is immediately before us. We remember that whose phenomenon is or may be withdrawn from us ; but we remember it by being brought into the presence of the phenomena, not of the object, but of the fact of our having seen or known it before ; as in the case of the mark on the knife handle ; and then we remember it by cognizing this mark in precisely the same way that we cognize any other object brought before us for the first time. f. We never remember original facts, or original conceptions, or origi- nal ideas, nor even the conception of external things, which are formed after we have cognized them, or in the act of cognizing them, and are wrought into the facts of consciousness. We do not remember the object brought before us, or the sign as such that we have seen and known it previously ; both these are cognized, and not remembered. The former act of having seen and known the object or event presented to us, is distinctly cognized by bringing together the sign that we have seen it be- fore and the conception of that act of seeing it before ; thus we remem- ber it, as it is said, but really cognize it ; for it is only cognition, after all. g. Cognition and remembering, therefore, differ only in the subject- matter upon which they operate ; viz., we cognize an object, we re-cog- nize the object and the fact that we have cognized it before ; the first is common cognition, the second is that cognition which we call remem- bering. The former takes place when the phenomena or sensuous appearance of the object are before us, the latter when the phenomena or sensuous appearance or symbol of the fact of our having previously seen or known the object are before us. SECT. V. THE REASON REMEMBERS. D. How are conceptions of external things retained in the mind? I. Are conceptions memories ? a. We have already seen that remembering reaches back to the act of cognition by means of ideas and conceptions ; that the thing remem- bered reaches back to the act of cognition by means of ideas and con- ceptions ; that the thing remembered is not only the object, but the fact that we have seen it before, and that this remembering, like cognizing, is bringing together the phenomena of a thing and the conception of a THE INTELLECT. 537 thing ; that we remember a thing 1 , therefore, by having- first a concep- tion of it, and a conception of the fact that we have seen it before, and then applying these conceptions to the phenomena of these objects or facts respectively. b. We have seen that we obtain these facts and conceptions by cog- nizing the object, in the first instance, by the primary ideas of the rea- son, and then by forming a conception of it, and by forming a concep- tion of the act of cognizing it as to time, place, circumstances, and that then, with these conceptions, we remember the object and the fact of our having seen it. c. Now, the inquiry is this: " Are not these conceptions, by which we remember, themselves memories to be accounted for? " And is not the inquiry really this : " How does the mind retain these acquired concep- tions of external objects, and of the fact that we have seen them before, with which, as it is here proposed, we are to remember these same things ? " (For answer, see Sect. IV. on Conception.) Here we reply, that the acquired conceptions are retained in the mind precisely as the primary facts of consciousness and the original ideas of the reason are retained in the mind. The primary ideas are formed, as we have seen, from the primary facts of consciousness. The acquired conceptions of external things are formed from the external facts of which they are the conceptions ; but these facts themselves could not be cognized but by means of, and through, a primary idea. d. By -means of a primary idea, the reason translates the fact of sense, and passes it over to the consciousness, as substantially the con- ception of the same original fact of which it has the possession, and from which the primary idea was formed ; that is, the conception of the ex- ternal thing is only a modification of the idea by which it is translated, and it is handed back to the consciousness by the reason, as a true con- ception of the original fact of consciousness of which it has already the idea ; which idea the reason has used in cognizing and translating the fact of the sense, from which the conception is formed. e. Now, in cognizing, we attain not only a knowledge of the object, but a knowledge of the fact that we have known it. And while the mind forms a conception of the object in the act of cognizing it, and then passes that conception over into the consciousness, to become, in a modified form, the conception of the original fact of consciousness, so also it forms a conception of its own act of cognizing ; i. e., of the fact that it has cognized the external object, and passes that over into the consciousness, as a conception, in a modified form of the original subjective act of the mind from which the idea was formed, and it C8 538 AUTOLOGY. remains in the mind a fixture, permanent as the activity of the mind itself, and ever ready for use. f. In remembering, the reason takes this conception of having known the object before, which it finds already in the mind, and with it cognizes the signs and phenomena of its having known the object before, and thus it remembers the object, and the fact of having known it before, which is manifestly the same act as cognizing. II. The conception of the external object becomes identical with the original idea formed from the fact of consciousness. a. We .have said in a preceding chapter, that, in forming ideas, the reason turns a fact into an idea, and that, in cognizing facts, it turns an idea into a fact ; and this is strictly true. From a fact of consciousness the reason forms an idea. When the sense presents a fact, the reason turns that idea into a' fact, embodies it in a fact, and then, forming a conception of such a fact by combining its peculiarities with the primary idea, it passes that conception back to the consciousness as a concep- tion of the fact from which the original idea was formed, and with which the external object was first cognized. b. The conception of an external object is thus blended and identified with the original idea by which that object was first cognized ; indeed, it is made of that idea, and is a growth upon it ; so that, while the in- dividuality and the sameness of the conception of the external object is not destroyed, still it becomes identified Avith a part of that original idea. Thus the conception of an external thing becomes one with the original idea which the reason formed from the fact of consciousness ; and thus the conception will be retained in the living consciousness as an ever- abiding and life-long presence. c. The primary idea is based on the primary fact of consciousness, while the acquired conception is formed out of both the fact cognized and the idea by which it is cognized ; thus it holds the same relation to the original fact of consciousness that the original idea did, certainly so far as that portion of it that is formed out of the idea is concerned ; and hence it is retained in consciousness just as the original idea is retained in consciousness. But the original ideas ai*e retained in consciousness by the same consciousness by which the primary facts of being upon which they are formed are retained in consciousness. Therefore the remembrance of either primary facts, primary ideas, or acquired, concep- tions can fail only as consciousness fails, and that can fail only as the being of the mind itself fails. d. Memory, then, as it relates to retaining conceptions, is identical with the consciousness and the reason, and these are the being itself of the mind. Memory, therefore, as it respects the retaining of conceptions, THE INTELLECT. 539 inheres in the self-consciousness, and is part of it, nay, is it itself. The reason forms its ideas from the facts of consciousness, and itself inheres in the consciousness, so that both it and its ideas become facts of con- sciousness, and are held by it as such. And precisely in the same way are acquired conceptions (which when done are only growths upon the original ideas, and identical with them) held in the consciousness per- petually, as in a living intelligence. e. The acquired conceptions of external things are growths upon original ideas, and are inseparable from them ; so that they are always embraced in 'the same consciousness, and held in connection with the same original facts of consciousness, and are as imperishable as con- sciousness or as being itself. III. The complete whole of a thing not necessary in order to remem- bering. a. It will be said that the original facts of consciousness are not the specific facts which give the specific conceptions of external objects, and therefore cannot be the means of retaining them in consciousness. The reply is, that they are more than the specific facts which give specific conceptions ; they are the original facts from which the original ideas are formed by which the specific objects are first cognized. They existed primarily and before specific cognitions, and before specific conceptions could take place, and are always in, and present with, the mind as its power both of cognition and remembrance. b. If it be further said that, as those original facts are not the specific facts upon which specific conceptions are formed, therefore they cannot be the facts with which to retain specific conceptions, the reply is, that conceptions are retained by other facts, subjective or external, as readily as by the particular ones by which they are formed. We need not a whole fact to be the basis or ground of recalling a conception. The pic- ture before me of Bonaparte looking off on the sea, from the crag of St. Helena, in which nothing but his back, attitude, and bearing are shown, and nothing of his face, gives the whole conception of him as fully as could the most complete view of him. Just so will the cap, uniform, bearing, and attitude of an old soldier at the Hotel d'lnvalides in Paris recall Bonaparte as promptly as his own features and figure would. c. This is the argument ; and now precisely in the same way will the original facts of consciousness, which we have given, and which retain in the mind the original ideas formed upon them, serve forever the purpose of holding specific conceptions in consciousness. They are the original facts on which are formed not only the ideas by which all that is neces- sary and universal in the specific objects is known, but they are the only 540 AUTOLOGY. abiding and ever-present facts by which the specific ideas can be retained in consciousness. d. That they are not so completely like the .specific conceptions of particular things as they are like the universal and necessary ideas of which they are the basis, and which they retain always in a living con- sciousness in the mfnd, is true ; but we have already abundantly seen that they need not be precisely, but only in part, in some degree, like the specific conception, in order to awaken, or rather, in this casie, keep awake the conception of a particular thing. And thus again is it shown that remembering is precisely the same in nature as cognition. It has and holds its power to remember (that is, its conception of the thing to be remembered) in precisely the same way that it has and holds those original ideas by which it knows, or cognizes, in the first instance. e. The same consciousness that holds a primary fact, and holds upon it an original idea, holds also an acquired conception upon the same pri- mary fact. Consciousness and memory are therefore identical, so far as retaining conceptions is concerned, and the consciousness holds on to its facts, ideas, and conceptions, forever, as part of its own being ; for it is now settled that the mind never really forgets or loses anything which it once knows. And hence our acquired conceptions, especially when they are blended, interwoven, and identified with the original facts and ideas of the mind, remain forever in the grasp of the living conscious- ness, making up the complete and inseparable implements of the mind, ever ready for use and ever in waiting to be employed in comprehend- ing, cognizing, translating, and remembering, whatever may be brought before it. (See Action and Reactiou, and Perpetual Identity, Div. II., Chaps. I. and II. — also Soul Island.) f. In simply cognizing, we use only the primary ideas; but in remem- bering an object which has been thus cognized, we use both our primary ideas and our acquired conceptions ; rather, we use the conception, compounded of the idea and the fact cognized, and the fact of having known the object before by it. IV. Perpetual consciousness the basis of memory. a. Here it will be seen that all our cognizing above the consciousness of the facts of being partakes of the nature of remembering, as our re- membering partakes of the nature of cognizing; for, although the reason actually creates a knowledge of its own which did not exist before, when it comprehends the facts of consciousness, or, rather, when it forms or creates ideas from them, and though, when it applies them to perception, and thus cognizes them, it also creates new knowledge by its own inherent force, yet all this knowledge is held, and only held in and by the consciousness as a growth upon the primary facts of the con- THE INTELLECT. 541 sciousness of our being which it first gives ; so that when the reason forms its ideas, they seem to come from somewhat that lies back of them, as indeed they do ; and when it cognizes external objects, the knowledge by which it is done comes from something already known. And thus our ability to cognize some unknown thing is by something already known, and, if known, of course remembered; i. e., held in consciousness. b. For instance, the hieroglyphics of Egypt and the cuneiform char- acters of Assyria were unintelligible because the human mind had no knowledge or key, or idea or acquired conception, by which to interpret them. At length such a key was found. By means of it men have now a knowledge of those characters and what they signify. That knowledge of those characters enables them to translate and ascertain, the import of the inscriptions which they constitute. c. In what, then, does remembering differ from consciousness, so far as retaining those conceptions, by which we remember, is concerned ? In nothing. In what does the mind's capability of cognizing differ from its capability of remembering ? Simply in this : the mind's capability to cognize consists of primary ideas in the first instance, and also of ac- quired conceptions of the objects thus known - . The mind's capability of remembering consists of these same things, and also the additional con- ception " that we have known the object before ; " and these qualifica- tions differ in amount, and not in quality ; and as conceptions they are retained in the mind, as other conceptions are, by the simple force of that consciousness which is conscious that it is conscious, and which holds the ideas of the reason forever in consciousness. The conception " that I have seen an object." is, therefore, like the conception of the ob- ject itself, identified with the original facts of consciousness and the original idea of the reason, and retained by the mind in the same way as a part of its furniture, implements, and power of knowing, and in this respect memory and consciousness are identical. V. Remembering differs from ordinary cognition as to its object, not as to its nature. a. The act of cognition which we call remembering cognizes the phe- nomena or embodiment of the fact of my having known the object before, by a conception of the fact that I knew it before ; and in this respect it differs from simply cognizing in the first instance. It is precisely the same in act as ordinary cognizing. It differs from it in the conception which it uses, and the fact which it cognizes, and for these reasons it is called remembering ; but in nature it is simply as an act, cognizing still, and nothing more. b. For instance, a rock appears before me. I cognize it as to quantity 542 AUTOLOGY. and quality, and find it a huge granite bouldei' ; but some one tells me, as I look upon it lying on the sea-shore, that there the Pilgrims landed more than two hundred years ago, and that it is therefore called Plymouth Rock. Here I am helped to know, by primary ideas and some acquired conceptions, that it is a rock. I know by other acquired conceptions that it is Plymouth Rock. A year after, Llook upon a specimen which .1 have, and from its color, shape, and quality, I remember that it is a piece of Plymouth Rock, and that I have been there and seen it. This small specimen of the rock, with its color, shape, and texture, is the phe- nomenon, the sign, mark, and embodiment of the fact of Plymouth Rock itself, and of my having been there and seen Plymonth Rock. I cognize them by my conception of the fact of my having been there and seen it, and thus I remember, as we call it, that I have been at Plymouth, and seen the rock. c. This conception of having made the journey to Plymouth, and of having seen the rock, is of an event enclosed in time, just as the rock, is an object enclosed in space ; indeed, the journey is in both space and time, and, as both object and effect, has a cause ; and thus is the concep- tion of it held in the consciousness by all these primary ideas and the facts from which they are formed ; and thus also is this conception of the fact that I have seen an object before, a permanent part and fixture of the mind itself, just as are the original ideas and facts of conscious- ness. d. Now, the first act was cognition of the rock as a rock. The second was a cognition of it also as Plymouth Rock, and a remembering, only as the retaining of the conception was a remembering. The third was a cognition of the fact of my having been there and seen it ; and thus manifestly is remembering an object or event precisely the same mental act as cognizing an object, only that it cognizes another thing. In re- membering I cognize by all that I employ in cognizing, and also by the acquired conception of the thing itself and of the fact of my having seen it before. If, in cognizing, we bring together a conception and a per- ception, so do we also in remembering. In the first instance, it is a con- ception of the object and a perception of the phenomena of it. In the second, it is a conception of the fact of having cognized the object before, and the perception of the phenomena or sign of my having so seen it. e. The only difference is in the objects upon which the mind is exer- cised, and .not in the act of the mind. And if, in order to cognize at the first, I must have an idea in the mind, and then have a sensuous per- ception of an object brought before it, so also in remembering must there first be already in the mind a conception of the fact of having known the object before, and then some sensuous sign or phenomenon of that object, and of the fact that I have seen the object before ; and THE INTELLECT. 543 then will it be cognized, i. e., remembered that I have known it before. And if it is not memory, but consciousness, that retains the original idea in the mind, by which it cognizes external objects in the first instance, so also is it not memory, but consciousness, that retains the conceptions of external objects in the mind, and especially the conception that I have seen the object before, by which I cognize the fact ; i. e., remember the fact that I have seen the object before. VI. Remembering requires a preceding knowledge of the rememberable. ' a. As there must be an antecedent knowledge of the knowable already in the mind before an external object can bo cog'nized, so must there be also this same knowing, both of the knowable and of the re- memberable, before there can be any specific act of remembering ; and as the original knowing of facts by the consciousness, and ideas by the reason, which are the conditions and power of cognizing external things, are not cognitions, but conditions of cognition, the indispensable pre- requisites of cognition, so the possession by the reason in the conscious- ness of conceptions of external objects, and especially the conception of the fact that I have -known an object before, is not remembering, but the condition of remembering, the prerequisite to remembering, indis- pensable and always in existence beforehand. b. The reason cognizes an object by applying an idea to a perception, thus translating the perception by the idea, and passes over the knowl- edge thus gained as a conception, into the consciousness, to be held as the original idea by which it was obtained was held ; viz., as a forma- tion upon one or more of its own original facts ; and thus it is not by remembering, but by consciousness, that the conception thus passed into it is retained. It is retained precisely as all the original facts of con- sciousness and all the primitive ideas of the reason are retained in the mind; viz., by consciousness. c. Consciousness remembers nothing ; for it is itself that which must be before any remembering can be ; then it holds its own original facts and the original ideas which the reason forms from those facts, and the conceptions of external things which the reason forms by means of its ideas from the facts of sense, all by the same power and as a part of itself. Precisely, then, as consciousness and reason give the power of know- ing, just so do thcj give the power of remembering ; as they furnish the idea for knowing, so they furnish the conceptions for remembering ; and as the knowledge by which they furnish the power of knowing ex- ternal objects is not the cognition of external objects, so the power which they give of remembering, external objects and events is not re- membering ; but both are knowings antecedent and preparatory to. cog- • nizing and remembering. 544 AUTOLOGY. d. And, lastly, remembering, is "cognizing the fact that we have known an object or event," while cognizing is simply cognizing the object or event. The latter knows a thing, the former knows it and knows that we have known it before. And thus are the act of remem- bering and the ability to remember precisely identical with the act of cognizing and the ability, to cognize, and they differ only as to the sub- ject-matter of their cognition. VII. Remembering always necessarily contemplates personal expe- rience, while simple cognizing does not. a. This point may be elucidated by recurring to a former illus- tration ; to wit, I come to the edge of a vast forest, which is thick and intricate. I wish to go through it to a point beyond ; but, fearing that I shall lose my way, and be unable to find the point towards which I am aiming, I desire to make good my retreat, so that, at least, I can come back to the place of beginning. In order to do this, I break the twigs of the limbs and bushes along my way (as in a former illustration). I make my path thus through the woods, and by good fortune come out ■after many wanderings to the place of my destination. The next day I return and follow my own marks of broken twigs hanging to limbs and bushes along the way, and I get back safely again to the side of the wood from which I first started. b. I have remembered the way by the broken twigs, which are to me the signs and phenomena of the fact, and the conception which I formed from it of my having been that way before ; and bringing together my conception of my having been that way before, and the broken twigs which were the phenomena of my having been that way before, I re- cognize the fact that I have been that way before. This is remembering, or re-cognizing, which is the same thing and the same act precisely as cognizing without the " re." c. But the illustration is not done. I pass on across an open prairie, and come to another broad, dense forest. I desire to go through that, but am unable to do so without clanger of being lost, and propose to save myself again by my old expedient of breaking the twigs of limbs and bushes as I go along; but, on entering the forest, I find that some one has already be.en before me and done this same thing. I follow the lead of the suspended twigs, as they hang broken from limb and bush, and come through to my place of destination. d. What is the difference between the mental act in following the branches which I mys*elf have broken on a former occasion, and follow- ing those which another has broken for the same purpose? When I follow the way marked by the phenomena of broken twigs which an- other has broken, I plainly, simply cognize these phenomena under the THE INTELLECT. 545 conception ol free cause which has broken them with design. I sim- ply cognize these phenomena of the fact that somebody has been there and broken them, as way-marks, which I had already formed from the facts of free cause in my own consciousness. In the former case I cog- nize the phenomena of the broken twigs as marks of the way, by the conception formed by my reason of this fact when I myself went through the woods and broke them for that purpose. €. In the one case I formed my conception from my own original and primary facts of free cause already in my own consciousness ; in the other, I formed my conception from the facts of an objective experience in which I myself had performed the work. The one was formed from my own subjective, the other from my own objective experience. But my power to make the objective experiment was the fact of my having an original subjective experiment already on hand in my own conscious- ness. I could not have understood and performed my own experiment of breaking the twigs as a way-mark if I had not already had in my own knowledge an original experiment of my own free will, as cause putting forth its own causal act as a matter of design, and a conception, or rather idea, of that subjective causation already formed from it by my reason. f. With these qualifications I resort to the expedient of the way- marks, and make them, and then cognize my own work, and compre- hend it, and form from it a conception. When I return to my line of way-marks again, and follow them through the wood, what do I but cognize them again, precisely as I did at the first, when I had just com- pleted them ? Now, what have I with which to cognize this series of way-marks more than I have to cognize the series which another has made? Evidently this ; viz., my own conception of my own personal act of making the series of way-marks, and the fact that the series which I arranged was made in another place, at another time, and in another style from that made by the other person. g. The phenomena differ as to time and place, style and route, but are in other respects essentially alike. The one series of broken twigs meaus that somebody has been there, and marked the way in that place, before me. The other series of broken twigs means that I myself have been there before, and have already broken these twigs as way-marks ; and while a stranger might look upon them with the same conception of their use in his mind, and cognize them both from the same concep- tion, I cognize them with different conceptions ; the one with a concep- tion precisely like his, and the other with the conception that I myself have already been on the ground, and before broken the twigs as marks of the way. Now, this last is called remembering, while the other is called cognizing ; but the- mental acts seem to be precisely the same ; 69 546 AUTOLOGY. if one is remembering, why is not the other ? and if one is only cogniz- ing, why is the other more ? h. We come to the conclusion, then, that this difference between cog- nizing and remembering lies not in the nature of the act, but in the object and the conception employed. To wit, I cognize the way-marks of broken twigs which another has made ; I remember the way-marks of broken twigs which I have myself made. Why ? Because the way- marks made by myself differ as to time and place, style and route, and in their relation to me, from others. I made the conception of them while I was making them. The conception is of my own experience in making them, as well as of the way-marks themselves. i. Suppose those way-marks through the wood to lead northward and across the Canada line ; they would mean to him whose destination is beyond them, simply the way through the wood ; to a fugitive from slavery they would mean also the way to freedom ; to him who had himself made them as way-marks, they would mean, in addition to all, that he himself had contrived and made them. The first cognizes' but one thing — the way through the wood. The second cognizes in them the way through the wood, and the way to freedom also. The third cog- nizes in them the way through the wood and the way to freedom for the refugee, and also the fact that he himself had made them as way-marks. VIII. Remembei'ing employs a larger conception than cognizing does. a. All that is peculiar to remembering, as distinguished from cogniz- ing, lies in the extent of the conceptions with which the acts are respec- tively performed, the conception with which I remember being simply more extended — though not different in kind — than the conception with which I cognize ; a difference which we find in all varieties of cog- nition. As, for instance, to one who had never seen a ship the helm would be merely a lever ; but to the sailor it is also that which guides the ship. The greasy scum in the stagnant water was only an offensive sight to the original settler, but .to the man of to-day it is the rich and joyous evidence of vast cisterns of valuable oil, by which the wants of the world are to be supplied, and wealth obtained. To the sailor with no compass the north star is a fixed point by which to guide his way over the ocean. To the enslaved in the South it pointed to the land of freedom. The object cognized is the same in both cases, the method of cognition is the same, but the conception of the star with which it is cognized differs. * b. Just so in remembering. We employ a different and a larger con- ception than in simply cognizing. And all cognizing is as much remem- bering as any act of cognizing is ; for it is all done and performed by using a conception which we have before formed either from the original THE INTELLECT. 547 facts of consciousness or from facts of objective experience which are retained in the mind, in all cases, by the same consciousness ; so that it is just as correct, so far as the nature of the act is concerned, to say that all cognizing is remembering, as- that anything, any act of cogniz- ing, is remembering ; for all acts of cognition ai'e, in their nature, precisely like all acts which are called remembering. c. When I form an idea of cause from the activity of my own mind, or from the act of my own free will, it is done by my reason, which notes the act and forms the conception from it. When I form a, concep- tion of an act of causation done by myself, my reason notes the same act of the same free will working out through the hands, and forms its conception from it; i. e., from the joint working of the original causal action of the free will in the consciousness, and the action of the same will working out its causation in objective acts. Therefore, as we have repeatedly seen, the object of the conception is- the same in both cases ; i. e., a personal experience ; but the latter is broader, taking in with it the objective, as well as the subjective, action ; and thus we see also that the conception is retained in the same way. d. (1.) The reason applies the idea formed from the fact of conscious- ness to the fact perceived through the senses ; (2.) but, in doing this, it forms also, at the same time, and by the same act, a conception of the fact thus cognized ; (3.) this it passes over to the consciousness, and applies again to the original facts from which the idea was formed. (4.) But, as this now conception conforms to the essential nature of the original fact, it is verified to be a true conception, and the whole opera- tion of cognition is proved to^be valid. (5.) Thus is the conception fastened on to the original fact of consciousness as its conception, and is retained by it always in consciousness as a living presence, needing no remembering ; (6.) for the facts and the ideas in the consciousness are neither remembering nor cognizing, but the means of both. (7.) They are primary and pre-requisite knowings, essential in order that cognizing and remembering may be. e. Now, let it be observed that the making of way-marks by the breaking of twigs on branches and bushes, as I go through the woods, is a work of personal causation. When it is done I look upon it as an object before me, and cognize it as a work of myself as personal cause, by applying to it my idea of personal cause in my consciousness ; and when thus cognized, I, by the same act, form a conception of it, and pass it over into my consciousness, which holds it as a conception of the working of myself as personal cause, and precisely the same per- sonal cause as that which it holds in its own embrace, and from which the reason formed its ideas of personal cause. And this same idea it 548 AUTOLOGY. was, by which the act of personal causation, in making the way-marks, was cognized which is now the subject of memory. /. Thus is this conception of the act of forming the way-marks, by breakingthe twigs by my own personal cause, held in the consciousness in precisely the same way that the original ideas of personal causation are held, and is the conception of the work of the same personal cause as that from which the original idea of personal cause was formed, and that is held in mind by consciousness as an ever, present fact, and is not at all a matter of memory. Thus, again, is remembering, both as an act of recognition, and as an act of forming and retaining in the mind the conception of the thing to be recognized, an act of cognition, just like any other act of cognition, and no more and no less. Every cognition is as much a remembering as any cognition is an act of remembering, and all knowing and all remembering must be identical. IX. What is forgetting ? a. If remembering is cognizing, then, certainly, there can be no for- getting which is not simply a failing to cognize ; but failing to know is failing to have a mind altogether. If we can cease to remember only as we cease to know, and can lose the capability of remembering only as we lose the capability of knowing, then there is no such thing as for- getting only as we cease to exist and become annihilated ; the immortal mind, therefore, never forgets anything. b. Forgetting, as we call it, occurs when the phenomena of the object are absent, and when the word or identifying mark, by which it is usually recalled, cannot be brought before us. Then, as we say, ,we have totally forgotten the object. We may remember that we have seen it, but this is only a general recollection, as of the knife in the package with many others like it, which we are unable to identify. We remem- ber that we have seen and selected one of them, but which we cannot tell until we have found the mark which we made on the handle, and then we remember it at once. c. In this way we may remember that we have seen or heard some- thing without remembering precisely what, and for the reason above given. We forget by losing the phenomena of an object ; we remember when the phenomena are brought before us. And this is precisely the way in which we cognize. As cognition will always take place when the conception and the phenomenon of an object are brought together, so remembering will always take place when the conception and the phenomenon of the thing to be remembered are brought together. d. The reason why we never forget the original facts of the mind is, that they are'the mind, and the ideas of the reason are directly formed from them, and held perpetually in the same consciousness. They are THE INTELLECT. 5-49 the things known already in the mind, and are ever kept fresh in cogni- tion by the unceasing action of the consciousness and the reason. (See Action and Reaction as fact and idea, Div. II.) These facts are the mind, and are ever in it, and can never die out, only when the mind itself perishes. Just so the ideas of the reason are ever necessarily in con- sciousness, and so are the conceptions formed from external facts ever necessarily affirmed by the reason, and held necessarily also in the con- sciousness in perpetual knowledge, even as the original facts and ideas themselves. e. Now, as we cognize the unknown by the known, so also do we re- member the forgotten, rather the absent, by that which is in the con- sciousness ; that is, we cognize thus the phenomena of an object which we have formerly seen by the conception which we have of it in our consciousness. What, then, is recollecting, if we never forget ? We mean by it the effort to find the phenomena of the object or event which we would remember when we have searched long to recall a place, person, or event, and cannot succeed in doing it. A person trying to help us, and to make us remember, will mention one thing after another relating to the time, place, form, mode, quality, quan- tity, cause, &c, of the object he would have us remember, but is baffled at every attempt ; all is blank to us ; we say that we, have forgotten all about the matter. But, at length, he mentions some one little circum- stance or peculiarity about the object in question, and at once we remem- ber it. What was the secret of a'll this ? Simply that the one thing which alone stood for the phenomena of the object or event to be remem- bered, had not yet come before us ; but the moment it did come before us, we remembered the whole matter. f. We sometimes recall a person's looks, business, plaoe of residence, but fail to recall his name. Why is it ? The reason is, that these things were never, to our mind, the phenomena of his name, and therefore could never recall it. The mind has its own peculiar way in selecting that which, to it, shall stand as the phenomenon of its conceptions of having seen and known an object. We do not know what it is. It is often not the most prominent characteristic, but sometimes a very obscure one ; but when this phenomenon which the mind has actually taken as a phe- nomenon of an object and of the fact that it has seen it before, is found and presented, then it always remembers, recognizes it, and will do so, as long as the mind itself lasts. . g. There is, then, no such thing as forgetting, but only failing to find the right phenomena which are to the mind the representation of an event or an object. When that object is presented anywhere in time or in eternity^ then the mind will infallibly remember ; and hence total for- 550 AUTOLOGY. getfulness is an impossibility. Nothing short of annihilation can cause utter forgetfulness. h. It must be noted that producing and presenting that thing which is the means of our recollecting, is not an act of remembering, but an antecedent act performed by the other faculties of the mind. It is not the work of remembering to produce a fact, nor to form a conception of a fact ; but it is the work of remembering to cognize the fact by the conceptions, when they are brought together ; but is not this act of cog- nition identical with all cognition ? Certainly it is identical with all cognition. Remembering, then, and cognizing here once more appear to be one and the same act. SECT. V. THE EEASON REMEMBERS. E. The mutual relation of believing, cognizing, and remembering. a. We have already seen what it is to know, and what absolute know- ing is, and what relative knowing is. We have seen that we cannot know anything relatively until we have known something absolutely. We have seen that, by absolute knowing, the consciousness gives us the pri- mary and original facts of being. b. We have seen also that, by absolute knowing, the reason compre- hends those primary and original facts of consciousness, and transforms them into universal and necessary ideas, and that thus the mind is qualified to perceive and cognize the objects presented to it by the sense. c. We have seen that the reason, armed with ideas behind it and with the faculties of sense before it, is prepared to go out into the world cognizing and to cognize ; that, first, on occasion of coming into contact with external things by means of physical resistance and the five senses, it perceives, i. e., becomes aware of the presence of these objects ; that then, after having the external object thus in apprehension as perceived, it cognizes it, i. e., translates it by means of the ideas which it already has,- and passes the knowledge of it over into the consciousness, to be held there forever as the possession of the soul, becoming, like the origi- nal facts and ideas, a part of its absolute knowledge. d. Here we observe two conditions of cognizing; viz., the possession by the reason of original ideas, and the presentation by the sense of an external object: then the act of knowing, i. e., the act of translating the language of the sense into the language of ideas, takes place, and the cognizing is consummated. The same conditions and the same opera- tions we have found requisite also in order to remembering. We have found that we remember by cognizing 'or interpreting the phenomena of a past mental act by the conception in the mind of that past act. e. What, now, is believing, as compared with cognizing and remem- THE INTELLECT. 551 bering ? To this it is replied, that we believe with the same reason and with the same ideas and conceptions with which we cognize and remem- ber, yet without the presence of the phenomenal object of the sense. We can never cognize nor remember without both the idea or conception of an object, or the knowable of an object, and also the phenomenal pres- ence of that object, the former supplied by the reason, and the latter by the sense ; but we can believe when we have only the original ideas of the knowable of objects, or the conception of an object in the reason without any object of the sense present. Indeed, if the objects of sense were present, then it would not be believing, but knowing. /. Thus believing has the same original basis that knowing and re- membering have, and is as certain and reliable as knowing or remember- ing. Absolute knowing, both as ideas and conceptions, is the means of knowing and remembering that which comes within the reach of contact and sensation ; and it is also the ground of faith in that which lies beyond them ; for surely that by which I cognize the unknown must itself need no cognizing, but must be absolutely known ; and secondly, that by means of which I remember must be something that itself needs no remembering, and is never forgotten ; and thirdly, that by means of which I believe in the unseen and unknown must itself not be a sub- ject of belief. g. Therefore, as I know, or cognize, external things relatively by means of the ideas or knowledges of the knowable, which I know ab- solutely, so also must I remember external and absent things or events by means of a knowledge that itself does not need remembering ; and so also must I believe in things absent by means of that which does not need to be believed, but which itself is abs-olutely known. Thus* is it manifest that cognizing, remembering, and believing, depend each on the same original and primary facts, ideas, and conceptions, which are known absolutely, and held perpetually in the mind. h. As the facts and ideas of absolute knowing are the means by which the mind is qualified for relative knowing, so are they the means of its being able to remember ; and as they are that which gives to the mind the power of remembering, so also do these same facts and ideas arm it with the power of believing. i. As we know some unknown thing external to us by means of something which we already know, and as we remember some outside thing by means of that which we can never forget within us, so also do we believe in something unknown by means of what we do actually know already. Our belief is always based on that which we do know, and not on that which we do not know ; and though we believe in that which we do not cognize, yet this belief is,always proportionate to ©ur pre-existent knowledge, whether of ideas or conceptions : a faith, or 552 AUTOLOGY. belief, which is not according to knowledge, is not faith, but fanat- icism. j. The reason, as we have seen, believes, perceives, cognizes, remem- bers. Cognizing and remembering are identical, and throw light on believing. We cognize and remember by translating the thing to be known or remembered, when that thing is presented by the sense, by our idea or conception of it already in possession of the reason. On the contrary, we believe in a thing or event by means of the idea, concep- tion, and knowledge we have of it already in possession of the reason, but without having the object presented to us by the sense. k. I embark on the sea whose shores are beyond my sight, and steer by the compass for Liverpool, which, I am told, lies in a certain latitude and longitude. I believe that, by steering in such a direction, I shall arrive at Liverpool. How does this belief differ from knowledge ? Only in this : the object or place towards which I steer is out of sight : I cannot see Liverpool from New York. The senses cannot bring the object before me ; and therefore I do not know it, but believe in it. I. In leaving the dock at New York, I can see Staten Island, and steer for it. This is not faith, but knowledge. I employ all my nau- tical skill in ship managing in order to reach the place. When I sail for Liverpool, I do the same, only I do not see the port towards which I am steering. The latter is faith, the former is knowledge. My faith reposes on the laws of nature and the facts of experience, and on the principles of mathematics already known. m. So, recurring to the illustration of making my way through the woods by breaking twigs along my path, when I return through the dense»forest, I remember my way by the broken twigs, which I myself broke, and because I broke them, and, following them, I come through in safety. This, as we have seen, is remembering, and is identical with knowing. But when I cross an open field, and come to another woods through which I wish to pass, but which I have never traversed, I fear I shall be lost in it, because I have no guide. I therefore resort to my old expedient of breaking down twigs along my path, so that I can find my way back in case I do not get through. But, on setting out, I immediately find that somebody has been there before me, and has already marked away through the woods by breaking down twigs. I at once follow that way, and come through safely. n. Now, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, the taking of these broken twigs as marks of the way which I find made by another, is not remembering, but simply cognizing them as way-marks ; and that be- cause I did not myself break them and make them way-marks. But this is not all. When I follow those broken twigs, broken as way- marks by another, and they lead me through the woods, I do not sim- THE INTELLECT. 553 ply cognize them, but I believe in them as the way-marks which another has made. Faith, then, differs from knowing and remembering in that neither the phenomena of the object, nor the phenomena that mark my having seen it before, are present to my sense ; and my power, or capa- bility of believing consists in the same antecedent knowledge, whether ideas or conceptions, in which my capability, or power, of knowing or remembering consists. 6. Thus, believing, cognizing, and remembering, are homogeneous acts of the mind : they all rest on the same foundation, and are all pro- duced by means of the same antecedent knowledge; viz., absolute knowledge. In the process of knowing, we have, first, absolute know- ing ; second, believing; third, cognizing, or relative knowing; and fourth, remembering. p. In believing, the original ideas alone are present in the mind, while the things, or objects, believed in arc absent from the mind. In cognizing, the same original ideas are present in the mind, and also the object cognized : these must be brought before the mind by means of the sense. In remembering, the same original ideas are, in like manner, present in the mind ; and also the object remembered, either in its real, or memorial, or representative form, must be present, in order to be known or remembered. We thus have a uniform basis and a homoge- neity of action for believing, cognizing, and remembering, while • they are distinguished by clear and strong marks, as to their conditions and operations. *0 554 AUTOLOGY. CHAPTER III. OPERATIONS OF THE REASON. ART. II. THE REASON COMBINES EXTERNAL FACTS. SECT. I. THE REASON ABSTRACTS, GENERALIZES, AND CLASSIFIES. a. The reason, after haviug cognized numerous objects, selects from each of them that one thing in which they all agree, and neglecting every other attribute in all and each of them, fastens only on this ; as, for instance, the vertebrae in animals. This is called Abstraction. Then it characterizes the whole group by this one mark ; this is called •Generalization. Then, going to another group of objects, or to the same, with others, it selects another point in which they all agree, viz., the warm-blooded ; and it characterizes all that have this mark by this mark alone, and calls them by that name. This also is abstraction and generalization. b. But this taking one mark and arranging around it all that have it, and a different mark and arranging around it all that have that mark, — in short, this grouping according to different marks, is classifying ; and in this way is knowledge both increased and rendered useful and remeni- berable. c. The reason, having, by means of the categories and the sense, come to the knowledge of external objects, proceeds at once to classify and arrange them according to their nature and characteristics ; to wit, they are divided into the Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral kingdoms ; and these again are subdivided into classes, orders, tribes, families, genera, and species ; as in zoology, botany, and mineralogy. Each individual is placed in the class, order, tribe, family, genus, and species to which it belongs ; and thus knowledge is perfected, and increased, and rendered available. d. In this way new conceptions are formed from external facts, and pew categories for cognition ; as the vertebrated and the invertebrated animals, the mammalia, the feline, the canine. All these become con- ceptions of a class, order, or genus ; and each individual species is an individual conception, and all become the categories by which they are to be cognized. THE INTELLECT. " * 555 e. The same is true of botany and mineralogy, of chemistry and astronomy. The knowledge attained is thus arranged and disposed according to natural differences and distinctions. The same is true of all the productions of mechanics and of art. Architecture has its styles and orders ; painting and sculpture have their schools ; ships have their diversities of structure and rigging ; and all things made by man dispose of themselves according to their own name and nature. In the learned professions we find the same. We have courts of law and equity ; we have civil, military, -and municipal law, maritime law, and the laws of nations, criminal law, and the law of insurance, patents, &c. f. Medicine has its anatomy and pathology, and a system of treat- ment for almost every member of the body. Theology is polemic, and didactic, and pastoral ; and philosophy has its schools — Scotch, German, English, and French, and in them all is dogmatical, inductive, pantheis- tic, transcendental, or common-sense, rational, or sensational. g. Thus all knowledge gathered up from the outer world, and by the mind, full armed, and fully developed, is named and classified, divided and specified, ready for remembrance and use. We now have not only individual conceptions, but conceptions of orders, classes, genera, and species. Yet none of this knowledge could ever have been obtained if the mind had not first had its facts of consciousness, and from them formed its ideas by the reason, and with them explained, translated, and cog- nized the facts and objects of the outer world presented by the senses. h. It is not the province of mental philosophy to present all the sub- ject-matter of knowledge, but to show the faculties of the mind ; hence we need not here attempt any survey of the fields of knowledge into which the mind may enter. Our office is rather to show the faculties and qualifications of the mind by which it is enabled to enter them, and cognize all that is in them, and that while it, in the first instance, cog- nizes them by means of ideas formed by its own reason from the facts of its own consciousness, yet when it has possessed itself of a knowl- edge of the facts and objects of the external world, it then arranges, classifies, and names the objects which it thus finds, according to princi- ples and laws, differences and distinctions, which it finds in them. i. And here the great field of knowledge opens upon us ; and here it is that we find that " much study is a weariness to the flesh," and that "of the making of books there is no end." Here it is, that by means of special conceptions, and generic conceptions, and conceptions of classes and orders, we combine, marshal, and dispose of all our knowl- edge so as to subject it to our command, and make it available for our use. Thus the reason abstracts a peculiar mark, and then generalizes into species, genus, order, and class, all objects which are the subject of knowledge in the external world. 556 AUTOLOGY. SECT. II. THE REASON RATIOCINATES. a. This operation of reason introduces us at once into the field of logic. Logic is either real or formal. Real logic is simply cognition, and formal logic is a system of rules by which we demonstrate that our cognition is correct. The term logic may be applied either to the subject-matter of knowledge ; that is, the nature of things, or the things known and their dynamical relations, or to the method of knowing them. The former is real logic, and is the higher sense, in which most German authors use it, and the latter is the sense in which it is commonly used in English. The former is also sometimes called pure, and the latter, applied logic. 6. Yet it must not be overlooked, that in pure logic the laws of i thought and the laws of nature are made identical, so that logic in this sense signifies the same as real logic, viz., the nature of things ; and thinking is regarded as tracing the nature of things ; so that the laws of thought and the laws of nature are one and the same. Now, this would be true if we had all nature within the grasp of our minds to start with, and if we then reasoned correctly ; but we know not that this is the case, and therefore we cannot make the extent of our knowledge the extent of the nature of things. c. That cognition and real logic are the same, will appear, when we consider the. following facts ; viz., the force of gravitation is in the direct ratio of the quantity of bodies, and in the reverse ratio of the squares of their distances from the object ; this is a dynamical relation of bodies, ascertained by experiment, or what we call a law of nature. Now, this is direct cognition with the faculties of sense and reason, attained by actual experiment. d. Should the above matter of fact, however, be laid down as a theory before experiment, as a logical proposition, and as a major prem- ise in a syllogism, and should the comparative attractive force of any particular body be deduced therefrom, it might all be correct ; but all that the syllogism could show would be, that the relation between the major and minor premise was correct and true. Both of these, proposi- tions would, so far as the syllogism is concerned, be mere assumptions. The syllogism, then, may further, correct and increase our knowledge when our premises or propositions out of which we make it are true ; but it has no power to find out these propositions in the first place, nor to prove them true when found ; it can only show the relation between them, and make it appear that what is affirmed in the second is con- tained in the first, and, therefore, true according to the first, and if the first is true. e. Cognition, then, is the only direct method of gaining knowledge, THE INTELLECT. 557 and is hence the true logic ; for it carries with it, net only the truth of the relations of major and minor premise, but the truth of the proposi- tions themselves, as especially the fact of the dynamical relation between them ; so that cognition is living and actual, and not simply formal logic. In this sense is logic the method of informing ourselves, and in this way are the laws of logic and the laws of nature one ; in this way the relations of logical propositions and the relations of the forces of nature, of which they are the true definition and statement, are also one ; that is, one in form ; for, of course, the one is a mere set of definitions, while the other is also a set of impenetrable forces and realities ; and this logic, which is cognition, is true and real just so far as it extends. f. If I cognize an object by its cause, the thing which I cognize is the relation between the object and its. cause. This is done, as we have repeatedly seen, by first having a sensuous perception of the object, as embodying the cause ; and the cause is the causal relation, as the figure on the wax shows, when it embodies the cause, and when also the causal force is embodied in it ; so that the relation of the cause to the effect has a physical embodiment, and is cognized by the sense and the reason, just as any other object is cognized. g. Now, this is true, real, and complete logic, the logic of fact and proposition, of reality and form, of dynamical as well as logical relations between the major and minor propositions, and in which the form of the syllogism is the true expression of the actual and real form of the nature of things ; and the relation expressed by the conclusion between the major and minor premise is the real and dynamical relation between the force defined in the major premise and the force defined in the minor premise, and not simply the relation of the meaning of the words con- tained in the minor premise, as is the case in mere formal logic. In this latter sense logic is a mere detector of' error, or a demonstrator of truth in propositions already known, and cognition already made, or supposed to be made, and not a discoverer or procurer of knowledge from the original sources. h. Precisely here is the controversy between the ontologist, who claims to be able to comprehend the first principles of all things in his system of logic, as did Fichte, and Schelling, and Hegel, and Cousin, and the opposite schools, especially Kant, and the Scotch and English, who contend that " there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of" in German philosophy; i. e., things whose existence we can demonstrate with certainty, yet whose nature or mode of being we can- not at all comprehend, in any nature of things or sj'stem of logic, as Hegel and Cousin, and others have tried to do. i. Logic is certainly built on the laws of nature, and is, when correct, an exposition of these laws ; but this can be the case only so far as we 558 AUTOLOGY. . know nature, and nature we know only by an act of cognition. Cogni- tion is knowing, or ascertaining, what nature is, and in this sense it is real logic. Yet it is the knowing that is logic, and not the nature which is known ; and formal logic is the explaining and setting forth in words and in propositions what the process of cognizing is. The knowing of the laws of nature and these laws themselves are not identical ; but the former is real logic, while the latter is the subject of real logic ; and formal logic is the statement of the act of cognizing nature in a syllo- gistic form, so as to know it better ourselves, to prove and correct it, and also, as we shall see, to communicate it to others. j. Cognition is real logic, for it cognizes the subject-matter of major and minor propositions, and the dynamical relation between them, ex- pressed in the conclusion, and vouches for their truth. But logic, in its common acceptation, — that is, formal or applied logic, — is a system of rules, according to which propositions are arranged, so as to detect any verbal error that may be in the verbal relation of major and minor premise, as expressed in the words of the conclusion, and to bring out the truth, as in the syllogism, having major and minor premise, and conclusion ; viz., " All men are mortal : Cicero is a man ; therefore Cicero is mortal." k. Yet, clearly, all these methods of formal logic are simply methods of cognition, and processes through which the mind goes in every act of cognition, however simple. When an object is presented to the mind by the senses, and cognized by the reason, the reason in that act of cog- nition goes through the ordinary logical process of laying down a major premise, arranging under it a minor premise, and thus drawing a conclu- sion ; as when, by the sense of physical resistance, I come into contact with an external object, my reason has already laid down the major prem- ise : 1. Whatever has impenetrability is a substance. 2. This object, with which I come in contact by my own impenetrable physical resistance, has impenetrability. 3. Therefore it is a substance. I. Now, this is a simple act of cognition, as wo have repeatedly shown in the chapter on cognition ; but it is also obviously, as here appears, a logical process purely, and this is logic ; and this shows that the rules, forms, and syllogisms of formal logic are simply explanations of the acts of cognition, or real logic, and methods of detecting the error, or demonstrating the truth, that may be in .them. m. And as for the view of Hegel, .and Cousin, and others, who would identify and make one the systems of logic and the laws of nature, and who confound the logical and the ontological, as they term it, it may be said, that beyond doubt God's laws of logic and laws of nature are one and the same, his nature of things and his logical processes, his logic and his ontology, are identical, so far as he chooses to create nature THE INTELLECT. 559 parallel to, and in fulfilment of, his own logical processes. But as we know not that God has created all that he could create, or told all that he could tell, or put all his own plans, thoughts, and conceptions into execution and actual existences, so we do not know that in God's universe it is true even to the mind of God, that "all that is logical, is," — even though all that is, is unquestionably logical ; so thai neither Mr. Hegel's ontology, nor that of any other man, can be true; viz., "that all that is logical, is, or all that is, is logical. " n. Now, the reason reasons or ratiocinates (as, for the sake of avoiding tautology, we have termed it) ; that is, it cognizes according to certain rules, whether those rules- are known to it at the time or not. It argues, and thus cognizes, or knows things, and thus arguing is informing one's self, or attaining knowledge. The only difference between cognizing and arguing is, that in the first case we employ actual sensations and actual ideas, and thus know sensuousky, rationally, and consciously; while in arguing, we, in the absence of sensation, state a rational proposition, arrange it under another statement of fact, and then draw a conclusion ; and the truth of the argument, or cognition, depends not at all on the actual existence of that which is affirmed in the major or minor premise, but on the truth of the relation between them ; while the truth of a cog- nition depends on the reality of the seuse-operation, and the reality of the facts of consciousness, on which, the reason forms its ideas. o. An act of cognition is true, because consciousness cannot be ques- tioned, and reason cannot be questioned, in their essential and independ- ent affirmations of truth. But a logical argument is true, even though all these be false, and nothing but the conclusion, stating the relation between the major and minor premise, is true. That whatever is, is logi- cal, is no doubt true, and we doubtless could show it so, if we could get hold of all the facts that constitute the major and the minor premise ; but without these facts we cannot do that. p. If, however, we can ascertain the logical relation of the facts which are -within our reach, we shall do all that is needful ; and if we, in the light of this logic, can see that some supposed, or asserted, or revealed thing is illogical, still we must remember that it is only illogical, and by no means thereby shown to be unreal ; for if we had all the facts, we should be able to see that it was both real and logical. q. Logic, i. e., formal logic, is the process of cognition, drawn out and explained, so as to show the truth or the falseness of the act of cognition ; and. as such, it. is not so much a means of attaining knowl- edge in the first instance, as it is a means of correcting and proving knowledge already attained. The act of cognition is the means of attain- ing knowledge ; but when a logical process, by its conclusion, shows that a certain unknown thing is logical, we at once conclude that it is proba- 560 AUTOLOGY. ble, and may at once seek, by an act of ordinary cognition through the sense and the reason, to prove by experiment whether the thing really exists or not. Thus a logical process may show an act of cognition illusory, and an act of cognition may show a logical conclusion to be merely theoretical or fallacious. r. The act of cognition attacks, in its testing of the syllogism, the matter of fact of the major or minor proposition of the syllogism, while the logical process, in testing ^the truth of an act of cognition, attacks the relation of the propositions to one another. The one is a question of fact, and the other of relation. Thus the reason argues in quest of knowledge. Logic, as such (that is, formal logic), deals altogether with the truths of the relations of major and minor premises ; and this it does by comparing the mere verbal statements of the minor with the major proposition. s. If it finds the verbal statement of the minor proposition contained in terms in the verbal statement of the major proposition, then it affirms that the conclusion is correct and true ; but it says nothing about, and knows nothing about, the truth of the matter affirmed in either of the propositions. On the contrary, real logic, which is identical with cogni- tion, has to do both with the truth and the reality of the. matter affirmed in the propositions, and also the truth and the reality of the dynamical relation between them. t. All veritable cognition, as we have shown, cognizes the relation between substance and quality, and between cause and effect, as directly, and by the same means, as it does the phenomenon of the cause and the •phenomenon of the effect. That is, it finds the phenomenon of the con- nection, as 'well as of the things connected, i. e., the cause and the effect, and cognizes the phenomenon of that dynamical connection in precisely the same, way that it cognizes any other phenomenon. And this is real logic, while the syllogism can give us only formal logic, in the words which define the actual things of real logic and the truths of the verbal and formal relation between them. u. Thus is logic, both as real and as formal, the moans of informing ourselves. Real logic cognizes new propositions ; formal logic proves the truth of the relation between them as stated in words: thus is the syllogism the means both of acquiring and of communicating knowledge, and belongs, consequently, to both Logic and Rhetoric, according to the purpose for which it is used. And this brings us to the next operation of the Reason; viz., Rhetorizing, in which we shall note the difference between real and formal logic more clearly, and the difference between Logic and Rhetoric. THE INTELLECT. 561 SECT. III. THE REASON RHETORIZES. a. This operation of the reason, together with the two following, Theorizing and Inventing, acts' with more or less directness in ref- erence to the second set of classes of the affections, viz., the social, the patriotic, and the philanthropic. b. These operations have a general, and in some instances a specific relation to these classes of affections ; and we note it, in passing, for their own sake, and for the sake especially of the next set of affections, whose relations to the operations of the reason are obvious. Premising thus much as to the relation of these mental operations to the affections, we inquire, Does the reason rhetorize ? c. Some one has said that "by Logic we attain knowledge for our- selves, and that by Rhetoric we communicate knowledge to others,'' — that logic is thus the thinking and knowing operation, while rhetoric is the teaching, and preaching, and communicating operation : the former makes treatises and systems of truth, and science and philosophy ; that is, originates and thinks them out, while the latter writes and arranges, classifies and expresses them ; and thus it is that the logicians do the thinking, and the rhetoricians do the writing, teaching, and speaking ; and these are the reasons why we have both good books and bad books ; good when the rhetorician understands the thinker, and writes accord- ingly, or when the logician is himself also a rhetorician ; and bad when the logician cannot write, or when the rhetorician cannot think. d. The elder Edwards was the better thinker, the younger, the^ better writer ; Kant was a powerful thinker, but a poor writer. Thomas Brown was a fluent and rhetorical writer, but not a profound thinker. Sir William Hamilton seemed to be more adapted to philology than to logic or rhetoric. e. As logic is the act of knowing, so rhetoric is the act of expressing knowledge. Whatsoever is the instrument of communicating knowl- edge, therefore, belongs to rhetoric, or may be employed by it. With .this view the syllogism belongs rather to rhetoric than to logic ; for it is employed, not in acquiring, but in explaining knowledge ; not in origi- nating knowledge, but in correcting it ; not in cognizing in the first in- stance, but in proving" what we thus know, and in showing it to another. If true logic consists in real cognition, true rhetoric consists in a clear expression of that cognition in words and figures of speech ; and surely for this purpose the syllogism is useful and requisite. f. But rhetoric is not only the clear and convincing, but also the forceful, elegant, and persuasive utterance of the truth in written com- position, or real speech ; and for this purpose all the modes of speech and figures of language are requisite. Rhetoric will, therefore, have 11 562 AUTOLOGY. fitting words wrought into well-formed sentences ; it will combine them into clear and strong propositions, and frame them into true and valid syllogisms of major and minor premises and conclusion, and with this explain the«process of cognition, and communicate to others the knowl- edge attained. g. Thus rhetoric, as it consists in clearness of statement, communi- cates knowledge by means of the syllogism. But rhetoric also consists in convincing ; hence it accumulates arguments, and presents considera- tions of truth, advantage, pleasure, and duty, and addresses them to the reason, the conscience, and the heart. The reason rhetorizes, in the communication of knowledge. h. The office of rhetoric is to state truth clearly, and convincingly, and elegantly, and so as both to produce conviction and to persuade. In order to do this it must make clear definitions, and concise major propositions. Then it must accurately state its minor term and draw its conclusion in the same words. This gives rhetorical clearness and force, makes the position strong and commanding. i. Then the position may be further strengthened by representation of fitness, advantage, and duty, and all these points may bo illustrated, enforced, and augmented in their value, in their importance, and in the obligation which .they impose, by comparison, analogies, anecdotes, metaphors, tropes, and other figures ; and thus the rhetorizing may go on accumulating strength, beauty, persuasiveness, and force, until the point is gained. Choice words, elegant sentences, bold figures, apt illustrations, telling anecdotes, and striking analogies and metaphors, a clear, flexible, and strong voice, a becoming manner in attitude, gesticu- lation, expression of countenance, and general bearing, — all combine to convince, conyict, persuade, and carry the hearer to the point proposed. j. Rhetoric uses argument, analogy, metaphor, anecdote, apostrophe, dramatic representation, and personification, and all things in writing and in speech, :to carry its point. It can be argumentative or poetical, imaginative or plain-spoken, impassioned or calm, and in all, and by all, seek the end of convincing and persuading to a conclusion. Now, this is not the work of logic, but of rhetoric ; not of thinking, so much as of communicating thought ; not of informing ourselves, but of informing others. In doing this the rhetorician may use all the forms of logic, and all the formulas of mathematics, all the processes of science, all the numbers of arithmetic, and all the facts of statistics, all the imagery and all the rhythm of poetry, as well as all the inventions of fiction, tragic, comic, or historic ; he may use narration or declamation, description or mere inventory, as his purpose requires. k. Thus rhetoric is both writing and speaking, discussion and oratory ; and it may draw all things unto itself, and subsidize all things to its TIIE INTELLECT. 563 own end. Logic, science, mathematics, history, poetry, fiction, and the drama, — it becomes them all, and all become it by turns, in such a way as to reach its ends, viz., a conviction of the truth of .its positions, and a persuasion to accept and undertake them. It here appears not only how formal logic and rhetoric blend and become identical, but how all other forms of expressing thought run into and become a part of rhetoric. Yet rhetoric, it must be remembered, is not the act or art of finding out truth, but of expressing and communicating it, with clear- ness, force, and persuasiveness. 1. Logic gives it clearness of statement ; principles give it force ; facts give certainty ; analogies give practical illustrations ; metaphors give strong light and shade; poetry gives beauty; tragedy gives pathos, and comedy humor and ridicule ; intonation and action give a vivid and life-like reality to the whole subject-matter which is passing before the reader, or auditor, as may be. A skilful rhetorician is thus master of all things, and controls his reader or hearer by the dexterous use and arrange- ment,, setting and putting, and shifting and combining, marshalling and disposing, and deploying of all these forces. m. Yet the object of the rhetorician, in all this, is not to make argu- ments, logic, ecience, poetry, or fiction, but so to use them as to con- vince, persuade, and carry those whom he addresses. So far as this, logic is rhetoric, and rhetoric logic ; and so far as this, rhetoric is poetry and science, and poetry and science are rhetoric ; and.no further. SECT. IV. THE REASON THEORIZES. a. To theorize is to make a theory, and then to arrange and dispose- of facts according to our assumed hypothesis ; as, for instance, the solar system accounts for the motion of the planets, on the assumption,, or theory, that the sun is the centre of the system around which they all revolve ; while the Ptolemaic theory attempted to account for the same facts by taking the earth as the centre. There are also theories of gov- ernment, theories of theology, theories of social and political economy, theories of philosophy, of mental, moral, intellectual, and ontological science. 6. Now, as the reason has a tendency to cognize, and ratiocinate, and rhetorize, so has it a tendency to theorize ; and indeed, as logic is a species of cognition, so is theorizing a species of logic ; hence by theo- rizing, knowledge may be attained. If we have hit a true theory, it may not only explain existing facts, but also foretell coming facts. Hence science is sometimes called prophetic ; for instance, some theory of poli- tics points out success if pursued, and disaster if neglected : if the 564 AUTOLOGY. theory is true the disaster comes when it is violated, and success and prosperity when it is lived up to. c. So astronomical theories may affirm the existence of planets as yet undiscovered, which, if the theory be true, may afterwards be dis- covered, as has been the case. This tendency of the reason to theorize is called speculation ; it becomes hurtful only when it cuts loose from facts and ascertained principles ; but in its nature it is the very plethory and prodigality of rational power, by which all progress is made. d. When regulated by facts, it is the all-comprehending reason, soar- ing above them and viewing them from the eternal and beaven-piercing heights of first principles, and taking their bearings in relation to them and to all truths as one whole. Thus men theorize of man, and God, and nature, of time and eternity, and their relations ; and if it be honestly, faithfully, and humbly done, ever adhering to facts, it will always result in the furtherance of knowledge, of reverence, and of moral elevation. e. It is only when the reason cuts loose from the moorings of fact that it drifts away on dangerous and uncertain seas, amidst rocks, storms, breakers, and quicksands ; but anchored to the shore of fact, however high above it, or to the bottom of reality, however deep below it, or held hj the true and steady needle of experiment to the star of truth in the heavens, the proudest and loftiest ship of speculation will outride the stormiest sea, and make its way in safety over any shoal, through any breakers, or betwixt any Scylla and Charybdis, in the universe of knowledge. /. This is the operation of the reason which the Germans, especially Fichte, Schelliug, and Hegel, call pure logic. It is the region upon which they enter, and, trusting to 'the laws of thought alone, frame an ideal universe ; and having Completed the whole theory as a matter of pure thought, they then call that thought a force, and its processes the operations of that force producing nature ; and thus they pass from what they call logic to natural philosophy. The processes of logic are made to be forces of nature, working as causes, producing all the forms of nature, geological, and chemical, and crystalline, and all the modes of vegetable, animal, and rational life. g. This logical process, or theory, which is mere thought becoming a force, or, rather, many forces, produces, first nature, with all its forms, modes, and varieties. Then, having gone its length, and spent its expan- sive power, and reached the limits of nature, it turns back upon itself, in order to go back from the nature, which it has made to become mere thought and pure logic again, as it was in the beginning. But in this act of turning back upon itself, it becomes self-conscious, and in this it produces man, or the rational spirit, as its highest product ; produced in THE INTELLECT. 5G5 the act of turning' back from its last. expansion into nature, and in the very act of becoming again pure thought, or a logical process, as it was at the first. h. Just as the sap of a tree, rising from the root, flows upward, pro- ducing wood, bark, limbs, leaves, and buds, at last blossoms out and becomes fruit, and then turns back again to the root, so pure thought, becoming force, rises up through all the live forms of nature, and vege- table and animal life, until at last it blossoms out and becomes fruit as man, and in so doing becomes mere thought again, as it was at the first. Of course this thought is spirit life and force all the while, and ac- cording to them, God all the while; i. c., all the God they believe in — which is no God at all, but a mere force of nature, in which all individu- ality, and personality, and liberty are lost in one all-absorbing atheism. ,i. And this process gives, according to them, the three departments of logic, natural philosophy, and the philosophy of spirit ; and this spirit is the laws and forces of nature, is man and God. All is,, at first, a mere logical process; that process is then found to be force producing nature; and having done this and turning back to itself, it comes to itself in self-consciousness ; and thus are man and God the sum total of all the human spirits, and the forces in nature, and the logical process lying back of all, and to which all returns. And this oscillation of " SftcfjtS, \rcrben, fettt," and " ©eirt, toerben, nid)t3/' nothing, becoming, be- ing, and being, departing, nothing, — this eternal passing from nothing to something, and from something to nothing, — this is being, this is the universe, this is God, man, and nature, in one whole, indivisible and the same. j. Now, this is a specimen of what theorizing is, and of this high and glorious capability of the reason, and also of the utter extravagance, falseness, and fantasticalness of its speculations when they are cut loose from fact and experiment, from the cognition of sense and reason, anchored to the facts of consciousness which are alone true and reliable. Valid theorizing is like that of Newton, whose reason, on seeing an apple fall from a tree to the earth, conceived at once the great law of gravita- tion ; viz., that all bodies attract in direct proportion to their quantity, and in the inverse ratio of the squares of their distances ; and with this theory all facts in the universe are found, to agree, and to be ac- counted for. SECT. V. THE REASON INVENTS. a. Ratiocination and theorizing, applied to motive power, locomotion, navigation, mechanical force, reaping, cultivating, planting, spinning, weaving, printing, sewing, or to any kind of mechanical instrument, 566 AUTOLOGY. will result in some sort of invention or improvement, as the steam engine, the printing press, the magnetic needle, railroads, steamboats, cotton and woollen factories, sewing machines, and the like, which in- ventions are to be shown practicable or impracticable by experiment. b. The steamboat was a theory at first, but when it was put to the test of experiment and practice, it was found to be a true, and real, and valid invention, useful and profitable. The printing press, was in the first instance, thought out, as a mere theory ; but when tested by ex- periment, it was found to be a real invention, that is, a real thing found. The railroad was a theory, the telegraph was a theory ; but both have been demonstrated to be real and practical inventions, by actual experi- ment and use ; and so all the thousand upon thousand of machines and instruments in all the practical and every-day arts of life. c. All invention proceeds on the same principle that a theory does ; it is a theory until proved by experiment, and then it becomes an inven- tion. At first it may be imperfect, and it may afterwards be improved. And the difference between an improvement and an invention is often so indistinct, that an adept is employed by the government to examine all claimed inventions, and to ascertain whether they are, in fact, a new principle or theory, or only a modification of an old one ; hence the law of patents, and protection and encouragement of the government to in- ventors, by granting patent rights. d. Invention is stimulated by necessity, in so much that we have the proverb, " Necessity is the mother of invention." The advantages of the pressure of necessity are twofold ; in the first instance, it impels to the application and employment of any expedient or theory which we ma}' have lying idly in our brain ; and secondly, it compels us to ad- here closely to facts and to practical results, as they appear from actual experiment. For if a theory, or supposed invention, does not work, if it does not do the thing, we of necessity throw it aside, no matter how complete in theory or form ; and if it does do the thing we want, under the circumstances in which .we want it, then we retain and use it, no matter how illogical the theory, or how uncouth and bungling the form of the machine. Hence, truly, is necessity both the parent and guardian of invention. e. We, perhaps, have no instance illustrating this more fully and strikingly than the events of the late war with the rebels, and espe- cially the invention of the gunboats' called " Monitors." Necessity impelled thereto, and stern experiment vindicated the theory on which they were made, and established them as a most essential and potent invention. f. Nor is there any limit assignable to human invention. All the elements of nature will yet be subjected to man's will. As invention THE INTELLECT. 567 increases and its instruments multiply in numbers and facility, one ob- stacle after another in nature will be removed, and man will appropriate one force, production, and element after another to his own use, until the* ; whole universe shall be subject to him, and contribute to his well- being, and he shall be master and lord of it all. It is no longer credu- lity to believe anything practicable to human invention; doubters have now become the credulous class. g. This is the physical millennium for which all inventors, scientists, and economists are looking, and in which human genius and wit shall have their highest development ; not in works of theory or art, of poetry, or painting, or philosophy, or letters, but in practical and me- chanical invention and useful arts. It shall be a millennium of actual knowledge, power, and skill, by which and in which man is to attain his highest glory. h. Surely all good men feel that everything that gives man ascen- dency over nature is a great good ; but no one who knows the human heart will for a moment think that a physical civilization is alone man's highest state; but rather that in the rudest forms of life and in the lowest state of the arts, there may be the highest virtue not only, but the highest Christian faith, and the purest form of* well-being. Physical improvements certainly help, and do not hinder, moral and religious im- provement ; but certainly they can never cure human selfishness, nor save the world, nor supersede the necessity and power of grace and the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ. SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. We have now arrived at the point where the operations of the reason come under the third set of affections, viz., the sesthetical. Here the operations of the reason are in correspondence with the following affec- tions of the heart, to wit., playful imitativeness, ideal rcproductiveness, ideal enhanciveness, ideal perfectivencss, fanciful or sportive depreciative- ness. These susceptibilities are in direct correlation with the reason's operations of imagining, embodying, enhancing, perfecting, and depre- ciating; and they act upon each other reciprocally. A. Imagining distinguished from other operations of the reason. a. As in logic the reason shows the' nature of things, or the nat- ural and dynamical relation of things, and as in theorizing it shows also the same relations, only more fully and symmetrically, and rather as a unity, entirety, and harmonious whole, than as a logical and prac- tical sequence, so in imagining it gives the sensuous form of things. The logic is the jointed, tenoned, and mortised bones. The theory wires and frames them together into a skeleton, and supplies them with 568 AUTOLOGY. nervous and vital systems, while the imagination puts on flesh, skin, color and expression, motion and life. It is the same reason that cog- nizes, theorizes, invents, and imagines ; and these operations are all homogeneous. r b. The reason, by imagining, gives the completed and sensuous form of any conceived object as it meets the senses, particularly the eye. But in these operations the transition from cognizing to ratiocinating, and from ratiocinating to rhetorizing, and from rhetorizing to theorizing, and from theorizing to inventing, and from inventing to imagining, is so natural and so gradual, and the operations partake so mnch of each other, and run into and blend with each other so much, that the lines of division between them are often rendered so indistinct as to make it difficult to tell what is cognition and what ratiocination, what is ratioci- nation and what rhetoric, what is rhetorizing and what theorizing, what is theorizing and what inventing, what is inventing and what imagin- ing ; but this not only does not do away with the differences, but makes the distinction the more necessary, and shows that they are all opera- tions of the same single faculty, the reason. c. It is because, this faculty performs all these operations, and each operation includes something of all the rest, that they run together, and the one helps the other. We have seen that the same reason cognizes, conceives, remembers, classifies, ratiocinates, rhetorizes, theorizes, in- vents, and now imagines ; and we find that it mingles somewhat of each of the operations in each and all of the rest. With this remark we now take up the operation of the reason in imagining. d. Imagining differs from conceiving in that conceiving simply grasps the characteristics of its object, whether they be rational or sen- suous, and if sensuous, whether simply numerical and statistical, or hav- ing extension and figure ; while imagining always has an image, or form, figure, feature, and proportions. e. In a similar way does imagining differ from theorizing. In theo- rizing, only relations, proportions, and combinations are given from some central force or stand-point which is assumed ; while in imagining, the bodily shajDe and sensuous presence of the objects.are given. /. So also in regard to inventing : while in it, as in all the other op- erations, there is more or less of imagining, yet inventing is the finding of a force, or the combining of a force, according to mathematical and mechanical principles, while imagining gives the form of an ideal ob- ject as perfect and complete in all its appearance and sensuous pro- portions. g. Thus in imagining the reason performs a distinct office ; it deals with sensuous forms, while the other operations of the reasou deal more with principles and relations. If in ratiocinating the reason is an anat- THE INTELLECT. 569 omist and a mechanic, and' in rhetorizing it is a field-marshal, then in imagining it is a painter and a sculptor, and a dramatist. If in the case of ratiocinating it prepares the timbers and puts together the framework of the world, in the case of imagining it comes with earth and soil, and grass and trees, and fruits and flowers, making it beautiful with lawns and streams, mountains and seas, and cheerful with all forms of animal, and rational, and social life. h. Thus in imagining the reason does that which it does in no other operation ; and while it does, this, it is still bound, guided, and swayed by all the laws and limits of the operations of cognizing, ratiocinating, and theorizing. It must clothe in sensuous forms and bodily appear- ances only that which is logically framed and theoretically symmetrical, or it will fall into the grotesque and the fanciful. i. Precisely here is the difference between imagination and fancy : im- agination, while it rises above them, is yet bound by the laws of logical and theoretical relations and proportions, as these themselves are by facts in the nature of things, and is gauged by them as a pencil in marking a circle, or an ellipse is controlled by the line that connects it with its focus of the one or the foci of the other ; while fancy is entirely cut loose from all restraint or law of logic, symmetry, or fitness. In imagining, therefore, the reason is as logical as in ratiocinating ; and although it makes no statement of argument or of syllogism, yet it obeys both of them by an inward and unconscious law of harmonious life, which governs all' its actions. j. Imagination is thus, really and truly, the highest form of rational knowing. As the completed body, with its flesh and blood, and bodily sense, with living countenance and radiant eye, and form erect and brow sublime, all instinct and speaking with the living soul which God breathed into it, contains in its complete self all that is contained in the skeleton, in the vital system, -in the nerves, the muscles, the veins, and the brain, so does the reason in imagining include and bring into one comprehensive and complete knowing all the mental operations that have gone before it. All the preceding operations are more or. less elementary, anatomical, analytical, and statistical, while this is con- cretely a whole and completely a unity. k. And here we see the truthfulness of Shakspeare's climax, when he says, " What a piece of work is man ! how infinite in faculties, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a God ! " Appre- hension here means imagination, the highest and completest form of knowing, in which both the rational and the sensuous are combined in their loftiest and completest forms. Here the mind becomes again a unit in its action, and culminates in the perfect combination of all its facul- ties and all its operations, in one last, highest, completest, and most 12 570 .AUTOLOGY. perfect knowing 1 . For this reason aesthetics* stand above logic, poetry is above philosophy, and art rises above all science, in the appreciation of the human mind in'all a°:es of the world. SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. B. The Reason embodies. Having ascertained what imagining is, as distinguished from other operations of the reason, we now come to lpok after some of the specific offices. Of these we find the following : 1st. The Eeason imagines real forms. 2d. The Reason imagines ideal creations. These we shall now proceed to examine in their various uses and manifestations. a. The reason, in imagining, embodies, gives body to the products of all the preceding operations of the mind. In perceiving and cogniz- ing the reason has the body of that which it cognizes presented to it in the operations of the senses ; but in the other operations it has no direct help from the senses, though it always requires this help in every case, in some form. The work of imagining is, therefore, to give the sensu- ous appearance, body, or figure, to the products of the other operations of the mind. In doing this, it gives in the first instance real images or forms. b. As when the reason forms a conception of a before-known but absent object by grouping its characteristics, or when, the characteris- tics being supplied of an object never seen, it forms a conception of it, then, by imagining, the reason gives the completest image of such object. The conception is onlj'' a discrete grouping of characteristics, while imagining gives a concrete image of the embodied whole in one living- form. c. So also in the conception which the reason forms by classifying objects according to some one or more characteristics found in each. After it has, by abstraction, selected the mark or marks in each indi- vidual, and by generalization brought many under it as the identifying feature of them all, then the reason, having thus formed a conception of a class, order, or genus of objects, by imagining gives a concrete image, unity, and body to that conception of genus, order, or class ; and it stands before the mind as a distinct and valid individuality, although it has no existence as the combination or ideal of a class, order, or genus, save in the reason that formed it. Its only real existence is in the several individuals which are classified under it. d. Here we fall upon the old dispute between the nominalists and the realists ; the former denying, as has here been done, that there can be any real and actual embodiment of the conception of a class, and claim- ing that only the individuals in the class are individually embodied, that THE INTELLECT. 571 body is individual in its nature, and not general. On the other hand, the realists claim that the conception under which a class of individual objects is generalized is also a real object, and has an actual and em- ' bodied existence. This controversy, which, as a speculative question, divided the schools, and kept them long in violent contention, and that only because it was carried on as a speculative, and not as a practical question, might have been speedily ended by a simple question of fact, and by calling on the realists to produce their individual, their real and embodied, form of a general conception. e. Passing from conceiving, we find that when we take up the opera- tions of remembering, the body or image of the object is given, in like manner, by imagining. Although the act of remembering never takes place except when the sensuous sign or figure of the fact that we have known the object before is brought in contact with the conception of the object, and of the fact that we have seen the object before, already in the mind,- yet this gives the remembrance of the conception of the object, and of the fact that we have seen it ; while the image, figure, and body of it are given to this remembered conception, by imagining. f. So also with regard to the operation of ratiocinating ; if a result or product is reached by the operation of ratiocinating, that result is embodied, so far as its nature admits of a body, by imagining. The real thing or force meant in the major premise, and the real thing stated in the minor premise, and the real result found in the conclusion, — that is, the real thing defined and expressed in the words of the several parts of the syllogism, — have thus form given them, when they are capable of it, by imagining ; as in the syllogism, " All men are mortal ; Cicero is a man ; therefore Cicero is mortal." When these statements are made, the reason, by imagining, gives the appropriate body or image to that ex- pressed in each. g. Again, when the reason rhetorizes, — that is, expresses in words clearly and persuadingly that which is meant in the cognizing, or ratio- cinating, or any other operation (for this is the office of rhetoric), — then, by imagining, are the image and body of the product of these operations given. h. And when the reason theorizes, and thus puts in its own place each and every bone in the skeleton, and wires them together, and sup- plies the nervous and muscular, and nutritive and other systems, then, must the imagination put on the soft covering of flesh, skin, color, com- plexion, expression, action, and bearing, which constitute the living image. i. When also the reason invents by bringing all the foregoing theories, and ratiocinatings, and conceptions to a single result, then that thing found, being, of course, a mere force, a dynamical relation must be 5*2 . AUTOLOGY. embodied. It is the act of imagining that gives the figure or image of the thing, while it is the act -of inventing that finds the inner force that is the real thing, which thing is demonstrated as practical by being wrought into a machine in appropriate materials ; and then by being put into operation. When complete the machine mUst perform and do the thing for which it was invented and made, in order to be valid and real. j. Thus have we applied the imagination to the operations of the rea- son which precede it ; and we find^that, so far, its office is to give body, image, or sensuous form to the product of some of the other operations of the mind. In this it reproduces forms, and scenes, and actions as they either have or might have occurred. SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. C. The reason imagines ideal creations, or idealizes. a. In ideal creations, first, the reason imagines ideal reproductions of the real ; second, the reason imagines enhanced ideal reproductions of the real ; third, the reason imagines perfected and beautified ideal repro- ductions of the real ; fourth, the reason fancies playful and censorious depreciation of all things, both ideal and real. b. In the first of these cases reason gives ideal reproductions or imitations of the real, whose excellence consists in their conformity and truthfulness to real life. In the second, the reason gives ideal enhan- cings of the ideal reproductions of the real, which carry them up to the lofty and sublime. In the third place, the reason carries up and perfects the ideal reproductions of the real not only, but that which, by ideal en- hancing, has been made sublime, it carries up to the beautiful. c. There are things in nature which are only real, others which are both real and sublime, and still others which are real and more than real, sublime and more than sublime ; they are real and beautiful ; for beauty overpowers sublimity, and conforms it to its own ideal, and its own figure, and features, and image. But the highest sublimity of nature is found, not in actual and sensuous forms, but in the ideals which the reason moulds on seeing nature ; and hence the highest sublimity and the high- est beauty are created when the reason, seeing the real, imagines the ideal. The highest sublimity is that ideal image which the reason im- agines when it sees something of the actual which is sublime ; and the highest beauty is that which the reason imagines when it sees something of real beauty. The sublime is the quantity overpowering the mould ; the beautiful is the mould comprehending the quantity, and conforming it to itself. d. In the fourth place the reason fancies sportive and derisive depre- THE INTELLECT. 573 ciations of the real ; the former is wit, the latter is sarcasm. They are both works of the reason when fancying, and not when imagining ; for they seek not the perfect, but the imperfect ; failure, and not success ; deformity, and not beauty. SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. D. The reason imagines ideal reproductions of the real. a. By this operation the reason reproduces in romance, in poetry, in painting, in sculpture," and in the drama, the real things which are their subjects severally, but in a heightened and more perfect form ; at least, the true artist will select the best view or appearance of his subject, and give that which will, of course, be superior to the ordinary views of the real. b. This reproduction is called ideal, because it is the work of the reason which imagines it, and is done often in the absence of the real object, and evolved by the imagination from the principles of symmetry and unity as they relate to the objects before us respectively. Thus Scott imagines the Waverley. Novels ; Milton, Paradise Lost ; Rubens, the Descent from the Gross; Powers, the Greek Slave; Shakspeare, the Play of Hamlet ; and in each of these cases, the real is' reproduced according to the different arts respectively, by the reason's imagining, in each, the forms and actions, scenes and characters, before us, and with which they have respectively to do. c. And here we come upon a most important distinction, viz., that between cognizing and imagining; i. e., the operation of the reason in cognizing a real external object by means of an idea and a sensuous per- ception, and the operation of the same reason in imagining an ideal creation. In the case of cognizing, the reason has its idea or concep- tion within itself, and applies it to the external object brought before it by the senses, and in this way cognizes 'it. On the contrary, in imagin- ing, the reason has no idea within itself, but cognizing the external ob- ject in the usual way in the first instance, it then imagines, and by im- agining transmutes that form into ideal proportions and perfectness. It creates thus the ideal upon the real, after the real is cognized. d. Here we may raise the question as to what is the difference be- tween an idea and an ideal. What an idea is, and how it is obtained, we have already very fully set forth in the chapter on the formation of original ideas from the primary facts of consciousness. An idea is a delimitized fact, or a delimitized conception ; i. e., an idea is that which is necessary and universal, as the idea of substance, cause, quality ; and these ideas, as- we have shown, are formed from the facts of con- sciousness, and when formed and in the possession of the mind,. they 5*4 - AUTOLOGY. constitute the language of the soul into which it translates the facts of the external world, when they are brought before it by the senses. e. On the contrary, ideals are the completed images of things already known, formed by the reason from facts already cognized, by an act of the transforming imagination. The reason, in forming an idea, strips the fact from which it forms it of all its peculiarities, and retains only that which is universal and necessary, while on the other hand, in form- ing an ideal, it adds to the fact every accessory and peculiarity by which it can be completed and perfected. An ideal, therefore, is individual, and singular, and peculiar, while an idea is universal and necessary.* The former relates to form, the latter to essence ; the one to knowledge, the other to beauty. /. If, then, it be asked, Whence does the mind derive its ideals? the reply is, that it does not derive them, but creates them. Are they in the mind as a part of its original furniture ? No ; the capability of making ideals, as of forming ideas, is man's original inheritance, but not the ideals or the ideas themselves. As has already appeared, the reason forms its ideas from facts of consciousness ; so also it forms its ideals from external facts. It can find its original ideas, formed from the facts of consciousness, embodied in external objects, but its ideals can never be found in any external object. g. Hence an idea is cognitive, while an ideal is perfective. A cogni- tive idea may be in the mind as a means of cognizing. a real object, but an ideal of an- object can never be in the mind until the object is itself first cognized ; then the reason may create the ideal by imagining it as a transfiguration of the real. h. Is it asked, How does the reason imagine an ideal ? we reply, - that it imagines an ideal by placing itself at the natural centre of the object to be idealized, and there so identifying itself with it as to send out its imaginings according to the nature and laws of the thing it thus possesses ; and the lino that circumscribes the limits of these ima- ginings so sent out, encloses the object, and gives to it its form in pro- portions and figure harmonious with that individual and central nature, from the centre of which, and according to the laws of which, the rea- son imagines. i. The reason at once, when possessed of the central principle, by a natural law of harmonious intelligence, imagines the complete form of the whole object. This is forming or imagining an ideal. Fancying, we shall find, is very different : it takes the centre, to be sure, of an object, but it forms upon it unhomogeneous and inharmonious parts and pro- portions. The imagination is concentric and harmonious, the fancy is eccentric and heterogeneous. THE INTELLECT. 575 SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. E. The reason enhances. a. The reason imagines enhanced ideal- reproductions of the real ; or, the reason enhances, magnifies, and sublimes ideal images of the real : this is the sublime. The essence of sublimity lies in this, that the object rises above and overweighs the limits and proportions of itself, and shows a magnitude and power greater than its own perfection' re- quires. Thus the hero is sublime because he rises above that desire of self-preservation which is called the first law of nature ; he is too great for it. Mont Blanc is sublime, for our senses cannot grasp the whole of it, and we are overwhelmed with it. So of the boundless and fathomless ocean and sky. Thus that is sublime to us which is greater than our faculties can grasp. b. When the apostle says, " I saw a great white throne, and Him that sat thereon, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away," the sublimity lies in the inexpressibleness of the grandeur of the scene. The mind fails to comprehend it, and is overwhelmed with its vastness ; and thus is it sublime. c. We will not here further discuss the sublime, or rather the rea- son's operations of enhancing, but will pass to the operation of beauti- fying or perfecting; and then, in contrasting the one with the other, and in discriminating the one from the other, we shall more clearly and con- cisely define and set forth both the sublime and the beautiful, or, rather, the operations of the reason in enhancing and perfecting, or in subliming and beautifying. SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. . F. The reason beautifies or perfects. a. The reason imagines perfected and beautified ideal reproductions of the real ; or, the reason perfects and beautifies ideal images of the real : this is the beautiful. In producing the beautiful, the reason im- agines all the material subordinated to its ideal, or compressed within its model, and that its model is full. b. If the question be raised, as it often is, Where does the reason get its model ? it may be replied, that it gets the model precisely where it finds the material to fill it. Then, and thus, it produces its model by its own creative power, the perfect model of beauty. The perfectness of the reason's ideal is the outgoing of its rays of comprehending intelli- gence from its own centre, in symmetry with itself as a centre, and in harmony with one another as a whole. This gives a perfect rational soul. Here the reason gets its first ideal of a perfect rational soul, and hero it learns how, when any object comes before it, to place itself at its centre, 576 AUTOLOGY. and throw out its rays from thence, until their varied limits give the out- line of the highest perfectness and beauty of that thing. c\ This is the beautiful in all things. It has no one real object, but is evolved from each object when the reason enters it and takes posses- sion of its centre as its own throne of intelligence, and sends out its ra} r s in varied lengths, colors, and temperatures, in a symmetry and in a proportion controlled by the central force. Accordingly all things are beautiful just in proportion as they conform to the central force of their own being. d. The solar system is beautiful because it is controlled by the central law of gravity. A flower is beautiful just as it fulfils the law of its own growth. .If the law has been impeded, the flower is not beautiful. So a human being is the highest form of beauty, if that being be a pure, intelligent, and loving soul ; and this purity, intelligence, and love have, like a quickening spirit, become completely embodied in a human form. A body, male or female, in which the whole soul, in its strength and grace, its reason and heart, its conscience and will, is embodied fitly and homogeneously, is the perfection of human beauty : this is true beaut}''. e. That, however, that is truly beautiful, may not please us ; for we may have selfish and sensual, contracted and monstrous notions of the beautiful, and thus be pleased with that which is deformed and ugly, and displeased with that which is in symmetry with the laws of its own nature. The statue of the Apollo Belvedere is a specimen of manly beauty, because it is conformed to the model which the reason evolved from the centre of what constitutes a perfect manhood. So the statue of the Venus de' Mcdicis is a model of a perfect woman, because it also is conformed to the model which the reason has evolved from the centre of what constitutes a perfect womanhood, and that in harmony with, and in embodiment of, the forces which give a perfect womanhood. /. Reason thus forms the ideal of the beautiful, just as it forms any idea from the facts of its own being. The beautiful, as it relates to hu- manity, is a fact, the reason's own ideal of itself as a rational soul, and itself embodied in that ideal. The reason forms the ideal of the perfect of any particular thing from the thing itself in an imperfect state ; for all things are imperfect as they are found in nature. g. And here we come upon the old question again of the nominalists and realists ; viz., " Is there any such thing in actual being as the em- bodiment of a general conception or ideal of the beautiful ? ■■' We have -already seen that there is no such thing as an embodiment of the conception of a class, order, or genus. Just so there is no such thing as any embodiment anywhere of the one highest ideal of the beautiful ; for beauty is always individual and peculiar, and not general. The THE INTELLECT. 571 concer ion of man as a race has no real existence apart from the indi- viduals that make up the race of man ; it is only a conception in the mind to which the reason may imagine a fitting form ; but it is all con- ceptual and ideal, and not at all actual and real. h. Just so of beauty ; there is no embodiment of it as such anywhere, either individual or general. When pei-sons talk of the beautiful, if they speak intelligently, they mean the perfect in each individual of all kinds and classes, and not any generalized conception or ideal of any class, order, or genus, or of them all summed up in one whole ; for there is no such thing or being anywhere, any more than there is anywhere an actual embodiment of the conception of the genus homo as a whole. i. God is no such idea or ideal of the beautiful ; for all beauty is in its nature individual, and not general. And God is no summing up of the created beauties of the universe, but is an individual, peculiar and totally unlike all other beings in his self-existent and infinite nature. God, therefore, may be a beautiful God, but is not a beautiful anything else. He is not the beautiful nor the sublime, as such, but he is God, and as God has all the perfections of a God, and is a God sublime and beautiful ; but he is not the sublime nor the beautiful as such, fur there is neither in heaven nor earth, in God nor in man, any such thing ; but beauty is individual, and is created in relation to each individual thing by the reason which imagines it, acting from this central thought and force of the thing or object before it. j. The reason imagines beauty when any object is brought before it ; but beauty exists in its highest form nowhere else except in the mind, and there it exists not as an original ideal, but as an ideal created by the reason on its coming in contact with the real. The mind has neither original ideas nor original ideals ; but it has original powers of reason to form the one and create the other. It forms original ideas from the facts of consciousness by delimiting them ; that is, by taking away their peculiarities and reducing them t ULTIES THEMSELVES? a. The faculties of the Intellect are the Consciousness, the Reason, and the Sense. The answer to the question is, that if the trustworthi- ness of any faculty of the mind be called in question, and if it be sought to vindicate and establish it by the testimony of any other fac- ulty of the mind, then the trustworthiness of that other faculty of the mind must be assumed, in order either to establish or impeach the trust- worthiness of the faculty put on trial. b. But if we may assume that one faculty is trustworthy, why not another ? and if we may accuse one faculty of incompetency or faith- lessness, why not another ? Shall the reason accuse the sense, or the sense the reason, or both impeach the consciousness ? Who is to judge where we shall begin, or which faculty shall be the delinquent; which the judge by which it shall be tried, and which shall be the witness by whose testimony such delinquency is to be proved ? The whole attempt either to establish or invalidate the competence or credibility of any faculty of the mind, or of the mind as a whole, is therefore both self- contradictory and absurd. In every case the entire trustworthiness of the mind must of necessity be assumed. c. If we presume the mind, either in whole or in part, incompetent or untrustworthy, we by this self-same act assume and assert the com- petence and credibility of the self-same mind, and that by the fact that we accept its judgment upon its own competency or incompetency. d. Thus the very doublings as to the mind's competency, and the very judgment by which we either condemn or acquit it, are proof of its credibility, and of its reliableness. To attempt to prove the validity of the mind by its own testimony is therefore absurd ; equally absurd would it be to attempt to prove the incompetence or the untrustworthi- ness of the human mind by the testimony of angels, or of God, or of any other order of intelligences ; for even God or angel, in passing a judgment upon the human mind (for the human mind to accept on trust) must of necessity submit that judgment to the judgment of the human mind itself, and thus, in the very act of condemning the human mind for incompetency, must pronounce it competent to understand at THE INTELLECT. 601 least its own condemnation. Thus is it impossible even for God, or angels, much more for men, to convict the human mind of incompetence before a human tribunal. The only tribunal for the human mind is the human mind itself ; it can appeal from its own judgment of to-day to its own judgment of yesterday, or of to-morrow ; and these are its only re- sources ; and these appeals themselves assume the competency of the mind as a whole, from whose specific and local judgment in a particular case it, for the time, appeals to its own decision, past or to come. A higher intelligence may correct or add to the knowledge of a lower, but it must in so doing assume the competence of the lower to receive and understand such corrections and additions. He must make all commu- nications in accordance with the fundamental principles of all knowledge, which pervade and underlie all being and all possibility of knowing in the whole universe of God, and assume necessarily that the rational be- ings with whom he communicates both know and understand these principles. CHAPTER III. WHAT IS THE LIMIT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE? a. The limit of human knowledge relates both to nature and to ex- tent ; i. e., the nature of the thing to be known, and the extent of it. As to extent, the human mind can never fully know all the finite, as the finite objects of nature are yet so very numerous. God's works are, by reason of their numerousness and extent, " past finding out" by the hu- man faculties, for want of time and locomotion, and not because these works are in their nature unknowable, or because man is incompetent to know them. Man can never fully know or comprehend the finite, because it multiplies and extends itself forever and ever. Eternity and an angel's faculties could not enable man to find the end of God's works ; yet these works are not infinite, but finite. b. But what of the infinite ? Can man know it ? Does the nature of the thing to be known, limit and cut off man's power to know ? Cer- tainly not ; that which is real has thereby in itself the element of re- ality ; man's soul is a reality ; and all realities are mutually impenetra- ble, both in the world of nature and in the world of spirit. God as a spirit, and man as a spirit, are mutually impenetrable, and both, being conscious and intelligent, must know and recognize each other in that 76 602 AUTOLOGY. contact, — that is, a contact both of being and of consciousness, of thoughts and of actions, — and must of necessity give mutual recog- nition. c. But can the mind of man comprehend the Infinite ? To this it is replied that the Infinite is real, having all positive and all possible ex- cellences and realities centred in itself, and is thus the being and unity of all possible perfections. The Infinite is not the sum total of all conceivable quantities, numbers, or magnitudes, nor is it the added- up forces of nature in the universe : that would be only the finite still, and would be indeed incomprehensible. But the Infinite is the positive perfectness of a living personality, whose centre and circumference are in himself, and, as a complete and perfect personality, is both knowable and comprehensible by the human mind. Man may, and does, know God, just as he knows man, only more so, for God is a perfect person- ality, while man is incomplete. d. The man of to-day knows God precisely as he knows his fellow- men to-day; viz., by contact, by recognition, and by observation. He finds God by first finding himself as a rational spirit whose existence- had a beginning. With this fact in his possession, his reason imme- diately affirms God as the free, affcctional, rational, and ethical cause of that beginning, and of the man thus begun : from this fact of man's being, given by the consciousness, the reason both forms the idea of God and affirms his actual existence. After God is thus found, man, enlightened by the ideas and facts affirmed by the reason, comes to a consciousness of his actual being and presence, and to feel that in Him " he lives, and moves, and has his being; " that " He is not far from every one of us," and that " we are all his offspring." Possessed thus of a knowledge of God, man more than " touches the hem of his garment." Conscious of being in the divine image, as a free, affec- tional, rational, and ethical soul, which had a beginning, man lays hold on God with the grasp of that consciousness,_and, either with or without a logical process, exclaims in most intelligent confidence, '•' My Lord and my God." Thus man knows God, as a fact and a reality, by both rea- son and experience. He thus finds God as his beginner, and having thus found a beginner for his own soul's being, he has thereby found a beginner for the universe and all which it contains. For if the author of the soul exists, no inferior author, cause, or beginner is needed. Thus man finds, and thus he comprehends, the Infinite in the personality of his beginner, author, and ci-eator, and the creator Of all things, a per- sonal God, absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute. THE INTELLECT. 603 CHAPTER IV. INTELLECT POWER. a. By Intellect Power is meant the power to know, and the power which knowledge gives. This power lies in the essential knowingness or consciousness, and in the essential comprehendingness or the reason, and in the sense. The senses are the means of contact with the outer world, and on their perfectness much of human knowledge and mental power depend. The intellect is much more potent, comprehensive, and effective when it is supplied with a complete and perfect sense-organiza- tion. Mechanics, music, poetry, and sculpture are entirely dependent on the senses ; yet the senses may be perfect where the mind rs weak, and in the absence of any soul at all, as in brute life. Genius, therefore, lies in the reason, though the senses alone can give form and body to its creations. b. Intellect power consists in the power to know by any and all the processes of knowing, especially knowing by the consciousness and the • reason. The first is both sensuous and comprehending, yet neither alone, but is a peculiar and essential • intelligence, composed of both combined in one indissoluble unity. The power of the reason is intui- tive, comprehending, and cognitive. It discerns the things that are, that may be, and that must be, and thus has in itself the power of beginning to know ; i. e., the power to know absolutely, and the elements and first principles of the knowable and of all knowledge. With these two powers, viz., consciousness and the reason, armed with the facts of the one and the ideas of the other, the mind not only knows absolutely, but knows the absolute. To know absolutely is to begin to know, and to know the absolute is to know the perfect ; and this is the climax of intellectual power. c. Armed with sense and thrown into the midst of the universe, man, with his consciousness and reason, may be ever learning, and go for- ward ever finding something more in God's works, and adding to his facts and to his knowledge. Man's genius can invent all machinery and instruments of use. He can master and appropriate all nature's forces, and rule them, and with them extend his dominion over all things in earth and sky. He explores the depths of nature, finds out her secrets, and appropriates her mighty elements to his use. He penetrates the hidden recesses and climbs to the dizzy heights in the world of the 604 AUTOLOGY. mind, and ascends to the very being and throne of God. The principles of science, philosophy, art, government, economy, mechanics, religion, all contribute to his amount of knowledge, and the power that it be- stows. Man's reason can enter also the world of imagination, and, armed with the acute and subtile cunning of the senses, may fill it with ideal creations in poetry, the drama, music, sculpture, and architecture, rearing another universe on the creation of God. Thus all things in the universe yield to the mastery of man's intellect power. No limit can be given to his acquisition of knowledge, or to the amount of power which knowledge gives ; for the finite is an unending progress of addi- tions of things to things, in which the soul may go forward, cognizing and to cognize, forever and ever, and never come to an end ; while the infinite and the absolute are complete and perfect, comprehensible and within the grasp of the human mind. Man knows absolutely first, and relatively afterwards. He first knows himself, and then God, and then nature ; i. e., he knows himself absolutely ; then, by this absolute knowl- edge, he knows God the absolute ; and lastly, by this absolute knowing, and the knowing of the absolute, he is prepared to know nature and the finite in its endlessness, forever and forever. Thus intellect power rules all things. It discovers science, creates art, gives laws, fights battles ; it conquers nature and sways mind ; it sits in judgment upon everything, and is the lord, ruler, executive, and dis- poser of all things. PART IV. THE CONSCIENCE CHAPTER I. THE FACT AND NATURE OF THE CONSCIENCE. SECT. I. AN ETHICAL JUDGMENT IS THE HIGHEST FUNCTION OF A RATIONAL SOUL. a. Up to this point we have brought the human mind through the worlds of liberty, affection, and intelligence, and we have found in them all a distinctive and peculiar humanity. We now rise above all the action of the will, the affections, and the intellect, in which they perform their especial work, and come to the matter of discerning what is the moral character of the action of the will, and of the other faculties of the mind as under its guidance ; and this act of self-judgment on what we have already done, and of approving it as right or condemning it as wrong, and of holding ourselves as guilty or innocent accordingly, — this is the supreme function of the rational soul. The faculty that performs this function is the conscience. b. In the faculty of the conscience man ascends to the highest development and dignity of his nature. Man is spirit, and, therefore, in all things differs from mere animal nature ; his faculties are shared by none of the brute creatures ; in his will, his affections, his intellect, and his conscience, he is altogether sui generis. Yet in the faculty of the conscience he rises to the sublimest height of a rational soul. c. The conscience is not only different in nature and functions, but distinctive in its individuality from all the other faculties, and rises supreme over them all. While with the will man exercises freedom, and with the affections he loves, and with the intellect he knows, it is with the conscience that he ethicizes, or passes ethical judgments. 605 606 AUTOLOGY. d. With this faculty man imposes moral obligation upon himself, and subordinates liberty, love, and knowledge to the right. It is in the ex- ercise of the conscience that man rises above himself, and confesses obli- gation to that which is higher than he. • e. It is by the conscience that he ascends the throne of judgment, and pronounces upon the moral quality of all things. Men, angels, and God are not exempt from the surveillance of man. in the exercise of the moral susceptibility and moral imperative of his conscience. Conscience stands the highest of all the faculties, and is supreme in its office as ethical censor and judge. /. In their natures respectively, however, all the faculties are unique, indispensable, and of the same high nature ; for if there were no will, there could be no affections ; and if there were neither will nor affections, there could be no intellect ; and if the will, the affections, and the intel- lect did not exist, then there could be no conscience. g. Conscience is not only the highest in office, but the highest be- cause the last developed, and because built like a dome upon the pillars of all the other faculties. h. To exercise liberty, and to wield the prerogatives of a self-proprie- tor, is to perform the most essential functions of manhood, and to show that without which manhood cannot be. i. So also does the exercise of pure sympathy and affection belong exclusively to man as possessing the affectional nature of a spiritual being. j. The intuitive comprehending of the reason also belongs exclusively to man ; this is a power which sees the beginning and the end, the in- tent and design, as well as the means and reality of an object or an event, and which grasps all first truths ; without this capability no rational soul «v ' V - V %