THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID ELEMENTS INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY, DESIGNED AS A TEXT-BOOK BY THOMAS C. UPHAM, PROFESSOR OF MORAL AN© INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY AND INSTRCCTER OF HEBREW IR BOWDOIN COLLEGE. SECOND EDITION. PORTLAND, PI HUSHED BY SHIRLEY. AND HYDK. PRINTED BY J. GRIFFIN, 1828. DISTRICT OF MAINE, as. BE IT REMEMBERED, That on this 20th day of January, A.D. 1827, in the fifty first year of the Independence of the United States of Amer- ica, Mr Thomas C. Upham, of the District of Maine, has deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in the words following, viz. " Elements of Intellectual Philosophy ; designed as a Text-Book. Portland, published by William Hyde. Joseph Griffin, printer, Bruns- wick. 1827." In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, "An act for the encouragement of learning by securing the copies of mapsfr charts, and books to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned;" and also to an act, entitled "An act, supple- mentary to an act, entitled, an act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned ; and extending the bene' fits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical, and other prints." JOHN MUSSEY, Jun. Clerk of the District Court of Maine. U c PREFACE. The present work has been prepared in the hope of promoting a more general acquaintance with an important department of science. As it is designed chiefly for those, who are young and are in a course of education, it lays claims to no other merit, than what might or- dinarily be expected in a text-book, founded on the inquiries of ma- ny valuable writers. Guided by their researches, it endeavours to give a condensed, but impartial view of Intellectual Philosophy, so far as its principles aie understood at the present time ; and the wri- ter has learnt from a number of esteemed instructers of youth, that his design is approved by thera. He is by no means insensible to this favourable sentiment ; and if the present work should prove to be the means of awakening an increased intereajfch mental science, as its reception hitherto seems tqjromise, he utflL fifj^l himself amply rewarded for whi^v*r tr^ubie^^Jr-epartrfion may have occasioned. Intellectual Philosophy has grown up, like other sciences, from small beginnings. Many propositions, coming too in many instances from able writers, have been thrown aside ; truth has been sifted out from the mass of errour, imtil at last a great number of impor- tant principles ^s ascertained* Sut wMBe it is exceedingly necessary, that our youth should be made acquainted with these principles, it is impossible,that they should go through with all the complicated discus- sions, which have been held in respect to them. Many of the books, in which these discussions are contained, have become exceedingly rare ; and if they were not so, no small number of students, who are now in the course of as thorough an education as our country affords, would not be able to purchase them. And besides, by placing be- fore the student a mass of crude and conflicting statements, his mind becomes perplexed. To be able to resolve such a ma=s into its ele- ments, and to separate truth from errour, implies an acquaintance with the laws of the intellect, and a degree of mental discipline, which he is not yet supposed to have acquired ; and hence instead of obtain- ing much important knowledge, he becomes distrustful of every thing. Now these evils, saying nothing of the loss of time attendant on ■such a course, are to be remedied in the same way as in other sciences. r M ' co i PREFACE. In otiier departments of learning 1 ingenious men discuss ooinls of dif- ficulty ; conflicting arguments are accumulated, until the preponder- ance on one side is such, that the questional debate is considered settled. Others employ themselves in collecting facts, in classifying them, and in deducing general principles. And when all this is done, the important truths of the science, collected from such a variety of sources, and suitably arranged and expressed, are laid before the student, in order that he may become acquainted with them. Very seldom anyone thinks it advisable, that the pupil, in the course of an education limited to a very few years, should be obliged to attempt an acquaintance with every scientific tract and book, whether of greater or less value. It is neither desirable nor possible, that, he should be made tc consult all the Memoirs of Institutes and of Royal Societies ; and still less to read the multitudes of half-formed sug- gestions, which are either struck out in the momentary heat of de- bate, or are developed from all quarters in the natural progress of the mind. It belongs rather to professional men and to public instruc- ted, to engage in this minute and laborious examination, and to pre- sent those, whom they instruct, with the results of their inquiries. It may indeed be desirable to give them some knowledge of the history of a science, and to point out such authors as are particularly wor- thy of being consulted by those, whose inclination and opportunities justify more particular investigations. But this is all, that is either demanded, or can be profitable in the ordinary course of education. And this is whattfr attempted to be done in the present work. It has been my desire and endeavour, as was intimated at the be- ginning of these remarks, to give a concise, but correct view of the prominent principles in Intellectual Philosophy, so far as they seem- ed at present to be settled. The statement of these principles is attended with a conspicuous summary of the facts and arguments, on which they are based ; together with occasional remarks on the ob- jections, which have been made from time lo time. In select- ing facts in confirmation of the principles laid down, I have sought those, which not only had relation to the point in hand, but which promised a degree of interest for young minds. Simplicity and uni- formity of style have been aimed at, although in a few instances the statements of the writers referred to have been admitted with only slight variations, when it was thought they had been peculiarly hap- py in them. THbTHAS C. UPHABr. Bowdoin College, (Maine.) May, 1828. CONTENTS. Chap. I. — utility of intellec-* III. — original state op thk TCAL PHILOSOPHY. MIND. Prejudice against this science Of the metaphysics of the schools Its supposed practical inutility Its supposed practical inutility an swered It should be studied because it tends \ to gratify a reasonable curiosity 5 Teaches us how to direct our in- ! quiries 6 Remarks of Mr. Locke on this point 7 Helps us in the correction of mental erroora 8 A help in directing in education 9. Instructs us not only as to our thoughts but language Has a connection with other de- partments of science Teaches us to revere the wisdom of our Creator Of the mental effort necessary in this study. SF.CT. Of the thoughts of the soul in dis- 23 2 tinction from the soul itself 3 Of original or innate knowledge Opinions on this subject before 4 ! the time of Locke 25 Enumeration of innate or connat- uial principles 26 Argument on the subject of innate knowledge 27 Locke's opinions on this subject 2S Opinions of Plato and Aristotle 29 Opinions at the present time 30 in 12 IV. THE SENSES AND EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. Of general classifications of the j intellectual powers 31 I Of the classification into the Under- • Hiding and Wil ' Of the classification II. IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. Importance of preliminary state- ments in Intellectual Philosophy 14 There are original and authorita- tive grounds of belief lo The reality and certainty of our persoaal existence 1G Certainty of personal identity. 17 The external, material world has an existence. 18 Confidence is to be reposed in the memory 10 Human testimony is to be received as a ground of knowledge 20 Of the distinction between primary nto active and intellectual powers Classification into external and in- ternal states of the mind, &c. Meaning of perception, &c. Of the primary and secondary qual- ities of matter 36 Sense and perceptions of smell 37 Sense and perceptions of ta^te 33 Sense of hearing and of souikis 39 Manner in which we learn the place of sounds 40 Of hearing and language 41 The sense &. perceptions of touch 42 The idea of externality suggested bv the sense of touch 43 3o Benefits of the sense of sight and ultimate truths 21 Statement of the mode or process Admission of primary truths agree- in visual perception able to right feelings towards Connection which the brain has the S'ioreme Eeine ° 22 with perception 15 I CONTENTS. SECT Impressions on the senses are ante- cedents of perceptions 47 Estimation of distances by sight 48 Estimation of distance when unaid- ed by intermediate objects 49 Of objects seen on the ocean, &c. 50 Idea of extension not originally from sight 51 Measurements of magnitude by the eye 52 Knowledge of the figure of bodies by the sight The senses reciprocally assist each other Supposed feelings of a being called into existence in the full posses- sion of his powers The senses considered as the foun- dation of belief and knowledge 56 Historical notices on this subject 57 V. INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. The senses are not the only source of our ideas. 58 f. The great sources of our knowledge are twofold, external and internal 59 Writers who have objected to this twofold origin of cur knowledge 60 Of what can truly be ascribed to the senses and what not 61 ... Instances of notions, which have an internal origin 6'2 Other instances of a like kind 63 Of certain ideas which are to be re- ferred to both sources 64 Origin of cur idea of power 65 VI. NATURE AND CLASSIFICATION OF SIMPLE IDEAS. Division of ideas as they are more or less complex 66 Manner of determining what are simple ideas 67 Futility of the definitions of the Schools 68 Some ideas must necessarily be unsusceptible of definition 69 Division of our simple ideas 70 Simple ideas from one sense only 71 Ideas from more than one sense 72 Simple ideas from reflection 73 Simple ideas froii both of the above mentioned sources 74 SECT. Ideas of existence and unity 75 Of ideas by means of the senses which are not strictly external 76 Evidence in favour ot this account of the origin of our ideas 77 VII. COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUB- STANCES. Relation of simple ideas to complex 78 Division of complex ideas into three kinds 79 Complex ideas of substances 80 Spiritual existences included under this class 81 Our knowledge of spirit the same as of matter 82 Of cohesion of bodies and motion by impulse 83 Explanations on certain ideas of this class 84 Remarks on complexity in the states of the mind 85 Connection existing between mate- rial substances to be considered 86 Of chimerical ideas of substances 87 Of what is meant by real ideas 88 j Importance of having real ideas 89 I Of our ideas of angels 90 j Origin of the idea of God 9 : VIII SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. Meaning of modes and classes of ' j them 92 Complex ideas called simple modes 93 ! Of simple modes from number 94 Of simple medes from duration 95 i Simple modes from extension 96 | Nature of the idea of infinity 97 ! Complex ideas called mixed modes 98 j Of the different ways of forming mixed modes 99 Not the same mixed modes in all languages 100 IX COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. Of the susceptibility of perceiving or feeling relations 101 Occasions on which feelings of re- lations may arise 102 Of the use of correlative terms 103 Of the great number of our ideas of relation 104 Of proportional relations 105 CONTENTS. SECT. Certain terms are relative which are supposed to be positive 100 Of ideas of" natural relations 107 Of ideas of instituted or conven- I tional relations 0i- Cause and effect ideas of relation 100 Ideas of relation implying or in- j volving cause and effect 110,1 Place is an ilea of relation 111 Chronological dates involve ideas of relation Modes, substances, and relations resolvable into simple ideas The mind should be furnished with a store of ideas 113 113 X. OT CONCEPTIONS. Meaning of conceptions and how they differ from certain other Bfetes of the mind Conceptions of objects of eight Of the influence of habit on our conceptions Of the subserviency of our con- ceptions to description Of conceptions attended with a momentary belief Conceptions which are joined with perceptions Of our conceptions at tragical representations Application of these principles to diversities in mental character XII. LANGUAGE. (l)NAT. SIGNS. SECT. Our mental states are to be made known 138 Thoughts first expressed by ges- tures and the countenance 139 Illustrations of the great power of natural signs 140 Pantomime among the Romans 141 System of signs among the North American Indians 142 Symbolic exhibitions of Hebrews MS Instinctive interpretation of cer- tain natural signs 144 Use of natural signs 145 XIII.— LANGUAGE. (2) ORAL SIGNS. Original formation of oral signs 146 Oral signs in general arbitrary 147 Words at first few in number 148 Formation of general names 149 Formation of appellatives the re- sult of a feeling of resemblance 150 Our earliest generalizations often incorrect 151 Illustrations of our first classifica- tions from Savages of Watte oo 152 Formation of verbs 153 Formation of adjectives, &c. 154 Of the origin of conjunctions 155 101 |j Further remarks on their meaning 150 Of the origin of proper names 157 Principle of selection and signifi- cancy of proper names 158 in; 117 118 1 1!' 120 122 XI. PARTICULAR AND GENERAL ABSTRACT IDEAS. Origin of abstractions, &e. Class of particular abstract ideas Formation of the same Of generalizations of the same Of particular abstractions in poetry, painting. &c. Of general abstract ideas Relative suggestions Of classifications of objects Of general abstract ideis in con- nection with numbers, &c Speculations of philosophers Different opinions formerly pre- vailing Of the opinions of the Realists Of the opinions of the Nominalists Opinions of the Couceptualists Histories of philosophical opinions 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 13 1 (4 135 1 137 XIV. -LANGUAGE. (3) WRIT. SIGNS. Causes which led to the forma- tion of written siens 159 The first artificial signs, address- to the eye, were pictures 100 Of hierogfyphical writing 161 Written characters ofthe Chinese 102 The Chinese character an im- provement on bierocrlyphical 163 Written marks as signs of sounds 104 Formation of syllabic alphabets 105 XV. — RIGHT USE OF WORDS. Imperfections of words 1GG Nol to be used without meaning 107 I stand for distinct ideas 108 The same word not to be used at Ba ne time in different senses 169 Meaning of words as used by CONTENTS. SECT. different persons 170 Words to be employed agreeably to good and reputable use 171 What constitutes this use 172 The nature of the subject is to be considered 1/3 Not words for all our ideas 174 Of the definition of words 175 Of an universal language 176 Remarks of Condillac on the changes, &c. of language 177 XVI. CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGE. Remarks on peculiarities of style 178 Characteristics of style in unciv- ilized nations 179 Origin of apologues, &c. ISO Style of civilized nations 181 Characteristics of language de- pend on the habits of the people 182 Languages help us in forming an idea of national character 183 Correspondence between national intellect & progress oflanguage 184 Different languages suited to dif- ferent minds, &c. 185 Views of Hermes in respect to the English, ^c. languages 18C Same author in respect to Greek & Roman character & literat. 187 Requisites of an interpreter 188 j XVII. LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. Meaning of mental association 189 Resemblance its first general law 190 Not in every particular necessary 191 Resemblance in the effects 192 Resemblance in sounds of words 193 Contrast the second general law 194 Practical applications of this principle This principle of association the foundation of antithesis 196 Contiguity the third general law 197 Cause &. effect fourth primary law 198 Secondarv laws of association 199 Of genius, &c. 200 Prevailing laws of association in poetry and in the sciences 201 Dependence of transitions in style on association 202 Associations suggested by pres- 195 SKCT ent objects of perception 203 Historical remarks on the doctrine of association 204 XVIII. — CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. Association sometimes misleads our judgments 205 Ideas of extension and time 206 Of high and low notes in music 207 Ideas of extension and colour 208 Whether there be heat in fire, &c. 209 Whether there be meaning in words 210 Benefit of examining such con- nections of thought 211 Power of the will over mental as- sociations 212 Associations controlled by an in- direct voluntary power 213 XIX. OF INTELLECTUAL HABITS. Nature and extent of habits 2 14 Habits of perception, &c 215 Hubits of external perception in connection with the improve- ment of the senses 216 Habits in connection with associa. 217 Habits of volition or willing 2l8 Habits of will or volition further considered • 219 Habits of reasoning fy imagination 220 Habits in connection with the emotions and passions 221 Of the intellectual habits of men 222 in active life XX. -OF ATTENTION. General nature of attention 223 Different degrees of attention 224 Dependence of memory on atten. 2 5 Further illustrations of the same 226 Relation of this principle to the views of Reid & Hartley in re- spect to muscular habits 227 Objections to the views of Reid and Hartley Of attention in legerdemain, fee. Whether the mind can attend to more than one object at the same time ? On attending at the same time to different parts in music 228 230 23 J CONTENTS SECT. Of attention in the visual percep- tion of external objects 233 Notico of some facts which fa- vour the above doctrine 233 Rapid transference of atten. one cause of difficulty in criticism 234 Attention in reading 235 XXI. MEMORY. (Explanation of the memory 23G Differences in strength of memory 2:17 Instances of powerful memory in operating with numbers 238 Of exploded opinions in regard to memory 239 Effects of disease on the memory 240 Suggestions on the ultimate res- toration of thought 241 Further considerations relating to the same subject 242 Memory of the uneducated 24;j Memory of men of philosophic minds 244 Of the memory of the aged 245 Memory of persons of a rich im- agination 246 On the compatibility of strong memory and good judgment 247 Intentional mem. or recollection 248 Instance illustrative of preceding 249 1 Marks of a good memory 250 Of the advantages of this faculty 251 Means of improving the memory 252 Of committing to writing as a means of aiding the memory 253 Mnemonics or systems of artifi- cial memory 254 XXIT. — DREAMING. Definition & prevalence of dreams 255 Connection of dreams with our waking thoughts 25G Dreams are often caused by our sensations 257 Explanation of the incoherency of dreams. (1st cause) 258 Second cause of the incoherency of dreams 259 Apparent reality of dreams (1st cause.) 200 | Apparent reality of dreams. (2d cause.) 261 Estimate of time in dreaming 262 Of the senses sinking to sleep •in succession 263 Remarks on Somnambulists 264 XXII I. OK BELIEF & EVIDENCE. Of truth and different kinds of it 265 Truth in relation to the mind 266 Nature and degrees of belief 2(57 Of evidence in general 268 Evidence of the senses 269 Consciousness a ground of belief 270 Of intuitive perceptions 271 Memory a ground of belief 27 I Evidence of testimony 27.*> Origin of belief in testimony 274 Same subject continued 275 Reasoning as a ground of belief 270 XXIV. — EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. Importance of the evidence of testimony and its perversions 277 Of the competency of the person who testifies 27c' Of habits of veracity in connec- tion with testimony 270 Influence of friendship, &.c. 280 Influence of personal interest 281 Of the influence on testimony of a spirit of partisanship 282 Of the memory in connection with testimony 283 Influence of the possibility of a confutation on testimony 2^4 On the testimony of the dying 28."> Credibility cf historical accounts 280 XXV. DEMONSTRATIVE REAS- ON INC.. Definition of propositions and kinds of them 28? Of the process of the mind in all cases of reasoning Grounds of the selection of prop- ositions Subjects of dernonstr. reasoning Use of definitions and axioms in demonstrative reasoning 201 The opposites of demonstrative reasonings absurd 29.2 Demonstrative reasonings admit not of different degrees of belief 293 Nature of demonstrative certainty 201 Use of diagrams in demonstrations 205 Of signs in general as connected with reasonin-r 296 ■>• 2.-0 290 CONTENTS. nfluence of demonstrative reas- oning on the mental character 297 : XXVI. MORAL REASONING. )f the subjects and importance of moral reasoning 298 i lature of moral certainty 299 j >f reasoning from analogy 300 } lantion to be used in reasoning from analogy 301 J >f reasoning by induction 302 i »f the caution necessary in in- ductive processes 303 | ombined or accumulated argu- ments 304 limitation of power in reasoning 305 -equisites of a skilful reasoner 306 [oral reasoning as suited to our situation as accountable beings 307 lXVII. DIALECTICS OR RULES OF DEBATE. fature and occasions of debate 308 ersons may be able reasoners and yet fail in debate 309 cle (I,) Be influenced in deba- ting by a desire of the truth 310 I.) Endeavour correctly to 6tate the subject of inquiry 311 II.) Consider tiie kind of evi- dence applicable to the subject 312 V.) Avoid unmeaning proposi- tions 3]3 T.) Avoid the introduction of common-place propositions 314 Tl.) Reject the aid of false ar- guments or sophisms 315 III.) Discipline the powers of debate by practice 316 rill.) Of adherence to opinions 317 f debating for victory 318 lfluence of the study of law 3i9 tental process in voting on leg- islative and other subjects 320 uX\ III EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. f emotions of beauty 321 f what is meant by beautiful ob- jects 322 xtensive use of the term 323 11 objects not equally fitted to excite emotions. Summary of views in regard to the beautiful 340 Of picturesque beauty 341 , XXIX. — EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITF. Connection between beauty and ! sublimity 342 Of sublimity a parte rei 343 Occasions of sublime emotions 344 [ The moral sublime 34.3 j No objects sublime of themselves 346 ! Sublime objects have some ele- ' ments of beauty 347 ; Of emotions of grandeur 348 j Original or primary sublimity, &c. 349 I Considerations in proof of the ! original sublimity of objects 350 Influence of association on emo- tions of sublimity 351 j Further illustrations of the same 352 XXX. OF IMAGINATION. Definition of imagination 352 The creations of imagination not entirely voluntary 354 Of imaginations not attended with i desire 355 Imagination attended with desire 356 ! The same subject continued 357 1 Remarks fr. the writings of Reid 358 ! Grounds of the preference of one I conception to another 359 Milton's imaginary paradise 360 , Limitations of imagination. &c. 361 CONTENTS. 11 SECT. Explanation of case of Blacklock 362 Works of imagination give differ- ent degrees of pleasure 303 Utility of the creations of poetry, painting, &c. 364 Of misconceptions by means of the imagination 305 Explanation of the above misrep- resentations of the imagination 360 Feelings of sympathy aided by imagination 307 Of taste in the fine arts 868 Characteristics, &c. of good taste 369 XXXI.— OF WIT AND HUMOUR. Emotions of the ludicrous 370 Occasions of these emotions 37 1 Hobbes' account of the ludicrous 372 What is to be understood by wit 373 Wit as it consists in burlesque 374 Of wit when employed in aggran- dizing objects 375 Character & occasions of humour 376 XXXII.-SYMPATHETIC IMITATION. Propensity to imitation 377 Instances of sympathetic imitation 378 The same in large multitudes 379 Animal magnetism of Mesner in connection with this subject 380 Sympathetic imitation at the poor- house of Haerlem 381 Practical results connected with the foregoing views 382 Application of these views to leg- islative assemblies 383 XXXIII.— OF INSTINCTS. Meaning of the term instinct 384 Instinctive feelings in men 385 Of the desire of society, consid- ered as an instinctive feeling 386 Desire of knowledge and power 387 Differences in instinct and reason 388 Intellectual power in animals 889 Actions from instinct not moral 390 XXXIV.— THE WILL. Of what is meant by the will or the power of the will 301 Of volition and its objects 392 Difference between willing and desiring 393 SECT. Nature and kinds of motives 304 Motives in reference to their ori- gin 395 General nature of human liberty 396 Liberty of the will 397 External liberty ; '>'■"* Liberty of the Supreme Being 390 Evidence fr. observation of connec- tion between motives & volitions 400 Encouragements to moral efforts 401 Of motives considered as modifi- cations of our feelings 402 Further remarks on same subject 403 Instances of the acquired charac- ter of external motives 404 Connection between liberty and moral agency 405 XXXV. MORAL SUSCEPTIBILITY OR CONSCIENCE. Of the accountableness or moral nature of man Virtue and vice, merit and demerit in agents, not in actions 407 True import of virtue and vice, merit and demerit 408 The existence of conscience 409 Various opinions respecting the ground of moral obligation 410 Want of uniformity in our moral judgments 411 Objection to conscience drawn fr. the conduct of the Sp&rtans, &c. 412 Conscience perverted by passion 413 Complexity in actions a source of confusion in moral judgments 414 Influence of early associations on moral judgments Illustration of the preceding sect. 41b Of enlightening the conscience 417 Of guilt when one acts conscien- tiously XXXVI.— THE PASSIONS. Significations of the term, passion Ofthe passion of love Of the passion of hatred Of sympathy Of auger Of gratitude Of pride Of fear Of hope Of jealousy 418 410 420 421 422 23 424 425 42i > 427 428 CONTENTS. Sect. XXXVII. EXCITED CONCEP- TIONS OH APPARITIONS. )f excited conceptions and of apparitions in general .ess permanent excited ccncep. Connection between mind & body st cause of excited conceptions. Neglect of blood-letting, Excited conceptions of Nicolai d cause of excited conceptions d cause of apparitions and other excited conceptions ^acts having relation to the third cause of excited conceptions :th cause of apparitions ixcited conceptions induced by tlie use of opium Jhosts and spectral appearances Apparitions of tbe religious £XXVHL MENTAL ALIENATION 420. 430 431 1 432 4:',:'. 434 13.1 436 437 438 43!' 440 )f the misfortune of a disordered state of mind Cental power in idiocy Occasions of idiocy 3f the causes of idiocy Alienated external perceptions disordered or alienated associa- tion. Lightheadedness. ilustration of this mental disorder 'artial mental alienation by means of the imagination Disordered imagination. First form of hypochondriasis Insanity or alienation of belief S;ime subject continued. Second form of hypochondriasis Of intermissions of hypochondri- asis and of its remedies Reasoning in the partially insane Partial alienation of the reasoning power in the character of Don Quixote Readiness of reasoning in the partially insane and its causes [nsauity of the passions Instance of this form of insanity Sometimes induced by early in- dulgence Of total insanitv or delirium 111 1 12 1 13 414 4 15 446 117 448 449 450 451 1.72 453 154 I SECT. Of perception 111 delirious insanity 4 of schools is given, was this. By order of a general Council ©f the Roman Catholic Church, held at Rome in the year 1179, eertais psrsor.s were appointed to give instruction,; 14 UTILITY OF either in the cathedrals and monasteries, or in some suita- ble buildings erected near them. The places of instruc- tion were called by the Latin name schoije ; the teachers were termed scholastici. These minor institutions, some of which had an existence previous to the enactment of the canons of the Council, which has been mentioned, at length grew up into the more imposing shape of semina- ries, answering to the public literary institutions of mod- ern times. But while there was an alteration in the insti- tutions themselves, and colleges and universities in the end arose from these small beginnings, the same appella- tions continued. By the schools, then, are to be understood the Euro- pean literary and theological institutions, as they were constituted and regulated from about the middle of the twelfth century to the period of the Protestant reformation. By the scholastic philosophy, using the terms in a general sense, we mean those topics, which were most examined and insisted on during that period. The learning of the schools may in general be refer- red to three great divisions, as follows ; — ontology or the science of Being in general ; — natural theology, which seems to have been the application of the principles of on- tology to the particular existences, called God and angels ; and pneumatology or doctrines having relation to the hu- man mind. The following are some of the inquiries, which were warmly agitated during the period now under examination. Whether the Deity can exist in imaginary space no less than in the space which is real ? Whether the Deity loves a possible unexisting angel better than an insect in actual existence ? Whether the essence of the mind be distinct from its existence ? And whether its essence might, therefore, sub- sist, when it had no actual existence ? Whether angels can visibly discern objects in the dark ? Or whether they can pass from one point of space to another without passing through the intermediate points ? Such jinquiries, it will readily be admitted, were woise INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. IS than fruitless. But Intellectual Philosophy, as it exists at the present day, evidently ought not to be estimated by what it was in the scholastic ages. If, therefore, the pre- judice, which has been mentioned as prevailing against this science, be in any measure founded on the frivolous discussions of the Schools, it is so far unjust ; since it is now prosecuted on different principles and with different results. §. 3. Supposed practical inutility of this science. A second ground of the prejudice, existing against this science, is the prevalence of a false opinion of its practical inutility. In studying Intellectual Philosophy, we are supposed in the erroneous opinion, which has been men- tioned, to learn in a scientific form only what we have previously learnt from nature ; we acquire nothing new, and the time, therefore, which is occupied in this pursuit, is mispent. All persons, however ignorant, know what it is, to think, to imagine, to feel, to perceive, to exercise belief. All persons know the fact in Intellectual Philosophy, that memory depends on attention ; and when asked, why they have forgotten things, which occurred yesterday in their presence, think it a sufficient answer to say, that they did not attend to them. Every body is practically acquainted with the principle of association. Even the uneducated groom, who has the sagacity to feed his horses to the sound of the drum and bugle, as a training preparatory to their being employed in military service, discovers a knowledge of it. From "some facts of this kind, which may safely be ad- mitted to exist, the opinion has arisen of the practical in- utility of studying Intellectual Philosophy as a science. §. 4. Its supposed practical inutility answered. If. however, these facts be admitted to be a valid ob- jection in application to this study, the same objection evidently exists to the study of other sciences, for instance. Natural Philosophy. It is remarked of savages, that the* n UTILITY OP gain an eminence before they throw their missile weapons, in order by the aid of such a position to increase the mo- mentum of what is thrown. They do this without any scientific knowledge of the accelerating force of gravity. The sailor, who has perhaps never seen a mathematical diagram, practically understands, as is evident from the- mode in which he handles the ropes of the vessel, the com- position and resolution of forces. In a multitude of in- stances, we act on principles, which are explained and demonstrated in some of the branches of Natural Philoso- phy. We act on them, while we are altogether ignorant of the science. But no one, it is presumed, will consider this a good excuse for making no philosophical and sys- tematic inquiries into that department of knowledge. But without contenting ' ourselves with the answer, which has now been given to the objection, that the study, upon which we are entering, is of no practical profit, as well as to the preceding objection, some remarks will be made, more directly and positively showing its beneficial results. $. 5, Intellectual Philosophy should be studied because it tends te gratify a reasonable curiosity. If it were true, that the practical good results of a prosecution of this science are exceedingly inconsiderable, it might, nevertheless, be properly studied, because a natural and reasonable curiosity is in this way gratified. The botanist examines the seed of a plant and its mode of germination, the root and the qualities by which it is fit- ted to act as an organ of nutrition and support, the struc- ture of the stem, and the form of the leaves. The miner- alogist inquires into the properties, the constituent parts, and the relations of the various mineral masses, which en- ter into the formation of the earth's surface. And what- ever opinion may exist as to the amount of practical ben- efit resulting from inquiries into these departments of sci- ence, they are justly considered as exceedingly commend- able, and as suitable to the inquisitive turn of an intellec- tual being. In other words, the constitution of the mind itself, which in its very nature is restless and inquisitive, INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 17 is regarded as a pledge of the propriety of such inquiries, independently of their subserviency to the indirect increase of human happiness. But it is certainly not too much to say, that the soul of man presents a nobler subject of ex- amination, than the inanimate masses of matter beneath his feet, or the flowers, that open and bloom around him. What we term matter is compounded ; it exists under a great variety of forms ; it is susceptible of a separa- tion into parts, is continually changing, is perishable. But the mind is known to us only under the modi lie ations of thought and feeling ; it is indivisible, for no one is conscious or can be conscious of a want of unity in thought ; its nature continues the same amid the continual changes and decays of material existences, and what is a further evidence* of its superiour claims on our attention, it is always widening its range and strengthening its susceptibilities of knowledge. §. 6. Intellectual Philosophy teaches us how to direct our inquiries. Although the intellectual part of man possesses greU inherent energies, and these, its natural capabilities are continually increasing in strength, it has its boundaries. And here we find another of the good results of a knowledge of Intellectual Philosophy, that we are taught by it to lim- it our inquiries to those subjects, to the investigation of which our capacities are equal and are adapted. The Su- preme Being is an all pervading mind, a principle of life, that has an existence in all places and in all space, and whose intelligence is like his omnipresence, acquainted with all things. But man, his creature, is made with an inferiour capacity ; he knows only in part, and it is but reasonable to suppose, that there are many things, which he will never be able to know. But, although it be justly admitted, that man is subordinate to the Supreme Being and is infinitely' inferiour to Him, his Maker has kindly given him aspirations after knowledge, with the power of satisfying, in some measure and under certain limitations, such aspirations. If, therefore, man be a being, formed to know, and there be, moreover, certain restrictions, pla- I'd UTILITY OP ced upon the capacity of knowledge, it is highly important to ascertain the limitations, whatever they may be, which are imposed. Nor is this always an easy thing to be determin- ed. There is oftentimes a difficulty in ascertaining pre- cisely the boundary, which runs between the possibility and the impossibility of knowledge, but whenever it is as- certained, there is an indirect increase of mental ability by means of the withdrawment of the mind from unprofit- able pursuits, in which there is an expense of effort with- out any remuneration. When, for example, a piece of wood, or any other of those material bodies, by which we are surrounded, is pre- sented to any one for his examination, there are some things in this material substance, which may be known, and others, which cannot. Its colour, its»hardness or soft- ness, its extension are subjects, upon which he can inform himself, can reason, can arrive at knowledge. He opens his eye ; an impression is made on the organ of vision, and he has the idea of colour. By means of the application of his hand to the wood, he learns the penetrability or impenetrability, the softness or hardness of the mass, which he holds. By moving his hand from one point to another in the mass, he is informed of the continuity or extension of its parts. But when he pushes his inquiries beneath the surface of this body, when he attempts to become ac- quainted not only with its qualities, but with that supposed something, in which those qualities are often imagined to inhere, and, in a word, expends his efforts, in obedience to this unprofitable determination, in learning what mat- ter is, independently of its properties, he then stumbles on a boundary, which cannot be passed, and seeks for knowledge where by their very constitution men are not permitted to know. The necessity of ascertaining what things come within the reach of our powers and what do not, was a thought, which laid the foundation of IVIr. Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding. . §. 7. Remarks' of Mr. Locke on this point. " Were it fit to trouble thee with the history of this Essay (he remarks in the Epistle to the reader) I should INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. If tell thee, that five or six friends meeting at my chamber and discoursing on a subject very remote from this, found themselves quickly at a stand by the difficulties that arosa on every side. After we had awhile puzzled ourselves without coming any nearer a resolution of those doubts, which perplexed us, it came into my thoughts, that wa took a wrong course, and that before we set ourselves up- on inquiries of that nature, it was necessary to examine our own abilities, and see what objects our understandings were or were not fitted to deal with. This I proposed to the company, who all readily assented, and thereupon it was agreed, that this should be our first inquiry." Such were the sentiments on this subject of a man, who has probably contributed more largely than any other individual to help us to the correct understanding of the mind ; and whose writings, such is their singular original- ity and acuteness, can hardly be too strongly recommend- ed for perusal. §. 8. Helps us in the correction of mental errours. A third advantage resulting from the study of the Phi- losophy of the Mind, is, that it teaches us in many cases to correct whatever deficiences or errours may exist in our mental constitution. In our present state of imperfection, while we are found to experience various kinds of bodily evils, we are not ex- empt from those of the mind ; and we know not, that it can any more excite surprise, that some people exhibit mental distortions, than it can, that we daily see not only the healthy and the well-formed, but the maimed, the halt, and the blind. If then it be asked, how are these various mental defects to be remedied, the answer is obvi- ous, that we should act in regard to the mind, as we do in promoting the restoration of the body ; we should commit the business of ascertaining a remedy to those, who are in some good degree acquainted with the subject and with the nature of the disease. A physician, altogether igno- rant of the anatomy and physiology of the human system, would be poorly qualified to relieve a fellow being in sick- 20 UTILITY OF ness, or who had suffered a fracture in his limbs. But if knowledge be necessary, in order to heal the weakness of the body and restore it to its proper soundness and beauty, it is not less important in the restoration of analogous evils in the mental constitution. In looking round to see, whose minds are disordered, and whose are in a sound and healthy condition, we notice, for example, that some persons are troubled with a very weak memory. We have a very candid confession on this point in the writings of Montaigne. He informs us, that he did not trust to his memory. "I am forced (says he) to call my servants by the names of their employments, or of the countries where they were born, for I can hardly remember their proper names ; and if I should live long, I question whether I should remember my own name." It appears, however, from his acquaintance with the princi- ples of the ancient philosophers, that he had not much reason to complain, except of his own inattention to this valuable mental susceptibility. He remembered princi- ples ; he could keep in recollection the outlines of the sciences, but could not so well remember insulated facts, especially if they related to the occurrences of common life. This peculiarity in the operations of the memory is not unfrequently found among men of letters, especially if they possess a vivid imagination. But it must be consid- ered a mental defect ; one, which it is not only important to understand, but to try to remedy. Montaigne is a striking instance of failure in one of the varieties of memory, and others fail equally in the power of reasoning, that is, in forming judgments or con- clusions by combining together a number of consecutive propositions. And this happens from a variety of causes, as from weakness of attention, or the influence of prejudi- ces, or an ignorance of the nature and sources of evidence, or from other causes, which may be guarded against and controlled. In other cases the mind is thrown into confu- sion in consequence of such exceeding vividness in the conceptions, as to lead one to mistake the mere objects of thought for real external objects. And again we*' have INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 21 the still more formidable evils of idiocy in its various forms of origin, and of partial and total insanity. Since then it must be admitted, that there are diseases and distortions of the mind no less than of the body, and that we cannot expect a restoration from those evils with- out an intimate acquaintance with the state and tenden- cies of our intellectual powers, such an acquaintance be- comes exceedingly desirable. §. 9. Is a help to those, who have the charge of early education. This study, in the fourth place, furnishes many very val- uable hints to those, who have the charge of early educa- tion. It is well known that children and youth adopt al- most implicitly the manners and opinions of those, under whom they happen in Providence to be placed, or with whom they much associate, whether they be parents, in- structors, or others. Let it, therefore, be remembered, that passions both good and evil may then rise up and gain strength, which it will afterwards be found difficult to subdue. Intellec- tual operations may at that period be guided and invigo- rated, which, if then neglected, can never be called forth to any effective purpose in after life. Habits and associa- tions of various kinds may then be formed, which will de- fy all subsequent attempts at a removal, and will follow the subject of them down to the grave. What we learn from every day's observation agrees with what we are taught in the saying of Solomon ; — " Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it." It is, then, reasonably expected of parents and instruc- tors, that they attempt to eradicate in the minds of the young bad passions and foster and sustain those, which are good ; that they pursue suitable methods for the invigora- tion of the reasoning powers, and that they strive to strengthen those various habits and associations, which shall render them good members of a famik, useful citi- and above all .should those 4 22 UTILITY OF under their care be trained up in the understanding and practice of that religion, which brings peace and hope. When we take these things into view, and when we fur- ther recollect the frequency of characteristic, if not orig- inal differences in intellectual power and inclination, no one certainly can be considered properly qualified for this great undertaking, who has not formed a systematic and philosophic acquaintance with the principles of the mind. §. 10. Instructs us not only as to our thoughts but language. It may not be out of place to remark here, that this science concerns not only the various forms of thought, but the nature of language also, which is the medium of communication, by which our thoughts are made known to others. Here then is another and fifth benefit, which may properly be set up against those objections, which have been made to this interesting department of science, since it is in a great measure by means of language, that different and distant minds hold intercourse, the forms of society are preserved, and the great family of man are en- abled to go forth in the path of social and civil melioration. As words are in themselves mere arbitrary signs, and have no natural or inherent fitness for the expression of the signification, which is attached to them, more than various other signs, which might have been employed, they afford a fruitful subject of remark to the intellectual philosopher, who states the object for which they are used, explains their necessary imperfection, and teaches us in their skilful and appropriate application. And this he is well enabled to do, since it particularly falls to him to inquire into the origin and combinations of thought ; and the notion, which we form of language, always includes not only the written and oral signs, but also the thoughts or mental states, which they are designed to represent. §. 11. Has a connection with other departments of science. It is to be considered further, that this department of science has an intimate connection with others, which are INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 93 of great importance ; and this connection may be regard- ed as increasing the urgency of attending to it. For instance, Intellectual Philosophy has an intimate connec- tion with Moral. In the hitter science we bring under consideration injuries, benefits, the nature and obligation of contracts, and the various duties of men ; but such inqui- ries would be exceedingly fruitless without a thorough ac- quaintance with the emotions and passions, and with other modifications, both simple and complex, of the intellectu- al principle. Intellectual Philosophy has also a close connection with the most important applications of Criti- cism. It would not be possible to give any rational ac- count of the excellencies or defects of a poem, painting, edifice, or other work of art, without a knowledge of it. For, although we often call such works beautiful and sub- lime, it is certain, that they cannot possess -the qualities of beauty or sublimity, independently of our mental frame, and we never apply those epithets to them, except it be with reference to certain principles within us. Again, Intellectual Philosophy is closely connected with the sci- ence and practice of oratory. We sometimes hear the science of the mind designated as the philosophy of hu- man nature, and nothing certainly is more common than the remark, that a knowledge of human nature is essen- tial to the orator. With how much greater directness and strength he applies his powers of reasoning, when he un- derstands the principles, on which the mind operates in every reasoning process ! With how much greater confi- dence he attacks prejudices, and rouses or allays the pas- sions, when he has thoroughly meditated the passions, and the various influences, by which our judgments are bias- sed ! It will further be found on examination, that the Philosophy of the Mind has an indirect, but real relation to other departments of knowledge, apparently more re- mote from it than those, which have been mentioned. It may be thought, that the relation between astronomy and the science of the mind is not very obvious ; but the mind, nevertheless, is the great medium or instrument, by which the astronomer makes his calculations concerninii 24 UTILITY OF the motions of the heavenly bodies. It is important, there- fore, that he should understand the powers of that instru- ment, the grounds and certainty of his knowledge ; and a similar remark may be made in other cases. But we leave these and all other considerations, tend- ing to show the utility of this science, with a single reflec- tion more, trusting that it will be enough to justify us in our pursuits. §. 12. Teaches us to revere the wisdom of our Creator. We are taught by this science to revere the wisdom of our Creator. We are frequently referred in theologic- al writings to the works of creation, as a proof of his great- ness and wisdom ; and the remark has been made, not without reason, that the " stars teach as well as shine..'''' The discoveries of modern astronomy not only assure us, that there is a God, but impart this additional assurance, that lie is above all others, to whom the attributes of divinity may have been at any time ascribed. But it must be added, that of all those created things, which come within the reach of our examination, the hu- man mind is that principle, which evinces the most won- derful construction, which discloses the most astonishing movements. There is much to excite our admiration in the harmonious movements of the planetary orbs, in the rapidity of light, in the process of vegetation ; but still greater cause for it in the principle of thought, in the in- expressible quickness of its operations, in the harmony of its laws, and in the greatness of its researches. How strik- ing are the powers of that intellect, which, although it have a local habitation, is able to look out from the place of its immediate residence, to pursue its researches among those remote worlds, which journey in the vault of heaven, and to converse both with the ages past and to come. It ought not to be expected that we should be intimate- ly acquainted with a principle possessing such striking powers, without some reverential feelings towards him, who is the author of it. INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY 25 §. 13. Of the mental effort necessary in this study. In concluding these remarks on the utility of the Phi- losophy of the Mind, it ought not to be concealed, that our early intellectual habits present an obstacle to the easy and ready prosecution of it. We are so formed, that we naturally give our attention first to external things. The varieties of colour and sound, the pleasures of taste and touch are continually giving us new intimations, and drawing the soul incessantly out of itself to the contem- plation of the exteriour causes of the perceptions and emo- tions, by which it is agitated. Hence, when we are called to look within, and as the Arabians sometimes say, Ho shut the windows, in order that the house may be light,'' we find it to be a process, to which we are unaccustomed, and, there- fore, difficult. Although the direct mental effort be not greater in this, than in some other departments of science, it is, in conse- quence of the circumstance just mentioned, exceedingly painful to some, and certainly requires patience and reso lution in all. And perhaps this is one cause of the unfa- vourable reception, which this department of knowledge has often met with. But the advantages attending it are so numerous, it is to be hoped, they will overcome any disinclination to the necessary mental exertion. The fruits of the earth are purchased by the sweat of the brow, and it has never been ordered, that the reverse of this shall take place in the matters of knowledge, and that the fruits of science shall be reaped by the hands of idleness. No man has ever be- come learned without toil ; and let it be remembered, if there be many obstacles in the acquisition of any particular science, that he, who overcomes a multiplication of diffi- culties, deserves greater honour than he, who contends onlv with a few. CHAPTER SECOND, IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. §. 14. Importance of certain preliminary statements in Intellectual Philosophy. ; J.t is often highly important, in the investigation of a science, to state, at the commencement of such investi- gations, what things are to be considered as preliminary and taken for granted, and what are not. If this precau- tion had always been observed, which, where there is any room for mistake or misapprehension, seems so reasonable, how many useless disputes would have been avoided ; — the paths to knowledge would have been rendered more direct and easy, instead of being prolonged and perplexed. It is impossible to proceed with inquiries in the science of intellectual philosophy, as it will be found to be in al- most every other, without a proper understanding of those fundamental principles, which are necessarily involved in what follows. Those preliminary principles, which are necessary to be admitted, and without which we are unable to proceed with any satisfaction and profit in our inquiries, will be called, for the sake of distinction and convenience, prima- ry truths. There would seem to be no impropriety in calling them truths since they are forced upon us, as it were, by our very constitution ; all mankind admit them in practice, however some may affect to deny them with their lips ; and they are as plain and incontrovertible at their very first enunciation, as any discoveries in physics, or any demon- IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. 2? strations in geometry. We call them primary, because they are the ultimate propositions, into which all reasoning resolves itself, and are necessarily involved and implied in all the investigations, which we shall make on the pres- ent subject. The first of this class of truths, which will come under consideration, is this ; §. 15. There are original and authoritative grounds of belief. Nothing is better known, than that there is a certain state of the mind, which is expressed by the term, belief. As we find all men acting in reference to it, it is not ne- cessary to enter into any verbal explanation. Nor would it be possible by such explanation to increase the clear- ness of that notion, which every one is already supposed to entertain. Of this belief, we take it for granted, and hold it to be in the strictest sense true, that there are orig- inal and authoritative grounds or sources ; meaning by the term, original, that these grounds or sources are involved in the nature of the mind itself, and meaning by the term. authoritative, that this belief is not a matter of chance or choice, but naturally and necessarily results from our men- tal constitution. Sometimes we can trace the state of the mind, which we term belief, to an affection of the .senses, sometimes to that quick, internal perception, which is termed intuition, and at others to human testimony. In all these cases, however, the explanation, which we at- tempt to give, is limited to a statement of the circumstan- ces, in which the belief arises. But the fact, that belief arises under these circumstances, is ultimate, is a primary law ; and being such, it no more admits of explanation, than does the mere feeling itself. And further, this be- lief may exist as really, and may control us as strongly, when we are unable to give a particular and accurate ac- count of the circumstances, in which it may arise, as at other times. "We find ourselves continually compelled to act upon it, when the only possible answer we can give, is, that we are human beings, or that we believe, be- cause we find it impossible to do otherwise.-* A second ef this class of truths declares or takes for granted. 23 IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. §. 16. The reality and certainty of our personal existence. Des Cartes formed the singular resolution, not to be- lieve his own existence, until he could prove it. He reasoned thus; Cogito, ergo sum, I think, therefore, I exist. This argument, which he considered conclusive and incontrovertible, evidently involves what is termed a petitio principii or begging of the question. It is easy to perceive, that the very thing to be proved is assumed. Cogito is equivalent to the proposition, I am a thinking being ; and ergo sum may be literally interpret- ed, therefore, I am in being. His premises had already im- plied, that he existed as a thinking being, and it is these very premises, which he employs in proof of his existence. The acuteness, which has generally been attributed to him, evidently failed him in this instance. The argu- ment of Des Cartes was unsuccessful, and no one, who has attempted to prove the same point, has succeeded any better. It is necessary to take different ground from that taken by this philosopher and his followers. We consider the belief of our existence a primary truth. A few remarks may tend to show the propriety of thus doing. There was a time when man did not exist. He had no form, no knowledge. Light, and motion, and matter were things, in which he had no concern. He was crea- ted from nothing with such powers and such laws to his powers, as his Creator saw fit to give. We are called upon to mark the history of this new created being. In the earliest months or even weeks of its existence, we will suppose, that some external object is, for the first time, presented to its senses. The result of this is, that there is an impression made on the senses ; and then at once there is a change in the mind, a new thought, a new feeling. But we hold it to be impossible for the child to undergo this newness of internal experi- ence without a simultaneous conviction of the real exist- ence of itself, as susceptible of this new thought or feel- IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. Z'j ing. And this idea or conviction of personal existence; which arises at this very early period, is continually sug- gested and confirmed in the course of the successive du- ties, and enjoyments, and sufferings of life. This is a re- sult, which.. is necessarily involved in our mental constitu- tion, and which, as it has such an origin, neither fears any refutation, nor requires any argument in its support. Malebranche in his Search after Truth speaks much in commendation of what he has termed the spirit of doubting. But then he bestows this commendation with such limitations as will prevent those eviis, which re- sult from too freely giving up to a sceptical spirit. "To doubt (says he) with judgment and reason, is not so small a thing as people imagine, for here it may be said, that there's a great difference between doubling and doubting. We doubt through passion and brutality, through blindness and malice, and, lastly, through fancy, and only because we would doubt. But we doubt also with prudence and caution, with wisdom and penetration of mind. Academics and atheists doubt upon the first grounds, true philosophers on the second. The first is a doubt of darkness, which does not conduct us into the light, but always removes us from.it." (B. I. ch. 20.) We may remark in conformity with this distinction of Malebranche, that the doubting of those over-scrupulous^ inquirers, who demand proof of their own existence, is of that kind, to which he so justly objects. Scepticism on that subject is truly a doubt of darkness, which does not conduct us into the light, but always removes us from it. A third of those preliminary truths or propositions, which we term primary, is this ; §. 17. The belief and certainty of our personal identity. It is necessary to make the remark here, that a distinc- tion has very properly been made between pei identity, and mental and bodily identity. By ihe phrase, mental identity, we express the continuance oneness of the thinking principle merely : ahd by '. identity, we mean the sameness of the b< e and 5 30 IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. general organization. We cannot attach any other mean- ing to the latter phrase in consequence of the constant changes in the material particles, which compose our bod- ily systems. In those more general apprehensions, how- ever, winch we attach to the phrase, personal identity, we have reference both to the one and the other, the mind and the body, and combine together the two ideas, which are conveyed in the two phrases before mentioned, viz., mental identity and bodily identity. In other words, when it is said, that any one is conscious of, knows, or has a certainty of his personal identity, it is meant to be assert- ed, that he is conscious of having formerly possessed the powers of an organized, animated, and rational being, and that he still possesses those powers. There is no mystery in this ; it is plain and easily understood : and we are led, therefore, to assert, that a belief in personal identity or a conviction and knowledge, that there has been such a continuance of our being, is to be regarded, and with abundant reason, as a primary truth. In the first place, the mere fact, that it is constantly implied ia those conclusions, which we form in respect to the future from the past, and universally in our daily ac- tions, is of itself a sufficient ground for reckoning it among the original and essential intimations of the human intellect. On any other hypothesis we are quite unable to account for thvit practical recognition of it in the pursuits of men, which is at once so evident and so universal. The farmer, for instance, who looks abroad on his cultivated fields, knows, that he is identically the same person, who, twenty years before, entered the forest with an axe on his shoulder, and felled the first tree. The aged soldier, who recounts at his fireside the battles of his youth, never once doubts that he was himself the witness of those sanguinary scenes, which he delights to relate. It is alike useless to attempt to deny or to prove to them a proposition, which they believe and know, not from reasoning but from their v.'ry nature ; and which, it is sufficiently evident, can never be eradicated from their belief and knowledge, un- til that nature is changed. IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. 31 A second circumstance in favour of regarding the no- tion of personal identity, as an admitted or primary truth, is, that from the nature of the case no train of reasoning, (what may be termed an argument,) can be employed in reference to it, either for or against. The truth of this remark will appear on examination. There evidently can be no argument, properly so called, unless there be a succession of distinct propositions. From such a succes- sion of propositions, no conclusion can be drawn by any one, unless he be willing to trust to the evidence of mem- ory. But memory involves a notion of the time past, and whoever admits, that he has the power of memory, in how- ever small a degree, virtually admits, that he has existed identically the same at some former period, as at present. The considerations, which we have now particularly in view and which arc greatly worthy of attention in connec- tion with the principle under examination, may with a little variation of terms be stated thus. Remembrance, without the admission of our personal identity, is clearly an impossibility. But there can be no process of reasoning without memory. This is evident, because arguments are made up of propositions, which are successive to each other, not only in order, but in point of time. It follows, then, that there can be no argument whatever, or on any subject, without the admission of our identity, as a point, from which to start. What then will it avail to attempt to reason either for or against the views, which are here maintained, since in every argument which is employed, there is necessarily an admission of the very thing, which is the subject of inquiry. A fourth of those truths or fundamental propositions, which we term primary, may thus be stated ; §. IS. The external, material world ha3 an existence. The Pyrrhonic sort, so named from Pyrrho, its founder, a native of Elea, who flourished in the fourth century be- fore Christ, called in question the truth of every system of opinions, adopted by other sects. Hence they have been also called Sceptics and tke Sceptical sect ; names, which-. SS3 IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. in consequence of holding every thing to be uncertain, they seem to have well merited. They denied among oth- er things the existence of matter. Their reasonings in res- pect to the material world were such as the following. First ; The organs of perception, said they, are differ- ent in different animals, and it is probable, that the same objects present different images or appearances to them. But one person evidently can have no reason for saying, that his perceptions are more agreeable to the real nature of things than those of another person or of other animals. Secondly ; Objects present a different aspect accord- ing to their position, their nearness, or distance, or the mode in which they are exhibited to the senses ; and no good reason can be given, why one of these aspects should agree with the real object any better than the rest of them. For instance, the sun, when seen by the naked eye, appears to be a small body about a foot in diameter, and it is the same with the moon ; but we receive a very dif- ferent account of the dimensions of these luminaries, when they are seen through a telescope. — Again, when we are so situated behind a high wall or hill as to see a distant church steeple, it often appears nearer than it actually is, because we are unable to discern the houses and other objects, intervening between the steeple, and the hill or wall, over which we behold it, and which would help us to measure the true distance. In consequence of suppos- ing it to be nearer than it is in fact, we are led to regard it as of diminished size ; that is, it has the appearance of being smaller than a steeple equally distant seen under other circumstances. But when we find our senses con- veying to us such different representations of the same object, who is to determine which is the true and correct one ? The truth is, say those, who profess to be genu- ine sceptics, there is no end to the impositions, which our senses practise upon us ; they are continually giving us erroneous intimations ; consequently we are not at liberty to depend upon them ; and it is, therefore, an useless un- dertaking to attempt to prove the existence of any exter- nal, material substances. IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. 33 It was said of Pyrrho, that he carried his principles so far as to be in danger of being run over by carriages or of tumbling from precipices. But as his doctrine al- ways found enough disposed to ridicule it, these state- ments were probably the fabrications of his enemies. In replying to these views of the Pyrrhcnic or Scepti- cal philosophy, we may here remark, that we do not at- tempt to explain what the real nature er essence of matter is, but merely assert, that it exists. And in taking this ground, we do no otherwise, than when we assert and maintain the existence of the Supreme Being, while we all acknowledge our ignorance of the nature or essence of that existence. And having made this suggestion, it may briefly be remarked, First ; In forming a judgment of external things, the senses are not to be separated from each other, nor the intellectual powers from the senses. — If, therefore, the advocates of the doubting philosophy are unable by the sense of sight to judge correctly of the size of a steeple, or of other distant objects, has not the Almighty furnished them with another sense, that of the touch, by which they can form a more correct estimation ? If the eye of the body by itself alone be unable to give us a cor- rect idea of the sun and moon, cannot the eye of the mind come in to its assistance ? Can it not tell us not only the size of those bodies, but mark out the path of their motion ; and thus, not only seeing those things, which actually exist but those, which are to be hereafter, predict their position and appearance before that position and those appearan- ces happen ? Secondly ; this circumstance also to be considered. Those who deny the existence of a material world, either deny or admit their own existence. If they deny it, then truly we have none to contend with. If they admit it, they must cither claim to be pure and unearthly intellect, or grant, that, they are made up in part of matter. In the latter case, it seems to fall upon them to show, why we may more easily believe in the existence of that portion -84 IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. of matter, which makes a part of ourselves, than in those material existences by which we are asserted to be sur- rounded. Thirdly ; whatever may be the idea of Sceptics on this point, the great mass of mankind believe in the existence of the Deity ; a being of perfect truth as well as benevo- lence. But to create man so that he should be irresisti- bly led to believe in the existence of a material world, when it did not exist, to create him with high capacities of thought, feeling, and action, and then to surround him with mere illusive and imaginary appearances, does not agree with that notion of God, which we are wont to entertain. Furthermore ; it must be admitted, as has already been stated, that there are certain original sources or grounds of belief in our constitution. To say otherwise would be to loosen and destroy the foundations of all knowledge, whether that knowledge concerned matter or mind. But what evidence is there, that there are such original sources of belief, or that any one thing in partic- ular is the foundation of such belief more than any other thing ? The answer is, our own internal consciousness and conviction, and this merely* But the intimations from the senses as effectually control our belief, as any other source of evidence whatever. Our consciousness, our internal conviction tells us, that our belief is as deci- sively regulated by the perceptions, derived through the senses, as by our intuitive or inductive perceptions ; and that they are as much a ground of knowledge. We as- sert this with confidence ; therefore, if the senses are not a ground of belief and knowledge, the way is fairly open for unlimited scepticism on all subjects. It. will in this case be impossible to fix upon any thing whatever, which is to be received as evidence, and men must give up all knowl- edge of intellect as well as matter, and will be at once re- leased from all moral obligation. Admitting, therefore, the existence of the material world without further remark on the subject, we come to a fifth primary truth, which will be found to enter very exten- sively i.uto all our investigations concerning the mind, viz> IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. 3:» § . 19. Confidence is to be reposed in the memory. It has already appeared, that there are within us cer- tain grounds or sources of belief. This subject was brief- ly considered in the last section, and also in one prece- ding. The senses, the mind itself in the exercise of its intuitive and inductive powers, and human testimony are some of these sources ; the memory is another, which is to be separately, though briefly considered here. When we say, that confidence is to be reposed in the memory, it is not meant to be asserted, that we are liable to no mistakes from that source. It is merely meant, that when we are satisfied, that our memory fully and correctly retains any perceptions of whatever kind of a former pe- riod, we receive such remembrances with as much confi- dence and act upon them as readily, as if the original per- ceptions were now present to the mind. Without this confidence in the memory we could hardly sustain an ex- istence ; we certainly could not derive any thing in aid of that existence from the experience of the past. Our past life has been a series of perceptions or of dif- ferent states of the mind, following each other in rapid and almost unbroken succession. But if we are asked on what principle we are led to recognize our former states of mind as a part of the sum of our present and actually existing knowledge ; all tho answer, which can be given to this inquiry, is, that, in the original designation of those principles or tendencies, which were selected for the composition and effective ac- tion of our intellectual being, we are so constituted as to place a perfect reliance on the reports of that mental ope- ration, which we term the memory ; and this statement is equally satisfactory and the only satisfactory account, whether we consider the memory a simple or a complex exercise of the mind. Leaving this last point to some subsequent opportunity of considering it, we are to as- sign, in this preliminary enumeration, the sixth and la*t place to this proposition, viz., SG IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. §. 20. Human Testimony is to be received as a ground of knowledge. It may be objected to the admission of this proposi- tion, as a preliminary truth, that we are often led into mistakes by the statements of men. This is not denied. But then it may be answered, that the errours, into which we are led from this source, are analogous to those, into which we are sometimes betrayed by means of the » and even by the memory itself; and which were not thought sufficient to reject them from being considered grounds of belief and knowledge. In all these cases, we are not subjected to errours without the means of guarding against, and of correcting them ; and in respect to human testi- mony in .particular, we are by no means required to place confidence in it, without a regard to the circumstances, under which it is given. All, that is meant by the prop- osition laid down, is, that when Ave are satisfied a person has possessed ample means of information, and have no room to suspect the influence of interest or passion on his testimony, we are to receive, and to rely upon it. The propriety of placing confidence in testimony under these circumstances we regard as a primary truth, as something to be taken for granted in our inquiries. And we do this, without at present entering into the ground or origin of this confidence, since this is a subject, which can be subsequently considered, and however it may be settled, is not essential to the present assumption, provided the mere existence of such confident reliance be admitted. It remains, therefore, to be briefly remarked, in sup- port of the view of this subject, which is proposed to be taken, (1), That reliance on human testimony, or the re- ception of such testimony as a ground of belief and knowledge, is agreeable to the common sense of mankind. The conviction of the great mass of mankind on this sub- ject, when it is fairly presented to them, is not merely prompt and deeply rooted, but is irresistible. If a person should seriously deny the truth of a well attested state- ment in history, or question the well attested existence of a distant nation or city, merely because the evidence is IMFLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. 37 that of human testimony, he would be thought insane. Let it be noticed, (2), That without this assumption discoveries in the sciences would in a great measure cease, and in that of the Mind not less than in others. The sciences are built, not on the experience of an individual merely, but of many ; and the conveyance of the multipli- ed experiences of different individuals into the common mass of knowledge, is by means of testimony. Many of the important conclusions, which we ascertain in the Sci- ence of the Mind, are founded on facts, derived from a multitude of individuals; and as these facts are given as the testimony of these persons, they are of no use, unless we admit human testimony to be an authoritative ground of belief. §. 21. Of the distinction between primary and ultimate truths. Such propositions or truths, as are here called primary, are sometimes spoken of as ultimate ; nor is this last epi- thet improperly applied to them. But there seems, never- theless, good reason for proposing the following distinc- tion, viz. Primary truths may be always regarded as ulti- mate, but not all ultimate truths are primary. Prima- ry truths are such as are necessarily implied in the various exercises of the reasoning faculty, and are antecedent to them ; and being not only the necessary, but among the earliest products of the understanding, may also properly be called ultimate. But we also apply the epithet, ulti- mate, to those general truths, facts, or laws in our intel- lectual economy, which are ascertained by the examina- tion and comparison of many particulars, and which are supposed to be unsusceptible of any further generaliza- tion. For instance, when the rays of light reach the retina of the eye and inscribe upon it the picture of some external object, there immediately follows that state of the mind, which we call sight or visual perception. Again, when we behold certain appearances in the external world, such as green fields, enriched with rivulets, and ornament- ed with flowers and trees, there immediately exists within us that pleasurable feelinsr. which is termed an emotion 6 •36 IMPLIED OH PRIMARY TRUTHS. of beauty. Supposing ourselves to have come in sucli cases as these, as Mr. Locke says, " to the length of our tether," and to be incapable of making any further analy- sis, we call such truths, facts, or laws, ultimate. For the existence of these ultimate truths or laws we can give no other reason than this, that we are so formed, and that they are permanent and original characteristics of the mind. All the inquiries, which we are hereafter to make, will continually Imply the existence of such ultimate or original laws, and it will be one great object to ascertain what are truly such. But as the actual knowledge of these general facts is not an absolute prerequisite to the conduct of life, and in particular as it is not necessarily antecedent to the exercise of the reasoning faculty, we cannot call them primary in the same sense, in which that term has been applied to certain facts in our constitution already mentioned. §. 22. Admission of primary truths agreeable to right feelings towards the Supreme Being. The Supreme Being created the mind ; he gave its- powers, and erected its impassable limits. To have crea- ted the mind with the capacity of knowledge without limits, would have been the same as to have disrobed himself of the attribute of omniscience, and to have con- ferred it upon man. Possessed, therefore, of an intellect, circumscribed in its very nature and origin, it ought not to be considered strange, that we should And ourselves in the onset, under the necessity of taking certain principles for granted, as the conditions and auxiliaries of our subse- quent inquiries. So that it is not too much to say, that, in altogether rejecting such preliminary principles, we not only unsettle the foundations of belief and reasoning, but offer violence to our moral, as well as intellectual nature. Because in attempting to pass those limits, which are al- ways implied in the admission of preliminary truths, we show a forgetfulness and disregard of that Being, who has assigned them. Therefore, in assuming the protection of certain primary propositions, which are beyond the reach IMPLIED OR PRIMARY TRUTHS. 30 of the reasoning power, but which are, nevertheless, its. great supports and auxiliaries, we seem to act not unsuit- ably to the relation we sustain to Him, and to the humility of all true wisdom. Note. The following are some of the works, which have treated more or less largely of the topics, which have been embraced in this chapter. The views, which they present, are not always consistent with each other and are sometimes very diverse, but are in general worthy of be- ins; consulted by those, who have leisure to examine what has been said by different writers. ?.!alebranche's Search after Truth, (Recherche de la J'erile,) Bk. I. Brucker's History of Philosophy, (Historia critica philosophic?,) Art. Pyrrhonic Sect. Claude Buf- fer's First Truths, (Premieres Vtrites,) Pt. T. Oswald's Appeal to Common Sense. Beattie's Essay on Truth. Reid's Inquiry into the Human Mind on the Principles of Common Sense. Priestleys Examination,. of Reid, Beat- tie, and Oswald. Bishop Butler's Dissertation on Per- sonal Identity. Stewart's Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. Vol. II. Chap. I., &c. Of the above works, Burner's First Truths, of which a transla- tion into English was published at London in 17S0, is particularly worthy of the student's attention. CHAPTER THIRD, ORIGINAL STATE OF THE MIND. §. 23. Of the thoughts of ths soul in distinction from the soul itself. Among other opinions of Des Cartes was this, that the soul always thinks ; and he even hazarded the further assertion, that its very essence consists in the exercise of thinking ; but says Father Buffier very justly, " it does not appear,, that he had any invincible testimony of the mat- ter." We consider it enough to say, that the soul exists ; we suppose that no one seriously doubts it, or can doubt it ; although it cannot be too often repeated, that we are absolutely ignorant of its essence. If it be asked then, What do we know in respect to the soul ? The answer is, We know its existence ; and further we know its modifica- tions ; that is, its acts, states, or ideas, together with the laws, which regulate them. It is, therefore, deemed sufficient to say, that the soul makes itself known by means of thought, without assert- ing or believing, that thought is all that is meant, when we use the term, soul, or mind. And we not only contend, that there is a distinction between the soul and thought, but further suppose, that the distinct existence of the soul is always implied and taken for granted in the mere use of the term, thought, as its meaning is commonly understood. And this appears for these brief reasons. It is a conclu- sion of common sense* the dictate of the universal mind of man, that every action supposes an agent ; and every quality supposes a subject, and every modification suppo- ORIGINAL STATE OF THE MIND. 41 «es something which is modified. Now, whether thought be considered an action, or a quality, or a modification, the very language itself involves, that there is a really ex- istent something, of which such act, quality, or modifi- cation can be predicated. And as will again be noticed in a future chapter, the modifications or acts, by which the thinking principle makes itself known, sustain the same relation to the mind or soul, which the properties and qualities of material bodies sustain to matter. This statement agrees precisely with many expressions, which are in common use, such as the soul has ideas, the soul thinks, the soul possesses or acquires knowledge, &c. §. 24. Of original or innate knowledge. It appearing that a distinction may be rightfully drawn between what may be termed the subjective existence of the mind and its mere modifications or thoughts, (although we know not what that subjective existence is,) we are thence led to inquire ; When the mind first begins to think ? or what is nearly the same question, What is the original state of the mind in respect to knowledge ? In reply it is particularly to be remarked, that our knowledge, originates in the senses ; that is, by means of the senses or in connection with them. The evidence of this will here- after more fully appear, although the knowledge, which thus arises, is subsequently the occasion of other knowl- edge, of which the mind itself is truly and exclusively the source. Believing, therefore, that the mind is capable of existing independently of the senses, and also that it puts forth its very first acts in connection with the senses, we in- fer, that it is originally destitute of knowledge, or at least relatively to that complex being, which we call ourselves. If it be objected, that we are unable to form a conception of the mind existing without thought, (even admitting it to be possible and even probable,) we still resort to the great fact in our mental history, which various circumstances combine clearly to establish, that no thought is ever de- veloped in that complex being, which we call by the gen- eral name of man or ourselves, prior to the mediation and aid 42 ORIGINAL STATE OF THE MIND. of the senses. As far, therefore, as this point is of any consequence to men, or is ever likely to be satisfactorily inquired into, we hold to the above inference, and agree with Mr. Locke, that the primitive condition of the human intellect may be compared, in a certain sense, to a piece of white paper, and that it may truly be considered as originally without knowledge. §. 25. Opinions on this subject before the time of Locke. The publication of Mr. Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding has justly been considered as fixing an era in the science of Intellectual Philosophy. Before the publication of this work, which was in the year 1)390, the doctrine of innate or connatural ideas was widely prevalent. By the phrase, innate, or, to use an expression less ambig- uous, connatural ideas, is to be understood certain ideas and propositions, which were held to be wrought into their intellectual nature, and to be born with all mankind. It was maintained, that they were limited to no one class, nei- ther to the rich nor the poor, neither to the learned nor the ignorant, to no clime and to no country, but all partic- ipated in them alike. These propositions and ideas, be- ing coetaneous with the existence of the soul, and being there established at the commencement of its existence by the ordinance of the Deity, were regarded as the first principles of knowledge, and as the rules, by which men were to be guided in all their reasonings about natural and moral subjects. From these innate and original propositions the following may be selected as specimens of the whole ; i §. 2G. Enumeration of innate or connatural principles. ( 1 ) Of the natural kind, Viz., The whole is greater than a part ; Whatsoever is, i? • It is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be at the same time and in the same sense. (2) Of the moral kind, Viz., Parents must be honoured ; Injury must not b© done; Contracts should be fulfilled, &c. ORIGINAL STATE OF THE MIND. ■ (3) Of the religious kind, Viz., There is a God ; God is to be worshipped ; God will approve virtue and punish vice. If these propositions are innate or connatural with the mind, then the ideas of which they are composed, must be innate ; so that, whatever the number of propositions, there will be a yet greater number of innate ideas. The doctrine of the existence of such innate ideas and propositions was supported by Des Cartes and Malebranche, names of such celebrity as to give at least a temporary currency to almost any opinion. The principal argument in support of this doctrine seems to have been this ; §. 27. Argument on the subject of innate knowledge. All mankind universally exhibit an acquaintance with, and give their assent to ideas and propositions of this des- cription ; hence they are innate. This argument is considered inconclusive, because the statement, which is made in it, is justly maintained to be untrue. It is undoubtedly the fact, that a part of the hu- man race remain ignorant through life of the greater num- ber, if not all of the propositions in question. The histo- ry of Savage tribes teaches us this. But admitting that all men are acquainted with them and assent to them, this by no means proves them innate, so long as we can account for this acquaintance and this assent in some other way. It is admitted by all, that the mind exists, and that it possesses the power or the ability to acquire knowledge. If, therefore, in the exercise of this ability, which all admit it to have, we can come to the knowl- edge of what are called innate or connatural ideas and propositions, it is quite unphilosophical to assign to them another origin, in support of which no positive proof can be brought. Further ; if the doctrine of innate knowledge be ad- mitted, ideas and propositions of this kind may be multi- plied to any extent; every one will imagine himself at lib- erty to add to the number ; they will unnecessarily be brought forward on a variety of occasions, and a most per- 44 ORIGINAL STATE OF THE MIND. plexing hindrance be thrown in the way of free inquiry and of the progress of knowledge. §. 28. Mf. Locke's opinions on this subject. Mr. Locke in the first book of his Essay on the Human Understanding has examined this subject at very consider- able length. It has indeed been said of his argument, that it is both too long and not always sufficiently to the point, but it makes up in the variety and weight of its consider- ations, what it wants in exactness of arrangement ; and it will be found by no means easy to confute it. It is one among the merits of this writer, that he has successfully laboured to do away many of our ancient pre- judices, (what may be termed the rubbish of the science,) and shown us where to make a good and satisfactory begin- ning. In accordance with what there is so much evidence to consider the true doctrine, we are presented in his wri- tings with the mind, not as a mere recipient, already in a good degree filled up with articles of knowledge, but as a principle or power of action ; and all we have to do, is, to mark its operations, as they necessarily exist in conse- quence of its being furnished with the aid of the senses and surrounded with material objects. It knows nothing at the first ; but it possesses the ability to explore the forms of matter in its various shapes, to mark the aspects and the operations of intellect ; and in this way it becomes posses- sed of a great variety of information. It is, therefore, a most wonderful principle, and, as it raises us far above the brute creation, it would for its own nobleness be highly worthy of the student's attention, even if no practical ben- efit should result from the pursuit. § 29. Opinions of Plato and Aristotle. It may properly enough be remarked here, that the dis- cussion on the subject of innate ideas and propositions is one of long standing. We refer in this remark to the statement, which a French writer, De Grrando, in his His- tory of Philosophy, has given of the conflicting opinions of Plato and Aristotle, taking the translation of the passage, ORIGINAL STATE OF THE MIN D. M as we find it in an American periodical publication of mer- ited reputation. " Ideas, (says Plato,) are not made up of deductions from experience. They have a different ori- gin. It would be impossible to explain the production of them, if they were not independent of experience, and, consequently, innate, that is, placed in the mind by God himself, to serve as the elements of knowledge. Before they were communicated to us, they dwelt in the Divine mind, as so many forms or models, according to which the Deity arranged the universe." The following is the reply of Aristotle. "If ideas are innate (he says) how happens it, that we are not always conscious of them ? And that it is so long before we ob- tain the knowledge, which they ought to impart to us ? How can we have an idea of a thing, which we never per- ceived? To call our ideas models, on which existing ob- jects were formed, is merely a poetical figure. Who is there, that acts with his eyes fixed on these sup- posed models ? We know, that objects may exist, may be made without reference to them." " Plato was, therefore, (he says,) clearly in an errour. His ideas are evidently a product of the understanding, formed by a generalization of the particular qualities of individual objects." It is this very question, namely, Whether we have any ideas, any thing, which can be called knowledge previous to sensation, which divided different writers so late as the time of Des Cartes, who appears to have adopted senti- ments, similar to those of Plato. It was this question, therefore, which Mr. Locke thought it necessary to exam- ine at the commencement of his metaphysical writings, and with what ability is generally known. §. 30. Prevailing opinions at the pres3nt time. It would seem then from the remarks, which have been made, that in former times there has been a great diversity of opinion on the subject of the original state of the mind as respects knowledge. This diversity of opinion does not exist in so great a degree at present. Few are found. 10 ORIGINAL STATE OF THE MIND. who hold to the doctrine of innate or connatural ideas and propositions, as that doctrine was formerly stated and main- tained. The opinions of Mr. Locke on this particular sub- ject, and also on the progressive rise and combinations of thought frcm its simplest to its most complex forms, are adopted, with some slight modifications, by nearly all men- tal philosophers, not only in America and England, but in France, and on the continent of Europe generally. In the statements, which are to be made respecting the origin and combinations of our ideas, we have, accord- ingly, followed in his footsteps with such deviations, as might be expected from more recent, and, in some cases, more accurate and satisfactory inquiries. We take the great mass of knowledge ; we make it the subject of exam- ination, and are able to resolve it into its elements ; and then we gradually trace the history of those elements from its commencement to its completion. This is what has recently been termed ideology, and seems to be the first great subject of examination in the Philosophy of the Mind ; and we shall be led to see in this particular depart- ment of philosophical inquiry, as every where else in na- ture, what complicated results are made to follow from the operation of a few principles, which at first appeared not only simple, but limited in their application. Note. See, in reference to the subject of this chap- ter, Locke's Essay concerning Human Understanding, Bk. I. Watt's Philosophical Essays, III. Cudworth's In- tellectual System of the Universe, Bk. I. chap. 5. Stew- art's Philosophical Essays, I. chap. 3. Historical Disser- tation by the same Author, Pt. II. §. 1. Buffier's First Truths, Pt. II. Adam Smith's History of Ancient Logic and Metaphysics. CHAPTER FOURTH, THE SENSES AND EXTERNAL TERCEPTION. §. 31. On general classifications of the intellectual powers. It will assist us in the more ready knowledge and recollection of the statements, which are to be made, and will be a matter of no small convenience, to adopt a com- mon name, and to arrange together those mental states or operations, whether simple or complex, which are of the same nature. To certain operations of the mind of one sort, (that is, which are found to exist only under certain circumstances and to answer to a particular description,) we give the name, perception ; while operations or states of another kind, differing from perception and also from each other, are designated by the terms, memory, imagin- ation, reasoning, &c. But it is not necessary for our pres- ent purpose to attempt any classification more general than this, although it has often been done, as, for instance, in the well known and superannuated division of the intellect into the Understanding and Will. The classification of certain operations of the same sort under the names, perception, memory, imagination, 6lc. is not only a subordinate division, but -is in its very na- ture different. It does not necessarily imply any theory or hypothesis in respect to the mental constitution. These common names are merely abridged or condensed state- ments of facts in our intellectual history, which are ascer- tained to exist and to be of frequent recurrence, and which without such common names would continually tax us with 48 THE SENSES AND burdensome circumlocutions. But the mere agreement, that certain common names shall stand for certain as- certained facts in our mental economy is a different thing from a classification, which arranges together a multitude of operations, which have no common and distinctive character, with the intention of having them considered as forming an entirely separate fraternity. This has cer- tainly been done in some instances, although the more ur- gent topics of this chapter will permit only a brief illustra- tion of it. §. 32. Of the clasBification into the Understanding and Will. The operations of the mind as before intimated have for- merly been divided and classed under the two general names of the Understanding and Will. Under the Will seems to have been included that abili- ty, in whatever way it might exhibit itself, which was sup- posed to be necessary in bringing the mental constitution into action 5 it was the mind's operative & controlling prin- ciple ; something which moved and governed it. Agree- ably, then, to this division, we find, on the one hand, the Will, and, on the other, as its opposite, was the Understand- ing. To determine, however, what operations belonged to the one and what belonged to the other, was by no means a matter well settled, but of great contention. This dif- ference of opinion could not well have happened, if the classification itself had truly resulted from the constitu- tion of the mind, and if the faculties, which were attribu- ted to the Understanding and Will, had respectively pos- sessed distinctive and common characteristics. This clas- sification, which was once sanctioned with the approbation of great names, has at last fallen into comparative discredit. §. 33. Of the classification into active and intellectual powers. Another general classification of the powers of the mind was this, into the Intellectual and the Active powers. Under the intellectual, were comprehended perception, memory, judgment, reasoning, abstraction, &c ; under the EXTERNAL PERCEPTION 4f* active powers, volition, and a variety of emotions, such as pleasure, pain, aversion. This classification, excepting the difference of names, was very similar to the one above mentioned. But, very evidently, positive or active power must be implied in some of the operations termed intel- lectual, as well as in those, to which the opposite designa- tion is given. That state of the mind which is termed ab- straction, or imagination is as positively active as that, which chooses, or loves, or hates. It may indeed be said, that the epithet, active, is employed to express the re- sults of those powers, rather than as intimating any thing in respect to their own interiour nature. But if we look merely at the results, it might well be inquired ; Wheth- er there is any thing in our mental economy, which more widely and powerfully conduces to action in men, than the reasoning power ? And the answer must be. although it may be less directly so, it is not less positively and truly active in its external results, than the Will itself, or any of the emotions and passions. §. 34. Classifies tion into external and internal states of the mind, &c. Another general classification, which has been more recently proposed in the Lectures on the Philosophy of the Mind of Brown, is this ; into external and internal states of the mind, with a subordinate division of the second class into intellectual states of tiie mind and emotions. Some objections have been raised to the phraseology of this clas- sification ; if, for instance, in one of these divisions we substitute the synonymous term, intellect, the phrase, intel- lectual states of the intellect, which would then arise, pre- sents a tautological and singular mode of expression. And saying nothing of the peculiarity in the combinations of the phrase, it is somewhat difficult to see, why the epithet, intellectual, should be more truly and emphatically applied to the second, than to the first and third classes ; for there can be no doubt, that all these classes truly imply modifi- cations of the intellectual principle. Besides, there are facts in our mental history, arranged under this second division, for instance, those of association, which are not 59 THE SENSES AND properly called states of the mind, but rather laWs or prin- ciples. We know, that the perception of an object will Call up or suggest another, which it resembles. The fact, that the subsequent perception arises under these circum- stances, is a principle or law of the mind : the perception itself would be called a state of the mind. And further, if this general classification be adhered to, (and a similar re- mark will apply to other general classifications) some im- portant topics will either be entirely excluded, or will be brought in without much regard to the distinctive nature Of such general arrangements. Accordingly it might well be Miquired, Under what article ofthe last mentioned clas- s ' ation are we to discuss the nature and grounds of evi- (• . the forms of mental alienation, &c. ? Hence it has been thought best in this work to avoid a d< •■• ting any general division, which has at least this fa- vourable circumstance attending it, that we thereby avoid beer ming pledged and holden in support of any particular writer or system. The great object we have before us is to ascertain fac'.s in regard to the mind ; the arrangement of those facts, and any speculations, which are not direct- ly founded upon them, are subordinate points of consid- eration. And there is the greater reason for pursuing this course, when it is remembered that men have ever discov- ered a strong tendency to make premature generalizations. It flatters their pride ; and in thus doing they are urged forward by the influence of a puerile vanity more than by the pure love of truth. The history ofthe Alchemists is a proof of the justness of this remark: they foolishly labour- ed for ages in search of a simple and primary element ; expecting to ascertain the existence of an ideal something which they called the philosopher's stone, but without suc- cess. " The Philosophy of the Mind (says De Ger- anj ■()'; has its Alchemists also; men, whose studies are di- rected to the pursuit of one single principle, into which the whole science may be resolved ; and who flatter them- selves with the hope of discovering the grand secret, by which the pure gold of truth may be produced at pleas- ure." EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 51 $. 85. Of the meaning of Perception and of its objects. The term, perception, like most others, admits of considerable latitude in its application. In common lan- guage we are not only said to have the power of perceiv- ing outward objects, but also of perceiving the agreement or disagreement in the acts of the mind itself. According- ly we perceive a tree in the forest or a ship at sea, and we also perceive, that the whole is greater than a part, and that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two ri^ht angles. In the present chapter we treat exclusively of that percep- tion, which has reference to objects, exterior to the mind ; and which is, therefore, properly called external percep- tion. And this in truth is the more frequent, if not the more appropriate application of the term, even when it is employed without any qualifying epithet. Used with this restricted signification, ail things, with which we be- come acquainted by means of the senses, are its objects. The natural world in all its varieties of form, power, and beauty is submitted to our inspection : and the greater part of the knowledge we are enabled to possess of it wo enjoy by means of this mental susceptibility. In all our knowledge, therefore, from this source, two things are te be taken for granted, (1) The existence of a material world, (2) Certain affections, caused in the organs of sense by external things. Nor do we anticipate, after what has already been said on the subject of a material world, taken in connection with our consciousness of a susceptibility in our organs of sense of impressions from external objects, that any ex- ception will be taken to these reasonable assumptions. External Perception, then, is a state or affection of the wind, zvhich is immediately successive to certain affections of the or- gans of sense, and which is reftrre&by us to something external as its cause. And here we may notice a slight difference in the pre- vailing usage of the terms, sensation, and perception. The term, sensation, when applied to the mind, expresses merelv the state of the mind without reference to its cause. 5t THE SENSES AND Perception, when the word is used in relation to the ex- ternal world, is more complex, including not only the mere state of the mind, but also a reference to the external cause, as above mentioned. Note. It is of some consequence to observe, that the words, affection, idea, thought, sensation, notion, operation, and perception are all in common speech applied to the mind, although some of them not exclusively so, and some more frequently than others. When thus applied, they ap- pear in general to be used as synonymous, and to signify merely a state or modification of the thinking principle, ex- cepting, however, the word, perception, which is common- ly found to imply more, although this exception does not always hold. No doubt the word, idea, originally meant an image or something else in the mind, distinct from the mind itself, and from any of its modifications. But it is quite needless to remark, that this is not the meaning at the present day. Therefore in the present almost indiscrim- inate application of these terms, we must trust to the con- nection of the passage for the suggestion of any nicer shades of difference, whenever they may happen to exist. ■§. 36. Of the primary and secondary qualities of matter, The great object, about which our external perceptions are employed, and with which they have the most intimate relation, is the material world. Ignorant of the subjec- tive or real essence of matter, we are able to form an ac- quaintance with its qualities and properties, and nothing more. Those attributes of bodies, of which we have our chief knowledge by means of the direct and unaided in- strumentality of the senses, have been called by writers the qualities of bodies. They are considered by Mr. Locke and others under the two heads of Primary aud Secondary. The primary qualities are known by being essential to the existence of all bodies. They are extension, fig- ure, divisibility, and solidity ; and some writers have in- cluded motion. The name of secondary qualities has been given to sound, colour, taste, smell, heat, and cold. The former class are called prlmary for the reason EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. Si$ above given, that all men embrace them in the notion, which they form of matter, anoVthat they are essential to its existence. All bodies have extension, all bodies have fig- ure, all are capable of division, all are solid. By solidity in bodies is to be understood that quality, by which a body hinders the approach of others, between which it is interposed. In this sense water and all other fluids are solid. If particles of water could be prevented from separating, it would be impossible for any two bodies, between which they might be, to come in contact. This was shown in an experiment, which was once made at Florence. A quantity of water was enclosed in a gold ball, which on the most violent pressure could not be made to fill the internal cavity, until the water inside was forced through the pores. Divisibility is reckoned among the primary qualities of matter. The smallest particle is susceptible of divi- sion ; and to that small particle must belong not only divisibility, but the qualities of solidity, extension, and figure. §. 37. Of the sense and the perceptions of smell. The medium, through which we receive the sensations and perceptions of smell, is the organ, which is termed the olfactory nerve, situated principally in the nostrils, but partly in some continuous cavities. When any odorifer- ous particles, sent from external objects, affect this organ, there is a certain state of mind produced, which varies with the nature of the odoriferous bodies. But we can no more infer from the sensation itself merely, that there exists any- necessary connection between the smell and the external objects, than that there exists a connection between the emotions of joy and sorrow and the same objects. It might indeed be suggested to us by the change in our mental states, that there must be some cause or antecedent to the change, but this suggestion would be far from implying the necessity of a corporeal cause. How then does it happen, that we are not merely sen- sible of the particular sensation, but refer it at •nee t« S o4 THE SENSES AND some external object, to the rose, or the honeysuckle ? In answer it may be remarked, if we had always been desti- tute of the senses of sight and touch, this reference never could have been made, but having been furnished with them by the beneficent Author of our being, we make this reference by experience. When we have seen the rose, when we have been near to it and handled it, we have uniformly been conscious of that state of mind, which we term a sensation of smell. When we have come into the neighbourhood of the honeysuckle, or when it has been gathered and presented to us, we have been remind- ed of its fragrance. And thus, having learnt by experi- ence, that the presence of the odoriferous body is always at- tended with the sensations of smell, we form the habit of attributing the sensations to that body as their cause. This mental reference is made with almost as much promptness, as if it were necessarily involved in the sensation itself. Accordingly when we are said to perceive the smell, or to have perceptions of the smell of a body, the three things, mentioned in the definition of perception, are al- ways supposed to exist; (1) The presence of the odori- ferous body and the affection of its appropriate organ ; (2) The change or sensation in the mind ; and (3) The reference of the sensation to the external body as its cause. §. 38. Of the sense and the perceptions of taste. A sapid body is applied to the organ of taste. The appli- cation of such body immediately causes a change or affec- tion of the sensorial organ ; and this is at once followed by a mental affection. Thus we have the sensations and perceptions, to which we give the names, sweet, bitter, sour, acrid, &c. The affections of the mind are referred by us to some- thing, external to itself, which we call bitter, sweet, &c. as their cause. This reference is made very rapidly, so that we at once say of one apple, it is sweet, and of another, it is sour ; but it will always be found to be sub- seo^ient, in point of time, to the new mental state. As in the case of smells, which have been already remark- EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 55 cd upon, the reference is the result of our former expe- rience. We say of one body, it is sweet, and of another, it is acrid, because we have ever observed, that the mental states, indicated by those terms, have always existed in connection with the presence of those bodies. "Whenever, therefore, we say of any bodies, that they are sweet, bitter, acrid, or apply any other epithets, ex- pressive of sapid qualities, we mean to be understood to say, that such bodies are fitted in the constitution of things to cause in the mind the perceptions of sweetness, bitter- ness, and acridness, or other perceptions, expressed by de- nominations of taste. Or, in other words, that they are the established antecedents of such mental states, as there is, further than this, no necessary connection between them. §. 30. Of the sense of hearing and of sounds. Sounds, which we perceive by means of the sense of hearing, are caused by undulations of elastic air, set in motion by the sonorous body and striking on the tympa- num of the ear. Sounds differ, first, in the tone ; secondly, in the strength of the tone. It is remarked by Dr. Reid, that five hundred variations of tone may be perceived by the ear, also an equal number of variations in the strength of the tune ; making, as he informs us, by a combination of the tones and of the degrees of strength, not less than twenty thousand simple sounds, differing either in tone or strength. In a perfect tone a great many undulations of elastic air are required, which must be of equal duration and ex- tent, and follow each other with perfect regularity. Each undulation is made up of the advance and retreat of innu- merable particles of elastic air, whose motions are all uni- form in direction, force, and time. Accordingly, there will be varieties in the same tone, arising from the position and manner of striking the sonorous body, from the constitution of the elastic medium, and from the state of the organ of hearing. Different instruments, such as a flute, a violin, and a Sfi THE SENSES AND bass-viol may all sound the same tone, and yet be easily distinguishable. A considerable number of human voices may sound the same note, and with equal strength, and yet there will be some difference. The same voice, while it maintains the proper distinctions of sound, may yet be varied many ways by sickness or health, youth or age, and other alterations in our bodily condition, to which we are incident. §. 40. Manner in which we learn the place of sounds. Previous to all experience, we should not know, wheth- er a sound came from the right or left, from above or be- low, from a smaller or greater distance. Dr. Reid mentions, that once, as he was lying abed* having been put into a fright, he heard his own heart beat. He took it to be some one knocking'at the door, and arose, and opened the door oftener than once before he discover- ed, that the sound was in his own breast. Some traveller has related, that when he first heard the roaring of a lion in a desert wilderness, not seeing the animal, he did not know on what side to apprehend danger, as the sound seem- ed to him to proceed from the ground, and to enclose a circle, of which he and his companions stood in the centre. It is by custom or experience, that we learn to distin- guish the place of things, and, in some measure also, their nature, by means of their sound. It is thus that we learn, that one noise is in a contiguous room, that another is above our heads, and another in the street. And what seems to be an evidence of this is, that when we are in a strange place, after all our experience, we very frequently find ourselves mistaken in these respects. If a man born deaf were suddenly made to hear, he would probably consider his first perceptions of sound as originating wholly within himself. But in process of time we learn not only to refer the origin of sounds to a posi- tion above or below, to the right or left ; but to connect each particular sound with a particular external cause, re- ferring one to a bell as its appropriate external cause, ano- ther to a flute, another to a trumpet. EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 57 $. 41. Connection of hearing with language. One of the greatest benefits of the sense of hearing is, that, in consequence of it, we are enabled to hold inter- course with each other by means of spoken language, with- out which the advancement of the human mind must have inevitably been very limited. It is by means of speech, that we express our feelings to the little company of our neighbours and our own fam- ily ; and without it this pleasant and cheering intercourse must be almost entirely suspended. Not limited in its beneficial results to families and neighbourhoods, it has been made the medium of the transmission of thought from age to age, from generation to generation. So that in one age has been concentrated the result of all the researches, the combination of the wisdom of all the preceding. " There is without all doubt," it has been observed, "a chain of the thoughts of human kind, from the origin of the world down to the moment at which we exist, a chain not less universal than that of the generation of every be- ing, that lives. Ages have exerted their influence on ages ; nations on nations; truths on errours ; errours on truths." Whether oral language be an invention of man, or a power bestowed upon him by his Creator and coeval with the human race, the ear must in either case have been the primary recipient; — the faculty of speech so necessary and so beneficial could not have existed without the sense of hearing. 4. 42. Of the sense and the perceptions of touch. The principal organ of touch is the hand. This part of our frame is composed of various articulations, that by the aid of the muscles are easily moveable, so that it can adapt itself readily to the various changes of form in the objects, to which it is applied. The senses, which have been already mentioned, are more simple and uniform in their results, than that of the touch. By the ear we have a perception of sounds, or that sensation, which we denominate hearing. By the palate we have a knowledge of tastes, and by the sense of smelling Si THE SENSES AND we become acquainted with the odours of bodies. The knowledge, which is directly acquired by all these senses, is limited to the qualities, which have been mentioned. By the sense of touch, on the contrary, we become ac- quainted not with one merely, but with a variety of qual- ities, such as the following, heat and cold, hardness and softness, roughness and smoothness, figure, solidity, mo- tion, and extension. §. 43. The idea of externality or outness suggested by the sense of touch. If man were possessed of the sense of smell alone, it would be found, that the earliest elements of his knowledge consisted exclusively in sensations of odours. According, however, as these sensations were agreeable or disagreable, he would acquire the additional ideas of pleasure and pain. And having experienced pleasure and pain, we may suppose, that this would subsequently give rise to the notions of desire and aversion. But if he had no other sense, all these feelings would seem to him to be internal, to be mere emanations from the soul itself ; and he would be incapable of referring them to an external cause. If he were possessed of the sense of hearing alone, the result would be similar ; his existence would then seem to consist of harmony, as in the other case it would be made up of fragrance; nor indeed by the aid merely of both these senses combined, would he be able to form an idea of externality or outness. But this idea is a most important one ; it is the con- necting thought, which introduces us to an acquaintance with a new form of existence, different from that interiour existence, which we variously call by the names, spirit, mind, or soul. This idea first arises in the mind from the sense of touch. All the senses, not excluding the smell and the taste, which are the least important in a mere intellectual point of view, have their share in bringing the mind into action ; they are the primitive sources of thought and of emotion. The mind becomes, in consequence of the senses, full of EXTERNAL PERCEPTION flf activity, although its acts are at first wholly internal. It compares, abstracts, reasons, chooses, wills ; and meeting with no obstacle, it finds every thing easy, and a source of pleasure. But alter a time it chooses to move the limbs in this direction or that; it chooses to press the hand through this bright, or that fragrant body ; and its voli- tion is checked, its desire is counteracted, the wonted series of thoughts is disturbed and broken ; but without even the interval of a momentary pause of wonder, there arises vividly in the soul a new thought, a new feeling, which we call the idea of externality or outness. It is the sense of touch, which impinges upon the obstacle, that is thrown across the direction of our volition ; and none other of the senses possesses this power. It thus breaks the con- nection and tendency of thought, and gives rise to a new idea. And this idea, arising without doubt under these circumstances, becomes associated with all those notions, which we subsequently furm of matter. §. 44. Of the benefits of the sense of sight. Of those instruments of perception, with which a be- nevolent Providence has furnished us, a high rank must be given to the sense of seeing. If we were restricted in the process of acquiring knowledge to the informations of the touch merely, how many embarrassments would attend our progress and how slow it would prove ! Having never possessed sight it would be many years, before the most acute and active person could furm an idea of a moun- tain or even of a large edifice. But by the additional help of the sense of seeing, he not only observes the figure of large buildings, but is in a moment possessed of all the beauties of a wide and variegated landscape. It does not fall within our plan to give a minute des- cription of the eye, which belongs rather to the anatomist, but such a description, with a statement of the uses of the different parts of the organ, must be to a candid and re- flecting mind a most powerful argument in proof of the ex- istence and goodness of the Supreme Being. How won- derful among other things is the adaptation of the rays of GO THE SENSES AND light to the eye ! If those minute particles, which come to us with such inconceivable rapidity from all things around us, were not coloured, we should be deprived of much of that high satisfaction, which we now take, in beholding surrounding objects ; and if they were not of a texture so extremely small, they would cause much pain to the organ of vision. §. 45. Statement of the mode or process in visual perception. In the process of vision, the rays of light, coming from various objects and in various directions, strike in the first place on the pellucid or transparent part of the ball of the eye. If they were to continue passing on precisely in the same direction, they would produce merely one mingled and indistinct expanse of colour. In the progress through the chrystalline humour, they are refracted or bent from their former direction and dis- tributed to certain focal points on the retina, which is a white, fibrous expansion of the optic nerve. The rays of light, coming from objects in the field of vision, whether it be more or less extensive, as soon as they have been distributed on their distinct portions of the re- tina, and have formed an image there, are immediately followed by the sensation or perception, which is termed sight. The image which is pictured on the retina, is the last step, which we are able to designate in the material part of the process in visual perception ; the mental state follows, but it is not in our power to trace, even in the smallest de- gree, any physical connection between the optical image and the corresponding state of the mind. All that we can say in this case is, that we suppose them to hold to each other the relation of antecedent and conse- quent by an ultimate law of our constitution. §. 46. Of the connection which the brain has wiU* perception. It was an odd opinion, which once widely prevailed, that our ideas are inscribed in marks or traces in the EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 01 medullary substance of the brain. " So soon as the soul (says Malebranche in his Search after Truth) receives some new ideas, it imprints new traces in the brain, and so soon as the object produces new traces, the soul receive* new ideas." This leads us to observe, without taking up time in re- marking on this now exploded opinion, that the brain is a prominent organ in the material part of the process of sensa- tion and of external perception. The sensorial substance, as it exists in the nerves, excepting the coat, in which it is enveloped, is the same as in the brain, being of the same soft and partially fibrous texture and in perfect continuity with it. When the brain is in an unsound state, or has been in any way injured, both the external impression and the consequent perception are very imperfect. Also if the nerve, which is a supposed continuation of the brain, be injured, or if its continuity be disturbed by the pressure of a tight ligature, the effect is the same ; both the external impression and the perception are either destroyed or are imperfect. The brain, therefore, and the nerves in continuity with it constitute the sensorial organ, which in the subordinate organs of taste, of smell, of sight, of touch, and of hear- ing, presents itself under different modifications to exter- nal objects. On this organ, the sensorial, as thus explain- ed, an impression must be made, before there can be per- ception. An impression, for instance, is made on that part of the sensorial organ called the auditory nerve, and a state of mind immediately succeeds, which is termed the sensation, ®r the perception of sound. An impression is made by the rays of light on that ex- pansion of the optic nerve, which forms what is termed the retina, and the intellectual principle is immediately brought into that new position, which is termed visual p6r- ception. The hand is impressed on a body of an uneven and rough surface, and immediately consequent on thil kopres- .9 (52 THE SENSES AND sion, is that state of mind, which is termed a sensation or perception of roughness. §. 47. Impressions on the senses and perceptions are antecedents and consequents. In all these cases, as we have already remarked in re- spect to sight in particular, the impression made on the or- gan of sense is the antecedent, the mental perception is the consequent ; and wc are utterly unable, further than the mere fact of precedence and sequence, to trace any con- nection between them. But while we can see in instances of this description no necessary, no physical connection between the perception of the mind and the impression on the senses, we clearly discover the agency of the Supreme Being, who has appointed and sustains this connection, which is in itself arbitrary and conventional. We do in- deed in common discourse speak of cause and effect, as if we could perceive how one follows another, but there is no other cause and effect in the physical world than that of antecedent and consequent; and the instances, which we thus name, are to be resolved into the independent and uncontrolled power of God. Although too frequently we do not behold Him, he is truly every where present, and his almighty power is unceasingly at work. It is no matter whether His divine agency be consid- ered mediate or immediate, direct or secondary. These terms are less adapted to the true nature of this agency, than to the feeble conceptions, which the human mind forms of it. If we cannot predicate time of the existence of the Supreme Being, we can no more predicate time of his physical acts, except it be relatively to the limited conceptions of the human intellect. The agency of God is one thing ; the mode of it is another. In the mode of his agency, he has kindly conformed himself to the weak- ness of those understandings, which are called upon to be- hold and adore it. But its nature is the same, and equal- ly eilicient and worthy of our admiration, whenever and however it be exhibited ; whether it be employed in what may be termed the secondary labour of gilding the wing EXTERNAL PERCEPTION W % of an insect, or in the original and creative effort of kind- ling the burning fountains of the sun. §. 48. Of the estimation of distance by sight. By the distance of objects, when we use the term in reference to ourselves, we mean the space, which is inter- posed between those objects and our own position, it might be objected, that space interposed is only a synony- mous expression for the thing to be defined. Neverthe- less, no one can be supposed to be ignorant of what is meant. Even blind men have a notion of distance, and can measure it by the touch, or by walking forward until they meet the distant object. The perception of distance by the sight is an acquired and not an original perception ; although the latter was universally supposed to be the fact, until comparatively a recent period. All objects in the first instance appear to touch the eye. Our experience has corrected so many of the repre- sentations of the senses before the period, which we are yet able to retrace by the memory, that we cannot prove this by a reference to our own childhood and infancy. It appears, however, from the statement of the cases of persons born blind on the sudden restoration of their sight. " When he first saw, (says Cheselden, the anatomist, when giving an account of a young man, whom he had restored to sight by couching for the cataract,) he was so far from making any judgment about distances, that he thought all objects touched his eyes, as he expressed it, as what he felt, did his skin ; and thought no objects so agreeable as those, which were smooth and regular, al- though lie could form no judgment of their shape, or guess what it was in any object, that was pleasing to him." This anatomist has further informed us, that he has brought to sight several others, who had no remembrance of ever having seen; and that they all gave the same ac- count of tiieir learning to see, as they called it. as the young man already mentioned, although not in se man* 04 THE SENSES AND particulars ; and that they all had this in common, that having never had occasion to move their eyes, they knew not how to do it, and, at first, could not at all direct them to a particular object ; but in time they acquired tiiat faculty, though by slow degrees. Blind persons, when at first restored to sight, are una- ble to estimate the distance of objects by that sense, but soon observing, that certain changes in the visible appear- ance of bodies always accompany a change of distance, they fall upon a method of estimating distance by the vis- ible appearance. And it would no doubt be found, if it could be particularly examined into, that all mankind come to possess the power of estimating the distances of objects by sight in the same way. When a body is removed from us and placed at a considerable distance, it becomes smaller in its visible appearance, its colours are less live- ly, and its outlines less distinct ; and we may expect to find a number of intermediate objects, more or fewer, as the distance may happen to be, showing themselves be- tween the receding object and the spectator. And hence it is, that a certain visible appearance comes to be the sign of a certain distance. Historical and landscape painters are enabled to turn these facts to great account in their delineations. By means of dimness of colour, indistinctness of outline, and the partial interposition of other objects, they are enabled apparently to throw back at a very considerable distance from the eye those objects, which they wish to appear re- mote. While other objects, that are intended to appear near, are painted vivid in colour, large in size, distinct in outline, and are separated from the eye of the spectator by few or no intermediate objects. §.49. Of the estimation of distance when unaided by intermediate objects. As we depend in no small degree upon intermediate objects in forming our notions of distance, it results, that we are often much perplexed by the absence of such ob- jects. Accordingly we find, that people frequently mis- EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 63 take, when they attempt to estimate by the eye the length or width of unoccupied plains and marshes, generally ma- king the extent less than it really is. For the same rea- son they misjudge of the width of a river, estimating its width at half or three quarters of a mile at the most, when it is perhaps not less than double that distance. The same holds true of other bodies of water; and of all other things, which are seen by us in a horizontal position, and under similar circumstances. We mistake in the same way also in estimating the height of steeples, and of other bodies, that are perpendic- ular, and not on a level with the eye, provided the height be considerable. As the upper parts of the steeple out- top the surrounding buildings, and there are no contiguous objects with which to compare it, any measurement taken by the eye must be inaccurate, but is generally less than the truth. But it has been noticed, that a man on the top of a steeple appears smaller to those below, than the same man would seem to the same persons, and at the same distance on level ground. This does not disagree with the preceding statement ; but then it is in part to be explained in this way. As we have been in the habit of measur- ing distances by the eye, we can give a pretty near guess, whether a person be at an hundred fcef distance, or more or less ; and the mind immediately makes an allowance, and corrects the first visual representation so rapidly that we do not remember it. But having never been in the habit of measuring perpendicular distances, the mind is at a loss, and fails to make that correction, which it would very readily, and, as it were, intuitively make in the case of any objects on level ground. So that a man an hun- dred feet in the air appears to us smaller, than at the same removal from us on the earth. The fixed stars, when viewed by the eye, all appear to be alike indefinitely and equally distant. Being scattered over the whole sky, they make every part of it seem like themselves at an indefinite and equal distance, and, there- fore, contribute to give the whole sky the appearance of GO THE SENSES AND the inside of a sphere. Moreover, the horizon seems to the eye to be further off than the zenith ; because be- tween us and the former there lie many things, as fields, hills, and waters, which we know to occupy a great space ; whereas between us and the zenith there are no considera- ble things of known dimensions. And, therefore, the heavens appear like the segment of a sphere, and less than a hemisphere, in the centre of which we seem to stand. And the wider our prospect is, the greater will the sphere appear to be and the less the segment. In connection with what has been said, we are led to make this further remark, that a change in the purity of the air will perplex in some measure those ideas of dis- tance, which we receive from sight. Bishop Berkeley re- marks while travelling in Italy and Sicily, he noticed, that cities and palaces, seen at a great distance, appeared nearer to him by several miles than they actually were. The cause of this he very correctly supposed to be the purity of the Italian and Sicilian air, which gave to ob- jects at a distance a degree of brightness and distinctness, which in the less clear and pure atmosphere of his native country, could be observed only in those towns and sepa- rate edifices, which were near. At home he had learnt to estimate the distance of objects by their appearance ; but his conclusions failed him, when they came to be applied to objects in countries, where the air was so much clear- er. And the same thing has been noticed by other travellers, who have been placed in the like circum- stances. §. 50. Of objects seen on the ocean, &c. A vessel seen at sea by a person, who is not accustom- ed to the ocean, appears much nearer than it actually is ; and on the same principles as already illustrated. In his previous observations of objects at a distance, he has com- monly noticed a number of intermediate objects, interpos- ed between the distant body and himself. It is probably the absence of such objects, that chiefly causes the de- ception, under which he labours in the u^esent instance. EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. IT And this naturally leads to a remark on the power, which those who follow the soa are said to po se»§; of dis- tinguishing objects at a distance. They not only judge of the distance better, but tJtey are thought to see much further than others. Frequently the expetietoeed sailor will discover a vessel approaching in the edge of the hori- zon, and even be able to state the direction of her course and the number of her masts, white the land-man sees nothing of the kind ; At least he thinks so. Perhaps, however, they both in many cases see the same small speck, but it speaks to them a very different language. To the sailor that mere speck is a vessel ; the small breaks, which he discerns in it, distinctly convey to his mind the idea of sails and masts ; he interprets the dim and dimin- ished signs before him as certainly and as gladly, as one reads his mother tongue. But to the land man, who has never been practised in this sort of interpretation, these signs are without signification ; they are a foreign lan- guage, which conveys no meaning. §. 51. Idea of extension not originally from sight. We have seen, that our idea of distance is not derived originally from the sight, but from the touch. Our idea of extension has the same origin. As distance is the space in- t<*rposed between one object and another, extension may be described as the distance between the parts of the same object, where in the intermediate parts there is a continuity of the same substance. And yet the true notion of ex- tension, like that of distance, is better learnt from personal experience than from any form of words, which may lie employed to convey it. If a man, endued with sight, were to be fixed all his days in one place immovcabiy, and were deprived of the means of gaining any experience by the touch, that man could never, from the information of his own senses, re- ceive any accurate knowledge of extension. But having learnt in time what appearance coloured and extended bodies make to tne eye, he comes to learn from that ap- pearance the extension of bodies, muck the Mine as he es- m THE SENSES ANli fimates their distance from their appearance. Therefore, we rightly say, that this idea is originally from the sense of touch. An affection of the sense of touch is the oc- casion, on which the mind possesses it ; and it is an idea of the sense of sight only by acquisition or expe- rience. And this statement leads us to the consideration of magnitude or limited extension, which is also estimated by the eye, although the power of thus measuring it, like that of measuring distances and extension, is not an original perception, but is acquired by the aid of the touch. §. 52. Measurements of magnitude by the eye. Magnitude is divided into two kinds, tangible and visi- ble ; the tangible magnitude being always the same, but the visible varying with the distance of the object. A man of six feet stature is always that height, whether he be a mile distant, or half a mile, or near at hand ; the change of place making no change in his real or tangible magni- tude. But the visible magnitude of this man may be six feet or not one foot, as we view him present with us, or at two miles distance ; for his magnitude appears to our eye greater or less, according as he is more or less re- moved. Of two objects equally distant or supposed to be equally distant, that, which has the greatest visible mag- nitude, is supposed to have the greatest tangible magni- tude. To a man bewildered in a mist, objects seem larger than the life, because their faint appearance conveys the idea of great distance, and an object at a considerable dis- tance, which has the same visible magnitude with one near, the mind immediately concludes to be larger. The sun and moon seem larger in the horizon than in the meridian, appearing then to be at the greatest distance, both because the horizon for a reason already given may- seem more remote than the zenith, and particularly be- cause there is necessarily a greater mass of atmosphere between the eye and those bodies when they are thus sit- EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. (ft uated, than when they are in the meridian. In mis- ty weather they appear unusually enlarged, when they are horizontal. And this is sometimes noticed to be the case, when the atmosphere is clear immediately around us ; and may be owing to an accumulation of vapours and exhalations in some other place, through which the rays pass. §. 53. Of the knowledge of the figure of bodies by the sight. A solid body presents to the eye nothing but a certain disposition of colours and light. We may imagine our- selves to see the prominencies or cavities in such bodies, when in truth we see only the light or the shade, occa- sioned by them. This light and shade, however, we learn by experience to consider as the sign of a certain, solid figure. A proof of the truth of this statement is, that a painter by carefully imitating the distribution of light and shade, which he sees in objects, will make his work very naturally and exactly represent, not only the general outline of a body, but its prominencies, depressions, and other irregu- larities. And yet his delineation, which by the distribu- tion of light and shade gives such various representations, is on a smooth and plain surface. It was a problem submitted by Mr. Molyneux to Mr. Locke, whether a blind man, who has learnt the differ- ence between a cube and a sphere by the touch, can, on being suddenly restored to sight, distinguish between them, and tell, which is the sphere and which is the cube, by the aid of what may be called his new sense merely ? And the answer of Mr. Locke was, that he cannot. The blind man knows what impressions the cube and sphere make on the organ of touch and by that sense is able to distinguish between them, but, as he is ignorant what im- pression they will make on the organ of sight, he is not able by the latter sense alone to tell, which is the round body, and which is the cubic. It was remarked, that solid bodies present to the eye nothing but a certain disposition of light and colours. 10 70 THE SENSES AND It seems to follow from this, that the first idea, which will be conveyed to the mind on seeing a globe, will be that of a circle, variously shadowed with different degrees of light. This imperfect idea is corrected in this way. Combining the suggestions of the sense of touch with those of sight, we learn by greater experience what kind of ap- pearance solid, convex bodies will make to us. That ap- pearance becomes to the mind the sign of the presence of a globe ; so that we have an idea of a round body by a very rapid mental correction, whereas the idea first con- veyed to the mind is truly that of a plane, circular surface, on which there is a variety in the dispositions of light and shade. It is an evidence of the correctness of this state- ment, that in paintings plane surfaces, variously shaded, represent convex bodies, and with great truth and exact- ness. It appears then, that distance, extension, magnitude and figure, are originally perceived, not by sight, but by touch. We do not judge of them by sight, until we have learnt by our experience, that certain visible appearances always accompany and signify certain distances, exten- sions, magnitudes, and figures. This knowledge we ac- quire at a very early period in life, so much so, that we lose in a great measure the memory both of its commence- ment and progress. And yet many people can recollect the time, when they considered the sky to be a transparent and solid concave , resting on the tops of distant mountains. How different is this idea, which we receive from the sight, from what we find in our subsequent experience to be the fact ! §. 54. The senses reciprocally assist each other. The errours and deftciences of one sense are made up and corrected by the friendly presence and suggestions of another. And when any of the senses entirely fail, the others are proportionably quickened and improved. A multitude of instances go to show to what extent this correction and this aid take place. We will suppose, as an illustration, that, at an early EXTERNAL PERCEPTION M period of life, a person loses his sight. An effect on the sense of hearing and of touch is immediately perceived ; they are greatly improved. The blind man cannot see his friend, but he knows, when he enters the room by the sound of his tread : or if his hearing should lead him into errour, he corrects his mis- take by a grasp of the hand. He cannot see the largr and heavy bodies, which happen in his way when he walks about, but he suspects their too great nearness to him in consequence of the increased resistance of the atmos- phere.* And a blind person, owing to the increased accu- racy of the remaining senses, would be better trusted to go through the various apartments of a house, in the darkness of midnight, than one, possessed of the sense of seeing, but without any artificial light to assist him. It is stated on the authority of a Roman historian, that there was a blind man, who made it his employment to conduct mer- chants and other travellers through the sands and deserts of Arabia. This statement seems not to be improbable, when we recollect what is related in the transactions of the Manchester Society in England of John Metcalf, oth- erwise called Blind Jack. He became blind at an early * It is a singular circumstance, that something similar to what is here stated of the ability of blind men to discover the nearness or dis- tance of objects by changes in the resistance of the atmosphere, has been noticed by the naturalist, Spallanzani, in respect to bats. He discovered, that bats when perfectly blinded and afterwards set at liberty, had the extraordinary faculty cf guiding themselves through the most complicated windings of subterraneous passages, without striking against the walls, and that they avoided with great skill cords, branches of trees, and other obstacles, placed by design in their way. This ability is probably owing to an extreme delicacy in the wing, which is of a very large size in proportion to that of the animal, and is covered with an exceedingly fine net-work of nerves. The bat, as it strikes the air with its wing, receives sensations of heat, cold, and resistance, and, in consequence, is enabled to avoid objects, which would otherwise obstruct its flight, apparently in the same way that blind persons perceive a door or a wall by a change in the tem- perature or in the resistance of the air. VJ THE SENSES AND period; but, notwithstanding, followed the profession of a waggoner and occasionally of a guide in intricate roads, during the night, or when the tracks were covered with snow. At length he became a projector and surveyor of highways in difficult and mountainous districts ; an em- ployment, for which one would naturally suppose a blind man to be but indifferently qualified. But he was found to answer all the expectations of his employers, and most of the roads over the peak in Derbyshire in England were altered by his directions. Says the person, who gives this account of Blind Jack, " I have several times met this man with the assistance only of a long staff traversing the roads, ascending precipices, exploring vallies, and investigating their several extents, forms, and situations, so as to an- swer his designs in the best manner." (Ed. Ency. Art. Blindness.) This improvement of the remaining senses, when one of them is lost, is probably owing to the increased atten- tion, which people then bestow upon the various and nice- ly distinguished suggestions, which they furnish. Noth- ing escapes them, and those dim perceptions, which were formerly almost unnoticed, now convey to them important information. §. 55. Supposed feelings f a being called into existence in the full possession of his powers. In the Natural History of the celebrated Buffon we have an account of the process, by which the use of the sight and of the other external senses is acquired. He invents a delightful recital, and puts it in the mouth of our first parent ; and thus instructs us in the most abstruse subjects by an appeal to the imagination. "Let us suppose (says he) a man newly brought into exis- tence, whose body and organs are already perfectly form- ed, but who, awaking amidst the productions of Nature, is an utter stranger to every thing he perceives both from without, and from within. Of a man thus circumstanced what would be the first emotions, the first sensations, the first opinion* ? Were he himself to give us a detail of his EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 73 conceptions at this period, how would he express them? Might it not be in some measure as follows ? " Well do I recollect that joyful, anxious moment, when I first became conscious of my own existence. I knew not what 1 was, where I was, or whence I came. On opening my eyelids, what an addition to my surprise ! The light of day, the azure vault of heaven, the verdure of the earth, the chrysial of the waters, all employed, all ani- mated, and filled me with inexpressible delight." " At first, I imagined that all those objects were within me, and formed a part of myself. Impressed with this idea, I turned my eyes towards the sun, whose splendour instantly dazzled and over-powered me. Involuntarily 1 closed my eyelids, though not without a slight sensation of pain; and, during this short interval of darkness, I im- agined that 1 was about to sink into nothing." " Full of affliction and astonishment, I had begun to ponder on this great change, when, listening, I heard a variety of sounds. The whistling of the wind, and the melody of the grove, formed a concert, of which the soft impression pervaded the inmost recesses of my soul. I con- tinued to listen ; nor could I banish the persuasion, that all this music was actually within me." " So much was I engrossed with this new kind of exis- tence, that I entirely forgot the light, that other part of my being, which I had known the first, till again I had opened my eyes. What joy to find myself once more in possession of so many brilliant objects ! The present pleasure surpassed the former, and for a time suspended the charming effect of sounds." "I turned my eyes upon a thousand different objects. These, which I still considered as a part of myself, I soon found that I could lose, and restore, at pleasure ; and with a repetition of this new power I continued to amuse myself." " I had begun to see without emotion, and to hear with- out confusion, when a light breeze, of which the freshness communicated a new sensation of pleasure, wafted its per- 74 THE SENSES AND fumes to me, and excited in me a kind of additional self- love." " Agitated by all these different sensations, and impel- led by the various pleasures of my new existence, I in- stantly arose, and in arising perceived myself moved along, as by if by some unknown, some hidden power." " Hardly had I advanced one step, when the novelty of my situation rendered me, as it were, immoveable. My surprise returned; for I supposed that all the objects around me were in motion ; to them I ascribed that agita- tion, which I had myself produced by changing place ; and the whole creation seemed once more to be in disorder." " I carried my hand to my head ; I touched my fore- head : I felt my whole frame. Then it was that I first con- ceived my hand to be the principal organ of my existence. All its informations were so distinct, so perfect, and so su- perior to what I had experienced from the other senses, that I employed myself for some time in repeating its en- joyments. Every part of my body, which I touched with my hand, seemed to touch my hand in turn, and actually gave back sensation for sensation." " It was not long before I perceived that this faculty was expanded over my whole frame and before I began to discover the limits of my existence, which, at first, I had supposed of an immense extent, and diffused over all the objects I saw." " Upon casting my eyes upon my body, and surveying my own form I conceived it to be of a size so enormous, that all the objects, which had hitherto struck my eyes, seemed to be, in comparison, as so many luminous parti- cles. I gazed upon my person with pleasure. I examin- ed the formation of my hand, and all its motions ; and the former appeared to me more or less large, in proportion as it was more or less distant from my eyes. On bringing it very near, it concealed, I found, almost every other ob- ject from my sight." " I began soon, however, to suspect that there was some fallacy in the sensation I experienced from the eye ; and I therefore resolved to depend, for information, upon the EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. touch, which as yet had never deceived me. This precau- tion was highly serviceable. I renewed my motions, and walked forward with my face turned towards the heavens. Happening to strike lightly against a palm tree, I was dis- mayed, and laid my hand, though not without fear, upon this extraneous body ; for extraneous I conceived it to be, as it did not return sensation for sensation, as my former feelings had done. Now it was that, for the first time, I perceived there was something external, something which did not form an actual part of my own existence." " From this new discovery I concluded, that I ought to form my opinion with respect to external objects, in the same manner as 1 had done with respect to the parts of my bodv. I resolved, therefore, to feel whatever I saw ; and, vainlv attempting to touch the sun, I stretched forth my arms, and found nothing but an airy vacuum. At eve- ry effort I made, as each object appeared to me equally near, from one fit of surprise I fell into another ; nor was it till after an infinite number of trials, that I was enabled to use the eye as a guide to the hand, and that I perceiv- ed there were some objects more remote from me than others." " Amazed and mortified at the uncertainty of my state, and at the endless delusions to which I seemed to be sub- jected, the more I reflected, the more I was perplexed. Fatigued and oppressed with thought, I seated myself be- neath a tree, loaded with delicious fruit within my reach. On stretching forth my arm, the fruit instantly separated from the branches, and I seized it. To grasp in my hand an entire substance, which formed no part of myself, pleas- ed me. When 1 held it up, its weight, though in itself tri- vial, seemed, however, like an animated impulse, to incline it to the earth. In conquering this resistance I found another, and a greater pleasure." "I held the fruit near my eye, and I considered its form, and its colours. Its fragrance prompted mc to car- ry it nearer and nearer, and with eagerness did I inhale that fragrance. The perfume invited my sense of tasting, which I found to be superior to that of smelling. A\ hat 76 THE SENSES AND savour, what novelty of sensation, did I now experience. Nothing could be more exquisite. What before had been pleasure, was now heightened into luxury. The power of tasting gave me the idea of possession. I imagined that the substance of this fruit had become a part of my own substance, and that I was impowered to transform things without me at will." " Charmed with the idea of this new power, and inci- ted by the sensations, I had already experienced, I contin- ued to pluck the fruit ; nor did I think any labour too great for the satisfaction of my taste. At length, however, an agreeable languor stealing upon my senses, my limbs became heavy, and my soul seemed to lose its activity. My sensations, no longer vivid and distinct, presented to me only feeble and irregular images. In the instant, as it were, my eyes became useless, closed ; and my head, no longer borne up by the strength of the muscles, sunk back, and found a support upon the verdant turf beneath me." §. 56. Of the senses considered as the foundation of belief and knowledge. It has already been remarked, that the senses are one source of belief and knowledge. This is allowedly one of those primary truths, which we continually receive as the necessary conditions of opinion, reasoning, and action. The conduct of men, as we daily and constantly behold it, warrants the reception of it as such. We are, therefore, led to observe in connection with the views hitherto pre- sented in this chapter, that the contrary opinion, which has been maintained by a few persons, is founded on an errour, which can now be easily understood and illustra- ted. The errour, to which we alllude, is this ; A mistak- en OPINION AS TO the APPROPRIATE FUNCTIONS OF EACH OF THE SENSES. Look at each of the senses separately, and see the truth of this remark. It is the appropriate business of the sense of smelling to give us ideas of odours. We may be led to look for the cause of these new sensations, but noth- ing more. We do not learn from it what that cause is. EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. p It is not pretended, that this sense alone can give us the notion of an external, odoriferous body. The sense of taste is equally limited with that of smell, but both, as far as they go, are grounds of knowledge, and do not deceive. It might no doubt be said, that they may be diseased, and thus mislead us ; but the remarks of this section go on the supposition, that the senses are in a sound state. When we come to the sense of hearing, we find, that the percep- tions of sound have in part an acquired character. The reference of a particular sound to a particular external cause always implies the exercise of the sense of touch, also of that principle of the mind, which is termed asso- ciation. But hearing, when in a sound state, is always a ground of belief and knowledge, as far as the mere sensa- tion of sound is concerned ; and so far can be most certain- ly trusted. The sense of sight, against which the heaviest com- plaints have been made by the Sceptics, makes us acquaint- ed with the colours of bodies. To say, therefore, that it misleads us in respect to solidity, extension, size, direc- tion, or distance, is but very little, or rather nothing to the purpose. These are acquired perceptions, and have their origin in another sense, that of touch. And hence on the question, Whether our senses mis- lead us ? we are to consider, to which of the senses the particular ideas under review appropriately belong. And also in our search after truth, it becomes us to call in the aid of all the senses, and not to consult one to the entire omission of the others. They all make parts of one great and wonderful system, and cannot be safely separated. When they are in a sound state, when the ideas, of which they are the origin, are properly discriminated, and fur- ther, when the intimations of one sense are aided by tho.^e of another and by the guidance of the reasoning power, which clearly ought not to be excluded, we may then con- fidently expect to be led by them into the truth, so far as ©ur Creator designed, that it should be made known to us. 1 I ;3 THE SENSES AND §. 57. Historical notice of the doctrine of acquired visual perceptions. There is abundant evidence, that the doctrine of ac- quired perceptions of sight was unknown to antiquity. "It is not, (says Aristotle, Ethic. Nicomach, Lib. II. cap. 1.,) from seeing often or from hearing often, that we get these senses ; but, on the contrary, instead of getting them by using them, we use them, because we have got them." Nor was this doctrine understood and clearly proved until a somewhat recent period, it being the re- ceived opinion even among well informed persons, that the eye judges naturally of the magnitude, figure., and dis- tances of objects. But there were difficulties attending that view of the subject ; it was not readily seen, how an original and natural power of judging by the sense of sight could well consist with the mistakes, which were found to be made. In the conclusion of the Optical Lectures of Dr. Barrow, who flourished about the middle of the seven- teenth century, and is well known both for his theological and mathematical writings, the author alludes to the sub- ject of our visual perceptions in such a way as to let us know what perplexity rested upon it so late as that pe- riod. He frankly acknowledges, that there are some facts in relation to the perception of the distances of external objects, which are involved in the mysteries of nature, and will probably not be cleared up, until the manner of vis- ion shall be more perfectly known. He finds himself too much at a loss even to attempt an explanation, and ac- cordingly leaves them to future inquirers. At a later period, Mr. Molyneux and Mr. Locke evi- dently had views on this subject closely approximating to what is now considered the true explanation of these phe- nomena, as may be inferred in particular from some re- marks concerning them, which are made in the second book of the Essay on the Understanding. But it is only justice to a learned and ingenious man to remark here, that the statement of our visual percep- tions, as above given in the sections relating to them, was first fully proposed and established by Dr. Berkeley, bishop of Cloyne, in a work published in 1709, and entitled EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 71* \N B«SAY TOWARDS A NEW THEORY OF VISION. This \\ Oris. is written in a simple and perspicuous style, well adapted to philosophical subjects, and is pronounced by Adain Smith, (no incompetent judge,) to be one of the finest ex- amples of philosophical analysis, that is to be found in our own, or any other language. The reasonings and illustrations of Berkeley are con- firmed by the experiments of Cheselden ; and more re- cently the whole subject has been placed in new and in- teresting lights by Dugald Stewart in his Account of James Mitchell, a boy born Deaf and Blind, and also in other pas- sages of that admirable writer. Note. The following writers also have remarked more or less fully on the topics of this chapter. Male- branche, Search after Truth, Bk. I. chap. 9 Condillac, Essay on the Origin of Human Knowledge, Pt. I. §. 6. The Same, Treatise on Sensations, (Traite des Sensations.) Reid, Inquiry into the Human Mind, chap. 2, 3, 4, &c. Beattie on the Imagination. Adam Smith, Essay on the External Senses. Button, Natural History, Art. Man. De Stutt Tracy, Elements of Ideology, (Elemens d' Ideol- ogic,) chap. 3. Brown, Philosophy of the Human Mind, Lects. xvi.— xxv. Burner, First Truths, Pt. I. chap. 16. CHAPTER FIFTH. INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. $. 58. The senses are not the only source of our ideas. J. hus far we have traced the history of the mind ; and perhaps with some degree of satisfaction. With cau- tious endeavours not to trespass upon those limits, which our Creator himself has set to our inquiries, we have found the mind awakening from its inactivity, and testing the untried strength of its powers. A fruitful subject has been opened before us ; but thus far, it is to be remem- bered, we have seen the mind unfolding its susceptibili- ties only in connection with external impressions on the senses. A new view is to be taken of it. " The natural progress of all true learning (says the author of Hermes) is from sense to intellect." Beginning with the senses, and first considering the ideas which we there receive, we are next to enter into the mind itself, and shall there discover a new and prolific source of knowl- edge. In thus doing, we tread, as we proposed to do, in the steps of Locke, whose general doctrine undoubtedly is, that a part of our ideas may be traced to the senses, and that the origin of others is to be sought in the intellect itself. " The other fountain, (says Locke,) from which ex- perience furnisheth the understanding with ideas, is the perception of the operations of our own minds within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got ; which ope- rations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish the understanding with another set of ideas,which INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. 31 could not be had from things without ; and such are per- ception, thinking, doubting, believing, reaswing, knowing, trilling, and all the different actings of our own minds, which, we being conscious of, and observing in ourselves, do from these receive into our understandings ideas as dis- tinct, as we do from bodies affecting our senses. This source of ideas every man has wholly in himself: And though it be not sense, as having nothing to do with external objects, yet it is very like it, and might properly enough be called internal seme. But as I call the other Sensation, so I call this Reflection ; the ideas it affords being such only as the mind gets by reflecting on its own operations within itself." §.59. The great sources of our knowledge are twofold, external and internal. The earliest sources or occasions of our knowledge, therefore, are two; (1) The affections of our senses by means of external objects ; (2) The various operations of the mind itself, of which we are conscious. In other words, they are the world without and the world within ; the external creation, between which and our bodily sens- es Providence has instituted a common and reciprocal adaptation, and the internal, mental creation, which no sooner commences its various and appropriate exercises, than we are furnished with another series of ideas, which never could have been received from the senses alone. The notions, which we receive from these two sources, are concisely known in Locke's Philosophy, as ideas of sensation and of reflection. Xor does there seem to be any good reason, when its precise import is understood, why this phraseology, which is sanctioned by long use and respectable names, should not continue to be employed. This great and characteristic point in the history of our intellectual experiences is fully recognized by a mul- titude of inquirers into this subject in different countries ; and among others in certain writers on the Philosophy of the Mind, who have from time to time made their appearance among the Germans. This was clearly the opinion of the famous Kant, whatever degree of uncertainty and doubt 8-2 INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. is found to rest upon other articles of his metaphysical system. He evidently gives us to understand, that the mental operations themselves, although the senses are the first occasions of those operations, furnish a new set of notions, which cannot directly be traced to any thing external. A somewhat peculiar phraseology, however, has been employed by these writers, which it is of some importance to retain in mind. Those ideas, which exist in consequence of some external affection of the senses, are called by them objective ; those, which spring into exis- tence solely in consequence of the mere nature and work- ings of the intellect, are termed subjective ; the source of the one class being the objects without, and of the oth- er the sentient principle within.* Such in brief is that theory, which will be found to be supported by facts ; which claims to be true ; and which opens up many new and ennobling views of the constitution and destiny of hu- man nature. *Note. The two short extracts following go to con- firm what is above stated. Der Zeit nach geht also keine Erkentniss in uns vor der Erfahrung vorher, und mit dieserfangt alle an. Wenn aber gleich alle unsere Er- kenntniss mit der Erfahrung anhebt, so entspringt sie darum doch nicht eben alle ausder Erfahrung. Denn es konne wohl seyn, dass selbst unsere Erfahrungserkent- niss ein Zusammengesetztes aus dem sey, was wir durch Eindri'icke empfangen, und dem, was unser eigenes Er- kenntnissvermdgen, (durch sinnliche Eindriicke bloss veranlasst,) aus sich selbst hergiebt, welchen Zusatz wir von jenem GrundstofYe nicht eher unterscheiden, als bis lange Uebung uns darauf aufmerksam, und zur Absonder- ung desselben geschikt gemacht hat. Kanfs Critik der reinen Vernunft. Einleitung, I. On appelle, dans la philosophic Allemande, idees sitb- jeciives celles que naissent de la nature de notre intelli- gence et de ses facultes, et idees objectives toutes celles que sont excitees par les sensations. Mad. de Stacl, de V Allemavne. torn. 3. INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. gg §, 60. Writers who have objected to this twofold origin of our knowledge. But it ought not to pass unnoticed, that there have been writers, who have objected to this twofold origin of our knowledge. It was the opinion of Hobbes, who pre- ceded Locke, and was not without merit as a metaphysi- cian, that all our knowledge might be traced to the senses, and that no other source need be sought. This was the opinion of Gassendi, and still later of Condillac, who sup- ported it at length. They maintained, that we have no simple ideas, but such as exist in the mind directly by means of the senses. They further contended, that all those of a complex nature are made up of these simple ideas, and consequently that they may be considered a sort of transformed sensations. " If we consider (says Con- dillac) that to remember, to compare, to judge, to distin- guish, to imagine, to be astonished, to have abstract ideas, to have ideas of number and duration, to know truths, whether general or particular, are but so many modes of being attentive ; that to have passions, to love, to hate, to hope, to fear, to will, are but so many different modes of desire ; and that attention, in the one case, and desire, in the other case, of which all these feelings are modes, are themselves, in their origin, nothing more than modes of sensation, we cannot but conclude that sensation in- volves in itself all the faculties of the soul." This sentence in its evident meaning, and as it is un- derstood both by its author and his commentators, is clear- ly at variance with the doctrine of Locke, and entirely cuts off what has been variously termed the internal, re- flex, or subjective source of our knowledge. According to this doctrine every thing may be traced back to the sen- ses, not merely as its occasion but as its direct cause ; every thing becomes material ; we are utterly unable to form a conception even of the glorious Deity himself, ex- cept under the cfraracter of a sagacious and venerable old man. And in the same way every other idea, however spiritual and whatever it may relate to, must be capable of being followed back to some archetype in outward. 84 INTERNAL ORICJ1N OF THOUGHT. material existences. It is undoubtedly the tendency of this system to degrade the mind ; not only to limit the range, but to depress the character of its powers. The propriety of receiving it, however, does not perhaps so much depend upon its tendency, as upon the direct evi- dence which may be brought in its support, in which it is found to be utterly deficient. §. 61. Of what can truly be ascribed to the senses and what not. In order to have a correct understanding of the point before us, we briefly revert to the nature of the soul itself. Granting the reality of its existence, we were led to see, in the first place, that a distinction might with good rea- son be drawn between the soul and its thoughts. It is true, that men become acquainted with the soul by means of its thoughts ; but these latter can by no means be con- sidered necessary to the soul's existence, except relative- ly to the human mind. It is because the soul would ap- pear to us to have no existence, were it not for its thoughts or its modifications, that we are so prone to identify the one with the other. It appeared also, in the second place, that there are no innate or connatural ideas ; for these were held by the supporters of that doctrine to be coetaneous with the ex- istence of the soul, and therefore might, and would exist independently of any outward affection of the senses. But thought being neither the essential existence of the soul, nor coetaneous with that existence, nothing is more natural than to inquire, When and where our ideas have their origin ? And when we have gone thus far, we rely upon the general experience and testimony of mankind, that their origin is immediately subsequent to some aifec- tion of those bodily organs, which we call the senses. In other words, were it not for impressions on the senses, which may be traced to objects external to them, our men- tal capabilities, whatever they may be, would always have remained folded up, and in a state of fruitless inaction. Hence the process, which is implied in the perception ©f external things, or what is commonlv termed bv Ml. INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. 85 Locke sensation, may justly be considered the occasion or the introductory step to all our knowledge. But it does not follow from this, nor is it by any means true, that the whole amount of it in its ultimate progress is to be ascrib- ed directly to the same source. All that can be said with truth, is, that the mind receives the earliest part of its ideas by means of the senses, and that, in consequence of having received these elementary thoughts, all its powers become rapidly and fully operative. And here we come to the second great source of knowledge. The powers of the mind being thus fairly brought into exercise, its various operations then furnish us with another set of ideas, which, by way of distinguish- ing them from those received through the direct media- tion of the senses, may be called subjective ideas, or more commonly ideas of reflection. These two sources of our thoughts, however they may have been confounded by the writers above alluded to, are entirely distinct. The ideas, which arise from the fact of the previous existence of certain mental operations, could not have been suggested by any thing, which takes place in the external world, in- dependently of those operations. Of this last class, some instances, with illustrations of the same, are now to be mentioned. §. 62. Instances of notions, which have an internal origin. Among other ideas, which are to be ascribed to the second great source, are those, expressed by the terms, thinking, doubting, believing, and certainty. — It is a mat- ter of internal observation, (that is, of consciousness or of reflection, which are synonymous with internal observa- tion.) that the mind does not, and cannot for any length ot time remain inactive. Hence there is occasion given for the origin of that idea, which we denominate thinking. The notion, which we thus call, is framed by the mind under these circumstances; the name is given, and no- body is ignorant as to what is meant by it. But then it is to be marked that its origin is wholly internal; it is to be ascribed to consciousness or reflection no less than the 66 INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. ideas of extension and colours are to be ascribed to the senses. Again ; in the examination of some topic, which is proposed for discussion, a proposition is stated with little or no evidence attending it, and the mind, in reference to that proposition, is brought into a position, to which we give the name of doubting. It is by no means easy, or rather it is impossible, to trace this idea to the senses. All we can say of it, is, that it has its origin within, and that it necessarily exists immediately subsequent to cer- tain other mental states, of which we are conscious. But then in this very instance, if the evidence be con- siderably increased, the mental estimation, which we form, is altered in regard to it, and to this new state of the mind we give the name of belief or believing. And in case the evidence of the proposition is of a higher and more deci- ded character, there then arises another state of the mind, which we denominate certainty. §. 63. Other instances of thoughts of internal origin, &c. Illustrations of the same nature might be multiplied further, than our limits will allow, and in particular that whole class of mental states, which we call emotions, might be referred to for that purpose. Take, for exam- ple, the emotions, which we express by the terms, aston- ishment, and desire. When we have beheld an object, which gave us great pleasure, but which has subsequently been removed from us, we experience a state of the mind, which we agree in calling desire. The mere perception of the object is an idea, which we evidently possess by means of the senses, but the subsequent feeling, which we have, is to be refer- red to that second great source of our thoughts, which Mr. Locke has termed reflection. Again; when we notice any thing in the scenery of nature, in human ac- tions, or in the divine Providences, which is much out of the common course of events, the mind puts forth that feeling, which we term astonishment. Such is its con- stitution, it is impossible, that it should fail to exer- INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. 87 cise this feeling. But this is not an idea, which can be said to come into the mind through the senses. The ideas of virtue and vice, of justice and injustice, of order, proportion, similitude, truth, wisdom, and many others, have a like origin. It is cheerfully granted, that in determining this point, it is proper to refer to the common experience of mankind, and to rely upon it. But it is believed in all these instan- ces, (certainly in the most of them,) such a reference will be amply decisive. Let it then be left to the candid in- ternal examination of each individual, to determine, Whether a distinction be not rightly drawn between the origin of these ideas, and that of those, which we attri- bute to the senses, such as red, blue, sweet, fragrant, bit- ter, hard, extended, &c. ? On this question, it is thought, that in general there can be but one answer, although some minds of superiour order have from time to time been betrayed into errour on this subject through the love of excessive simplification. Hence it is distinctly to be kept in mind, that there are two sources of our thoughts. An affection of the senses by means of external objects is the occasion of one class of them ; the constitution of the mind and its operations are the occasions or source of the other class. These two classes are sometimes called, in reference to their origin, objective and subjective, and also internal and external. And are still more commonly known, in the phraseology of Mr. Locke, as ideas of sensation and reflection. §. C4. Of certain ideas which are to be referred to both sources. There are, however, certain ideas, which cannot be dis- tinctly traced to either of these sources to the exclusion of the other ; and are, therefore, to be considered as having their origin in both combined. One of these is what we call space; of which there is no one who has not some notion ; and which it would probably be fruitless to at- tempt to make clearer to those, who have any notion of it, from any form of words. This idea presupposes the exis- tence and exercise of our bodily, as well as of our mental 88 INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. powers. We live ; we move from object to object ; we compare together the various subjects of our perceptions ; we extend our thoughts to far removed parts of the uni- verse; and thus there is occasion given for the origin of this deeply grounded, but mysterious thought. Although every body has it, nobody can tell what it is ; and yet we sometimes attempt to give a vague and rather inconsistent description of it. We justly regard it as something, which is neither seen nor touched ; w r e say of it that it is implied in the perception of every external object, but that it is a quality of none ; that it is no where and every where ; that it is illimitable, necessarily existent, and indestructible. Another of this class is the idea of succession. It is not derived from either of the two great sources to the ex- clusion of the other. It is difficult to fix upon any distinct and separate occasion as its origin. It appears in the mind not at once, but gradually, as the result of all we see without, of all we feel within. We see a thousand chan- ges in external objects, the removal of one object, and the supply of its place by another. And thus we form, or rather the unalterable tendencies of our nature, form the notion, which we term succession. But hitherto it is an imperfect one. We then look within ourselves; we are conscious of one state of mind, and another, and another ; and again we have the idea of succession. Thus by com- bining the light, which is thrown from the internal as well as the external source of our knowledge, the .indistinct- ness, which rested upon it, is removed ; and it thenceforth becomes one of the well defined and important elements of our intellectual furniture. A similar account is to be given of various other ideas, such as existence, unity, identity, and power. The latter in particular, on account of its importance as an element of our knowledge, re- quires a separate consideration. §. 65. Origin of our idea of power. The idea of power is sometimes suggested to us from the senses, or what takes place in the external world ; and sometimes from our mental operations or rather from the INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. 89 effects, which we observe to follow certain mental acts. We find, by way of illustrating our meaning, that we are able by a mere volition to move several parts of our bodies, to go from place to place, and to do other things similar. We observe also, that physical bodies, external to ourselves, are able to produce certain effects, one on another, and hence there is suggested to us this idea. But to be more explicit and to illustrate this statement by some instances, let it be observed, that the idea of pow- er connects itself closely with all cases of cause and effect ; and we become furnished with this idea by consulting such instances, whether they involve both mind and matter, or only material existences. A cause is that, which immediately and always, in simi- lar circumstances, is followed by a certain change ; the change being the sequence or effect. For example, fire and the melting of metals may be considered as standing to each other in the relation of cause and effect, or of antecedence and sequence ; but although it be admitted to be true, that we know nothing more than the mere fact that one precedes and the other follows, yet we at once and as it were of necessity have the idea of power. Again, we learn, that the loadstone has the quality of drawing iron, but all we can properly understand from this statement, is, that when the load- stone is made to approach the iron, the iron moves ; still we leave it to any one to say, Whether this be not an oc- casion, on which we have the idea of power ? It is the same in other cases, where material bodies, placed in cer- tain circumstances, are constantly followed by changes in other bodies ; we find every such instance an occasion of that thought or notion, which we term power. But let us in particular reflect a moment on those in- stances, where the antecedent to the effect produced, is mind, is some intellectual operation or existence. We exercise that desire or choice, to which we give the name of volition, and, immediately consequent on that volition, there is a motion of the hand. In the beginning the world was in darkness ; God said. 90 INTERNAL ORIGIN OF THOUGHT. Let there be light, and light was. — The Saviour said, Laza- rus, Come forth, and he arose from the dead. Paul said to the impotent man of Lystra, Stand upright on thy feet, and he leaped and walked. In these cases we have the antecedent and consequent, the volition and the result, the cause and the effect. It seems very clear, that, in all cases when such ante- cedents and sequences are placed before the mind, es- pecially when the antecedent, as in the cases last men- tioned, is intellectual and intelligent, we immediately have the idea of power ; the same as when bodies of a certain colour are placed before us, and we have the idea of white- ness or redness. Nor is the thought which arises under these circumstances, always a faint and indistinct one. When God said, Let there be light and light was ; it is an idea vivid arid overwhelming. But we are perhaps called upon to give a definition or verbal explanation of power. The reply is, that power is a simple and uncompounded perception. It can be resolv- ed into no subordinate elements, and, therefore, stands on the same footing with our other simple notions. It would be as unavailing to attempt to explain it by a mere com- bination of words, as it would to give a verbal definition of the simple perceptions of taste, of hearing, and of sight. But the subject of definitions of simple ideas is. further to be considered in the next chapter. Note. Consult, in reference to this chapter, Stewart's Philosophical Essays, Pt. I., Historical Dissertation of the Same, Pt. II. §. 1., Price's Review of Questions in Mor- als, Ch. I. §. 2, 3., Locke's Essay, Bks, I. II., Brown's Lectures on the Philosophy of the Mind, Lects. vii. xxxiii., Hutcheson's Introduction to Moral Philosophy, Bk. I. ch. i. §. 3, 4., Hobbs' Leviathan, Pt. I. ch. 1., Cud- worth's Intellectual System, Bk. I. ch. 4., Harris' Hermes, Bk. III. ch. 4., also an Anonymous Work, entitled Es- says on the Principles of Morality and Natural Religion. Pt. II. Essay, 4. (2d ed. Lond. 1758,) &.c. CHAPTER SIXTH NATURE AND CLASSIFICATION OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 5. 66. Division of ideas as they are more or less complex. Having considered and classed our ideas according to die occasions of their origin, we are next to consider them in another view, viz, according as they are more or less complex. When we regard them in this point of view, we cannot fail to discover readily a foundation laid for a new arrangement, which is in many respects important. Indeed every classification, which is truly founded in na- ture, is attended with some good results, because among other things it helps us to form an opinion more accu- rately as to the general limits of our knowledge. The classification, which is now proposed to be made, will aid us also in framing an opinion in respect to the charac- ter of the elementary materials, of which that knowledge is composed. In looking at our thoughts, as they continually pass under the review of our internal observation, we find that they are not of equal value. One thought or state of mind is found to be virtually equal to many others. Hence we are led to make a general division of the whole body of our mental affections into two kinds, viz. Simple and Com- plex. Simple ideas are so called, since we know not, that they are in any degree compounded by being made up of other thoughts, or that they can be resolved into any thing more elementary. This class then naturally arrests our attention first, and forms the subject of the present chapter. & NATURE AND CLASSIFICATION §. 67 Manner of determining what are simple ideas. But an inquiry may be proposed here. In what way are we to determine, whether an idea be simple or complex ? How do we know, that one state of mind is composed of, or is virtually equivalent to two or more other states of mind, and that this is not the fact in other instances ? In reference to this reasonable inquiry, we lay down the im- portant principle, that no simple idea is susceptible of DEFINITION. There is probably no principle in Intellectual Philoso- phy better settled than this. And consequently when it is found after proper examination, that an idea cannot be resolved into others, that it cannot be denned, that it cannot be made clearer by any statement in words, the presumption is, that it is simple. The only way, in which a simple idea can be made clearer by means of words, is, not by a professed definition, but by a mere statement of the circumstances, as far as possible, under which it exists. And this we have sometimes done, but nothing further. If, therefore, any should complain of want of clearness, and profess not to understand what is meant by the terms, extension, solidity, heat, cold, red, blue, sweet, unity, pow- er, or other names of simple ideas, we know not, that any thing can be done to clear up that mental obscurity, under which they labour, but merely to refer them to their own senses, to their own personal experience, as the only in- structed from whom they will be likely to receive any tolerable satisfaction. §. G8. Futility of the definitions of the Schools. It is a well known and very serious mistake of the Schoolmen, that they undertook to give a definition of ideas of this kind. This course evidently tended to disturb and weaken the foundations of all reasoning and knowledge. The folly of it probably cannot be more strikingly shown, than by referring to some instances, which are to be found in their writings. Among numerous other abortive at- tempts of this sort, they have given us a definition of motion, which is usually and justly classed as one of our simple 6F SIMPLE IDEAS. m states of the mind. It was defined by the Schoolmen ACTUS ENTIS IN POTENTIA QJTATENUS IN POTENTIA, the act of a being in power as far forth as in power. This, instead of making our idea of motion clearer than it was before, is altogether unintelligible. At a later period it has also been defined a passage from one place to another. To this definition there is this objection, that passage is synonymous with motion, and that it amounts to no more than to say, that motion is motion from one place to an- other. Every person is supposed to understand the meaning of the word, light. The Schoolmen, in order to render what was already perfectly well understood, more clear and easy to the comprehension of people, defined it the act of perspicuous as far forth as perspicuous. This defi- nition is equally futile with either of the foregoing. If it should be stated to a blind man, who had never possess- ed the faculty of sight, it is very evident, that he would derive no information from it. These instances among numerous others show the fol- ly of such attempts ; sufficiently evincing that they will tend to perplex rather than advance knowledge. They teach the mind to look inward upon itself, and to rest sat- isfied with its own experiences. §. 69. From the nature of the case some ideas must be unsusceptible of definition. And indeed the very nature of defining will of itself hardly fail to suggest, that there are limits, beyond which it is utterly inapplicable ; and which, therefore, ought not to have been disregarded. But what is to be under- stood by defining ? Certainly not the mere use of synony- mous words, although this has often been called by that name. It is expected in defining, and is implied in the meaning of the term itself, that the subject will be made clearer by it, but this is not ordinarily done by the use of synonymous expressions. In every legitimate definition, the idea, which is to be defined, is to be separated, as far as may be thought necessary, into its subordinate, parts ; and these parts 13 VA NATURE AND CLASSIFICATION are to be presented to the mind for its examination in- stead of the original notion, into which they entered. This process must be gone through in every instance of accurate defining ; and it is not easy to see, in what else it can well consist. It is true, that we employ a variety of words, (not sy- nonymous words,) in every such case ; but these of course are merely the representatives of ideas. If, therefore, we define ideas by employing other ideas, we must count up- on meeting at last with such as shall be ultimate, and will reject all verbal explanation. We shall not fail in the end to find some, which it will be impossible to separate into subordinate parts. It will accordingly be impossible to aid the mind by bringing up other ideas, which shall be in the least clearer than those, which are proposed to be defined. These last will be among those early forma- tions of thought, which do not stand in need of the assist- ance of words, inasmuch as they are the offspring of na- ture herself. And it is such ideas we distinguish by calling them simple. §. 70. Division of our simple ideas. Mr. Locke, having reference to the mode, in which our simple ideas are received into the mind, has divided them into the four following classes ; (1) Those, which are received by one sense merely; (2) Those, which are received from more than one sense ; (3) Those, which are received from reflection or the observation of what takes place in our minds ; (4) Those, which are received by reflection, and come into the mind also at other times, in various ways, by the senses ; or which in some instances are received by sen- sation and reflection combined, and not separately, as in some occasions of the origin of the simple idea of power. And this seems to be the most natural division, which can be made, and, therefore, is very well fitted to help us keep in memory the history of our early notions. OF SIMPLE IDEAS. M §. 71. Of simple ideas from one sense only. To the class of simple ideas received from one sense only, belong the varieties of colour, such as red, white, yellow, green, &c, which are received by the sense of sight. To this class also belong all the varieties of sound, which are received bv the sense of hearing ; also the di- versities of taste, received from the sense of taste. The ideas of the sense of hearing do not belong to the sense of sight, nor those of sight to the sense of hearing ; and this is so obvious, that it is needless to attempt to prove, how clearly the origin of the one is distinguished from that of the other set of ideas. It mav be remarked here, that not all our simple ideas, which have their origin in the senses, have names. Only the prominent distinctions are thus marked, while there are many diversities in the sensations of touch, taste, vis- ion, and of the other senses, which are not. §. 72. Of simple ideas from more than one sense. There are other simple ideas, such as extension, fig- ure, and motion, which are to be considered, according to this classification, as derived from more than one sense ; viz., from the senses of touch and sight. We perceive the extension of a body originally by the touch, but subse- quently, when experience has given to the sense of sight its full power, are informed of it by the sight also. Al- though we here refer it to two of the senses, it is not to be forgotten, that it is with one merely an acquired, and with the other an original perception. The sight acquires the power of estimating extension at so early a period that, for all practical purposes, it is much the same, as if it were original ; and hence it seems not improper to re- tain the common arrangement, which refers it to more than one sense. Similar remarks apply to figure and motion. As soon as we have learnt what significahcy to attach to <>ur visual perceptions, a subject, which was remarked upon in the fourth chapteitywe have an idea of a statue by ihc sight n nd at once perceive, that it possesses form or $« NATURE AND CLASSIFICATION figure ; but the blind man, who has not the power of see- ing, learns its figure no less accurately by the sense of touch merely. When a solid body is moving with any considerable degree of rapidity from under our hands, such is the nature of the sensation produced, that we are immediately satis- fied, that this body is changing its position. And we are equally satisfied of this, whether our eyes be open or shut. That is to say ; the sensation, which is then caused in the organ of touch, is of such a nature, that it becomes an occasion, on which that simple thought or idea, which we call motion, arises in the mind. In another case, for in- stance, when we see a boat putting off from a ship, we perceive the change of position, or motion, exclusively by the sight, the sense of touch being unaffected. That is ; the different affections of the organ of sight become the occasions of this thought. §. 73. Of simple ideas from reflection. By the term, reflection, seems to be properly under- stood the observation of the operations of our own minds, as they are employed about the ideas, which they have gotten. It is, therefore, nothing more nor less than con- sciousness. Some of the simple ideas, which we re- ceive from this source, are these, thinking, doubting, be- lieving, and assenting, or certainty ; which have already been briefly explained. They are rightly classed as simple ideas, since they are merely simple perceptions, and are no more compounded and can be no more resol- ved into any subordinate elements, than our perceptions of colour or taste. And it has also sufficiently appeared, that they have an internal origin, and that they are not di- rectly from the senses. §. 74 . Of simple ideas from both of the above mentioned sources. There are certain simple ideas, which are received both by reflection and also by means of the senses, and some- times from both of them combined ; and such are the ideas of space, succession, and power. Upon these ideas every thing has been already said, which was thought OF SIMPLE IDEAH. W necessary. There are various others which are analo- gous in their origin. §. 75. Of the ideas of existence and unity. Existence is one of the ideas of this class. It is out of our power to define this idea, as it is all other simple ideas, but it is clearly suggested to us by every external object, which we behold. Our minds also can never have ideas, or what is the same thing, be in successive states, without an attendant impression, that those ideas or men- tal states actually and truly exist. The idea, expressed by the word units, is suggested by whatever, whether internal or external, can be consid- ered as distinct and separate from any other object, about which the mind is employed. Hence, as our ideas may be regarded in this way as well as outward objects, units is properly considered one of those notions, which may be referred both to the senses and to reflection. Or the statement to the same effect may be thus given. We per- ceive an external object ; soon after we perceive another ; and as we know the first perceived object is not the second, this gives occasion for the idea of unity or oneness. Again ; we are conscious of one state of mind ; immedi- ately after we are conscious of another ; and thus a simi- lar occasion is presented for the origin of the same thought. And this seems to be the most that can be said concerning it. §. 76. Of ideas by means of the senses which are not strictly external. In connexion with these remarks on the subject of sim- ple ideas, it is proper to observe, that these are some of our simple notions, which can hardly be considered, as answering to the statements, which have hitherto been given. The ideas to which we refer, which are not many in number, would be classed as external rather than inter- nal, as having a material rather than an intellectual origin. But then they are to be considered somewhat in the light of exceptions to our general statements, because they ap- pear to have their origin in the human system considered as a whole, made up of bones, flesh, muscles, the senses, 98 NJtTURJE AND CLASSIFICATION &c, rather than to be susceptible of being traced to any particular part. The ideas, expressed by the terms, unea- siness, weariness, weakness, sickness, and the like, which every body understands, and which without doubt belong to the class of simple ideas, are of this kind. The same origin is to be ascribed to other ideas, which are of an opposite character, as ease, hilarity, health, vigour, &c. Similar views will be found to apply to the ideas, which we express by the terms, hunger, and thirst. These, as well as the above mentioned, beyond doubt, have their ori- gin directly in the bodily system ; they are not of the reflex, or subjective class ; and it is equally evident, that they are not the appropriate ideas of any one of the senses, although it is undoubtedly with our notions from this last source that they have the best claims to be reckoned. Indeed some have confounded the sensations, connected with the stomach, especially that of hunger, with our tactual feel- ings. But there is a great difference. Every one must be conscious, that the feeling of hunger does not resemble the sensations of hardness or softness, or other sensations, which are usually ascribed to the touch. The physical cause of the sensation of hunger, that is, the cause of that peculiar state of the nerves of the stomach, which is found to be antecedent to the painful feeling, has been a subject of difference of opinion, and is not well understood. §. 77. Of the evidence in favour of this account of the origin of our ideas. It appeared in a preceding section, that no positive proof could be brought in confirmation of the once preva- lent doctrine of innate ideas, and it is natural to inquire, What direct and positive evidence is there in favour of the account, which has now been given of the origin of our early thoughts? What evidence is there, that our knowledge is acquired and not original ; that it is to be traced, partly to the mind, und partly to the senses, the latter having the priority in point of time ? In answer to this inquiry let it be observed, in the first place, that the statement, which has been made on this subject, recommends itself to the common experience, to OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 99 what every individual can testify, to a greater or less de- gree, in regard to himself. Our ideas at first are few in number ; they are suggested by the objects, by which we are immediately surrounded ; the greater number are at firsf from the senses or are forced upon us by our imme- diate wants, and a very small proportion only are internal or abstract. But we find, as we advance in years, as we become more and more acquainted with facts in the nat- ural world, and have more acquaintance with our fellow men, our ideas multiply both from within and without ; our views are more extensive; and we no more arrive at once at the full stature of knowledge, than we advance without any intermediate growth from infancy to man- hood. This is the general experience, the testimony, which each one can give for himself. If, in the second place, having ourselves come to some degree of mental capacity and information, we ob- serve the progress of the mind in infancy and early youth in others, we shall find, as far as we are able to judge from the facts coming within our observation, the same process going on in them, which our consciousness of our own mental history enables us to testify with no little confi- dence in our own case. To the infant its nursery is the world. Its first ideas of the human race are its particular conceptions of its nurse and mother ; and the origin and history of all its no- tions may be traced to its animal wants, to the light, that breaks in from its window, and to the few objects in the im- mediate neighbourhood of the cradle and hearth. But there are other sources of information, other foun- tains of thought, when it has become only a few years of age. The child then learns the topography of his native village ; he has explored the margin of its river ; he has ascended its flowering hills. His mind is full of activity. New and exalting views crowd upon his consciousness. He beholds ; he compares ; he wonders ; he is delighted ; he reasons. And thus knowledge is increased. In the third place, the history of languages is a strong proof of the correctness of that account, which has* been HO NATURE AND CLASSIFICATION given, of the progress of the mind. At first words are few, corresponding to ideas. The vocabulary of Savage tribes, (those for example, who inhabit the American con- tinent,) is in general exceedingly limited. As knowl- edge increases, language widens itself, in order to cones- pond to the growth of knowledge. The use of words lit- erally to express external things, and afterwards metaphori- cally to express thoughts of an internal origin, is what might be expected from the statement made, viz, That our in- ternal knowledge is subsequent in its origin to that, which is derived from the senses. Trace the words of any language to their source, and it will be found almost uni- versally true, that words are first used in reference to sen- sible objects, and they will, therefore, vary with scenery, climate, and natural productions. Among the Boschuanas in South Africa, the word, pulo, which literally signifies rain, is the only term they have to express a blessing, or blessings. And why ? Because among them it very seldom rains ; sometimes not for years. A clouded sky, sending down refreshing drops, excites in the mind of the Boschuana the most impressive picture of happiness. But in any other country, where this peculiarity in climate does not exist, the origin of this idea will be found to be different. And, in the fourth place, it is not too much to say. that all the observations, which have been made on per- sons, who from their birth, or at any subsequent period, have been deprived of any of the senses, and all tlse ex- traordinary facts, which have come to knowledge, having a bearing on this inquiry, go strongly in favour of the views which have been given. It appears, for instance, from the observations, which have been made in regard to persons, who have been deaf until a particular period, and then have been restored to the faculty of hearing, that they have never previously had those ideas, which naturally come in by that sense. If a person has been born blind, the result is the same ; or if having the sense of sight, it has so happened, that he has never seen any colours of a particular description. In the one case, he OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 101 hfti no ideas of colours at all, and in the other, only of those colours, which he has seen. Of those extraordinary instances, to which we alluded, as having thrown some light on the history of our intel- lectual acquisitions, is the account, which is given in the Memoirs of the French Academy of Sciences for the year 170.3, of a deaf and dumb young man in the city of Char- tres. At the age of three and twenty, it so happened, to the great surprise of the whole town, that he was sudden- ly restored to the sense of hearing, and in a short time he acquired the use of language. Deprived for so long a pe- riod of a sense, which in importance ranks with the sight and the touch, unable to hold communion with his fellow beings by means of oral or written language, and not par- ticularly compelled, as he had every care taken of him by his friends and relations, to bring his faculties into ex- ercise, the powers of his mind remained without having opportunity to unfold themselves. Being examined by some men of discernment, it was found that he had no idea of a God, of a soul, of the moral merit or demerit of human actions, and what might seem to be yet more re- markable, he knew not what it was to die; the agonies of dissolution, the grief of friends, and the ceremonies of in- terment being to him inexplicable mysteries. Here we see how much knowledge a person was deprived of, merely by his wanting the single sense of hearing ; a proof that the senses were designed by our Creator to be the first source of knowledge, and that without them the fac- ulties of the soul would never become operative. But this is not the only instance of this sort, which in- genious men have noticed and recorded. In the Trans- actions of the Royal Society at Edinburgh, (Vol. vii. Pt. 1.,) is a Memoir communicated by Dugald Stewart, which gives an account of James Mitchell, a boy born deaf and blind. The history of this lad, who laboured un- der the uncommon affliction of this double deprivation. illus- trates and confirms all, that has been above stated. He made what use he could of the only senses which he pos- sessed, thnse of touch, taste, and smell, and gained from 11 102 NATURE Sic. OF SIMPLE IDEAS. them a number of ideas. It was a proof of the diligence, with which he employed the limited means, which were given him, that he had by the sense of touch thoroughly explor- ed the ground in the neighbourhood of the house, where he lived, for hundreds of yards. But deprived of sight, of hearing, and of intercourse by speech, it was very evi- dent to those, who observed him, as might be expected, that his knowledge was in amount exceedingly small. He was destitute of those perceptions, which are appropriate to the particular senses, of which he was deprived ; and also of many other notions of an internal origin, which would undoubtedly have arisen, if the powers of the mind had previously been rendered fully operative by means of those assistances, which it usually receives from the bodi- ly organs. Such instances as these, however they may at first appear, are extremely important. They furnish us with an appeal, not to mere speculations, but to fact. And it is only by checking undue speculation, and by continually recurring to facts, that our progress in this science will become sure, rapid, and delightful. Note. The statements concerning the young man of Chartres are particularly examined in Condillac's Essay on the Origin of Knowledge at Section fourth of Part first. The interesting Memoir of Stewart has recently been re- published in the third volume of his Elements of In- tellectual Philosophy. It may be observed here also, that the principle laid down in this chapter in respect to the definition of simple ideas, is first fully stated and defend- ed by Des Cartes, (Principia, Pt. I, §. 10.;) and subse- quently by Locke, Bk. III. ch. 4. The doctrine, that some mental states are lrom their very nature unsuscepti- ble of verbal explanation, has been admitted without ex- ception by recent writers on the science of the Mind. CHAPTER SEVENTH. COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. §. 73. Of the relation of simple ideas to complex. TV e next examine complex ideas. But before enter- ing fully into that subject, something remains to be said of the relation, which simple ideas hold to them. When we say of any one of our thoughts, that it is complex, the epithet itself implies, that it is virtually equal to various other thoughts of a more elementary character, which we call simple. But it is evident both from the nature of the mind, and from the relation of the external senses to it, that simple ideas, (when compared in that respect with complex,) are earliest in origin. A very little reflection evinces this. Thus we cannot have the complex idea of justice without previously having had various others, which are less susceptible of analysis, and which imply in their for- mation a fewer number of parts. Again, when we ascribe to any particular external object a variety of elementary characteristics, and speak of it as extended, hard, colour- ed, sapid, sonorous, and the like, these elements undoubt- < dlv, as they were first made known to the mind, must have been separate and simple, because they came in by separate senses. Hence we see, that it is sufficiently near the truth, and that it is not improper to speak of our complex ideas, as derived from, or made up of simple ideas. This is the language of Locke : and when we consider how much foundation there is for it in the constitution and operations 104 COMPLEX IDEAS OP SUBSTANCES. of the human mind, there is good reason for retaining it. It is true, the language, which expresses the composition and decomposition of thought is, metaphorical, taken from what we notice to take place in material objects, but it cannot be supposed, that this will lead any one astray, who has reflected on the origin of language, and especially who turns his eye inwardly on his own internal experience. The view, which has now been given of the virtual composition of thought, justifies the expressions, which are used in respect to the power, which we possess over our simple ideas. We are rightly said to possess a power over them, although it is a limited one. We possess no ability to annul or destroy these, or any other class of our notions, by mere direct volition ; nor does it appear, that we are a- ble in that wa^to call up an idea, or to detain one, which we already have, and make it an object of contemplation to the entire exclusion of others. Or if we possess this last power at all, it is only in an imperfect degree. But we have the power, (1,) Of comparing together ideas of all classes in various respects, such as extent, order, degree, time, place. The mind has a susceptibility of perceiving the agreement or disagreement of its thoughts in these particulars. We have the power, (2,) Of combining or compounding; "by means of which we form what are termed complex ideas out of two or more simple ones variously put together. That is ; such combinations are the natural and inevitable result of those mental susceptibilities, which we possess. The mind, in the natural workings of its tendencies, can- not fail to possess complex ideas, which sustain to simple ideas a relation, analogous to that of a whole to its parts ; in other words, it has power to form them. §. 79. Division of complex ideas into three kinds. Those ideas, which are purely simple, are few in num- ber. Out of this small number are formed multitudes of others, which are of a complex nature. The ability, which the mind possesses, of originating complex thoughts from elementary ones, may be compared to our power of uniting together the letters of the alphabet in the formation of COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 105 words, which arc of themselves few in number, but lay the foundation of almost innumerable combinations. Complex ideas are divided into three kinds, substan- ces, modes, and relations. Ideas of substance embrace all things of whatever char- acter, which have a separate and real existence. The complex thoughts, called modes, do not stand for separate existences, but are expressive of the attributes, affections, or modifications of things. The class of relations includes those ideas, which have their origin by means of the com- parison of one object with another. It would seem, therefore, from the meaning attached to these terms, that this classification, when taken in its full extent, includes all those thoughts of a complex kind, which we are able to form. ^ §. 80. Complex ideas of substances. Ideas of substance relate, in the first place, to bodies of matter. Material bodies are made up of a number of smaller bodies or particles. But all bodies of matter, whatever may be their capability of a separation into parts, possess a oneness or unity, relatively to our concep- tions of them. In other words, our understandings are so formed as t-> view material things as one, which we sup- pose and know to be capable of a separation into parts. In that combined state, in which they are presented to our conception, they exhibit certain qualities, as exten- sion, solidity, colour ; meaning by the term, colour, the power of separating and reflecting rays of light. It is these qualities we first become acquainted with ; and ex- clusive of them, there is nothing, which we can consider the direct subjects of our sensations. By means of its qualities, we do indeed have an indirect idea or notion of matter, and learn that it exists. But we cannot from these alone, nor in any other way, learn what it is in itself. The sentiment here conveyed may be expressed in other terms by saying, that our knowledge of matter is limited to the knowledge of its qualities and properties. The essence, or what the Schoolmen w r ould call the sub- JUG COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. stratum, of material things is beyond our comprehension. Hence an idea of substance, (speaking now of materi- al existences,) is that complex state of the mind, which considers a number of qualities, belonging to any particu- lar substance as one, or as naturally and permanently uni- ted. Instances are the complex ideas, expressed by the words, sun, loadstone, man, horse, iron, tree, indeed all those intellectual states, which correspond to that great variety of separate, material objects, which continu- ally come beneath our inspection. In the idea of man we have, among others, the simple ideas of figure, colour, motion, conscience. f. 81. Spiritual existences included under thio class. But ideas of substance are not to be limited to mate- rial objects. Under this class is to be included, in the second place, our ideas of immaterial existences, of the mind, of the soul in its disembodied state, of angels, of God himself.* It is true, they are not substances in the ordinary mean- ing of the term, that is, they are not material substances, like the sensible objects, with which we are so much con- versant, and to which we almost exclusively apply that name. But they are substances in this sense, — they are real and not imaginary, — they have an existence, — they are not the mere relations of one thing to another, not the mere dependencies on them, but the things themselves. But some will doubt, whether we have that clear knowledge of mind and of spiritual things in general, which we have of material bodies ; and on this ground think, *The term substance, from the Latin substantia, was applied first to material objects. An idea, originally derived from matter, and applied to matter exclusively, was subsequently extended to things immaterial. With this more extended meaning, it is employed hy Des Cartes. From him it was adopted into the philosophy of Locke with the same extent of meaning, viz., as synonymous with being or existence. And it is now difficult, although the common and popular acceptation of the term is more limited, to introduce anoth- er in its stead. Nor will it be essentia], provided its meaning, as it' i« here applied, be accurately kept in mind. COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 107 that they ought not to be included in the same division of our complex notions. — This is a point, worthy a mo- ment's notice. §. 82. Our knowledge of spirit the same as of matter. Although it may appear strange to some, when we say. that we know no more of matter, about which we are daily conversant, and which we see and touch, than concerning mental or spiritual existences, which our bodily senses are unable to approach and examine, it is a sentiment at last almost universally received, and with the very best reason. It has already been remarked of matter, that we know nothing concerning it but by its qualities and properties, and we know nothing of immaterial existences likewise, ex- cept in the same way ; and our knowledge, therefore, is in both cases on the same footing, being the same in kind at least, if not in degree. Our acquaintance with the prop- erties of material bodies may possibly go further than our acquaintance with those of mind, but it is in both cases circumscribed by the same kind of limitation, unable to advance beyond those properties. Observing certain mental operations, thinking, remem- bering, willing, assenting, doubting, and the like, we can- not avoid the conviction of the existence of something, to which they belong, or of which they are qualities ; and we call it spirit or a spiritual being. The same of matter ; — we learn its qualities, primary and secondary, colour, extension, figure, motion, divisibili- ty, &c; and these, viewed by the mind in their state of combination or as having a common and coetaneous ori- gin, give us the idea, which we call by that name. If it be asked, how it happens, that we so uniformly refer these operations and qualities to what we term mat- ter and spirit, or rather how they are so promptly suggest- ed on the observation of their properties, (there being an universal belief in the existence of the material and im- material world,) the only answer is, that we are thus constitu- ted. We are under a sort of necessity, in consequence of the natural tendencies of our constitution, of connecting 108 COMPLEX IDEAS OP SUBSTANCES. With the appearances, which we witness, the idea of a re- ally existing something, which we call, either matter or mind, material or spiritual, according to the character of those appearances. But when this idea is once suggested, we are taught by the inutility of our efforts to proceed further, that we have reached one boundary of our knowledge, which we cannot pass ; and that while we have an idea of mat- ter and spirit, and cannot but believe in their existence, we know no more of them, nor shall we probably ever know more, than those appearances and operations, what- ever they may be, which they shall exhibit. §. 83. Of cohesion of bodies and motion by impulse. If there be any, who, after what has been said, think they understand matter better than they do spirit, then would we desire them to give an explanation of what that is in matter, which is termed cohesion. That the particles of gold, of iron, of water, and of other material bodies are held together by what is termed cohesion, is a fact, which, being within our daily observation, no one is inclined to doubt, but it is the fact only which we know, and nothing more. One body impinging on another puts it in motion, and we term it motion by impulse. But how motion passes from one body to another, when the particles of those bodies come in contact, if indeed there can be any actual contact, is by no means so easy to be determined. It will be found as difficult to be understood and explained as any of those obstacles, which are supposed to stand in the way of a full knowledge of spiritual existences. Some further illustrations of this subject in particular instances remain to be made. §. 84. Explanations on certain ideas of this class. If called upon to give an account of the loadstone, which is the name of one of the many ideas of substance, we could give no other answer than by an enumeration of COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 109 its qualities, something, which has colour, iiardness, fria- bility, power to draw iron. The sun has been mentioned, as one among the complex ideas of substances, but little more do we know of it than this, that it is an aggregate of certain qualities or simple ideas, such as brightness, heat, roundness, regularity of motion. We say of gold, that it is a combination of the quali- ties of yellowness, great weight, fusibility, ductility. &C, existing together, and forming the material substance, to which we give that name. §. 85 Remarks on complexity in the states of the mind. It would seem from the statement thus far given in re- gard to our ideas of substance, that there is* in this class of our thoughts a complexity in the state of the mind, cor- responding to the complexity in the object, and without this complexity, in all cases, of the intellectual principle, there cannot be what is termed a complex idea. But it is not to be thought, that we arrive at this ultimate com- plexity of mental state by a single act, by an undivided and inseparable movement of the mind, although, such is the rapidity of the process, it may in some cases seem to be so. On the contrary, every simple idea, involved in, and forming a part of the compound, so far as we have any distinct conception of the compounded idea, passes under a rapid review, and the complex state of the mind or complex idea is the result of this rapid review. We have already hinted in a former section, that tin; nature of the mind itself, and in particular its connection with the senses, imply the existence of simple ideas be- fore the possibility of a formation of those, which are complex. We cannot, for instance, have a complex idea of man, of iron, or of a tree, without having first, at some time, subjected each simple idea, of which it is made up, to a separate examination. This glance of the mind at the various simple ideas is performed indeed with such extreme quickness, at leasi generally so, that the snccessiTe steps of it are not 110 COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. recollected ; but this, when we consider the rapidity of the mind's operations in other instances, is no sufficient objection to the statement, which has been made. The process in the formation of complex ideas goes on from step to step, from one simple idea to another, but when the examination is completed, the ultimate state of the mind, which the completion of the process implies, is not to be considered as in any degree wanting in unity or oneness. It is, in itself considered, as much one and in- divisible as any of those states of mind, which we know to be simple. §. 86. Connection existing between material substances to be considered. In forming our complex ideas of substances, it is highly important, that they should be conformed, as nearly as possible, to the real nature of things ; and that we should not combine in the idea any thing, which is not in the substance. And in order to this, it should be remember- ed, that bodies are operated upon, one by another, and ex- hibit to us different qualities, in consequence of this ope- ration. One of the qualities of gold is yellowness, but break off entirely the intercourse between the particles of gold and the rays of light, and yellowness ceases. Life and motion are ideas, which commonly enter into our complex notion of animals; but deprive them of air, and life and motion are gone. We would not say, that, in these particular instances, in our complex notions of gold and of animal, these ideas, yellowness, life, and motion, are to be struck out. We use them merely as an illustration, that, in making up our complex notion of any substances, we are to consider not only the objects themselves, but also to take into view other objects, which have an influence on them. §. 87. Of chimerical ideas of substances. There are certain ideas, the consideration of which properly falls in this chapter, termed chimerical ; the idea?* COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 11 J tor example, which are expressed by the words, centaur, dragon, hypogrift", harpy. The centaur is represented, as an animal, partly man, and partly horse. The dragon is supposed to be an im- mense serpent, furnished with wings, and capable of mak- ing its way through the atmosphere by their aid. The hypogriif is an imaginary horse, capable of performing aerial journeys in the same way. Ideas of this kind are termed chimerical, because there is nothing corresponding to them in nature. There is no reality of the sort intimated by the term. If a person were known to have an idea of a body, yellow or of some other colour, malleable, fixed, possess- ing in a word all the qualities of iron or of gold with this difference only, of its being lighter than water, it would be what we term a chimerical idea. That is ; it would have nothing corresponding to it in the nature of things. §. 88. Of what is meant by real ideas. Real ideas are the opposite of chimerical, having a correspondence with the nature of things, or being such ideas as things in their true nature are fitted to produce. Hence simple ideas are real, because there can be no simple idea, except it be such as nature in some of its forms, either external or internal, is fitted to cause within us. Also those mental states, called simple modes, which are to be considered in the next chapter, are real, because they are only the multiplications or repetitions of some simple idea. Excepting such chimerical ideas, as were mentioned in the preceding section, viz. dragon, centaur, faery, harpy, hypogriff, ghost, hobgoblin, iron lighter than water, &c. all ideas of substance are real. But when we speak of ideas of substance, with such exceptions as above, being real, we do not mean to say, that they do perfectly and in all respects represent their corresponding objects. In our complex idea of gold, we combine the simple ideas of yellowness, weight, malleability, and perhaps oth- ers, but probably none combine, in their conception of it. JiiJ COMPLEX IDEAS OP SUBSTANCES. nil its properties ; so that, although we speak of it, as a real, we do not speak of it, as a perfect or adequate idea. The same of other instances. Further, it may be incidentally remarked, that what are termed chimerical ideas are formed in times of ignor- ance and superstition, when the human mind is unable to frame just notions of things. But combinations of thought of this kind, although they are probably to be found in all languages, are in general few in number. §. 89. Importance of having real ideas. Ideas are the elements or materials, about which the mind is employed in its various operations, and without which there can be neither faith, reasoning, nor knowl- edge. It is true, that those ideas, which we call chimer- ical, and of which there are no archetypes in nature, admit of being compared together. We may examine, combine, and compare them the same as any other notions, which we are able to form But most evidently the investigation of such fantastical thoughts will be unprofitable, and will render us none the wiser. It is the same here as in other things. We do not ac- count a man rich, whose coffers are filled with hay, wood, and stubble, instead of the precious metals. Nor can in- tellectual opulence be conferred by ideas, which are not founded on the truth of nature. Every person, therefore, is not to be considered well furnished, who has a great number of ideas, merely from the circumstance of the greatness of their number ; but their character in various respects, their objects, and their conformity to those ob- jects, are to be taken into consideration. §. 90. Of our ideas of angels. We have our knowledge of mind in the same way as of matter, that is, by an observation of its qualities. And we are led from the accounts given of celestial messengers, to conceive of that class of beings, to which the term, an- gels, is applied, as if there were some resemblance or anal- ogy, existing between our minds and them \ in other words, COMPLEX IDEAS OP SUBSTANCES. IK! we regard them, as beings which are spiritual or immaterial. But we do not speak of them, as to their nature and powers, with the same degree of confidence, with which we speak of the human mind and of matter, since they are a class of beings, not coming under the examination of the senses, neither are they to be examined by us in the way, in which we can form an acquaintance with our own intel- lectual part. For our knowledge, therefore, of angels and of any other class of beings superiour to ourselves but subordinate to the Deity, we must rest satisfied with what information is given us in the Holy Scriptures. §. 91. Origin of the idea of God. Among the complex ideas, included under this class, is to be mentioned in particular that of God. The origin of the idea of the Supreme Being, (supposing it with Mr. Locke not to be innate or connatural in the mind,; seems to be naturally accounted for in this way. We suppose a person entirely separated from the rest of the world, dwelling in some distant island, and fur- nished, as it were, only with the senses, and with the va- riety of objects around him, fitted to operate upon them. He will, in the first place, connect together certain .things, as antecedents and consequents, or what is the same thing, as causes and effects, such as the waving of woods and the blowing of the wind, the wearing away of the shore and the motion of the waves against it. Having in this way formed an idea of antecedent and consequent, it will be found, in the second place, that the thought will ultimately arise in his mind, that those ap- pearances in nature, which he has been in the habit of re- garding as antecedents or causes, should themselves have a cause ; that while the tempest breaks down in his own sight the forest, there should, and must be some one to guide the storm, and while the shore crumbles beneath the incursions of the ocean, there must be something, though where or what it is, he cannot tell, which both pushes on and restrains its raging. 114 COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. The idea at iirst, it must be admitted, is an obscure one, but it in time becomes less so ; for nothing can be more true than the assertion of the Psalmist, that, in refer- ence to the glory of God, " Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge." We remarked in regard to the great first Cause, which the natural workings of soul in our solitary islander will sooner or later inevitably discover, that he is unable to say, where or what it is ; and this inability becomes in the end a favourable circumstance. He cannot say of that first Cause, that it is in the stars, or in the ocean, or in the wild waste of the wilderness, but conscious of this inability to discover it in any particular place, he learns to identify it not with one merely, but with every " local habitation," and to associate it with all unmeasured space, and although he can in one sense say, it is no where, he can, in another, say, God is every ivhere. Note. It is a thought, which can reach and influence the minds of all classes of people, that the works of nature lead us up to God. This is not human philosophy merely, but of the Bible itself. " The invisible things of God, (Rom. i. 20,) from the creation of the world are clearly seen." Hence all other modes of argument have either failed to be understood; or when understood, have not carried gen- eral conviction. This we apprehend to be true even of Dr. Clarke's (eo called) demonstration. His argument in a few words may be thus given. (1) The human mind is so constituted, (which is no doubt the fact,) that it necessarily forms the ideas of space and do- ration. (2) We do not conceive of these, as having boundaries, but as illimitable. (3) But space and duration are not substances, or independent existences, but the attributes of things. (4) There- fore, there must be a Being to whom they belong, or of whom they may be predicated, and whose existence, consequently, surpasses the limits of all time and place. It is chiefly in the two last steps, that the understanding is bewildered, and that we choose after much painful reflection to read with the Apostle and the Psalmist the excel- lency of God in his handy-works. CHAPTER EIGHTH* SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. §. 92. Meaning of modes and classes of them. JL he second great class of our complex states of mind tire known in the Essay of Locke, and also in many other treatises, under the name of Modes. The thoughts, which are designated by this name, stand for those things, which are supposed not to exist independently by themselves, but are rather the dependencies on, the attributes, or the af- fections of substances, such as are expressed by the words honour, gratitude, treachery, credulity, and also by the names of numbers and of mathematical figures, as dozen, twenty, square, parallelogram. On this class or division of our complex notions we are now to remark ; and shall consider them under t\v<» heads, viz., simple modes and mixed modes. §• 93. Of complex ideas called simple modes. Simple Modes are complex ideas made up of those simple ideas which are all of the same kind ; in other words, they are merely different modifications of the same, original thought, carried on to a greater or less extent, but without any intermixture of foreign materials. Of this class of ideas are a dozen, a score, a thousand, which are simple modes formed by the repeated addition of units as far on as the collections specified by those jnames. To this class belong ideas of time, ns an hour, a clav. ;» lit; SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. month, a year, and also ideas of extension in length, as a furlong, a mile, a league. §. 94. Of simple modes from number. The idea of unity is derived in some instances from the senses. That is to say, it is always suggested to the mind, whenever we find ourselves able to consider any ex- ternal object, as distinct and separate from other objects. The consciousness also, Which we cannot avoid, that the mind has different ideas or is in different states, and that, consequently, there is a real line of distinction between each succeeding state and that, which went before, gives us the same notion of unity or oneness. So that it is an idea, which we become possessed of, both by means of the senses, and from reflection ; but it is a simple idea, as we cannot resolve it into any thing more elementary. What are termed the simple modes of number, are- formed by the repeating or addition of the original idea, and it is worthy of remark, that there is the utmost distinct- ness, a marked line of separation between each mode. The numbers, one, two, and three, are as distinct and sep- arate from each other, as one hundred and two hundred. Names are necessary to numbers. We repeat the idea of an unit, and this repetition or addition becomes a col- lective idea, to which we give the name of two. To the collective or complex idea, which arises on the addition of another unit, we give the name of three ; all enumeration being only the addition of units with the giving of names to the collective ideas thus formed. As diversities in num- bers are only differences of more or less, and are not dis- tinguished from each other by size or colour, or in other ways, but only by addition and subtraction, there seems to be the more need of names. If it should be admitted to be possible, that we may have simple modes of number without giving names, it is very evident, that without, names we could not employ them in enumeration ; so that they would in that case be entirely useless. We find, that many uncivilized tribes of Savages are unable to carry enumeration to any great extent, not be- SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 117 cause their minds are naturally incapable of this operation, but in consequence of the scanty materials of their lan- guages. Mr. Locke mentions a Brazilian tribe, called the Tououpinambos, who had no names for numbers above five; any number beyond that they made out by showing their fingers and the fingers of those, who were present. When Savages wish to express a very large number, they remind us of the leaves on the trees, the stars in the sky, and the sands on the sea-shore. And the same remark a little qualified will apply to communities somewhat raised above the savage state. Thus Abraham was led abroad at night, and was commanded to try and number the stars ; a much more expressive intimation of the great increase of his posterity, than could have been conveyed by the restricted power of the Hebrew numerals. In view of such facts as these, two rules are laid down by Mr. Locke in regard to correct enumerations, (1) That the mind distinguish carefully between any two ideas, which differ from each other only by the ad- dition or subtraction of that primary element, which we call an unit ; (2) That it retain in memory the names or marks of the several intermediate combinations from an unit to the number, which completes the sum. Without an obser- vance of these directions no one can be assured, that he has made a correct enumeration. i. 95. Simple modes from duration* It was remarked in speaking of our simple ideas, that our idea of succession was obtained in this way. Our ideas, while we are awake, are constantly going in a train, one coming and another departing. In this way, having this regular appearance and disappearance of thought forced upon our attention, we receive the idea of succes- sion ; and also by observing what takes place in external objects, such as the removal of bodies and the supply of their place by others, the changes of day and night, &c. It is bv the aid of the simple idea of succession, that 16 1 IIS SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. we form the idea of duration; the ideas, formed from which last, have a claim to be ranked with the simple modes. We are conscious not only of our existence, but of the continuance of our existence, or of our personal identi- ty : we take it for granted, or rather it is forced upon us as an original intimation of our minds, in every thing we do, in every step of reasoning. This indelible conviction, that we are what we have been, being considered in con- nection with our succession of ideas, gives rise to our idea of duration. So that whenever we can speak or think of our existence as commensurate with or measured by a certain number of ideas, we are furnished with this addi- tional notion, to which the name of duration is given. As we cannot have the notion of duration without suc- cession, hence it happens, that we know nothing of dura- tion when we are perfectly asleep, because we know not, that there are then any of those intellectual changes, which we term a succession of ideas. If a person could sleep with a perfect suspension of all his intellectual operations from this time until the resurrection, the whole of that pe- riod would appear to him as nothing. Ten thousand years passed under such circumstances would be less than a few days or even hours. That it is only by comparing that consciousness of the permanency of our own existence, whichever attends us in our waking moments, with the successive changes taking place within and without, that we acquire our notion of duration, is in some measure proved by a variety # of facts, which have been ascertained and preserved. There is, for example, in a French work, (L'Histoire de l'Academie Royaledes Sciences pourl'annee, 1719,) .a statement to the following effect. There was in Lausanne a nobleman, who, as he was giving orders to a servant, suddenly lost his speech and all his senses. Dif- ferent remedies *ere tried, but, for a very considerable time, without effect. Fpr six months he appeared to be in a deep sleep, uneonscious of every thing. At the end of that period, however, resort having been had to certain SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. IW surgical operations, he was suddenly restored to his speech and the exercise of his understanding. When he recovered, the servant, to whom he had been giving or- ders, when he was first seized with the distemper, happen- ing to be in the room, he asked him, if he had done what he had ordered him to, not being sensible, that any inter- val, except perhaps a very short one, had elapsed during his illness. We get the idea of time, by considering any part of duration, as set or marked ofYby periodical measures, such as davs or vears. And it should be remarked, when we consider our design of showing the connection of our ideas with tlve two great sources of sensation and reflection, that we obtain the idea of these lengths or measures by means of the senses, viz. by our observation of the annual and diurnal revolutions of the sun. Under the simple modes from duration, then, may be reckoned minutes, hours, days, months, years, indeed eve- ry division, of which duration is susceptible. §. 96. Simple modes from extension. To extension, which is a simple idea, derived from the senses of sight and touch, we give the name of length, when it is contemplated as existing only in one direction. All our artificial measures of extension, such as an inch, a foot, a yard, a furlong, a mile, a league, a degree, whatever may be the process of the mind in forming those measures, are among its simple modes. That is to say, if we adopt an inch as the original measurement or the unit, from which we are to begin, then a foot consists of parts of extension, signified by the term inch, multiplied twelve times ; and a yard is the same measure increased or multiplied thirty six times. §. 97. Nature of the idea of infinity. Of our idea of infinity it seems difficult to give any sat- isfactory explanation or to say with certainty where it should be classed, but there are three things, with which J 20 SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. we are in the habit of connecting it, viz. number, duration, and extension. We form the idea of infinity of number by adding numbers as far as possible, with the additional notion, that this process may be carried on to any extent whatever. We form the idea of infinity of duration by repeating the ideas of time, such as an hour, a day, or a year, the same as in number. W T e obtain the idea of infinity of extension, or rather of that modification of extension, which is termed length, in the same manner, by repeating the ideas of an inch, a foot, a yard, or other measure, always feeling, when we have carried on this addition to the utmost extent of which Ave are capable, that it may be prosecuted still further, indefinitely. We seem to ourselves to receive the clearest idea of in- finity from numbering, because the distinction between all its modes is very accurately marked, so that we have a well defined perception of it. Indeed it does not appear, that, without the assistance of numbers, we could ever form the ideas of infinity of duration and extension. We obtain the notion of eternity by supposing our ideas of time, for instance, a month, or year, repeated in both directions, in time past as well as in that which is to come, always retaining the conviction of the possibility of the further prosecution of this process of repeating* §. 98. Of the complex ideas called mixed modes. .Mixed Modes are complex ideas, the attributes or de- pendencies of substances, compounded of simple ideas of different kinds. Instances are the ideas of theft, murder, justice, patriotism, gratitude, &c. Theft is a change of property without the consent of the owner, and with fraudulent intentions on the part of the person, who removes it. Consequently, it embraces among other ideas, differing from each other, those of ownership, transference, and consent. Murder is putting a person to death with evil inteH- SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 1*1 tion or malice aforethought ; consequently includes the ideas of man, death, evil feelings, premeditation. Gratitude is an emotion of love or complacency to- wards a person for some act of kindness, which he has done to us. In this mixed mode, therefore, we have ref- erence, not only to the person, who has received the ben- efit, but to the person, who conferred it, as well as to the act itself, and to the intellectual emotion excited by it. §. 99. Of the different ways of forming mixed modes. There are two ways in particular, by means of which we receive into the mind mixed modes. (1) The first method is by experience or observation of the things themselves. We see a person wrestling, fencing, or riding, and we thence learn the ideas, which are conveyed by those words. (2) The second method is by invention or voluntarily putting together several simple ideas in our own minds. The person, that first invented etching or printing, gave occasion, by combining ideas, which had never been united together before, for the complex notions, which are expressed by those terms. And we may suppose, that the mixed mode, expressed by the word, falsehood, and many others, were formed in a similar way. By examining mixed modes and tracing them to their original elements, we shall find them ultimately connect- ed with the great fountains of our knowledge, sensation and reflection. §. 100. Not the same mixed modes in all languages. The customs, habits, modes of thinking, political, in- stitutions, &c, are not the same in all countries, but dif- fer in a greater or less degree. Hence there is need of different expressions, that is, of expressions in one language not precisely corresponding to expressions in another. Thus the words, ostrakismos in the Greek, proscriptio in the Latin, and corban in the Hebrew, expressed ideas, to which most other nations found nothing precisely cor- responding, and.consequently, had no corresponding terras. 122 SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. This suggests a remark on the changes, which take place in languages. It is well known, that there are con- stant alterations in customs, and hardly less frequent fluc- tuations in feeling and opinion, and hence there necessa- rily arise new combinations of thought or ideas j and these must be expressed by new names. If people should be found unable or unwilling to in- vent new names for the expression of new complex ideas, they would evidently be subjected to great inconvenience. This may be seen, if we deprive ourselves of the benefit of any complex terms, for instance, reprieve and appeal, and attempt to converse on the subjects, where they natu- rally occur. We do not consider a mixed mode, as actually exist- ing in a language without a name. The number of mixed modes, therefore, in any language, although it might be greatly increased, is looked upon as limited by the number of names or words, by which they are ex- pressed. Note. Consult, in reference to the above and the preceding chapter, Locke's Essay, Bk. II. chs. 12 — 24. Brown's Philosophy of the Mind, Lect. x. Clarke's Dis- course on the Being and Attributes of God, compared with the Papers of Leibnitz and Clarke, III. §. 3., IV. §. 10., V. §; 42. Stewart's Historical Dissertation, Pt. II. $. 3. Soame Jenyn's Disquisitions, IV, On the Nature of Time, &c CHAPTER tfllVTH. COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. §. 101. Of the susceptibility of perceiving or feeling relations. It seems to be the custom of the language, to say, that the mind brings its thoughts together, and places them side by side, and compares them. And such is the imper- fect nature of all systems of arbitrary signs, that this phraseology will probably continue to be employed, al- though without some attention it will be likely to lead into errour. When it is said, that our thoughts are brought together, or placed side by side, nothing more can be meant than this, that they are immediately successive. And when it is further said, that we com- pare them, the meaning is, that we perceive or feel their relation to each other in certain respects. The mind, therefore, has an original susceptibility or power, answering to this result ; which is sometimes known, as its power of relative suggestion. The human intel- lect is so constituted, that, when it perceives different ob- jects together, or has immediately successive conceptions of any absent objects of perception, their mutual relations are immediately felt by it. It considers them as equal or unequal, like or unlike, as having the same or different causes and ends, and in various other respects. This mental power is an important one, and continu- ally obtrudes itself on our notice, in our internal history. It has a place especially, not only in that class of our com- plex ideas, which are before us, but in the processes of abstraction, imagination, and reasoning. 1-24 COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. §. 102. Occasions on which feelings of relation may arise. It is to this mental susceptibility we owe the third general class of our complex thoughts, which are called, in consequence of being formed by the comparison of our intellectual states one with another, ideas of rela- tion. Any of the ideas, which the mind is able to frame, may either directly, or indirectly, lay the founda- tion of other ideas of relation, since they may in general be compared together ; or if they cannot themselves be readily placed side by side, may be the occasion of bring- ing others into comparison. But those ideas, which are of an external origin, are representative of objects and their qualities ; and hence we may speak of the relations of things no less, than of the relations of thought. And such relations are every where discoverable. We behold the flowers of the field, and one is fairer than another. We hear many voices, and one is louder or softer than another. But these differences of sound and of brightness could never be known to us without the power of perceiving relations. Again, we see a fellow- being ; and as we make him the subject of our thoughts, we at first think of him only as a man. But then he may at the same time be a father, a brother, a son, a citizen, a legislator ; these terms express ideas of relation. §• 103. Of the use of correlative terms. Correlative terms are such terms, as are used to ex- press corresponding ideas of relation. They suggest the relations with great readiness, and by means of them the mind can be more steadily, and longer, and with less pain, fixed upon the ideas, of which they are expressive. The words, father and son, legislator and constituent, brother and sister, husband and wife, and others of this class, as soon as they are named, at once carry our thoughts beyond the persons, who are the subjects of these relations, to the relations themselves. Wherever, there- fore, there are correlative terms, the relations may be ex- pected to be clear to the mind. The word, citizen, is a relative term, but there being COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. 13* no word correlative, expressing a corresponding relation, we find it more difficult to form a ready conception of the thing signified, than of subject, which has the correla- tives, ruler and governor. It is hardly necessary to remind any one, that the re- lation is something different from the things related. The relations are often changing, while the subjects of them remain the same. A person may sustain the relation and the name of a father to-day ; but the inroads of death may on the morrow deprive him of his offspring, and thus termi- nate thatcharacter,which the relative term, father.expresses. §. 104. Of the great number of our ideas of relation. Mr. Locke has the remark, that it would make a vol- ume to go over all sorts of relations, and with good rea- son ; since they are as numerous, as that almost endless variety of respects, in which our ideas may be compared to- gether, and as the great multitude of circumstances, which are to be taken into view in such comparisons. With the single idea of man how many others are connected in consequence of the various relations, which he sustains ! He may, at one and the same time, be a father, broth- er, son, grandson, brother-in-law, son-in-law, husband, friend, enemy, subject, general, judge, patron, townsman, European, Englishman, servant, master, possessor, su- periour, inferiour, bigger, less, older, younger, contem- porary, like, unlike, together with sustaining a varietv of other relations too numerous to be mentioned. Such is the number of relations, that it is found diffi- cult to reduce them to classes ; and probably no classifica- tion of them, which has been hitherto proposed, exhausts them in their full extent. The most of those, which it will be necessary to notice, may be brought into the four class- es of Proportional, Natural, and Instituted relations, and relations of Cause and Effect. § . 105. Of proportional relations. Among the subordinate divisions, of which rel.v- rioNs are susceptible, the first ci*si t» bo. mpnti«n^rt. and 17 ViQ COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. which includes a considerable number of ideas of this. kind, have been termed proportional relations. In this minor division may be included all those ideas, which are capable of being considered as made up of parts or as susceptible of different degrees ; and of consequence, ad- mit of being compared as to more or less. Hence their name, because we consider the proportion, which they sustain to others, as to size or degrees. Instances are whiter, sweeter, wiser, larger, smaller, nobler, and many other adjectives, which admit of being put into the comparative or superlative. We cannot say of one apple, that it is sweeter than an- other, or of one man, that he is wiser than another, without involving the supposition, that they have been compared together, the apples as to their degrees of sweetness, and the persons spoken of as to their degrees of knowledge. §. 106. Certain terms are relative which are supposed to bo positive. There are certain terms, (whether they are to be class- ed with the proportional relations or not, it is not very essential to inquire,) which are supposed to be positive terms, and not to intimate any comparison or relative con- sideration of other ideas. We allude to no small number of adjectives in the positive degree ;— take as instances, the epithets learned, ignorant, rich, poor, old, young. However these may at first sight appear to be entirely pos- itive, and have been considered to be so, and as excluding any comparative references, they will be found on exam- ination to be of a somewhat different character from what has often been imagined. Let it, then, be considered what we mean, when we say of a person, He is old. We evidently compare him in regard to his age, whenever we use those expressions, with others, with people in general, and place the partic- ular number of years, to which he may have attained, by the side of that period, which we are in the habit of re- garding as the ordinary limit of man's pilgrimage. The same, when we say of any person, that he is young ; he is then considered as falling far short of an assumed COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATfoN. 127 period, an approximation to which gives to another person the reputation of age. Again, when we say of any individual, that he is learned or ignorant, we tacitly make a comparison of what he has learnt with the acquisitions of mankind in general. If it exceed the ordinary sum of human knowledge, we call him learned ; if it fall short, he is characterized as ignorant. Accordingly, a comparison of this sort being implied in the use of epithets, a North American Savage, or a per- son of any other uncivilized race, might enjoy the reputa- tion of great knowledge among his own people, who would rightly be accounted ignorant, if he were placed in another situation. §. 107. Of ideas of natural relations. Secondly ; Having mentioned proportional relations, as forming a minor or subordinate division of this third general class of our complex ideas, it is to be noticed here, that there is another, a second occasion of comparing things together, so as to ascertain ideas of relation ; viz. When we consider their origin or beginning, and see how other things stand in reference to that origin. And such ideas as are ascertained in this way, and are found to re- sult, as it were, from creation and nature, are what are termed ideas of natural relations. It seems to be particularly characteristic of those re- lations, which we have now in view, that they are perma- nent ; meaning by the remark, that they are not altered and brought to an end by ordinary circumstances ; but, as they begin to exist at the moment of birth, will be found to ter- minate only with the life either of the subject of the rela- tion or of the correlated person. Such are the ideas of father, brother, son, nephew, &c. Mr. Locke mentions the term, countrymen, that is, those, who were born in the same country or tract of ground, as belonging here. §. 108. Of ideas of instituted or conventional relations. Thirdly ; There are relations, which do not result m COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. from the constitution of nature, but are the consequence of the various obligations and duties in civil society ; and these, therefore, may be called ideas of instituted or CONVENTIONAL, RELATIONS. Thus a GENERAL is One, who has the power to command an army, this power being delegated to him by virtue of certain provisions, entering originally into the terms of the civil compact. An ar- my is a collection or body of armed men, who are under obligations, by the terms of such civil compact, to obey one man. -A citizen or burgher is one, who has a right to the privileges of civil society in a certain place, that is to say, is the subject of some government, to the principles of whose organization he is supposed to have consented, and to have taken a part in it. These relations may be distinguished from the natural relations in the preceding section, by the circumstance, that they are not permanent, but are dependent upon the will or agreement of men, and may terminate before the subjects of them have ceased to exist. The general of an army may cease to act in that ca- pacity, since the government, who gave him his authority, may take it away again. The army may be disbanded, and the bonds of civil society may be broken loose, and its members go back again into the state of nature. It is not thus in natural relations. The father sustains the c haracter, intimated by that term, so long as the son lives ; the son sustains the filial relation so long as the existence of the father, and, in all cases of this description, the re- lations do not terminate, until one of the correlated parties is no more. $. 109. Cause and effect ideas of relation. Of cause and effect we have already had occasion to remark, that it is impossible to trace any positive connection between them, and that they are nothing more than regu- lar or invariable antecedents and consequents. The ideas, expressed by these terms, belong to the class, which we are now considering. They certainly have a relation to each other ; the constitution of the mind places them in COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. 129 that light, although no physical connection can be traced. We cannot conceive of a cause, if we exclude from the list of our ideas the correlative notion of effect. Nor, on the other hand, do we call any thing an effect without a refer- ence to some antecedent. These two notions, therefore, involve or imply the existence of each other; that is, are relative. If we examine the occasion of the first origin of these thoughts, we shall there see grounds of the correctness of this view. To those things, which from time to time fall under our notice, we give the name of events, occur- rences, or facts, when considered in themselves. They are then the mere facts, the mere events; and nothing more. But when in the course of our experience, they are found to have certain invariable forerunners, we cease to apply these terms, and call them, in reference to their antecedents, effects. And in like manner the antecedents are called causes, not in themselves considered, but in reference to what invariably comes after. §. 110. Ideas of relation implying or involving cause and effect. The three classes of proportional, natural, and institu- ted relations do not embrace all, which properly come within this general division of our complex thoughts ; al- though they include a great part of them. Among other ideas of relation, not reducible to either of these classes, are some, which involve the notions of cause and effect. Such, for instance, as are expressed by the concrete terms, which concern the mechanical and liberal arts, as printer, sculptor, painter, poet. When we look at an in- teresting piece of statuary, the sight of it naturally suggests its author. But when our mind is thus directed from the statue to the sculptor, it is evident, that we do not think of him as we do of a thousand others, but we combine with our conception ot the individual a reference to what he has done. We unite with the mere complex idea of man that of a cause, and this combination so alters the character of the complex thought, that it is proper to class it as an idea of relation. So when we look at a fine 130 COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. painting, we are natiirally reminded of the artist. But the word, painter, which we apply to him, expresses not merely the man, but comprises the additional notion of the relation, which he holds to the interesting picture be- fore us. There are other relations, involved in the terms, which express the position or place of objects; also in the dates or periods of time, in which events have happened. These require a brief notice. §. 111. Place is an idea of relation. We cannot conceive of any body as having place or po- sition, without comparing it with some other bodies. If, therefore, having two bodies fixed, or which maintain the same relative position, we can compare a third body with them, the third body can then be said to have place or po- sition. This may be illustrated by the chess-men, pla- ced on the chess-board. We say, the men are in the same place, although the board may have been removed from one room to another. We use this language, because we consider the men only in relation to each other and the parts of the board, and not in relation to the rooms or parts of the room. Hence we may clearly have an idea of the place or po- sition of all the different parts of the universe, considered separately, because they may be compared with other parts ; although we are unable to form any idea of the place or position of the universe considered, as a whole,, because we have then no other body, with which we can compare it. But if place express a relative notion, then it follows, that all words, which involve or imply the place or position of an object, are of a similar character. Such are the words, high and low, near and distant, above and beneath, further, nearer, hither, yonder, here, there, where, and the like. §. 112. Chronological dates involve ideas of relation. The independence of the North American colonies was COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. 131 declared, July 4th, 17TG. The meaning of these ex- pressions may be thus illustrated. We assume the present year 1S28, as a given period and reckon back to the year, one, which coincides with the birth of our Saviour ; then the year, 17TG, expresses the distance between these two extremes, viz. one, and eighteen hundred, twenty eight. This seems to be all we learn, when we say, the Independence of the United States was declared at the period above mentioned. We mean the same thing, and convey the same idea, whether we say that the Saviour was born in the year, one, of the Christian era, or, in the year, 4004, from the creation of the world. But, in the last case, the year, 4004, ex- presses the distance between these two extremes, viz. the beginning of the world, and the present time ; while, in the first instance, the event itself forms the beginning of the series. So that all dates appear to be properly classed under ideas of relation. $. 113. Modes, substances, and relations resolvable into simple ideas. All our complex ideas, whether siodes, substances, or relations, may be traced back and resolved into simple ideas, although it may not be very obvious, in some in- stances, how this is to be done, or when we have arrived at the end of the analysis. It seems in general to be more easy to ascertain what are the simple ideas, which enter into the formation of the two first classes, than of the third. But nothing, it must be confessed, is so much wanting as the patience necessary to go into a careful examination of our thoughts, in order to a successful re- sult even in this last class. When we say, tiiat honey is sweeter than bread, or that iron is harder than wax, the words, sweeter and habd- er express relations or relative ideas, but being analyzed, so far as we are able to, they clearly terminate in the simple ideas of sweetness and hardness. These, which are the ultimate and ruling notions, have their birth-place in the senses ; and although other ideas are subsequently ••iiperadded to them, there, are none, which are beyond L32 COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. the limits of sensation and reflection, as those two sources of knowledge have already been explained. Again, when we say of any individual, whom we hap- pen to see, that he is our friend or our enemy, words, which not only express relations, but are correlative to each other, what do we mean to say or imply in the use of such expressions, but this; viz. (1,) That he is a man, (2,) That he exercises love or hatred, (3,) That we are the subjects of it. And having made this general analysis of the terms, we are then to consider what the complex notion, expressed by the word, man, is made up of, to inquire also where the idea of love or of hatred is to be classed, and what is its origin, &c. And thus we shall in the end not only arrive at those ideas, which are termed simple, but shall find in every such analysis, that the doctrine of a twofold, of an external and internal ori- gin of knowledge, is susceptible of abundant confirma- tion. We finish this chapter with a few practical re- marks on furnishing our minds with ideas. §. 114. The mind should be furnished with a store of ideas. As early as possible should the mind be furnished with a rich variety of thoughts. Although it be proper and oftentimes necessary, that persons should direct their atten- tion more to some particular subject than others, yet no individual can be considered as possessed of a good edu- cation, who is not in some degree acquainted with many subjects. Our acquisitions are not to be limited to the affairs of our own country, but we are to become acquaint- ed with the history of other nations also; and while there is much to be learnt, that is of modern origin, the records of antiquity ought not to be wholly neglected. We are to learn things both of a political and a religious kind, those, which have relation to the mechanic arts, the laws of nature, the intercourse of life, the principles of the mind, and on a variety of other subjects. Some of the benefits of possessing a large fund of ideas, which are the elements or materials of our knowledge, are these. COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. m (1) Tt enables us to take a wide, and, therefore, in gen- eral a more accurate view of subjects. In regard to every science there are some things true and some things false, and we are constantly liable to er- rour ; it may, therefore, well be expected, that he who has a large store of ideas in that science, which he can exam- ine and compare together, stands so much the better chance of having his sentiments well balanced and cor- rect. A person, designing to pursue the study of law or of theology, may be of the opinion, that a knowledge of chemistry, of natural philosophy, or of the physiology of the human system, may be of no advantage to him, as a lawyer, theologian, &c, but there are many things, it may be replied, even if we admit the propriety of this opinion, the knowledge of which may not be so particularly ben- eficial in one's chosen pursuit, but of which, nevertheless, it would be highly discreditable to be ignorant. Moreover, a lawyer, who is quite familiar with the prin- ciples of his particular department, may sometimes find himself a little perplexed, even when debating in a court of justice, in consequence of his ignorance of the chemical science ; and a judge has been known to be confused, in making up a decision on a case of suspected murder, for want of a more intimate acquaintance with the philosophy of our animal organization. (2) There is a second advantage, resulting from this enlarged and general acquaintance with things, viz. it will help, on the one hand, to preserve us from an excess of credulity or too readily believing every thing, which is proposed to us for our assent, and on the other, will be likely to guard us from a positive, and dogmatical turn of mind. There are many things, which at first sight appeared strange and incredible, but were afterwards found by us to be true. The more extensive the range of our knowl- edge, the more shall we have found of instances of this sort. Hence when any thing is stated, however strange it fnav at first appear, we shall not be disposed t» affirm oi- ls* KJ4 COMPLEX IDEAS OF RELATION. deny in respect to it with dogmatism, but shall be willing to make further inquiries. The more we know also in general, the more we shall, consequently, know, in particular, of intentional decep- tions, and of the various unavoidable causes of mistake in cases where it is only candour to suppose, that there is no intention to deceive. We shall thus be strengthened against the indulgence of an extreme credulity, as well as against, a too positive and dogmatical spirit. These are advantages, which are not to be lightly pri- zed, and are a sufficient reason, why we sh< uld early at- tempt to furnish ourselves with many ideas on a variety of subjects, by our personal observation of what things take place around us, by self-examination, by reading judicious books, and by conversation. Note. Those complex thoughts, which embrace ideas of relation, and which, consequently, are in part formed by the aid of the power or susceptibility of relative sug- gestion, are more or less examined by writers on the Mind. See Locke's Essay, Bk. II. chs. xxv, xxvi. com- pared with the forty fifth and fiftieth of Brown's Lectures ; Burner's First Truths, Pt. II. chs. xxvii, xxviii. ; Duncan's Elements, Ch. iv. and other Treatises of Logic ; Good's Book of Nature, Series III. Lect. iv.; also, in respect to furnishing the mind with ideas and on other points of men- tal discipline, Watt's Improvement of the Mind. CHAPTER TENTH OF CONCEPTIONS. $. 1 15. Meaning of conceptions and how they differ from certain other states of the niind„ W e are now to consider the mind and its suscepti- bilities in another view, viz. as employed in originating those intellectual states, which are usually called conceptions. This name is given to those ideas, which we have of any absent objects of perception, or of any sensations whatever, which the mind has formerly felt. Whenever we have conceptions, our ideas are replaced, as Shakes- peare expresses it, in the " mind's eye," without our at all considering at what time or in what place they first origin- ated. In other words, our ideas or mental states are re- called, and nothing more. Using, therefore, the term conceptions to express a class of ideas, it may be sufficient, in order to give some notion of their distinctive character, to mention, how they differ from perceptions, and from ideas of memory. (1) They differ from perceptions, because the objects of them are absent. When we perceive any thing, an edifice, a lake, or a mountain ; the objects of our perceptions are before us. But we may form conceptions of them, and they may exist in " the mind's eye," however distant. (2) They differ also from ideas of memory, because they are contemplated exclusively of any considerations of time. But in every act of the memory there is an idea of the past. Hence, as those states of mind, to which we give the name of conceptions, possess these distinctive marks or characteristics, they are entitled to a separate name. loU OP CONCEPTIONS. Conceptions being merely mental states or acts of a particular kind are regulated by the general laws of the intellect, and make their appearance and disappearance on the principles of association. Those principles are to be fully explained hereafter. Whenever at any time we may use the phrase " power of conception " or " facul- ty of conception," nothing more is to be understood by such expressions than this, that there is in the mind a sus- ceptibility of ideas possessing the marks, which we have ascribed to this class. §. 116. Of conceptions of objects of sight. One of the striking facts in regard to our conceptions is, that we can far more easily conceive the objects of some senses than of others. Suppose a person to have travelled abroad, and to have seen St. Peter's church and the Vatican, or to have visited the cataract of Niagara and the falls of St. Anthony, or any other interesting object of sight ; it is well known that the mind of this person after- wards even for many years very readily forms a concep- tion of those objects. Such ideas are so easily and so distinctly recalled, that it is hardly too much to say of them, that they seem to exist as permanent pictures in the mind. It is quite different with a particular sound, which we have formerly heard, and with a particular taste, or any pleasant or painful sensations of the touch, which we have formerly experienced. When the original perceptions have in these last cases departed, we find that the ideas do not readily exist again in the absence of their appro- priate objects, and never with the distinctness, which they possessed at first. Ideas of visible objects, therefore, are more readily recalled, or we can more easily form con- ceptions of such objects than we can of the objects of the other senses. — This peculiarity in the case of visible ob- jects may be thus partially explained. Visible objects or rather the outlines of them are'eom- plex ; that is, they are made up of a great number of points or very small portions. Hence the conception, which we form of such an object as a whole, is aided by the princi- OF CONCEPTIONS. 1G7 pies of association. The reason is obvious. As every original perception of a visible object is a compound, made up of many parts, whenever we subsequently have a conception of it, the process is the same; we have a con- ception of a part of the object, and the principles of asso- ciation help us in conceiving of the other parts. Associa- tion connects the parts together ; it presents them to the mind in their proper arrangement, and helps to sustain them there. We are not equally aided by the laws of association in forming our conceptions of the objects of the other senses. When we think of some sound, or taste, or touch, the ob- ject of our conception is a single detached sensation. In every such sound or taste, or sensation of touch, whether we consider it at its first origin or when it is subsequently recalled, there is not that association of the parts, which we suppose to exist in every visual perception, and which must, of course, exist in every conception of objects of sight, which subsequently takes place. Accordingly our conceptions of the latter objects arise more readily, and are more distinct than of the others.* §. 117. Of the influence of habit on our conceptions. It is another circumstance worthy of notice in regard to conceptions, that the power of forming them depends in some measure on habit. In what sense we are to understand the terms power and faculty, when used in this connection, has already been explained ; and as to the term habit, it is sufficient to say of it here, that it is the readiness or facility, whether bodily or mental, which we acquire by a frequent repetition of the same thing. A few instances will help to illustrate the statement, that what is termed Habit may extend to the susceptibility * In these remarks we take for granted, that our perceptions of external visible objects are not immediate, but progressive. The mind passes from one part to another of the object, and does not em- brace the whole at once. As this, though reasonable, may be consid- ered too much like a mere assumption by some, it is suitable to remark here, that this subject will be examined in some subsequent pages. 136 OF CONCEPTION. of conceptions ; and the first to be given will be of con- ceptions of sounds. Our conceptions of sounds are in general very indistinct, as appeared in the last section. Biii a person may acquire the power of amusing himself with reading written music. Having frequently associa- ted the sounds with the notes, he lias at last such a strong conception of the sounds, that he experiences, by merely reading the notes, a very sensible pleasure. It is for the same reason, viz., because our associations are strength- ened by habit, that readers may enjoy the harmony of po- etical numbers without at all articulating the words. In both cases they truly hear nothing, but there is a virtu- al melody in the mind. That our power of forming conceptions is strengthen- ed by habit is capable of being further illustrated from the sight. A person, who has been accustomed to drawing, retains a much more perfect notion of a building, land- scape, or other visible object, than one who has not. A por- trait painter, or any person, who has been in the practice of drawing such sketches, can trace the outlines of the hu- man form with very great ease ; it requires hardly more effort from them than to write their names. — This point may also be illustrated by ike difference,which we sometimes notice in people in their conception of colours. Some are fully sensible of the difference between two colours when they are presented to them, but cannot with confidence give names to these colours when they see them apart, and may even confound the one with the other. Their original sensations or perceptions are supposed to be equal- ly distinct with those of other persons; but their subse- quent conception of the colours is far from being so. This defect arises partly at least from want of practice, that is, from the not having formed a habit. The per- sons, who exhibit this weakness of conception, have not been compelled by their situation nor by mere inclination to distinguish and to name colours so much as is common. §. 118. Of the subserviency of our conceptions lo description. It is highly favourable to the talent for lively descrip- OF CONCEPTIONS. ];2> iion, when a person's conceptions are readily suggested and are distinct. Even such an one's common conversa- tion differs from that of those, whose conceptions arise more slowly and are more faint. — One man, whether in conversation or in written description, seems to place the object, which he would give us an idea of, directly before us ; it is represented distinctly and to the life. Another, although not wanting in a command of language, is confu- sed and embarrassed amid a multitude of particulars, which in consequence of the feebleness of his conceptions he finds himself but half acquainted with ; and he, therefore, gives us but a very imperfect notion of the thing, which he would describe. It has been by some supposed, that a person might give a happier description of an edifice, of a landscape, or other object, from the conception than from the actual perception of it. The perfection of a description does not always consist in a minute specification of circumstan- ces ; in general the description is better, when there is a judicious selection of them. The best rule for making the selection is, to attend to the particulars, that make the deepest impression on our own minds, or, what is the same thing, that most readily and distinctly take a place in our conceptions. — When the object is actually before us, it is extremely difficult to compare the impressions, which dif- ferent circumstances produce. When we afterwards con- ceive the object, we possess merely the outline of it ; but it is an outline made up of the most striking circumstan- ces. Those circumstances, it is true, will not impress all persons alike, but will somewhat vary with the degree of their taste. But when with a correct and delicate taste any one combines lively conceptions, and gives a des- cription from those conceptions, he can hardly fail to suc- ceed in it. §. 119. Of conceptions attended with a momentary belief. Our conceptions are sometimes attended with belief ; when they are very lively, we are apt to ascribe to their objects a real existence or believe in them. It is not as- 140 OF CONCEPTIONS. gerted by us, that the belief is permanent ; but a numbef of facts strongly lead to the conclusion, that it has a mo- 1 mentary existence. — (1) A painter in drawing the features and bodily form of an absent friend, may have so strong a conception, so vivid a mental picture, as to believe for a moment that his friend is before him. After carefully re- calling his thoughts at such times and reflecting upon them, almost every painter is ready to say, that he has experienced some illusions of this kind. It is true, the illusion is very short, because the intensity of conception, which is the foundation of it, can never be kept up long when the mind is in a sound state. Such intense conceptions are un- natural. And, further, all the surrounding objects of per- ception, which no one can altogether disregard for any length of time, every now and then check the illusion and terminate it. — (2) Place a person on the battlements of a high tower; his reason tells him he is in no danger; he knows he is in none. But after all he is unable to look down from the battlements without fear ; his conceptions are so exceedingly vivid as to induce a momentary belief of danger in opposition to all his reasonings. — (3) There are persons who are entirely convinced of the folly of the popular belief of ghosts and other nightly apparitions, but who cannot be persuaded to sleep in a room alone, nor go alone into a room in the dark. Whenever they happen out at night, they are constantly looking on every side ; their quickened conceptions behold images which never had any existence except in their own minds, and they are the subjects of continual disquiet and even terror. "It was my misfortune, (says Dr. Priestly,) to have the idea of darkness, and the ideas of invisible malignant spirits and apparitions very closely connected in my in- fancy ; and to this day, notwithstanding I believe nothing of those invisible powers, and consequently of their con- nection with darkness, or any thing else, I cannot be per- fectly easy in every kind of situation in the dark, though I am sensible I gain ground upon this prejudice continually." In all such cases we see the influence of the prejudices of the nursery. Persons, who are thus afflicted, were OF CONCEPTIONS. 141 tnusht in early childhood to form conceptions of ghosts, hobgoblins, and unearthly spirits ; and the habit still con- tinues. It is true, when they listen to their reasonings and philosophy, they may well say that they do not believe in such things. But the effect of their philosophy is merely to check their belief; not in one case in a thousand is the belief entirely overcome. Every little while, in all solita- ry places, and especially in the dark, it returns and when banished returns again ; otherwise we cannot give an ex- planation of the conduct of these persons. §. 120. Conceptions which are joined with perceptions. The belief in our mere conceptions is the more evident and striking, whenever they are at any time joined with our perceptions. A person walking in a field in a thick foggy morning perceives something, no matter what it is ; but he believes it to be a man, and does not doubt it. In other words, he truly perceives some object, and, in addi- tion to that perception, has a mental conception of a man attended with belief. . When he has advanced a few feet further, all at once he perceives, that what he conceived to be a man is merely a stump with a few large stones pi- led on its top. He perceived at first, as plainly or but little short of it, that it was a stump, as in a moment after- wards ; there were the whole time very nearly the same visible form and the same dimensions in his eye. But whatever he had in his eye, he certainly had in his mind the conception of a man, which overruled and annulled the natural effects of the visual perception ; the concep- tion being associated with a present visible object acquir- ed peculiar strength and permanency, so much so that he truly and firmly believed, that a human being was before him. But the conception has departed ; the present ob- ject of perception has taken its place, and it is now impos- sible for him to conjure up the phantom, the reality of which he but just now had no doubt of. Many a per- son has waked up in the night and has firmly believed, that he saw a form clothed in white standing in an erecr position at some part of the room, but in a moment after 10 143 OF CONCEPTIONS. the imaginary visitant has vanished, and there is nothing left but the reflection of the moonbeams on the wall. — In cases of this kind, where the conceptions are upheld, as it were, by present objects of perception, and receive a sort of permanency from them, nothing is better known, than that we often exercise a strong and unhesitating belief. These instances, therefore, can properly be considered as illustrating & confirming the views.in the preceding section. §. 121. Of our conceptions at tragical representations. These observations suggest an explanation, at least in part, of the effects, which are produced on the mind by exhibitions of fictitious distress. In the representation of tragedies, it must be admitted, that there is a general con- viction of the whole being but a fiction. But, although persons enter the theatre with this general conviction, it does not always remain with them the whole time. At certain passages in the poet peculiarly interesting, and at certain exhibitions of powerful and well timed effort in the actor, this general impression, that all is a fiction, fails. The feelings of the spectator may be said to rush into the scenes; he mingles in the events ; carried away and lost, he for a moment believes all to be real, and the tears gush at the catastrophe which he witnesses. The explanation, therefore, of the emotions felt at the exhibition of a trag- edy, such as indignation, pity, and abhorrence, is, that at certain parts of the exhibition we have a momentary belief in the reality of the events, which are represented. And after the illustrations which have been given, such a belief cannot be considered impossible. The same explana- tion will apply to the emotions, which follow our reading of tragedies when alone, or any other natural and affecting descriptions. In the world of conceptions, which the ge- nius of the writer conjures up, we are transported out of the world of real existence, and for a while fully believe in the reality of what is only an incantation. £. 122. Application of these principles to diversities in the mental character of individuals. It is a remark sometimes made, that the sanguine are opt to believe and assert what they hope; and the timo- OF CONCEPTIONS. 143 rous what they fear. This remark implies, and is found- ed in part on what every one knows, that there are diver- sities in the intellectual character of different individuals. Some are constitutionally fearful ; every obstacle assumes an undue importance, and every terror is magnified. Oth- ers are confident, fearless, ardent. Both of these classes of persons are known to commit frequent mistakes in judg- ing of those things, which are future, and which have any connection with their respective mental characteristics. The remarks, which were made in the three last sec- tions, will help us to an explanation in this thing. As to what is called belief, it is presumed no one can be ig- norant of it, although it would be futile to attempt to ex- plain it by words. It is, however, important to remark, that belief is regulated and controlled, not by direct voli- tion, but by the nature of the circumstances, which are placed before the mind. But it has been already suffi- ciently shown, that belief is in a measure under the con- trol of our conceptions, when they are very vivid. It is also undoubtedly true, that vividness of conceptions is al- wavs attended with a strong feeling of pleasure, or of desire, or of some other kind. But it is implied in the mental characters of the persons, on whom we are remarking, that their feelings are strong, though opposite ; in the one case, confident and ardent; in the other, dejected and timid. Hence their conceptions will be strong. To tjie one all difficulties and dangers will be magnified ; to the oth- er, the glory and the fruition of success. And as these distorted conceptions necessarily control more or less their belief, it will follow, that perfect reliance is not to be placed on their opinions, when they are directly con- nected either with their hopes or their fears. Nor will such distrust always imply an unfavourable opinion of the rectitude of their intentions. Reid's Essays on the In- tellectual Powers, IV. ; Stewart's Elements, Ch. III. ; Brown's Lectures, XLI. ; Priestley's Examination of Keid, Sect. Vlil. CHAPTER ELEVENTH. PARTICULAR AND GENERAL ABSTRACT IDEAS. §. 123. Origin of abstractions and kinds of them. J. he remarks, which have been hitherto made on our perceptions of present objects, and on our conceptions of those, which are absent, open the way for the considera- tion of our mental states in another respect, viz., as they are affected by the process of abstraction. By means of that process, they become abstracted or separated ; that is, they are made subjects of consideration apart from oth- er ideas, with which they are ordinarily found to be asso- ciated. And hence, whenever this is the case in respect to the states of the mind, they are sometimes called ab- stractions, and still more frequently are known by the name of abstract ideas. They may be divided into the two kinds of particular and general abstract ideas, which are clearly distinct from each other, not only in them- selves considered, but also as respects the intellectual pro- cesses, by means of which they exist. §. 124. Of the class of particular abstract ideas. We shall first remark on particular abstract ideas. Of this class the different kinds of colours may be mentioned as instances. When any absent object of perception oc- curs to us, when we think of or form a conception of it, our thoughts will sometimes fix upon the colour of such ob- ject, and make that the subject of consideration, without particularly regarding its other qualities, such as weight, PARTICULAR & GENERAL ABSTRACT IDEAS. 145 hardness, taste, form, &c. We may also distinguish in any body its solidity from its extension, or we may direct our attention to its weight, or its length, or breadth, or thickness, and make any one of these a distinct object in our thoughts, even when it is impossible to separate them in the subject, to which they belong. And hence, as it is a well known fact, that the prop- erties of any body may be separated in the view and ex- amination of the mind, however close and indissoluble their intimacy in their appropriate subjects, we may lay down this statement in respect to the states of mind be- fore us. When any quality or attribute of an object, which does not exist by itself, but always in a state of combination, is detached by our minds from its customary associates, and is considered separately, it becomes a par- ticular abstract idea. The distinctive mark of this class is, that the abstraction is always limited to one quality. §. 125. Of the formation of particular abstract ideas. The manner of expressing ourselves on the subject of our abstract notions, to which we have been accustomed, is apt to create and cherish a belief in the existence of a separate mental faculty, adapted solely to this particular purpose. But the doctrine of a power or faculty of ab- straction, which is exclusive of other mental susceptibili- ties, and is employed solely for this purpose, does not ap- pear to be well founded. It will convey an impression nearer the truth to speak of the process, rather than the power of abstraction. The following statement will be sufficient to show, how those of the first class, or particu- lar abstract ideas are formed. Although our earliest notions, whether they arise from the senses or are of an internal origin, are simple, or ex- ist in what may be called a state of decomposition, yet those simple thoughts are very soon found to unite togeth- er with a considerable degree of permanency, and out of them are formed complex states of mind All our ideas are recalled to the mind in the absence, of their appropri- Ua OF PARTICULAR AND ate objects by the principles of association ; nor does it seem altogether unreasonable to say, that the separate parts of all our complex notions are held together in their state of combination by the same principles. It is at least certain, that complex states of mind involve and im- ply the existence of elementary ones ; and that the selec- tion of these elements and their virtual admission into the complex mental state in preference to others is owing to the power of association. And the question is, how this principle of combination is to be loosened, and they are to oe extracted from their present complexity, and redu- ced to their elementary state ? In answer it may be said, that in every case of separating a particular abstract idea, there must necessarily be a co-existent feeling of interest, choice 5 or desire. This feeling must concern the previous complex state of the mind when viewed in one respect, rather than another ; or what is the same thing, it will concern one part of the complex idea rather than another. So that we may truly and justly be said to have a desire to consider or examine some part of the complex idea more particularly than the others. When the mind is in this high degree directed to any particular part of a com- plex idea, we find it to be the fact, that the principle of association, or whatever it is, which keeps the other parts in their state of virtual union with it, ceases in a corres- ponding degree to operate ; they rapidly fall off and dis- appear, and the particular quality or attribute, towards which the mind was especially directed, remains the sole subject of consideration. That is to say, it is abstracted or becomes an abstract idea. This, in the formation of particular abstract ideas, seems to be the process of the mind, and nothing more ; viz., (1) The recurrence or suggestion of the complex idea by the power of association ; (2) The co-existence of a feel- ing of desire or choice in respect to some particular part of it ; (3) The consequent detention of the part, towards which an interest is felt, and the disappearance of the other parts. Such is the activity of the mind, and in so ma- ny ways it views the " images of things," that this striking GENERAL ABSTRACT IDEAS- W piocess of detaching, and examining, and replacing, and changing the parts of our complex notions, is almost con- stantly going on. And after the mind has thus shifted its position, and has been now in this state and now in that, as if playfully to show its wonderful readiness in diminish- ing itself to a part of its previous complexity, it seems as readily to swell back again, if we may be allowed in such figurative expressions, to its former dimensions, and exists the same as before the process of abstraction commenced. §. 126. Of generalizations of particular abstract ideas. When we speak of the generalizing of this class of abstract ideas, it seems to be chiefly meant, that in our experience of things we observe them to be common to many subjects. We find whiteness to be a quality of snow, of chalk, of milk, and of other bodies ; and whenever with the simple abstract notion of whiteness we connect in our thoughts the additional circumstance of its not being lim- ited to one body but the property of many, the term may be said to be generalized. And this seems to be all, that can be properly understood by generalization when appli- ed to the states of mind, which we are now considering. §. 127. Of particular abstractions in poetry, painting. &c. The process of abstraction, which is gone through in the formation of particular abstract ideas, is greatly sub- servient to the exertions of a creative imagination, as they appear in painting, poetry, and the other fine arts. — The poet and the painter are supplied with their materials from experience ; without having received ideas from some source, they never could have practised their art. But if they do not restrict themselves to mere imitation, they mils' combine and modify the ideas which they have, so as to be able to form new creations of their own. But every exertion of this kind, which they make, of their powers, presupposes the exercise of abstraction in decomposing and separating actual conceptions and in forming them aripw. 148 OF PARTICULAR AND §. 128. Of general abstract ideas. We are now to remark upon the second class of alv stractions. General, abstract ideas, which is the name commonly applied to them, are our notions of the classes, or genera and species of objects, such as are expressed by the general names, man, bird, sheep, fish, animal, tree. As they include classes, it is hardly necessary to observe, that we cannot possess them without first considering two or more objects together. We may form, on the contrary, those of the first class or particular abstract ideas by con- sidering individual objects merely. Whenever, therefore, we see a number of trees of the same kind, or a number of flowers, or of men, or of horses, or sheep, the mind immediately exists in that state, which, when we think fit to give it a name, we call a general ab- stract idea. This general idea, however, does not embrace every particular, which makes a part of the individuals before us ; it leaves out of consideration certain peculiarities, which belong to each tree, each flower, man, &c. when separate- ly considered. And this is the reason of ideas of this kind being called abstract ; because, although they em- brace the whole number of individuals in certain respects, they detach and leave out altogether a variety of particu- lars in which they disagree. — As soon, therefore, as we per- ceive a number of objects before us of the same kind, we at once virtually dismiss from our view these circumstances of disagreement, and the mind exists, as above remarked, in a new state, which is essentially a feeling of resemblance. So that those mental states, which when put into words may be called feelings or immediate mental discoveries of the relation of resemblance in a number of objects, consti- tute what we understand by general abstract ideas, and these, as far as the mind is concerned and leaving out the names, are the true ideas of genera and species. But as a question may arise in the minds of some in regard to this feeling of resemblance, it is proper, in order to meet any such inquiries, briefly to remark further. GENERAL ABSTRACT IDEAS. 141) $. 129. Of relative suggestions or perceptions of relations. Nothing is more evident than that the objects, which we perceive, are in some way compared, one with anoth- er ; and that we learn, when such comparisons take place, how they conform to each other or how they difTer. We compare objects together in respect to their position, their resemblance and difference, degrees, and in a great varie- ty of respects, as was particularly seen at chapter ninth in the remarks there made on ideas of relation. This is conformable to the general experience of men. — There is necessarily implied in every such comparison the exist- ence of certain new states of the mind, which may be call- ed ideas of relation or feelings of relation, and which are essentially different from our simple perceptions or con- ceptions of the objects, that sustain the relation. But the inquiry arises, By virtue of what principle is this discovery of relations made ? The answer is, that there is in the mind an original tendency or susceptibility, by means of which, whenever we perceive different objects together, are instantly, without the intervention of any other tal process, sensible of their relation in certain respects. We may here give an illustration of the exercise of this original susceptibility, similar, however, to those al- ready given. When a number of objects are together, belonging to the same species, as two or more sheep, or horses, or men, or trees, or flowers, the mind immediately exists in that state, which constitutes the feeling of resem- blance. Here beside the mere perception of the objects we experience a feeling of relation, since that resemblance in the objects before us, of which we are conscious, is one of the many kinds of relation, of the perception of which the mind has been asserted to be originally suscep- tible. It is by means of this original susceptibility of re- lations, as it exhibits itself in particular in the perception of the relation of resemblance, that the whole of that class, which we term general abstract ideas, are formed. None we imagine can be formed without it. All this we know is to be decided, not by the opin- ions and assertions of an individual, but by the general Dr. we men- 150 OP PARTICULAR AND experience- In any doctrines, which are laid down in regard to the mind, every person has a right to give his testimony ; and whenever that testimony is a correct rep- resentation of the intellectual processes, it is valuable, whatever may be its tendency. But it is confidently thought, that nothing more is wanted, than an appeal to what men generally find themselves conscious of, to con- firm the above views. §. 130. Of classifications of objects. In the classification of objects and in giving general names, the process after what has been said cannot be thought to be either long or difficult. The first step is the perception of two or more objects, which constitutes one state of mind. The second is the feeling of resem- blance, which is the general idea. Guided by the feeling of resemblance, we are enabled to say, what objects come within the limits of a particular class, and what do not. The names, which are given to general ideas, are various- ly called by different writers, sometimes general names, sometimes general or common nouns in distinction from proper nouns, and sometimes genera and species. §. 131. Of general abstract ideas in connection with numbers, &c. The ability, which the mind possesses of forming gener- al abstract ideas, is of much practical importance ; but whether it be the characteristical attribute of a rational nature or not, as some have supposed, it is not necessary now to inquire. Its subserviency in the forming of classi- fications has already been seen. And it is further to be remarked, that without that mental susceptibility, by which we form general notions, we should not be able to number, even in the smallest degree. Before we can consider ob- jects as forming a multitude, or are able to number them, it seems necessary to be able to apply to them a common name. This we cannot do, until we have reduced them to a genus j and the formation of a genus implies a men- tal susceptibility of feeling the relation of resemblance. Consequently, we should be unable without such mental GENERAL ABSTRACT IDEAS. 151 susceptibility to number. How great then is the prac- tical importance of that intellectual property, by which general abstractions are formed ! — Without the ability to number, we should be at a loss in all investigations where this ability is required ; without the power to classify, all our speculations must be limited to particulars, and we should be capable of no general reasoning. §. 132. Of the speculations of philosophers and others. There is a characteristical difference between the spec- ulations of philosophers and those of the common mass of people, worthy of some notice. The difference between the two is not so much, that philosophers are accustomed to carry on processes of reasoning to a greater extent, as this ; that they are more in the habit of employing general abstract ideas and general terms, and that, consequently, the conclusions which they form are more comprehensive. Nor are their general reasonings, although the conclusions at which they arrive seem in their particular applications to indicate wonderful fertility of invention, so difficult in the performance as is apt to be supposed. They have so often and so long looked at general ideas and general propositions, have been so accustomed, as one may say, to contemplate the general nature of things, divested of all superfluous and all specific circumstances, that they have formed a habit ; and the operation is performed without difficulty. It requires in such persons no greater intellec- tual effort, than would be necessary in skilfully managing the details of ordinary business. The speculations of the great bulk of mankind differ from those of philosophers in being, both in the subjects of them and in their results, particular. They discover an inability to enlarge their view to universal propositions, which embrace a great number of individuals. They may possess the power of mere argument, of comparing propo- sitions together which concern particulars, and deducing inferences from them to a great degree ; but when they attempt to contemplate general propositions, their minds are perplexed, and the conclusions, which are drawn from m OF PARTICULAR AND them, appear obscure, however clearly the previous pro- cess of reasoning may have been expressed. §. 133* Of different opinions formerly prevailing. The subject of general abstract ideas, of which we have given a summary view, excited very considerable in- terest during the scholastic ages ; and different opinions have prevailed concerning them, not only at that period, but more or 'ess down to the present time. The disputes so widely prevailed, and so much interest was taken, that it seems to be necessary to give a short sketch of them. In this discussion there have been three parties, viz. the Realists, the Nominalists, and the Conceptualists. §. 134. Of the opinions of the Realists. Those, who go under this name, held, that general abstract ideas have a real and permanent existence, inde- pendent of the mind. Of a man, of a rose, of a circle, and of every species of things, they maintained, that there is one original form or archetype, which existed from eterni- ty, before any individuals of the species were created. This original model or archetype is the pattern, according to which the individuals of all species are in the most im- portant respects formed. The archetype, which is under- stood to embrace only the outlines or generic features of things, becomes an object of perception to the human in- tellect, whenever by due abstraction we discern it to be one and the same in all the individuals of the species. Such was the doctrine of the Realists, which in its most essen- tial respects was very widely received from the time of Plato and Aristotle down to the commencement of the 12th. century. But since that period, excepting a few ineffec- tual attempts, which have been made from time to time to revive it, it has fallen into as general disrepute, on the ground of its being too hypothetical and not sufficiently sustained by facts. §. 135. Of the opinions of the Nominalists. About the commencement of the 12th century, Rosce- GENERAL ABSTRACT IDEAS. 153 linus, the instructer of Abelard, whose name occupies so conspicuous a place in the history of scholastic learning, proposed a new hypothesis. He maintained, not only that there are no original forms or archetypes, such as had been asserted to exist by the Realists, but that there are no universal abstract ideas of any kind. On the contrary, it seems to have been his opinion, as well as the sentiment of those, who have subsequently approved of this doctrine, that nothing can be called general or universal but names, and that even to them universality can be ascribed only vir- tually, and not in the strict and literal sense of the term. — That is, the names are in the first instance given to indi- viduals, but when any individuals are specified, the na- ture of the mind is such, that we naturally and immediate- ly think of other individuals of the same kind. So that the names are in fact particular, although owing to the principle, which we now term association, the practical ef- fect is the same as if it were otherwise, and hence the ep- ithets "general" and "universal" are applied to them. This opinion in respect to general ideas and names, or some doctrine essentially of this description has found many advocates from the days of Roscelinus and Abelard to those of Berkeley and Dugald Stewart. §. 136. Of the opinions of the Conceptualists. Those, who hold to the actual existence of general ab- stract ideas, which are not permanent archetypes indepen- dent of the mind, but only states of the mind, have gener- ally been called Conceptualists. We have already given what we suppose to be the true mental process in the for- mation of such ideas. Whether we can have such ideas is best decided by each one's personal experience ; and when the examination of his internal experience is con- ducted with care, it can hardly be doubted, in what way such a question will be generally answered. As far as the Realists are concerned, the mere state- ment of their doctrine is sufficient at the present day to ensure its immediate rejection. The question lies then between the Nominalists, and* those who have commonly 154 OF PARTICULAR AND been called Conceptualists ; and if there be insuperable objections to the doctrine of the former, that of the latter enhances its claims on our adoption. Some of the objections to the sentiment of Roscelinus and those who have thought with him are forcibly summed up in the following passage from Brown's Philosophy of the Mind. " Of that rigid Nominalism, which involves truly no mix- ture of Conceptualism or of the belief of those feelings of relation for which I have contended, but denies altogether the existence of that peculiar class of feelings, or states of mind which have been denominated general notions, or general ideas, asserting the existence only of individual objects perceived, and of general terms that comprehend these, without any peculiar mental state denoted by the general term, distinct from those separate sensations or perceptions which the particular objects, comprehended under the term, might individually excite, — it seems tome that the very statement of the opinion itself is almost a sufficient confutation, since the very invention of the gen- eral term, and the extension of it to certain objects only, not to all objects, implies some reason for this limitation, — some feeling of general agreement of the objects included in the class, to distinguish them from the objects not in- cluded in it, which is itself that very general notion pro- fessedly denied. As long as some general notion of cir- cumstances of resemblance is admitted, I see very clearly how a general term may be most accurately limited ; but if this general notion be denied, I confess that I cannot discover any principle of limitation whatever. Why have certain objects been classed together, and not certain other objects, when all have been alike perceived by us ; and all, therefore, if there be nothing more than mere percep- tion in the process, are capable of receiving any denomi- nation which we may please to bestow on them? Is it ar- bitrarily and without any reason whatever, that we do not class a rose-bush with birds, or an elephant with fish ? and if there be any reason for these exclusions, why will not GENERAL ABSTRACT IDEAS- 161 it is found — and how it can be made accordant with his' system ? Must it not be that the rose-bush and a sparrow, thougli equally perceived by us, do not excite that gener- al notion of resemblance which the term bird is invented to express — do not seem to us to have those relations of a common nature, in certain respects, which lead us to class the sparrow and the ostrich, however different in other re- spects, as birds ; or the petty natives of our brooks and rivulets with the mighty monsters of the deep, under one general and equal denomination ? If this be the reason, there is more, in every case, than perception, and the giv- ing of a general name ; for there is a peculiar state of mind — a general relative feeling — intervening between the perception and the invention of the term, which is the only reason that can be assigned for that very inven- tion. Can the Nominalist then assert, that there is no feeling of the resemblance of objects, in certain respects, which thus intervenes between the perception of them as separate objects, which is one stage of the process, and the comprehension of them under a single name, which is another stage of the process, — or must he not rather con- fess, that it is merely in consequence of this interven- ing feeling we give to the number of objects their gen- eral name, to the exclusion of the multitudes of objects to which we do not apply it, as it is in consequence of certain other feelings, excited by them individually, we give to each separate object its proper name, to the exclu- sion of every other object ? To repeat the process, as al- ready described to you, we perceive two or more objects, — we are struck with their resemblance in certain respects. We invent a general name to denote this feeling of resem- blance, and we class under this general name, every par- ticular object, the perception of which is followed by the same feeling of resemblance, and no object but these alone. If this be a faithful statement of the process, — and for its fidelity I may safely appeal to your consciousness, — the doctrine of the Nominalists is not less false than that of the Realists. It is false, because it excludes that general feeling of resemblance, — the relative suggestion, — which 1M OF PARTICULAR AND is all that the general name itself truly designates, and without which therefore, it never would have been invent- ed ; while the doctrine of the Realists is false, by insert- ing in the process those supposed separate entities, which form no part of it. The one errs, as I have already said, by excess, the other by deficiency." §. 137. Of histories of philosophical opinions. In connection with the view, which Iras here been giv- en of different opinions on the subject of general ideas, we are naturally called to remark on certain histories of philosophical opinions in general. Although the great principles of intellectual philosophy are for the most part well settled, and whatever discrepancies apparently exist, are owing in a majority of cases rather to differences of statement than differences of belief; still it is sometimes important to look back and see what has in former times been said and thought; an exercise, which cannot fail to evince the strength of prejudices, the many errours to which the understanding is exposed, and the necessity of cherishing a sincere love of truth. In the following works will be found various historical and critical remarks concerning the dispute on general or universal ideas, as also the history of other philosophical controversies and opinions almost without number. The greater part of them at present excite not the least interest, except as memo- rials of the struggle of the human mind in past ages. (1) BayWs Historical and Critical Dictionary. This work was first published in two folio volumes in 1697. It consists of two parts ; one of which is a concise narration of facts, and the other a sort of commentary on them. The work contains very numerous illustrations of the his- tory of philosophy, and treats many difficult subjects with independence and ability. It has, however, this serious disadvantage,' that the writer appears to have been wanting in those strict moral and religious principles, without which it is impossible even for the most extensive literary attain- ments to secure respect, and still less, to be the means of permanent usefulness. GENERAL ABSTRACT IDEAS. 157 (2) Brucker's Critical History of Philosophy. This work was first published at Leipsic in 1774 in Latin, ex- tending through five quarto volumes. The author gives a biographical sketch of the lives of different ancient and mo- dern philosophers, reviews their writings, and explains their particular systems. This history, the result of fifty years 1 labour of a hard student, is particularly valuable, as a book of reference for those, who have devoted themselves ta philosophical researches. There has been published an abridged translation of it into English by Enfield. (3) M> Do Get undoes History of Philosophical Systems, first published in 1802, is in French, but is frequently re- ferred to by English writers on these subjects. M. De Ge- rando does not undertake to give a complete account of the .progress of intellectual science ; his main object seems to be to recapitulate the opinions of the most emi- nent ancient and modern philosophers on a particular point, viz., the sources and certainty of knowledge. His work is divided into five periods. The first period com- prises the time anterior to Socrates ; the second comes down to the age of Cicero ; in the third, which ends with the close of the seventh century, we have an account of the decline and fall of philosophy ; the fourth reaches from the seventh century to the time of Des Cartes and Bacon ; the fifth and last continues the subject to the present century.* (4) Stewart's Progress of Metaphysical, Ethical, and Po- litical Philosophy. This work originally appeared in the form of a Preliminary Dissertation to the supplemental volumes of the Encyclopaedia Britannica ; and includes merely the period since the revival of letters in Europe. As one reason for limiting his retrospect to a period ex- tending no further back than the revival of letters, the *A knowledge of the French language is so common, that this work may well be supposed to be accessible to many English read- ers. But this is not the only reason for mentioning it here. It has already been translated into a number of languages ; and is of such value as naturally to lead one to anticipate, that it may soon appear in a vernacnlar dress. 21 15b GENERAL ABSTRACT IDEAS. writer expresses an opinion, that the sciences, of which he treats, present but little matter for useful remark, prior to the time of Lord Bacon. Perhaps no one of the pub- lications of Mr. Stewart is more worthy the student's at- tention than this ; whether we consider the richness and ease of his style, or that admirable discrimination, with which he detects the characteristic traits both of writers and of systems. There are also, both in the English and foreign languages, other works, and treatises of great- er or less extent and value, which may profitably be refer- red to, in examining the history of philosophical opinions. A particular account of many of them is given in the work of De Gerando, Pt. I. ch. ii. Note. On the particular subject of universal or gen- eral abstract ideas, see Des Cartes, Principia, Pt. I. <§. 59. ; Berkeley's Principles of Human Knowledge, Intro- duc. §. 9 — 22. ; Brucker's History of Philosophy, Bk. VII. ch. in. §. 2.; Bayle, Art. Abelard, Note C. ; De Geran- do's Systems of Philosophy (Histoira Cemparee) Pt. I. chs. xxvi, xxvin. ; Locke's Essay, Bk. 'III. ch. hi. §. 9., Bk. IV. ch. vii. <$,. 9. ; Adam Smith's Ancient Logic and Met- aphysics ; Stewart's Elements, Ch. IV. ; Brown's Philoso- phy of the Mind, Lect. XLVII. CHAPTER TWELFTH. LANGUAGE. (I) NATURAL SIGNS. ■§. 13?. Our mental states are to be made known. It is clearly the intention of Providence, that our in- ternal experiences, our thoughts and feelings shall be com- municated to others The saying is not more common than true, that man is not born for himself alone. Not only his friends, but his country, and the whole human race possess an interest in him. Hence not merely our thoughts and feelings in themselves considered, but the mode, in which they are to be communicated from one- individual to another, becomes an interesting subject ot inquiry. The mode, or rather the instrument, by means of which this communication takes place, is language in its various forms. We accordingly interrupt for a few chapters the direct history of the origin, combination, and laws of thought, in order to examine its signs. This is a subject so intimate- ly connected with the theory and effectual action of the intellect, as to claim and receive an undisputed place in the philosophy of the mind. We use the term Language in its most general sense, as standing for all signs of thought ; and, therefore, shall consider it under the most striking forms of Natural signs, Oral or spoken signs, and Written signs. \j. 139. Thoughts first expressed by gestures and the countenance. We are first to consider natural signs, or such as a person would use, who was incapable of employing either 1W LANGUAGE. (I) NATURAL SIGNS. written signs or speech. Separate an individual in ve- ry early life from the human family, and let him grow up without any instruction in the use of the organs of speech, and it will be found, that he will be entirely ignorant in what way to employ them, except it be to utter a few inarticulate cries. The story of the wild boy, found in the forests of Lithuania in 1695, (Condillac, Origin of Knowledge, Pt. I.,) may be referred to, among other in- stances, by way of confirming this remark. The same in- ability of articulate speech is noticed in those unfor- tunate individuals, who are born deaf, and are com- monly known under the name of deaf and dumb persons. But these persons are not without a language, al- though they are incapable of articulate speech, and although we may suppose them ignorant of all artificial aids whatever of communicating thought. They have the visible and impressive language of gestures and of the coun- tenance. The expression of the countenance, exclusive of the eye, depends chiefly upon two things, the change of colour in the face, and the movement or play of the muscles. But in most cases we find the intimations of the face, combined with movements of other parts of the body. Thus, the flushed countenance, with the hand up- lifted, denotes in general an emotion of rage. In admira- tion or wonder the countenance is animated with a quick play of the blood and muscles; the hand is elevated ; and the body thrown back. A look, slightly illuminated with a smile, with none, or but a small motion of the body, is an indication of satisfaction or peace. But without entering into a full description of these signs, it may be said with great certainty, that fear, contempt, derision, anxiety, grief, disappointment, malice, feelings of the ludicrous, deep thought, terrour, despair, have their natural signs. With- out the aid either of written or spoken language, they can be distinctly expressed by means of gestures, inarticulate sounds, and changes in the countenance. In proof we refer to the deaf and dumb. These unfortunate persons are generally found to have a language of their own ; -that is, they have a system of signs, which they have been LANGUAGE. (I) NATURAL SIGNS. 161 Jed to invent, either by their wants, or because they have found pleasure in the employment. But this system is founded in nature ; it employs those elements of expres- sion, which God has given to all mankind, and seldom goes beyond mere bodily movements, and the language of the looks. There have been instances of a number of in- dividuals in the same family, unable to hear or to articu- late. It is exceedingly pleasing to witness their quick- ness of invention in framing their vocabulary of gestures, and their readiness in conversing with each other by means of them. They interpret an inclination of the head, a movement of the hand or arm, a contraction of the muscles of the face, even the slightest motion of the finger, as readily as another person, who is able to hear, can interpret the most familiar names, with which he has been acquainted from infancy. What a striking decla- ration do we here have, thaf in the defect of oral and written signs of thought, nature has a resource, which is antecedent to all other forms of language ! There are some slight gestures, which appear to be arbitrary, but which are found to be susceptible of being traced back and resolved into others. Mr Stewart re- marks, that an instructer of Deaf and Dumb informed him, that his pupils, (whatever part of the country they came from,) agreed in most instances, in expressing as- sent by holding up the thumb, and dissent by holding up the little finger. " It can be explained (he observes) only by supposing, that these gestures are abbreviations of those signs, by which assent and dissent are generally ex- pressed in the language of nature ; and, in truth, the process by which they were introduced may be easily con- ceived. For, the natural sign of assent is to throw the body open, by moving the hand from the breast with the palm towards the body and the thumb uppermost. The natural sign of dissent is the same movement, with the back of the hand towards the body, and the little finger uppermost. The former conveys the idea of cordiality, of good humour, and of inviting frankness ; the latter of fii-^like and aversion. If two dumb persons were left to 1 63 LANGUAGE. (I) NATURAL SIGNS. converse together, it is reasonable to suppose that they- would gradually abridge their natural signs for the sake of despatch, and would content themselves with hinting at those movements, which could be easily anticipated from the commencement ; and in this manner might raise those apparently arbitrary marks of assent and dissent, which have just been mentioned-" §. 140. Illustrations of the great power of natural signs. It seems to have been wisely and kindly ordered, that there should be a Natural language. The beneficent re- sults of this provision cannot be misunderstood in the case of persons, who are by some accident cast among a peo- ple, whose oral or written language is unknown; and es- pecially in its connection with the deaf and doib. These persons come to their instructers, ignorant, speechless, wanting in confidence. The pupil and instructer have never before seen each other, and they are unable to com- municate, either by means of speech, or of written signs. But nature speaks in the dialect of the countenance and of action; they comprehend each other's meaning; the. pupil enters on his course of instruction, and in a single year learns by the aid of signs the meaning of thousands of words. This vis unquestionably ascribing great efncacy to natural signs ; but not greater than seems to be war- ranted by the following authentic statements. "Id the summer of. 1818, a Chinese young man passed through Hartford, Connecticut, in which place there is an asylum for the education of the deaf and dumb. He was so ignorant of the English language that he could not ex- press in it his most common wants. The principal of the asylum invited the stranger to spend an evening within its walls, and introduced him to Mr. Laurent Clerc, the cele- brated deaf-and-dumb pupil of the Abbe Sicard, and at that time an assistant teacher in the asylum. The object of this introduction was, to ascertain to what extent Mr. Clerc, who was entirely ignorant of the Chinese language, could conduct an intelligent conversation with the for- eigner, by signs and gestures merely. The result of the , LANGUAGE. (1) NATURAL SIGNS. I&) experiment surprised all who were present. Mr. Clere learned from the Chinese many interesting facts respecting the place of his nativity, his parents and their family, his former pursuits in his own country, his residence in the United States, and his notions concerning God and a fu- ture state. By the aid of appropriate signs also, Mr. Clerc ascertained the meaning of about twenty Chinese words. When the conversation began, the stranger seem- ed to be bewildered with amazement at the novel kind of language that was addressed to him. Soon, however, he became deeply interested in the very expressive and sig- nificant manner which Mr. Clerc used to make himself understood ; and before one hour had expired, a very quick and lively interchange of thought took place be- tween these so lately entire strangers to each other. The Chinese himself began to catch the spirit of his new deaf- and-dumb acquaintance, and to employ the language of the countenance and gestures with considerable effect to make himself understood. " About a year afterwards the principal of the asylum visited Cornwall, a small village in Connecticut, where upwards of twenty heathen youths were receiving education under the patronage of the American Board of Commis- sioners for Foreign Missions. With the consent of the principal of that institution, the principal of the asylum one evening gathered round him several of these interes- ting strangers, from the islands of the South Sea, and from different tribes of the North-American Indians. The ob- ject of the interview was, to ascertain how far a conversa- tion could be conducted with them merely by signs and gestures. The result was similar to that in the case of !\Ir. Clerc's intercourse'with the Chinese. Questions were proposed to them on a variety of topics relating to their own individual history and that of their families, to the state of manners and morals in their respective countries, and to their early religious knowledge. For example, Thomas Hoopoo, a native of Owhyhee, was asked if his parents were living ; how many brothers and sisters he had; when he left his native shores: whether his coun- 164 LANGUAGE. (I) NATURAL SIGNS. trvmen worshipped idols, and sacrificed human victims ; how the women were treated by the men ; what was the climate of his country; what its productions; with many inquiries of a similar nature, all of which he well com- prehended, and to many of which he replied by signs. The meaning, too, of a number of Owhyhean words was ascer- tained by signs merely, and found to correspond with the import, which had been previously assigned to them in a dictionary which had been for some time preparing in the school ; and indeed, in a variety of instances, the most correct meaning of such words was established, by the medium of signs, in a more satisfactory way than had been previously attempted. Throughout this conversa- tion the heathen youths appeared to take a deep interest, and to have a peculiar aptitude, both in comprehending the signs which were proposed to them, and in inventing such as were necessary for a reply. " On the testimony of several of the South-Sea island- ers, it appeared, that not a few of the signs employed in the instruction of the deaf and dumb, are precisely the same which their countrymen use to supply the deficiency of, or to give emphasis to, their own comparatively barren language ; — a fact which had indeed been anticipated, from the circumstance so often observed by the teachers of the deaf and dumb among their pupils, that mutes who meet for the first time are able to understand each other fully on many common topics; the Author of nature hav- ing laid the foundation in the very constitution of our spe- cies, and in the structure and processes of the visible cre- ation, for a universal expression of the same ideas, on a vast variety of subjects, by similar signs."* §. 141. Of the art of Pantomime among- the Romans. The Ancients understood the power and extensive ap- plication of natural signs. In the art of pantomime, which was in high favour among them, thoughts were exhibited by gesture and the countenance merely, without words. *T. H. Gallaudet's Essays on the Language of signs in the (London) Christian Observer, Sept. and Oct. 1836. LANGUAGE. (I) NATURAL SIGNS. 1<>5 The Romans employed three systems of gestures, one for tragedy, another for comedy, and a third for such sa- tirical poems, as were thought to be suited for public ex- hibitions. There were actors in pantomime, (among oth- ers the names of Pylades and Bathillus have come down to us,) who made it their whole business to address the peo- ple in this species of dumb show, and they succeeded in making themselves understood. It was before systems of gestures were fully agreed upon, as signs of thought, and pantomime had come to be an art, that the contest be- tween Cicero and Roscius, which has been so often men- tioned, took place. Cicero pronounced a period, which he had composed; Roscius followed and gave the mean- ing in action ; Cicero varied his expressions, and Roscius as readily varied his gestures. And whether Cicero with words could convey the meaning with more exactness and emphasis, than Roscius could without them, has been made a question.* §. 142. Of the system of signs existing among the North American Savages. It is an interesting fact in relation to the present sub- ject, that a system of natural signs is affirmed, on the most respectable authority, to exist among the Savage tribes throughout North America, which is universally under- stood by them. A considerable catalogue of these signs has been given to the public by persons, who have travel- led and resided among the aboriginal inhabitants, and have thus had ample opportunities of knowing. The fol- lowing are instances. (1) Sun. The fore-finger and thumb are brought together at tip so as to form a circle, and held up towards the sun's track. To indicate any particular time of the * Notwithstanding the inroads, which, in civilized society, have been made in modern times on natural language, there are still some remains of it to be met with. For instance, the shaking of hands is understood to denote cordiality ; rising up, on a person's entering or leaving the room, is indicative of respect ; the ceremony of bow- ing indicates the same thing; and in conversation a shake of the head intimates doubt or dissent, while an inclination of it or nod e* presses, that we agree with the pppakpr. 1G6 LANGUAGE. (I) NATURAL SIGNS. day, the hand with the sign of the sun is stretched out towards the east horizon, and then gradually elevated, to show the ascent of that luminary, until the hand arrives in a proper direction to indicate the part of the heavens, in which the sun will be at the given time. (2) Night or Sleeping. The head, with the eyes closed, is laterally inclined for a moment upon the hand. As many times as this is repeated so many nights are indicated. (3) Com- bat. The clenched hands are held about as high as the neck, and five or six inches asunder, then waved two or three times laterally, to show the advances and retreats of the combatants ; .after which the fingers of each hand are suffered to spring from the thumb towards each other, as in the act of sprinkling water, to represent the flight of mis- siles.- — (4) Prisoner. The fore-finger and thumb of the left hand are held in the form of a semicircle, opening tow- ards, and near the breast ; and the fore-finger of the right, representing the prisoner, is placed upright within the curve, and passed from one side to the other, in order to show, that it will not be permitted to pass out, etc. The epithet, symbolic, is sometime* applied to such combinations of gestures as these ; but appears to be more generally applied to representative actions, which are either more formal and complicated, or in which the re- semblance to the thing signified is less obvious, however simple the action may be in itself. So that symbols, (if there be truly any distinction worthy of being retained,) differ rather in degree than in kind ; implying either great- er complexity, or greater remoteness between the senti- ment and the action, than in ordinary imitative gestures. All travellers among our Savage tribes furnish illustra- tions of symbolic actions, although until recently they have not been generally aware of the existence of a system of imitative signs by mere gesture. They accordingly tell us, that friendly and peaceable sentiments are symbol- ically intimated, when a stranger appears among a tribe, carrying or smoking a large pipe of clay or marble, adorn- ed with feathers, which the Indians call a calumet. The method of confirming a treaty of peace is also symbolical. LANGUAGE. (I) NATURAL SIGNS. i«? it being done by means of what the Savages call a belt of wampum. This belt is composed of shells of different colours, wrought into the shape of beads, which are strung upon thongs and strongly united together. The parties concerned hold the ends of the belt, and are thereby un- derstood to signify reciprocal truth and sincerity. §. 143. Of the symbolic exhibitions of the Hebrews. Symbolical action is known to have been frequently employed in Oriental countries, owing in some measure to the great vivacity and suppleness of the people. Those, who are acquainted with the Bible, know how frequently it was resorted to among the ancient Hebrews. It will be sufficient merely to allude to the following instances, which may be more fully understood by a reference to the Scriptures. Elisha directs Joash to shoot arrows out of a window eastward. Jeremiah, acting under divine di- rection, hides the linen girdle in the hole of a rock near Euphrates ; he breaks a potter's vessel in the sight of the people ; he puts on bonds and yokes, and casts a book into Euphrates. Ezekiel weighs his beard, delineates the siege of Jerusalem on a tile, &c. It has sometimes been thought, that such symbolic ac- tions were below the dignity of the prophetic office. In the view of the opposers of the Bible, they have appeared mean, absurd, and fanatical. But it ought to be remem- bered, that it was the spirit of the times, the feeling of the people themselves, which dictated those exhibitions. And to say the least, it is arrogant -and unreasonable in any persons to set up the feelings and practice of their own period, to guide them in the estimation of the actions of individuals in all the ages preceding; §. 144. Of the instinctive interpretation of certain natural signs. The meaning of many of those signs, which are called natural, is learnt from experience. The action being a representative or imitation of the thing itself, it necessari- ly suggests whatever is intended to be signified. But there are some, which appear to be understood instinctive- 168 LANGUAGE. (I) NATURAL SIGNS. ly, and of course independently of experience j for in- stance, a smile, or frown, or the signs of terror. The opinion, that there is to a certain extent an original or in- stinctive interpretation of signs is maintained by writers on the following grounds. (1) The power of interpre- ting such signs is noticed at a very early period, long be- fore the ability to interpret arbitrary signs. Children un- derstand the meaning of smiles and frowns, of a soothing or threatening tone of voice at a time of life, when they cannot be supposed capable of so much observation as to remark the connection between a passion and its exter- nal effect. (2) Those signs, which are maintained to be susceptible of an instinctive interpretation, affect us more than others. The passions of hatred, love, and anger, in- terest us much more strongly, when they are represented in the countenance, than when they are expressed by mere written or spoken words. So that unquestionably we give to some natural signs a significancy, which we do not, and cannot give to others, and still less to those forms of lan- guage, which are purely arbitrary. This being the case, it seems to be reasonable to conclude, that the mind has an original power of interpreting to some extent. (3) This pewer seems to be necessary as an introductory step to the formation of oral and alphabetical language. Arti- ficial language, whether we regard it as written or spoken, is arbitrary, and a matter of mere agreement. But if it were not of divine original, as some have contended, it is evident, that there must have been some antecedent signs, by means of which such agreement was first formed.* And we can think of no instrument, which could have been employed to this end, except the instinctive power of in- terpreting those signs of gesture, tones of voice, and move- * These considerations may be satisfactory to the minds of most persons ; still there are some, who profess to doubt of the existence of this power. Among other dissenters from the more commonly re- ceived opinion, is Dr. Priestly, who has remarked on the subject at Sect. XI. of his Examination of Reid. But the amount of his ar- gument can be summed up in this brief statement, that his own chil- dren, (which might have been the case,) were in his opinion with- out the ability in question, LANGUAGE. (I) NATURAL SIGNS. M ments of the countenance, which we find from the earliest period of life to be expressive of emotions and the passions. §. 145. Considerations on the use of Natural signs. Before dismissing the subject of this chapter, it re- mains to be remarked, that it is one of nt> little practical importance, although it may often be thought otherwise. An attention to natural signs could hardly fail to be of advantage in infant schools, and in all cases of instruc- tion of very young children. The knowledge, which is suited to their minds, is that, which we have already des- cribed as having an external origin. Consequently, the objects or actions, with which they are to be made ac- quainted, must be presented to the sight, or some other of the senses. But in the absence of objects, the instruc- tor, if he have studied the language of natural signs will be able to convey the meaning of many words by gestures ; a method, which will secure the purpose designed, and will not be waiumg in interest to the little pupils. " Notwithstanding (says Dugald Stewart) the decline of natural language in consequence of the use of artificial signs, the acquaintance, which we still have with the for- mer, (however imperfect,) is of essential service in teach- ing children the meaning of the latter. This may be ea- sily exemplified by first reading over to a child one of iEsop's fables without taking your eye from the book, or using any inflection of voice ; and afterwards telling h ; m the same story with the commentary of your face, and gestures, and tones." Again, the doctrine of natural signs is deserving of greater attention than it has receiv- ed, when it is considered in connection with the Deaf and Dumb. No small acquaintance with them is implied in being able to fix upon such as are suitable in the in- struction of these unfortunate persons. And the worth of such acquaintance, therefore, can be conjectured from its subserviency to their improvement and happiness. Further, some knowledge of natural signs might be found profitable to all travellers and sojourners among nations of an unknown tongue, and among others to Mis- 370 LANGUAGE, (I) NATURAL SIGNS. sionaries. One of the American missionaries In India, remarking on the acquisition of languages, observes, that, in receiving lessons from his instructer, they were often compelled to resort to signs and gestures, in order at all to understand each other. These are not unimportant considerations,and there is ground for making this remark also, that a knowledge of natural signs is subservient in some measure to the success of the fine or liberal arts, particularly sculpture, painting,and oratory. The arts of sculpture and painting are addressed to the eye ; and one great object in those arts is to express emo- tions. Those, therefore, who practise them, must study the connection between the illuminations of the eye, the colour and muscular movements of the face, and the gen- eral attitude which are the natural outward signs, and the internal feelings which correspond to them. It is not possible, that a single trait of character or even a sin- gle feeling should be conveyed by those admirable arts, except by means of natural signs. And hence the obvious conclusion, that no man can excel in them without a knowledge of that form of language. Similar re- marks will apply to the orator. He addresses the eye as well as the ear ; and whenever he combines the language of looks, tones, and gestures with the arbitrary signs of ar- ticulate speech, he cannot fail to increase the interest of his hearers. CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. 5- 146. Remarks on the original formation of oral signs. JtIkn' are not left, in communicating their thoughts. to the assistances merely, which are furnished by natural signs. Possessed of the organs of speech, they are capable of forming signs, which are addressed to the ear, and are from their very nature in a great degree convention- al and arbitrary. Such is the difficulty of employing the complicated machinery of articulation so as to form words, that it has been a doubt in the minds of some, whether men, left to themselves, would ever have acquired this power ? After the power has been once attained, oth- ers may acquire it, as we daily see in the case of children, by a long and laborious process of imitating ; but it unde- niably demands some fortitude of belief to persuade our- selves, that the unaided faculties of the mind were equal to the original acquisition. Hence it has been the opinion of the persons above al- luded to, that we are indebted for the power of forming oral signs, or of speaking, to the direct interference of the Deity himself in behalf of rW first parents. This is un- doubtedly a matter of opinion, but not of clear and deci- ded proof. The Bible, which is designed rather to sub- serve the moral and relijious interests of mankind, than to gratify antiquarian curiosity, does not set us at rest on this point. It does indeed say, that God brought the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air to Adam to see what he would call them; but it is not said, that God gave tho 172 LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. names himself, or that he directly aided Adam in giving them ; although the supposition, that such assistance was granted, may be held to be supported by that beneficence, which is continually manifested in the dealings of the Su- preme Being with his creatures. §. 147. Oral signs or words are in general arbitrary. In oral language, sounds stand for things, or rather the ideas of things ; but there is no resemblance between the sign, and the thing signified. The fact, that articu- lated sounds, or words, are representative of the states of the mind, is founded on arbitrary agreement. And as this agreement necessarily involves the consent of the great mass of any people, by whom oral signs are employ- ed, the alledged confession of the emperor Augustus was made with good reason, that he was individually unable to introduce a si lgle new word into the Latin tongue. If this statement were not correct, if words had any nat- ural fitness for that purpose, for which they are employed, and were not conventional, there would be but one lan- guage ; all nations would use the same words, instead of the English employing the word, white ; the Latin lan- guage, albus ; the French, blanc ; and the German, weiss for the same thing, with, a similar diversity in the expres- sion of other ideas, and in other languages. It ought to be observed, however, that there is a slight exception to this general view of the arbitrary nature of oral signs. We allude to a class of terms, of which the WOrds, CRASH, TWANG, BUZZ, WHISTLE, SHRILL, RATTLE, may be mentioned .as specimens. There is evidently some re- semblance between these words, as they are enunciated by the voice, and the things, folr which they stand ; in other languages, some words, similar to these, that is, having a like relation to the things, for which they stand, are to be found. But with this exception, which is one of very limited extent, words are truly arbitrary and conventional signs, formed in the progressive history of the human race on such occasions of want or of convenience as seemed to call for them. The.^e occasions, on which words were first LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. ir* employed, and their arrangement int^ classes, (what gram- marians call parts of speech,) merit a brief consideration. §. 148. Words at first few in number and limited to particular objects. In the infancy of the human race, men were without a knowledge of the arts; they had no laws, hut the dictates of conscience, no regularly instituted form of government j they lived under the open sky, except when they retreat- ed from the storm or the sunshine to the shade of trees or the cooler recesses of caverns. Their ideas, therefore, were few; the articulate sounds, which either the active ingenuity of nature, or the special interference of Provi- dence had taught them not only to frame, but to employ as the instituted signs of things, must have been few also ; even more so, than their ideas. The few names, which they were able thus early to employ, related solely to the objects, with which they were immediately and particularly conversant ; they had a name for the tree, under which they sat at noon ; for the cavern, to which they occasionally retired; for the fruit, which relieved their hunger ; and for the running water, at which they slaked their thirst. Afterwards they were led to form general names, standing for a number of objects, and probably in the following manner. §. 149. Of the formation of general names or appellatives. Naturally possessed of too much activity of spirit, to rest satisfied with remaining in one place, or to quiet their curiosity with a small number of objects, they engage in some new enterprise, explore new tracts of country, and thus enlarge their knowledge. In going from place to place, they necessarily meet a::ain with those particular objects, with which they had formed such an intimate ac- quaintance in their first residence. They meet with oth- er trees, with other animals, with other caves and foun- tains, which they at once perceive to be of the same kind with those, that have previously come under their obser- vation. The recurrence of these new objects instantly calls up 174 LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. the others. This happens by a law of their nature, which they cannot control ; and the recollection is the more in- tense, as, in the infancy of things, curiosity is more alive, and astonishment more readily and deeply felt. The ob- jects, with which they had become first acquainted, could not be recalled without a remembrance, at the same time, of the names, which they had given them. As they per- ceive the objects, which they now behold, to be the same in kind with those, which they first knew, they at once conclude, and very naturally, that they have an equal right to the names with those, to which those names were first appropriated. They, therefore, exclaim, a tree ! a cave! a fountain ! whenever and wherever they meet them. And thus what was at first a particular term, and was em- ployed to express only an individual, has its meaning ex- tended, and comes in time to stand for a whole class of objects. Such, there can hardly be a question, was the origin of general names ; and the statement is not only agreea- ble to the natural course of things, but is indirectly con- firmed by many incidents. When the Spaniards first ar- rived at a certain region, bordering on the gulph of Mex- ico, and found, that the soil was rich, the dwellings good, the people numerous ; they cried out, it is another Spain, and after that it bore the name of New Spain. When they first sailed along the coast of Colombia, they noticed an Indian village, built on piles, to raise it above the stag- nant water, and being from that circumstance reminded of the mistress of the Adriatic, they called that region Venezuela (Little Venice,) which is the name of the province to this day. And ^Js on the same principle, that people so often find thernselves in this country giving names to the objects around them, in allusion to what ex- ists on some other continent ; calling a large river, anoth- er Thames, and mountains of great altitude, the American Alps. So readily does the mind connect together things, which are remote, and seek for analogies between what is novel and what is familiar. LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. 175 f 150. The formation of appellatives the result of a feeling of resernblanre. We discover, in the way which has been mentioned, the origin of appellatives or common names, (in treatises of a scientific nature more commonly termed genriu and si-kciks,) the formation of* which has sometimes been con- sidered a point of difficult solution. Taking the state- ment, in the last section, to be the true one, it follows, that there is, previous to the giving of the common name, a feeling or perception of resemblance, prevailing among those objects, to which the common name is applied. If there had not been, between the perception of the ob- jects and the giving of the common name, an intermedi- ate feeling of resemblance, the primitive framers of lan- guage would have been as likely to have assigned the ap- pellative to the cave and the mountain, or to any other things altogether dissimilar, as to those resembling ob- jects, to which it was assigned. When, therefore, those persons, who hold to the doc- trine of the Nominalists, say, that all general ideas are but names, they appear to mistake ; — there is something more than the mere name, viz., that feeling of resemblance, which has been mentioned, and which, although it is dif- ficult to explain it, except it be by referring each one to his own intellectual experience, is clearly too important a circumstance to be hastily overlooked, and thrown out of the question. (See §. 130.) §. 151. Our earliest generalizations often incorrect. When man first opens his eye on nature, (and in the infancy of our race, he finds himself a novice, wherever he goes,) objects so numerous, so various in kind, so novel and interesting, crowd upon his atttention ; that, attempt- ing to direct himself to all at the same time, he loses sight of their specifical differences, and blends them to- gether, more than a calm and accurate examination would justify. And hence our earliest classifications, the prim- itive genera and species, are often incorrectly made. Subsequently, when knowledge has been in 176 LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. measure amassed, and reasoning and observation have been brought to a greater maturity, these errours are at- tended to ; individuals are rejected from species, where they do not properly belong, and species from genera. It may be of some consequence to remember this, as qualifying in some points of view the statement given in respect to the origin of generic ideas and names. Never- theless the general statement is abundantly confirmed by consciousness, reasoning, and various facts. Among other acts alluded to, the following has been often quoted. §. 152.' Illustration of our first classifications from the Savage3 of Wateeoo. The English navigator, Cook, in going from New Zea- land to the Friendly Islands, lighted on an Island, called Wateeoo. " The inhabitants (he says) were afraid to come near our cows and horses, nor did they form the least conception of their nature. But the sheep and goats did not surpass the limits of their ideas, for they gave us to un- derstand, they knew them to be birds." Captain Cook informs us, that these people were ac- quainted with only three sorts of animals, viz. dogs, hogs, and birds. Having never before seen any such animals as a cow or a horse, they beheld their great size and for- midable aspect with admiration ; filled with fear, they could not be induced to approach, and knew not what to call or to think of them. They noticed the goats and the sheep, and clearly saw, that they were different from the dogs and hogs, with which they had been acquainted. But how did it happen, that they called them birds ? There is no nation so rude and uncivilized, as not to have some few general terms, and how those general terms are formed, we have above explained. Having noticed a variety of birds in their waters and forests, the people of Wateeoo had undoubtedly found it necessary before this period to assign some general name or appellative to the flying animal, expressive of those resemblances, which evi- dently pervade the whole class. They called them, we : will suppose, birds. Knowing there was a great variety of them, and that they were of different sizes, they not un- LANGUAGE (II) ORAL SIGNS. 177 naturally applied the same term to the sheep and goats of the English. They knew not but there might be some new class of birds, which they had not hitherto noticed ; they saw no insuperable objection in the size of the sheep and goats; and their agility and power of climbing over rocks and steep ascents readily reminded them of the pow- er of flying, which they might imagine those animals had not yet thought proper fully to exhibit. But they could clearly have no thoughts of this kind in respect to cows and horses ; and as to hogs and dogs they had no generic term for them, having never known more than one variety or class, and having never been led to suspect, that there was any other. If any should be disposed to make strange of this clas- sification of these untutored Savages, a little reflection may perhaps diminish their admiration. There are classifica- tions to be found in the present improved state of the nat- ural sciences not more accurate than this ; — that arrange- ment, for example, which assigns to the same " class and ranks under one name the man, that walks upright and the whale that swims, the ant, that creeps, and the gnat, that flies." §. 153. Of the formation of verbs. In the exercise of their power of appointing articulate sounds as signs of thought, we now suppose men to have proceeded so far as to form general nouns or appellatives, and to employ them with facility. But they soon find, that there is need of another class of words, which are of great consequence both in the construction and the appli- cation of oral language, viz, verbs. As the ideas, expressed by verbs, concern actions rather than objects, and the attributes, affections, and re- lations of things rather than the things themselves, and cannot, therefore, be so easily defined to the understanding and fixed upon by it, words of this kind were not, we may suppose, so rapidly formed as appellatives, although some of them must have been of very early origin. Their origin may be illustrated in this way. Let it be 178 LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. admitted, that the primitive inhabitants have given names to certain wild animals ; Condillac supposes, that such names were given first, before those of trees, fountains, &c. It soon happens, as is very natural and reasonable to be imagined, that they see one of these animals, advancing towards them with great speed and apparent ferocity. Certainly they would have an idea of the motion of the animal, as something different from the animal itself; and if they could give a name to the animal, why not to the fact of his coming towards them or running from them, as the fact might be ? In the formation of the noun substantive or general term, they exclaimed, The tyger ! The lion ! and this ex- clamation became in time the common name. But now they discover a new attribute or action of the wild beast, which affects them strongly and deserves a distinct appel- lation, and, hence, they utter some new exclamation ; it may be conjectured, the word, comes, or rushes ; and the cry now is, tyger — rushes ! lion — comes ! The articulate sounds, which under such circumstances are adopted, whatever they may be, are eventually fixed upon, as the conventional and permanent representations of certain ac- tions, attributes, and affections of things, and in the matu- rity of society and of knowledge, when man finds all that he has learnt subjected to a more exact and scientific clas- sification, they are accordingly classed as verbs. §. 154. Of the formation of adjectives and other parts of speech. It has been conjectured, that nouns and verbs were, in time of origin, the earliest of all the parts of speech ; and, in truth, the hypothesis does not rest solely upon conjec- ture. It was the object of men at first to express their ideas, as they could ; and they reckoned it of but little consequence, whether they did it with great precision or elegance. Adjectives, conjunctions, adverbs, prepositions, relative pronouns, were introduced by degrees, as they were found to be needed; but nouns and verbs could nev- er be dispensed with. And in addition to this considera- tion, that these classes of words could not at anv time be LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. 170 dispensed with, there is much reason to suppose from a variety of investigations, that adjectives and some other subordinate parts of speech were derived either from verbs or substantives, and of course they must have been subse- quent in the period of their formation. Agreeably to this statement, it is found, that in the dia- lects of some savage tribes, those qualifying words,which we call adjectives or adnouns, do not exist. " The Mohegans (says an American writer) have no adjectives in all their language. Although it may at first seem not only singu- lar and curious, but impossible that a language should exist without adjectives, yet it is an indubitable fact." This fact, strange as it may seem at first, is undoubtedly consistent with what we notice in many of the most im- proved languages. Thus in the English we say, a clay col- our, a lead colour, a sea fish, a wine vessel, a gold ring. But clay, lead, sea, wine, gold are originally nouns, and arc still used as such. Wo here call them adjectives, and not nouns, merely because they are employed as subordi- nate to other nouns, and for the purpose of qualifying them. In other cases, adjectives can be traced back to verbs. Thus the adjective proud is ascertained to be the Anglo- Saxon prut, which is the past participle of prytian. The adjective tale may also be traced to the Anglo-Saxon, being the past participle of the verb tilian, to lift up. The epithet rk;ht is from the past participle of the Latin verb reoo, to govern, or order. §. 155. Of the origin of conjunctions. The general doctrine, that nouns were first formed, af- terwards verbs, and that these were the sources of other classes of words, is strengthened by what we know in re- spect to that species of connectives, called conjunctions. The conjunction, if, was originally a verb in the im- perative mode, viz. gif, the imperative of the Saxon word, c.ifan, which is the same with the modern, English infini- tive, to give. If we consider the original import of the words in this sentence, viz. If ye love me. ye will keep my 180 LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. commandments, it will stand thus ; Give or grant this, viz. ye love me, ye will keep my commandments. The conjunctions, unless, lest, and else, are deriva- tives from the Saxon verb, lesax, to dismiss. The mean- ing, conveyed in this sentence, viz. Unless ye believe, ye shall not understand, may be thus analyzed ;— Dismiss, ye believe, (the circumstance of belief being out of the way,) ye shall not understand. The conjunction, though, was originally a verb in the imperative from the Saxon, thafiax, meaning to grant or allow. The word was originally thaf or THOF,and is thus pronounced by many of the common people in England and the United States to this day. This sentence, Though he slay me, I will trust in him, may be thus explained, in conformity with the etymological derivation ; — Allow, grant this, he will slay me, I will trust in him. §. 156. Further remarks on the meaning of conjunctions and other panicles. Observations, similar to those, which have been made in reference to conjunctions, will apply to other subordinate parts of speech, which, (including conjunc- tions,) are known under the name of particles. Accord- ingly it will be found on examination, that many preposi- tions were originally either nouns, or the participles of verbs. But this inquiry, interesting and important as it unquestionably is, cannot be further prosecuted here. It is proper, however, to guard the foregoing views by say- ing, that when a language is fully formed and settled upon, we would not advise a confident and indiscriminate refer- ence to the etymology of particles, in order to determine their present significancy ; although in many cases, as in those mentioned in the preceding section, such a reference throws light upon them. Whatever particles may have been at first, whether nouns or verbs, or whatever direct and positive significancy they may have once had, they are at last, when the language is fully formed, evidently without meaning, except so far as they are connected with other words. The proper use of them seems to be, to express the. LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. 1*1 states of our mind, as we pass from one clause of a sen- tence to another, or from one proposition to another ; also the restriction, distinction, and opposition of our thoughts. Admitting, then, that, in some instances, we can derive considerable aid from etymology, the surest method of as- certaining the meaning of this class of words, is by ob- serving the operations of our own minds, as we connect together our ideas in clauses, sentences, and consecutive propositions. §. 157. Of the origin of particular or proper names. Although general names or appellatives, as appeared in §. 148, were first applied to particular objects, as soon as they became general and were employed to denote classes of objects, they were no longer of use in the speci- fication of individuals. Their utility in that respect ne- cessarily ceased. Hence arose the class of substances or nouns, called particular or proper names, designed espe- cially to indicate individual objects. In ascertaining to what objects terms of this kind shall be assigned, it can only be said, that we give proper names to such things, as we have frequent and urgent occasion to mention ; no other rule can readily be laid down. We, accordingly, give particular names to rivers, lakes, cataracts, moun- tains, because we have frequent occasion to speak of them individually, of the Mississippi, the La Plata, the Alps, and the Appenines. There is still greater reason, why we should give names of this sort to our fellow beings, with whom we constantly associate, and on whom our happiness is in no small degree dependent. But the as- signation of proper names is far from being limited to men, or to rivers, or to mountains, or to cataracts. We continually meet with them. The merchant gives names to his vessels, the farmer to his oxen, the hunter to his dogs, and the jockey to his horses, on the same principles and for the same reason, that one river is called Ganges and another Danube, and that one man i^ »;ill<'d John. nnother William. 24 182 LANGUAGE. (II) ORAL SIGNS. §. 158. Principle of selection and significancy of proper names. But a question arises, On what principle are the name* themselves selected ? Proper names undoubtedly were at first expressive of some qualities or events, pertaining to the individuals or objects, to which they were applied. Thus in the Hebrew, probably the most ancient of lan- guages, the name Benjamin signifies a favourite or pros- perous son ; Joshua intimates help or deliverance ; Sam- uel implies a disposition to hear or obey God. In the Gaelic language, Cairbar (the strong man,) Morna (the well beloved,) Cathmor (great in battle,) Clutha or Clyde (the bending river,) might be referred to, as illustrating and confirming this view. In the more refined Latin, the famous name of Brutus alludes to the fact, that Lucius Junius acted the assumed part of a brutish or foolish per- son, in order to conceal his patriotic designs. And the hardly less renowned name of Coriolanus was first given in reference to the assault of Corioli by a Roman soldier. Multitudes of proofs of the same thing, that proper names were originally descriptive, occur in the languages and history of Savage tribes. Accordingly among many other similar instances, the words Mississippi and Niagara, which have no meaning for an Anglo-American, are significant in the Indian tongues ; the former signifying the great river, and the latter, the thunder of waters. CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. LANGUAGE. (Ill) WRITTEN SIGNS. 5. 159. Of the causes which led to the formation of written signs. J. he formation of oral language preceded that of written, or those artificial signs, which are addressed to the eye instead of the ear. But with all the advantage of oral language, merr could not long be insensible to the great convenience of a mode of communication, which did not require personal presence. Previous to resorting to written signs, the transmission of commands from one place to another required the agency of persons specially commissioned for that purpose. All history likewise was, at that period, necessarily embodied in traditions. The father, who had himself participated in great national events, told them toUhe son ; and the son repeated them in the ears of the succeeding generation. It was thus, that the poems of Ossian are said to have been handed down. It was thus according to Tacitus, (de moripus Germanorum, §. 2, 3.,) k that the legends and heroic songs of the ancient tribes of Germany were transmitted. And it was from traditions, repeated through succeeding ages, that Garcilasso composed the history of the Incas of Peru. But various mistakes were found to arise from tradi- tionary communications, and in all cases of messages be- tween persons at a distance from each other. Being, therefore, put upon seeking some other artificial method of making their thoughts known, men at last invented the different forms of written language. 184 LANGUAGE. (Ill) WRITTEN SIGxN'S. §. 160. The first artificial signs, addressed to the eye, were pictures. Although they did not find oral language suited to all their purposes, it seems to have been beyond their power, immediately to invent alphabets. They at first made visible sketches of actions and events precisely as they exist. The expression of ideas in this method has been more or less practised in all nations during the early periods of their history, and has been of considerable aid to them in making out the record of their early annals. We are in- formed in the Pentateuch, that figures were embroirdered in the curtains of the holy of holies ; and learn from the ancient poems of Homer, that Helen wrought in embroird- ery the pictures of the battles, in which the attractions of her own person had caused the Greeks and Trojans to be engaged. The expression of ideas by painting in co- lours, or by pictorial writing in other ways, is found to exist among the Savages of North America. Bows and arrows, hatchets, animals of various kinds are imprinted on the bodies of their chiefs, the indications of their calling and of their heroic qualities. A recent and somewhat striking illustration of this topic cannot well be omitted. It is found in the Journal of an expedition, that was sent out in 1820, to explore the north-western region of the United States. A part of the company, in passing across from the- river St. Louis to Sandy Lake, had missed their way together with their In- dian attendants, and could not tell, where they were. In consequence of being in this situation, the Indians, not knowing what might be the result, determined to leave at a certain place, a memorial of their journey for the infor- mation of such of their tribe, as might happen to come in that direction afterwards. In the party there was a mili- tary officer, a person whom the Indians understood to be an attorney, and a mineralogist ; eight were armed ; when they halted, they formed three encampments. The Sava- ges went to work and traced out with their knives upon a piece of birch bark a man with a sword for the officer, another human figure with a book in his hand for the law- LANGUAGE. (Ill) WRITTEN SIGNS. 185 yer, and a third with a hammer for the mineralogist ; three ascending columns of smoke denoted the three encamp- ments, and eight muskets, the number of armed men, &c* We find pictorial delineations to have been practised, in particular, among the original inhabitants of Mexico. It is related by historians, that when the Spaniards first landed upon that coast, the natives despatched messengers to the king, Montezuma, with a representation, painted on cloth, of the landing and appearance of the Europeans. The events and appearances, which they wished to des- cribe, were new to them, and these pictured representa- tions were the methods, which they adopted, in preference to any other, to express those ideas which they deemed it important the king should immediately possess. Pictures, as well as gestures, are a very imperfect mode of communicating ideas, as they must, from their very na- ture, be limited, in a great degree, to the description of external events. They fail in disclosing the connections of those events, in developing dispositions, intricate trains of thoughts, and, in some measure, the passions. Attempts were, therefore, soon made to introduce another form of writing called hieroglyphics. §. 1G1. Of hieroglyphical writing. Hieroglyphics, (from the Greek words, hieros, sa- cred, and gulpho, to carve,) are figures, sometimes paint- ed, or embroirdered, and at others, carved out ; used to express ideas. They diner from pictorial writing, chiefly, in being an abridgment of it, and also in this particular, that they select, by the aid of analogies more or less re- mote, figures for the purpose of expressing the less obvious mental emotions and abstract truths. Hieroglyphics were employed much more among the Egyptians than elsewhere, and the whole art probably arose in this way. The method of communicating thoughts by means of paintings, as among the Mexicans, and which, undoubtedly, existed among the Egyptians, previous to * Schoolcraft's Narrative Journal, Chap. vnr. lg§ LANGUAGE, (ill) WRITTEN SIGNS. the invention of hieroglyphics, was found inconvenient. The work was difficult in the execution, and bulky when it was completed; and there was, accordingly, very sooa an attempt at the abridgment of that method. Henc& the head was used to designate a man ; two or more hands with weapons opposed, a battle ; a scaling ladder, set against a wall, a siege ; a leafless tree, the winter. Thus the first step towards the formation of a hieroglyph- ical system was taken. But when those, who depended upon this mode of expressing their thoughts, came to cer- tain classes of the passions, the moral qualities, and a va- riety of abstract truths, they were under the necessity of finding out certain sensible objects, which bore or were supposed to bear some resemblance to such ideas, and, consequently, to go further in such instances, than a mere abridgment of pictorial delineations. The eye was se- lected, in reference to such analogies, to signify wisdom ; ingratitude was expressed by a viper, biting the hand, that gave it food ; courage, by a lion; imprudence, by a fly; cunning, by a serpent. As the number of ideas among the people increased, and became more and more abstract, greater ingenuity was required in the invention of hiero- glyphical characters to express them. Thus; a winged globe, with a serpent issuing from it, came to denote the universe, or universal nature. §. 162. Of the written characters of the Chinese. The third step in the progress of the human mind to- wards the invention of an alphabetical character, was the framing of such arbitrary signs, as are employed by the Chinese at the present day, It is a peculiarity of the written language of the Chi- nese, that it employs artificial and arbitrary delineations. Thus, for the idea, expressed by the English word, priso- ner, we have this delineation, which is less complicated than many others, viz. a figure, approaching in its form to a square with another figure nearly in the shape of an equi- lateral triangle, placed in the centre of it. The character, which, as it is articulated, is ell. and answers to the En- LANGUAGE. (Ill) WRITTEN SIGNS. tW *lish word ear, is somewhat in the shape of a parallelo- gram, crossed at nearly equal distances from the ends by lines, drawn at right angles to the sides. §. 1G3. The Chinese character an improvement on the hieroglyphical. As hieroglyphics are an improvement on the mode of expressing ideas by painting, the characters employed by the Chinese may with good reason be considered the next step in advance of hieroglyphics. It is a proof of this, that many of the characters, particularly those called ele- mentary, bore originally an analogy or resemblance to the objects, for which they stand. They were of course an- ciently hieroglyphics, although now arbitrary characters. The fact, on which this conclusion is founded, is ascer- tained by consulting ancient inscriptions on cups of ser- pentine stone, on vases of porcelain, on seals of agate, and the characters used in editions of very ancient books. The characters, which at present stand for the sun, moon, a field, and the mouth, are quite arbitrary, and we discover no analogy between them and the object ; but it was oth- erwise at first. The sun was originally represented by a circle with a dot in the centre ; the moon, by the seg- ment of a circle £ a field, by a figure resembling a square, set off into smaller divisions by two lines intersecting each other at right angles in the centre ; a mouth, by a figure, intended to represent the projection of the lips.* *The progress of the system of the Chinese from a hieroglyphic- al to a purely arbitrary character may be illustrated by the following story. A tavern-keeper in Hungary, unable to write, kept account of the ■urns due to him by strokes chalked on bis door ; to each series of strokes was annexed a figure to denote the customer, to whom they applied. The soldier was represented by the figure of a musket, the carpenter by a saw, the smith by a hammer. In a short time for convenience, the musket was reduced to a straight line, the saw to a zig-zag line, the hammer to a cross ; and thus began to be form- ed a set of characters, gradually receding from the original figure. The resemblance migat at last be entirely lost sight of. and the fig- ures become mere arbitrary mark?. 188 LANGUAGE. (Ill) WRITTEN SIGNS. §. 164. Artificial delineations employed as signs of sound. But it is to be recollected, that the artificial delinea- tions, towards the formation of which the human mind has thus gradually advanced, were used to denote ideas mere- ly, and not sounds or words as they are enunciated. The two systems of oral and written signs are supposed as yet to have been entirely independent of each other. It could not be long, however, before they would assume new re- lations, and written characters would gradually be em- ployed as significant of sounds, as well as of thought. — The idea, which we express by the word prisoner, had its eorrespondent delineation, its appropriate arbitrary figure ; it also had its appropriate oral sign or sound. The oral sign would by association call up both the thing itself and the written delineation. And on the other hand, the writ- ten character would naturally suggest both the idea and the oral sign. It was in this way, arbitrary written char- acters gradually gave up their original office, and came to stand as directly representative of sounds, and indi- rectly of ideas. This was coming back to the original in- tention of nature, which seems to have framed the powers of the human voice with the design of making them the predominant instrument of intellectual communication, whatever aid might be derived to them from other sources. §. 165. Formation of syllabic alphabets. But it was desirable, that every possible benefit should be derived from this new application of arbitrary written marks, as signs of words. The next step, therefore, was to fix upon such sounds as are elementary, and also upon certain characters to represent them. But to ascertain what sounds are elements and their exact number, was ex- ceedingly difficult ; and it is highly improbable, that it was done at once. The improvers of language, howev- er, not only succeeded in detecting monosyllables, but also in resolving compound words into their monosyllabic parts. The first alphabets, therefore, as is generally suppo- sed, were syllabic ; that is, were single syllables, consist- ing of a consonant sound, combined with a vowel sound. LANGUAGE. (Ill) WRITTEN SIGNS. 1*» The base of the-e syllables being single consonants, vari- ously modified by vowels, the distinction was at some sub- sequent period made between consonant and vowel sounds; characters and names were appropriated to each ; and al- phabets consequently assumed a new form. Such, af- ter many laborious investigations, seems to be the general sentiment as to the progress of human invention through the successive forms of pictures, hieroglyphics, the arbi- trary delineations of the Chinese, and syllabic alphabets to alphabets of letters. Abundant proofs are extant, that these various methods of artifieial writing have been em- ployed at different periods ; and such is their mutual re- lation it is not difficult to conceive of the progress of the human mind from one to the other.* Examine Warbnrton's Divine Legation, Vol. II. ; Condillac's Origin of Knowledge, Pt. II. Sect. I. ch. 4, 13. : Reid's Inquiry, Ch. IV. §• 2. V. ). 3. ; De Stutt Tra- cy's Ideology, (Ideologic,) Pt. II.; Tooke's Diversions of Purley ; Adam Smith's Considerations on the Formation of Languages ; Stewart, Vol. III. ; Edward's Observations on the Muhhekaneew (Mohegan) Indians ; and other Essays of American authors on the languages of the Aborigines. *Two recent facts throw light unon, and confirm the views of this chapter; (l.) The discovery, that there existed among the ancient Egyptians an alphabet, representative of simple sounds. The char- acters, standing for the sounds, are hieroglyphics or symbolical ima- ges of objects. On examination, it appears, that the hieroglyphics are taken from objects, the oral signs or names of which begin with the same sounds or articulations, which they axe themselves destined to represent. Thus, the image of an eagle, which in the Egyptian oral language is called Achom, became the sign of the vowel A. Hence it is probable, they began in the examination of this subject with names. It was by the analysis of these names, that ultimately the resolution of the human voice into its syllabic and primary ele- ments wa3 made. And in giving signs to sounds, they selected those hieroglyphics of objects, the names of which had particularly as- sisted'' them in their analysis. {%) The other fact referred to, is the recent invention of an alphabet of the Cherokee language by a member of that tribe, who appears to have received no instruction from others on the analysis of the human voice. The name of this ingenious man, who has done what some people have supposed be- yond the powers of the human mind under the most favourable cir- cumstances, is Gctst. His alphabet i9 syllabic ; the number of characters is eighty six, representing all the principal sounds in the Cherokee language. Each character stands for a single or double consonant sound, combined with a simple vowel sound. 25 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. RIGHT USE OF WORDS. ■j. 166. Imperfections of artificial language or words. W e now find men furnished, in addition to the lan- guage of natural signs, with oral and alphabetical language, and possessed of the great advantages which may be sup- posed to flow from this powerful instrument of mental ac- tion and communication. It may be said without exag- geration not only to express ideas, but to multiply them. At least, the facility of expressing and communicating thought by means of it sets men upon renewed thinking, and the result is wider views ; more correct principles ; moral, civil, and scientific improvement. And notwith- standing, it cannot be denied, that language, (we have reference in this chapter particularly to artificial language or words, which is a term standing both for oral and writ- ten signs,) is not without its imperfections. It may be said in general, to be imperfect, or to fail of its object, whenever the same ideas are not excited in the mind of the hearer or reader, as in that of the speaker or writer. Nor can we reasonably expect, when we look at the cause or foundation of this imperfection, that it will ever be otherwise ; since that cause will be found to exist ulti- mately in the condition of the mind and in our ideas, rath- er than in the words, which stand for them. This requires a brief illustration. It often happens, that men view the same object and actions in different lights ; whether it be owing to some. RIGHT USE OF WORDS. 19] difference in early education, or to local prejudices, or to some other cause, the fact itself is well known, and may well be considered, as frequently unavoidable. Hence different persons very often attach the same name to cer- tain objects and actions, when their views of those actions and objects are not the same. One has a greater number, than another, of simple ideas, entering into his complex notions, and perhaps, in the formation of the compound, they respectively give to those simple ideas a different re- lation to each other. The consequence, therefore, is, that, in such cases, as have now been mentioned, the names or words, which are used, necessarily fail of exciting in the hearer the same ideas, that exist in the mind of the speaker. Many of the disputes, which have existed in the world, (and the history of philosophical opinions shows, how nu- merous they have been,) have been caused by a misunder- standing of this sort; different persons using the same terms, when their ideas are not the same. In support of this remark, it will be enough merely to refer to the oftea repeated discussions upon virtue, conscience, faith, free will, obligation, religion, &c. But language, in so far as it is imperfect, fails of the great object, for which it was invented and agreed upon, and it, therefore, becomes im- portant to diminish the amount of tfiis failure and to guard against it, as far as possible. To this end, the follow- ing rules on the right use of words may be laid down. §. 167. Words are not to be used without meaning. Rule first. — In the employment of language, the first rule to be laid down, is this, that we should never use a word without some meaning. It may be thought extraor- dinary, that any should use words in this way, but a little examination cannot fail to convince one of the fact. Let any one inquire of those persons, who are in the habit of employing such words, as instinct, sympathy, antipathy, and a variety of others, which might be mentioned, and it will speedily appear, that while some are greatly at a loss to assign any sort of meaning to them, others arc utterly unable to do it. They are applied, as one may say, bf 102 RIGHT USE OF WORDS. rote ; they have been learnt from hearing others use them, and are repeated, because tiiey have been learnt, without their signifieancy having ever been inquired into. There are not only words used in this way, but whole phrases, of which the Peripatetic philosophy readily af- fords many instances. What can be said of " vegetative souls," " intentional species," " substantial forms," " ab- horrence of a vacuum," and the like, but that they are com- binations of terms without meaning ; and while they have the appearance of science, are no better, than an intended imposition on the understanding ? This error is much more frequent, than has generally been supposed ; — many words go down from one to an- other by a sort of hereditary descent, and are passively re- ceived and adopted, like a thousand opinions and prejudi- ces, which exist again, merely because they have existed before. We are exceedingly apt to adopt words from our parents and instructers, and to repeat the peculiar phrase- ology of our favourite sect or party, and either out of our great reverence for them, or from the circumstance of our being too indolent to make careful inquiries, we rest satis- fied in a shameful ignorance of every thing but a mere sound. Hence, if it be considered desirable, that lan- guage should retain iti value, which chiefly consists in re- cording and communicating thought, the rule laid down should be strictly observed, — not to employ words without meaning. §. 168 Words should stand for distinct and determinate ideas. Second rule ; — It is not enough, that we use words but a second rule is, net and determinate. W e apply the epithet, distinct, to simple ideas, mean- ing by the expression, that they should carefully be kept separate from, and not confounded with other simple ideas. The epithet, determinate, may more properly be applied to the class of our ideas called complex. As complex ideas are made up of simple ones, when we say, that they should be determinate, the meaning is, that a precise col- RIGHT USE OF WORDS. 103 lection of simple ideas should be fixed upon in the mind; that it should not remain a matter of uncertainty what sim- ple ideas are included, and what are not. We at once see the value of this rule. If our simple ideas arc confounded, one with another, or if we know not accurately the ele- ments of our complex states of mind, these circumstances necessarily diminish ve.y much from the value of the words, standing for them. With this explanation, the rule cannot fail to be understood, viz. — That our words should have a distinct and determinate meaning ; or what is the same thing, that the ideas should be distinct and determinate, which the words express. The application of this rule seems to be particularly im- oortant in regard to terms, standing for mixed modes ; es- pecially such names of mixed modes, as are of a moral kind. And one reason of this is, that these terms have no settled objects in natures, no archetypes, to which they can 'be referred, which are external to, and independent of the mind itself. They have been rightly regarded, as a spe- cies of mental creations. The materials or simple ideas which compose them, are in a certain sense independent of the mind, but the arrangement of them is not ; and they, therefore, have an existence by the mere choice and act of the mind, and are properly intellectual formations. The word justice comes within the class of ideas, call- ed mixed modes, and, being a moral term, is of frequent occurrence ; but, although every person may be supposed to attach some meaning to it, that meaning is not always determinate, and, in consequence, the term often causes perplexity. We will imagine the proper definition of it to be this, — The assigning to any one reward or punishment agreeably to law. It will readily occur, that the complex term will be involved in obscurity and uncertainty without a clear understanding of the subordinate idea, expressed by the word, law; that the compound or the whole will not be fully known, without a knowledge of the number and of the character of the parts; — and the same of oth- er mixed modes. In respect to the names of substances it should be ob- 191 RIGHT USE OP WORDS. served, that the ideas, which the names represent, should be not only distinct and determinate, but such, as will ac- curately correspond to the things themselves. It will, undoubtedly, be considered troublesome, to be under the necessity of complying with the directions here laid down, and to take so much care in settling in our minds the precise import of our complex notions. But it is a labour, which cannot well be dispensed with. Until it be undergone, men will often be perplexed as to their own meaning, and disputes, which might by a different course be speedily terminated, will be prolonged and mul- tiplied without end. §. 169. The same word not to be used at the same time ia different senses. Third rule ; — We are not to use the same word in the same discourse with different meanings ; with this excep- tion, that, if we should find it in some degree necessary slightly to vary the signification, which may sometimes be the case, notice should be given of it. But it is at once remarked, in connection with this rule, that words in all languages have a variety of significations, and that it can- not well be otherwise, unless we are willing to multiply them to an inordinate and burdensome degree. This is tnie ; — but it may justly be replied, that no well constitu- ted language admits varieties of meaning, which the train of the discourse, the natural connection of thought fails to suggest. When, therefore, a person uses an important word in an argument with another, or in any separate dis- course, whether the signification be the common one or not, it is rightly expected, that he employ it in the same sense afterwards, in which he was understood to use it when he began. If he do not, there will be unavoidable misunderstanding ; the most laborious discourses will fail of giving instruction, and controversies under such cir- cumstances cannot be terminated. This making the same word stand for different ideas, is spoken of by Mr. Locke, as a species of cheating ; it being much the same, as if a person in settling his accounts, should employ the num- ber three, sometimes for three ; at others, for four, five. RIGHT USK OP WORDS. 195 or nine, which could not be attributed to any thing else, than great ignorance, or great want of honesty. 4, 170. Of the meaning of words as used by different persons. We are led to remark, in the further consideration of the right use of words, that different individuals often at- tach different meanings to the same term in cases, wli ru they imagine they employ them alike. As an illus- tration, we will suppose a piece of gold to be present- ed to a child, and, undoubtedly, the prominent idea, which he has of it is, that it is something of a bright, beautiful yellow. Another person, more advanced in years, adds the idea of weight to his complex notion of it; another, who is better acquainted with its true nature, adds malleability, fusibility, and any other qualities, which he may have been enabled to discover. It may be true, that differences of this kind in the meaning of words are to some extent unavoidable, but the mere fact, that they exist in any case, and may possibly exist in very many, renders it of importance, that some principle be proposed, which shall tend to limit the number of them. Without doubt, it is difficult to give a rule, applicable to all differ- ences of this nature ; but an observation of the following cannot fail to check in some measure the evils, which we have in view. $. 171. Words are to be employed agreeably to good and reputable use. The fourth rule is, that we are to employ names with such ideas as good and reputable use has affixed to them. One great object of language, that of communi- cating our ideas to others, would fail without an obser- vation of this rule. Since whatever principles may be laid down in regard to good and reputable use, it involves and implies at least that use, which generally prevails. And he, who employs words different from the prevalent use of them, cannot well expect to be understood. In order with the greater precision to determine what good and reputable twe re, tfie three follewing rttlf^? may bt> m RIGHT USE OF WORDS. §. 172. What constitutes good and reputable use. (1) It is one circumstance in favour of the good and reputable usage of a word, which constitutes what is oth- erwise termed common use, that it is found in the writings of a considerable number, if not the majority of good au- thors. It is not, in ordinary cases, sufficient to authorize a word, that it is found in one merely, or even in a few such writers, and those, who are supported by such limited au- thority, cannot count on being generally understood. (2) A second direction is, that the words, which lay claim to good and reputable use, should not be provincial, or limited to a particular district of country ; — Further, those words, which are recently introduced from a foreign tongue, either by merchants in the intercourse of business, or by travellers for other reasons or in other ways, but which are not naturalized, and are not known to be neces- sary, have not this character. Good and reputable words are such, as are in use among the great mass of the peo- ple in all parts of the territories of a country, however ex- tensive, where any language is professed to be spoken. This is what is termed national use, in distinction from that jargon, which often springs up in neighbourhoods, or which, in the ways, to which we have already alluded, is at times introduced from a foreign source. (3) There is implied, thirdly, in the common and re- putable use of a language, that use, which prevails at the present time. If we w r ould employ words with their cus- tomary signification, with that meaning, which is ordina- rily attached to them, we must adopt the use of the peri- od, in which we live. It is not, however, necessarily im- plied in this rule, that we must limit ourselves to the present year or even the present age. Certain limits, it is true, must be fixed upon, which include our own times, but they may be of greater or less extent, although it is a matter of no small difficulty judiciously to ascertain and define them. RIGHT USE OF WORDS. 1^ $. 173. The nature of the subject is to be considered. Another and fifth rule is, that, in the use of words, their meaning is to be modified by the nature of the sub- jects, to which they relate. The great body of our knowledge concerns two distinct classes of existences, material and spiritual. But language, (we speak of arti- ficial language or words.) is not susceptible of a corres- pondent division ; it has but one origin, viz., from materi- al objects. Hence we necessarily have strong associa- tions with words before we apply them to the intellect ; and these associations are not always broken up by the subsequent application. It is such associations Bacon has in view, when he says ; i4 Men believe, that reason governs their words, but it often happens, that words have power enough to react upon reason."* This reaction on the mind can be nothing other than a biassing of the judgment through an inattention to the appropriate nature of the subject, about which language is employed. The errours, which will result from neglecting the rule laid down, may be briefly illustrated by a reference to some words in our own language, which have relation to the mental operations. Thus we frequently speak of the mind as a receptacle of thought or ideas.. By re- peatedly employing the term in this way, people are in time led to think of the mind as a material something, which is scooped out, and which is capable of treasuring or heaping up its acquisitions in the literal sense of the words. Again, we often speak of a chain of ideas. This language implies a notion, which is closely connected with that of a receptacle or repository. Our thoughts are represented in such expressions, as coiled up in the recep- tacle, ready to be drawn out or taken in as occasion may require. In the following passage of .Mr. Locke concerning the memory, he seems to consider it a sort of soft waxen tablet. " The memory in some men, it is true, is very te- nacious, even to a miracle; but yet there seems to be a constant decay of all our ideas, even of those, which are 3TBUCK deepest, and in minds the most retentive ; s© that, if they be not sometimes renewed by repeated exer- 26 198 RIGHT USE OP WORDS. cise of the senses, or reflection on those kinds of object*, which at first occasioned them, the print wears out, and at last there remains nothing to be seen." The words, reflect, comprehend, imagine, impress, &c. when applied to the mind, furnish other illustrations to the same pur- pose. They were first applied to material objects, and were originally expressive of such objects and their qualities merely. And hence in their application to the mind, we are exceedingly apt to transfer the material part of their signification, and to predicate it of something, which has nothing in common with matter. Through the agency of such words, applied in the first place to mate- rial things and afterwards to intellectual, many persons are led into serious and permanent mistakes. These mistakes may in a good measure be avoided by an adher- ence to the rule given, and probably in no other way, viz.. by modifying the meaning of terms by the nature of the subject, to which they relate. §. 174. We have not words for all our ideas. Words are employed as signs, standing for ideas ; but it mustnot be imagined, and certainly it is not true, that all ideas have words, corresponding to them. This assertion holds in regard to both simple and complex ideas. Among our simple ideas are colours ; we call one colour red ; an- other, white ; but it is certainly not too much to say, there are many diversities or grades in those colours, which we have a notion of or perceive, but have never given them specific names. The same may be said of the diversities in our sensations of hearing, touch, and taste. There are various complex ideas, which a person has, or may have, and yet without names, answering to them. In translating from one language into another, the truth here stated is clearly perceived ; in reading the German language, for example, which has a large number of very expressive compounds, we often meet with words, which suggest to the mind very clear ideas, but find no single words in English precisely corresponding. And it is some' RIGHT USE OF WORDS. 190 times with difficulty, that we can express them even by a number or combination of words. But, in general, we rind in every well-formed language words, sufficient for the expression of those ideas, which are most distinctly formed, and which, in the intercourse of life, we have most frequent occasion to communicate. §. 175. Of the definition of words. The schoolmen defined terms per genus et dlffeben- tiam, that is, by a term more general, than the word to be defined, with an additional word or words, expressive of some specific or distinguishing quality. Thus, man was defined by them animal rationale, an animal endued with reason : animal being the term, wider in significa- tion or more generic than man, and rationale the epithet, indicative of the difference between man and other ani- mals. A serious objection might be readily raised to this definition. If the schoolmen meant by the epithet ra- tionale what has been termed the discursive faculty or that operation, by which we compare together proposi- tions and deduce conclusions from premises, it might be questioned, whether dogs, horses, and elephants are not men, since it is the opinion of very many that they possess this ability in some small degree. A better mode of definition is by enumerating and ex- plaining some essential elements, entering into the nature and composition of the thing to be defined ; and this an- alysis of the elementary parts may be more or less partic- ular, as circumstances require. It should be remarked here, that we now speak of the definition of words, stan- ding for complex ideas ; since, as already observed in §. G9, words standing for simple ideas do not admit of definition. No one can make the simple ideas of red, white, blue, sweet, bitter, &C. more clear than they are at present by an} definitions whatever, which can be given. Although it be difficult, or rather impossible to define simple ideas, to make them any clearer than they already are, what are called complex ideas, admit of a definition-. 20U RIGHT USE OF WORDS. Complex ideas consist of various simple ideas combined to- gether ; the words, standing for them, cannot, indeed, of themselves, suggest the simple ideas, and show us what they are, independently of the aid of the senses ; but they may clearly and readily indicate to us, how these ideas are to be arranged and combined together in order to form complex ones. The word, rainbow, expresses a complex idea. Accurately define it by an enumeration of the colours, entering into its composition, and by a statement of its appearance to a person, who has the faculty of sight, and he will understand or have a conception of it, although he may never have seen one ; and this happens, because he has the simple ideas, and the words or description shows him, how they are combined together. But it is impos- sible to impart such a conception to a person, who has al- ways been blind, because he has never had the simple ideas of colours ; and words merely can never convey to him that knowledge. §. 176. Of an universal language. The inquiry has sometimes been started, Whether there there might not be a conventional, (that is an oral and written,) language, which should be permanent, and be employed by all nations ; — in other words, Whether there might not be an universal language ? The im- practicability of such an universal tongue appears both from the najture and the history of this mode of express- ing thought. (1) The nature of language shows its impracticability. It is an idea, which observation seems to have well es- tablished, that whatever is imperfect has a tendency to work out its own ruin ; and language, however excellent an invention, can never be otherwise than imperfect, since the human mind, which forms it, is itself limited, and is often running into errour. It will illustrate this remark, when we are reminded, that the external, material world is one of the great sources of our ideas, but our mental pow- ers being imperfect, different persons form diiferent ideas of the same objects. They then agree in giving the same RIUHT USE OF WORDS. 201 names to these ideas or combinations of ideas, and there often arises in this way a mutual misapprehension of that very agreement, which is not only the origin, but the sup- port of language. The seeds of the mutability and des- truction of language are, therefore, sown in its very birth, since a very little reflection cannot fail to show how many perplexities, how many discussions, how many changes may arise from this single circumstance, that, in conse- quence of the imperfection of our faculties, men often agree to consider words, as standing for what they imagine to be the same ideas, but which are not. We cannot, then, reasonably expect an universal and permanent language, until our minds can fully penetrate into the true nature of things, until our ideas are perfect, and different individu- als can certainly and exactly inform themselves of the thoughts, existing in the minds of others. Further ; — the political institutions of one country, the peculiarities in the aspects of its natural scenery, early as- sociations, occupations, and habits, lay the foundation for a variety of thoughts and shades of thought, which, in other countiies, will not exist, because the causes of their exis- tence are not to be found. If thoughts, feelings, imagina- tions exist under these circumstances, words will be need- ed to express them, for which there will be no occasion in another country and among another people ; — so that we find here also a permanent and extensive cause of the diversities of languages. (2) The impractibility of an universal language is seen also from the history of languages in times past. We cannot conceive of an universal language without supposing it to be permanent, for if there are any causes, which would operate to affect its permanency, the opera- tion of the same causes would be felt in checking and preventing its universality. But if we search the whole history of man, in order to find a language, that has re- mained permanent, unaltered ; it will be an entirely fruit- less pursuit. Not one such can be found. There appears to have been originally in Asia Minor a language, spoken to a great extent, which after a time Um RIGHT USE OP WORDS. disappeared, so that the very name was lost. So far from being able to maintain itself and increase the territories, where it was spoken, it was at last broken up into a variety of subordinate idioms, certainly no less than seven, the He- brew, the Syriac, the Chaldaic, the Arabic, the Ethiopic, Phenician, and Samaritan.* A common language seems also to have been the ori- ginal foundation of the different dialects of Greece. No reason can be given in explanation of the want of permanency in these ancient languages, which would not lead us to expect constant changes in any other tongue, and under any other circumstances. If all the nations of the earth could, by the providence of the Supreme Being, be made to-morrow acquainted with one universal speech, a knowledge of the nature of language and of its history would warrant us in predicting the speedy discontinuance of this universality, and the division of the language of the world into the dialects of islands, continents, and sectional territories. So that the remark of De Stutt-Tracy, that an universal language is as much an impossibility as a per- petual motion, is not without reason. §. 177. Remarks of Condillac on the changes, and corruptions of language. It is a remark of Condillac, to whose treatise on the Origin of Knowledge, we have already had occasion to re- fer, that it is nearly the same in language, as in physics, where motion, the source of life, becomes the principle of destruction. "When a language abounds (says he) with original writers in every kind, the more a person is endowed with abilities, the more difficult he thinks it will be to sur- *Ina former section, the Hebrew was spoken of as probably the oldest language. It might be thought more exact to represent it, as a dialect of the oldest language. But this qualification of the re- mark is not absolutely essential, when we take into account the com- mon opinion, that the Hebrew approaches nearer to the original language, than the other dialects. Although time has engrafted into it certain peculiarities, which go to constitute it a dialect, it retains substantially the features of the primitive tongue. RIGHT USE OF WORDS. 203 pass them. A mere equality would not satisfy his ambition ; like them he wants the pre-eminence. He, therefore, tries a new road. But as every style analogous to the character of the language, and to his own, hath been already used by preceding writers, he has nothing left but to deviate from analogy. Thus in order to be an original, he is obli- ged to contribute to the ruin of a language, which a cen- tury sooner he would have helped to improve. Though such writers may be criticised, their superior abilities must still command success. The ease there is in copying their defects, soon persuades men of indiffer- ent capacities, that they shall acquire the same degree of reputation. Then begins the reign of subtile and strained conceits, of affected antitheses, of specious paradoxes, of frivolous and far-fetched expressions, of new fangled words, and in short of the jargon of persons, whose understandings have been debauched by bad metaphysics. The public applauds; foolish and ridiculous writings, the beings of a day, are surprisingly multiplied ; a vicious taste infects the arts and sciences, which is followed by a visible de- crease of men of abilities." See Locke's Essay, Bk. III., Condillac's Origin and Progress of Knowledge, Pt. II., Stewart's Elements, Chapter on Language, Sect. III., De Stutt Tracy, Pt. II. Chap. VI.. Campbell's Rhetoric. &c. CHAPTER SIXTEENTH, CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. §. 178. General remarks on peculiarities of style. X he style of a writer is his choice of words and manner *f arranging them. Every writer of genius employs a style in some degree peculiar to himself. The nature of lan- guage leads us to expect this. Language is the express- ion of thought, and all writers of real worth think and feel in some degree for themselves; their style, therefore, which embodies and sets forth their mental states to others, will have a form and impress of its own. The languages of nations also have a style or peculiarity of manner, — cer- tain prevailing characteristics, which readily distinguish them from those of other nations. The style of individual writers, the characteristics in the style of Savages in their brief records and speeches, and those also of the languages of civilized and literary communities are all subjects of philosophical inquiry, and never can be fully understood and explained without re- ferring to some principles of the human mind. §. 179. Characteristics of style in uncivilized nations. As uncivilized tribes are ignorant of alphabetical lan- guage, they are unable to furnish us with many specimens of mental effort ; — rarely any thing more than some brief historical sketches, war songs, and speeches. The words, which such tribes employ, are generally few in number, compared with the vocabulary of civilized nations ; and of ( 11ARACTERIST1CS OF LANGUAGES. 206 this number only a small proportion are the signs of ab- stract ideas. Having but few abstract ideas, and, conse- quently, but few names for them, they are under a neces- sity of resorting constantly to figurative illustrations ; so that their language seems to partake of the materiality of the external objects, with which they are chiefly conver- sant. But aided, as they are, by metaphorical expres- sions, their stock of words still remains small ; and the sentences, which they utter, must, therefore, of necessity be short. These short and figurative sentences are in- spirited with all the untamed passions of a savage mind. " The bones of our countrymen (say the Chiefs) lie uncovered ; their bloody bed has not been washed clean ; their spirits cry against us ; they must be appeased ; sit no longer inactive upon your mats ; lift the hatchets; con- sole the spirits of the dead." §. 180. Origin of apologues and of the parabolic style. Nations, while in an uncivilized state, or when at best they are only in their progress toward intellectual refine- ment, do not often attempt abstract reasonings or abstract speculations of any kind ; — and this is one marked char- acteristic of the style of such periods. The causes are chiefly two. One of which is, that they have a small number of gen- eral terms ; and it could not be expected to be otherwise. It is no doubt true, that we arc capable of carrying on trains of reasoning to some little extent without the aid of general terms or those words, which stand for general ab- stract ideas ; but it is no less evident, that they are of great use, and that without them all processes of reasoning must be very much circumscribed. This circumstance also deserves consideration, as accounting in some measure for the absence of ab- stract speculations and reasonings from the mental ef- forts of nations in the early periods of their history, viz. They do not possess, to that number desirable, those parts of speech, such as conjunctions and rela- tive pronouns, which arc used to connect sentences 27 2'tfti CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. and clauses of sentences, and to show their distinction from each other, or opposition. It appeared at §. 154, that these classes of words, which are evidently very im- portant in long and connected trains of thought, and also adverbs and prepositions, are subsequent in their oiigin to nouns and verbs ; in other words, that, in the formation of a language, these are the parts, which are completed last. Under these circumstances, their reasonings, as might be expected, are applied to the minds of people by a vari- ety of obvious and familiar illustrations, — by means of apologues and parables. When Menennius Agrip- pa (year two hundred and sixty of the Roman repub- lic) wishes to convince the people of the necessity of subordination to the regularly constituted government, he lays down no abstract proposition and enters into no argu- ment. The historian informs us, that he merely related, in an antiquated and uncouth way, the story of a rebellion on the part of the other members of the body, the hands, the mouth, and the teeth., against the stomach, and leaves them to make an application of it. The people understood what he meant. Not to say any thing of the apologues and parables, attributed to iEsop and others, the Bible itself, written for the most part at a very early period, helps to illustrate these remarks. Who does not recollect the apologue of the trees by Jotham in the book of Judges, that of the two men in one city by Nathan, and a multitude of others ; — in particular, the interesting parables of the Saviour ? §. 181. Of the style of civilized and scientific nations. As a nation advances in knowledge, its language be- comes more strictly conventional, losing by degrees that metaphorical aspect, which it presented in its earlier peri- ods. A variety of new words are introduced, which pre- viously had no existence, because the things, for which they stand, were not then known. New arts have their technical names and epithets, and new sciences furnish us with their novel nomenclatures. The distiller speaks of the cohobation of liquors j the CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES; 905 worker in mines of collieries ; the chemist of sulphates and muriates ; the botanist and mineralogist employ a variety of terms, peculiar to their respective departments. An increased refinement and abstraction discovers itself in terms, appropriated to moral, political, and literary sub- jects ; and the language in all respects is more removed from the senses, and becomes more intellectual. But while it is, by a natural consequence of mental improve- ment, more exact and scientific, it is less directly and strikingly indicative of the passions of men, and is, there- fore, less poetical. A Savage, if he had the most refined language of Europe at his command, would be at a loss to express in it the fiery emotions of his bosom ; he would choose the dialect of his tribe. $. 182. Characteristics of languages depend much on the habits, &c. of the people. Individual writers, as already observed, have a style, that is, characteristics of expression, of their own ; for every one has a tendency to connect together thoughts or words, which are the signs of thought, agreeably to his peculiar passions, and intellectual habits. But languages also, 'considered in their whole extent, have a style ; be- cause the nations, the whole mass of people, that make use of those languages, have their characteristics, as well as individuals. It, follows, then, from this, that languages assume their general character or style, in a good meas- ure, from that of the people ; and this is what we arc willing to maintain. It will be found, that the language of every people has words, combinations of words, pecu- liarities of grammatical construction, &c. springing entire- ly out of the national habits and the exigencies of their peculiar circumstances. Thus, — We have the word, cor- bax, in Hebrew, axggaros in Persian, ostrakismos in Greek, proscriptio and virtus in Latin ; words, which are either wholly peculiar to their respective languages, or employed with some peculiarity of meaning, not elsewhere acknowledged. We find combinations of words and pe- culiarities of grammatical construction in the Hebrew and its cognate dialects, which we do not find in the languages 208 CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. of modern Europe ;and this will be more or less the case in all other languages or classes of languages, which we may compare together. The single fact, without going into particulars, that no person can become fully acquainted with the true import and spirit of a language, without an acquaintance with the geography of their country and its natural scenery, without a knowledge of the dress, buildings, arts, religion, customs, and history of the people, seems enough in sup- port of the remark, that languages take their character from the circumstances of those, who speak them. If the fact, on which the conclusion is founded, be doubted, then we ask, why instructers consider it so essential, that their pupils should have a knowledge of the antiquities of the Romans, of the antiquities of the Greeks, of the anti- quities of the Hebrews ? — and why this course is pursued, or is acknowledged to be requisite, in respect to every other dead language ? §. 183. Languages help us in forming a correct idea of the na- tional character. If the statements in the preceding section be true, it follows, that a knowledge of languages very much helps us in acquiring a knowledge of the character of the peo- ple, who speak them. The study of every language is the examination of a new chapter in the history and operations of the mind ; — that is, of the mind, as it is modified by the peculiar circumstances, the climate, government, habits, &c, of a people. Without an acquaintance, therefore, with their vernacular tongue, the critic will in vain take it upon him, to judge of the philosophy of their literature and character. It is this, tha( breathes the national spirit ; — it fixes and retains it after the nation itself is extinct. Whatever may have been, at any time thought, it will be found on examination, that those individuals, who are looked up to, as the eminent writers of a nation, seldom arise, until its language is nearly or quite completed. They employ it, as the people have formed it ; and the people have formed it, as their feelings and habits prompted. CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 909 ]. 1^4. Of the correspondence between national intellect and the progress of a language. The circumstance, that language is a great and admirable instrument of intellectual power, is of itself no small confirmation of the doctrine, that develope- ments of intellectual strength will correspond to the progressive improvement of a language, and that its great men, those, who are to speak in it long as it shall exist, will not make their appearance, until it have arrived to some degree of perfection. Let it be supposed, that in the midst of a Savage tribe, whose language is rude, a person is found of perfect men- tal organization, capable of remembering, separating, and comparing ideas, with a quickness of invention, and other qualities of genius above the common lot. He has influ- ence over the minds of others ; he is consulted in difficult emergencies ; he is accounted wise ; but how far he falls short of the mark, which is reached by others of originally no greater genius, who appear in a civilized community with the advantage of a perfect language ! " It is with languages (says Condillac) as with geome- trical signs ; they give a new insight into things, and di- late the mind in proportion as they are more perfect. Sir Isaac Newton's extraordinary success was owing to the choice which had been already made of signs, together with the contrivance of methods of calculation. Had he appeared earlier, he might have been a great man for the age he would have lived in, but he would not have been the admiration of ours. It is the same in every other branch of learning. The success of geniuses, who have had the happiness even of the best organization, depends entirely on the progress of the language in regard to the age in which they live ; for words answer to geometri- cal signs, and the manner of using them to methods of calculation. In a language, therefore, defective in words, or whose construction is not sufficiently easy and conven- ient, we should meet with the same obstacles as occurred in geometry before the invention of algebra. The French tongue was for a long time so unfavourable to the progress 210 CHARACTERISTICS OP LANGUAGES. of the mind, that if we could frame an idea of Corneille successively in the different ages of our monarchy, we should find him to have been possessed of less genius in proportion to his greater distance from the age in which he lived, till at length we should reach a Corneille, who could not give the least mark of abilities." ^O rigin of Knowledge, part II. §. I.) This writer thinks^^fl^rnaJPae demonstrated, that there can be no such thing, as a super- iour genius, (meaning probably a developement of super- iour genius,) till the language of a nation has been consid- erably improved. §. 185. Different languages suited to different minds, and to dif- ferent kinds of subjects. Some languages are more suited to certain minds than they are to others ; more adapted also to the discussion of certain subjects, than others. Accordingly the French language is simple, clear, precise,and, therefore, favourable, to abstract investigations.* And it is here, it maybe con- * The sentiment, here expressed in reference to the French language, is one which is proposed and cherished by the French themselves. " J' ajouterois, (says Did- erot as quoted in Stewart's Historical Dissertation,) volon- tiers que la marche didactique et reglee, a laquelle notre langue es assujettie,la rend plus propreaux sciences ; etque par les tours et les inversions que le Grec, le Latin, I'ltalien, 1'Anglois, se permettent, ces langues sont plus avantageu- ses pour les lettres : Que nous pourvons inieux qu'aucun autre peuple faire parler l'esprit; et que le bon sens choi- siroit la langue Francois ; mais que l'imagination et les passions donneroient la preference aux langues anciennes et a celles de nos voisins ; Qu'il faut parler Francois dans la societe et dans les ecoles de Philosophic ; et Grec, Latin, Anglois, dans les chaires et sur le Theatre. ***** " Le Francois est fait pour instruire, eclairer, et convain- cre ; le Grec, le Latin, 1'Anglois, pour persuader, emou- voir, et tromper ; parlez Grec, Latin, Italien au peuple, mais parlez Francois au sage." {(En-ores de Diderot, Tome II. pp. 70, 71. Amsterdam, 1772.) v HARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 211 jeetured, that we find one cause of the great excellence of the mathematicians and philosophers of that nation. The Italian language is characterized by exceeding har- mony ; and is, therefore, suited to certain kinds of poetry, paiicularly elegiac. It also furnishes many terms, appli- cable io music. The Spanish language seems to indi- cate, in its sonorous fulness, that dignified and measured solemnity, which is so well known to be characteristic of the people, who speak it. But it is as courteous, as it is dignified. It has abundance of terms, precisely suited to express every form and degree of deference, courtesy, and honour.' The order of chivalry first arose among the Spaniards, and as all the members of that romantic institu- tion were bound to be polite, as well as heroic, it natu- fally happened, that many expressions of respect and politeness were introduced in that way. which have since been retained. §. 186L Views of the author of Hermes in respect to the English, and the Oriental languages. " Nations, (says the author of a Philosophical Inquir) concerning Universal Grammar.) like single men have their peculiar ideas. These peculiar ideas become the genius of their language, since the symbol must of course correspond to its archetype. The wisest nations, having the most and best ideas, will consequently have the best and most copious languages. Others, whose language? are motley and compounded, and who have borrowed from different countries different arts and practices, dis- cover by words, to whom they are indebted for things. "To illustrate what has been said by a few example*. We Britons in our time have been remarkable borrow- ers, as our multiform language may sufficiently shew. Our terms in polite literature prove, that this came from Greece ; our terms in music and painting, that these came from Italy; our phrases in cookery and war, that | we learnt these from the French : and our phrases in naviga- tioix, that we were taught by the Flemings and Low Dutch. These many and very different sources of our language may be the cause, why it is to deficient in regularity and 212 CHARACTERISTICS OP LANGUAGES. analogy. Yet we have this advantage to compensate the defect, what we want in elegance we gain in copiousness, in which last respect few languages will be found superior to our own. " Let us pass from ourselves to the Nations of the East. The Eastern World, from the earliest days, has been at all times the seat of enormous monarchy. On its natives fair Liberty never shed its genial influence. If at any time civil discords arose among them (and arise there did innumerable) the contest was never about the Form of Government ; for this was an object of which the combatants had no conception; it was all from the poor motive of, who should be their master, whether a Cyrus or an Artaxer- xes, a Mahomet or a Mustapha. " Such was their condition, and what was the conse- quence ? — Their ideas became consonant to their servile state, and their words became consonant to their servile ideas. The great distinction, forever in their sight, wae that of tyrant and slave; the most unnatural one conceiv- able, and most susceptible of pomp, and empty exagger- ation. Hence they talked of kings as gods, and of them- selves, as the meanest and most abject reptiles. Nothing was either great or little in moderation, but every senti- ment was heightened by incredible hyperbole. Thus tho' they sometimes ascended into the great and magnifi- cent, they as frequently degenerated into the tumid and bombast." §. 187. Opinions of the same author in respect to the Greek and Roman character and literature. " And what sort of people may we pronounce the Ro- mans ? A nation, engaged in wars and commotions, some foreign, some domestic, which for seven hundred years wholly engrossed their thoughts. Hence, there- fore, their language became, like their ideas, copious in all terms expressive of things political, and well adapted to the purposes both of history and popular eloquence. — But what was their philosophy ? As a nation, it was none, if we may credit their ablest writers. And hence the un- fitness of their language to this subject : a defect, which CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. *13 even Cicero is compelled to confess, and more fully makes appear, when he writes philosophy himself, from the num- ber of terms, which he is obliged to invent. Virgil seems to have judged the most truly of his countrymen, when, admitting their inferiority in the more elegant arts, he con- cludes at last with his usual majesty, Tu regere imperio popcLos, Romane, memento, (Hse tibi erunt artes) pacisque, imponere morein, Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos. " From considering the Romans let us pass to the Greeks. The Grecian Commonwealths, while they main- tained their liberty, were the most heroic confederacy that ever existed. They were the politest, the bravest, and the wisest of men. In the short space of little more than a century, they became such statesmen, warriors, orators, historians, physicians, poets, critics, painters, sculptors, architects, and (last of all) philosophers, that one can hardly help considering that golden period, as a providen- tial event in honour of human nature, to shew to what per- fection the species might ascend. •• Now the language of these Greeks was truly like themselves, it was conformable to their transcendant and universal genius. Where matter so abounded, words fol- lowed of course, and those exquisite in every kind, as the ideas for which they stood. And hence it followed, there was not a subject to be found, which could not with pro~ priety be expressed in Greek."'* §. 18^. Requisites of an interpreter oflan^uages. From the views, which have now been taken of the eharacteristics of language, we are led to educe a number of inferences, which may be stated in the form of rules or principles of interpretation ; — wishing to observe, however, that both the subject of the characteristics of languages and that of interpretation are worthy of a more extensive ex- amination, than can be expected from such abridged hints as these. They open a wide field for literary exertion, which * Hermes or a Philosophical Inquiry concerning Universal Grammar by Jamea Harris, 13k. III. Ch. V. 28 314 CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES has been zealously occupied by a few critics, particularly among the Germans ;* and with such success, as to encour- age others to emulate their example. Those, who pursue it, cannot fail to meet with encouragement. The subject of the nature and interpretation of language is in itself, independent of any remote consequences, one of exceeding interest, and demands success. When interpretation is conducted on the principles here laid down, it is no longer a business of conjugations and declensions merely, it is not a mere dry comparison of words, but the study of the philosophy of human nature. Rule first ; — The interpreter must have a good, gram- matical knowledge of the vernacular tongue of the writer, whom he interprets. This, no doubt, is evident ; — it be- ing a necessary preliminary step. Rule second ; — The interpreter should have a philo- sophical knowledge of the language. Something more is necessary than a knowledge of single words, of declensions and conjugations, and of the rules of syntax. He must be acquainted with the prevailing spirit, or what are in this chapter termed the characteristics of the language. He must inform himself of the history of the people, learn their peculiar associations, their customs, the state of the arts, &c. In no other way can he understand the true spirit, or have, what may be otherwise called, a philosophical knowledge of any language ; and without such knowledge he can never do justice to his author. (See §. 1S2.) Rule third ; — He must know something of the author himself, whataver is peculiar in his situation, or in other words, his personal history. If languages have character- istics or a style of their own, it is certainly not less true of individual authors ; and this diversity is partly owing to the peculiarities of their private fortunes. We cannot dissent from the saying of Petruchio in the play — " 'Tis the mind, that makes the body rich." It may be safely admitted, that the mind is not wholly de- pendent on outward circumstances. If it be truly great, it will show something of the excellence of its nature in *Amoug others, Herder, Ernesti, Morus, Meyer, Keil, &c. CHARACTERISTICS OP LANGUAGES. MS all situations, in want, in woe, in persecution, in ignorance itself, as the " sun breaks through clouds." Rut it is no less true, that circumstances are never without their influ- ence ; they give to the mind a new direction ; and almost impart to it, in some instances, a new character. Hence the importance of this rule. We are to inquire amid what scenery of nature the writer dwelt? What early supersti- tions were made familiar to the mind? In what political and religious principles he was educated? W T hat was hit personal calling and the degree of his rank in life? What was his treatment from men? and what his peculiar views of human character ? And it is not, until these things are made known to us, that we are fully prepared to estimate what he has written. The remarks here made admit of an illustration in al- most all writers of any original genius. But to take an instance, which is familiar, and on that account perhaps is best chosen, it may be confidently said, that they may be illustrated from the writings of the New Testament. We observe a difference in the style of Matthew and Luke, of Paul and John. The situation in which they were placed, and circumstances under which they acted, had undoubted- ly an influence on their character, and through their char- acter on their writings, but this was not the whole origin of these peculiarities. Even the natural temperament of the writer, by a powerful sympathy, communicates itself to the written composition ; and while that of Paul is abrupt and vehement, like the soul of its author, that of John seems to express, in its very words and combinations, his affec- tionate disposition. The apostle Paul, in particular, is a fortunate instance, to show the importance of attending to the peculiarities of individual writers. Peculiarities — whatever cause they may have arisen from — may be discovered in his writings, in the use even of single words. For instance, the word, katargeix, signifying to remove, destroy, kill, make free, is very seldom found in any Greek classic author, but is found twenty six times in the apostle's writings ; only once in all the other books of the New Testament. 316 CHARACTERISTICS OP LANGUAGES. St. Paul has sometimes employed such words, as he found used in common conversation, and which, although not un- frequent in common discourse, would have hardly been considered admissible in classical writers, certainly not in the sense, in which he employs them. The word, exousia, (1 Cor. xi. 10,) primarily means power, dignity, &c ; but appears, by a fashion, which sometimes exists in language no less than in dress and in manners, to have been in the city of Corinth, the name of a woman's head-dress, which was worn, at the time of writing the Epistle to the Co- rinthians, in that city. There is no reason to think, that it is used in this sense by any other writer, either of the pure Greek, or the Hebraistic. When, therefore, we learn in re- gard to the apostle Paul, that he was brought up in the doc- trines of the Pharisees, that he afterwards embraced the christian religion, that he was driven from place to place, and resided in many cities, in Rome, in Ephesus, and par- ticularly in Corinth, that he was a person of great boldness, decision, and enterprise ; a knowledge of these circum- stances in his personal fortunes and character throws much Jight on his writings Rule fouiith ; — The views, which have been given, lead us to remark, as another and fourth rule, that the in- terpreter should possess an intimate acquaintance with the particular subject, on which his author treats ; — and not only this, should endeavour fully to possess himself of the spirit of the particular species of writing, of which the tract to be interpreted is a specimen, whether it be poet- ry, the style of essays, of mathematical treatises, of histo- jy, or of philosophy. Nothing is more clear, than that the human mind, when called into exercise, will be differently affected according to the nature of that particular subject, to which its atten- tion is directed. It will be characterized by calm reflec- tions on the more intimate nature or the philosophy of cre- ated things ; or will be thrown into a series of closely con- catenated propositions ; or will be animated by a creative power and form thousands of new and glowing images; or will be excited by strong and declamatory impulses ac- CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 217 cording to the characteristic tendencies of the exercise, about ivhich it is employed. The interpreter cannot do him justice without having his own mind brought into a similar position with the original author's ; and in order to this, he must be acquainted not only with the subject of the particular writing in question, but also with the char- acteristics and spirit of that species of writing, to which it belongs. It ivouM be presumption, not to say injustice in a mathematician, who had exclusively devoted himself to his ch >sen science, to undertake to pass sentence on the pr du .lions of a poet ; those mental tendencies and that state o( mind, which are adapted to the last mentioned department of literature, not being fitted to the former. It would be no less presumption and injustice for a mere painter to assume the criticism of musical compositions, or for a mere man of polite letters to attempt the interpreta- tion of the writings and an estimation of the character of mathematicians. Note. It may seem to be a proper place here, to men- tion a peculiar difficulty in the interpretation of the Bible, arising from the nature of the subjects there treated of. Revelation is a communication of those things, which could not have been fully learnt, and some of them could not ha'e been learnt in any degree, by our unassisted facul- ties It is a declaration of such facts, as eye hath not seen, and ear hath not heard. As. therefore, we derive our ideas from sensation and from what takes place in our own minds, it ought not to surprise us, that our weak and limited understandings are incapable of forming a perfect conception of God, of an- gels, of spiritual bodies, of the soul being brought to judg- ment, of the resurrection from the dead, &c. The words, which are employed on these subjects, are not without meaning, but such is the nature of the things signified by the words, that the meaning of them is often necessarily obscure to us ; and we here find a favourable opportunity both for the exercise of that religious feeling, which is termed faith, as to the things themselves, and also for the exercise of charity, when our own interpretations do n<>t agree with those of any of our erring fellow beings. CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. LAWS OF 1IENTAL ASSOCIATION. §. 189. Of ths meaning of mental association and of ha general principles cr laws. Our thoughts and feelings follow each other in a regular train. Of this statement no one needs any other proof, than his individual experience. We all know, not only, that our minds are susceptible of new states, but what is ipore, that this capability of new states is not for- tuitous, but has its laws. Therefore, we not only say, that our thoughts and feelings succeed each other, but that this antecedence and sequence is in a regular train ; a cir- cumstance in our intellectual economy, which, it may be just observed, has the most direct and important bearing on our preservation and happiness. To this regular and established consecution of the states of the mind we give the name of mental association. The term, association, is perhaps preferable to any other. It may, with no little appearance of reason, be objected to the word, suggestion, which has sometimes been employed, that it seems to imply a positive power or efficiency of the preceding state of the mind in producing the subsequent. But of the existence of such an efficien- ey we have no evidence. All that we know* is the fact, that our thoughts and feelings, under certain circumstan- ces, appear together and keep each other company ; — And this is what is understood to be expressed, and is all, that is expressed, by the term, association. LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 319 By the laws of association, we mean no other than the general designation of those circumstances, under Which the regular consecution of mental states, which has been mentioned, occurs. The following may be mentioned as anions the primary, or more important of those laws, al- though it is not necessary to take upon us to assert, cither that the enumeration is complete, or that some better ar- ment of them might not be proposed, — viz., resem- blance, contrast, contiguity in time and place, and calse and effect. §. 190. Resemblance the first general law of association. New trains of ideas and new emotions are occasioned by resemblance ; but when we say, that they are occa- sioned in this way, all that is meant is, that there is a new state of mind, immediately subsequent to the perception of the resembling object. Of the efficient cause of this i -tate of mind under these circumstances, we can on- Creator of the soul has seen fit to appoint this connection in its operations, without our being able, or deeming it necessary to give any further explanation. A traveller, wandering in a foreign land, finds himself in the Course of his sojournings in the midst of aspects of na- ture not unlike those, Where he has formerly resided, and the fact of this resemblance becomes the antecedent to new states of mind. There is distinctly brought before him the scenery, which he has left, his own woods, his waters* and his home. The emperor Napoleon, con- versing on the subject of religious feeling and belief, once expressed himself thus. " Last Sunday evening, in the general silence of nature, I was walking in these grounds, (of Mahnaison.) The sound of the church-bell of Ruel fell upon my ear, and renewed all the impressions of my youth. I was profoundly affected, such is the power of early associations and habit ; and 1 considered, if such was the case with me, what must be the effect of such re- collections uponrthe more simple and credulous vulgar? Let your philosophers answer that. The people must have * Scott's Life of Napoleon, vol. in. ch. xxxiv. S3t> LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. a religion." The result is the same in any other case, whenever there is a resemblance between what we now experience, and what we have previously experi- enced; We have been acquainted, for instance, at some former period with a person, whose features appeared to us to possess some peculiarity, a breadth and openness of the forehead, an uncommon expression of the eye, or some other striking mark ; — to-day we meet a stranger in the crowd, by which we are surrounded, whose features are of a somewhat similar cast, and the resemblance at once vividly suggests the likeness of our old acquaintance. §.191. Resemblance in every particular not necessary. It is not necessary, that the resemblance should be complete in every particular, in order to its being a prin- ciple or law of association. It so happens, (to use an illus- tration of Brown,*) that we see a painted portrait of a fe- male countenance, which is adorned with a ruff of a pecu- liar breadth and display ; and we are, in consequence, im- mediately reminded of queen Elizabeth. Not because there is any resemblance between the features before us and those of the English sovereign, but because in all the painted representations, which we have seen of her, she is uniformly set off with this peculiarity of dress, with a ruff like that, which we now see. Here the resemblance be- tween the suggesting thing and that, which is suggested, is not a complete resemblance, does not exist in all the particulars, in which they may be compared together, but is limited to a part of the dress. That a single resembling circumstance, (and perhaps one of no great importance,) should so readily suggest the complete conception of another object or scene, which is made up of a great variety of parts, seems to admit of some explanation in this way. We take, for example, an indi- vidual ; — the idea, which we form of the individual is a complex one, made up of the forehead, eyes, lips hair, gen- eral figure, dress, &c. These separate, subordinate ideas, when combined together, and viewed as a whole, have a -Brown's Philosophy of the Human Mind, Lect. xxxv. LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. U>\ near analogy to any of our ideas, which are compounded and are capable of being resolved into elements more sim- ple. When, therefore, we witness a ruff of a size and decoration more than ordinary, we are at once reminded of that ornament in the habiliments of the British queen; and this on the ground of resemblance. But this article in the decorations of her person is the foundation of only one part of a very complex state of mind, which embraces the features and the general appearance. As there has been a long continued co-existence of those separate parls, which make up this complex state, the recurrence to the mind of one part or of one idea is necessarily attended with the recurrence of all the others. They sustain the re- lation of near friends ; they form a group, and do not easi- ly and willingly admit of a separation. The principle, which maintains in the relation of co-existence such states of the mind, as may be considered as grouped together, is the same with that, which so steadily and permanently combines the parts of mixed modes or other complex ideas, and is no less effectual in its operation. §. 19?. Of resemblance in the effects produced. Resemblance operates, as an associating principle, not only when there is a likeness or similarity in the things themselves, but also when there is a resemblance in the effects, which are produced upon the mind. The ocean, when greatly agitated by the winds, and threatening every moment to overwhelm us, produces in the mind an emotion, similar to that, which is caused by the presence of an angry man, who is able to do us harm. And in consequence of this similarity in the ejects pro- duced, they reciprocally bring each other to our recollec- tion. Dark woods, hanging over the brow of a mountain, cause in us a feeling of awe and wonder, like that, which we feel, when we behold, approaching us, some aged per- son, whose form is venerable for his years, and whose name is renowned for wisdom and justice. It is in reference to this view of the principle, on which we are remarking, that *22 LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. the following comparison is introduced in Akenside's Pleasures of the Imagination. " Mark the sable woods, •' That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow ; " With what religious awe the solemn scene " Commands your steps ! As if the reverend form " Of Minos or of Numa sliould forsake " The Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade " Move to your pausing eye." As we are so constituted, that all nature produces in u* certain effects, causes certain emotions, similar to those, which are caused in us in our intercourse with our fellow- beings, it so happens that, in virtue of this fact, the natur- al world becomes living, animated, operative. The ocean is in anger ; the sky smiles ; the cliff frowns ; the aged woods are venerable ; the earth and its productions are no longer a dead mass, but have an existence, a soul, an agency. We see here the foundation of metaphorical language ; and it is here, that we are to look for the principles, by which we are to determine the propriety or impropriety of its use. In every metaphor there is some analogy or resem- blance ; it is a comparison or simile in its most concise form. There is an examination instituted ; and circum- stances of similitude are detected ; not, however, by a long and laborious process, but in a single word. Hence it is the language of strong emotion ; and as such, is peculiar- ly the language of uncivilized nations, and, in general, of the most spirited parts of the poetry of those, that are civilized. §. 103. Resemblances in the sound of words ; alliteration, &c. Our states of mind are associated, one with another, not merely by resemblances existing in the external and visible appearances of things, to which those states or ideas correspond ; nor is the fact of their association lim- ited to resemblances in the effects resulting from them ; they may also be associated by similitudes of various de- grees in the words, which are appointed, as their signs. LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. SW Sounds, which in a similar manner impress the organ of hearing, reciprocally suggest each other ; and this is es- pecially true of words, whether they convey the same or similar meaning, or not. Thus, it is not impossible, that powders may Btiggest patches, and billets-doux may be associated with Bibles, not because there is any resem- blance in the things, between powders and patches, bil- lets-doux and Bibles, but because the words begin with the same letters, and there is, consequently, a slight re- semblance in the sounds. It is evidently in consequence of the operation of association in this manner, that we find these very things brought together in a line of Pope's Rape of the Lock ; "Puffs, powders, patches, Bibles, billets-doux." This is an instance of what is termed alliteration, an artifice in poetical style, which is not unfrequently em- ployed, and sometimes with good effect. Alliteration, as the term is generally defined, is the repetition of the same letter at the beginning of different words or any emphatic part of the same word, at certain short intervals. The following, in addition to the one al- ready given, are instances of this practice. "Up the high h\\\ he leaves a huge round stone." Pope. " Soon he soothed the soul to pleasures." Dryden. " To /iigb-born ifoftl's ftarp, or soft Llewellyn's lay." Gray. The poet often finds himself prodigally furnished with words, which would be suitable for alliterations. And his richness in such terms can be ascribed to nothing else, than the faculty of association, operating in the manner described ; with this additional circumstance in the case of the poet, that tiie operation is quickened and made more effectual, by his practice of seeking for words, which have a similarity of termination. It is possible, that the fre- quency of the recurrence of such terms operates, as a temptation to the poetical writer to employ them and to form stanzas, containing alliteration, more frequently than he ought to. Whatever may be the difference of opinion 224 LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. as to the positive merit or want of merit in this species of ornament, all readily admit, that its value cannnot be ac- counted great. It is, therefore, to be employed with cau- tion, and suits better on slight occasions and in subjects of no very serious import, than in those of a solemn and im- portant nature. Its good results may, far the most part, be summed up in these particulars; — (1) It sometimes affords us pleasure by reminding us of the power of the writer, who is able to express his meaning not only under the restraints of rhyme, but of those additional shackles, which alliteration so ev- idently imposes. — (2) Sometimes the meaning is more strongly expressed, than it could possibly be without allit- eration, as in this instance ; " Up the high h\\\ he leaves a huge, round stone." The same might be shown in many other cases, especi- ally in those, where the poet tries to imitate, which he sometimes does, by the structure and sound of his verses the thing, which he describes. — (3) As a rough stanza at times is thought to be no defect, but rather the contrary, because it improves the others by contrast ; so lines, with alliterations, which are imagined to fail on the other hand, or by excess of harmony, may break in upon the oftentimes monotonous sameness of poetic numbers, and improve the general aspect of the piece for the same reason, as the stanzas, that are inordinately deficient in smoothness. §. 194. Contrast the second general or primary law. Contrast is another law or principle, by which our successive mental states are suggested ; or, in other terms, when there are two objects, or events, or situations of a character precisely opposite, the idea or conception of one is immediately followed by that of the other. When the discourse is of the palace of the king, how often are we reminded, in the same breath, of the cottage of the pea- sant ! And thus wealth and poverty, the cradle and the grave, hope and despair, are found in public speeches and in declamations frcm the pulpit almost always going LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 22.7 together and keeping each other company. The truth is, they are connected together in our thoughts by a distinct and operative principle ; they accompany each other, not because there is any resemblance in the things thus associ- ated, but in consequence of their very marked contrarie- ty. Darkness reminds of light, heat of cold, friendship of enmity ; the sight of the conqueror is associated with the memory of the conquered, and when beholding men of deformed and dwarfish appearance, we are at once led to think of those of erect figure or of Patagonian size. Con- trast, then, is no less a principle or law of association, than resemblance itself. Those writers, who describe human action and suffer- ing, and who make it a point to be true to nature, fur- nish illustrations of the operations of this principle. In one of those deeply interesting sketches, which acquaint us with the sufferings of the early settlers of this country, and which are worthy of being read inasmuch as they teach us the worth of that peace and prosperity, which are now enjoyed, and the amount of toil and endurance, which purchased them, we find the following instance of the power of this law of our constitution. — " After my feelings were a little quickened by warmth, my sad por- tion was brought me, consisting of the duck's head and a gi'l of broth. As I lifted the unsavoury morsel with a trembling hand to my mouth, I cast my thoughts back a few days to a time, when from a board plentifully spread in my own house, 1 ate my food with a merry heart. The wooden spoon dropped from my feeble hand. The con- trast was too affecting."* Count Lemaistre's touching story, entitled, from the scene of its incidents, the leper of Aost, illustrates the ef- fects of the principle of association now under considera- tion. Like all persons, affected with the leprosy, the sub- ject of the disease is represented as an object of dread no less than of pity to other.-, and while he is an outcast from the society of men, he is a loathsome spectacle even Virrative of the Captivity, >S:r.. of Mr=. JohnsoQ. 2*j LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. to himself. But what is the condition of his mind ? What are the subjects of his thoughts? The tendencies of his intellectual nature prevent his thinking of wretchedness alone. His extreme misery aggravates itself by suggest- ing scenes of ideal happiness, and his mind revels in a paradise of delights, merely to give greater intensity to his actual woes by contrasting them with imaginary bliss. — " I represent to myself continually (says the Leper) so- cieties of sincere and virtuous friends ; families, blessed with health, fortune, and harmony. I imagine, I see them walk in groves, greener and fresher, than these, the shade of which makes my poor happiness; brightened by a sun more brilliant, than that, which sheds its beams on me ; — And their destiny seems to me as much more worthy of envy, in proportion as my own is the more miserable." §. 195. Practical and moral applications of this piinciple. The remarks, made in the preceding section on the leper of Aost, naturally lead us to offer some brief ob- servations on the practical and moral results of this law of association. First ; — It operates as a powerful incitement to ac- tion, and may, therefore, in this respect be said to have a practical application. — A person finds himself poor, un- known, unhonoured. He is fully sensible of the position, which he holds, and it is a source of mortification and grief. But while he is deeply sensible of his poverty, ob- scurity, and want of influence, the busy interference of this law of his mental constitution constantly brings up in his mind the ideas of wealth, of honour, and of notoriety. As gilded edifices, although equally distant, appear near- er, than those of a less splendid exterior ; so when the mind paints before us bright images of future good, we think them almost within our grasp, because we so dis- tinctly behold them. As, therefore, the principle of con- trast suggests to us some future happiness, when we are sensible, that our present condition and enjoyment are below what they might and should be, it may fairly be laid down among its good, practical results, that it fur- LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 22? nishes us with an incitement to exertion. And the more so, as the views, which it presents to the mind, are gener- ally distinct, and their influence will, of consequence, be proportionally augmented. Second ; — It may be considered as one of the moral results of this principle, that it operates as a source of happiness to us, whenever those objects, which we have any length of time been in pursuit of, are obtained. The principle of contrast leads us back to what we were be- fore ; we look down from our present circumstances as from a height, and the altitude, which we now occupy, seems to be increased, by the recollection of our former depressions. Third; — Let it be remarked further, that conscience owes a great part of the power, which it is able to exer- cise over the wicked, to this principle. It is from a knowledge of its tendencies, that solitary confinements have been so strongly recommended in public peniten- tiaries. Separate the prisoner from his associates, leave his thoughts to follow each other as nature prompts, and what will be the subjects of them? He will think of what he once was, and compare it with what he now is. He will place side by side a good name with a bad one, the charms of virtue with the deformities of vice, honour and dishonour, wretchedness and bliss, till the agitations of his own bosom, the lashes of his own conscience become far more terrible than chains, or any species of corporeal inflictions. But it will be said, does not this principle of the mind operate in the same way in respect to the good, when they have been unfortunate ? It undoubtedly does. They think, and cannot do otherwise, of their former prosperity ; and their present ill success and depression appears the greater in consequence of such remembrances. But hap- pily they are supported by a consciousness of rectitude un- der what might be otherwise insupportable. It is a re- ma jk of Goldsmith, expressed in his happy manner, that one of the noblest objects in the universe is a good man. struggling with adversity. 228 LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. §. 196. This principle of association the foundation of antithesis. In writers of acknowledged taste and discernment, we find the rhetorical figure of antithesis employed, which is the placing of two objects or ideas in opposition. The fact, that such writers occasionally employ this figure, might lead us to suppose, (which is the truth,) that it has its foundation in the human mind, viz. in the principle of association, to which we give the name of contrast. In one of the tragedies of Southern we find certain expres- sions, which are here introduced not only in illustration of the general principle, but as happily exemplifying some remarks in the preceding section. "Could I forget " What I have been, I might the better bear "What I am destined to. I am not the first, " That have been wretched ; — But to think how much " I have been happier. Here the present is placed in opposition with the past, and happiness is contrasted with misery ; not by a cold and strained artifice, but by the natural impulses of the mind, which is led to associate together things, that are the reverse of each other. I say not by a cold artifice but naturally ; — for what man ever was there, or can be, that has been cast down from the heights of fortune, whether it have happened with his guilt or his innocence, and does not most readily and unavoidably look back from his pres- ent depressed condition to his former prosperities ? In the poem of the Pleasures of Hope there is this passage. •' Yet at thy call the hardy tar pursued, " Pale, but intrepid, sad, but unsubdued. As paleness is an appearance of the countenance, which is sometimes understood to indicate fear or cowardice, there is occasion given to mention the opposite ; the mind naturally thinks of it. A similar remark will apply to the la«t clause of the stanza, and the whole passage is not on- ly spirited, but one of great ease and beauty. The often repeated eulogium of Mr. Burke on the phi- lanthropic Howard is a fine instance of this figure, and LAWS OF MENTAL ASEOCIAT1 shows to what good purpose it may bo applied on suita- ble occasions by persons of genius. — " II" ha- visited all Europe, — not to survey the surnptuousness oi' palaces, or the stateliness of temples ; not to make accurate measure- ments of the remains of ancient grandeur, not to form a scale oi* the curiosity of modern arts, nor to collect med- als or collate manuscripts; — but to dive into the depths of dungeons ; to plunge into the infection of hospitals ; to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain ; to take the guage and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt, to remember the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, and compare and collate the distresses of all men in all countries." — This figure of rhetoric, there- fore, being founded in our mental constitution, is some- times employed with success, but whenever there is such frequency in |jie u ■ of it, as to betray artifice rather than natural emotion, it loses its effect, and becomes a vice rather than an excellence in style. Antithesis is frequently employed, and to very good purpose, in short moral sayings, and in any writings what- ever, which purposely adopt the concise and emphatic method of aphorisms. It is a great object with writers of this kind to have their sayings remembered. In throwing them into the form of antitheses, they afford great help to the memory, because when one part of the aphoristic sen- tence is known, the power of association, i | by the principle or law of contrast, immediately calls up the con- trasted or parallel part of it. §. 107. Contiguity the third generator primary law. Those thoughts and feelings, whichhave been connect- ed together by nearness of time and place, are readily suggested by each other; and, consequently, contiguity in those respects is rightly reckoned, as another and third pri- mary law of our mental associations. When we think of Palestine, for instance, we very readily and naturally think of the Jewish nation, of the patriarchs, of the propli- ► . of the Saviour, and of the apostles, because Palestine wis their place of residence, and the theatre of their ac- 30 5230 LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION". tions. So that, this is evidently an instance, where the suggestions are chiefly regulated by proximity of place. When a variety of acts and events have happened nearly at the same period, whether in the same place or not, one is not thought of without the other being closely associa- ted with it, owing to proximity of time. If, therefore, the particular event of the crucifixion of the Saviour be men- tioned, we are necessarily led to think of various other events, which occurred about the sariie period, such as the treacherous conspiracy of Judas, the denial of Peter, the conduct of the Roman soldiery, the rending of the veil of the temple, and the temporary obscuration of the sun. The mention of Egypt suggests the Nile, the Pyramids, Cnssar, Cleopatra, the battle of Aboukir. The naming of the American revolution immediately fills the mind with recollections of Washington, Greene, and fciany of their associates, whose fortune it was to enlist their exertions in behalf of freedom in the same Gountry and at the same period. The following passage from captain King's continuation of Cooke's last voyage furnishes a remarkable example of the operations of this principle; — "While we were at din- ner in this miserable hut, on the banks of the river, Awats- ka, and the guests of a people, with whose existence we had before been scarce acquainted, and at the extremity of the habitable globe, a solitary, half-worn, pewter spoon, who^e shape was familiar to us, attracted our attention; and, on examination, we found it stamped on the back with the word, London. I cannot pass over this circumstance in silence out of gratitude for the many pleasant thoughts, the anxious hopes, and tender remembrances it excited in us. Those, who have experienced the effects, that long absence, and extreme distance from their native country produce in the mind, will readily conceive the pleasure such a trifling incident can give." — The beauty of this il- lustration consists not so much in the city or place having been suggested in consequence of their seeing its name impressed on the pewter spoon, although this may be sup- posed to have happened on the principle of contiguity, as * LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 2.JJ in the circumstance, that such a multitude of other pleasing recollections thronged around the memory of that place. When they thought of London, thej thought of their homes ; they thought of the inmates of those home- ; they thought <»i' a thousand incidents which they had there witnessed ; a striking illustration of the degree of importance, which may be accumulated on the most tri- vial circumstance, when that circumstance can be made to connect itself effectually with any general principles of our mental constitution. That, which we have set down, as the third general law of mental association, is more extensive in its influence than any others. It has been remarked with truth, that proximity in time and place forms the whole calender of tiie great mas? of mankind. They pay but little attention toth arbitrary eras of chronology; but date events by- each other, and speak of what happened at the time of some dark day, or of some great eclipse, or of some war or revolution, or when one neighbour built a h<-. U se, or another i child. The practice of associating a considerable number of facts with some place, or with some event too prominent and wonderful to be easily forgotten, is the great and almost the only instrument, which the mass of people employ in retaining the multitude of particulars of a personal or local nature. ^. 108. Cause and effect the fourth primary law. There are certain facts or events, which hold to each other the relation of invariable antecedence and sequence. That fact or event, to which some other one sustains the relation of constant antecedence, is in general called an ef- fect ; — And that fact or event, t>» wlii-h some other one holds the relation of invariable sequence, has in general the name of a cause, Now there may be no resemblance in the things, which reciprocally bear this relation, there may be no contrariety, and it is by no means necessary, that I here should be contiguity in time or place, as the meaning of the term, contiguity, is commonly understood. There may be causjb and effect without anv one or all of these 233 LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. circumstances. But it is a fact, which is known to everj one's experience, that when we think of the cause in any particular instance, we naturally think of the effect, and, on the contrary, the knowledge or recollection of the effect brings to mind the cause ; — And in view of this well-known and general experience, there is good reason for reckoning cause and effect among the general principles of our mental associations. What we here understand by prin- ciples or laws will be recollected, viz. The general desig- nation of those circumstances, under which the regular con- secution of mental states occurs. It is on the principle of cause and effect,that when we see a surgical instrument or any engine of torture, we have an idea of the pain, which they are fitted to occasion, and for a moment are tempted to imagine, that we ourselves are partially the subjects of it. The sight of a wound, in- flicted however long before, suggests to us the instrument, by which it was made. When we witness any of our fel- low beings in distress, we naturally think of the particular cause of it, if we know what it is; and if we are ignorant, we make it a subject of inquiry. When we have good news to communicate, we please ourselves with the thought of the joy, which it will occasion, and the bearer of afflictive tidings cannot but anticipate the grief, which the annun- ciation of them will produce. §. 199. Secondary laws of mental association. There are a variety of circumstances, which modify and slightly control the influence of the general laws of asso- ciation, and these by way of distinction are called secon- dary. They arc as follows ; — (1) Our mental states will, in the first place, be more or less readily associated, according as they existed togeth- er for a greater or less length of time at first. Innumerable objects pass before us, which but very slightly arrest our at- tention ; and although a connection is formed among them by the general principles of association, the connection is weak and easily broken, and always of short duration. We cannot, therefore, in general rely on the future remem- LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 238 brance of objects, unless we feel so much interest in them, lead us to dwell on them for some time. — (2) The probability of our mental states being associated by the genera] laws, will depend in some measure, secondly, on the character of the original feelings, and will be greater or less, according as those feelings were more or less lively. Bright objects are more readily recalled, than faint or ob- scure : also great joys and sorrows, while the many slight pleasures and pains, which are constantly occurring, are almost instantly forgotten. (3) The parts of any mental train are the more readily suggested, thirdly, iu proportion as they have been the more frequently renewed. Having lead a sentence a number of times, we find ourselves able to repeat it out of book, which we could not do with merely reading it once. (4) In the fourth place, our trains of thought and emo- tions will be found to be more or less strongly connected, according as they are more or hss rectal. We remember many incidents, even pf a trifling nature, which occurred to-day or the present week, while those of yesterday or of last week are forgotten. There is an exception to this law. which should be mentioned. The associated feelings of old men, which were formed in their youth and the early part of manhood, are more readily revived, than those of later origin. This point will be further remarked on in the chapter on memory. This exception, however, it may be observed here, does not hold universally, even in the of extreme age. The general rule holds, when the time is not extended far back. Events, which happened but a few hours before, are remembered, while there is an utter forgetfulness of those, which happened a few weeks or even days before. (5) Our feelings, in the fifth place, are associated m str ongly, as each has coexisted less with other feelings. When we have heard a song but from one person, it c id scarcely be heard by u- again without recalling that per- . >iy. If we have heard the same words and air frequently sung by others, ther ;- much L^s 204 LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. (6) The primary or general laws of association arc modified, in the sixth place, by diversities in temper and disposition.— In the minds of two persons, the one of a cheerful, the other of a gloomy disposition, the trains of thought will be very different. This difference is finely illustrated in those beautiful poems of Milton, l'allecro and il fenseroso. L'allegko or the cheerful man finds pleasure and cheerfulness in every object, which he be- holds ; — The great sun puts on his amber light, the mower whets his scythe, the milk-maid sings, " And every shepherd tells bis tale "Under the hawthorn in the dale. But the man of a melancholy disposition, il penseroso. chooses the evening for his walk, as most suitable to the temper of his mind ; he listens from some lonely hillock to the distant curfew, and loves to hear the song of that " sweet bird. That shun'st the noise of folly, " Most musical, most melancholy. Further; — Our trains of suggested thoughts will be. modified by those temporary feelings, which may be re- garded, as exceptions to the more general character of our dispositions. The cheerful man is not always cheerful, nor is the melancholy man at all times equally sober and contemplative. They are known to exchange charac- ters for short periods, sometimes in consequence of good or ill health, or of happy or adverse fortune, and some- times for causes, which cannot be easily explained. So that our mental states will be found to follow each other, with a succession, varying not only with the general char- acter of our temper and dispositions, but with the transi- tory emotions of the day or hour. (7) The trains of our suggestions are modified, in the seventh place, by our particular pursuit or profession in life. — When men of different pursuits or professions read a book, or hear a story, it will be seen, that they associate very different ideas with what they hear or read. If a traveller happens in their company, the man of letters im- mediately inquires what new works are about i<> he pub- LAWS OF MENTAL ASSO ' VT!<>\. lisbed in his country: the merchant is anxious to hear of the price of wheat or iron; the soldier insists on knowing, who is to take the place of the general or field-marshal lately displaced ; and the politician requests an explana- tion of the late manifesto, or to be informed of the articles of the new constitution. (S) The general or primary principle-, by which our thoughts are connected together, are modified, eighthly, by an additional circumstance of so much influence, aa to entitle it to be reckoned among the secondary laws of as- sociation; viz.. constitutional differences in mental character. — Whether the origin of such differences, is to be referred to the mind itself, or to varieties in bodily temperament, is not necessary for our present purpose to be inquired into. Admitting the existence of such original diversities, we may suppose them, in the first place, to have the ef- fect either of limiting and weakening, or of extending and augmenting the power of all the primary laws of associa- tion. In other words, they have a. general influence, either favourable or unfavourable. The great varieties in the power of remembering, which are so often observed, may be attributed chiefly to this secondary law, and to that form of its influence, which has just been supposed, and is a proof of the correctness of this supposition. — But original, constitutional differences sometimes modify thr: influence of the four general and primary laws of associa- tion in another and less impartial way ; viz., by giving greater strength to one set of associations, than to anoth- er. Thus. — the mental associations, which are formed and sustained on the principle of resemblance or analog] . constitute one class : those, which are connected by the law of contiguity, form another; and here it is, that we mark a distinction in the mental operations of men. which we think must be ascribed to original diversities in the in- tellectual organization. In one mind, for instance, the as- sociations, which are ranked under one of th es, are easily and readily suggested; the other closs of associations is not ; — but observe another person, in whom 'Awro i>. as we contend, a constitutional difference, and we 536 LAWS OI'' MENTAL ASSOCIATION. find, that it is just the reverse, and the class of associa- tions, which in the first instance were easily suggested, are, in the latter case, suggested with great difficulty. One mind perceives the resemblances of objects, wheth- er more or less obvious, and their relations of cause and effect; another mind of a different constitution observes only their contiguity in time and place. The fact is unde- niable ; and the solution, which we propose, as on the whole the least exceptionable, is, that there are in men certain natural or constitutional differences, attributable originally either to the mind exclusively, or to the influ- ence of the physical system over the mind, or perhaps to both. The laws of association may here properly be given in a condensed view, as follows. The general principles or laws of association, which are sometimes called the prima- ry laws, are these, resemblance, contrast, contiguity in time and place, and cause- and effect. — The secondary laws of association, which give such great variety to the results of the primary principles, are these ; — (1) Differen- ces in the length of time of the co-existence of the asso- ciated feelings at first ; — (2) Their greater or less degree of liveliness ; — (3) The frequency of their renewal ; — (4) The circumstance of their being more or less recent ;— (5) The degree or extent of their co-existence with other feelings ;— (G) Diversities in temper and disposition; — (7) The influence of particular professions and pursuits ; — (8) Certain constitutional differences in mental character. §.200. Of genius, and its resolution into particular tendencies of association. With the general subject of association, that of genius seems to be closely connected. Whoever has those men- tal qualities, which, when applied to some particular art or science, enable their possessor to excel in it, is com- monly called a man of genius. One man is said to have a genius for mathematics, another for poetry; the genius of one lays in politics, and of another in the mechanic arts. Hence the common definition of this desirable en- dowment has been this, — A talent or aptitude given us by LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 237 uature, in order to excel in any one thing whatever. But stated in other, and, as we conceive, in more philosoph- ical language, because it intimates with greater precision the ground or cause of this aptitude to excel, genius is a constitutional tendency, to form mental associations on the principles of resemblance, of contrast, and of cause and effect. Persons, who discover a prevailing or constitutional inclination to form associations on the law of contiguiti in time and place, are justly considered to be wanting in those penetrating and effective qualities, which are impli- ed in genius. With jwst claims to the character of good neighbours and useful citizens, and with undoubted apti- tude to excel in the manual practice of the mechanical arts, they cannot reasonably be expected to give new beauties to literature, or new truths to science. §. 201. Prevailing laws of association in poetry and in the sciences. Although the primary laws of association, excepting contiguity, enter more or less into the constitution of ge- nius, they do not always exist and operate with the same degree of power in the same individual. In poetical ge- nius, the law of resemblance or analogy appears to pre- dominate. Thus, Lucan, in the poem of the Pharsalia, compares Pompey, the hero of the Poem to an aged and leafless oak, which is mighty, and venerable in its desola- tion. Goldsmith illustrates the religious character of his Village Pastor, as exhibited in relation to his present tri- als and his future hopes, by likening him to the mountain cliff, whose centre is girded with storms, but whose top is glowing with sunshine. Undoubtedly, these are resem- blances, which would not have occurred to persons, whose thoughts were chiefly governed by the law of contiguity. Philosophical genius, in its various applications, im- plies not only perceptions of analogies, but associations of thought, governed by the law of cause and effect. A mind of this character readily passes from the things them- selves to their results ; and from the observation of some resemblance in present objects or events, it clearly fore- 31 238 LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. sees a corresponding analogy in the consequences, which are to follow. But then it is to be observed, that a man may have much philosophical knowledge, without being a philosophical genius ; he may learn all, that others have discovered, without being able to make discoveries himself. From the above remarks in this section, it would seem to follow, that the elements of genius approach each oth- er, and are very nearly the same in the different depart- ments of literature and science. But how happens it, that men, whose intellectual character in its elementary constitution so nearly approximates, devote themselves to pursuits so different both in their nature and results ? The most obvious reply, is, that* we are influenced bv a great variety of circumstances^ and are not unfrequeritly influenced by them, when we are ourselves not fully sen- sible of it ; such as the mental character of those, with whom we associate, local scenery, natural disposition, cli- mate, government, early reading, &c. These give a di- rection to those qualities, which constitute genius • and it happens in this way, that of those persons, whose mental capabilities were originally the same, one gives ljimself to the science of laws, another to natural philosophy, anoth- er to poetry, another to some other of the fine arts. These views readily suggest an explanation of differ- ences in degrees or strength of genius. There may be a tendency in different individuals to form associations on laws, which involve the resemblances or the relations of objects, rather than on the law of mere contiguity ; and this is the prominent circumstance in securing to them the character in question. But it does not follow, that this trait exists in the same degree and with the same strength in all. In some it is more, in others less. To a few the power of perceiving the analogies, and dissimilitudes, and general relations of things is exceedingly great ; — and it is to these alone that we can rightly give the credit of great geniuses, of being the " lights of their age." Note. Genius, in the abstract sciences, and in the arts, involving scientific principles, makes itself known by LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION '>^«> inventions and discoveries. But there is a difference be- tween the two. Mr. Stewart, in remarking (elements, vol. i., cn.v.) on invention in the arts and sciences, thus states and illustrates the distinction. '■ Before we proceed, it may be proper to take no- tice of the distinction between Invention and Discov- ery. The object of the former, as has been frequently remarked, is to produce something which had no existence before ; that of the latter, to bring to light something which did exist, but which was concealed from common observation. Thus we say, Otto Guerricke invented the air-pump ; Sanctorius invented the thermometer ; Newton and Gregory invented the reflecting telescope ; Galileo discovered the solar spots; and Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood. It appears, therefore, that im- provements in the Arts are properly called inventions ; and that facts, brought to light by means of observation, are ijl j^orly called discoveries. Aireeable to this analogy is the use, which we make \e words, when we apply them to subjects purely intellectual. As truth is eternal and immutable, and has no dep%idence on our belief or disbelief of it, a person, who brings to light a truth formerly unknown, is said to make a discovery. A person, on the other hand, who contrives a new method of discovering truth, is called an inventor. Pythagoras, we say, discovered the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid's first book ; Newton discovered the binomial theorem ; but he invented the method of prime and ultimate ratios; and he invented the method effluxions. In general, every advancement in know ledge is con- sidered as a discovery ; every contrivance, by which we produce an effect, or accomplish an end, is considered as an invention. Discoveries in science, therefore, unless they are made by accident, imply the exercise of inven- tion ; and, accordingly, the word invention is commonh used to express originality of genius in the sciences, as well as in the arts." UO LAWS OP MENTAL ASSOCIATION. §. 202. Dependence of transitions in style on association. It requires skill rightly to manage the transitions in a discourse or poem, to conduct the hearer or reader from one topic to another without violence to his feelings, and without injury to the natural order, clearness, and interest of the subject. No transitions seem to be admissible, but such as are suggested by association, either by the prima- ry laws alone, or as they are modified by the secondary Jaws. But when that power holds out a number of ways, in which the passing from one topic to another can be ef- fected, the writer has an opportunity to discover his skill in the selection. In Goldsmith's poem of the Traveller, the nature of the subject requires frequent transitions, and they are happily managed. In one part of his poem, he describes the descendants of the Romans in their state of effeniina- •cy and debasement; but how does it happen, that imme- diately after he undertakes a description of the character of the Swiss? In speaking of the present inhabitants of Italy, he sees hardly any thing but indications of indolence and luxury, — but little of vigour, of hardship, o^ancient truth. He is led, therefore, by the principle of contrast, to think of conduct, characters, and situations directly the reverse. To think, then, of the Swiss under such circum- stances seemed to be almost unavoidable ; "My soul turn from them— turn we to survey, "Where rougher climes a nobler race display, " Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread, " And fcrce a churlish soil for scanty bread. §. 203. Of associations suggested by present objects of perception. Associated thoughts and emotions, when made to pass through the mind by some sound, which the ear has caught, by some object, which has met the eye, or any present object of perception whatever, are vivid and strong. As- sociations, which do not admit any of our present percep- tions as a part of the associated train, cannot but impress us, as being in some measure airy and unsubstantial, how- ever distinct. We deeply feel, that they are part of the experiences of departed days, and which, in departing LAWS OP MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 241 from us, have become almost, as if they had never been. Hut let them partake of our present experience, of what we now feel and know to exist, and they seem to gain new strength ; the remembrances are not only distinct, but what was airy and unsubstantial fades away, and they have life, and power, and form. How often, in the wanderings of life, are we led by some apparently accidental train of thought to the recol- lection of the residence of our early years and of the inci- dents, which then occurred ! The associations are inter- esting, but we find it difficult to make them permanent, and they are comparatively faint. But let there be con- nected with that train of thought the present sound of some musical instrument, which we then used to hear, and of our favourite tune, and it will be found, that the reality of the tune blends itself with the airy conceptions of the mind, and, while we kindle with an illusive rapture, the whole seems to be real. Some illustrations may tend to make these statements more clear, and to confirm them. It is related in one of the published Lectures of Dr. Rush, that an old native African was permitted by his mas- ter, a number of years since, to go from home in order to see a lion, that was conducted as a show through the state of New Jersey. He no sooner saw him, than he was so transported with joy, as to express his emotions by jump- ing, dancing, and loud acclamations, notwithstanding the torpid habits of mind and body, superinduced bv half a century of slavery. He had known that animal, when a boy in his native country, and the sight of him suddenly revived the memory of his early enjoyments, his native land, his home, his associates, and his freedom. There is in the same writer another interesting instance of the power of association, in which he himself had a part, and which will be given in his own words. — " During - the time I passed at a country-school, in Cecil County, in Maryland, I often went on a holiday, with my schoolmates, to see an eagle's nest, upon the summit of a dead tree in the neighbourhood of the school, during the time of the incubation of that bird. The daughter of the farmer, in 243 LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIAG whose field this tree stood, and with whom I becair* quainted, married, and settled in this city about forty years ago. In our occasional interviews, we now and then spoke of the innocent haunts and rural pleasures of our youth, and, among other things, of the eagle's nest in her father*.- field. A few years ago, I was called to visit this woman when she was in the lowest stage of a typhus fever. Up- on entering her room, I caught her eye, and, with a cheer- ful tone of voice, said only, ' The eagle's nest.'' She seized my hand, without being able to speak, and discovered strong emotions of pleasure in her countenance, probably from a sudden association of all her early domestic connec- tions and enjoyment with the words I had uttered.* From that time she began to recover. She is now living, and seldom fails, when we meet, to salute me with the echo of the ' eagle's nest.' " From such illustrations it would seem to be sufficient- ly clear, that, whenever associated thoughts and emotions are connected with any present perceptions, they are pe- culiarly strong and vivid. They steal into all the secret, chambers of the soul, and seemingly by some magic pow- er impart a deep intensity to its feelings, and give to the fleeting world of memory the stability of real existence. There are two causes, why such associated feelings should possess more than ordinary strength and vividness. (1) The particular train of thought and feeling, which is excited in the mind, continues longer than in other ca- ses, in consequence of the greater permanency and fixed- ness of the present objects of perception, which either sug- gested the train, or make a part. of it. So long as the lion was permitted to remain in the sight of the aged African, so long without interruption was the series of delightful thoughts kept up within him. The bright images, which threw him into such raptures, and awoke stupidity itself, were not fleeting away with every breath, but remained permanent. The sick lady of Philadelphia saw the physician, with whom she had been acquainted in the early part of life. * Rush's Introductory Lectures, xi. LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 3491 By the mention of the eagle's nest, he vHdly recalled the scenes of those young days. But it was the presence of the person, whose observation had given rise to the train of association, which contributed chiefly to keep it so long in her thoughts. Had it occurred merely from some acci- dental direction of her own mind, without any present ob- ject, which had made a part of it, no doubt her sufferings <>r other circumstances would soon have banished it. (2) The second cause of the increased vividness of as- sociations, suggested by a present object of perception or combined with it, is this, viz. The reality of the thing per- ceived is communicated in the illusions of the moment to the thine: suggested. — The trees of the desert were the hiding place of the lion, when the African saw him in early life ; and now, after the lapse of so many years, he ima- gines, that, in the quickened eye of his mind, he beholds the forests of his native soil, because he has before him the proud and powerful animal, that crouched under their shade. And the presence of the monarch of the forest gives a reality not only to woods and deserts; but by a communication of that, which exists to that, which is merely suggested, the whole group of his early experien- ces of whatever kind, so far as they are recalled, virtually acquire a like truth and reality. These remarks may be properly applied to explain a recent strong manifestation of feeling in a whole people. The citizens of the United States have a multitude of pa- triotic associations, connected with their revolutionary war. But those associations, owing to length of time, were by degrees growing dim on the minds of the aged, and made a still more diminished impression on those of the young. In the years eighteen hundred twenty four and five, L:i Fayette, the only surviving revolutionary officer of the grade of major-general, came from France on a visit to this country to see once more the people, for whom he had fought in his youth. All classes Hocked to behold him. and to grasp his hand. Nothing could exceed the deep feeling, which existed from one part of the republic to the other. But it was not the individual merely, however 244 LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. strongly the people were attached to him, that awoke such a happy and lofty enthusiasm. All the events and all the characters of the revolution exist to the present genera- tion in associated states of the mkid, and, as La Fayette had long formed a part in those ideal associations, when we were so fortunate, as to see him with our own eyes and touch him with our own hands, the Revolution then seemed in a new sense to be real, and all its scenes were embodied before us. All his associates in suffering and danger, all the renowned names that once fought by his side, were concentred in himself. The reality of the living seemed to spread itself into the shadowy images of the dead ; and thus the presence of this distinguished individual created not only a virtual re-existence, but a virtual presence for those revolutionary worthies, who are destined to maintain a cherished and permanent resting-place in the hearts of American citizens. It is in this deep and fond illusion, that we are, in part at least, to seek for the cause of the overwhelming emotion, which was exhibited. In all the cases, which have been mentioned, the asso- ciated feelings were intensely powerful; a multitude of other instances, occurring indeed every day, illustrate the same idea, that they are strong and vivid in an unusual de- cree, when suggested by, or combined with a present ob- ject of perception. The two circumstances, which have been mentioned, seem to be the most obvious and satisfac- tory reasons, which can be given in explanation of the fact. These remarks suggest a rule of some practical conse- quence to writers of poems, romances, and other works of imagination. They should lay the scene of their works, where there are human beings ; not in the fanciful regions of 'Utopia/ 'Arcadia,' and ' Faery Land.' They should describe men. women, and human nature in its various forms, and local scenery, as they are : and then we can sympathize. We can at least say, that we have seen such beings as they describe, and perhaps that we have travel- led in the very region of their residence, and amid its scene- ry. Our personal experiences will give a permanency, and substantiality, and consequently a greater interest to LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 2 I - the descriptions of the writer, which we might otherwise reject, as being unnatural, or at least affected, and better suited to other classes of beings, than ourselves. §. 204. Historical remarks on the doctrine of association. Although the tendency of one idea or state of the mind to suggest another must have ever been so obvious as to be generally observed, it required something more than the ordinary powers of discernment and classification, to hit upon those general principles, by which the associations are regulated. Aristotle, in treating of memory, speaks of these principles or laws in part, and is the first, who is known to have laid down any general rules. He says, that the relations, by which we are led in seeking after or tracing out those thoughts, which do not at once occur, are chiefly three ; resemblance, contrast^ and contig- uity/. There is an interesting passage in Cicero on the influ- ence of association in the fifth book de finibus. His re- marks illustrate particularly the results of the principle of contiguity. They also strikingly confirm the fact in the doctrine of association, that suggested trains of thought will be more vivid, when they are in some way connected with present objects of perception. Mr. Locke in his Essay on the Human Understanding- added a chapter in the fourth edition on the subject of as- sociation. This chapter, although it must be confessed to be a very imperfect one, compared with what has since been written on the subject, is mentioned with commenda- tion by Dugald Stewart,* and he thinks, it has contributed as much as any thing else in Locke's writings to the subse- quent progress of intellectual philosophy. The first edi- tion of the Essay on the Human Understanding was pub- lished in 1G90. Ernesti, in his initia doctrinae solidioris, published m 173-1, enters into the subject somewhat particularly. "Historical Dissertation, Pt. II, §. 1.,— Review of the Pliilo?' :i!,ical works of Locke and Leibnitz. 32 r ;4G LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. He begins with stating the fact of the existence of asso- ciation, or that the states of the mind are in some way connected together. He then proceeds to give the gen- eral law, by which this connection or consecution of states happens, as follows; — Any thought or image in the mind has the power of suggesting the idea of some absent ob- ject. It may suggest one; that is in some respects similar to itself, — or one, of which the present is a part, — or one, which has been present together with it on some former occasion. Mr. Hume gave much attention to this subject. In an Essay on the association of ideas, he uses the following expressions. — " Though it be too obvious to escape obser- vation, that different ideas are connected together, I do not find, that any philosopher has attempted to enumerate or class all the principles of association ; a subject, how- ever, that seems worthy of curiosity. To me there appear to be only three principles of connection among ideas, viz. resemblance, contiguity in time and place, and cause and effect." It is clearly implied in this statement of Mr. Hume, that he was ignorant of the passage in Aristotle above re- ferred to. It will also be seen that he diifers from that view, which has been adopted in this work in respect to the primary laws of association, in excluding contrast from the number of them. He considers contrast a mix- ture of resemblance and causation ; but such is the se- rious, if not insuperable difficulty, attending this proposed analysis, that it has very justly failed of a general appro- bation. The doctrine of association makes a considerable fig- ure in the Observations on Man of Dr. Hartley. This work was published in the beginning of 1749. Dr. Hart- ley does not content himself with giving the mere facts of our mental operations, which are always valuable, how- ever difficult they may be in some cases to be explained ; but undertakes also to point out the precise connection of the origin of those facts with certain previous states of the corporeal system. He supposes, that every impression on LAWS OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION 247 the senses, caused by an external object, is propagated from the external body to the brain by means of vibrations in the nervous system, or rather by means of the oscilla- ting motion of vibratory particles or vibratiuncles in the nerves. 'e expressly compares the vibrations or the mo- tions backwards and forwards to the oscillations of pendu- lums and the tremblings of the particles of sounding bod- ies. When the vibration antecedent to one idea is in any degree whatever coincident with the vibration of another idea, the recurrence of either of them will have the effect to cause the repetition of the other, and of course the re- petition of the idea or mental state. In this way he has proposed to account, not only for the rise or origin of those ideas, which come into the mind from things exter- nal to us, but for the existence of the great law of asso- ciation. But his speculations on these points, which do not so much concern the facts themselves as their causa- tion or physical history, have been in general regarded, as bordering too much on hypothesis to be particularly de- serving of attention. Almost all recent writers on intellectual philosophy have entered more or less into the subject of association. This was to be expected from its acknowledged impor- tance, whether we consider its practical applications, or its connection with the other mental susceptibilities. The subject is particularly examined, among other writers of merit, by Stewart, and in the lectures ofSrown. To the latter, it would appear, that we are exclusively indebted for the investigation and analysis of the secondary laws of association. See Stewart's Elements, Vol. I, ch. v ; Brown's Philosophy of the Human Mind, Leots. xxxv — xl< CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH, CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. §. 205. Association sometimes misleads our judgments. J. here are some cases, where the power of associa- lion so misleads us, that we cannot easily form a correct judgment of the true nature of things. Every object of thought, in order to be fully understood, ought to be so much in our power, that we may examine it separately from all other objects. Whenever, therefore; it happens from any circumstances, that the power of association so combines one object of thought with another, that the ob- ject cannot readily be looked at and examined by itself, it so far has the effect to perplex and hinder correct judg- ment. It will be found, when we look into our minds, that there exist a few associations or combinations of thought of this kjnd, which are obstinate and almost in- vincible; and there are very many of a less degree of strength, but which have a considerable effect in disturb- ing the just exercise of the intellect, and require much tare in their detection and eradication. The latter class will be examined at some length in the chapter on preju- dices ; — some prominent instances of the former class will be considered here, and, for the want of a better phraseology, we shall arrange them together under the head of casual connections of thought. Of these a number of instances deserve a special at- lenfjon. To explain the origin and to correct the erronc- "us tendencies of all such connections of thought, al - CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 2* though the number of such as we have now in view can- not be large, would occupy us too long. The examina- tion of a few somewhat striking instances will not only throw light on the philosophy of the mind in general, but will be of some practical benefit. §. 206. Connection of our ideas of extension and time. Extension is reckoned among the simple ideas, al- though it is derived from more than one sense ; it is, therefore, difficult to define it so as to make it more clear, than it has already become by each one's experience. It perhaps approaches the nearest to a definition or rather description of it, to say, that it is the distance between the parts of the same object, where in the intermediate parts there is a continuity of the same substance. — We get the idea of time, which comes under the class of sim- ple modes, by considering any part of duration, as set or marked oft' by periodical measures, such as hours, days, or years. It is well known, whatever may be the cause of it, that people are generally in the habit of considering time, as a sort of modification of space or extension. This observation may not appear perfectly obvious at first. But the expressions, which we apply to intervals of dura- tion, are an evidence of its truth. We say before such a time or after such a time, the same as before or after any material object ; — we speak of a long or a short time with no more hesitation than of a long or short distance, of a long or short bridge, or rail- way, or any other object of extension. We utter our- selves precisely in the same way we should do, if we were certain of having detected some real analogy between the two, between length and shortness in material substances, and what are called length and shortness in time. But it is not too much to say, that there is no such analogy, no such similitude ; nor is it worth while to anticipate, that we shall ever be able to detect such analogy or similitude, until we can apply the measures of feet, ells, roods, &c. to hours, and days, and weeks. How then can it be ac- counted for. that we apply terms nearly in the same way. 250 CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. as if this were the case, and, as if such measurements could be made ? The strong association of these ideas has most proba- bly arisen in this manner, viz., from our constantly mea- suring one of these quantities by the other. It is the common method to measure time by motion, and motion is measured by extension. In an hour the hand of a clock moves over a certain space ; in two hours over double the space, and so on. No doubt it is convenient to apply the terms "long" and "short," "before" and "after," and others similar, to time. We could not well dispense with them. But it ought to be remembered, if we would have right notions of things, that the application of those ex- pressions has arisen from the mode in which we measure time, and that time and space or that modification of space which we call extension are essentially distinct in their nature. §. 207. Of high and low notes in music. We speak of high and low in reference to notes in music, the same as of the high or low position of material bodies. There is supposed to be some analogy between the relation, which the notes in the scale of music bear to each other, and the relation of superiority and inferior- ity in the position of bodies of matter. But it is impossi- ble to prove the existence of such analogy, however gen- erally it may have been supposed ; and the supposition itself of its existence has no doubt arisen from a casual association of ideas, or, in the expressions placed at the head of this chapter, in a casual connection of thought. A proof of this association of ideas being purely accident- al is that an association, the very reverse of this, was once prevalent. — It is remarked in the preface to Gregory's edition of Euclid's works, that the more ancient Greek writers considered the grave sounds as high, and the acute ones as low. The present mode of speaking on the sub- ject is of more recent origin ; but at. what time and in what way it was introduced cannot be asserted with con- fidence. In the preface just referred to, it is, however. CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 251. observed, that the ancient Greek custom of loo!"ow as there must be acts of volition, (1) to control the 981 OF INTELLECTUAL HABITS. movements of the eye, and, (2) to control the muscular movements, which are designed to counteract the tenden- cies of the balanced objects, whether those tendencies are learnt from the sight or some other sense, it is evident, that these acts must be exceedingly rapid. As this rapidity or facility of volition is never found in a performer in his first essays, but is acquired by degrees, we may well con- clude, that there are habits of volition, as well as of other mental acts and laws. V» e have a similar illustration of quickened volitions in the performances at the circus. The performer vaults upon a horse, when at full speed ; he rises on the saddle ; he stands upon one foot ; and, in this situation, while his horse is in the most rapid movement, performs a variety of feats, every one of which requires from the mind a mul- titude of distinct acts of association and of the will. §. 2J9, Habits of will or volition further considered. But it is not necessary to refer exclusively to perform- ances of the nature above described, in order to explain the high degree of facility, to which the power of willing may be brought. Perhaps the mere fact of walking, of moving from place to place, which is common to all, pla- ces the subject in an equally clear light. Walking is performed, like the more striking feats of circus actors, equilibrists, and rope-dancers, by means of a series of muscular contractions. In order, therefore, to pro- duce certain movements of the body in walking, it is neces- sary, that certain muscles should be contracted, and not oth- ers ; and that they should be contracted to a definite extent, neither more nor less. Although the muscles, from our very constitution, readily obey the power of willing, yet this power, when aiming to secure the particular object in question, is at first greatly hindered and perplexed, as we see in children. They control, in beginning to walk, the wrong muscles, or control them too little or too much. But after repeated attempts, having corrected their mis- takes, and having formed a habit, they readily govern the requisite movements, so that in walking we are almost OF INTELLECTUAL HABITS. 2G5 unconscious, in subsequent life, of any exertion of the will. In this case, as in others, the powers of the will and of association are both quickened at the same time, the acts of the will being generally preceded by other mental acts, which involve association. §. 2'20. Habits of reasoning and imagination. Views, similar to those already advanced, will apply to the powers of reasoning and of imagination. In moral reasoning, it is often necessary to divide a subject into parts, and whenever this is the case, to give to them a suit- able arrangement. The effect of practice in this respect has been before noticed. On entering still more minute- ly into the nature of reasoning, we discover that the mind compares together various propositions, and ascertains their agreement or disagreement. And here also a read- iness of comparison is easily detected in those, who have been in the practice of reasoning, which is not found in others. The same is true in the imagination. Place in the hands of a child the Arabian Nights and the no less wonderful tales of the iEdda ; let reading of this charac- ter occupy the days of his youth, before the eagerness of curiosity has ceased, and certain habits of imagination will be inevitably formed. That creative power, which is appropriate to it, will be greatly strengthened ; and to his latest days, it will be a strange thing, if he do not indulge in intellectual visions ; calling islands from the deep, erec- ting castles, and doing whatever else forms the theme of the wildest stories of the Scandinavian and Arabian mi- thology. §. 221. Of habits in connection with the emotions and passions. The existence of the same great law of our nature may be detected also in the operation of the emotions and pas- sions. An unfavourable suspicion is indulged by one individual in respect to another ; this suspicion, instead of being effectually examined and checked, is permitted to return ; it often arises, and is found to gain strength from the mere repetition, until it is converted, by the accession of 266 OF INTELLECTUAL HABITS. strength it has received, into positive dislike, and some- times into hatred. The feeling of benevolence is sub- jected to the same general law. If the feeling be indulg- ed, it will gain strength; but if it be subjected to a con- tinued system of repression, it becomes so broken down and weakened, that at last objects of suffering entirely cease to affect us. So marked will be the results of this course, that scenes of widespread misery, such as the rav- ages of famine, war, and pestilence, will fail to operate upon hearts, which, in the youth of their feelings, would have been affected with the least aggravated forms of wretchedness. It is happy for us in the inquiries of intellectual philo- sophy, if we can confirm what inquisitive men have been able to find out in their closets by an insight into the men- tal history of common life ; by a reference to the expe- riences, habits, and prejudices of those, who make no pre- tensions to skill in books. Nor are confirmations of, the principles of this science less valuable, when they are giv- en by scholars, whose calling it is to write upon other subjects, but who at times let fall an incidental testimony in respect to them. Thus in a work of the late President Adams is the following passage, which confirms the views of this section; "The passions are all unlimited ; nature has left them so ; if they could be bounded, they would be extinct ; and there is no doubt they are of indispensa- ble importance in the present system. They certainly in- crease too, by exercise, like the body ; the love of gold grows faster than the heap of acquisition; the love of praise increases by every gratification, till it stings like an adder and bites like a serpent, till the man is miserable every moment he does not snuff the incense ; ambition strengthens at every advance, and at last takes possession of the whole soul so absolutely, that the man sees nothing in the world of importance to others, or himself, but in his object."* * Adam's Defence of the Constitutions of the United States, Vol. I. p. 129.— Philad. Ed. OF INTELLECTUAL HABITS. 35? 5. 222. Of the intellectual habits of men ia active life. The subject under consideration admits of being pla- ced in other lights, and of being confirmed by numerous facts from sources not hitherto mentioned. It is in this portion of our mental history, we are to seek for an expla- nation of that sagacity, which is often shown by Savage tribes in their hunting and military expeditions, and on other occasions. It is here also we are able to give an account of those striking powers of observation, which are observed in the Deaf and Dumb. But without propo- sing to pursue the subject here to its full extent, some- thing remains to be said of the habits of men, who, with- out having received a perfect education, are much occu- pied in the business of common and active life. The mental operations of men in active life are often very rapid, the conclusions, at which they arrive on sub- jects somewhat complicated, are generally correct, but they frequently find themselves unable to state clearly the process of reasoning, by which they arrived at the conclu- sion. Oliver Cromwell, the English Protector, is said to have been a person, to whom this statement would well apply. Rarely any man has had a clearer insight into events, but when he attempted to explain himself, he was confused and obscure. If we were to give his intellectual character in a single sentence, it would be but just to say, that Cromwell was a man of argument, but no speaker. His mind readily insinuated itself into the intricacies of a subject, and while he could assert with confidence, that he had arrived at a satisfactory conclusion, he could not so readily describe either the direction he had taken or the involutions of the journey. This character of the Protector will apply to multitudes of men in active life, although undoubtedly for the most part in a less degree. Their distinguishing traits are two. — an ability to exam- ine with great quickness all the parts of an intricate sub- ject, and an equal want of ability in stating this process to others. Concerning the first of these characteristics, it is suf- ficient to say, that the great readiness, which they exhibit. 2G8 OF INTELLECTUAL HABITS. is a habit, which they have been compelled to form by the circumstances, in which they have been placed. In a thousand emergencies they have been obliged to act with quickness, and at the same time with caution ; in other words, to examine subjects, and to do it with expedition. In this way the habit spoken of has been formed, viz., of exceeding readiness in all their mental acts. The oth- er prominent mental trait in men in active life arises from this great quickness of intellectual operation, which they are capable of putting forth. The minute circumstances, which are examined, previous to a judgment on all subjects of difficulty, are passed in review with such rapidity, are made in so very small a degree or rather for so short a time the objects of separate attention, that they vanish and are forgotten. Hence these persons, although the conclusion to which they have come be "satisfactory, are unable to state to others all the subordinate steps in the argument. Every thing has once been fairly and distinct- ly before their own minds, although with that great rapid- itv, which is always implied in a habit ; but their argu- ment, as stated in words, owing to their inability to arrest and embody all the evanescent processes of thought, ap- pears to others defective and confused. And in truth it is a known fact, that mere men of business have for the most part no small repugnance to stating their views in public. They regard it as a task of much difficulty, as undoubtedly it is to persons of such intellectual habits, When obliged to do it, their only resort is to prepare them- selves in private, to examine again and again their thoughts, to throw them into words and sentences, and to fix the verbal propositions with as much exactness as possibls in the memory ; otherwise they fail to do justice either to themselves or their subject. Stewart's Elements. Vol. I. ch. v. ?t. 2. ; Essays, IV, pt. ii. ; Priestley's E.vamina- tion, Sect. viii. ; Locke's Essay, Bk. II, ch. 33 ; Brown. Lect. xliii, &,c. CHAPTER TWENTIETH. OF ATTENTION. §. 223. Of the general nature of attention. W iTiiotT considering it necessary to speak of atten- tion as a separate intellectual power or faculty, as some may be inclined to do, it seems to be sufficient to say, that attention expresses the state of the maid, when it is steadily directed, for some time, whether longer or shorter, to some object of sense or intellect, exclusive of other ; 'u- jects. When we say, that any external object, or any sub- ject of thought, which is purely internal, receives atten- tion, it seems to be the fact, as for as we are able to deter- mine, that the mind is occupied with the subject <>f its ' attention, whatever it is, for a certain period, and that all other things are, for the time being, shut out. In other words, the grasp, which the mind fixes upon ths object of its contemplations, is an undivided, an unbroken on.-. Bui it is natural to inquire, How this diners from the di- rection of the mind to a subject in any other case ? Since in all instances, the mind, for the time being, is in one state merely; it always embraces one subject or parr of a subject, exclusive of others. The answer to be given to this inquiry is, that in attention the direction of the mind to a particular subject, or, (what is the same thing,) its continuance in a particular state or series of states, is accompanied with a feeling of preference, desire, or est; which feeling ol - the cause of that continu- ance. So that in all cases of attentions the aoi of the 34 270 OP ATTENTION. mind is a complex one, involving two things, (1,) The mere thought or series of thoughts, (2,) The accompanying emo- tion of interest, which prevents that continual change ia the thought, which would otherwise happen. §. 224. Of different degrees of attention. In agreement with this view of the subject, we often speak of attention as great or small, as existing in a very high or a very slight degree. When the view of the mind is only momentary, and is unaccompanied, as it generally is at such times, with any force of emotion ; then the at- tention is said to be slight. When it bends itself upon a thought or series of thoughts with earnestness, and for a considerable length of time, and refuses to attend to any thing else ; then the attention is said to be intense. We commonly judge at first of the degree of attention to a subject from the length of time, during which the mind is occupied with it. But when we look a little further, it will be found, that the time will generally depend upon the strength and permanency of the attendant emotion of in- terest. And hence both the time and the degree of feel- ing are to be regarded. Of instances of people, who are able to give but slight attention to any subject of thought, who cannot bring their minds to it with steadiness and power, we every where find multitudes ; and there are some instances, where this ability has been possessed in such a high degree as to be worthy of notice. There have been mathematicians, who could investigate the most complicated problems amid every variety and character of disturbance. It was said of Julius Caesar, that, while writing a despatch, he could at the same time dictate four others to his secretaries, and if he did not write himself could dictate seven letters at once. The chess-player Philidor could direct three games of chess at the same time, of one of which only he requir- ed ocular inspection, the moves of the other two being announced to him by an assistant. The moves of the chess-men formed the subject, about which his thoughts were employed, and such was the intensity of interest, that OF ATTENTION. Mr I the mind found no difficulty in dwelling upon it to the ex- clusion of other subjects, and for a considerable length of time. §. 925. Dependence of memory on attention. There seenns to be no fact in mental philosophy more clearly established than this, that memory depends on at- tention ; that is, where attention is very slight, remem- brance is weak, and where attention is intense, remem- brance continues longer. The following statement of Jlr. Ilobbes, in his political treatise of the Leviathan, will tend to illustrate this fact. He says, he was once in company, where the conversation turned on the English civil war. A person abruptly asked, in the course of the conversation, What was the value of a Roman denarius ? Such a question, so remote from the general direction of the conversation, had the appearance not only of great abruptness, but of impertinence. 3Ir. Hobbes says, that, on a little reflection, he was able to trace the train of thought, which suggested the question. The original subject of discourse naturally introduced the history of king Charles ; the king naturally suggested the treachery of those, who surrendered him up to his enemies ; the treachery of these persons readily introduced to the mind the treachery of Judas Iscariot ; the conduct of Judas was associated with the thirty pieces of silver, and as the Ro- mans occupied Judea at the time of the crucifixion of the Saviour, the pieces of silver were associated with the Ro- man denarii. All these trains of thought passed through the mind of the person, who asked the question, in a twinkling; and with good reason Mr. Stewart, in remark- ing on this anecdote, thinks it not improbable, that he would himself have been unable readily to state the train of ideas, which led to the unexpected inquiry. Every one is able to detect analogous facts in his own mental experiences. We unexpectedly find ourselves reflecting on a subject, to which we must have been conducted by a long concatenation of thought. But the preceding se- ries, which conducted to the present subject of our medi- 2*2 OP ATTENTION. tations, occupied our attention for so short a time, that no foundation was laid for the memory, and it has ir- retrievably vanished. §. 226. Further illustrations of the dependence of memory on at- tention. There are other facts perhaps of a still more obvious and satisfactory nature, which confirm the principle under consideration. (1) Let a person be much engaged in conversation or occupied with any very interesting specu- lation, and the clock will strike in the room where he is, apparently without his having any knowledge of it. He hears the clock strike as much as at any other time, but, not attending to the perception of sound and having his thoughts directed another way, he immediately forgets. — (2) In the course of a single day persons, who are in the habit of winking, will close their eyelids perhaps thousands of times, and as often as they close them, will place them- selves in utter darkness. Undoubtedly they are conscious at the time both of closing their eyelids and of being in the dark, but as their attention is chiefly taken up with other things, they have entirely forgotten it.— (3) When- ever we read a book, we do not observe the words merely as a whole, but every letter of which they are made up, and even the minute parts of these letters. But it is merely a glance ; it does not for any length of time oc- cupy our attention ; we immediately forget, and with great difficulty persuade ourselves, that we have truly perceived the letters of the word. The fact, that every letter is in ordinary cases observed by us, may be proved by leaving out a letter of the word, or by substituting oth- ers of a similar form. We readily in reading detect such omissions or substitutions. — (4) An expert accountant can sum up, almost with a single glance of the eye, a long column of figures. The operation is performed almost instantaneously, and yet he ascertains the sum of the whole with unerring certainty. It is impossible, that he should learn the sum without noticing every figure in the whole column, and without allowing each its proper worth ; OF ATTENTION 273 but the attention to them was so very slight, that he is unable to remember this distinct notice. Many facts of this kind evidently show, as we think, that memory depends upon attention or rather upon a continuance of attention and varies with that continuance. ■§. 227. Relation of this principle to the views of Reid and Hartley in respect to muscular habits. In connection with what has been said on the princi- ple, that the power of remembrance will vary with the degree of attention, we are naturally led to remark on the views of Reid and Hartley on the subject of certain hab- its. It seems to be the opinion of these writers, that bod- ily or muscular habits operate in many cases without will or intention on the part of the person, who has formed them ; and that as they are without any attendant thought, without any preceding mental operation, such bodily acts are to be considered as purely mechanical or automatic. They endeavour to explain and confirm their views by the instance of a person, learning to play on the harpsi- chord. When a person first begins to learn, it is admit- ted by all, that there is an express act of volition, prece- ding every motion of the fingers. By degrees the mo- tions appear to cling to each other mechanically; we are no longer conscious of volitions, preceding and governing them. In other words, there is nothing left but the mo- tions ; there is no act of the mind ; the performance, ad- mirable as it is, has the same merit with that of a machine. §. 228. Objections to the views of Reid and Hartley. In replying to these views, it may be safely admitted, that, in playing the harpsichord and some other musical instruments, we have not always a distinct remembrance of volitions, and consequently the muscular effort has sometimes the appearance of being independent of the will. But this mere appearance is not sufficient to com- mand our assent to the doctrine advanced by these wri- ters, until the four following objections be set aside. (1) The supposition, that the acts in question are auto- matic, is unnecessary. In the preceding chapter it was 274 OF ATTENTION. shown, there may be habits of volition. This implies, that they may be very rapid, and arrest our attention but for a moment. And we have shown the consequence of this slight attention to be, that they may .exist without be- ing remembered. These facts we regard as sufficient to explain the mere appearance, which is admitted to exist, but which Reid and Hartley attempt to explain by an ut- ter denial of the putting forth of volitions at all. (2) The most rapid performers are able, when they please, to play so slowly,that they can distinctly observe ev- ery act of the will in the various movements of the fingers. And when they have checked their motions so as to be able to observe the separate acts of volition, they can af- terwards so accelerate those motions, and of course so di- minish the power, (or what may be regarded as the same thing, the time of attention,) that they cannot recal the accompanying volitions. This is the rational and obvious supposition, that there is not an exclusion of volitions, but an inability to recollect them, on account of the slight degree of attention. Any other view necessarily implies an inexplicable jumble of voluntary and involuntary ac- tions in the same performance. (3) If there be no volitions, the action must be strictly and truly automatic; that is, it must, from the nature of the case, be the motion of a machine. It. must always go on invariably in the same track, without turning to the right hand or to the left. Possibly this may be the case in playing the harpsichord, but it is by no means probable. And it certainly cannot be supposed to be the case in the performances of the equilibrist and of the actors of the circus, which were considered in the last chapter. What- ever may be the fact as to the player on the harpsichord, it is unquestionable, that the movements of the equilibrist, of the rope-dancer, and of the performer on horseback, do not succeed each other in a fixed and invariable order. No doubt the ordinary steps of the singular feats, which they perform, are familiar to them ; but the process is not an invariable one. It may be pronounced impossible for them to perform experiments, which agree, in every par- OF ATTENTION. &5S ticular, with preceding experiments. They are necessari- ly governed in their volitions and movements by a variety of circumstances, which arise on every particular occasion, and which could not be foreseen. Hence the muscular movements in these cases, being controlled by the will, are not mechanical ; and as we have abundant reason to believe them often not less rapid in the performance than the muscular movements in playing the harpsichord, why should we consider these last mechanical and not voluntary ? (4) If the hypothesis of Reid and Hartley be true, then there is some general tendency or principle in our nature, by which actions originally voluntary are convert- ed into mechanical actions. Nor will it be easy to show, why this principle should not extend further than mere bodily movements. It will be the result of this ten- dency to wrest all those powers which it reaches, whether bodily or mental, from the control of the will. In other words, when we consider the extent of its application, and its wonderful results, wherever it applies, we must con- clude, that this principle will infallibly make men ma- chines, mere automatons, before they have lived out half their davs. In view of these objections, the doctrine of Reid and Hartley is inadmissible. §. 229. Of attention in legerdemain and ventriloquism. It has with no little reason been thought, that the dex- terity of jugglers, in practising tricks of legerdemain or sleights of hand, illustrates and confirms in some measure the views, which have been given. These persons acquire the power of performing certain feats with astonishing ra- pidity by habit. The rapidity, with which they perform their feats, is undoubtedly the great secret of the imposi- tions, which they are able to practice on the understandings of those, who observe them. The time, which they take up in going through their tricks of legerdemain, is so very short, that the spectator is unable to exert that degree of attention, which is necessary to lay the foundation of memory ; so that the performance is the same to him, in consequence of his inability to remember any thing, as if he had never seen it. 276 UF ATTENTION It may not be out of place briefly to remark here in ex- planation of ventriloquism, an art, by which persons can so modify their voice, as to make it appear to their audi- ence to proceed from different distances and directions. The great requisite on the part of the ventriloquist is to be able to mimic sounds ; and he will be likely to suc- ceed nearly in proportion to his skill in this particular. The secret then of his acoustic deceptions will be suffi- ciently understood by referring to the statement in §. 40, viz. That, previous to experience, we are unable to refer sounds to any particular external cause. — The sound itself never gives us any direct and immediate indication of the place, or distance, or direction of the sonorous body. It is only by experience, it is only by the association of place with sound, that the latter becomes an indication of the former. Now supposing the ventriloquist to possess a delicate ear, which is implied in his ability to mimic sounds, he soon learns by careful observation the differ- ence, which change of place causes in the same sound. Having in this way ascertained the sounds, which, in con- sequence of the associations men have formed, are appro- priate to any particular distances, direction, or object, it is evident, whenever he exactly or very nearly imitates such sounds, that they must appear to his audience to come from such distance, object, or direction. One part of the art, however, consists in controlling the attention of persons present,&in directing that attention to some particular place by a remark, motion, or some other method. If, for instance, the sound is to come from under a tumbler or hat, the per- former finds it important to have their attention directed to that particular object, which gives a fine opportunity for the exercise of all those associations, which they have formed with any sound coining from a very confined place. All, then, that remains for him to do, is, to give his voice a dull modulation and on a low key, which we know from our experience to be the character of confined sounds. Then there seems to be a voice speaking under a tumbler or hat : and if any person should, either intentionally or uninten- tionally, lift these articles up, the ventriloquist immediately OF ATTENTION. 377 utters himself on a higher key, like a person, who had been very much confined, on being readmitted into the free and open air. In all these cases, both of legerdemain and of ventriloquism, a great deal depends on the skill of the performer, in directing the attention of those, who witness the exhibition, to some particular object, or in diverting their attention from it ; but in sleights of hand there is *he still more difficult art of performing feats so rapidly as absolutely to prevent the degree of attention requisite for memory. §. 230. Whether the mind can attend to more than one object at the same time ? In connection with what has already been said, we are in some degree prepared to consider the question, Wheth- er the mind can attend to more than one thing at one and the same instant ? The question can perhaps be stated more clearly thus ; Whether the mind can attend at one and the same instant to objects, which we can attend to separately ? — The question, when proposed as here, with- out any limitation, hardly admits a discussion. If a rose is presented to us, we can handle it ; we can inhale its fragrance, and behold its colours at the same moment. The mind exists in the states of seeing, smelling, and feeU ing at once ; that is to say, it is in a complex state. Whereas if the question, as above stated, were answered in the negative, complexity in the states of the mind would be an impossibility. But the question may be further simplified, and pro- posed thus ; viz. Whether we can, by meam of one and the same sense, simultaneously notice and attend to more than one object, which objects that sense is capable of attend- ing to separately ? — When the question is modified and stated in this way, it seems to be the general sentiment, that the mind notices only one thing at a time. §. 331. On attending at the same time to different parts in music. But there are certain facts, which at first sight contra- dict this doctrine, however generally it may have been en- tertained. For instance, it is the opinion with very many 35 278 OF ATTENTION. persons, that, in a concert of music, a good ear can attend to different parts at the same time, and feel the full effect of the harmony. It is not denied, that they are able fully to feel the effect of the harmony ; and it is also admit- ted, that they appear to attend to the different parts, which combine to form that harmony, at one and the same instant. Eut this appearance, (for we conceive it to be merely such,) is to be thus explained. It appeared in the chapter on Intellectual Habits, that our external perceptions, like our other mental acts and laws, were susceptible of being quickened. By various examples it was seen, that they could be brought to an astonishing degree of rapidity of" exercise, We suppose, therefore, that a ha.bit has been formed in the case under consideration, and that the mind parses from one part of the music to the other with such quickness as to give us no perception of an interval of time. But we have just seen, that where the attention is so exceedingly slight, there is no remembrance, and we are unable to recal the mental acts. Hence we shall seem to be attending to all the parts at once. The apparent result will be the same, as if this were actually the fact. But as this mere appearance may be otherwise satisfactori- ly explained, it is not necessary to admit the doctrine of coexistent perceptions of distinct and separate sounds. Nor is this all. It is to be remembered, that, in the case under consideration, one sense only, the sense of hear- ing, is employed. And it is a natural inquiry, if it can at- tend to more than one object at once, which it is capable of attending to separately, why may it not attend to three, five, twenty, or more ? An objection certainly arises here ; and furthermore, the opinion, that the mind can simultan- eously attend to separate objects by means of a single sense, stikes at the root of what there is abundant reason to consider a great and fixed law of our nature ; viz. That the first intimations from the separate senses are simple, are uncompounded. §. 232. Of attention in the visual perception, of external objects. In discussing the subject of attention, Mr. Stewart, in OF ATTENTION. -2?j connection with his views on that subject, introduces some remarks in respect to vision. He makes this supposi- tion, That the eye is fixed in a particular position, and the picture of an object is painted on the retina. He then starts this inquiry, — Does the mind perceive the complete figure of the object at once, or is this perception the result of the various perceptions we have of the different points in the outline]? He holds the opinion, that the percep- tion is the result of our perceptions of the different points in the outline, which he adopts as naturally consequent on such views, as the following. The outline of every body is made up of points or smallest visible portions ; no two of these points can be in precisely the same direction ; therefore, every point by itself constitutes just as distinct an object of attention to the mind, as if it were separated by some interval of empty space from all the other points. The conclusion, therefore, is, as every body is made up of parts, and as the perception of the figure of the whole object implies a knowledge of the relative situation of the different parts with respect to each other, that such percep- tion is the result of a number of different acts of attention. But if we adopt this ingenious explanation of Mr. Stewart, it is incumbent upon us to show, how it happens, that we appear to see the object at once ? The answer is, that the acts of attention are performed with such ra- pidity, that the effect with respect to us is the same, as if the perception were instantaneous. A habit has been formed ; the glance of the mind, in the highest exercise of that habit, is like lightning ; there is no remembrance. §. 233. Notice of some facts which favour the above doctrine. There are various facts, which go to confirm Mr. Stewart's doctrine as to the mode of the perception of external objects. When we look for the first time on any object, which is diversified with gaudy colours, the mind is evidently perplexed with the variety of percep- tions which arise ; the view is indistinct, which would not be the case, if there were only one, and that an immedi- ate perception. And even in paintings, which are of amore 256 OF ATTENTION. laudable execution, the effects at the first perception will be similar. But there is another fact, which comes still more directly to the present point. We find, that we do not have as distinct an idea, at. the first glance, of a fig- ure of an hundred sides, as we do of a triangle or square. But we evidently should, if the perception of visible figure were the immediate consequence of the picture on the retina, and not the combined result of the separate per- ceptions of the points in the outline. Whenever the fig- ure is very simple, the process of the mind is so very rap- id, that the perception seems to be instantaneous. But when the sides are multiplied beyond a certain number, the interval of time necessary for these different acts of attention becomes perceptible. We are then distinct- ly conscious, that the mind labours from one part of the object to another, and that some time elapse* before we grasp it as a whole. §. 234. Rapid transference of attention one cause of difficulty in criticism. Experience teaches us, that certain objects are fitted to give pleasure, while others are either indifferent, or impart disgust. We know the fact, but it is impossible for us to give any explanation of it, further than to say, that such is our constitution, or that we are thus formed. (See §. 21.) But then previously to the emotion of pleasure or displeas- ure, of satisfaction or of disgust, the mind is very active, and has not only a multitude of perceptions, but forms va- rious comparisons. We will suppose, that the emotion excited is that of pleasure, and that the object which is the cause of it exhibits different qualities ; some of them are pleasing, some are indifferent, and others are suited to cause disgust. All these different qualities are in a state of combination, and they mutually affect each other. Here the mind rapidly makes a discrimination : it fixes upon the particular parts of the object, which is supposed to possess many different qualities, and separates the ele- ments of beauty ; it assigns their due influence to those qualities, which are either indifferent or are displeasing ; it takes a comparative view of the whole ; and the result OF ATTENTION 281 of these various perceptions and comparisons is that new state of the mind, which we call a pleasing emotion. But we no sooner have the pleasing emotion, than we feel a sort of disinclination to retrace the previous steps. And when it is otherwise and we have an inclination to, the mental process has been so rapid, that we often meet with serious difficulty in detecting the separate steps of it in the order of their succession. So that we have here one cause of difficulty in criticism, for it comes within the province of the philosophy of criticism, to detect and point out those operations of the mind, which precede emotions either of pleasure or disgust. And in doing this, critics meet with the obstacle, which has been mentioned. We see here a cause also, why they are so often at variance with each other as to the precise ground of emotions of pleasure and the opposite ; and also why others, who do not presume to take upon themselves the rank of critics, do not always assent to their expositions, and sometimes differ from them. One of the gieat requisites in a crit- ic is the ability to reflect steadily and carefully on the operations of the mind, in order that he may check them in the rapidity of their progress and detain them sufficient- ly long to be able to analyze them. §. 235. Of exercising attention in reading. If attention, as we have seen, be the foundation of memory, then we are furnished with a practical rule of considerable importance. The rule is, Xot to give a hasty and careless reading of authors, but to read them with a degree of deliberation and thought. It is the fault of some persons, that they are too quickly weary, that they skip from one author to another, and from one sort of knowledge to another. It is true, there are many things to be known ; we would not have a person limit himself entirely to one science, but it is highly important, that he should guard against that rapid and careless transition from subject to subject, which has been mentioned. And why is it important? The intimation at the head of this section, that there cannot be memory without attention. 282 OF ATTENTION. or rather that the degree of memory will vary with the de- gree of attention, suggests the answer. By yielding to the desire of becoming acquainted with a greater variety of departments of knowledge, than the understanding is able to master, and, as a necessary consequence, by be- stowing upon each of them only a very slight attention, we remain essentially ignorant of the whole. The person, who pursues such a course, finds himself unable to recal 1 what he has been over; he has a great many half-formed notions floating in his mind, but these are so ill shaped and so little under his control as to be but little better than actual ignorance. This is one evil result from reading authors and of going over sciences in the careless way, which has been specified, that the knowledge thus acquired, if it can be called knowledge, is of very little practical benefit, in consequence of being so poorly digested and so little under control. — But there is another and perhaps more serious evil ; — this practice greatly disqualifies one for all intellectual pursuits ; the mind, having been so long left at liberty to wander from object to object without being called to account and subjected to the rules of salutary discipline, entirely loses at last the ability to dwell upon the subjects of its thoughts and to examine them. And when this power is once lost, there is but little ground to expect any solid attainments. References. — Locke's Essay, Bk. I. ch. x. ; Reid's Essays on the Intellectual Powers, I, ch. vi. ; Essays on the Active Powers, III, chs. ii, hi.; Stewart's Elements, Vol. I, ch. ii.; Helvetius, De 1' Esprit, (chap, de V inegah capacite cV attention;) Condillac's Origin of Knowledge, Pt. I, Sect. ii. ch. i. : Good's Book of Nature, Series II, Lect. viii. ; Watts' Improvement of the Mind, Pt. I. chs. iv, xv.; Brown's Lectures, xxxi, xliii. ; &c. CHAPTER TWENTY FIRST, MEMORY. §. 23G. Explanation of the faculty of memory. JVIcmory is that power or susceptibility of the mind, from which arise those conceptions, which are modified bv the relation of past time. It is not a simple, but com- plex state of the intellectual principle, implying, (1) a conception of the object, (2) the relation of priority in its existence. That is, we not only have a conception of the object, but this conception is attended with the conviction, that it underwent the examination of our senses, or was perceived by us at some former period. When we imagine, that we stand in the midst of a for- est, or on the top of a mountain, but are snug all the while in our own chimney corner, these pleasing ideas of woods, and of skies painted over us, and of plains under our feet, are mere conceptions. But when with these insulated con- ceptions, we connect the relation of time ; and they gleam upon our souls, as the woods, plains, and mountains of our youthful days; then those intellectual states, which were before mere conceptions, become remembrances. And the susceptibility, which the mind possesses of these latter complex states, is what usually g%s under the name of the power or faculty of memory. §. 237. Of differences in the strength of memory. The susceptibility of remembrances is the common pri- vilege of all. and, generally sneaking, it is possessed in 384 MEMORY, nearly equal degrees. To each one there is given a suffi- cient readiness in this respect ; his ability to remember is such, as to answer all the ordinary purposes of life. But, although there is in general a nearly equal distribution of this power, we find a few instances of great weakness, and other instances of great strength of memory. It is related of the Roman orator, Hortensius, by Sene- ca, that, after sitting a whole day at a public sale, he gave an aceount from memory, in the evening, of all things sold, with the prices and the names of the purchasers, and that this account when compared with what had been taken in writing by a notary, was found to be exact in every par- ticular. The following is an instance of strength of memory somewhat remarkable.— An Englishman, at a certain time, came to Frederic the Great of Prussia, for the express pur- pose of giving him an exhibition of his power of recollec- tion. Frederic sent for Voltaire, who read to his majesty a pretty long poem, which he had just finished. The En- glishman was present, and was in such a position, that he could hear every word of the poem ; but was concealed from Voltaire's notice. After the reading of the poem was finished, Frederic observed to the author, that the production could not be an original one ; as there was a foreign gentleman present, who could recite every word of it. Voltaire listened with amazement to the stranger, as he repeated, word for word, the poem, which he had been at so much pains in composing ; and giving way to a mo- mentary freak of passion, he tore the manuscript in pieces. A statement, being made to him of the circumstances, miti- gated his anger, and he was very willing to do penance for the suddenness of his passion by copying down the work from a second repetition of it by the stranger, who was able to go through w£h it, as before. A great number of instances of this description are found in the records of various individuals, but they must be considered as exceptions to the general features of the human mind, the existence of which cannot be explained on any known principles. As no one can tell, why one MEMORY. 285 oak on the mountains is tall and large, while its neighbour, on the same soil and of the same description of trees, re- mains stinted and dwarfish ; so we find ourselves unable to give any philosophic explanation of such instances as have been mentioned. But there are also weak memories, so much so, as to be properly considered exceptions to the generally equal dis- tribution of this mental susceptibility. Individuals can be found, from whose memory truths have passed away almost the moment after they have been acquired; and who, in the management of the common concerns of life, discover a forgetfulness extremely unfortunate and perplexing. In- stances of this kind are indeed not so frequently found recorded as of an opposite description ; because it is more pleasing and satisfactory to the literary annalist to record the excellencies, than the defects of the mind.* £. 238. Instances of powerful memory in operating with numbers. Although it is evidently unnecessary to give a detailed *. The following recent statement, and from a most unquestioned source, (Mr. Rhenius, missionary in Southern India, year 1827,) dis- closes a tenacity of memory not unlike the very striking instances above mentioned, and which have been already so often quoted in other works. "I have lately witnessed, (says he,) a remarkable in- stance of a wonderfully retentive memory in a young Brahmin from Ramnad. Three days ago, a gentleman wrote a sentence in Eng- lish, (of which language the Brahmin knew nothing,) containing 30 syllables: each syllable was numbered in order; all the syllables with their numbers were told him ; not in their proper order, but skipping from three to twenty, then to six, and so on : when the whole sentence was finished, the Brahmin, arranging the numbers in his head in regular order, told th* sentence word for word. To-day we wrote him an English sentence of sixty-nine syllables ; and pro*' •eeded in telling him the numbers as before : while this was going on, I wrote a sentence in Hebrew, containing fourteen syllables, tel- ling him the numbers in the same skipping manner : while this was proceeding, he repeated to us the sentence which lie had heard three days ago: and when the numbers of the new English and Hebrew sentences were finished, he told ua both of them in a regular order, as if he had read them from a book. This was certainly a prodigious memory, and astonished us all." 36 280 MEMORY, account of striking instances of memory, it will be suffi- ciently to our purpose, briefly to allude to certain extra- ordinary developements of its power in numerical opera- tions. An instance, illustrative of the class of facts we have now in view, may be found in the mental history of a well-known individual of the name of Buxton, a native of Derbyshire in England. This singular man learnt the multiplication table in his youth ; but further than this, he had no education ; not being able even to write his name. He invented an unwieldy sort of notation, reckoning, af- ter he had gotten beyond millions, by tribes, and by cramps; — a method, which probably no one else has ever thought it worth while to employ. Among his common operations in figures was that of multiplying five or six figures by as many, or dividing as large sums, without pen, chalk, or slate, in as short time as the most expert arith- meticians could do it with them. It is mentioned of him, as a well attested fact, that on a certain occasion he mul- tiplied thirty nine figures by thirty nine figures. This took him some time ; but when we remember that the operation was performed without slate, or paper, or any other aids of the kind, it is well worthy of admiration. Although we readily confess our inability to give a full explanation of these extraordinary facts, there are three things which will probably be found true in respect to all the instances, which have been hitherto recorded. (1) There is great power of attention. Numbers have peculiar charms for these persons. They feel an in- tense interest in combining them ; and a deep feeling of in- terest is an essential requisite, and is implied in attention. (2) There is a corresponding power of memory. This is obviously involved in the very remarkable numerical re- sults, which they arc capable of arriving at. It is also what would natural!y€follow, (as we have already seen,) from their superiour powers of attention. (3) A habit has been formed. This is the secret of the rapidity of their operations, which does not depend upon attention, memo- ry, or any unparralleled insight into the properties of numbers, but upon mere practice. The case is the same MEMORY. 2S7 here as that of the expert accountant already remarked upon, who sums up in a minute a column of figures, which would occupy another person an half an hour.* §. 239. Of exploded opinions in regard to memory. Tt is fortunate, that, at the present day, there is such a wenerul disposition to apply the inductive method of reas- oning, in attempting to ascertain the general facts or the laws of our mental operations. In general, no one stops to inquire, how the mind operates, although that may be a proper inquiry when pursued on the inductive method, but ic'ua are its operations ; and free from the impatience of those, who are continually offering hypotheses, we are * The following recent instances resemble the case of Buxton. — (1) About the year 1611, a lad of very limited education, (Z. C,) a native of the state of Vermont attracted the public notice. It was found, that he could determine with the greatest ease ?\nd despatch the exact number of minutes or seconds in any given period of time. He was able to tell the exact product, arising from the multiplication of any number, which consisted of two, three, or four figures, by any other number, made up of the like number of figures. When any number, consisting of six or seven places of figures, was proposed to him, he was found able to state, almost as soon as it was mention- ed, all the factors, of which it is composed. He could extract the square and cube roots of numbers, as in other cases, without the as- sistance of ink or pencil. He was asked the square root of 106,929, and before the number could be written down, he immediately an- swered 327. Being required to give the cube root of 268,336,125, he replied with equal promptness 645. (2) A young lad in the State of Georgia, (at this time, 1823, twelve years of age,) can reduce any given number of miles to inch- es, years to seconds, &c, performing the whole operations in his head, and will give the result as quick as an expert calculator can with a pen. Among the questions asked him, were the following, which he solved with ease and expedition ; How many inches are there in 1,373,489 miles ? How often will a wheel, 5 feet and 6 incit- es in diameter, turn over in 90 mile3 ? What is the cube root of 24,743,662 ? He has on more than one occasion, and even before he was nine years of age, raised the number twelve to its fifteenth pow- er — that is to say — multiplied that number into itself fifteen times. He can multiply three figures by three figures. This faculty was discovered in the lad at about eight years of age, and has greatly improved since. ^8 MEMORY. required to observe and to classify. It has not always been thus. Men have too often speculated, rather than examined ; and have taken up with the mere suggestions of their fancies. We have formerly been furnished with hypotheses in regard to the memory, as well as other acts of the mind ; not to say any thing of the hypotheses in respect to the' general nature of the mind itself. The following are the ideas of Malebranche, as they are found in his Search after Truth. He supposes, that the soul has its residence in the brain, and in a particular part of it. In every percep- tion, which we have, and in all acts of the mind whatever, there are certain changes in the fibres of the part of the brain, where the soul resides. This being admitted, he assures us, that the nature of memory is explained. It is to be remembered, that the fibres of the brain are bent at every new perception. Now what do we find to be the fact, when the branches of a tree have been bent in a par- ticular direction, and especially, when they have continu- ed so for some time ? Evidently, that they acquire an aptitude to be bent anew after the same manii3r. In the same way, the fibres of the brain, having received certain impressions by the course of the animal spirits, acquire a facility, or perhaps we may say, a habit of receiving cer- tain arrangements. It is in this facility, that memory is .said by Malebranche to consist, since we always think of the same things, when the brain is brought into a like state, and its fibres are similarly affected as at former times. In some respects resembling this, is the hypothesis, which is more recently to be found in Watt's Improvement of the Mind. This writer considers our ideas of external objects to be pictures or images, thrown off from those objects, and at last reaching and inhering in the cerebral substance. A greater or less degree of permanency or con- tinuance in these pictures, which are inscribed upon the brain, much the same as the impression of the seal is left upon wax, is implied in memory. When the print is deep, and the cerebral substance is from age or other circum- stances unyielding, there is a greater permanency in the MEMORY. 2S0 picture. But when it is otherwise, the picture, (that is, the remembrance.) rapidly vanishes. Nothing, which is worthy to be called proof, has been offered in favour of either of these hypotheses; and they are mentioned, not because it is necessary to confute them, but because it may be found profitable to know, what erroneous opinions have sometimes found their way into the belief of well- meaning and learned men. §. 240. Of the effects of disease on the memory. But however disposed we may be to reject such fan- ciful hypotheses as those above alluded to, it seems to be well established, that there is a connection of some kind between the mind and body. We rightly and fairly infer, that there is such a connection, because there are a multi- tude of facts, which can be explained on no other supposi- tion ; but in what way, or to what extent it exists, it would be worse than futile to assert, with the limited knowledge, which we at present possess. The general truth, how- ever, that there is a connection of some sort between the mind and body, and, consequently, a reciprocal influence, is confirmed, besides other sources of evidence, by some facts in respect to the memory. — I have read, (says Dr. Beattie,) of a person, who, falling from the top of a house, forgot all his acquaintances, and even the faces of his own family; and of a learned author, who, on receiving a blow on the head by a folio dropping from its shelf, lost all his learning, and was obliged to study the alphabet the second time. He further remarks, that he was him- self acquainted with a clergyman, who was attacked with a fit of apoplexy. After his recovery, he was found to have forgotten all the transactions of the four years im- mediately preceding, but remembered as well as ever what had happened before that period. The newspapers, which were printed during the period mentioned, were read with interest, and afforded him a great deal of amuse- ment, being perfectly new. Thucydides, in his account of the plague of Athens, makes mention of some persons, who survived that disease : but their bodily sufferings had %8 MEMORY. affected their mental constitution, so that they had no re- collection of their own former history, had forgotten their friends, and every thing else. From many instances of this kind, and from others, which go to prove, that the state of the mind, on the other hand, often has a very perceptible effect on the bodily functions, it may justly be inferred, that there is a connec- tion existing between the mind and body, and that a re- ciprocal influence is exercised. But what that precise connection is : whether it be limited, on the part of the body, to the brain ; on what it depends ; in what ways it is modified ; are inquiries, which cannot be satisfactori- ly answered at present, whatever hypothesis may be pro- posed. Why a fever, or an attack of apoplexy, or a re- moval of a part of the brain, or an inordinate pressure of it, which are effects on the body, should affect the mind, a spiritual substance, which is supposed to be essentially different from matter, no one is able to say. — The fact, however, that such a reciprocal connection exists, sug- gests a reason for a due degree of attention to the phys- ical system. The importance of a healthy and vigorous constitution of the body, as being very nearly connected with a corresponding health and vigour of the intellectual principle, should ever be remembered by those in the pur- suit of knowledge. §. 241. Suggestions on the ultimate restoration of thought. It is said to have been an opinion of Lord Bacon, that no thoughts are lost, that they continue virtually to exist, and that the soul possesses within itself laws, which, when- ever fully brought into action, will be found capable of producing the prompt and perfect restoration of the col- lected experiences of its whole past existence. This opin- ion seems to be adopted in an article on the laws of asso- ciation in the work of S. T. Coleridge, entitled Biogra- phia Litfraria. Various facts may undoubtedly be brought forward, going to show, that this doctrine, which involves important moral consequences, may have some foundation. The subject is suggested here, in con- ilEMOHY. 8M sequence of the remarks in the last section, on the re- ciprocal influence of mind and body ; it appearing beyond doubt, that in certain conditions of the body, especially when the brain is much affected, some of the laws of the mind undergo a vast increase both in strength and rapid- ity of operation. But as intellectual philosophy can nev- er become the true ''metaphtsics," the true "first phi- losophy," without a continual recurrence to facts and careful inductions from them, we take this opportunity to insert the substance of a statement to be found in the Bi- ographia of the last mentioned writer. It is a statement of some facts, which became known to him, in a tour to Germany in 1798. In a Catholic town of Germany, a young woman of four or five and twenty, who could neither read nor write, was seized with a nervous fever, during which she was in- cessantly talking Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, with much pomp and distinctness of enunciation. The case attracted much attention, and many sentences, which she uttered, being taken down by some learned persons present, were found to be coherent and intelligible, each for itself, but with little or no connection with each other. Of the He- brew only a small portion could be traced to the Bible ; the remainder was that form of Hebrew, which is usually called Rabbinic. Ignorant, and simple, and harmless, as this young woman was known to be, no one suspected any deception; and no explanation could for a long time be given, although inquiries were made for that purpose, in different families, where she had resided, as n servant. Through the zeal, however, and philosophical spirit of a young physician, all the necessary information was in the end obtained. The woman was of poor parents, and at nine years of age had been kindly taken to be brought up by an old Protestant minister, who lived at some dis- tance. He was a very learned man ; being not only a great Hebraist, but acquainted also with Rabbinical wri- tings, the Greek and Latin Fathers, &c. The passages, which had been taken down in the delirious ravings of the young woman, were found by the physician precisely to 2»2 MEMORY. agree with passages in some books in those languages* which had formerly belonged to him. But these facts were not a full explanation of the case. It appeared on further inquiry, that the patriarchal protestant had been in the habit for many years of walking up and down a pas- sage of his house, into which the kitchen door opened, and to read to himself, with a loud voice, out of his fa- vourite books. This attracted the notice of the poor and ignorant domestic, whom he had taken into his family ; the passages made an impression on her memory ; and although probably for a long time beyond the reach of her recollection when in health, they were at last vividly res- tored, and were uttered in the way above-mentioned, in consequence of the feverish state of the physical system j particularly of the brain. From this instance, and from several others of the same kind, which Mr. Coleridge asserts can be brought up, he is inclined to educe the following positions or inferen- ces. (1) Our thoughts may, for an indefinite time, ex- ist, in the same order, in which they existed originally, and in a latent or imperceptible state. (2) As a fever- ish state of the brain, (and of course any other peculiar- ity in the bodily condition,) cannot create thought itself, nor make any approximation to it, but can only operate as an excitement or quickener to the intellectual princi- ple ; it is, therefore, probable, that all thoughts are, in themselves, imperishable. In order greatly to increase the power of the intellect, he supposes it would require only a different organization of its material accompani- ment. (4) And, therefore, he concludes, the book of final judgment, which, the Scriptures inform us, will at the last day be presented before the individuals of the hu- man race, may be no other, than the investment of the soul with a celestial instead of a terrestrial body ; and that this may be sufficient to restore the perfect record of the multitude of its past experiences. He supposes, it may be altogether consistent with the nature of a living spirit, that heaven and earth should sooner pass away, than that a single act, or thought, should be loosened and effectual- MEMORY. *J3 ly struck off from the great chain of its operations. In giving these conclusions, the exact language of the writer has not been followed, but the statement made will be found to give what clearly seems to have been his meaning. §. 242. Further considerations relating to the same subject. The above-mentioned conclusions, which undoubtedly afford materials for reflection, and like other inquiries in- to the mind, are to be received or rejected in view of facts, appear to be sustained by the views of some other writers. The following passage in a recent work is much to the present purpose. " Past feelings, even should they be those of our earliest moments of infancy, never cease to be under the influence of the law of association, and they are constantly liable to be renovated, even to the latest period of our life, although they may be in so faint a state as not to be the object of consciousness. It is evident then, that a cause of mental excitement may so act upon a sequence of extremely faint feelings, as to render ideas, of which the mind had long been pre- viously unconscious, vivid objects of consciousness. Thus, it is recorded of a female in France, that while she was subjected to such an influence, the memory of the Armor- ican language, which she had lost since t>he was a child,, suddenly returned."* There is another class of facts, which may in their re- sults at least be found to have a bearing on this inquiry ; those, illustrative of the mental exercises of persons in a drowning state. It appears from the statements of per- sons, who have been on the point of drowning, but have been rescued from that situation, that the operations of their minds were peculiarly quickened. In this wonder- ful activity of the mental principle, the whole past life, with its thousand minute incidents, has almost simultane- ously passed before them, and been viewed, as in a mir- ror. Scenes, and situations long gone by, and associates not seen for years and perhaps buried, came rushing In *S. Hibbert's Philosophy of Apparitions, Pt. IV. Ch. 5. 47 &A MEMORY. upon the field of intellectual vision, in all the activity and distinctness of real existence. Persons, who have been in this situation, have further stated, that the length of time appeared to be increased in proportion to the mental exer- cises ; which agrees with the views on the measurement of time, expressed at §. 95 ; viz., That our opinion of its length will depend on the succession or number of ideas. Further ; the proximate cause of this surprising accel- eration of the acts of the intellect appears to be, (as will be found to be the fact in most other cases,) an affection of the brain. That is to say ; in consequence of the stoppage of respiration, the blood is prevented from readi- ly circulating through the lungs, and hence becomes ac cumulated in the brain. It would seem, that the blood is never thrown into the brain in unusual quantities, with- out being attended with unusual mental affections. §. 243. Memory of the uneducated. There is a peculiarity in the memories of uneducated people, of mechanics, farmers, day-labourers, and of all others, who, from the pressure of their particular callings, may have had but little means of mental culture. This peculiarity is seen in their great readiness in the recollec tion of places, times, arrangements in dress and in build- ings, local incidents, &c. In their narrations they will be found to specify the time of events ; not only the year, but the month, and day ; and in their description of per- sons and places are not less particular. This trait in the mental character of this class of people seems to have ar- rested the notice of Shakespeare. Mrs. Quickly, in reminding Sir John Falstaff of his promise of marriage, discovers her readiness of recollec- tion in the specification of the great variety of circumstan- ces, under which the promise was made. Thou didst swear to me on a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin cham- ber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, on Wednesday in Whitsun week, when the prince broke thy head, for likening him to a singing man of Windsor, &.c. The coachman in Cornelius Scriblerus gives an account of what he had seen memory. art in Bear-garden ; — Two men fought a prize ; one ivas a fair man. a serjeant in the guards; the other black, a butcher; the serjeant had red trousers, the butcher blue; they fought upon a stage about four o"clock, and tht serjeant wounded the butch- er in the leg. The explanation of this peculiarity of memory in com- mon people is this. It will be kept in mind, that our remembrances are merely conceptions, modified by rela- tions of past time. Removing then the modification of past time, and the remaining element of our remembran- ces will be conceptions. Our conceptions cannot be call- ed up by a mere voluntary effort, because to will the ex- istence of a conception necessarily implies the actual ex- istence of the conception already in the mind. Our con- ceptions, therefore, arise in the mind on the principles of association or simple suggestion. We come, then, di- rectly to the fact, which explains that peculiarity or char- acteristic of memory, of which we are speaking. The knowledge, which is possessed by persons of very small education, will be found to be connected together by the most obvious and easy principles of association ; for instance, contiguity in place and time. These people have been very much, we may say chiefly, in the practice of associating those things, which happened at the same time, or were proximate in position. It may be thought, that mere time and place are very unimportant relations, but however that may be, they most strongly seize the notice of persons of small education ; and by means of them, their overflowing multitude of remembrances is kept in place. Having by almost constant exercise Great- ly strengthened the tendency to those associations, which exist in consequence of mere contiguity, they can very readily tell you, not only the precise place, where any thing has happened, but almost every thing, which has happened in the immediate neighbourhood; not only the time, when the event occurred, but many other things, which occurred about the same period. (See in connec- tion with these remarks, §. 197.) 906 .MEMORY. §. 244. Memory of men of philosophic minds. From speaking of the power of remembrance in the uneducated, we naturally turn to persons of a reflecting, and philosophic mental character. It has often been re- marked of such, that they discover a want of readiness of recollection. The servant in the family of the philoso- pher will be likely to know much more about the fields, and fences, and cattle of the neighbours ; will be more minutely acquainted with their individual dress, and man- ners, and habits, than the philosopher himself. More than this, he has an aptness, an ability at remembering things of this nature, which his philosophic master evidently does not possess. Again, we suppose a battle to have been fought; persons of limited intellectual culture will tell you the precise day of the month, the exact number of troops, the names of the regiments, the amount of killed and wounded, and many trifling incidents of individuals, whether solemn or ludicrous, which are fitted 'subsequent- ly to enliven the narrations of the fireside. But the phi- losopher, who has read the same accounts, does not re- member these particulars, and finds it a very difficult thing to do it. But we perceive, that his mind has been profit- ably employed in reflections on the causes of the battle, on various striking developements of human character in its heat and bustle, and on its effects upon the happiness, or misery of families, and nations. Many have imagined, that the memory of the uneduca- ted, because it deals so much in minute particulars, is in- trinsically stronger, than of others. It is no doubt, to the multitude a more imposing species of memory, and admi- rably answers the purpose of those, in whom it appears. But mere contiguity in time and place, which is almost the sole principle that binds together events in the recollec- tion of such persons, is of but small consequence in the estimation of the philosopher. He looks more deeply into the nature of things; their mere outward and incidental circumstances do not particularly arrest his attention ; and consequently his knowledge is connected together by less MEMORY. 297 obvious and ready, but more important principles, such as analogy, contrast, cause and effect. §. 245. Of the memory of the aged. A defect of memory is often noticed in persons, who are advanced in years. Very few retain those powers of recollection, which they possessed in early days. " Age, says Ossian, is now on my tongue, and my soul has failed ; memory fails on my mind." The failure of this mental susceptibility in the aged seems to be owing to two causes, viz the impaired state of the organs of perception, and a defect of attention. (1) Their organs of external perception are impaired. We find it difficult, in consequence of the failure of their sense of hearing, to converse with people, advanced in years, and it requires a great effort, both on our part and theirs, to make them understand what we say. The most conclusive arguments, and flashes of wit, and rich strains of music have in a great measure ceased to excite in them any interest. There is a like failure of the sense of seeing also. They no longer take pleasure in the de- lightful aspects of creation ; and the waving forest, and the gay beams of the sun, although they have not ceased to have charms for others, have none for them. r All the other senses fail of their wonted operalion in ihe same way; and the natural and necessary consequence is, that the ideas which are let in by the senses, make but a very fee- ble impression, and are almost immediately erased from the mind. (2) The second cause of the zceakness of memory, of which old people complain, is a defect in attention. That mental exercise, to which we give the name of attention, always implies desire, an emotion of interest ; and without an emo- tion of this description, it cannot exist. But the world, (including in the term what is beautiful in nature, and what is important in the duties and callings of life,) has at last ceased to excite the emotions, which it formerly awak- ened. The aged are like the prisoner, released in the period of the French revolution, from the Bastille : they 298 MEMORY. find themselves, as it were, in a new creation, which pas- ses before them with great indistinctness, and with which they feel but little sympathy. And why should it be thought unnatural, that they should neglect in some meas- ure that scene of things, which has already learnt to forget and to neglect them ? As their organs of external percep- tion have failed them, and there has also been a defect of attention, the memory, as a natural consequence, has be- come powerless and broken. It should, however, be remarked here, that, notwith- standing what has been said, aged people often recal, with great readiness and precision, the feelings and the incidents of their youth. As when a man, who has been greatly prospered, but who at last meets with sudden and disas- trous reverses of fortune, finds, in this new state of things, his obsequious attendants fleeing away and turning against him, while only a few early friends remain unmoved in evil and good report ; so early feelings and early associa- tions appear to cling with a faithful fondness to the shat- tered intellects of the aged. The old soldier, who had a share in the American Revolution, will sit down by his fireside and describe with great particularity the scenes, where he toiled and bled, and yet be quite unable to give an account of the incidents of the preceding week. The explanation of this trait in the mental aspects of the aged seems to be this. As a general statement, our early feelings aud our early associations are the strongest. That they should be so is not strange, since we have then entered on a state of things which, in its essential fea- tures, is new, and which, in all its diversities of duty, and pleasure, and danger, attracts, and excites us by continual novelty. Who can forget the plains where he wandered in early life ? Who can erase from his recollection the associates of those days of wonder, activity, and hope ? Who can obliterate from his heart his toils, and his suffer- ings, and his joys, all which assumed a peculiar emphasis and importance, being connected with future prospects, the adversities and the successes of after life ? These things remain, while others vanish. Such feelings, so MEMORY. 299 deeply fixed in the mind, and bound together and made permanent by the strength of a mutual association, are frequently recalled ; they recur to the soul in the activity and bustle of life, and in those more favoured moments, when it is given up to silent and solemn meditations. The effect of this frequent recurrence can easily be imagined. The early impressions, which are the subjects of such re- currence become in time, if one may be allowed the ex- pression, a part of the mind itself; they seem to be woven into its existence. Hence old men, who have no eye and no hearing for the events, that are passing around them, repeat, with the greatest animation, the stories of scenes, and actions, and friendships of fifty years ago. §. 246. Memory of persons cf a rich imagination. It is a remark of Dr. Watts, that a fine genius is often found to have but a feeble memory. By a fine genius he probably understood what we commonly mean by a person of a rich imagination ; that is, one, who is furnished with a rich store of images, has readiness in the perception of their congruity or incongruity with each other, and of course has great power in the formation of various new combinations. Such a person finds a luxuriance of wealth in himself. He is continually and happily entertained with the new pictures, which his imagination creates. Hence he does not so much entertain himself with outward events ; many facts, which are particularly noticed and retained by oth- ers, pass by him unregarded ; and, therefore, quickly es- cape from his remembrance. Montaigne (§. 8.) seems to have been a person of this description ; acquainted with the general principles of the sciences, possessing an exu- berance of intellectual riches, but utterly incapable of re- membering dates, times, places, and the numerous mat- ters-of-fact of every day's occurrence. Weakness of memory in persons of a rich imagination is discovered also in their reading of books. The reason of it seems to be a too great confidence in their own abili- ty. Conscious of their own resources, they are tempted to 800 MEMORY. peruse books in a hasty and careless manner, and without due attention. The result of this careless manner, both in respect to events and the sentiments of authors, is that they are but imperfectly known at first, and are very speedily forgotten. This will not appear strange, in connection with the remark at §. 225, on the connection existing be- tween memory and attention. The weakness of memory, therefore, in persons of rich imagination is not constitution- al and permanent, but a matter of mere accident ; and, for this reason, the more discreditable. When such persons have habitually taken an interest in the common affairs of life, they are found to remember their details, however unpoetical ; and in their reading of authors nothing seems to be wanting, but interest and attention, in order to se- cure them from the reproach, under which they are thought to labour. §. 247. On the compatibility of strong memcry and good judgment. By judgments we in general understand nothing more than the opinions, which we form in view of evidence ; in other words, they are the results or conclusions of moral reasoning. By a person of good judgment, we generally mean one, who examines subjects with caution, and whose results, founded on such examination, for the most part, prove correct. That persons may possess, in a very high degree, the susceptibility of memory, and still be incapa- ble of correct moral reasoning, or of exhibiting any other indications of a well judging mind, is a fact well known. There have even been idiots, who certainly could present no claims to the character of judging well, that have, nev- ertheless, been remarkable for memory. Such are, indeed, instances of an extreme kind ;— however, there are not wanting many other cases, where strong memories have been found united with feeble judgment. On this fact, it may be remarked, as follows. The connection between a strong memory and a weak judgment, it may be said without any hesitation, is not necessary, but merely accidental ; that is, is not the con- stitution of nature, but in general the result of circumstan- MEMORY. 3U ces. As it is an accidental state of things, and not any thing essential and permanent in our mental structure, we must look for its appropriate cause in erroneous mental discipline. It may well be supposed, that those, who possess strong memories, are not insensible of their excel- lence in this respect ; and the approbation, which they have received in consequence of it, encourages them to treasure up a dry collection of all facts, which will, in any way, bear repetition. Dates, genealogies, local incidents, traditional anecdotes, are all seized, and retained with pe- culiar avidity. But too much intent upon the mere dates and names of things, such persons fail to inquire into their true nature ; they neglect other and more important forms of mental discipline ; and thus justly sustain the reputa- tion of possessing a showy, rather than discriminating and sound knowledge. In instances of this description, the relations, by which the suggested trains of thought are as- sociated, are the more slight and obvious ones, such as of time, place, <£.c. But there are some exceptions to this unwise course ; individuals may be found, who, with an astonishing ability to recal the most unimportant inci- dents of daily occurrence, as well as the dry details of historical facts, combine the far more enviable ability of discriminating the true differences of things, of combining means for the attainment of ends, and of rightly estima- ting evidence in its various applications ; which are among the characteristics of men of sound judgment. §. 24S. Intentional memory or recollection. The definition of memory, which has been given, is, that it is the power or susceptibility of the mind, from which arise those conceptions, which are modified by the relation of past time. This definition necessarily resolves memory in good part into association. It is, therefore, to be here observed, that our trains of associated thought are not voluntary ; that is, are not directly under the control of the will. They come and depart, without it being possible for us to exercise any thing more, than an indi- rect government over them. (See §. 212.) It follows -38 30* MEMORY. from these fucts, that our remembrances also are not vol- untary; or, in other words, it is impossible for us to re- member in consequence of merely choosing to remember. To will or to choose to remember any thing implies, that the thing in question is already in the mind ; and hence there is not only an impossibility resulting from the na- ture of the mind, but also an absurdity, in the idea of calling up thought by volition. Our chief power, there- fore, in quickening and strengthening the memory, will be found to consist in our skill in applying and modifying the various principles or laws of association. And this brings us to a consideration of what is called intentional memory or recollection ; a subject, which was partly illustrated in the section above referred to. Whenever we put forth an exercise of intentional mem- ory, or make a formal attempt to remember some circum- stance, it is evident, that the event in general, of which the circumstance when recalled will be foundto be a part, must have previously been an object of attention. That is, we remember the great outlines of some story, but can- not, in the first instance, give a complete account of it, which we wish to do. We make an effort to recal the cir- cumstances not remembered in two ways. We may, in the^r^ place, form different suppositions, and see, which agrees best with the general outlines ; the general features or outlines of the subject being detained before us, with a considerable degree of permanency, by means of some feeling of desire or interest. This method of restoring thoughts is rather an inference of reasoning, than a gen- uine exercise of memory. We may, in the second place, merely delay upon those thoughts, which we already hold possession of; and re- volve them in our minds ; until, aided by some principle of association, we are able to lay hold of the particular ideas, for which we were searching. Thus, when we en- deavour to recite what we had previously committed to memory, but are at a loss for a particular passage ; we repeat, a number of times, the concluding words of the MEMORY. 303 preceding sentence. In this way, the sentence, which was forgotten, is very frequently recalled. §. 249. Instance illustrative of the preceding. We had occasion, in a former section, to mention the case of an individual, who, in consequence of an attack of apoplexy, forgot all the transactions of the four years im- mediately preceding. It is further to be observed here, that the same individual recovered by degrees" all he had lost ; so as after a while to have nearly or quite as full a remembrance of that period, as others. In this instance the power of the principles of association appears to have been at first completely prostrated by the disease, without any prospect of their being again brought into action, ex- cept by some assistance afforded them. This assistance, no doubt, was reading and conversation. By reading old newspapers and by conversation, he, from time to time, fell upon ideas, which he had not only been possessed of before, but which had been associated with other ideas, forming originally distinct and condensed trains of thought. And thus whole series were restored. Other series again were recovered by applying the methods of intentional recollection ; that is, by forming suppositions and com- paring them with the ideas already recovered, or by con- tinually revolving in mind such trains as were restored, and thus rousing up others. Such, we can hardly doubt, to have been, in the main, the process, by which the per- son, of whom we are speaking, recovered the knowledge, he had lost. These views, in addition to what has now been said, may be illustrated also by what we sometimes observe in old men. Question them as to the events of early life ; and at times they will be unable to give any answer what- ever. But whenever you mention some prominent inci- dent of their young days, or perhaps some friend, on whom many associations have gathered, it will often be found, that their memory revives, and that they are able to state many things, in respect to which they were previously silent. 304 MEMORY. §. 250. Marks of a good memory. The great purpose, to which the faculty of memory is subservient, is, to enable us to retain the knowledge, which we have from our experiences, for future use. The marks of a good memory, therefore, are these three, viz., Facility in, receiving ideas, tenacity in retaining them, and readi- ness in bringing them forward on .necessary occasions. First ; of facility in receiving ideas. We very fre- quently find this characteristic of a good memory in per- sons of small education ; and it is not incompatible with a very limited genius. The intellectual habits of persons of small education, and the methods, which they follow, in retaining their knowledge, have been before partially explained. It is not, therefore, wonderful, that they should exhibit great facility in the reception of ideas of remembrance, inasmuch as they deal almost wholly with the outside or suiface of things, not only seizing upon their obvious and obtrusive appearances, but connecting them together by the most obvious laws of association. Second ; of power of retaining ideas. Memories, which have great facility in the reception, are sometimes very tenacious of what they have gotten ; but most com- monly the latter quality characterizes the memory of a different class of people; — we mean persons of reflection, who deal more with principles than facts, except when facts are brought forward to confirm and illustrate principles. Third ; of readiness in producing what is remembered. In general those persons, who possess great facility in the reception of ideas, are no less ready in calling them into service, when occasion offers. It is not common to find them at a loss. But as their thoughts are connected together by slight and casual relations, they often succeed each other in a comparatively irregular manner. For the most part, they are found to have ideas enough, and words enough ; but it is not so evident, that what they have to say is always suitable to the occasions, on which it is produced. These persons, however, often give an in- terest and a variety to common conversation, which it is very diflicult for minds of a higher order to do. -The MEMORY. 303 latter class of persons have reduced the particulars of their knowledge to principles ; it is, therefore, firmly fix- ed, and cannot be readily wrested from them ; but prin- ciples cannot be so easily brought forward on ordinary occasions, nor are they found to be so attractive and ac- ceptable with the multitude, as facts. The incidents of a murder, when the. story is well told, anest the attention of the great mass of people much more strongly, than a philosophical dissertation on the nature and aggravation of the crime. §. 251. Of the advantages of this faculty. But whether we have a memory, possessing more or less of those marks, which belong to it, as it exists in its highest state of perfection ; it is a faculty always securing to us inestimable benefits. As there could not be any comparison of our ideas without it, it is, in the first place, the foundation of the greatest part of our knowledge ; and without its assistance the human mind would necessarily be sunk into the lowest form of idiocy. And, secondly, the susceptibility of remembrances is not only necessary to us as intellectual, but also as moral beings. — Without memory we should certainly be incapable of gratitude for kindnesses received. We should be incapable of esteem, which is founded on a view of a variety of acts and quali- ties ; and be destitute also of many other moral emotions and judgments. §. 252. Means of improving the memory. But if this faculty be so exceedingly important, it be- comes us to consider in what way it may be improved. On this point the following directions are particularly worthy to be followed. (1) We are, in the first place, to make a selection among the particulars of our knowledge. It is unwise to try to remember every thing. A memory thus loaded may be compared to what Milton calls the Christian Fathers, a drag-net, which, (he says,) comes floating down to us on the stream of time, and bearing articles of most disproportion- 306 MEMORY. ate value, shells and shell-fish, jewels and pebbles, sticks and straws, sea-weeds and mud. It is important, there- fore, to distinguish things aright ; and in the multitude of particulars of greater and less value, to retain those only, which are of some real worth. (2) We are to refer our knowledge, as much as possible, to general principles. To refer our knowledge to general principles is to classify it ; and this is perhaps the best mode of classification. If a lawyer or merchant were to throw all their papers together promiscuously, they could not calculate on much readiness in finding what they might at any time want. If a man of letters were to re- cord in a common place-book all the ideas and facts, which occurred to him, without any method, he would ex- perience the greatest difficulty in applying them to use. It is the same with a memory, where there is no classifica- tion. Whoever fixes upon some general principle, wheth- er political, literary, or philosophical, and collects facts in illustration of it, will find no difficulty in remembering them, however numerous : when without such general principles the recollection of them would have been ex- tremely burdensome. (3) Never be satisfied with a partial or half acquaintance with things. There is no less a tendency to intellectu- al, than to bodily inactivity ; students, in order to avoid in- tellectual toil, are too much inclined to pass on in a hur- ried and careless manner. This is injurious to the memory. " Nothing (says Dugald Stewart) has such a tendency to weaken, not only the powers of invention, but the intellec- tual powers in general, as a habit of extensive and various reading without reflection." Always make it a rule fully to understand what is gone over. Those, who are deter- mined to grapple with the subject in hand, whatever may be its nature, and to become master of it, soon feel a great interest ; truths, which were at first obscure, become clear and familiar. Tne consequence of this increased clear- ness and interest is an increase of attention; and the nat- ural result of this is, that the truths are very strongly fixed in the memory. A perpetual vacillation between the hon- MEMORY. 809 ours and toils of science is a species of " halting between two opinions," that is not less injurious in learning, than in religion. (4) The memory may be strengthened by exercise. Our minds, when left to sloth and inactivity, lose all their vig- our ; but when they are kept in exercise, and, after per- forming what was before them, are tasked with new requi- sitions, it is not easy to assign limits to their ability. This seems to be a general and ultimate law of our nature. It is found, that all the mental susceptibilities are strength- ened by exercise, much the same as our bodily powers ; and the faculty of memory certainly not less than others. (5) Consider the nature of the study, and make ust of those helps, ivhich are thus afforded. This rule may be illustrat- ed by the mention of some departments of science. Thus, in acquiring a knowledge of geography, the study is to be pursued, as much as possible, with the aid of good globes, charts, and maps. It requires a great effort of memory, and generally an unsuccessful one, to recollect the rela- tive extent and situation of places, the numerous physical and political divisions of the earth, from the book. The advantages of studying geography with maps, globes, &c. are two, (1) — The form, relative situation, and extent of countries become, in this case, ideas, or rather conceptions of sight ; such conceptions (§. 116.) are very vivid, and are more easily recalled to remembrance, than others. (2) Our remembrances are assisted by the law of con- tiguity in place (§. 197), which is known to be one of the most efficient aids. When we have once, from having a map or globe before us, formed an acquaintance with the general visible appearance of an island, a gulf, an ocean, or a continent, nothing is more easy than to remember the subordinate divisions or parts. Whenever we have examined, and fixed in our minds the general appearance or outlines of a particular country, we do not easily forget the situation of those countries, which are contiguous. We find another illustration of this rule in the reading of history. There is such a multitude of facts in histor- ical writings, that to endeavour to remember them all \s 308 MEMORY. fruitless; and if it could be done, would be of very small advantage. Hence, in readirfg the history of any country, fix upon two or three of the most interesting epochs ; make them the subject of particular attention ; learn the spirit of the age, and the private life and fortunes of prominent individuals; in a word, study these periods not only as an- nalists, but as philosophers. When they are thus studied, the mind can hardly fail to retain them ; they will be a sort of landmarks; and all the other events in the history of the country, before and afterwards, will naturally ar- range themselves in reference to them. The memory will strongly seize the prominent periods, in consequence of the great interest felt in them ; and the less important parts of the history of the country will be likely to be retained, so far as is necessary, by aid of the principle of contiguity ; and without giving them great attention. Further, his- torical charts or genealogical trees of history are of some assistance for a similar reason, that maps, globes, &c. are in geography. This rule for strengthening the memory will apply also to the more abstract sciences. " In every science, says Stewart, (ch. vi, §. 3,) the ideas, about which it is pecu- liarly conversant, are connected together by some partic- ular associating principle ; in one science, for instance, by associations founded on the relation of cause and ef- fect ; in another, by the associations founded on the ne- cessary relations of mathematical truths." §. 253. Of committing to writing as a means of aiding the memory. Among other means of aiding the memory, it is often recommended to commit to writing the knowledge, which we acquire. This practice, if not carried too far, so as greatly to supersede the direct exercise of the memory, is attended with certain advantages, which justify an occa- sional resorting to it. (1) Often in the course of a per- son's opportunities of reading and of intercourse with the world, he becomes acquainted with facts, with which he is unwilling to burden his memory, and which he is equally unwilling to lose. Here it is proper to resort to MEMORY. 300 this method, which, at the same time, leaves the memory free for other subjects, and retains what may be found at some future period important. (2) In the progress of a person's experience and investigations, he arrives at certain important conclusions ; for in literature, and in the departments of science, and in the philosophy of hu- man conduct, there are certain principles to be ascertained, which hold a first rank, and exert their influence on all col- lateral inquiries. The means or process, by which he arrived at them, is permitted to fade away from the mind, because he has no desire to remember it. But it may often be found desirable to call in the aid of writing in order to prevent the possibility of a like result with those important principles, which he has established with no small labour. These occasional records will not only se- cure the great truths he has gained ; but will furnish land-marks of the gradual developement of the mind, and profitable intimations concerning the laws, by which it is governed. §. 254. Of Mnemonics or systems of artificial memory. By a system of mnemonics or of artificial memory is meant "a method of connecting in the mind things diffi- cult to be remembered, with things easily remembered, so as to enable it to retain and recollect the former by means of the latter." The things easy to be remembered are short and simple verses, or the walls and compartments of a room, or grotesque pictures, and the like. Important facts are to be connected with these, in the expectation, that the former will be remembered, because the latter are. It is no doubt possible to give a temporary aid to the memory by such arbitrary arrangements ; by associating our ideas with a set of sounds, places, and images. Such assistances may occasionally be of some advantage to pub- lic speakers, and to persons, who are called to remember a large number of insulated facts. But there is reason to fear that the benefit is more than counterbalanced by bur- dening and distracting the memory with what is allowed- ly frivolous and perhaps ridiculous. However this mav 30 310 SfEMORY. be, it is generally admitted to be the fact, that those systems, that are proposed for use at the present time, are too complicated for plans, which profess to render the acquisition of knowledge more easy. They can never be adopted into general use, unless they are rendered more simple ; nor do we apprehend, that a person who fol- lows the rules for strengthening and applying the memory above laid down, will stand greatly in need of any other helps in recollecting most things, that will be useful and important. Note. Locke's Essay, Bk. II. ch. x. ; Reid's Essays on the Intellectual Powders, III. ; Beattie on the Memory ; Helvetius, De L' Esprit, Disc III, chs. in, iv. ; De L' Homme, Sect. II, ch xi. ; Stewart's Elements, Chap. VI. ; Brown's Lects. xli. ; Cabanis, Rapports du Physique et du Moral De L' Homme, Mem. IV, §. x. ; besides other valuable writers on this subject too numerous to be spe- cified. For an account of Systems of Artificial Memo- ry, see the New Art of Memory on the Principles of M. Gregor von Feinagle, London, 3d ed. 1813. CHAPTER TWENTY SECOND, DREAMING. §. 255. Definition of dreams and the prevalence of them. It approaches perhaps sufficiently near to a correct description of dreams to say, that they are our mental states and operations while we are asleep. The intel- lectual Mates and exercises, which go under this name, have ever excited much interest. It is undoubtedly one reason of the attention, which the subject of our dreams has ever elicited among all classes of people, that they are so prevalent ; it being very difficult, if not impossible, to find a person, who has not had more or less of this ex- perience. 3Ir. Locke, however, tells us of an individual, who never dreamed till the twenty sixth year of his age, when he happened to have a fever, and then dreamed for the fir?t time. Plutarch also mentions one Cleon, a friend of his, who lived to an advanced age, and yet had never dreamed once in his life, and remarks, that he had heard the same thing reported of Thrasymedes. Undoubtedly these persons dreamed very seldom, as we find that some dream much more than others ; but it is possible, that they may have dreamed at some limes, and entirely forgotten it. So that it cannot with certainty be inferred from such instance- as these, that there are any, who are entirely exempt from dreaming. f . 2'Jl Connection of dreams with our waking thoughts. Ingiving an explanation of dreams, our attention is first 312 DREAMING. arrested by the circumstance, that they have an intimate relationship with our waking thoughts. The great body of our waking experiences appear in the form of trains of associations; and these trains of associated ideas, in grea- ter or less continuity, and with greater or less variation, continue when we are asleep. Many facts show this. Condorcet, (a name famous in the history of France,) told some one, that, while he was engaged in abstruse and profound calculations, he was frequently obliged to leave them in an unfinished state, in order to retire to rest; and that the remaining steps and the conclusion of his calcu- lations have more than once presented themselves in his dreams. Franklin also has made the remark, that the bearings and results of political events, which had caused him much trouble while awake, were not unfrequently un- folded to him in dreaming. " In my sleepless nights, and in my dreams, (says Fouche, when fleeing from the threatened inflictions of arbitrary power,) I imagined my- self surrounded by executioners, and seemed, as if 1 be- held, in the native country of Dante, the inexorable vision of his infernal gates."* It seems clearly to follow from such statements as these, which are confirmed by the experience of almost every person, that our dreams are fashioned from the materials of the thoughts which we have while awake ; in other words they will, in a greal degree, be merely the repetition of our customary and prevailing associations. §. 257. Dreams are often caused by our sensations. But while we are to look for the materials of our dreams in thoughts which had previously existed, we further find that they are not beyond the influence of those slight bod- ily sensations, of which we are susceptible even in hours of sleep. These sensations, slight as they are, are the means of introducing one set of associations rather than another. Dugald Stewart relates an incident, which may be con 7 * Memoirs of Fouche, duke d'Otranto, minister of the General Police of France, p. 2G7T DREAMING. 313 ndered an evidence of this, that a person, with whom he was acquainted, had occasion, in consequence of an in- disposition, to apply a bottle of hot water to his feet when he went to bed, and the consequence was, that he dreamed he was making a journey to the top of mount iEtna, and that he found the heat of the ground almost insupportable. There was once a gentleman in the English army, who was so susceptible of audible impressions, while he was asleep, that his companions could make him dream of what they pleased. Once, in particular they made him go through the whole process of a duel, from the preliminary arrangements to the firing of the pistol, which they put in- to his hand for that purpose, and which, when it exploded, waked him. A cause of dreams closely allied to the above is the variety of sensations, which we experience from the stom- ach, viscera, dec. Persons, for instance, who have been for a long time deprived of food, or have received it only in small quantities hardly enough to preserve life, will be likely to have dreams, in some way or other directly rela- ting to their condition. Baron Trenck relates, that being almost dead with hunger, when confined in his dungeon, his dreams every night presented to him the well filled and luxurious tables of Berlin, from which, as they were pre- sented before him, he imagined he was about to relieve his hunger. The state of health also has considerable influence, not only in producing dreams, but in giving them a particular character. The remark has been made by medical men, that acute diseases, particularly fevers, are often prece- ded and indicated by disagreeable and oppressive dreams. §. 258. Explanation of the incoherency of dreams. (1st cause.) There is frequently much of wildness, inconsistency, and contradiction in our dreams. The mind passes very rapidly from one object to another ; strange and singular incidents occur. If our dreams be truly the repetition of our waking thoughts, it may well be inquired. How this wildness and inconsistency happen ? dli DREAMING. The explanation of this peculiarity resolves itself into two parts. The first ground or cause of it is, that our dreams are not subjected, like our waking thoughts, to the control and regulation of surrounding objects. While we are awake, our trains of thought are kept uniform and co- herent by the influence of such objects, which continual- ly remind us of our situation, character, and duties ; and which keep in check any tendency to reverie. But in sleep the senses are closed ; the soul is accordingly in a great measure excluded from the material world, and is thus deprived of the salutary regulating influence from that source. §. 259. Second cause of the incoherency of dreams. In the second place, when we are asleep, our associa- ted trains of thought are no longer under the control of the mental power or susceptibility, which we term the will. We do not mean to say, that the operations of that susceptibility are suspended at such times, and that voli- tions have no existence. On the contrary, there is suffi- cient evidence of the continuance of its exercises in some degree : since volitions must have made a part of the orig- inal trains of thought, which are repeated in dreaming ; and furthermore, we are often as conscious of exercising or putting forth volitions when dreaming as of any other mental acts, for instance, imagining, remembering, assent- ing, or reasoning. When we dream, that we are attack- ed by an enemy sword in hand, but happen as we suppose in our dreaming experiences, to be furnished in self-de- fence with an instrument of the same kind, we dream, that we mil to exert it for our own safety and against our an- tagonist, and we as truly in this case put forth the men- tal exercise which we term volition, as, in any other, we exercise remembrance, or imagine, or reason in our sleep. Admitting that the power or susceptibility of willing continues to act in sleep, it is quite evident, that the voli- tions, which are put forth by it, have ceased to exercise their customary influence in respect to our mental opera- tions. But here it will be said, that the will is unable t» DREAMING. 315 exercise a direct influence over the successions of thought, even when we are awake. This point has been already ex- amined sufficiently. (See §. 212.) The conclusion, at which we there arrived, was, that, although we have no direct, we have an indirect power over the successions of thought, which is very considerable ; for instance, by means of a feeling of desire or interest we fix our attention upon some particular part of any general subject, which has been suggested, and thus give a new direction to the whole train of mental operations. Although this power, which we thus exercise, is indirect, we justly consider it a voluntary power, and attribute it to the faculty of the will. But the moment we are soundly asleep, this influence ceases, and hence in connection with the other cause above mention- ed, arise the wildness, incoherency, and contradictions, which exist. A person while he is awake has his thoughts, (admit- ting to the full extent the power, which is commonly as- cribed to association,) under such government, and is able, by the indirect influence of volitions, so to direct them, as to bring them in the end to some conclusion, which he foresees and which he wishes to arrive at. But in dream- ing, as all directing and governing influence, both inter- nal and external, is at an end, our associations seem to be driven forward, much like a ship at sea without a rudder, wherever it may happen. §. 260. Apparent reality of dreams. (1st cause.) When objects are presented to us in dreams, we look upon them as real ; and events, and combinations and series of events appear the same. We feel the same interest and resort to the same expedients, as in the per- plexities or enjoyments of real life. When persons are introduced, as forming a part in the transactions of our dreams, we see them clearly in their living attitudes and stature; we converse with them and hear tiiem speak and behold them move, as if actuaJiy present. One reason of this greater vividness of our dreaming conceptions and of our firm belief in their reality seems to 316 DREAxMING. be this. The subjects, upon which our thoughts are then employed, occupy the mind exclusively. We can form a clearer conception of an object with our eyes shut, than we can with them open, as any one will be convinced on making the experiment ; and the liveliness of the concep- tion will increase in proportion, as we can suspend the ex- ercise of the other senses. In sound sleep, not only the sight, but the other senses also may be said to be closed ; and the attention is not continually diverted by the multi- tude of objects, which arrest the hearing and touch, when we are awake. It is, therefore, a most natural supposition, that our conceptions must at such times be extremely vivid and distinct. At §. 119, we particularly remarked upon con- ceptions or those ideas which we have of absent objects of perception, which possess this vividness of character. And it there appeared, that they might be attended with a momentary belief even when we are awake. But as con- ceptions exist in the mind when we are asleep in a much higher degree distinct and vivid, what was in the former case a momentary, becomes in the latter a permanent be- lief. Hence every thing has the appearance of reality ; and the mere thoughts of the mind are virtually transform- ed into persons, and varieties of situation, and events, which are regarded by us in precisely in the same light as the persons, and situations, and events of our every day's experience. §. 261. Apparent reality of dreams. (2d cause ) A second circumstance, which goes to account for the fact, that our dreaming conceptions have the appearance of reality is, that they are not susceptible of being controlled, either directly or indirectly, by mere vo- lition. We are so formed as almost invariably to asso- ciate reality with whatever objects of perception continue to produce in us the same effects. A hard or soft body, or any substance of a particular colour, or taste, or smell, are always, when presented to our senses, followed by cer- tain states of mind essentially the same ; and we yield the CREAMING. Si? rfiost ready and firm belief in the existence of such ob- jects. In a word, we arc disposed from our very constitu- tion to believe in the existence of objects of perception, the perceptions of which do not depend ou the will, but which we find to be followed by certain states of the mind, whether we choose it or not. But it is to be recollected, that our dreaming thoughts are mere concep- tions ; our senses being closed and shut up, and external objects not being presented to them. This is true. But if we conclude in favour of the real existence of objects of perception, because they produce in us ideas indepen- dently of our volitions, it is but natural to suppose, that we shall believe in the reality of our conceptions also, whenever they are in like manner beyond our voluntary control. They are both merely states of the mind ; and if belief always attends cur perceptions, wherever we find them to be independent of our choice, there is no reason, why conceptions, which are ideas of absent objects of per- ception, should not be attended with a like belief under the same circumstances. — And essentially the same cir- cumstances exist in dreaming ; that is, a train of concep- tions arises in the mind, and we are conscious at such, times of being unable to exercise any direction or control whatever over them. They exist, whether we will it or not ; and we regard them as real. §. 202. Of our estimate of time in dreaming. Our estimate of time in dreaming differs from that when awake. Events, which would take whole days or a longer time in the performance, are dreamt in a few mo- ments. So wonderful is this compression of a multitude of transactions into the very shortest period, that, when we are accidentally awakened by the jarring of a door, which is opened into the room where we are sleeping, we some- times dream of depredations by thieves, or of destruction by fire, in the very instant of our awaking. Our dreams will not unfrequently go through all the particulars of a. passage of the Alps, or of a military expedition to Moscow, or of a circumnavigation of the globe, or of other l«ng 10 316 DREAMING, and perilous undertakings, in a less number of hours, than it took weeks, or months, or even years in the ac- tual performance of them. We go from land to land, and from city to city, and into desert places ; we expe- rience transitions from joy to sorrow, and from poverty to wealth ; we are occupied in the scenes and transac- tions of many long months ; and then our slumbers are scattered, and, behold, they are the doings of a single watch of the night ! This striking circumstance in the history of our dreams is generally explained by supposing, that our thoughts, as they successively occupy the mind, are more rapid, than while we are awake. But their rapidity is at all times very great ; so much so, that, in a few moments, crowds of ideas pass through the mind, which it would take a long time to utter, and a far longer time would it take to per- form all the transactions, which they concern. This ex- planation, therefore, is not satisfactory, for our thoughts are oftentimes equally rapid in our waking moments. The true reason, we apprehend, is to be found in those preceding sections, which took under examination the apparent reality of dreams. Our conceptions in dreaming are considered by us real ; every thought is an action ; every idea is an event ; and successive states of mind are successive actions and successive events. He, who in his sleep has the conception of all the particulars of a milita- ry expedition to Moscow, or of a circumnavigation of the globe, seems to himself to have actually experienced all the various and multiplied fortunes of the one and the other. Hence what appears to be the real time in dreams, but is only the apparent time, will be not that, which is sufficient for the mere thought, but that, which is neces sary for the successive actions. " Something perfectly analogous to this may be re- marked (says Mr. Stewart) in the perceptions we obtain by the sense of sight.* When I look into a shew-box, where tjie deception is imperfect, I see only a set of paltry daubings of a few inches in diameter ; but if the repre- *Stewart's Elements, Chapter on Dreaming. DREAMING. 319 sontation be executed with so much skill, as to convey to jiic the idea of a distant prospect, every object before me swells in its dimensions, in proportion to the extent of space, which I conceive it to occupy, and what seemed before to be shut within the limits of a small wooden frame, is magnified, in my apprehension, to an immense landscape of woods, rivers, and mountains." §. 263. Of the senses sinking to sleep in succession. It is true as a general statement, that in sleep the mind ceases to retain its customary power over the mus- cular movements of the system ; and all the senses also are at such times locked up, and no longer perform their usual offices. The effect upon the senses is such, that it seems to be proper to speak of them as individually going to sleep and awaking from sleep. It remains, therefore, to be observed, that there is some considerable reason to suppose, that the senses fall asleep in succession. For a detailed explanation and proof of this singular fact, ref- erence must be had to Cullen, and particularly to Caba- nis,* a French writer on subjects of this nature ; but the conclusions, at which they arrive on this particular point, may be here stated. The sight, in consequence of the protection of the eyelids, ceases to receive impressions first, while all the other senses preserve their sensibility entire ; and may, therefore, be said to be first in falling asleep. The sense of taste, according to the above writers, is the next, which loses its susceptibility of impressions, and then the sense of smelling. The hearing is the next in order, and last of all comes the sense of touch. Furthermore, the senses are thought to sleep with dif- ferent degrees of profoundness. The senses of taste and smelling awake the last ; the sight with more difficulty than the hearing, and the touch the easiest of all. Some- times a very considerable noise does not awake a person, but if the soles of his feet are tickled in the slightest de- gree, he starts up immediately. *Rapports du Physique et du Moral De L'llomme, Mem. x. 39g DREAMING. Similar remarks are made by the, writers above refer- red to, on the muscles. Those, which move the arms and legs, cease to act, when sleep is approaching, sooner than those, which sustain the head ; and the latter before those, which support the back. And here it is proper to no- tice an exception to the general statement at the com- mencement of this section, that the mind in sleep ceases to retain its power over the muscles. Some persons can sleep standing, or walking, or riding on horseback ; with such we cannot well avoid the supposition, that the volun- tary power over the muscles is in some way retained and exercised in sleep. — These statements are particularly im- portant in connection with the facts of somnambulism ; only admit, that the susceptibility of the senses, and the power of the muscles may remain even in part while we are asleep, and we can account for them. AVe know, that this is not the case in a vast majority of instances, but that it does sometimes happen, is a point, which seems at last to be sufficiently well established. §. 2G4. Remarks on Somnambulists. Somnambulists are persons, who are capable of walk- ing and other of voluntary actions while asleep. Some of the facts in respect to them are these. The senses are in general closed, and are not susceptible of beinga fleeted by outward objects, much the same as in ordinary sleep; with^ some slight exceptions, however, hereafter to be mention- ed. Hence, the somnambulist walks, and performs other voluntary actions without the use of vision ; and yet in some cases he has his eyes open, but is still unable to see. Doing the works of day at unseasonable hours, he piles up his wood at midnight; or yokes his oxen, or goes to mill, and all the while is as profoundly asleep as any of his neighbours; until he falls over some obstacle at his feet, or rides against a tree, or is in some other way brought to *his recollection. He is not certain of walking in safe pla- ces, but may sometimes be found on the roof of houses or on the edge of precipices, but evidently with an utter in- sensibility to terrour. He is a sort of automatic machine, DREAMING. 32i that is carried about from place to place, but without feel- ing, vision, hearing, or other exercises of the senses ; and .still more without calculation, or any thing, which may be truly called reasoning ; always excepting such calcula- tion and reasoning as may be found in dreams.* Of such persons many instances are on record, and of some a particular account is given. The accompanying in- stance in the note will help to illustrate the above asser- tions, which, as a general statement, are sufficiently near the truth. The explanation, which seems on the whole the most satisfactory, is this; viz. (1) The somnambulist is in all cases dreaming, and we may suppose in general, that the dream is one, which greatly interests him. (2) Those volitions, which are a part of his dreams, re- tain their power over the mucles, which is not the fact in the sleep and the dreaming of the great body of people. *The following is an instance of somnambulism, which recently took place, of an extraordinary character. — A farmer in one of the counties of Massachusetts had employed himself, for some weeks in winter, thrashing his grain. One night as he was about closing his labours, he ascended a ladder to the top o: the great beams in the barn, where the rye, which he was thrashing, was deposited, to as- certain what number of bundles remained unthrashed, which he de- termined to finish the next day. The ensuing night, about two o'clock, as was supposed, he was heard by one of the family to get up and go out. He repaired to his barn being in sound sleep, and altogether unconscious of what he was doing, set open his barn doors, ascended the groat beams of the barn where his rye was deposited, threw down a flooring, and commenced thrashing it. When be had completed it, he raked off the straw, and shoved the rye to one side of the floor, and then carried the straw up the ladder and deposited it on some rails, that lay across the great beams. He then threw down another flooring of rye, which he thrashed and finished as before. Thus he continued his labours until he had thrashed five floorings, and on returning from throwing down the sixth and last, ir, passing over part of the hay-mow, he fell off*, where the hay had been cut down about six feet, on to the lower part of it, which awoke him. lie at first imagined himself in his neighbour's barn, but after groping about in the dark for a long time, ascertained that he was in his own, and at length found the ladder, on which he descended to the floor, closed his barn doors, which he found open, and returned to his house. On coming to the light, he found himself in such a profuse perspira- tion, that his clothes were literally wet through. The next morning on going to his barn, he found that he had thrashed, during the ni^ht, five bushels of rye, had raked the straw off* in good order, and depos- ited it on the great beams, and carefully shoved the grain to one side of the floor, without the least consciousness of what he was doing until he fell from the hav. 322 DREAMING. Consequently, whatever the somnambulist dreams* is not only real in the mind, as in all other dreamers, but his ability to exercise his muscles enables him to give it a re- ality in action. Whether he dream of writing a letter, or of visiting a neighbour's house, or even of thrashing out Ins grain, his muscles are faithful to his vivid mental con- ceptions, which we may suppose in all cases closely con- nected with his customary labours and experiences, and carry him pretty safely through the operation, however sightless may be his eye, or dull his other senses. Further ; We are not to forget here a remark on the sleep of the senses, already alluded to, and which is an exception to the general statement in regard to them. Both in somnambulism and in ordinary cases of dreaming the senses are not always entirely locked up ; many ob- servations clearly show, that it is possible for the mind to be accessible through them, and that a new direction may be given in this way to a person's dreams without awaking him. Hence somnambulists may sometimes have very slight visual perceptions ; they may in some slight measure be guided by sensations of touch ; all the senses may be affected in a small degree by their appropriate ob- jects, or this may be the case with some and not with oth- ers, without effectually disturbing their sleep. — These facts will be found to help in explaining any circumstan- ces, which may be thought not to come within the reach of the general explanation above given. CHAPTER TWENTY THIRD. OF BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. §. 265. Of truth and the different kinds of it. We enter now upon a series of topics of a somewhat -different character from those, which have preceded ; the nature and grounds of belief, reasoning, truth, knowledge, and collateral subjects. With respect to what goes under the name of Truth, it must be confessed, although no word is more frequently upon the lips of men, there is no small difficulty in giving a definition or description of it, which will be acceptable to all. This term, however, when applied to objects of whatever kind, seems to be on- ly another name for the existence of those objects, and of their qualities and relations, as they really are. Hence it is evident, that Truth is susceptible of the division, which has been made by some writers, into necessary and con- tingent. Necessary Truths are such as are descriptive of those properties in objects, which always exist the same, and can neither be caused nor annulled by the will of any be- ing whatever. The proposition, that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones, expresses a truth of this kind. Contingent Truths have relation to those tlungs,*which are not necessarily permanent. The propo- sition, that the world exists, expresses a truth of this des- cription. 324 OF BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. §. 266. Of truth in relation to the human mind. But the truth of things may exist, when there are n'o minds to contemplate it. The properties of a triangle were the same, before they were discovered, as after ; and the fact of the world's existence cannot be supposed ever to have depended upon the mere circumstance of its be- ing known by men or not. Nevertheless, we apply the term under consideration to men, to their thoughts, rea- sonings, conclusions. We often say in reference to a per- son, that his statements are true, that his views are true, or that he has truth on his side. If then we inquire into the nature of Truth, considered relatively to the human intellect, we must say, It is the conformity of our thoughts or mental states to things, as they actually exist. Agreeably to this definition, we may say of any proposi- tions whatever, whether expressed in words or merely men- tal, that they are true, whenever they represent things, as they are. And, consequently, all are necessarily true or false, being either conformed or not conformed to the na- ture and state of things. And hence the reasonableness of the saying, that truth does not always depend upon be- lief. The proposition, that redness is a quality inherent in a soldier's coat, is no doubt, firmly believed by many, but it is not true in the sense, in which it is generally un- derstood to be so. We have already seen, that this and other colours are sensations in the mind, or at least in- volve such sensations. The belief, which people have in regard to it, does not affect the truth of the proposition itself. We may have false belief, since we may have false, or at least imperfect perceptions, false or pretended facts, and false testimony, which are among the grounds or antecedents of belief. But this subject is further to be- considered. §. 267. Of the nature and degrees of belief. Belief is the name of a simple idea, of a simple intel- lectual state, with which we become acquainted, in the phraseology of Mr. Locke, from reflection ; that is, from internal observation, or what is otherwise called Con- Or BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. 305 sciousness. Xot being a complex, but an uncompounded feelirg, it 'Iocs not admit of definition ; although no one is supposed to be ignorant, either of its existence, or of its nature. As it is a simple idea, belief is in its nature always the same ; but it admits of different degrees. We determine these differences of strength in the feeling by means of that same internal consciousness, which assures us of the existence of the mere feeling itself. In other words, we are conscious of, or feel our belief to be some- times weaker, an J at other times stronger. To these different degrees of this mental state, we give different names ; a low degree is termed presi ^p- tion ; a higher degree, probability ; and the highest pos- sible belief is termed certainty. The term, certainty, is sometimes qualified by an epi- thet, expressive of the antecedents of the state of mind, which we thus denominate. Thus when it has resulted front demonstrative reasoning, (which will shortly be ex- plained,) it is called demonstrative certainty ; when it is successive to a train of moral reasoning, it is termed mor- al certainty. When the mind is in that state, denom- inated certainty, we are said to know the thing, to which this very strong belief relates. So that knowledge and certainty are sometimes used as synonymous. But knowl- edge is ordinarily regarded and employed as a synonyme with Truth, when the latter term is used in relation to the ^uman mind : because we find the highest possible belief is sometimes caused by imperfect or false evidence. -. Of the grounds of belief or evidence in general. That state of mind, which we call belief, is ordinarilv preceded by something, which is its cause. And the be- lief will vary, being more or less strong according to the nature of the cause. The cause or ground of belief is commonly known under the name of evidence, which literally sign fies, (from the Latin evidentia,) clearness or per.-picuousness ; and hence by a common figure of speech has come to mean that: which makes perspicuous, or known. Evidence, therefore, (taking the term U 826 OF BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. in its widest or general sense,) is a general name for any thing, which is naturally fitted to affect our belief. We here see, as in multitudes of other cases, the beau- tiful economy of our mental constitution. The human mind is, on the one hand, so framed, that it necessarily believes, when evidence is presented ; and on the other, our Creator has so ordered things within and without us, that there is no want of circumstances, which sustain an effective relation to the susceptibility of believing. If our Creator had not furnished the mind with the suscepti- bility of belief in its various degrees, and had not appoint- ed certain things in the constitution of nature as the antecedents or causes of these states of mind, it is evident, that man would have been lamentably deficient in those principles of action, which constitute him a mor- al being. The more so, when we consider, that those states of mind, to which we give the name of belief, pre- cede volition, and are necessary to it ; and that volition is requisite, in the view of all, to a moral being. Belief and evidence, therefore, may both be considered as hav- ing their foundation in the constitution of our nature ; and as giving to that constitution a harmony and a power of action, which it would not otherwise possess. §. 260. Of the evidence of the senses. One ground of belief, which continually controls our conviction, and through that our actions, is the senses. It is in vain for us to attempt to release ourselves from the influence of what we hear, see, and touch. But it is said, that our senses sometimes deceive us. Whether they de- ceive us not, they certainly control our belief; and that is the point under consideration. But taken as a whole, and in their condition of mutual relationship and aid, it is not true, that they deceive us ; provided always, they are in a sound and healthy state. When taken singly, and without the assistances, to which they are entitled from the comparing and judging susceptibilities of the mind, they at times unquestionably give an imperfect, a defective, (it can hardly be called, a false) view of things. But OF BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. 327 they were not designed to act independently of each other and without aid from the mind ; and the charge of defec- tive or false information can be sustained only on that supposition. By means of the senses, we have the highest possible belief, (that is to say, we have certainty,) of the existence of external objects. The conviction of their reality is not only strong ; it may be said, if we may reason from men's actions, that it is universal. The belief of the internal feelings and exercises, of which we are conscious, is not stronger. If we doubt in one case, the way is fairly open for scepticism in both. And he, who doubts of the reality of the exercises of the soul, should, in order to be consistent, question the existence of the soul itself. (See §. 18.) §. 270. Of internal observation or consciousness as a ground of belief. When we turn our attention from the external to the internal world, from the mind as it is affected by matter to the mind as it is affected by its own operations ; we dis- cover another source of evidence. The notice, which the mind takes of its own operations, has already been mentioned as one source of knowledge ; and it requires but little reflection to perceive, that whatever we know controls our belief more or less. From the nature of the case, our belief will vary with the extent of our knowl- edge, whenever the particulars, which we have treasured up, have a direct, or even remote relation to the subject under consideration. Hence internal observation, (otherwise called reflection or consciousness,) furnishes evidence, or rather is evidence itself. We often yield our assent to propositions, when all we can say, is, that we are inwardly conscious of certain authoritative feelings, or that there is a voice within, which tells us to. The soul of man, first called into exercise by external objects, evolves from its own recesses, as it perceives, feels, and judges, new per- ceptions, new feelings, new judgments ; as streams flow out from inexhaustible fountains. All these have at times a relation to, and control our belief. 82S OF BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. §. 271. Of the form of internal observation, termed intuitive perceptions. Among the other internal feelings, of which we are con- scious, and which affect our belief, are those, which in common language are termed intuitive perceptions. This is the name given to those states of the mind, where there is an immediate feeling of the agreement or disagreement of two or more ideas without the intervention of a third. For instance, three and three are six ; things equal to the same are equal to one another ; the whole is greater than a part. In these propositions and others like them, it is at once felt by the mind, that there is an agreement of ideas, or that what is expressed in the predicate accords with what is expressed in the subject of the proposition. We do not learn it by a process of reasoning, but we feel* we know at once, that they agree, or are compatible with each other. Under this head we ought perhaps to consider the be- lief, which we indulge in respect to the future. We be- lieve, that the sun will, rise and set tomorrow, as he has to-day ; we believe, that there will be a return of the seasons, and that the flower will bloom in spring and fade in autumn, as in times past. We constantly act on this be- lief, which we have in the continuance of the appearances, and of the results of nature. And how is it to be explained ? The explanation given by some, is, that it is owing to ex- perience. But experience, as the word is used in the pres- ent case, is nothing more than an observation of facts, and of their conjunction or connection with each other. And hence, although experience may teach us the occasion of the feeling in question, it utterly fails to teach us the cause. "We might know the fact, that certain things reg- ularly precede and follow each other, without possessing the feeling, without believing in, or anticipating, that there would be a repetition of the same regularity of precedence and succession. Nevertheless we always exercise this feeling of anticipative belief; it reaches and influences us in all our conduct, and all we can say in regard to it, is, that it is intuitive. And this is much the same as merely OP BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. 329 to say, that we have the feeling, that we are conscious of it. and that, in reference to the antecedents and consequents of the natural world, it arises promptly and unaided. 272. Of memory a3 a ground of belief. Another source of evidence is the memory. — In our transitions from place to place, and from scene to scene, we see and hear what will perhaps afterwards never come within the range of our experience. When we subsequently act upon what has thus been once under the examination of the senses, we rely upon the remembrance. So far as we are confident, that the original perceptions are cor- rectly reported in the remembrance, the latter as decided- ly controls our belief and actions, as if the original objects were present. This is the fact ; and in confirmation of it we might safely appeal to the declarations and the conduct of the great body of mankind. But what is the resolu- tion of this confident reliance ? What is the ground of it ? The reply here as in other cases is, It is our nature, our mental constitution, the will and ordinance of the Being, who created us. " There must be, (says Campbell.) in human nature, some original grounds of belief, beyond which our researches cannot proceed, and of which, there- fore, it is in vain to attempt a rational account."* By these last expressions he must probably be understood to say, that we cannot account for or explain them by referring them to any principles more general or more deep in our nature. They are ultimate truths or facts, which we know ; but in regard to which we have no further knowl edge than of their existence. (See §. 19.) § 273. Of testimony or the observation of others as a source of evidence. Another form of evidence is Testimony ; by which is commonly understood the report of men concerning those things, which have fallen under the observation of their senses. As to the fact, that we readily receive the tes- timony of our fellow beings as evidence, it is undeniable. * Campbell's Dissertation on Miracles in answer to Hume, Pfc I. §. 1. 330 OP BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. 'Without such confidence in what they assert, every one'* knowledge of events and facts would be limited to those only, of which he himself had been a personal witness. In this case, no American, who has not been a traveller, can believe, that there is such a city as London ; and no Englishman can believe, that there is such a city as Rome ; and no person whatever has any ground for be- lieving, that such men as Hannibal and Caesar have ever existed. — But then it is to be remembered, that there is no natural connection between words and things, between the testimony, which is given, and the thing concerning which it is given. This being the case, it has often been asked, Upon what principle do we give credit to human testimony ? — And the question certainly has a direct con- nection with the philosophy of the human mind, and de- serves consideration. §. 274. Of the origin of our belief in testimony. Mr. Hume maintains, that our confidence in testimony- is derived from no other principle, than our observation of the veracity of men, and of the usual conformity of facts to the reports of witnesses. In other words, he makes experience the foundation of our confidence or be- lief in testimony. But there are two objections to this explanation, which are thought by many quite to over- throw his view of the subject. The first is, that there are certain facts in the history of human nature, which do not agree with, or rather which contradict it. Children, who have had but very little experience, give their assent to testimony, and the strength of their assent or belief will be the greater, the less re- moved they are from infancy. The credulity of children has almost passed into a proverb ; youth surrenders its be- lief almost as readily ; but manhood, which has seen more of the operation of the human passions, becomes cau- tious; and often the caution of manhood degenerates in old age into a suspicion and distrust of the worst kind. What then becomes of the doctrine of Mr. Hume, that OP BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. a?l confidence in testimony is the result of experience ? One would think, if this be the course which things take, that the opposite of his statement is nearer the truth. In the second place, the doctrine, that experience is the foundation of our belief in testimony, falls far short of explaining the whole amount of our belief from that source ; as will appear from the following views. Experience, as the term is ordinarily employed in ref- erence to the present subject, is a personal observation of the agreement between the fact, and the statement, made respecting it. A certain thing is stated ; the result or fact is found to agree with what is asserted ; and, therefore, we are led to believe other statements. But it is unde- niable, that we also believe many things, where we have not been favoured with personal experience of the veracity of the narrator. We believe in the existence of Constanti- nople, the river Niger, the Grand Lama, and of other cities, rivers, and men on the testimony of persons, whom we have never seen, and the conformity of whose words and actions we have had no opportunity to verify. So that taking the term experience in the more limited and appropriate sense, the explanation of Mr. Hume will not hold, because it. falls short of the full extent of our belief. If we use the term in a broader sense, to signify our knowledge of certain general principles of human na- ture, such, for instance, as that men are prone to utter the truth, the difficulty is still apparent and insuperable. How does any individual become acquainted with this gen- eral experience, this general, knowledge of the character- istics of human nature? Undoubtedly it will be said by means of testimony. Here we have an instance of that parologism, which is called reasoning in a circle. We believe in multitudes of things from testimony in conse- quence of our experience in respect to mankind in gener- al ; we acquire this experience of mankind, since our per- sonal acquaintance extends to but very few, from testimo- nv ; therefore, testimony is the foundation of testimony. 032 OF BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. §. 275. Confidence in testimony founded in an original tendency of our constitution. We must, therefore, adopt some other explanation ; and we cannot but think, there is good reason for suppos- ing, that confidence in testimony has its foundation in an original tendency of our minds. Certainly the wise Author of our nature intended, men should live together in socie- ty. Consequently, he would give to them those mental tendencies, which are suitable and necessary in such a sit- uation ; such, for instance, as a disposition to speak the truth. And accordingly we find, that men are disposed to speak the truth, to convey, in their intercourse with oth- ers, their real sentiments. The telling of falsehoods is undoubtedly a violence to our natures, and the greatest liars tell the truth an hundred times, where they utter a falsehood once. — But it is no harder to believe, that we naturally credit testimony, or have a natural tendency of that sort, than that we naturally speak the truth. Indeed the latter tendency, or a disposition to speak truth, seems to require just such a counterpart in our constitution as the former, and without the one, the other would lose no small share of its fitness and worth. For surely a natural tendency to speak the truth would be very near superflu- ous, if there were not in our nature something correspon- ding, which should lead us to yield, to what we hear, a ready and confiding assent. In answer, therefore, to the inquiry, What is the foundation of our belief in testimony? We reply in short, that we are naturally led, or are led by the principles of our mental constitution, not only to speak the truth, but to yield a ready assent to what we hear spo- ken, or to testimony. Furthermore, this original tendency to believe in testi- mony is weakened in most cases, as we have great reason to think, the further we advance in life. At first we yield our assent without any hesitation ; to doubt is unnatural, and when we are compelled to do it, it is no small trial to our feelings. But no one lives long and mingles much with men, without being deceived many times. We learn by degrees the wide influence of interested motives; and OF BELIEF AND EVIDENCE. 333 so far from falling in with Mr. Hume's hypothesis, we have greater reason for saying, that experience leads us to dis- trust, where nature would prompt us to believe. <§. 576. Of reasoning as a ground of belief. But there remains to be mentioned another prominent method, in which our belief is both caused and controlled, viz. by means of reasoning. The definition commonly given of reasoning, i?, That it is a mental process, by- means of which we infer unknown truths from those, which are already known or admitted. In order to reasoning, therefore, there must be a num- ber of perceptions, facts, or truths given ; which we may suppose to exist, either mentally or verbally, in the form of propositions. These propositions are compared togeth- er ; that is, are successively considered by the mind. In this way, various new feelings arise, until we arrive at the conclusion. The conclusion, at which we arrive in com- pleting this process, is nothing more than a feeling, a new state of the mind. It is a feeling, nevertheless, which would not have existed without the preceding steps ; but which, having once arisen, controls more or less according to circumstances the belief of men, and through that, their actions. These are among the principal grounds of belief; (1) The Senses, (2) Internal Observation or con- sciousness, (3) The Memory. (4) Testimony. (5) Rea- soning. t: CHAPTER TWENTY FOURTH, EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. §. 277. Of the importance of the evidence of testimony and of ite perversions. Of the subjects introduced into the preceding chap- ter, that of the evidence of testimony possesses peculiar importance. Although every person possesses a fund of evidence in himself, independently of that of testimony he is confessedly restricted as to other grounds of belief by the limits of his mere personal experience. Whereas by means of the evidence of testimony, he is able to call upon, and command the experience of the whole mass of mankind. But the importance of this form of evidence does not depend merely upon its extent. It not only has the merit of influencing our conduct in all our ordinary concerns ; but is constantly appealed to, in courts of justice, and in the most serious and weighty transactions. Individuals are frequently required to give testimony, which involves, in its results, the reputation, property, and life of their fel- lows. But it cannot be denied, although we are led by the natural and original impulse of our nature to rely on testimony, that it is from various causes liable to be per- plexed and perverted. A perversion of it may even exist without necessarily implying any evil intention on the part of the person, who testifies. And hence we are EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 335 Jed briefly to prosecute this subject, and to point out some of the causes of mistake from this source, and also their correctives. §. 27S. Of the competency of the person who testifies. Before speaking of those circumstances, which perplex and give a wrong bias to "the judgment, a prior inquiry seems to be as to the competency of the witness to form an opinion on that subject, to which his testimony relates. Witnesses sometimes labour under a natural incapacity of judging, which necessarily annuls their testimony. A per- son, who is deprived of the sense of hearing, is not capa- ble of testifying to the oral assertions of others; and a blind man cannot give testimony on subjects, the knowl- edge of which necessarily implies the existence of the sense of seeing. The competency of the narrator, there- fore, to judge in respect to that subject, on which his tes- timony is given, is very justly to be examined into. And in the question of competency, we may not only inquire into the capacity, or want of it in the witness ; we may further inquire into his opportunities of exercising that capacity, which he is acknowledged to possess. Jf he testifies, that he saw an object or action, when circum- stances positively show, that he had no opportunity of thus seeing, his testimony is as much invalidated, as if he laboured under a natural incapacity of sight. If, for in- stance, it be necessarily implied in what he says, that he was in a particular place, but on inquiry circumstances satisfactorily show, that he was not there, then evidently he had no opportunity of knowing what he testifies, and his declarations are to be set aside. §. 279. Of habits of veracity in connection with testimony. People can hardly expect to hear the truth from those, who are in the practice of uttering falsehoods ; and it is, therefore, proper to inquire, What are the witness' char- ter and habits in this respect? — Of professed liars, we have here nothing to say. Of persons, who are in the practice of telling the truth, and whose habits are ac- 3B6 EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. knowledged to be those of veracity, a distinction may be made between two classes. (1) Some men are, in principle and in practice, scru- pulous. They have so long and so steadily exhibited this trait, that it seems to be inherent, something in the consti- tution. Persons of this character are found to be some- what averse to stating what has not come within their own personal observation and knowledge. When repeating the assertions of others, they do not incline to conceal their authority, but are desirous that it should be known ; and would not, on any consideration, convey a wrong im- pression. This is their general character, although there is a difference among individuals of this class, and some are found to be less particular in their ordinary assevera- tions and in more serious testimony, than others. (2) There is a second class of persons, who would es- teem themselves injured in having their veracity suspect- ed, but who have formed habits, which render it necessary, that their testimony should be carefully examined. We allude particularly to the habit, which seme have formed of telling extraordinary stories, or anecdotes of whatever kind, which are intended, and are calculated to interest. They consider themselves in a measure pledged to meet the interest, which they know to be excited on the part of those present, and are, therefore, under an extraordina- ry temptation to enliven and embellish their narration. If any circumstances have escaped their memory, which were essential to the unity of the story, their own inven- tion is taxed to furnish them, since it is too late to search for, and of too much consequence to omit them. They become in time not a little insensible to the false colour- ing, which they give to their statements, and convey erro- neous impressions, without being conscious of an inten- tion to deceive. Such persons, when called upon to testify on oath, will be likely to give a false colouring to the most serious statements, similar to that, which height- ens their discourses to their fire-side hearers. We would n<>t say, that they intentionally do this. But those, who are acquainted with the power of habit, will readily imag- EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 337 ine the possibility of their thus doing, without its being implied, that they are designedly untrue. •. Of the influence of friendship, &.c, on testimony. Friendship is generally founded on our favourable opinion of the good qualities of those, towards whom we have friendly feelings. In the ordinary course of things, no one can be expected to cherish the feelings of friend- ship towards a person, whom he knows to be a knave, or a hypocrite, or in any other respects essentially bad. Whenever a witness, therefore, is called upon to give tes- timony unfavourable to the case of a friend, he will find, on a little examination of himself, that his testimony is modified by his own previous feelings and opinions. This modification of our testimony, or rather cf the belief and experience, on which our testimony is founded, is often effected with great rapidity, and in almost all cases by a process, to which we yield very slight attention. Although our own eyes have been the witnesses, we can hardly suspect one, to whom we had ascribed so many good qualities, of committing a crime. We suppose, that we ourselves may be mistaken, and are led, both in conse- quence of our own supposed liability to mistake, and in consequence of our previous convictions of the criminated person's goodness, to give his conduct the most favourable construction. The testimony, therefore, although given under the most solemn circumstances, will sometimes cor- respond to this very favourable mental construction, which has been previously formed, and of which we ourselves are in a measure insensible. Such testimony may be critically examined, and with- out any necessary impeachment of the witness' integrity. If friendship have secretly taken away any thing from the truth, it is the part of all. especially of those, who are professedly the investigators of truth, to see, that it is de- manded back again. The same views will hold, where dislike exists. It has an equal degree of influence in perplexing and prejudicing testimony, with personal friend- ships'. 338 EVIDENCE OP TESTIMONY. §. 281. Influence of personal interest on testimony. The love of gain is a passion, which is greatly nourish- ed by many circumstances in our situation. As riches not only deliver their possessors from many inconvenien- ces, incident to a want of them ; but are supposed to se- cure influence and respect, we find one reason in these effects of it, why this passion has taken so deep root in the minds of men. The love of aggrandizement, and the other modifications of selfism, are not stronger, than the passion for wealth. But it is the tendency and result of interested feelings of every description to present whatever concerns ourselves in the happiest light, and to heap up arguments in our own favour ; and on the other hand, to prevent our bestowing due attention or ordinary justice upon the con- cernments of others. In all cases, therefore, where the private emolument of the person, who gives testimony, is concerned, there are two claims ; that of interest on the one side, and thai of truth on the other. The claims of one's own interest, which are so near his feelings, are carefully examined, and every circumstance, which could have an influence to make him act in accordance with that interest, has its full weight. While, on the other hand, we feel an indescrib- able reluctance to examine claims, which we anticipate will be against ourselves : and ignorance becomes to us, under these circumstances, a source of satisfaction. Persons, who are placed in this situation, ought care- fully to guard against the powerful and sometimes imper- ceptible influence, which is exerted over them ; an influ- ence, which is often pernicious to their understandings, and still more so to virtue. Those, who hear and re- ceive the testimony of persons interested, cannot do jus- tice to the person or subject, which this testimony con- cerns, without making suitable allowance for the misrep- resentations, which are found to arise from this source. §. 282. Of the influence on testimony of a spirit of partisanship. There are parties in religion, parties in politics, par- ties in neighbourhoods and families ; nor indued do we EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 339 tind an entire exemption from them in any situation in life. The feelings of partisanship, which are renewed at every meeting of our opposers, and at the knowledge of every circumstance, calculated to remind us of the existence of a controversy, are exceedingly strong. Hence the preju- dices of parties, which are opinions, modified by these feelings, are tenacious, and conversions from one party to another are few. It is a remark somewhere made by Hume, that the sus- picion of a person's being your enemy is one step towards making him such. Generally speaking, partisans have strong suspicions of those of the opposite denomination, and hence it is natural to expect, that there will be much of an inimical spirit. And every one knows, how difficult is a fair and candid statement of the concerns of those, whom we suspect to be hostile, or approaching to enmity. Under the influence of this bias, those who give testimo- ny may be expected to seize upon circumstances, unfa- vourable to their adversaries, and to throw other circum- stances of a different character into the back ground j and yet profess themselves unconscious of a premeditated design to do injustice. §. 283. Of the memory in connection with testimony. The great majority of persons have sometimes occa- sion to complain of treachery of the memory. Although we confidently rely on what we truly remember, (§. §. 19, 272.) it is not meant to be said, nor is it true, that the memory is not liable to mistakes. Facts, which happened some considerable time previous to the testimony given, may not be perfectly recollected. Hence it become? necessary in listening to a narrator to inquire into his competency in this respect. I. In making this inquiry, we may be directed in parr, by the nature of the subject, to which the testimony re- lates. If the statements, which are made concern word* or a discourse spoken, which are peculiarly evanescent, there is a greater probability than in respect to other statements, that the witness may not perfectly recollect. 340 EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY". II. We may also be aided in regard to this subject by inquiring, Whether the narrator employed any means to assist his memory ? We rightly conclude, that the state- ment of the circumstances of a past event will possess in- creased accuracy, when it appears, that the person has used means with that view, such as writing it down, or fre- quently recalling and repeating it. III. There may also be various incidental circumstan- ces, occurring at the time of hearing the assertions of the witness or narrator, which will help in forming an opinion of his powers of recollection, but which cannot well be specified here. Our opinion of the narrator's memory, from whatever views or circumstances it may arise, is just- ly entitled to modify our confidence in his declarations. §. 284. Influence of the possibility of a confutation on testimony. The distinction between virtue and vice has its founda- tion in the original constitution of things, but men exer- cise the right, depending partly on their own susceptibility of judging, and partly on the information of the Scrip- tures, of saying what things belong to the class of virtue, and what belong to that of vice. Those actions, which are justly accounted vicious, are universally esteemed wor- thy of blame ; while actions, which are truly assigned to the class of virtue, are as generally considered praisewor- thy. The man, therefore, who commits what the community unite in deeming a crime, forfeits his reputation ; he turns upon himself the eye of scorn and derision ; and becomes, more or less, according to the degree of his offence, a 'hissing and a byeword.' Whenever a person utters false testimony, which is reckoned a crime of a very high description, he does it, knowing well the consequences, if a want of veracity should be detected. He will be likely, therefore, to in- form himself well of the nature of the subject, on which he testifies, and of the circumstances, under which the testi- mony is to be given ; and if there be a prospect of the false testimony admitting an easy confutation, he will be EVIDENCE OP TESTIMONY. 341 doubly cautious, how he utters such testimony. This rule then may be laid down ; Whenever such circumstan- ces exist, that false testimony may very probably be con- fronted and confuted, there is a corresponding diminution of the probability, that any such false testimony will be given. §. 285. On the testimony of the dying. It may not be considered irrelevant to the general sub- ject to offer some remarks on the testimony of those, who are thought to be near the period of their departure from the world. Such are generally supposed to utter them- selves with a peculiar regard to the truth. It is supposed, that the nearness of the future world, connected, as it is, with a diminution of the influence of the present, operates upon them with the power of the most efficient motives, and that, under such circumstances, they will not be guilty of falsehood. Great weight is undoubtedly to be given to the asseverations of a dying man, who is in the perfect exercise of his reasoning powers; but then our readiness to give credit to them must be regulated by circumstan- ces. If we make the supposition of the cas3 of a person, condemned to death by the civil laws, the remarks, appli- cable to such a case, will suggest considerations, applica- ble to ordinary cases of death. Let it be supposed, therefore, that a person is condemned to death, that he is about to be executed for some crime, but that he asserts his innocence to the last. (1) The first circumstance to be considered here is, whether eternal things have any real influence upon his mind, and whether he looks upon death, as about to intro- duce him into the presence of God. If this be not the case, if God and the day of judgment have no terrors, his asser- tions are no more to be believed, than the assertions he made before condemnation. It is generally supposed, that, the dying utter truth, in consequence of the operation up- on them of motives drawn from eternity. But this suppo- 43 342. EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. sition, under the circumstances now specified, cannot be admitted. (2) It is to be considered again ; whether the criminal have not some lingering hope of pardon. He knows it to be possible for this pardon to come, although it should be only an hour before the time of execution. To make con- fession, therefore, may be the means of destroying that life, to which he fondly clings ; and hence, if he be guilty, he here finds a strong motive to persevere in his assertions. (3) There is a third circumstance also to be remember- ed. It is sometimes the case, that men, who have been left to commit the greatest crimes, have within them, not- withstanding the commission of such crimes, the remains of truth, honour, and feeling. It does not necessarily fol- low, because a man has committed those criminal acts, for which justice demands, that he should suffer the severest punishment, that he never has moments of contrition, and aspirations after better things. A person may betray his friend and murder him, and yet, while in the possession of this dreadful obliquity of feeling, may retain the most sin- cere and devoted attachment to his wife and children. Without having the least expectation of living, he, never- theless, violently and constantly avers his innocence ; one honourable passion yet secures a residence in his dark soul ; and he fears a confession may bring a disgrace on his family and descendants, which a denial may possibly avert. (4) And then there is the additional circumstance of his own reputation. The love of fame has sometimes been spoken of, as ' the infirmity of noble minds' ; and it can be truly said, that vicious and ignoble minds share in the same species of infirmity. It will be found to have made its way into the hearts of thieves, robbers, assassins. The man, who has been bad enough to commit piracy, may, therefore, have vanity enough to prompt him to at- tempt, just as he is leaving the world, an imposition on the sympathizing feelings of the multitude. And it is a real gratification to his self-love, to think, that, at such a time, EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 343 lie can cheat those into a good opinion of himself, or ca- jole tears from them, whom he would not have hesitated in former days, nor at that very time, if it were possible, to rob or to murder. We ought not, therefore, to be too confident, that the testimony of the dying is to be always depended on. And yet, notwithstanding these exceptions and cautions, it would be pushing our ill opinion of human nature to an unwarrantable length, to suspect, in all or even in a major- ity of cases, the testimony given at the period of death. §. 286. On the credibility of historical accounts. Of the many errours, which doubtless exist in the great- er part of historical narrations, some are owing to the care- lessness, and some to the prejudices of the writer. The great majority of them may perhaps be traced to these two causes, to want of care, and to feelings, influenced by prejudice. These are points, therefore, of great impor- tance to be ascertained. (1) We may be aided in forming an opinion, whether the writer was. or was not sufficiently disposed to be exact, by considering the circumstances, in which he wrote. If the narration at the time of its publication was cal- culated to excite peculiar interest, and if untrue, to cause contradiction, it may reasonably be supposed, that the care and scrupulosity of the writer will be proportioned to his exposure to examination and to rebuke for any erroneous representations. His own interest, (if we were deprived of any other assurance of correctness in his statements,) is in such case a pledge, that he will not make statements without the ability to support them. Hence we may see, how much credit is due to the wri- ters of the New Testament. They stated facts, in respect to which a very great interest was felt; their narrations were undoubtedly very carefully examined, and as the facts were capable of the readiest contradiction or con- firmation, the prevailing disposition to confute them would have availed itself of the first opportunity to doit, if there U44 EVIDENCE OF TEST1MON \ had been any untruth. What writer, for instance, would have hazarded his reputation on the assertion, that five thousand were miraculously supplied by means of a few loaves of bread, had he not been satisfied of the correct- ness of the statement? ' Such a statement could have been at once exposed, and the consequent folly of the writer, if it had not been true. We justly think, that we have good reason to admit the general truth of the narrations of Livy, of Xenophon, and of other Greek and Roman histo- rians; but there are weightier and more imperative rea- sons, why we should yield our assent to the sacred writers. (2) Admitting the historian to have been sufficiently laborious and careful, we are next to take into considera- tion the prejudices, to which he may have been exposed. The character, which, Livy, the Roman Historian, gives of Hannibal, is, that he was a man of great cruelty, perfidious and untrue, without any fear of the gods, without any re- gard to his oath, and without feelings of religion ; (inhu- MANA CRUD2LITAS, PERFIDIA PLUSQ.UAM PUNICA, NIHIL VERI, NIHIL SANCT1, NULLUS DeUM METUS, NULLUM JUSJURANDUM, nulla religio.) But there is reason to believe, that this writer speaks in this instance rather with the feelings of a prejudiced Roman, than with that impartiality and cool- ness, which may justly be expected from historians. If Hannibal had been born a Roman, possessing and exhibi- ting, nevertheless, the same traits of character, should we not probably have received a different account ? Or if the Carthaginians had furnished native historians of their own battles, would there not have been, (and perhaps very justly,) more credit given to their own nation, and fewer evidences of perfidy and deception ? It is a remark of Montesquieu, that it was victory only, which decided whether we ought to say, the Punic, or the Roman faith. Among the men, who have obtained great warlike glory on this side of the Atlantic, hardly any name is more fre- quently mentioned and with greater emotion than Wolfe, the conqueror of Quebec. ' No one can read his midnight expedition up the heights of Abraham, and the bloody EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 343 r;ontiiet of the ensuing day, without the profound ac- knowledgment of the heart to the intrepidity and valour of the English general. How often and how enthusiastically has his glory been celebrated ! But a comparative silence and dishonour rest upon the name of the Marquis de Montcalm, who fell on the same field of battle, the worthy rival of Wolfe. And yet he was no less brave, no less generous, no less devoted to his country and his king. The remark of Montesquieu will apply here ; It was victory, which made the difference. Had the French general conquered, Montcalm would have been the hero, Wolfe would have been blamed for his rashness. Note. Numerous writers have treated of the subjects of this, and the preceding chapter. Among others the following ; Locke on Human Understanding, Bk. IV. ; Buffier, First Truths, Pt. I, chs. xiv — xxiv. ; Butler's Analogy, introduction ; Condillac's Logic, Pt. II, ch. ix. ; Ditton's Discourse concerning the Resurrection, Pt. I. ; Beattie on Truth ; Gambier's Moral Evidence ; Hume and Campbell on Miracles ; Stewart, Elements, 2d vol. chs, i, ii. ; Reid, Essays on the Intellectual Powers, VI. ; Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, (Pt. II. ch. ii. §. 3. Vom Meinen, W T issen. und Glauben.) CHAPTER TWENTY FIFTH DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. §. 287. Definition of propositions and kinds of them- Reasoning, which has already been mentioned as one of the grounds of belief, requires a further considera- tion. But before we can enter with advantage on this subject, it is necessary to go into a brief explanation of propositions, which are the subordinate parts in every process of that kind. — — A proposition has been defined to be a verbal representation of some perception, act, or affection of the mind. — Mr. Locke also speaks of mental propositions, or those states of mind, where two or more ideas are combined together, previous to their being em- bodied and set forth in language. The parts of a proposition are,— (1) The subject, or that, concerning which something is either asserted, or de- nied, commanded, or inquired ; — (2) The predicate, or that, which is asserted, denied, commanded, or inquired concerning the subject ; — (3) The copula, by which the two other parts are connected. In these two propositions. Caesar was brave, Men are fallible, Men and Casar are the subjects ; fallible and brave are the predicates ; are and ivas are the copulas. Propositions have been divided, — (1) Into simple or those, whose subject and predicate are composed of single words, as in this, Benevolence is commendable ; DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 347 (2) Into complex, or those, where the subject and pred- icate consist of a number of words, as in this, Faithfulness in religion is followed by peace of mind ; (3) Into modal, where the copula is qualified by some word or words, representing the manner or possibility of the agreement or discrepancy between the subject and predicate, as in these, Men of learning can exert influence ; Wars may sometimes be just. Propositions, more or less involved, are necessary parts in every process of reasoning. They may be compared to the separate and disjointed blocks of marble, which are destined to enter into tlie formation of some edifice. The completed process of reasoning is the edifice ; the propo- sitions are the materials. f. 26^. Of the process of the mind in all cases of reasoning. Leaving the consideration of its subordinate parts or elements, we are first to consider the general nature of reasoning ; in other words, we are to examine the charac- ter of the mental process. The definition given of rea- soning, it will be remembered, was, That it is the mental process, by which unknown truths are deduced from such as are known, or are taken for granted. Hence there will ordinarily be in every such process a succession of propo- sitions. Indeed they follow each other with so much regularity, that we are apt to consider the arrangement of them as entirely arbitrary. But this is a mistaken suppo- sition. It is true, when a number of ideas are presented nearly at the same time, the mind puts forth a volition, or exercises choice, in selecting one idea in preference to another. But the ideas, from which the choice is made, and without the presence of which it could not be made, are not caused by volition, and, therefore, mere arbitrary creations; but are suggested by the laws of association. As an illustration we will suppose an argument on the justice and expediency of capital punishments in ordinary- cases. The disputant first denies in general terms the right, which social combinations have assumed ©f capi- 848 DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING tally punishing offences of a slight nature. But before considering the cases he has particularly in view, he re- marks on the right of capital punishment for murder; and admits, that the principle of self defence gives such a right. He then takes up the case of stealing, and contends, that we have no right to punish the thief with death, because no such right is given by the laws of nature ; for, before the formation of the civil compact, the institution of prop- erty was not known. He then considers the nature of civil society, and contends, that, in the formation of the social compact, no such extraordinary power, as that of putting to death for stealing or other crimes of similar ag- gravation, could have been implied in that compact, be- cause it never was possessed by those, who formed it ; &c. Here is an argument, made up of a number of proposi- tions, and carried on, as may be supposed, to very consid- erable length. And in this argument, as in all others, ev- ery proposition is, in the first instance, suggested by the laws of association ; it is not at all a matter of arbitrary volition. The disputant first states the inquiry in general terms ; he then considers the particular case of murder ; the crime of theft is next considered : and this is examin- ed, first, in reference to natural law, and, afterwards, in reference to civil law. — And this consecution of proposi- tions takes place precisely the same, as when the sight of a stranger in the crowd suggests the image of an old friend, and the friend suggests the village of his residence, and the village suggests an ancient ruin in its neighbourhood, and the ruin suggests heroes and battles of other days. — It is true, that other propositions may have been suggest- ed at the same time, and the disputant may have had his choice between them, but this was all the direct power, which he possessed ; and even that in strictness of 3peech can hardly be called direct. (See §. 213.) §. 289. Grounds of the selection of propositions. A number of propositions are presented to the mind by the principles of association ; the person, who carries on the process of reasoning, makes Lis selection among DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 349 them. But it is reasonable to inquire, How it happens, that there is such a suitableness or agreement in the prop- ositions, as they are successively adopted into the train of reasoning ? And this seems to be no other than to in- quire into the circumstances, under which the choice of them is made, or the grounds of the selection. Let itbe considered, then, that in all arguments, wheth- er moral or demonstrative, there is some general subject, on which the evidence is made to bear ; there is some point in particular to be examined. In reference to these general outlines, we have a prevailing and permanent de- sire. This desire is not only a great help in giving quick- ness and strength to the laws of association; but exer- cises also a very considerable indirect influence in giv- ing an appropriate character to the thoughts, which are suggested by those laws. Hence the great body of the propositions, which are at such times brought up, will be found to have a greater or less reference to the general subject. These are all very rapidly compared by the mind with those outlines, in regard to which its feelings of de- sire are exercised, or with what we usually term the point to be proved. — Here the mind, in the exercise of that sus- ceptibility of feelings of relation, which we have already seen it to possess, immediately discovers the suitableness or want of suitableness, the agreement or want of agree- ment of the propositions presented to it, to ihe general sub- ject. This perception of suitableness, which is one of those relative feelings, of which the mind is from its very nature held to be susceptible, exists as an ultimate fact in our mental constitution. All, that can profitably be said in relation to it, is the mere statement of the fact, and of the circumstances, under which it is found to exist. — Those propositions, which are judged by the mind, in the exercise of that capacity which its Creator has given it, to be agree- able to the general subject or point to be-proved, are per- mitted by it to enter in, as continuous parts of the argu- ment. And in this way a series of propositions rises up, all having reference to one ultimate purpose, regular, ap- propriate, and in their issue laying the foundation of the 44 330 DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. different degrees of assent. This explanation will apply- not only to the supposed argument in the last section, which is an instance of moral reasoning, but will hold good es- sentially of all other instances of whatever kind. The difference in the various kinds of reasoning consists less in the mental process, than in the nature of the subjects compared together, and in the conditions attending them. §. 290. Of the subjects of demonstrative reasoning. In order to have a full view of this subject, it is necessary to examine it, under the two prominent heads of Moral and Demonstrative. Demonstrative reasoning differs from any other species of reasoning in the subjects, about which it is employed. The subjects are abstract ideas, and the necessary relations among them. Those ideas or thoughts are called abstract, which are representative of such qual- ities and properties in objects as can be distinctly exam- ined by the mind separate from other qualities and prop- erties, with which they are commonly united. And there may be reckoned, as coming within this class of subjects, the properties of numbers and of geometrical figures ; also extension, duration, weight, velocity, forces, &c, so far as they are susceptible of being accurately expressed by numbers, or other mathematical signs. But the subjects of moral reasoning, upon which we are to remark hereaf- ter more particularly, are matters of fact, including their connection with other facts, whether constant or variable, and all attendant circumstances. That the exterior an- gle of a triangle is equal to both the interior and opposite angles, is a truth, which comes within the province of dem- onstration. That Homer was the author of the Iliad, that Xerxes invaded Greece, &c. are inquiries, belonging to moral reasoning. §. 291. Use of definitions and axioms in demonstrative reasoning-. In every process of reasoning there must be at the commencement of it something to be proved ; there must also be some things either known, or taken for granted as such, with which the comparison of the propositions be- DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 8&t gins. The preliminary truths in demonstrative reasoning- are involved in such definitions as are found in all mathe- matical treatises. It is impossible to give a demonstration of the properties of a circle, parabola, ellipse, or other mathematical figure, without first having given a definition of them. Definitions, therefore, are the facts assum- ed, the first principled in demonstrative reasoning, from which by means of the subsequent steps the conclusion is derived/ We find something entirely similar in respect to subjects, which admit of the application of a different form of reasoning. Thus in Natural Philosophy, the gen- eral facts in relation to the gravity and elasticity of the air may be considered as first principles. From these princi pies in Physics are deduced, as consequences, the sus- pension of the mercury in the barometer, and its fall, when carried up to an eminence. We must not forget here the use of axioms in the dem- onstrations of mathematics. Axioms are certain self-evi- dent propositions, or propositions, the truth of which is dis- covered by intuition, such as the following ; " Things, equal to the same, are equal to one another;" "From equals take away equals, and equals remain." We gen- erally find a number of them prefixed to treatises of geom- etry ; and it has been a mistaken supposition, which has long prevailed, that they are at the foundation of geomet- rical, and of all demonstrative reasoning. But axioms, ta- ken by themselves, lead to no conclusions. With their assistance alone, it cannot be denied, that the truth, invol- ved in propositions susceptible of demonstration, would have been beyond our reach. But axioms are by no means without their use, although their nature may have been misunderstood. They are properly and originally intuitive perceptions of the truth, and whether they be expressed in words, as we generally find them, or not, is of but little consequence, except as a matter of convenience to beginners, and in giving instruc- tion. But those intuitive perceptions, which are always implied in them, are essential helps; and if by their aid aloiie we should be unable to complete a demonstration* 352 DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. we should be equally unable without them. We begin with definitions ; we compare together successively a num- ber of propositions ; and these intuitive perceptions of their agreement or disagreement, to which, when express- ed in words, we give the name of axioms, attend us at every step. §. 292. The opposite^ of demonstrative reasonings absurd. In demonstrations we consider only one side of a ques- tion ; it is not necessary to do any thing more than this. The first principles in the reasoning are given ; they are not only supposed to be certain, but they are assumed as such ; these are followed by a number of propositions in succession, all of which are compared together ; if the conclusion be a demonstrative one, then there has been a clear perception of certainty at every step in the train. Whatever may be urged against an argument thus con- ducted is of no consequence ; the opposite of it will al- ways imply some fallacy. Thus, the proposition, that the three angles of a triangle are not equal to two right angles, and other propositions, which are the opposite of what has been demonstrated, will always be found to be false, and also to involve an absurdity ; that is, are inconsistent with, and contradictory to themselves. Nothing more can be wanted to confirm this, than a careful examination of such propositions. §. 203. Demonstrative reasonings do not admit of different degrees of belief. When our thoughts are employed upon subjects, which come within the province of moral reasoning, we yield dif- ferent degrees of assent ; we form opinions more or less probable. It is different in demonstrations ; the assent, which we yield, is at all times of the highest kind, and is never susceptible of being regarded, as more or less. In short, all demonstrations are certain. But a question first arises, What is certainty? (See y 267.) And again, What in particular do we understand by that certainty, which is ascribed to the conclusions, to 'vhich we are con- dueled in any process of demonstrative reasoning ? DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 353 §. 294. Of the nat >re of demonstrative certainty. In proceeding to answer this inquiry, it is again to be observed, that, in demonstrative reasonings, we always be- gin with certain first principles or truths, either known, or tiiken fur granted ; and these hold the first place, or are the foundation of that series of propositions, over which the mind successively passes, until it rests in the conclu- sion. In mathematics the first principles, of which we here speak, are the definitions. — We begin, therefore, with what is acknowledged by all to be true or certain. At every step there is an intuitive perception of the agreement or disagreement of the propositions, which are compared together. Consequently, however far we may advance in the comparison of them, there is no possibility of falling short of that degree of assent, with which, it is acknowl- edged, that the series commenced. So that demonstrative certainty may be judged to amount to this ; — Whenever we arrive at the last step or the conclusion of a series of propositions, the mind in effect intuitively perceives the relation, whether it be the agreement or disagreement, co- incidence or want of coincidence, between the last step or the conclusion, and the conditions involved in the pro- positions at the commencement of the series ; and, there- fore, demonstrative certainty is virtually the same as the certainty of intuition. Although it arises on a different occasion, and is, therefore, entitled to a separate consid- eration, there is no difference in the degree of the belief. §. 295. Of the use of diagrams in demonstrations. Mr. Locke has advanced the opinion, that moral sub- jects are no less susceptible of demonstration, than math- ematical. However this may be, we are certainly more frequently required to practice this species of reasoning in the mathematics, than any where else ; and in conducting the process, nothing is more common, than to make use of various kinds of figures or diagrams. The proper use of diagrams, of a square, circle, triangle, or other figure, which we delineate before us, is to assist the mind in keep- ing its ideas distinot. and to help in comparing them to 354 DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. getber with readiness and correctness. They are a sort of auxiliaries, brought into the help of our intellectual infir- mities, but are not absolutely necessary ; since demonstra- tive reasoning, wherever it may be found, resembles any other kind of reasoning in this most important respect, viz. in being a comparison of our ideas. In proof that artifi- cial diagrams are only auxiliaries, and are not essentially necessary in demonstrations, it may be remarked, that they are necessarily all of them imperfect, owing to the imper- fection of our senses. Our reasonings, therefore, and our conclusions will not apply to the figures before us, but merely to an imagined perfect figure. And a verbal state- ment of the properties of this imagined perfect figure is what we understand by a definition, the use of which in this kind of reasoning in particular has already been men- tioned. §. 296. Of signs in general as connected with reasoning. The statements in the last section will appear the less- exceptionable, when it is recollected, that in all cases reas- oning is purely a mental process. From beginning to end, it is a succession of feelings. Neither mathematical signs, nor words constitute the process, but are only its atten- dants and auxiliaries. We can reason without diagrams or other signs employed in mathematics, the same as an infant reasons, before it has learnt artificial language. When the infant has once put his finger in the fire, he avoids the repetition of the experiment, reasoning in this way, that there is a resemblance between one flame and another, and that what has once caused him pain, will be likely under the same circumstances to cause the same sensation. When the infant sees before him some glitter- ing toy, he reaches his hand towards it, and is evidently induced to do so by a thought of this kind, that the acqui- sition of the object will soon follow the effort of the hand, as it has a similar effort previously made. Here is reas- oning without words ; it is purely internal ; nevertheless no one will presume to say, that words are not great helps in reasoning:. And thus - DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. ,155 though diagrams, and numerical and algebraic signs are assistances, they do not constitute the process ; nor can it he even said, that they are indispensably essential to it. i;. 297. Of the influence of demonstrative reasoning on the mental character. A considerable skill in demonstrative reasoning is on a number of accounts desirable, although it cannot be de- nied, that very frequent practice and great readiness in it is not always favourable ; so that it seems proper briefly to mention the effects, both propitious and unpropitious, on the mental character. (1) A frequency of practice in demonstrative reasoning greatly aids in giving one a ready command of his attention. — In this species of rea- soning, the propositions follow each other in such regular order and so closely, and so great is the importance of perceiving the agreement or disagreement of each suc- ceeding one with that, which goes before ; that a careless, unfixed, and dissipated state of the mind seems to be ut- terly inconsistent with carrying on such a process with any sort of success to the conclusion. As, therefore, the strictest attention is here so highly necessary, the more a person subjects himself to this discipline, the more ready and efficient will be the particular application of the mind, to which we give that name. And we often find distinguished individuals in political life and in the prac- tice of the law, who are desirous of holding their mental powers in the most prompt arid sytematic obedience, im- posing on themselves exercises in geometry and algebra for this purpose. (2) This mode of reasoning accustoms one to care and discrimination in the examination of subjects. In all discussions, where the object is to find out the truth, it is necessary to take asunder all the parts, having relation to the general subject, and bestow upon them a share of our consideration. And in general we find no people more disposed to do this than mathematicians; they are not. fond of reasoning, as Mr. Locke expresses it, in the lump, but are for going into particulars, for allowing every thing 35G DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. its due weight and nothing more, and for resolutely throw- ing out of the estimate all propositions, which are not di- rectly and truly to the point. — It must further be said, as a general remark closely connected with what has just been observed, that those departments of science, which require demonstrative reasoning, are promotive of a char- acteristic of great value, — a love of the truth. (3) Demonstrative reasoning gives to the mind a great- er grasp or comprehension. This result, it is true, will not be experienced in the case of those, who have merely exercised themselves in the study of a few select demon- strations ; it implies a familiarity of the mind with long and complicated trains of deductions. A thorough math- ematician, who has made it a business to exercise himself in this method of reasoning, can hardly have been other- wise than sensible of that intellectual comprehensionj or length and breadth of survey, which we have in view ; since one demonstration is often connected with an< ther, much in the same way as the subordinate parts of separate demonstrations are connected with each other ; and he, therefore, finds it necessary, if he would go on with satis- faction and pleasure, to gather up and retain, in the grasp of his mind, all the general and subordinate propositions of a long treatise. But, on the other hand, there are some results of a very great attention to sciences, which require the exclu- sive application of demonstrative reasoning, of a less fa- vourable kind. (1) It has been thought, that it has a tendency to ren- der the mind mechanical ; That is, while it increases its ability of acting in a given way, it diminishes the power of invention, and prevents its striking out into a new path, different from that, which it has been in the habit of going over. (2) It nourishes a spirit of scepticism ; or per- haps we may say, diminishes the power of belief. The ex- clusive mathematician has been accustomed to yield his assent to demonstration only ; and it is but natural, that he should find some difficulty in being satisfied with anj i DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 357 lower degree of evidence. This disposition to doubt will be, in some measure, experienced, even in the transition from pure to mixed mathematics ; at least there will be an absence of that full and delightful satisfaction, which had hitherto been enjoyed. Still more will it be felt, when*he is called upon to judge of events, and duties, and actions of common life, which do not admit of the application of demonstration. la a word, it has been supposed to un- fit the mind ifl a considerable degree for accurate discrim- inations as t! or pauses in pathless woods to gaze on the flowing fea- tures of the rose, does he not at once feel within him a spontaneous movement of delight ? Is not the object, which is directly before him, in itself a source of this feel- ing ? Although he may have a superadded pleasure from some other source, as we shall have occasion to see ; still, considering the subject particularly in reference to the object before him, is not this the true philosophy? He sees, and he feels ; he beholds, and he admires. It re- sults, therefore, from the common experience of mankind, that objects, which are circular, or approach that form, or exhibit an irregular, but serpentine outline, have a de- gree of beauty. For similar reasons, we may be led to suppose, that a square figure has some original beauty, or is a cause of emotions of beauty of itself, although less so than the cir- cle. What the ground of the difference is, it is some- what difficult to say, unless it be, that a circle, being more simple, makes a more direct and entire impression ; where- as the attention is divided among the sides and angles of a square. §. 327. Of the original beauty of colours. We experience what may be termed an original emo- tion, which is pleasing, in beholding colours. We are able to allude to abundant sources in proof of this, with- out, however, entering into a full exposition of them. (1) The pleasure, resulting from beholding the colour of objects merely, may be observed in very early life. Ac- cordingly the infant soon directs its eyes towards the light, that breaks in from the window. The child rushes with extacy from flower to flower, comparing their brilliancy. He looks upward to the tree, that is most profusely loaded with blossom, or that is burdened with fruit of the deep- est red and yellow. Unwearied, he pursues the butterfly, attracted by the brightness of its wings^ (2) It is found to be the same also universally among Savages. Hence they decorate their bodies by painting ; they value whatever dress they may have, in proportion to 302 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. the gaudiness of its colours; they weave rich and varie- gated plumes into their hair. And the same feeling, which has been so often noticed in Savages, may be observed al- so, though in a less degree, among the uneducated class- es in civilized communities. In persons of refinement, the original tendency to receive pleasing emotions from the contemplation of colours seems to have, in a measure, lost its power, in consequence of the developement ot tendencies to receive pleasure from other causes. (3) We have another proof in persons, who have been blind from birth, but in after life have been restored by couching, or in some other way. " I have couched, (says Wardrop,* speaking of James Mitchell,) one of his eyes successfully ; and he is much amused with the visible world, though he mistrusts information, gained by that avenue. One day I got him a new and gaudy suit of clothes, which delighted him beyond description. It was the most interesting scene of sensual gratification I ever beheld." But this person, it appears, had some faint notions oi light and colours, previous to the operation, by which his powers of vision were more fully restored. And the facts, stated in connection with his exercise of this imperfect vision, are equally decisive in favour of the doctrine under consideration. "At the time of life when this boy began to walk, he seemed to be attracted by bright and dazzling colours ; and though every thing, connected with his history, ap- pears to prove, that he derived little information from the organ, yet he received from it much sensual gratification, lie used to hold between his eye and luminous objects such bodies, as he found to increase by their interposition the quantity of light; and it was one of his chief amuse- ments to concentrate the sun's rays by means of pieces of glass, transparent pebbles, or similar substances, which he held between his eye and the light, and turned about in larious directions. These too he would often break with ' Ar quoted by Stewart in his Account oi Mitchell. Sec EMOTIONS UI' BEAUTY. his team and aive them that form, which seemed to please him most. There were other modes, by which he wa- in the habit of gratifying this fondness for light. He would retire to any out-house or to any room within his reach, shut the windows and doors, and remain there for some considerable time, with his eyes fixed on some small hole or chink, which admitted the sun's rays, eagerly catching them, lie would also, during the winter nights, often re- tire to a dark corner of the room, and kindle a light for his amusement. On these occasions, as well as in the gratification of his other senses, his countenance and gestures displayed a most interesting avidity and curiosity." The conclusion, which we deduce from these sources of proof, is, that colours are fitted, from our very constitu- tion, to produce within us emotions of beauty. . • I »:" sounds considered as a source of beauty. AVe next inquire into the application of these principles in respect to sounds. And here also we have reason to believe, that they hold good ; that certain sounds are pleasing of themselves ; and are hence, agreeably to view- already expressed, termed beautiful. Examine, for in- stance, musical sounds. It is true, that in different na- tions, we find different casts or styles of music ; but, not- withstanding this, certain successions of sounds, viz. those, which have certain mathematical proportions in their times of vibration, are alone pleasing. As, therefore, not all unds are beautiful, but only those of a particu- lar character, and these are every where found to excite emotions of beauty without exception ; the presumption is that they possess this power originally ; they please us, because the mind is so formed, that it cannot be otherwise It is possible, that the emotion may be small, but it un- doubtedly has an existence in some degree, and can b< inted tor in no oilier way. »f motion as an element of beauty. Motion !;r.s sometimes been reckoned as an elem 1 of motion. The motion of a 394 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. winding river pleases; and this, not only because the river is serpentine, but because it is never at rest. We are delight- ed with the motion of a ship, as it cleaves the sea under full sail. We look on, and are pleased without being able to control our feelings, or to tell, why they exist. With what happy enthusiasm we behold the foaming cascade, as it breaks cut from the summit of the mountain, and dashes downward to its base ! With what pleasing satisfaction, we gaze upon a column of smoke, ascending from a cottage in a wood ! It may be said, we are aware, that the pleasure arising from beholding the as- cending smoke of the cottage, is caused by the favourite suggestions, which are connected with it, of rural seclu- sion, peace, and abundance. But there is much reason to believe, that the feeling would be to some extent the same, if it were known to ascend from the uncomfortable wig- wam of the Savage, or the fires of a wandering horde of gypsies. But there are some kinds of motion, for instance, when- ever it is accelerated beyond a certain degree of swiftness, which cannot be said to be beautiful, but which, on the contrary, cause painful feelings. The same may be said of sounds. He, who walks abroad in the forest, is charm- ed with the melody of birds. But what melody would there be in the hissing of a concourse of serpents? §. 330. Of the beauty of certain natural signs. There are certain signs, expressive of feelings and of character, with which nature has furnished us. (See<^. §. 144, 5.) It is true, they are not all beautiful ; for instance, the frown, which is indicative of reproof and of the angry passions. This, therefore, causes pain. We have already had occasion to see, that these signs, whether pleasing or the opposite, may possess an appropriate meaning, and may excite emotions of themselves, and independently of ex- perience. One circumstance in favor of this view is, that natural signs are interpreted at a very early period. A smiling countenance is a pleasing, (that is, a beautiful ob- ject.) not only to persons grown up, but to very young EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 395 children. In ordinary circumstances, we never behold it, whether young or old, without a feeling of satisfaction. We conclude, therefore, that a smiling countenance, although it is only one of the many forms or arrangements of mat- ter, is originally beautiful. And there is this sec- ond consideration, that natural signs of whatever charact- er affect us more than the mere declaration of those feel- ings, for which they are conceived to stand. A person tells us, for example, he is happy ; and having no evidence of it, but his mere word, we are only pleased. But when his countenance is illuminated with smiles, we then re- joice with him. Another tells us, he is wretched, and we are cast down. But we see the flowing of tears, and then we are more profoundly sorrowful. And thus we are led to see here also, how our Creator has given a voice to the mere forms of matter, which speaks to the soul. §. 331. Of the beaufy of moral actions. The views, which have been taken, will be found to hold good of those pleasurable emotions, which arise, whenever we contemplate moral actions of a praisewor- thy kind. If those theories, which deny an original suscep- tibility of moral emotions, and make all our moral judg- ments the result of experience and some sort of calcula- tion, were true ; then we might expect to find the percep- tion of moral beauty perfect in mature age, but hardly hav- ing an existence in youth and childhood. But this is not the fact. The child, that successively exults and weeps at the nar- rations of the ballad, has something within him, which most decisively pronounces upon the character of those actions, which he is thus made acquainted with. He sympathizes with those, who are in suffering ; he admires the virtuous ; he abhors the unprincipled and the villain. His moral susceptibility, to say the least, is equally quick with that of persons grown up in all cases, except in those instances, where he is not so well able, as persons of ma- ture minds, to see the full consequences of actions. 396 EMOTION S OF B E A U T \ . How kind then are the provisions of Nature, winch makes us to see beauty and deformity not only in intel- lect, but in material forms ! This corresponds with our condition ; we are not all mind ; but part from heaven and part from earth, a mixture and kneading together of spirit and clay. And it was no more than might well be expect- ed, that God should give us feelings of pleasure and of disgust, of joy and of sorrow from both sources ; not only from the exhibitions of mind, but also from the unclothed and original forms of matter. §. 382. Of a distinct sense or faculty of beauty. From the views, which have been taken, it might be conjectured, that we adopt the opinion of those, who have held, that there is a distinct sense or faculty of beauty. There have been some writers, among whom Mr. Alison has included Hogarth and Winkelman, who have suppo- sed, that all emotions of beauty and sublimity are to be referred to a distinct sense ; and, consequently, that all qualities, which are in general antecedent to those emo- tions, are the established and appropriate objects of that sense. By means of this sense or faculty of beauty, which seems to have been regarded as entirely analogous to the external senses of sight and feeling, the mind expe- riences the emotion of beauty constantly, or almost con- stantly, whenever a particular object is present. That is, having this supposed sense, we can no more be without the appropriate emotion, whenever the beautiful object is presented, than we can be without sight or feeling, when our eyes are open to behold objects, or when our hands are impressed upon them. And, moreover, the beauty, which is thus discovered, has, according to this system, a precise and definite character, concerning which there cannot ordinarily be any possible mistake. There are some parts, undoubtedly, of this doctrine of emotions of beauty, to which it is, by no means, necessary to object. Its advocates hold, with good reason, that cer- tain objects give us pleasure of themselves ; and also that the emotions arise in the mind at once, whenever the ob- EMOTION'S OF BEAUTY. 397 jects are presented to it, and, therefore, in some degree the same, as when vision follows the opening of the eyelids. But here, it cannot be denied, that the analogy between the susceptibility of emotions of beauty, and the external senses, ceases. The opinion, that we have a distinct sense or faculty of beauty, would give to its appropriate emotions a char- acter more exact and particular, than is justified by what is known to be the fact ; there would in this case be no more difference of opinion concerning the beauty and de- formity of objects, than concerning their sensible qualities, their taste, sound, or colour. If this doctrine, taken in its full extent, were true, the peasant, who can tell, wheth- er the taste of the apple be sweet or sour, and whether the colour of the clouds of heaven be bright or dark, can sit in judgment on the beauty of the works of nature and art, no less than persons of the most critical taste. While, therefore, we contend, that there is in the mind an original susceptibility of emotions of beauty, it is to be regarded as something quite different in its nature from the external senses ; and these emotions, therefore, unlike our sensations, will differ, in kind and degree, with a va- riety of circumstances. §. 333. Objects may become beautiful by association merely. While some of the form?, of which matter is suscepti- ble, are pleasing of themselves and originally, while we are unable to behold bright colours, and to listen to cer- tain sounds, and to gaze upon particular expressions of the countenance, and to behold praiseworthy actions, without emotions, in a greater or less degree, delightful ; it must be admitted, that, in the course of our experience, we find a variety of objects, that seem, as they are presented to us, to be unattended with any emotion ; objects, that are perfectly indifferent. And yet these objects, howev- er wanting in beauty to the great mass of men, are found to be invested, in the minds of some, with a charm, allow- edly not their own. These objects, which previously excited no feelings of •3') 398 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. beauty, may become beautiful to us in consequence of the associations, which we attach to them. That is to say, when the objects are beheld, certain former pleasing feel- ings, peculiar to ourselves, are recalled. The lustre of a spring morning, the radiance of a sum- mer evening may of themselves excite in us a pleasing emotion ; but, as our busy imagination, taking advantage of the images of delight, which are before us, is ever at work and constantly forming new images, there is, in com- bination vvith the original emotion of beauty, a superadded delight. And if in these instances, only a part of the beauty is to be ascribed to association, there are some others, where the whole is to be considered, as derived from that source. Numerous instances can be given of the power of as- sociation, not only in heightening the actual charms of objects, but in spreading a sort of delegated lustre around those, that were entirely uninteresting before. Why does yon decaying house appear beautiful to me, which is in- different to another ? Why are the desolate fields around it clothed with delight, while others see in them nothing, that is pleasant ? It is, because that house formerly de- tained me, as oneof its inmates, at its fireside, and those fields were the scenes of many youthful sports. When I now behold them, after so long a time, the joyous emo- tions, which the remembrances of my early days call up within me, are, by the power of association, thrown around the objects, which are the cause of the remem- brances. §. 334. Further illustrations of associated feelings. He, who travels through a well-cultivated country town, cannot but be pleased vvith the various objects, which he beholds ; the neat and comfortable dwellings ; the meadows, that are peopled with flocks, and with herds of cattle ; the fields of grain, intermingled with reaches of thick and dark forest. The whole scene is a beautiful one ; the emotion we suppose to be partly original ; a per- son, on being restored to sight by couching for the catar- ' EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. &>y ■act, and having had no opportunity to form associations with it. would witness it, lor the first time, with delight. But a greater part of the pleasure is owing to the associ- ated feelings, which arise, on beholding such a scene ; these dwellings are the abode of man ; these fields are the place of his labours, and amply reward him for his toil ; here are contentment, the interchange of heartfelt joys, and " an- cient truth." Those, who have travelled over places, that have been signalized by memorable events, will not suspect us of at- tributing too great a share of our emotions to association. It is true, that in a country so new as America, we are un- able to point so frequently, as an European might do, to places, that have witnessed the gallantry and patriotism of ancient times. But there are some such consecrated spots. With whatever emotions the traveller may pass up the banks of the Hudson, he cannot but find his feel ings much more deeply arrested at Stillwater and at Sar- atoga, the scenes of the memorable battles of Sept. 19, and Oct. 7, 1777, and of the surrender of Burgoyne, than at any other place. It was there, that brave men died ; it was there, that an infant people threw defiance at a power- ful enemy, and gave sanguinary proof of their determina- tion to be free. A thousand recollections have gathered upon such places, and the heart overflows with feeling at beholding them. The powerful feeling, which here exists, whether we call it an emotion of beauty, or sublimity, or give it a name, expressive of some intermediate grade, is essentially the same, with that, which is caused in the bosom of the trav- eller, when he looks for the first time upon the hills of the city of Rome. There are other cities of greater extent, and washed by nobler rivers, than the one, which is before him; but upon no others has he ever gazed with such in- tensity of feeling. He beholds what was once the mistress of the world ; he looks upon the ancient dwelling place of Brutus, of Cicero, and of the Caesars. The imagination is at once peopled with whatever was noble in the character, and great in the achievements of that extraordinary nation ; 400 ' EMOTIONS OF BEAtJT$ and there is a strength, a fulness of emotion, which, with- out these stirring remembrances, would be very sensibly diminished. §. 335. Instances of national associations'. The influence of association in rousing up, and in giv- ing strength to particular classes of emotions, may be stri- kingly seen in some national instances. Every country has its favourite tunes. These excite a much stronger feel- ing in the native inhabitants, than in strangers. The ef- fect on the Swiss soldiers of the Banz des Vetches, their na- tional air, whenever they have happened to hear it in foreign lands, has often been mentioned. So great was this effect, that it was found necessary in France, to forbid its being played in the Swiss corps in the employment of the French government. The powerful effect of this song cannot be supposed to be owing to any peculiar merits in the composition ; but to the pleasing recollections, which it ever vividly brings up in the minds of the Swiss, of mountain life, of freedom, and domestic pleasures. The English have a popular tune, called Belleisle March. Its popularity is said to have been owing to the circumstance, that it was played when the English army marched into Belleisle, and to its consequent association with remembrances of war and of conquest. And it will be found true of all national airs, that they have a charm for the natives of the country, in consequence of the recol- lections connected with them, which they do not possess for the inhabitants of other countries. We have abundant illustrations of the same fact in re- spect to colours. The purple colour has acquired an ex- pression or character of dignity, in consequence of having been the common colour of the dress of kings ; among the Chinese, however, yellow is the most dignified colour, and evidently for no other reason, than because yellow is that, which is allotted to the royal family. In many countries, black is expressive of gravity, and is used particularly in seasons of distress and mourning ; and white is a cheerful colour. But among the Chinese white is gloomy, because EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 4U1 it is the dress of mourners; and in Spain and among the Venetians black has a cheerful expression, in consequence of being worn by the great. So that the remark of Sir Joshua Reynolds has some foundation, that custom makes, in a certain sense, white black, and black white. " It is cu*tom alone, (says he,) determines our preference of the colour of the Europeans to that of the Ethiopians, and they, for the same reason, prefer their own colour to ours. I suppose no body will doubt, if one of their pain- ters were to paint the goddess of beauty, but that he would represent her black, with thick lips, flat nose, and woolly hair; and it seems to me, he would act very unnaturally, if he did not." (The Idler, No. 82.) §. 336. Of utility as an element of beauty. Some theorists, among others Mr. Hume, have imagin- ed, that they were able to discover the origin or founda- tion of all emotions of beauty in the perception of utility; understanding by the term a fitness or adaptation of the beautiful objects to some important purpose. We certain- ly contemplate this quality with a degree of complacency and approbation. Many objects, when their use or adap- tation to some purpose became known to us, have at once been clothed with an interest, which they did not before possess. A share, therefore, of our emotions of beauty may be traced to this source. But when the perception of utility or fitness is proposed, as the ground and origin of all of them, the doctrine evidently cannot be sustained. If this principle hold universally, it is considered a fair in- ference from it by Mr. Burke, that the wedge-like snout of the swine, with its tough cartilage at the end, and the gen- eral make of its head, so well adapted to digging and root- ing, are extremely beautiful ; and that hedge-hogs and porcupines, which are so admirably secured against all assaults by their prickly hides, can justly be considered creatures of no small elegance. On the theory, therefore, which proposes the percep- tion of utility, as the true ground of all emotions of beauty, it is enough for us to say. that it goes too far. It does, in- 4.Q2 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. deed, in connection with the laws of association, suggest a happy explanation of many pleasing emotions, but, by no means, of all. The inferences of Burke in opposition to it are not without foundation. §. 337. Of proportion as a cause or eiement of beauty. There are some, who imagine, they find the source of beauty in a certain symmetry and determinate proportion of parts. This idea has been particularly advocated by artists, who seem to have supposed, that the elements of beauty might not only be discovered, but even measured in the great models of statuary and painting. Mr. Burke has examined this opinion also ; directing his inquiries to vegetables, the inferior animals, and man. He has shown, that, in all cases, there are no certain measures, on which the beautiful can justly be said to depend. For instance, in the vegetable creation we find nothing more beautiful than flowers, but there is a very great va- riety in their shape, and in the disposition of the parts, which pertain to them. In the rose the stalk is slender, but the flower is large. The flower or blossom of the ap- ple, on the other hand, is very small, but the tree large. Now if one of these be in proportion, the other wants it; and yet, by general consent, both the rose and the apple- blossom possess beauty, and the bush of the one and the tree of the other allowedly present a very engaging ap- pearance. If again we inquire in respect to man, and in respect to the inferior animal creation, we are brought to the same result, viz. that beauty does not depend upon a fixed relative size of the parts, that is, upon proportion. Those, who deem it important to exarrine every thing, that has been advanced on the subject; and find time for such minuteness of inquiry, may meet with various other theories of more or less value, and probably none of them, however unphilosophical, without some worth. §. 338. Differences of original susceptibility of this enitfion. Supposing it to be true, that we possess an original susceptibility of emotions of beauty, independently of cus- EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 40-i torn and of considerations of utility and proportion, it seems however, to be the fact, that this susceptibility is found existing in different degrees in different persons. Let the same beautiful objects be presented to two persons, and one will be found to be not only affected, but ravished, as it were, with feelings of beauty ; while the other will have the same kind of emotions, but in a very diminished degree. A great degree of susceptibility of emotions of beauty is usually termed sensibility. The differences of men in this respect may justly be thought, where we cannot account for it by any thing in their education or mental culture, to be constitutional. Nor is it more strange, that men should be differently affec- ted by the same beatiful objects in consequence of some difference of constitution, than that they should constitu- tionally have different passions, that one should be choler- ic, another of a peaceable turn, that one should be mild and yielding, another inflexible. §. 339. Emotions of beauty compared with others. We stop here to notice one of the objections, which may occur, to the views, which have been given on the subject of beauty. Supposing, as we do, that the mind has originally certain tendencies to emotions of beauty, we readily admit the power of various circumstances in modify- ing, and in some cases, of overcoming such original tenden- cies. Nor in point of fact, can it be denied, that the char- acter of our feelings of beauty frequently changes ; that is, what is regarded by us, as beautiful at one time, is not at another ; what is beautiful in the eyes of one age or of one nation, loses its lustre in the view of another. The objection is, that such changes of feeling in regard to the beautiful are inconsistent with an original suscep- tibility of such emotions. The answer to be given is, that we experience analo- gous variations in all our emotions of whatever kind, a? \vell as those of beauty. Take, for instance, that feeling by which we are led to regard any thing as true cr false. Jt will surely be admitted, that there is in the mind an 404 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. original tendency to assent to certain proposition?, rather than others of an opposite kind. It cannot be supposed, that the characteristic of mind, which leads us to regard one thing as true, and another as false, is something, which is wholly superinduced, — the result merely of accidental circumstances. But that, which is felt by us to be true to-day, may be felt by us to be false tomorrow ; because we have then new facts before the mind, and new sources of evidence are disclosed. It is also well known, that our estimates of subjects, in a moral point of view, continually alter. Those objects, which appeared just, and worthy, and de- sirable in youth, have a different appearance in manhood, and again have a different aspect in old age. This is not because the mind alters, or the moral susceptibility ; but because objects are seen by us under different lights. Changes of opinion, similar to what may be noticed in in- dividuals, may also be clearly noticed in the moral, politi- cal, and religious history of different ages and nations. Again, we find the same tendency to perpetual fluctu- ations in the feelings of cheerfulness and melancholy, of mere pleasure and pain, of desire and aversion, as well as of beauty, and grandeur, and sublimity. The reason is, we take different views of objects. And this is much the same as to say, that truly different objects are presented to the mind from what we had contemplated before ; which is a cause amply sufficient for the changes we are remarking upon. $. 340. Summary of views in regard to the beautiful. As the subject of emotions of beauty is one of no small difficulty, it may be of advantage to give here a brief sum- mary of some of the prominent views in respect to it. (1) Of emotions of beauty it is difficult to give a defi- nition, but we notice in them two marks or characteris- tics ;— They imply 1st, a degree of pleasure, and 2dly, are always referred by us to the external object. (2) No objects are beautiful of themselves, and inde- pendently of the soul, which contemplates them ; but ap- pear to have a degree of splendour or beauty in con-c- EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 4Q9 quence of our having associated with them, constantly, and from a very early period, the feelings, which exist in our own minds. (3) The feeling, which we term an emotion of beauty, is not limited to natural scenery, but may be caused by works of art, by creations of the imagination, by the sever- est etforts of reasoning, and by moral actions. On all these the mind may reflect back the lustre of its own emo- tions, and make them beam out with a sort of splendour, which is not originally in the objects ; and this is done in the same manner, as when we diffuse our sensations of colour, which are merely affections of the mind, over the objects, which we call red, white, yellow, &.c. (4) There is in the mind an original susceptibility of emotions in general, and of those of beauty in particular ; and not only this, some objects are found, in the constitu- tion of things, to be followed by these feelings of beauty, while others are not; and such objects are spoken of as being originally beautiful. That is, when the object is presented to the mind, it is of itself followed by emotions of beauty, without being aided by the influence of accessory and contingent circumstances. (5) Witnout pretending to certainty in fixing upon those objects, to which, what is termed original or prima- ry beauty may be ascribed, there appears to be no small reason, in attributing it to certain forms, to sounds of a particular character, to bright colours, to certain expres- sions of the countenance, and to praiseworthy actions. The whole amount, however, of the feeling of beauty, arising from this source, is comparatively small. (6) Many objects, which cannot be considered beauti- ful of themselves, become such, by being associated with a variety of former pleasing and enlivening recollections; and such, as possess beauty of themselves, may augment the pleasing emotions from the same cause. Also much of the difference of opinion, which exists as to what ob- jects are beautiful, and what are not, is to be ascribed to association. These are some of the prominent views resulting from inquiries into this subject. 51 406 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. §. 341. Of picturesque beauty. We apply the term picturesque to whatever objects cause in us emotions of beauty, in which the beauty does not consist in a single circumstance by itself, but in a considerable number, in a happy state of combination. The meaning of the term is analogous to the signification of some others of a like termination, which are derived to us from the Italian through the medium of the French. Mr. Stewart remarks of the word, arabesque, that it expres- ses something in the style of the Arabians ; moresque, some- thing, in the style of the Moors ; and grotesque, something, which bears a resemblance to certain whimsical delinea- tions in a grotto or subterranean apartment at Rome. In like manner, picturesque, originally implies what is done in the style and spirit of a painter, who ordinarily places be- fore us an object made up of a number of circumstances, in such a state of combination, as to give pleasure. The epithet may be applied to paintings, to natural scenery, poetical descriptions, &c. The following des- cription from Thompson, which assembles together some of the circumstances, attending the cold, frosty nights of winter, is highly picturesque. "Loud rings the frozen earth and hard reflects " A double noise ; while, at his evening watch, "The village dog deters the nightly thief; " The heifer lows ; the distant waterfall " Swells in the breeze ; and with the hasty tread " Of traveller, the hollow-sounding plain " Shakes from afar."-* CHAPTER TWENTY NINTH. EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. §. 342. Connection between beauty and sublimity. Those emotions, which we designate as sublime, are a class of feelings, which have much in common with emo- tions of beauty ; they do not differ so much in nature or kind, as in degree. When we examine the feelings, which go under these two designations, we readily perceive, that they have a progression ; that there are numerous degrees in point of intensity ; but the emotion, although more viv- id in one case than the other, and mingled with some for- eign elements, is, for the most part, essentially the same. So that it is, by no means, impossible to trace a connec- tion even between the fainter feelings of beauty, and the most overwhelming emotions of the sublime. This progression of our feelings from one, that is gen- tle and pleasant to one, that is powerful and even painful, has been happily illustrated in the case of a person, who is supposed to behold a river at its first rise in the mountains, and to follow it, as it winds and enlarges in the subjacent plains, and to behold it at last losing itself in the expanse of the ocean. For a time the feelings, which are excited within him, as he gazes on the prospect, are what are termed emotions of beauty. As the small stream, which had hitherto played in the uplands and amid foliage, that almost hid it from his view, increases its waters, separates its banks to a great distance from each other, and becomes the majestic river ; his feelings are of a more powerful 408 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. kind. We often, by way of distinction, speak of the feel- ings existing under such circumstances, as emotions of grandeur. At last it expands and disappears in the im- mensity of the ocean; the vast illimitable world of bil- lows flashes in his sight. Then the emotion, widening and strengthening with the magnitude and energy of the objects, which accompany it, becomes sublime. Emo- tions of sublimity, therefore, chiefly differ, at least in most instances, from those of beauty in being more viv- id and powerful. §. 343. Of sublimity a parte rei. There is neither beauty nor sublimity a parte rei, using a phrase, which has come dowrt to us from the Schools. In saying, there is no sublimity of this sort, we mean, there is no sublimity, which has a permanent and unchangeable existence in all sublime objects, independently of the emo- tions, which we feel in the contemplation of them. Of those, who hold to the doctrine of a sublime of this des- cription, the opinions are various. Although they all maintain, that sublimity is a quality existing alike in all objects, which are capable of producing the emotion, they are not all agreed as to what that particular quality is. According to one, it is the terrible ; another makes it consist in the exertion of mighty power ; according to a third, it is great altitude or vast extent. We cannot agree, that there is any abstract sublimity of this kind. When we rightly consider the words, sublimity, and the sublime, we shall regard them as merely common names, expressive of a certain character or trait in our emotions, and nothing more. And of course they are ap- plied to all those emotions, however they may differ in some other respects, in which that distinctive characteris- tic is found. The characteristic, to which we refer, is by no means easy of definition ; although it is generally un- derstood to imply great vividness and strength. EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 409 §. 344. Occasions of emotions of sublimity. It will aid in the better understanding of this subject briefly to mention some of the occasions, on which the feeling of sublimity arises. Among other occasions, this emotion is found to exist, whenever it happens, that we have our attention called to objects of vast extent. Accordingly, mountains of great altitude, the celestial vault, when seen from high summits, vast plains, beheld from a commanding position, the ocean, &c, affect us with sublime emotions. There is the same result in the contemplation of all objects, which indicate great exertions of power ; even when we have but very confused notions of that energy, which we know to be somehow put forth. Nothing can be more sublime, than a volcano, throwing out from its bosom, clouds, and burning stones, and immense rivers of lava. The ocean, greatly agitated with a storm, and toss- ing the largest navies, as if in sport, possesses an increase of sublimity, on account of the more striking indications of power, which it at such a time gives. The shock of large armies also is sublime. But in these instances, as in most others, the sublime emotion cannot be ascribed solely to one cause ; something is to be attributed to vast extent ; something to the original effect of the brilliancy or darkness of colours; and something to feelings of dread and danger. We often experience emotions of sublimity in witness- ing objects, that move with very great swiftness. This is one source of the feelings, which we have, at beholding bodies of water rushing violently down a cataract. For the same reason, the hurricane, that hastens onward with irresistible velocity, and lays waste whatever it meets, is sublime. And here also we find a cause of part of that sublime emotion, which we feel on seeing at a distance the electric fluid, darting from the cloud to the earth. §. 345. Sublimity in actions or moral sublime. This emotion is also found to accompany certain ac- tions of men ; and here we find instances of what is term- 410 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. ed moral sublime. We in general regard those human actions as sublime, which are not only praiseworthy ; but which are put forth under such circumstances, as very strongly to excite our feelings. So that we here also see the progression from the beautiful to the sublime, the same as in the beautiful and sublime of the natural world. The benevolent man is a pleasing or beautiful object, but when in the pains and agonies of death, he requests with his dying breath, that the poor may be fed from his sub- stance, the exercise of benevolence under such circum- stances strongly excites our feelings, and becomes an in- stance of moral sublime. Whenever we look abroad upon men, and witness the trait of unconquerable fortitude, whenever we behold great self possession in sudden and fearful emergencies, or see a readiness to share voluntarily in another's suffer- ings, or become acquainted with other moral excellencies of a like kind, we cannot but experience a strong emo- tion. It is not easy to communicate an exact notion of this feeling, except perhaps in the circumstance cf its great strength. It is evident, however, that it is closely analogous to that agitation and expansion of the soul, which exists, when we contemplate what is vast, and ter- rible, and mighty in nature. §. 346. No objects sublime of themselves. But objects are not sublime, any more than they are beautiful in themselves ; in both cases, it is the mind of man and that alone, which gives them the sublimity, they seem to possess of their own nature. The hurricane, the cataract, the lightning, when resolved into their elements, are only a number of contiguous atoms. And yet it seems to be unalterably fixed in the constitution of things, that we cannot behold them without strong feeling. The emo- tions, which we feel, are diffused by us over the objects, that are their cause or more properly are antecedent to them ; and this diffusion will be found to be all, that con- stitutes their sublimity. There is a similar diffusion of EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 411 our own emotions over objects of our contemplation, that are instances of the moral sublime. § 347. Sublime objects have some elements of beauty. We have seen, that a regular progression may, in most instances, be traced from the beautiful to the sublime. It seems, therefore, to follow, that instances of the sublime will, on the removal of some circumstances, possess more or less of the beautiful. And this, on examination, will be found to be generally the case. Take, as an example, the shock of powerful armies, which is confessedly a sub- lime scene. We have only to remove the circumstance of slaughter ; and at once the regular order of the troops, their splendid dress and rapid movements, together with the floating of banners and the sound of music, are ex- ceedingly picturesque and beautiful; nothing more so. And all this is none the less beautiful, when thousands are falling and dying in actual contest ; although the painful emotion, consequent on witnessing a scene of slaughter, so much overpowers the sense of the beautiful, that it ap- pears even not to have an existence. If the engagement between the armies should be without the accompaniments of military dress, and without order, and without strains of music, but a mere struggle between man and man, with such arms as came readiest into their power, the scene, however destructive, would be any thing, rather than sub- lime. Diminish the force of the whirlwind to that of the gentle breeze, and as it playfully sweeps by us, we feel that emotion of pleasure, which is an element of the beau- tiful. And so when the mighty cataract is dwindled down to the cascade, we shall discover, that the tumultuous emo- tions of the sublime are converted into the gentler feelings of beauty. The same effect will be found to follow irj cases of the moral sublime. But it will be a-ked, was there any thing of moral beauty in Marius. the blood-thirsty Roman chief?— And yet when we see him sheltered amid the ruins of Carthage, fallen from his greatness, but retaining the unconquerable will, there is something in it of .sublimity. In reply it 412 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. may be said, that when we experience in this instance the moral sublime, we fix our attention upon a particular trait of character ; and do not wander over the whole life of the man. The trait here is fortitude ; and, consequently, we may discover in this, and in all similar instances, grada- tions of emotion. Whenever we see an individual cheer- ful, and happy, and composed in ordinary difficulties and pressures, such an individual is undoubtedly an object of moral beauty. But let these misfortunes be increased, let him be driven from home and country, let the world, as it were, be combined against him, and the man, who, in such circumstances, betrays no diminution of fortitude, but holds up an unshaken stability of soul amid the blackness of the desolations around him, is a sublime object. We shall feel the emotion, whatever may be his character,' be- cause our attention is fixed not upon the whole man, but upon a particular trait ; and that trait will be found, when exhibited in a less striking degree, to be a beautiful one. However true it may be, as a general statement, that sublimity implies some elements of the beautiful, it is not necessary to assert, that this is always the case. Perhaps in some instances it is not As an illustration, some will think, it is not very evident, that barren heaths and sandy plains of small extent have any portion of beauty ; and still, when they are spread abroad before us to great extent, and especially when seen from the summit of some eleva- ted object, they may have a considerable degree of the sublime. The statement given is meant as a general one, admitting certainly of but few exceptions. §. 348. Of emotions of grandeuv. For all the various emotions, of which we are now- speaking, as they rise from the lowest to the highest, we have the two general terms, beauty, and sublimity. There is, however, another form of expression, which is, with some good reason, putting forth its claim to be received into use ; viz. emotions oj grandeur. We may happily ap- ply this phraseology to various objects, which we hardly know, whether to class with the beautiful or sublime ; hav- EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 413 ing too much of fulness and expansiveness for the former, and too little of power for the latter. The meandering river is beautiful ; as it becomes deeper and wider, it as- sumes an appearance not of beauty, but of grandeur ; but the ocean only is more than either, is sublime. v;. 349. Of the original or primary sublimity of objects. If there be a connection between the beautiful and sublime, if beauty, grandeur, and sublimity are only names for various emotions, not so much differing in kind, as in degree ; essentially the same views, which were advanced in respect to beauty, will hold here. It will follow, that if the contemplation of some objects is attended with emo- tions of beauty, independently of associated feelings ; or, in other words, if they have a primary or original beauty, that there are objects also originally sublime. Hence we may conclude, that whatever has great height, or great depth, or vast extent, or other attributes of the sublime, will be able to excite in us emotions of sublimity of them- selves, independently of the subordinate or secondary aid, arising from any connected feelings. We have much ground for regarding this as a correct supposition. We have good reason to believe, that our Creator has appoint- ed certain objects, or perhaps we should say, certain forms or conditions of objects, as antecedents to the sublime within us. . ::.")(). Considerations in proof of the original sublimity of objects. It may be inferred, that there is such primary or orig- inal sublimity, not only in view of the connection, which has been stated to exist between the beautiful and sub- lime, but because it is no doubt agreeable to the common experience of men. But in resting the proposition, (where undoubtedly it ought to rest.) on experience, we must in- quire, as in the former chapter, into the feelings of the young. And this, for the obvious reason, that, when per- sons are somewhat advanced in age, it is difficult to sepa- rate the primary from the secondary or associated sublim- ity. They have then become inextricably mingled togeth- •!l4 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. er. Now take a child, and place him suddenly on the shores of the ocean, or in full sight of darkly wooded mountains of great altitude, or before the clouds and fires and thunders of volcanoes ; and, in most cases, he will be filled with sublime emotions ; his mind will swell at the perception ; it will heave to and fro, like the ocean itself in a tempest. His eye, his countenance, his gestures will indicate a power of internal feeling, which the limited language he can command is unable to express. This may well be stated as a fact, because it has been frequent- ly noticed by those, who are competent to observe. Again, if a person can succeed in conveying to a child by means of words sublime ideas of whatever kind, similar emotions will be found to exist, although generally in a less degree, than when the objects are directly presented to the senses. By way of confirming this, a statement of the younger Lord Lyttleton, who seems to have been nat- urally a person of much, sensibility, may be appealed to. "Of all the poets (says that writer) who have graced an- cient times, or delighted the latter ages, Milton is my fa- vourite. I was quite a boy, when, in reading Paradise Lost, I was so forcibly struck with a passage, that I laid down the book with some violence on the table, and took an hasty turn to the other end of the room. Your curiosity may naturally expect to be gratified with the passage in question. I quote it, therefore, for your reflection and amusement." " He spake ; and to confirm his words, out-flew "Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs "Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze " Far round illumined Hell.* §. 351. Influence of association on emotions of sublimity. Granting, that the sublime emotion is in part original, .still a great share of it is to be attributed to association. As an illustration, we may refer to the effects of sounds. When a sound suggests ideas of danger, as the report of artillery, and the howling of a storm ; when it calls up * Letters of the late Lord Lyttleton, xxvi. EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 41. i recollections of mighty power, as the fall oj a cataract, and the rumbling of an earthquake, the emotion of sub- limity, which we feel, is greatly increased by such sug- gestions. Few simple sounds are thought to have more of sublimity, than the report of a cannon ; but how differ- ent, how much greater the strength of feeling, than on other occasions, whenever we hear it coming to us from the fields of actual conflict ! Many sounds, which are in themselves inconsiderable, and are not much different from many others, to which we do not attach the charac- ter of sublimity, become highly sublime by association. There is frequently a low feeble sound, preceding the coming of a storm, which has this character. " Along the woods, along the moorish fens, " Sighs the sad genius of the coming storm, "Resounding long in fancy's listening ear. Thompson's Winter. It is sometimes the case, that people, whose sensibili- ties are much alive to thunder, mistake for it some com- mon sounds, such as the noise of a carriage, or the rum- bling of a cart. While they are under this mistake, they feel these sounds as sublime ; because they associate with them all those ideas of danger and of mighty power, which they customarily associate with thunder. The hoot of the owl at midnight is sublime chiefly by association ; also the scream of the eagle, heard avnid rocks and deserts. The latter is particularly expressive of fierce and lonely independence ; and both are connected in our remem- brances with some striking poetical passages. §. 352. Further illustrations of sublimity from association. The same results will be found to hold good in other cases. The sight of broken and heavy masses of dark clouds, driven about by the wind, is sublime. But how much more fruitful of emotion to those, who, in the days of Fingal and Ossian, saw them, in their piercing imagin- ations, peopled with the ghosts of the dead ; with the as- semblies of those, whose renown had continued to live long after their bodies had mouldered ! " Temora v < 41G EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. woods shook with the blast of the inconstant wind. A cloud gathered in the west. A red star looked from be- hind its edge. I stood in the wood alone ; I saw a ghost on the darkened air ; his stride extended from hill to hill. His shield was dim on his side. It was the son of Semo."* A view of the Egyptian pyramids animates us with sublime emotions ; it is impossible to behold such vast efforts of human power, and be unmoved; but the strength of these feelings is increased by means of the solemn re- collection, that they have stood unshaken, while succes- sive generations have flourished and perished at their feet, and by their being connected with many ideas of ancient magnificence, of unknown kings, and with numerous in- cidents in the history of a people, once famous for opu- lence and the arts, but now no longer an independent na- tion. Mount Sinai in Arabia Petroea is a rocky pile of considerable altitude, and like other summits must have always excited some emotion in those, who beheld it ; but when it is seen by a Christian traveller, the sublime emo- tion is greatly increased by the recollection of the impor- tant place, which this summit holds in the history of the Jews, and of its consequent connection with the belief and the hopes of all those, who embrace the religion of the Saviour. References. Longinus, de Sublimitate ; Buffier, First Truths, Pt. I. ch. xiii., {Inquiry in what true beauty consists ;) Burke on the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful ; Hume on the Principles of Morals, sect. v.,( Why utility pleases ;) J. G. Cooper's Letters concerning Taste ; Stewart's Philosophical Essays, Pt. II. ; Kant, Critik der Urtheilskraft, Theil I. absc i. ; Sir Joshua Reynold's Discourses, in, vn. ; Hogarth's Analysis of Beauty; Hutcheson's Introduction to Moral Philosophy, ch. i. §. 8. ; Beattie's Illustrations on Sublimity ; Alison on Taste ; Brown, Lects. liii — lviii. * Ossian, Epic Poem ofTemora, Bk. I. CHAPTER THIRTIETH, OF IMAGINATION. $. 353. Definition of the power of imagination. Imagination is a complex exercise of the mind, by means of which various conceptions are combined togeth- er, so as to form new wholes. The conceptions have prop- erly enough been regarded as the materials, from which the new creations are made; but it is not until after the existence of those mental states, which are implied in im- agination, that they are fixed upon, detained, and brought out from their state of singleness into happy and beautiful combinations. Our conceptions have been compared to shapeless stones, as they exist in the quarry, which " require little more than mechanic labour to convert them into common dwellings, but that rise into palaces and temples only at the command of architectural genius." That rude, and little more than mechanic effort, which converts the shape- less stones of the quarry into common dwellings, may justly be considered, when divested of its metaphorical as- pect, a correct representation of this mental property, as it exists among the great mass of mankind ; while the ar- chitectural genius, which creates palaces and temples, is the well-furnished and sublime imagination of poets, paint- ers, orators, &c. Imagination is a complex mental operation ; implying the exercise of the power of association in furnishing those conceptions, which are combined together; also the ex- 418 OF IMAGINATION. ercise of that susceptibility, by which we perceive the re- lations of things, sometime* called relative suggestion. Nor is this all that is necessary, as will hereafter more fully appear. §. 354. The creations of imagination not entirely voluntary. The opinion, that even persons of the most ready imag- ination can form new imaginary creations, whenever they choose, by a mere volition, however widely it may have prevailed, cannot be maintained. To will, or to exercise a volition, always implies a mental determination, a choice. In accordance with the common opinion, we will suppose, that a person wills, or chooses, to imagine an ocean of melted brass, or an immense body of liquid matter, which has that appearance. The statement itself evidently in- volves a contradiction. It is certainly impossible for a person to will to imagine any thing, since that precise thing, which he wills to imagine, must already be in his mind at the time of such volition. He wills, for instance, to imagine a sea of melted brass ; but of what meaning or what utility is this volition, when he has already imag- ined the very thing, which this language seems to antici- pate as future ? Whatever a person wills, or rather pro- fesses to will to imagine, he has already imagined; and, consequently, there can be no such tiring as entirely vol- untary imaginations. §. 355. Of imaginations not attended with desire. The creations, which we form by means of the power of imagination are of two kinds, those attended with desire, and those which are not. It is the latter kind, which we &peak of in this section. There is hardly any mind so wanting in intellectual wealth as not to find clusters of as- sociated conceptions, groups of images often arising in itself. They seem to come upon us, as it were, unbidden : and to combine themselves in a variety of proportions, pre- senting new, and perhaps grotesque figures. But, al- though this varied presentation of floating imagery have the appearance of occupying the mind in an accidental OF IMAGINATION. *19 manner, il all arises, and is regulated by the laws of asso- ciation. No image whatever occurs, which has not some connection with the state of the mind, which preceded it. In using these expressions however, we would not be un- derstood to imply,. by the connection asserted, any thing more than this, that one intellectual state, in certain given circumstances, follows another, agreeably to an original law or principle of our constitution established by its Ma- ker. But although we truly have here instances of the exercise of imagination, it is not of that higher and effec- tive kind, which gives'birth to the creations of poetry, and painting, and the other fine arts. §. 35C. Of imaginations attended with desire. While there are some combinations, the result of im- agination, which are formed without any accompanying emotion of desire, there are some, where desire, or inten- tion of some sort, clearly exists. It is of cases of this last mentioned kind that we are accustomed to think, when with those intellectual susceptibilities and states, to which, considered conjointly, we give the name of imagination, we associate the idea of effective power or the ability to create. It is this frame of mind, which exists in every at- tempt at composition in prose and verse, where the sub- ject admits of lively images and appeals to the passions. It may assist us in understanding this species of imag- ination, if we endeavour to examine the intellectual opera- tions of one, who has sat down to write, whether the inten- ded production be of a poetic or other kind. A person cannot ordinarily be supposed to sit down to write on any occasion whatever, without ha-ving some gen- eral idea of the subject to be written upon already in the mind. He, accordingly, commences the task before him with the expectation and the desire of developing the sub- ject more or less fully, of giving to it not only a greater continuity and a better arrangement, but an increased in- terest in every respect. And it may be the case, that ma- ny circumstances, indirectly relative to the effort oi com- position, such as the anticipated approbation or disappro- 4%} OF IMAGINATION. bation of tl>e public, have an affect greatly to fix and in- crease the emotion of interest or desire. The feelino- of de- sire, when compared with some other emotions, is found to possess a superiour degree of permanency. And as, in the instance which we are now considering, the desire or feel- ing of interest is intimately connected with the general conception of the subject before the mind, the effect of this connection is a communication of the permanency, originally belonging solely to the desire, to the general idea or outlines of the subject, which the writer is to treat of. The conception, therefore, of those outlines loses in this way the fleeting and ever-varying nature of other conceptions, and becomes fixed. The lineaments of the anticipated treatise remain in their length, breadth, and proportions, permanently held up to the writer's view. Spontaneous conceptions continue, in the mean while, to arise in the mind, on the common principles of associa- tion ; but as the general outline of the subject remains fixed, they all have a greater or less relation to it. And partaking in some measure of the permanency of the out- line, to which they have relation, the writer has an oppor- tunity to approve some and to reject others, according as they impress him as being suitable or unsuitable to the na- ture of the Subject. Those, which affect him with emo- tions of pleasure, on account of their perceived fitness for the subject, are retained and committed to writing, while others, which do not thus affect and interest him, soon fade away altogether. Whoever carefully notices the operations of his own mind, when he makes an effort at composition, will proba- bly be well satisfied, that this account of the intellectual process is very near the truth. It will be recollected, therefore, that the exercise of imagination in the composition of any theme, which ad- mits of it, is not the exertion of merely a single intellec- tual ability. It is the developement of various feelings and susceptibilities ; of desire, of the principle of simple suggestion or association, and of judgment or relative sug- gestions, in consequence of which a feeling of relative fit- OF IMAGINATION. 431 ness or unfitness arises, on the contemplation of the con- ceptions, which have spontaneously presented themselves. §. 357 Further illustrations of the same subject. We first think of some subject. With the original thought or design of the subject, there is a co-existent de- sire to investigate it, to adorn it, to present it to the exam- ination of others. The effect of this desire is to keep the general subject in mind ; and, as the natural consequence of the power of association, various conceptions arise, in some way or other related to the general subject. Of some of these conceptions we approve in consequence of their perceived fitness to the end in view, while we reject oth- ers on account of the absence of this requisite quality of agreeableness or fitness. For the sake of convenience and brevity we give the name of imagination to this complex state or series of states of the mind. It is important to possess a single term, expressive of the complex intellectual process ; other- wise, as we so frequently have occasion to refer to it in common conversation, we should be subjected, if not prop- erly to a circumlocution, at least to an unnecessary mul- tiplication of words. But while we find it so much for our convenience to make use of this term, we should be careful and not impose upon ourselves, by ever remember- ing, that it is the name, nevertheless, not of an original and independent faculty, which of itself accomplishes all, that has been mentioned, but of a complex state or of a series of states of the mind. A single further remark may be added in illustration of the process of the mind in lit- erary composition. It has been seen, to how great a de- gree efforts of this kind depend on the laws of association. When, therefore, a person has sat down to write, it may be expected, that he has furnished himself with pen and paper, and that he has books around him. The presence of these and other things, subordinate to the writer's gen- eral undertaking, constantly reminds him, by the opera- tion of the same laws, of the subject before !iim, and re- ,53 422 OF IMAGINATION. cals his attention, if he discover any disposition to wan- der from it. §. 358. Remarks from the writings of Dr. Reid. Dr. Reid (essay iv. ch. 4.) gives the following graph- ical statement of the selection, which is made by the wri- ter from the variety of his constantly arising and departing conceptions. " We seem to treat the thoughts, that present them- selves to the fancy in crowds, as a great man treats those [courtiers] that attend his levee. They are all ambitious of his attention. He goes round the circle, bestowing a bow upon one, a smile upon another ; asks a short ques- tion of a third, while a fourth is honoured with a particular conference ; and the greater part have no particular mark of attention, but go as they came. It is true, he can give no mark of his attention to those, who were not there; but he has a sufficient number for making a choice and dis- tinction." §. 359. Grounds of the preference of one conception to another. A question after all arises, on what principle is the mind enabled to ascertain that congruity, or incongruity, fitness or unfitness, agreeably to which it makes the selec- tion from its various conceptions. The fact is admitted, that the intellectual principle is successively in a series of different states, or, in other words, that there are succes- sive conceptions or images, but the inquiry still remains, why is one image in the group thought or known to be more worthy than any other image, or why are any two images combined together in preference to any two others? The answer is, it is owing to no secondary law, but to an instantaneous and original feeling of approbation or dis- approbation. Those conceptions, which, according to this original power of approving or disapproving, are found to be suitable to the general outlines of the subject, are detained. Those images, which are perceived to possess a peculiar congruity and fitness for each other, are united Together, forming new and more beautiful compounds. OF IMAGINATION. 423 Winle others, although no directly voluntary power is ex- ercised over either class, are neglected, and soon become extinct. But no account of this vivid feeling of approval or disapproval, of this very rapid perception of the mutual congruity of the images for each other or for the general conception of the subject, can be given, other than this, that with such a power, the original author of our intel- lectual susceptibilities has been pleased to form us. §. 360. Mental process in the formation of Milton's imaginary paradise. What has been said can perhaps be made plainer, by considering in what way Milton must have proceeded, in forming his happy description of the garden of Eden. He had formed, in the first place, some general outlines of the subject ; and as it was one, which greatly interested his feelings, the interest, which was felt, tended to keep the outlines steadily before him. Then, the principles of association, which are ever at work, brought up a great variety of conceptions, having a relation of some kind to those general features ; such as conceptions of rocks, and woods, and rivers, and green leaves, and golden fruit. The next step was the exercise of that power, which we have of perceiving relations, which has sometimes been designated as the susceptibility or power of relative sug- gestion. By means of this he was at once able to deter- mine, whether the conceptions, which were suggested, were suitable to the general design of the description and to each other, and whether they would have, when com- bined together to form one picture, a pleasing effect. Ac- cordingly, those, which were judged most suitable, were combined together as parts of the imaginary creation, and were detained and fixed by means of that feeling of inter- est, which was at first exercised towards the more promi- nent outlines merely ; while others speedily disappeared from the mind. And thus arose an imaginary landscape, more interesting, more perfect, than we can ever expect to find realized in nature. 4v!-i OF IMAGINATION. §. 361. Limitations of imagination by the condition of the senses. The power of imagination depends in some measure on the number and condition of the senses. If Milton had been blind from infancy, it cannot be supposed, that he would have been able to have formed that beautiful com- bination, the description of Paradise. Had he possessed the sense of seeing only in an imperfect degree, furnished, for instance, with only those glimmerings of sight, which persons sometimes possess before being couched for the cataract, he would not have been able to have done it, at least to the degree of perfection, in which the description appears at present. A person undertakes to describe a battle, who has al- ways been deaf; and in order that he may enjoy every facility for the execution of his plan, he places himself on some eminence, where he can overlook those military manoeuvres and conflicts, the description of which he an- ticipates giving. He gives us an account of the number engaged, of the position occupied, of the military dress, of the valour of different corps ; but it was to him, as he be- held it, and it is to us, as we read it in his description, only a noiseless scene. A deathlike silence prevails. The word of command flies from rank to rank, and we hear it not. The hoofs of war-horses beat the earth, and we perceive the motion, without a perception of the noise of their tread. We witness the flashes of cannon on the hills of the battle, but while we feel the trembling of the earth, no sound reaches us. What an inadequate conception must a person, who does not possess the sense of hearing, have of many of those circumstances, which inspire others with emotions of pleasure and sublimity ! Similar remarks will apply to those cases, where there is a failure in any other sense. We read of a philoso- pher, who attempted to give a blind man a notion of scarlet colour. The philosopher assured him, that it yielded a live- ly and pleasant sensation ; that it was an emblem of cour- age ; & being considered ornamental to them, was worn by kings and princes. Having specified these and some oth- er things, connected with this colour, he then asked the OK IMAGINATION. 42'* blind man, whether he had any idea of scarlet ? The blind man replied, that he thought he had some notion of it, and that he supposed, it must be more like the sound of a trumpet, than any thing else in the world. But it will be asked, how does it then happen, that men born 1)1 ind, frequently talk of visible things with great, readiness and propriety f When they with propriety ap- ply epithets to objects of colour, such conversation must be the effect of memory. They repeat what they have heard others say. For, if they are perfectly blind, they certainly can have no idea of what is meant by colours ; being as ignorant of them.as any man whatever is of the phenomena of the world of spirits. In their efforts, (which, in consequence of their unhap- py condition, they undoubtedly often make,) to form a conception of light, their ideas must always be conformed, in a great measure, to the knowledge, they already pos- sess by means of the other senses. And it must conse- quently be very erroneous, as there is certainly nothing in the nature of light, analogous to the nature of sound, or of taste, or of smell. §. 362. Explanation of die case of the poet Blacklock. In connection with the remarks, which have already been made on the limitation of imagination by the state and condition of the senses, it seems proper to say some- thing in explanation of the case of the poet Blacklock. Thomas Blacklock, a |fc>et, and a minister of the estab- lished church of Scotland, lost his sight in consequence of a disease at five months of age. It does not come with- in our plan to repeat in this place his interesting and in- structive history, any further than to say that, notwith- standing the great misfortune, under which he laboured, he made such advances in learning as to merit the repu- tation of a philosopher as well as of a poet. " I am ac- quainted, (says Dr. Beattie, referring to Blacklock,) with a person, who, having at the age of five months lost his sight by the small-pox, retains not the idea of any thing visible ; and is yet a good poet, philosopher, and divine, a 426 OF IMAGINATION. most ingenious as well as a most worthy man. He dreams; too as frequently as other people, and dreams are univer- sally ascribed to the fancy ; and his writings prove, that he possesses, what every critic will allow to be, and what Addison himself would have called, a sublime imagination." In the remarks before made, we find a solution, in some measure, of his poetical ability. He was undoubtedly a person of natural capacity superiour to that of most men ; and possessed in particular of no small share of poetical sensibility. Giving loose to the ardour of his imagination, he was led to treasure up in his memory, from conversation and from hearing works read, the words, white, black, purple, and others, descriptive of the colour of objects. His general accuracy, in the application of them, may be accounted for in this way. He had acquired in the same way, that he had acquired the words themselves, those as- sociations, which people in general are in the habit of at- taching to such colours, as have been mentioned. With the word, white, for instance, although it could not sug- gest to him the idea of that colour, he associated the ideas of cheerfulness and innocence ; with the word, purple, the ideas of splendour and majesty ; with the word, black, the qualities of gloom and melancholy. It is not, therefore, wholly unaccountable, that he should have been able to speak of the "purple " dawn, or of " dark " woodland scen- ery, although he at the same time was without any cor- rect notions of the primary significations of these terms. §. 363. Works of imagination give different degrees of pleasure. Different persons receive different degrees of pleasure from works of imagination. The fact is well known. Something may be said in explanation of it, in reference to poetry; which is one of the creations of the power, we are considering. And the same explanation will apply in part to other efforts of the imagination. Although poetry is generally looked upon to be a useful and pleasing art, we find, that all have not the same relish for its beauties, The pleasure, which is felt by a reader of poetry, will in general depend upon two circumstances, (1) the confer- OF IMAGINATION. *» mity of his experience to the things described, (2) the liveliness of his own imagination. The pleasure received will depend, in the first place, on the conformity of the reader's experience to the things described. Accordingly, if the scene of a poem be laid within the limits of a commercial city, if it deal chiefly in the description of the habits of the people residing there, and of their various turns of fortune, it will excite but comparatively little interest in those, who have been brought up wholly amid retired and rural scenes. And when, on the other hand, the scene of it is laid in the country, when it deals in the toils, and sorrows, and joys of country life, it excites comparatively little interest in those, who have never had any actual experience of that kind. Burn's Cotter's Saturday Night is an admirable poem; but it is exceedingly more pleasing to those, who can clearly perceive, from what they have themselves seen and heard and felt, its accurate conformity to nature, than to those, who cannot. The pleasure, which is felt by a reader of poetry, will ■depend also in part on the liveliness of his own imagina- tion. In poems the different parts are only imperfectly filled up ; some describe more minutely than others ; but the most minute describers only trace the outlines. These remain, therefore, to be filled up by the reader. But the a- bility to do this is found in very different degrees indifferent persons ; some very rapidly and admirably finish the picture, and others do not. The latter, consequently, remain, in a considerable degree, unaffected, and perhaps condemn the poem as deficient in interest ; while the former read it with great feeling and pleasure.-^ — This statement ac- counts for the fact, that the same poem gives to diifcrenl persons different degrees of satisfaction ; and also, inas- much as it requires in all cases some power of imagina- tion in the reader, explains the circumstance, that so main appear to be utterly destitute of any relish for the beau- ties of the poetic art. 42S OF IMAGINATION. §. 364. Utility of the creations of poetry, painting, &.O. Some have questioned the utility both of the poetic and of the other fine arts. It is evident, that the bene- fits and evils of poetry, whatever they may be, cannot be accurately pointed out, without the separate consideration of each department, into which the art is divided. The ele^y, lyrics, the epic, pastorals, descriptive and didac- tic poetry, and the tragedy, all have their different laws ; they aim, in some measure, at different objects, and cannot be judged of on precisely the same principles. But as the consideration of each department separately cannot be attempted, a few general remarks must answer. Poetry preserves the recollection of early days. When we are nigh having every finer feeling entirely blunted bv the cares and interests of life, it revives before us a vouth of innocence, confidence, and affection. In doing this, it tells us, we must not give up all to the world, and that if we would be happy and beloved, we must yield something to the cultivation of the moral sensibilities. This is one benefit. Poetry dwells with enthusiasm on the works of nature. It makes us acquainted with the blue mountains, the " gray old trunks " of trees, the voice of floods ; and while it holds up the beauties of nature, it secures a yet higher object, in more fully revealing to us the character of the author of nature. And here is anoth- er good result. Poetry may be said to be the book of the passions. It paints man without reserve ; both his good and bad qual- ities. It describes his truth, his gratitude, and his mag- nanimity ; and, on the other hand, discloses with equal freedom the unworthy passions of pride, self-seeking, envy, revenge. The benefit here is, not merely that the passions, are made known, but that it is done with such precision, with such truth, and strength. Further; poetry realizes by anticipation those restless and ex- pansive desires, which we find naturally in the soul. He, who scrutinizes the operations of his mind, will observe it full of activity ; it is ever struggling against the bounds, which limit it: ;i* if fully conscious of its im- OF IMAGINATION. 43p mortal destiny, it not only looks forward to something new, but to something greater, and higher, and nobler. And hence it enters with joy into those bright creations, those new worlds, which it is the prerogative of poetry to form ; and they seem to it a congenial residence. Most of these considerations in favour of the poetic art will apply also to painting. These are truly sister arts ; they require, in the performance, a kindred genius 5 their object is essentially the same. Poetry indeed ad- dresses itself to the ear, and painting to the sight ; but both are addressed to the imagination. And the success in either case will depend greatly on the degree, to which the imagination is awakened up. Other fine arts, music, sculpture, architecture, as well as poetry and painting, are arts of the imagination. They are addressed to it, and are founded on it. They may all be equally misap- plied and perverted. But when applied, as they ought to be, it is no less evident, that they indicate a laudable pro- gress of the human mind, and may contribute to men's convenience and enjoyment. §. 365. Of misconceptions by means of the imagination. But while it is safe to admit, that the imagination may be made subservient to valuable purposes, it is no less true, that it may sometimes mislead us. The following are instances among others, where this is the result. Our admiration of the great may be reckoned a preju- dice of the imagination Yv^e are apt to suppose them possessed of personal attractions, and of the highest hap- piness ; and not only this, to invest them with every wor- thy moral attribute. " The misfortunes, (says a late wri- ter,) of Mary, Queen of Scots, and of her descendant, Prince Charles Edward, commanded the sympathy, the love, and the enthusiasm of millions. In the cause of these princes, how many have joyfully sacrificed life, though neither of them was worthy or capable of reign- ing ! How many labour still to blot out every stain from their memory ! And yet every individual, in the circle of his own private friends and acquaintances, can un- 54 430 OF IMAGINATION. doubtedly find many persons more distinguished for vir- tue, for good principles, for integrity of character, than the prince for whom he is willing to lay down his life ; but a friend, a private man, is invested with none of those attributes, always dazzling but often false, which are cal- culated to strike the imagination." Our maginations mislead us also in respect to war, whenever we contemplate it at a distance, and do not feel its effects at our own firesides and homes. We delight to dwell upon the idea of mighty power, which it suggests : we recal to memory the homage and plaudits, which have been given to the brave ; we combine together concep- tions of all, that is stirring in music, and brilliant in equi- page. In a word, it is a kindling imagination, seizing upon some imposing circumstances, that leads multitudes into deplorable mistakes as to the character of that great scourge of the human race. Again ; the power of im- agination often gives a wrong colouring to future life. It is here as in some prospects in natural scenery, 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view. Whatever may be our present evils, we imagine there is good to come. We rush forward in the pursuit of it, like children, who set out with spirited emulation, expect- ing to grasp in their hands the splendours of the rainbow, that appears to them to rest upon the neighbouring hills. §. 3(5G. Explanation of the above misrepresentations of the imag- ination. But how happens it, that this faculty so often misleads us ? What explanation can be given f The answer is, that the mind turns away with a natural aversion from whatever causes it pain or uneasiness ; de- lighted to dwell on the elements of beauty and sublimity, and in general on all scenes, which excite in it pleasant emotions. As there is, therefore, more or less in all ac- tual situations, which causes dissatisfaction, we shall al- ways find, in every condition, in which we are placed, something, which detracts from what we imagine to be the sum of happiness. The evils, which are around us OF IMAGINATION. 431 Hid near us, we must know; Our situation forbids an at- tempt at the concealment of them. Every day forces the lesson of human adversity on our attention. But when we look abroad from the reality, which exists at home, from the cares and sorrows, which are ever near at hand, to other scenes and prospects, we do not think of trial and disappointment, because we are not obliged to. We fix our attention upon those circumstances, which ap- pear most favourable and interesting; and, consequently, know nothing of the uneasiness and misery, which actual- ly exist in the imaginary Paradise of our creation. For instance, we are apt to associate, as has been remarked, with persons in very high stations in life, the ideas of un-, alloyed Happiness, of moral excellence, of manliness and beauty of form ; but while men in the most exalted sta- tions have no less a share than others of bodily deformi- ties and suffering, they have still greater anxieties ; their hours of sorrow are often more numerous than those of any other class of persons. It was well inquired by King Henry in Shakespeare, "What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect, ' : That private men enjoy ? u And what have kings, that privates have not too, " Save ceremony, save general ceremony ? And under the direction of the same mental tendency, by which we are led to mark the elevations without noti- cing the depressions of the great men of the earth, we are led also to see the sublimities and hide from our sight the degradations and miseries of war, to behold the sunshine of the future, but no clouds. § 3G7. Feelings of sympathy aided by imagination. But where the imagination is not at liberty to fix itself exclusively upon pleasing circumstances, the results as to the degree of creative power are the same, although they are of a different kind. In the one case, it forms creations of beauty, magnificence, sublimity ; in the other, it is equally efficacious in combining images of gloom and suf- fering. Hence a quick and powerful imagination is no 439 OP IMAGINATION. small aid in the exercise of the sympathetic feelings. Accordingly, when two men, the one a person of imagin- ation, the other not, meet a poor man, who has suddenly been reduced to poverty, they will be found to have dif- ferent degrees of sympathy for him. The latter no doubt will pity the unfortunate man ; but the former will pity him more. He will think of his former situation ; he will fol- low him to his dwelling; he will see in his "prophetic eye" the tears of his family ; in a word, he will, as a gen- eral statement, have more feeling for all individuals in suffering, and, consequently, be more likely to lend his aid to alleviate it. Thus, in Sterne's Sentimental Journey, he is led by some circumstance to think of a captive in one of the French State Prisons. He gives the reins to his imagina- tion ; '• and looks through the twilight of the grated door to take the picture. 1 beheld, (says he,) his body half- wasted with long expectation and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of the heart it is, which arises from hope deferred. Upon looking nearer, I saw him pale and feverish. In thirty years, the western breeze had not fan- ned his blood. He had seen no sun, no moon, in all that time ; nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his lattice. His children But here my heart began to bleed, and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait." §. 368. Remarks on taste in the fine arts. Closely connected with the subject of imagination and of emotions of beauty and sublimity, is that of taste in the fine arts Taste is a habit of correctly judging of beau- ty and deformity in works of art, founded on the experi- ence of emotions. We find all men formed with some degree of susceptibility, with some share of feeling, in view of the appearances of external nature : some things strike them as pleasing ; others as displeasing. We may notice the developement of this susceptibility of emotions in children, who show an attachment for some objects, a dislike for others ; fit one time are pleased, at another OF IMAGINATION. 438 pained. The most stupid peasant lingers to behold the clouds, that brighten in the setting sun ; and at his rude fireside listens with pleasure to old tales and ballads. As no man is without feeling, we all begin after a time to ascribe certain characteristics to objects, answering to those emotions, which have been excited in us. We set down some as pleasing, others as displeasing ; some as beautiful, others as deformed ; and others as possessing the marks of grandeur and sublimity. That is, we form a judgment of objects, founded on the emotions, which we experience. We do not ordinarily speak of the works of nature as objects of taste ; they excite in us emotions of various kinds ; but in general we employ the term taste, in refer- ence to the fine arts. A man may be said to have a taste in the arts, who, from a careful study of the emotions, that havu been excited in himself or others on various oc- casions, can tell, with a considerable degree of accuracy, what works will be found generally pleasing, or the oppo- site. This implies, that he will readily seize upon the great characteristics of the work, whatever it is, of which he judges; and being able to point out its prominent ex- cellencies and defects, he can be expected to give the general character of the painter, poet, sculptor, &c. on whose production he may happen to be remarking. Thus a man of taste in painting gives us the following idea of the character of Rubens. His figures, as we learn from him, were not always drawn with so much care and with such studied correctness, as those of some other paint- ers. His superiority lies not in an attitude or any peculiar expression, but in the general effect, in the genius, which pervades and illuminates the whole. The works of some other painters are the effect of great labour and pains : and, with very few defects, are after all spiritless and insip- id ; but those of Rubens seem to have come from his hand with ease and freedom, and are full of spirit. The bril- liancy of his colours, and their lively opposition to each other, the flowing freedom of his outline and the animation of his pencil keep alive the attention of the spectator, and 434 OF IMAGINATION. make him feel a degree of that enthusiasm, with which the painter himself was carried away. This was Sir J. Rey- nold's opinion of Rubens. §. 369. Characteristics &c. of a good taste. In connection with the illustrations above given, we may lay down two characteristics of a good taste. The first is correctness. The province of correctness of taste is the detection of blemishes. The taste, that has this quality, does not mistake deformities for beauty, and is not likely to be imposed upon by counterfeits, however well executed. A second characteristic is delicacy. A person of delicacy of taste notices those more refined beauties, which are perceived only by cultivated minds. It marks the latent, as well as the more obvious excellen- cies. It is worthy of notice, that the judgments, which a per- son of taste passes upon works of art, are rapid ; he often forms an opinion of them instantaneously. When it is re- membered, that taste is not a distinct faculty, but a power, which is acquired, this circumstance deserves some notice. It is explained, however, in the definition, which has been given, viz. Taste is the habit of judging correctly, &c. The influence of practice, in giving quickness to our mental operations, was considered in the chapter on Intel- lectual Habits. The skilful accountant can tell, by a mere glance of the eye, the sum of a long column of figures. The practised military engineer estimates with almost in- tuitive readiness the fitness or unfitness of a spot of ground for encampments and fortifications. It is the same in the decisions of taste. The person, who has this quality in a good degree, is impressed with the excellencies and de- fects of a production in the arts at once. That is, he takes into view the various circumstances, which go to consti- tute its beauty or deformity with such quickness, that it appears to be a single perception. CHAPTER THIRTY FIRST, OF WIT AND HUMOUR. §. 370. Emotions of the ludicrous. ?V e shall not be in a way to give a correct idea of wit and humour, without briefly examining another class of our feelings, viz. emotions of the ludicrous. It is difficult to give a precise definition of this feeling, although, when we ana- lyze it, we find it to be complex, embracing an emotion of surprize, also of quick and playful delight. But the pleas- ing part of the emotion receives a peculiar modification, and one, which cannot be fully conveyed in words, in con- sequence of our perception of some incongruity in the per- son or thing, which is the cause of it. §. 371. Occasions of emotions of the ludicrous. But what are the true occasions of emotions of the lu- dicrous ? In answer, we say, that this feeling is never ex- perienced, except when we notice something, either in thoughts, or in outward objects and actions, which is un- expected and uncommon. That is to say, whenever this emotion is felt, there is always an unexpected discovery by us of some new relations. But then it must be observ- ed, that the feeling in question does not necessarily exist in consequence of the discovery of such relations merely. Something more is necessary, as may be very readily seen. Thus, we are sometimes, in the physical sciences, pre- sented with unexpected and novel combinations of the properties and qualities of bodies. But whenever we dip- 430 OF WIT AND HUMOUR. cover in those sciences relations in objects, which were not only unknown, but unsuspected, we find no emotion of ludicrousness, although we are very pleasantly surprized. Again, similes, metaphors, and other like figures of speech imply in general some new and unexpected relations of ideas. It is this trait in them, which gives them their chief force. But when employed in serious compositions, they are of a character far from being ludicrous. Hence we infer, that emotions of ludicrousness do not exist on the discovery of new and unexpected relations, unless there is at the same time a perception, or supposed perception of gome incongruity or unsuitableness. Such perception of unsuitableness may be expected to give to the whole emo- tion a new and specific character, which every one is ac- quainted with from his own experience, but which, as be- fore intimated, it is difficult to express in words. §. 372. Of Hobbes' account of the ludicrous. There has not been an entire uniformity on the subject of emotions of the ludicrous. It would seem, that Hobbes {human nature, chap, ix.) considered feelings of this kind, as depending on a modification of mere pride in a compari- son of ourselves with others to our own advantage. He says of laughter, which, when considered in reference to the mind and independently of the mere muscular action, is nothing more than a feeling of the ludicrous, that it is " a sudden glory, arising from a sudden conception of some eminency in ourselves, by comparison with the infirmity of others, or with our own formerly." To this notion of the origin of this class of our feelings, there are some ob- jections ; viz. (1) In many instances we have the feel- ing in question, when there is evidently no discovery of any infirmity, either in the witty person, or in the subject of his wit, over which we can ourselves triumph with any good reason. (2) Further, if the doctrine, which re- solves the emotions of ludicrousness into a proud compar- ison of ourselves with others, were correct, it would follow. that the most proud and self-conceited men would be most inclined to mirth and sociabilitv. which we do not find to OF WIT AND HUMOUR. 437 be the fact. According to Hobbes' notion of the origin of these feelings, we have only to go into the company of the most ignorant and stupid, if we wish to be exceedingly merry. In such company we could not fail to be sensible of some eminency in ourselves, in comparison with the in- firmities of others. We should here be in a situation, cor- responding to his definition of laughter, but there can be no doubt, that multitudes would be but very little inclined to indulge that feeling in the midst of such associates. But while we cannot receive this writer's account of the feeling in question, we may undoubtedly be well agreed in respect to it, as far as this ; There is an emotion of sur- prize, combined with a quick and playful delight of a pe- culiar kind, and this emotion arises on the discovery of unexpected relations of ideas, and the perception or ap- parent perception of some incongruity. §. 373. What is to be understood by wit. We apprehend, that an emotion of the ludicrous is al- ways, in a greater or less degree, experienced in all instan- ces of wit, as the term is generally understood at the pres- ent time. We are, therefore, led to this definition of it; Wit consists in suddenly presenting to tbe mind an assem- blage of related ideas of such a sort as to occasion feelings of the ludicrous. This is done in a variety of ways ; and among others in the two following. §. 374. Of wit as it consists in burlesque or in debasing objects. The first method, which wit employs in exciting the feeling of the ludicrous, is, by debasing those things, which are pompous ; that is, those things which have an appear- ance of greater weight and gravity, than they are truly en- titled to. Descriptions of this sort are termed burlesque. An attempt to lesson what is truly and confessedly se- rious and important, has in general an unpleasant effect, very different from that, which is caused by true wit. In the practice of burlesque, as on all other occasions of wit, there is a sudden and uncommon assemblage of re- 55 438 OF WIT AND HUMOUR. lated ideas. Take as an instance the following compari- son from Hudibras ; " And now had Phoebus in the lap " Of Thetis taken out his nap ; " And, like a lobster boiled, the morn " From black to red began to turn. Of a similar kind are those instances, in which objects of real dignity and importance are coupled with things mean and contemptible, although there is no direct and formal comparison made. As in this instance from the above-mentioned book ; " For when the reslless Greeks sat down " So many years before Troy-town, " And were renowned, as Homer writes, " For well-soaled boots, no less than fights. In these instances we have related ideas. In the first, there is undoubtedly an analogy between a lobster and the morning, in the particular of its turning from dark to red. But however real it may be, it strikes every one, as a sin- gular and unexpected resemblance. In the other passage, it is not clear, that Butler has done any thing more than Homer in asssociating the renown of the Greeks with their boots, as well as their valour. But to us the connection of ideas is hardly less uncommon, and singular, not to say incongruous, than in the former. $. 375. Of wit when employed in aggrandizing objects. The second method, which wit employs in exciting emotions of the ludicrous, is by aggrandizing objects, which are in themselves inconsiderable. This species of wit may be suitably termed mock-majestic or mock-heroic. While the former kind delights in low expressions, this is the re- verse, and chooses learned words, and sonorous combina- tions. In the following spirited passage of Pope, the wri- ter compares dunces to gods, and Grub-street to heaven- " As Berecynthia, while her offspring vie <: In homage to the mother of the sky, " Surveys around her in the blest abode " An hundred sons, and every son a god ; OF WIT AND HUMOUR. L3B •t with less glory mighty Dulness crowned, " Shall take through Grubstreet her triumphant round ; " And her Parnassus glancing o'er at once, " Behold a hundred sons, and each a dunce. In this division of wit. are to be included those instan- ces where grave and weighty reflections are made upon mere trifles. In this case, as in others, the ideas are in some respects related, or have something in common ; but the grouping of them is so curious and unexpected, that we cannot observe it without considerable emotion. "My galligaskins, that have long withstood " The winter's fury and encroaching frosts, •'By time subdued, (what ivill not time subdue!) " An horrid chasm disclose. . There are various other ways, in which ideas are com- bined together, so as to excite in us that emotion, which follows whatever we term witty. It is worthy of remark that some sayings, which would otherwise have appeared to us witty, lose their intended effect, whenever we are led to suspect, that they were premeditated. Hence an obser- vation or allusion, which would be well received in conver- sation, would often be insipid in print ; and it is for the same reason, that we receive more pleasure from a witty repartee, than a witty attack.— — From this circumstance we infer, that part of the complex feeling, which follows a witty saying, is an emotion of vivid pleasure or admiration, at witnessing the power of the witty person in bringing to- gether peculiar combinations of thought. §. 370. Of the character and occasions of humour. We generally apply the terms, humour, and humorous, to descriptions of a particular character, whether written, or given in conversation. We find among men what seems to us a disproportion in their passions; for instance, when they are noisy and violent, but not durable. We find inconsistencies, contradictions, and disproportions in their actions. They have their foibles, (hardly any one is without them,) such as self-conceit, caprice, foolish partial- ities, jealousies, &c. Such incongruities in feeling and 440 OP WIT AND HUMOUR. action cause an emotion of surprise, like an unexpected combination of ideas in wit. Observing them, as we do, in connection with the acknowledged high traits and res- ponsibilities of human nature, we can no more refrain from an emotion of the ludicrous, than we can on seeing a gen- tleman of fine clothes and high dignity making a false' step, and tumbling into a gutter. A person, who can seize upon these specialities in temper and conduct, and set them forth in a lively and exact manner, is called a man of humour ; his descriptions are humorous descriptions. Addison has given many examples of the humorous in the incidents and characters of the Tatler and Spectator. But excellence in this species of writing is not very frequently found, and is an attainment of considerable difficulty. In general it implies something peculiar in the character of the writer. There are some persons, who seem to have a natural incli- nation for noticing those traits in the feelings and actions of men, which cause ludicrous emotions. Whatever may be the cause of it, there can hardly be a question as to the fact, that some possess this characteristic more than oth- ers. This was particularly true of Swift, and the same characteristic has been ascribed to Fontaine. Writers, who have a natural turn of this sort, will be more likely to excel in the humorous, than others. See Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric, Bk. I, ch. hi. ; Beattie on Laugh- ter and Ludicrous Composition, &c. CHAPTER THIRTY SECOJVD. SYMPATHETIC IMITATION. §. 377 Of the propensity to imitation in general. J. here seems to be in human nature a propensity to Imitation. Children are early found to observe with care what others do, and to attempt doing the like. They are greatly aided by this propensity in learning to talk. It is not without long continued efforts, in which they are evidently sustained by the mere pleasure of imitation, that they acquire the use of oral language. At a little later period, we find the same propensity at work. Ever busily- engaged, they frame houses, erect water-works, and lay out gardens in miniature. They shoulder a cane for a musket ; practise a measured step and fierce look : and become soldiers, as well as gardeners and architects, be- fore they are men. So universal and effective is this pro- pensity, that it may well be called natural. But it is the particular object of this chapter, without entering into the subject of imitation in general, to con- sider that form of it, which is called Sympathetic. In Sympathetic Imitation there is commonly understood to be more or less of feeling, which is expressed by the coun- tenance, gestures, or other external signs. There is also a communication of this feeling to others ; they experi- ence similar emotions. And these emotions are express- ed, on the part of the sympathetic person, by similar out- ward signs. That is to say, in this form of imitation we both act and feel as others ; and this, in consequence of what we witness in them. 442 SYMPATHETIC IMITATION. §. 378. Familiar instances of sympathetic imitation. Abundance of instances, (many of them frequent and familiar.) show, that there is something of this kind ; that there is in human feelings, and in the signs of those feelings, a power of contagious communication, by which they often spread themselves rapidly from one to another. " In general it may be remarked, (says Stewart,) that whenever we see, in the countenance of another individ- ual, any sudden change of features; more especially, such a change as is expressive of any particular passion or emotion ; our own countenance has a tendency to assimilate itself to his. Every man is sensible of this when he looks at a person under the influence of laughter, or in a deep melancholy. Something, too, of the same kind, takes place in that spasm of the muscles of the jaw, which we experience in yawning ; an action which is well known to be frequently excited by the contagious power of exam- ple. Even when we conceive, in solitude, the external ex- pression of any passion, the effect of the conception is visible in our own appearance. This is a fact of which every person must be conscious, who attends, in his own case, to the result of the experiment ; and it is a circum- stance, which has been often remarked with respect to historical painters, when in the act of transferring to the canvass the glowing pictures of a creative imagina- tion."* To these statements, illustrative of sympathetic imita- tion, may be added that of a mob, when they gaze at a dancer on the slack rope. They seem not only to be filled with the same anxiety, which we may suppose to exist in the rope-dancer himself; but they naturally writhe, and twist, and balance their own bodies, as they see him do. It has also been frequently remarked, that when we see a stroke aimed and just ready to fall upon the leg or arm of an- other person, we naturally shrink, and draw back our own leg or arm. Hysterical paroxysms are said to have been sometimes produced at witnessing the exhibition of the * Stewart's Elements, Vol. in, Ch. ir. SYMPATHETIC IMITATION. -11;: pathetic parts of a drama. And even the convulsions of epilepsy have been excited by the mere sight of a person afflicted with them. § 379. Of sympathetic imitation in large multitudes. It has been often noticed, that the power of sympa- thetic imitation has been rendered intense, nearly in pro- portion to the numbers assembled together. In a large army, if the voice of triumph and joy be raised in a single column, it immediately extends through the whole. On the other hand, if a single column be struck with panic, and exhibit external signs of terrour by flight or other- wise, the whole army is likely to become rapidly infected. There are the same results in large popular assemblies. The art of the orator introduces a common feeling, which glows simultaneously in their bosoms. Soon some one, either sustained by weaker nerves or under the influence of stronger internal impulses, gives signs of bodily agita- tion. Those, who sit nearest, will probably next imbibe the contagion ; which spreads and increases, until the whole assembly is in a tumult. The spread of this sympa- thetic communication will be particularly rapid, if the first instances of emotion and action are of a decided and strong character. The statements, which have been made,are matters of common observation, and can hardly be supposed to have escaped the notice of any. But there are various other facts on record of a less common char- acter, although involving essentially the same principles. §. 380. Of the animal magnetism of M. Mesner in connection with this subject. About the year 1784, M. Mesner of Vienna professed to perform various and important cures by what he called animal magnetism. As this new mode of healing was introduced into France, and much interest was felt on the subject, Louis the Sixteenth appointed a number of per- sons to examine into it ; among whom were Lavoisier, Bailly, and Dr. Franklin, at that time American min- ister at Paris. On inquiry it appeared, that it was 444 SYMPATHETIC IMITATION. common in the process to assemble a considerable number of patients together. The patients were placed round a circular box or bucket of oak, the lid of which was pierced with a number of holes, through which there issued moveable and curved branches of iron. These branches were to be applied by the patient to the diseas- ed part. The commissioners, who were witnesses to these proceedings, found that no effect was produced at first. The patients usually sat an hour and sometimes two, before the crisis came on ; being connected with each other mean- while by means of a cord passed round their bodies. At length some one, wearied and nervous, and with feelings evidently much excited, was thrown into extraordinary convulsions. And in a short time the whole body of patients became similarly affected, in a greater or less de- gree. But the commissioners themselves, after having witnessed these singular results, consented to become the subjects of these experiments in their own persons. But they testify, that no effect was produced upon them. They also aver, when the process was gone through on persons alone, the same effects were not produced, as when a num- ber were together, provided the attempt were made for the first time. In the following extract they seem to attribute the results partly to imagination, and partly to sympathy : that is to say, to Sympathetic Imitation. " The magnetism, then,(the commissioners remark,) or, rather, the operations of the imagination, are equally dis- coverable at the theatre, in the camp, and in all numerous assemblies, as at the bucket ; acting, indeed, by different means, but producing similar effects. The bucket is sur- rounded with a crowd of patients ; the sensations are con- tinually communicated and recommunicated ; the nerves are at last worn out with this exercise, and the woman of most sensibility in the company gives the signal. In the meantime, the men, who are witnesses of these emotions, partake of them in proportion to their nervous sensibility; and those, with whom this sensibility is greatest, and most easily excited, become themselves the subjects of a crisis. "This irritable disposition, partly natural and partly SYMPATHETIC IMITATION. 445 acquired, becomes in each sex habitual. The sensations having been felt once or oftener, nothing is now necessary but to recal the memory of them, and to exalt the imagi- nation to the same degree, in order to operate the same effects. The public process is no longer necessary. You have only to conduct the finger and the rod of iron before the countenance, and to repeat the accustomed ceremonies. In many cases, the experiment succeeds, even when the patient is blindfolded, and, without any actual exhibition of the signs, is made to believe that they are repeated as formerly. The ideas are re-excited ; the sensations are reproduced; while the imagination, employing its accus- tomed instruments, and resuming its former routes, gives birth to the same phenomena."* §. 331. Instance of sympathetic imitation at the poor-house of Haerlem. Multitudes of other facts, equally well attested, show the sympathetic connection between mind and mind ; and the sympathy between the mind and the nervous and mus- cular system. Few are more interesting, or decisive than what is stated to have occurred at Haerlem under the in- spection of Boerhave. " In the house of charity at Haerlem, (says the account,) a girl, under an impression of terror, fell into a convulsive disease, which returned in regular paroxysms. One of the by-standers, intent upon assisting her, was seized with a similar fit, which also re- curred at intervals ; and on the day following, another was attacked ; then a third, and a fourth ; in short, almost the whole of the children, both girls and boys, were afflicted with these convulsions. No sooner was one seized, than the sight brought on the paroxysm in almost all the rest at the same time. Under these distressing circumstances, the physicians exhibited all the powerful antepileptic med- icines with which their art furnished them ; but in vain. They then applied to Boerhaave, who, compassionating the wretched condition of the poor children, repaired to * Rapports des Commissaires charges par le Roi, de l'Examen 4a Magnetisme Animal, (as quoted by Stewart.) 56 446 SYMPATHETIC IMITATION. Haerlem ; and whilst he was inquiring into the matter, one of them was seized with a fit, and immediately he saw sev- eral others attacked with a species of epileptic convulsion. If presently occurred to this sagacious physician, that, as the best medicines had been skilfully administered, and ae the propagation of the disease from one to another ap- peared to depend on the imagination, [the sympathy of im- agination,] by preventing this impression upon the mind» the disease might be cured : and his suggestion was suc- cessfully adopted. Having previously apprized the magis- trates of his views, he ordered, in the presence of all the children, that several portable furnaces should be placed in different parts of the chamber, containing burning coals, and that iron, bent to a certain form, should be placed in the furnaces ; and then he gave these farther commands ; that all medicines would be totally useless, and the only remedy with which he was acquainted, was, that the first, who should be seized with a fit, whether boy or girl, must be burnt in the arm, to the very bone, by a red-hot iron. He spoke this with uncommon dignity and gravity; and the children, terrified at the thoughts of this cruel remedy, when they perceived any tendency to the recurrence of the paroxysm, immediately exerted all their strength of mind, and called up the horrible idea of the burning; and were thus enabled, by the stronger mental impression, to resist the influence of the morbid propensity." It may be added, that not only those in the same fami- ly, and in the same building, have been seized ; but the contagion has sometimes spread from one to another, (by the mere imitation of sympathy as we suppose,) over whole towns, and even large districts of country. This was the case in a part of the island of Anglesey, in 179G ; and still later in this country, in some parts of Tennessee.* §. 382. Practical results connected with the foregoing view3. As sympathetic imitation is a part of our constitution, we may well suppose it has its beneficial ends. But it is evident from the facts, which have been given, that it may * See Edinburgh Medic, and Surg. Journal, Vol. III. p. 446. SYMPATHETIC IMITATION. 447 "?ilso be attended with results of a different kind. Hence the direction has sometimes been given by physicians, that a free intercourse with persons, subject to convulsive attacks, ought not to be unnecessarily indulged in, especially by such as are inclined to nervous affections. And this pre- cautionary rule might be extended to other cases ; for in- stance, of madness. " It is a question (says Stewart in the chapter already referred to) worthy of more attention than has yet been bestowed upon it by physicians, whether cer- tain kinds of insanity have not a contagious tendency, somewhat analagous to that which has just been remarked. That the incoherent ravings and frantic gestures of a madman have a singularly painful effect in unsettling and deranging the thoughts of others, I have more than once experienced in myself; nor have I ever looked upon this most afflicting of all spectacles, without a strong impres- sion of the danger to which I should be exposed, if I were to witness it daily. In consequence of this impression, I have always read, with peculiar admiration, the scene in the Tragedy of Lear, which forms the transition from the old king's beautiful and pathetic reflections on the storm, to the violent madness in which, without any change what- ever in his external circumstances, he is immediately after represented. In order to make this transition more grad- ual, the poet introduces Edgar, who, with a view of con- cealing himself from Lear, assumes the dress and beha- viour of a madman. At every sentence he utters, the mind of the king, " whose wits" (as we are told in the preceding scene,) were " beginning to turn" becomes more and more deranged, till at length every vestige of reason vanishes completely." §. 383. Application of these views to legislative assemblies. We have before had occasion to remark, that the ef- fects of sympathetic imitation have been experienced in public assemblies ; and we may here add, when those effects have been strongly marked, they have seldom been beneficial. In all political deliberative as- semblies, external signs of approbation and disapprobation 448 SYMPATHETIC IMITATION*. should be in a great degree suppressed. There is gener- ally enough in the subjects, which are discussed, to excite the members, without the additional excitement (to use a phrase of Buffon) of ' ( body speaking to body." It is said of the famous Athenian tribunal of the Areopagus, that they held their deliberations in the night, in order that their at- tention might not be diverted by external objects. And, without expressing an opinion on this practice, it is cer- tainly not unwise to guard against the terrible influences under consideration ; otherwise truth, honour, and justice will often be sacrificed to feeling. Every public deliber- ative assembly has probably furnished facts, illustrative of the propriety of this caution. Not to mention others, it will be enough to allude to the National Assembly and the National Convention of France. In those legislative bodies we hear of hisses, murmurs, exclamations, applauses, looks and gestures of defiance, cries of congratulation or of outlawry, bursts of laughter, public embraces, together with an occasional display of flags, poniards, and pistols. Let this course be pursued in such large assemblies, and a suitable re- gard to truth and rectitude is necessarily banished ; there will be continual uproar and confusion, as history has abundantly shown ; and the affairs of the nation cannot long be administered with any degree of success. The framers of the government of the United States had a clearer insight into human nature. Although they never anticipated as a common thing such vulgar exhibitions of passion, as were witnessed in the Revolutionary Assem- blies of France, still they supposed it might occasionally happen. To prevent the evil results of a state of things, equally degrading to the national dignity and adverse to its peace, they divided the Legislature into the two houses of the Senate and Representatives. The former, as they rightly judged, being few in number and of greater age, would operate as a salutary control on the more numerous and less experienced and, therefore, the more sympathetic and convulsive materials of the latter. CHAPTER THIRTY THIRD, OF INSTINCTS. §. 384. Of the meaning 'of the term instinct. It may be given as a definition of instinct, that it is a natural and invariable tendency to do certain things, with- out previous forethought and deliberation. — Instincts are found both in men, and in the inferiour animals ; particu- larly in the latter, as they are furnished with the power of reasoning only in a very small, if in any degree. The in- stincts of animals, by means of which they are taught to employ their powers of offence and defence, and to which we can trace such ingenious results as the ball of the silk- worm, the house of the beaver, &,c, are among the most pleasing parts of the study of natural history. Particularly so, because they strikingly illustrate the care of that Be- ing, who assures us, that not a sparrow falls to the ground without his notice. By giving them instruments, or rath- er helps, adapted to their situation, He has virtually given them food, and raiment, and barns, and houses. §. 365. Of instinctive feeJings in the human species. Man, possessed of the power of comparing, abstracting, generalizing, and reasoning, does not stand in need of in- stincts to the degree, in which they are necessary to the brute creation. But, although tendencies of this kind are generally acknowledged to have an existence in the human species, it is not certainly agreed upon, how far they exist, nor in what particular instances. This, howex - 450 OP INSTINCTS. ~" er, seems to be thought clear, that they are both fewer in number, and also more restricted in the degree of their power, than in the brute species. In making inquiries on the subject as to what are in- stinctive feelings in the human species, and what are not, two things should be kept in view. Instincts are to be considered as distinct from the automatic or mechanical actions of the bodily system, such as the contraction and dilatation of the chest and lungs in breathing by the mo- tion of certain muscles. Automatic actions have a cause, but the cause is not in the mind, and is no part of the mental structure. They rise solely from the bodily me- chanism. Further, instincts are to be distinguished from our natural appetites, and other mere animal feelings. Thus, hunger, and thirst in a child are not instincts, but the disposition, which it exhibits in the earliest period of its existence, to gratify those wants in a particular way, is justly thought instinctive. Accordingly, we may lay it down as a general statement, that while the appetites and some other animal sensations imply a feeling of want ; in- stinct, in distinction from them, is the principle which leads to their gratification. Some have thought, that there are instinctive feelings of a higher kind, than those, which lead men to relieve their animal wants ; such as the feelings, or rather passions of fear and anger, the desires of wealth and society, of knowledge and power, also our benevolent and sympathet- ic feelings. Some of these supposed instinctive tenden- cies deserve consideration. §. 386. Of the desire of society, considered as an instinctive feeling. The desire of society has been reckoned among the in- stinctive principles of our nature. This, we imagine, can- not be" be done without violence to the usual acceptation of language. An instinctive principle always has a partic- ular object in view, and is borne forward to that particu- lar object without being counteracted. The desire of so- ciety is natural, and is greatly promoted by the circum- stances of our situation. Men find themselves dependent OF INSTINCTS. 451 on each other ; and their enjoyment and security being promoted by entering into society, they are of course led to seek it. Nevertheless it is true, if the mother flee into the wilderness, and nourish her child apart from all other human beings, he will grow up wild, untractable, and like the son of Hagar, " his hand will be against every man's hand." Although he feels lonely and desolate, and there is a void within him, which nothing but society can fill, he continues in solitude, until his fears are subdued, or his necessities compel him to seek associates. This would not be the case if the desire of society were instinctive, in the common acceptation of that term. We may, there- fore, call it a propensity, but not an instinct ; a natural, but not an invariable or mechanical tendency. §. 3£7. Of the desire of knowledge and of power, considered as instinctive feelings. The desire of knowledge has also been set up, as an instinctive feeling. Men are undoubtedly led to seek knowledge, both because it is natural, and because they are unable to do without it. But having acquked so much of it as answers for their present turn, most men are quite satisfied with that. They do not find in themselves a strong, definite, and unappeasable tendency to make further ac- quisitions, which would be the case, if the desire of know- ledge were instinctive. Similar objections may be made to the admission of the desire of power, as an instinctive principle. The passion is strong ; it makes its appearance at a very early period ; and if there be ground for consid- ering it a natural passion, it is not, from that circumstance merely, to be considered an instinct. Jt ought to be con- sidered also, that this feeling, however early it may exist hid and nestling in the heart, is brought forward and cher- ished by the circumstances of our condition. Man feels himself in want of various conveniences and enjoyments; he imagines, if he had power, he could procure them; but without it, he is unable to. He seeks power, therefore, in various ways, as a means of securing what he imagines, although perhaps very erroneously, the highest degree of happiness. 458 OF INSTINCTS. Similar views will hold in respect to the benevolent and sympathetic feelings ; and also in regard to gratitude, fear, anger and other passions. But forming, as they appear to, a prominent and even an elementary part of the constitu- tion of human nature, they have not that precise and in- flexible adaptation to particular ends, which would enti- tle them to be termed instincts. Instinct, (whatever the mode or the degree of its exis- tence in men,) is particularly a subject of interesting in- quiry in the inferiour animal creation. It is not only their law, but their protection, without which they could not exist. In examining the intellectual economy of the hu- man species, we find other principles of action, and such, as from their nature and important results, more strongly arrest our attention, than that part of the human constitu- tion, which has claims to be called instinctive. §. 388. Marks of difference between instinct and reason. There are some characteristical differences between instinct and reason, worthy to be noticed. (1) Of these one is, that instinct requires no previous instruction. While reason expands and gathers strength by slow degrees, advancing in childhood, and still advancing in mature age, instinct may be said to be always full-grown, always perfect: Accordingly it has been observed, that a bird, which has always been confined in a cage, will build, when suitable materials are furnished it, a nest precisely similar to those of its own kind in the woods. It places with the greatest ingenuity the sticks, leaves, and clay of its frail dwelling, without going through a long process of previous training, and without incurring a debt to others for their assistance. (2) Another ground of difference is, that instinct is more accurate in its results, than reason. We have ref- erence here to the adaptation of means to an end ; and, consequently, the observation will apply only to those ca- ses, where both instinct and reason are employed in per- forming the same or similar things. A man may build his house too high or too low ; he may lay the foundation well OF INSTINCTS. 453 or ill ; but in general there is no mistake in the construc- tion of a bird's nest, or of the cells of a bee. Reason, in the adaptation of means to an end, is liable to a thousand er- rours ; but in instinct there is a sort of infallibility. The construction of a honey-comb indicates the greatest accu racy ; the cells are all regular hexagons ; a form, which permits them all to be equal and similar, without any use- less interstices; and for skill and precision throughout, it almost defies imitation. But this is the work of instinct. Again, instinct is limited, reason is always progres- sive. However successful instinct may be in conducting its possessor to a particular end, its power is evidently lim- ited to that particular purpose. It is an impulse, implant- ed by the Creator, which carries forward the agent prompt- ly and unerringly to one end, and one only. It can oper- ate, it can be felt no further. But reason, although more liable to err, has a wider range ; it is applicable to a far greater variety of purposes ; and hardly having an exist- ence at first, it ultimately embraces the universe. §. 389. Of intellectual power in animals. Instinct is found frequently in brutes, seldom in men ; it operates very extensively among the former, in u very limited degree in the latter. So that when we consider the origin of this principle, as being directly from the Su- preme Being, we can almost subscribe to the maxim, Deus est brutorum anima. In connection with the subject of instinct in the inferiour animals, it is natural to take this opportunity to say something of the indications, which they give, of intellectual power. While they are highly furnished with instincts, they are not without some things, analogous to traits of intellect in the human race. Hel- vetius thought, that the superiority of intellect in man is to be ascribed solely to difference in corporeal organiza- tion, and to the influence of some adventitious circumstan- ces in his outward condition.* No doubt, there are advan- tages, in the conformation of the human system, for the exercise of intellectual power ; but the question is not so *See the work entitled De L'Esprit, Discourse I, Note (a.) 57 454 OF INSTINCTS. much what brutes might be with another, as what they actually are, with their present form. ( 1 ) Animals possess the power of association. This is im- plied in their possessing memory, as association is a princi- pal element in that complex mental state. Their associa- tions, however, are chiefly those of contiguity in time and place ; but they are tenacious, and not easily altered. It is chiefly by availing themselves of this circumstance, that men are able to acquire and retain their dominion over them. (2) The inferiour animals, as already intimated, have memory ; and it would seem from some facts, that some of them have possessed this power in a remarkable degree. This is seen in the readiness, with which they retrace ob- jects in an inverted order, as when a dog or horse returns by a road, over which he has passed only once, and at a considerable time distant. (3) Animals are thought by many to have the power of reasoning in a small degree. — Dogs and bears are taught to dance and tumble by rewards for their obedience, and by chastisements for the contrary. They are supposed in such cases to reason in this way. "If I obey, 1 shall be caressed and fed ; if I do not, I shall be beaten ; it is, therefore, better to obey ;" a regular syllogism. But all this, some will say, can be otherwise accounted for ; viz., Obedience is associated with an idea of pleasure, and re- fusal to obey with an idea of pain. When this association is strong, the animal may be led to do what is imposed upon him without any logical deduction. But then it should be remembered, that association holds a very con- spicuous place in reasoning. Mr. Locke thought, that brutes can reason, but in so doing are limited to particu- lar ideas, not having the power of forming general or ab- stract ideas. Further, animals have many or all of the passions, which are common among men, as anger, pride, revenge, grati- tude. Some of them are capable of an attachment to men. A man will sooner cast off and injure his friend, than a dog betray a kind master. But there is no decisive evi- OP INSTINCTS. 455 deuce, that they are influenced by moral impressions, or that they can discern between good and evil in conduct. §. 390. Actions from instinct not moral actions. If men were guided in all their actions by instinct, they would be no longer moral, but necessary agents. They would be urged forward with such directness and force, that, while they infallibly obeyed, they could claim no merit for obedience. This is true, if we do not admit fear, ambition, avarice, benevolence, and the like, to be instinctive ; and there are very few, who will not deny them the character of instincts in the sense, in which we usually apply that term to animals. In order that man may be accountable, it seems to be necessary, that good and evil, that right and wrong should be set before him, with a liberty of choosing between them. When this is the case, there are motives influen- cing him to pursue one course, and opposite considera- tions operating upon him to pursue another : and his mor- al rectitude, his merit or demerit will be known by the choice, which he makes under such circumstances. But in pure instincts there is no balancing of motives in this way ; and, consequently, no accountability, and no praise and blame. CHAPTER THIRTY FOURTH, THE WILL. §. 391. Of what is meant by the will or the power of the will. J. he human mind, amid its intricate and multiplied varieties of action, ever remains the same and indivisible- Varieties of action do not necessarily imply a want of uni- ty in the principle, from which they originate ; the intel- lectual principle, therefore, is but one, although wonder- fully multiplied in its modes of application. Finding the mind, acting in various ways and producing various results, it is in reference to these diversities of action and of results, that we are led to speak of its powers or susceptibilities. Among these powers is the Will. Hence the will may be denned the mental power or susceptibility of exercising choice; a susceptibility, which we are necessarily led to ascribe to man or rather the mind of man, seeing him, as we constantly do, pursuing one course and avoiding another, acting on one plan and re- jecting another, accepting and refusing, befriending and opposing. §. 392. Of volition and its objects. In remarking on the subject of the Will, we have fre- quent occasion to speak of volition; a term, which is not used to express the susceptibility itself, but the putting forth or exercise of it. Hence volition may be describ- ed, as the determination of the mind to do or not to do ; or it may be expressed more briefly by saying, that it is the determination or act of choice.- It would, therefore. THE WILL. 437 Seem, that,"in every act of the will, there must be at least two objects, in reference to which the exercise of it is put forth. These objects, (whatever we may suppose them to be,) are the subjects of the mind's contemplation ; and it gives to one the preference over the others. This, which will be found agreeable to each one's internal experience, seems to be fully involved in the common use of the term?, having relation to this subject; volition" according to pre- vailing use always implying choice or choosing. Now there must evidently be an object of this choice, which the term, as it is ordinarily used, is employed to express. To will without willing something, or, what is the same thing, t<> choose without choosing something, would be much the same as to remember without any object ; that is, without any thing being remembered. Therefore every act of the will, (that is, every volition,) has an object. But certainly it is not agreeable to common usage to speak of choosing or choice, when there is only one object before us, and when of course we could accept of no other ; however glad- ly we should do it, if opportunity were given. §. 303. Of the difference between willing and desiring. In view of what has been said, it is obvious, that to will. or to exercise volition is essentially the same in its nature as to desire ; the latter mode of expression, as well as the former, implying a comparison, a preference, a choice. We may safely assert, it is the common sense of mankind, that no person desires an object, and at the same time has no preference or choice in respect to it, although it may not always be very obvious with what other objects it is compared. But admitting, that the feeling, expressed by desire, and that, expressed by volition, are in their nature the same ; still there is a difference in the circumstances, under which they ovist. That is ; The common usage of the language calls the same feeling, when existing under certain circumstances, desire, to which it gives the name of volition, when existing under other circumstances. So that the distinction between the two is merely an inci- dental one, having its foundation rather in the necessities 458 THE WILL. and forms of speech, than in the constitution and exerci- ses of the mind. Accordingly the difference between the two seems to be this ; When the desirable thing is so pla- ced within our reach and under such circumstances as to render our preference operative, we use the verb to will; but when this is not the case, whether owing to the nature of the object itself or to the counteracting influence of other objects, we commonly use the verb to desire. Hence it comports with the use of the language to say, we will to walk, but we desire to fly ; we will to build a house, but we desire to create a world ; we will to sail from Calais to London, but we desire to sail from Calais to the peak of Chimborazo, or to the mountains in the moon. Agreeably to these views, the volition and the desire can never be directly opposed to each other ; although they may be virtually co-existent, and, therefore, may be relatively opposed. A great number of attainable objects, which are successively, or perhaps simultaneously, con- templated by the mind, may all appear desirable ; but vo- lition can exist only in respect to one of them. There can be only one desire under these circumstances, which can be regarded as the greatest, strongest, or efficient desire ; and this, the use of the language authorizes us to designate, as the volition. When, therefore, it is said, that a man has a desire to build a house, but wills, or has a volition not to, it is to be explained in this way. There is in this case a co-exist- ence, either actually or virtually, of desires or preferences. These desires, possessing relative degrees of strength, un- doubtedly counteract or oppose each other ; but it is a relative, and not a direct opposition. Unquestionably the building of the house is a desirable object ; but the mon- ey, which is to be drawn out of his coffers to do it, is an object still dearer. He desires the one, but has still stronger desires for the other. Now as we call the pre- vailing desire, in respect to things within our reach, voli- tion ; it may be truly said, he desires a house, but wills not to have one ; that is, in the conflict of desires, one is stronger than another. THE WILL. 459 §. 394. Nature and kinds of motives. As volition "is found to exist only in certain circum- stances,- it may, therefore, be considered an effect, and, consequently, must have a cause, which gives rise to it ; using the terra, cause, in the sense heretofore explained, viz. as implying merely a regular and constant anteced- ence. The causes of volition are motives ; so that a mo- tive may be defined to be any thing, which moves or ex- cites the mind in putting forth volition. Without motives, that is, without some ground or reason of our choice, volition would never be exercised, and, consequently, there would never be voluntary action, since a voluntary action implies, and is preceded by volition. Motives, in reference to their tendency to cause voli- tion are spoken of, as either weak or strong. That motive, which has a less degree of previous tendency to move the will, or, what is the same thing, appears the less inviting, as it is presented to the view of the mind, is called the weaker motive. On the contrary, that motive, which ap- pears to the mind the most inviting, and, therefore, has the greater tendency to move the will, is the stronger motive. The strength of a motive is found to vary in two ways or from two causes. (1) — It will be found to vary, first, not only with the particular object, which is before the mind, but also with changes in its attendant circumstances. Many things, which once appeared eminently desirable, and strongly influenced our volitions, appear less desirable, and have less power over us, in consequence of being ac- cidentally associated with other things. In other instan- ces, the effect is directly the reverse, and the motive be- comes stronger from the same cause. (2) Things, that are placed before the view of the mind, have their tenden- cy to move the will increased or diminished according to the nature and circumstances of the mind, which views them. The mind does not always continue the same, any more than the shifting scenes of the material world around it. It is continually calling into exercise susceptibilities, which had hitherto lain dormant : giving them new degrees 460 THE WILL. of strength or novelties of combination. Consequently the same thing will appear differently to different individu- als, and also to the same individual at different times. §. 395. Motives considered in reference to their origin. Motives, in reference to their origin, may be divided into two classes, internal, and external. By the in- ternal, we mean those, which are connected with our physical organization, such as hunger, thirst, and bodily pains and enjoyments ; and also our passions or affections, whether good or evil. Accordingly in all languages, people speak of being impelled, of being moved, or excit- ed to action in these ways. By the external, we mean such as can be traced to external causes, and exist in something without us. All external objects, which please or disgust us, operate upon us as motives. It is true, they influence the will through the medium of the emotions and passions ; but as the influence exercised may be traced to them, as the ultimate subjects of it, they may properly be termed the motive. As all external objects, which are not utterly indifferent, affect the will more or less, it is useless to attempt an enumeration of the motives from this source. In what way it happens ; that certain appetites and passions, or that certain external objects, which appear to us pleasing and desirable, affect the will, and cause volition, cannot be explained. Nor can we give an explanation of any other instance of cause and ef- fect ; but of the truth of the fact, that the will is influenc- ed by means of them, there is no room to doubt. §. 396. Of the general nature of human liberty. Volitions are always determined by the strongest mo- tives. In other words, the will always is, as the greatest apparent good, or as what appears most agreeable. To say otherwise would imply the direct contradiction, that the mind chooses, what it does not choose, and likes what it dislikes. Our voluntary ad ions correspond to our voli- tions ; that is, the action will be as the volition is ; and yet men under the circumstances *tated. having their volitions THE WILL. 4G1 in perfect correspondence with the motive, and the action agreeing with the volition, are justly said to act freely, or with liberty. Btit moral liberty, we apprehend, is not rightly considered a quality or property of man, analo- gous to his other mental and physical qualities, but a privilege. If this be a correct notion, liberty, in its full extent, is the privilege of acting according to our wishes, without being subject to any restraint. This definition coincides very nearly with the concise explanation of it by the un- learned, who commonly say, that liberty consists in choos- ing and doing, as one pleases. It will, indeed, be said, that there is an indissoluble relation between the voli- tion and the motive. This is true. But the circum- stance, that nothing can have the character of a motive in- dependently of our feelings, and that the efficient or strong- est motive is never at variance with them, takes away from this fixed and inflexible relation the attribute of constraint. § 397. Human liberty of two kinds. Liberty of the will. Liberty, then, may be predicated of man in two res- pects, viz., liberty of will, and liberty of external action. As to the will, it may be said, that it always has liber- ty, is always free, using the terms in accordance with the above definition. When a person, looking upon a num- ber of objects, makes choice of one in preference to an- other, he does it agreeably to his wish or inclination, and has the highest possible liberty; we can conceive of no greater. As, therefore, there is an inseparable con- nection between the volition, and the preference or the strongest inclination of the heart, (the latter always being implied in the former,) it is safe to assert, that there is no constraint on the volition, and that the will is always free. In support of the fact, that the volition, whatever its rela- tion to the motive, is in the same direction with the pre- ponderance of inclination, an appeal may be made to the common experience of men ; and it can hardly be doubt- ed, that on examination every one will find it confirmed by what tak^s place in himself. If they d© not. find this 58 et 5, p. 99, 2d. ed.) THE WILL. 163 ro the subject of it ; but to that power, which forced the subject to act contrary to his own wishes. §, 399. Of the liberty of the Supreme Being. We are so constituted, that we will or exercise choice, in reference to the last result of an examination of the subjects or objects, which are placed before us. Such results, (that is, the final views the mind has of whatever it contemplates,) are the foundation of the preference, which we have seen to be involved in every act of volition. Nor can we suppose this to be otherwise than it should be. It is the great excellency of our nature, and the con- summation of our freedom, that the mind does not remain unmoved under such circumstances ; and that it is not without a preference, when it has clearly before itself a view of the highest good or evil. Our condition in this respect seems to be essentially the same with that of the Supreme Being himself. It is evident, that there is no being more free and perfect than God ; and yet he is inevitably governed in all his doings by what, in the great range of events, is wisest and best. His fixed and invariable principles of action are wisdom and goodness ; and whatever he does, is in accordance with them. So that it may be said, that the Deity him- self has his laws ; and surely the weak mind of man can- not presume to be more free and unrestrained, than that of the God, who made it. Any other liberty than this cannot well be supposed to exist. " If (says Mr. Locke) to break loose from the conduct of reason, and to want that restraint of examination and judgment, that keeps us from doing and choosing the worse, be liberty, madmen and fools are the only free men. Yet I think nobody would choose to be mad, for the sake of such liberty, but he that is mad already." §. 400. Evidence from observation of the connection between motives and volitions. There is proof from observation, that our volitions are influenced by motives, or that our actions will be agreeably 464 THE WILL. to what we consider the highest good. That is, in our in- tercourse with men, we cannot help observing, that they act precisely, as they would do, if this were trie case ; and, therefore, we conclude it to be so. So evident is it from what we observe around us, that the will, as well as the imagination, and memory, and other mental powers, has its laws, as to have elicited the remark, that a certain reg- ular order may be traced in the conduct of men, analo- gous to the regular course, which we observe in the phys- ical world. It can be pronounced, that men will act in a particular way in given circumstances with hardly less confidence, than that trees will grow in a given situation. So that there is a general course of nature applicable to the mind of man, as well as to external material things ; and not less applicable to the moral, than the intellectual part of his spiritual constitution. But if we take away the influence of motives, if we say that men are not governed by what -appears to them the highest good ; then this reg- ularity is marred, the moral order and beauty of nature are broken up, and it will be impossible to form any opin- ion of the probable course of men, although we may be well acquainted with the minutest circumstances of their situation. §. 401. Of encouragements to the making 1 of moral efforts. The fact, that men are influenced and directed by the motives set before them, is an encouragement in the ma- king of moral efforts, and in the use of such means, as are adapted to reclaim the vicious, or to strengthen habits of virtue. When men go astray, what can we do more in our attempts at reclaiming them, than apply promises, threat- enings, and exhortations ? We address these to them as molivts, expecting that they will be received, and have their influence as such. These are the means, which we em- ploy, and we find that they meet with success. But liber- ate the will from all particular tendencies and law ; show that we are utterly unable to predict the nature of its acts under all circumstances whatever, and then there is no en- couragement to apply means for the attainment of moral THE WILL. 465 ends ; there is no encouragement to moral efforts of any kind. When this is the case, we can never tell what is suitable to be addressed to men, in order to induce them to change their course of conduct. §. 402. Of motives considered as modifications of our feelings- The doctrine we propose is, that there is a correspon- dence between the volition and the motive ; and yet the will is free. They sustain a fixed and inflexible relation ; and at the same time the intellect experiences no constraint. And this freedom, which is such a source of just compla- cency and of happiness to man, is consistent not only with the superintending providence of God, but is even analo- gous to the freedom of his own divine character. But how can this be ? In what way can it be shown, that freedom can be consistent with such a fixed and unvarying relation as is stated to exist ? The answer is, that the volition, although it sustains the relation of an effect to the motive which is its cause, always implies, as has been stated, a preference, a choice, the fulfilment of its own pleasure. But then again we are asked, How does it happen, that the motive is never at variance with the internal inclination or choice ? This inquiry leads us to consider more par- ticularly the nature of motives. It is very obvious, that the qualities, which render mo- tives operative and effective are as various as the exercises of the intellect itself. Although they may be supposed more often than otherwise to hold up to the mind some- thing agreeable, yet they are sometimes invested with qual- ities of disgust or of dread. The origin of these qualities, of whatever kind they may be, we attribute to the mind. This is their source. In respect to that class of motives, which was termed Internal, there is no room to doubt of the correctness of this view. Hunger and thirst, and oth- er appetites ; benevolence and sympathy and revenge, and other emotions and passions operate upon us and direct the will. By means of the will, they move and control our ac- tions. But evidently this does not happen in consequence of any thing extraneous to ourselves and out of our con- 466 THE WILL, stitution. The motive, which orders the will, and which leads to action, is within ; it is in those feelings of hunger and of sympathy, &c, which have been mentioned. As to motives of this kind, therefore, if there be any con- straint, it must be in our own breasts, in ourselves, in the natural impulses of our own intellectual economy. But it is evident, that such constraint as this cannot be at va- riance with any rational idea of the highest liberty. §. 403. Further remarks on the same subject. But motives, as we have had occasion to see, are of two kinds, Internal and External. If then we look again at external motives, we shall be led to the same result. Mo- tives of this kind are such as can be traced to external causes, and exist in something without us. All objects without us may, under different circumstances and in diff- erent degrees, exist as motives. Our first remark is, it is impossible for us to regard any object or action external to us, as having a character, ex- cept it be in reference to those feelings, which are excited in our own minds by noticing such object or action. That is, if they excited in us no feeling, they would not ap- pear to us to possess either beauty or ugliness, whether of a natural or moral kind. This opinion has been stated and illustrated in part, in the chapters on Beauty and Sub- limity ; and must be plain to all. Abstracted, therefore, from all those internal emotions and passions, of which they are the cause, all objects and actions without are equally good and bad, equally beautiful and ugly, equally sublime and ludicrous, equally indifferent. It is our own feel- ings, therefore, reflected back upon all external objects of whatever kind, which infuse into them their qualities of unworthiness or of excellence. This character of excel- lence or of the opposite, these pleasing or displeasing at- tributes in their turn operate upon the mind. §, 404. Instances of the acquired or associated character of external motives. It would be no difficult task to adduce instances, illus- lustrating and confirming the above views. As an ex- THE WILL. 4Sf qmpie, B war is announced in Europe, and the merchant winds up his accounts, and detains his vessels at home. The war is his motive for so doing. Subsequently there is a false report of war in Europe, which he believes to be true, and he pursues the same course as before. In both these cases the internal feeling or belief, combined with his fears, gives to the motive, as the war would be consid- ered, its whole effect. In the latter case, it constitutes it entirely as the reported war is only a fiction. Again, riches, whether in the form of lands or of gold and silver,or in any other form, constitute a powerful motive. But it is in vain to presume, that the common dust on which we tread, or even the brightest masses of ore it con- tains, inherit and possess in themselves a power to keep men constantly in action, to carry them from land to land, and from sea to sea. It is the mind itself, which invests them with attributes, that render them so effective. Men see in them the means of the enjoyments they covet ; the means of influence among their fellows ; the source of honour and power. So that if riches are one of the most efficient mo- tives, that can be presented to the human heart, it is the heart, the soul, which makes them so. Since you have only to place the man, who desired them so much, on his death-bed ; you have only to show him, that his gilded heaps can no longer purchase honour, influence, enjoyment, not even an hour of life, not even exemption from a single pain, and then riches are no longer a motive ; he turns from them with disgust ; he regards them as little as the chaff, which the wind scatters away. All motives, therefore, are, either directly or indirectly, our own feelings ; at least nothing can have the character of a motive or be called such, independently of the feel- ings. And, hence, to assert, that the soul is governed by motives, is much the same as to say, that it is governed by itself. It is like the citizens of a free republic; it is not without law, but it obeys no enactments, but such as arr agreeable to its own rlmipp. 468 THE WILL. §. 405. Connection between liberty and moral agency or accoun- tableness. The subject of this chapter, involving as it does that of liberty, is one of no small interest. The interest taken in it has no doubt been much enhanced fron the circum- stance of its having been supposed by many, that the freedom of the will constitutes man a moral or accounta- ble agent. Undoubtedly freedom of the will is requisite to moral agency ; there is no accountableness, no merit or demerit without it. But the powers of association, of me- mory, of belief, and of reasoning are equally necessary. And yet neither these susceptibilities, nor that condition or privilege of mental action, called freedom, constitute moral agency of themselves, however indispensable they may be to its existence. The brute creation possess the powers of association and of memory, and probably the reasoning power ; and as to liberty, they obviously have us much of it as man has. They lie down and rise up ; they go to this place or to tha,t, choosing their abode on the rock or in the desert, as it suits them ; they like and dislike ; they are continually in action ; but they are not naturally subject to a greater degree of constraint either internal or external, than the human species. But brutes are not supposed to be moral or accountable. Note. No subject in Mental Philosophy has been more frequently and more ably discussed than that of the Will. See, among oth«r writers and treatises of greater or less value, Des Cartes, Principia, Pt. I, §. §. 39,40, 41 ; Hobbe's Letter about Liberty and Necessity with Obser- vations on the same by a Prelate of the Church of Eng- land. Chubb's Reflections on Natural Liberty ; Papers of Clarke and Leibnitz, V. §.§. 8, 9, 15, &c. ; Clarke's Discourse concerning the Being and Attributes of God, prop, x ; Essays on the Principles of Morality and Natur- al Religion, (Lond. Ed. 1758, anonymous ;) Archb. King's Essay on the Origin of Evil, ch. V ; Edwards on the Will : Priestley's Philosophical Necessity : Locke's Essay, chap. on Power. CHAPTER THIRTY FIFTH. MORAL SUSCEPTIBILITY OR CONSCIENCE $. 406. Of the accountableness or moral nature of man, JjIan is accountable to his Creator ; for accounta- bleness implies a superiour, and evidently the highest claims to superintendence and government exist in the Su- preme Being. When he does right, he is approved ; when he does wrong, he is condemned. To say that he is a mor al being, is in effect the same as to say, that he is accoun- table, or that he is capable of doing right or wrong. It is in this respect he differs, (and the degree of difference is great in itself and incalculable in its results.) from the forms of life around him, from the beast of the field and from the bird of heaven. His accountableness gives him a new character ; it imparts io his natural existence, which he has in common with the brutes, a superadded and no- bler existence, which he has in common with angels. It is necessarily involved and implied in the moral character of man, that some things are right and others wrong, that some are good and others evil. Moral good and evil are also expressed by the terms, merit and de- merit, virtue and vice. It is proposed in this chapter to make some inquiries into the ground or foundation of these distinctions. §. 407. Virtue and vice, merit and demerit in agents, not in actions. And in order to clear the way to this inquiry, it is to be noticed, in the first place, that actions, in themselves con- 59 ■i"/0 MORAL SUSCEPTIBILITY. sidered, have no character ; whatever may be the common mode of speaking in respect to them. It is true, that we speak of actions, as good or bad, as virtuous or vicious, as worthy of praise or of censure. But if we analyze our feelings, if we accurately consider what it is, to which we apply these epithets, we shall come to the conclusion, that by actions, as the subjects of moral merit or demerit, is meant the agerit acting. The action is nothing, except so far as it is significant of certain mental qualities ; and, therefore, virtue considered as distinct from the virtuous person, and vice, as distinct from the vicious person, have no existence. There is no virtue or vice, merit or demer- it, aparte rei or independently of the agent, any more than there is a beauty or sublimity of that character. §. 408. True import of the terms, virtue and vice, merit and demerit. And yet it remains to be stated, in what way such terms may be employed consistently with truth, and without causing misconception. Observe then, that certain ac- tions, that is, certain agents in acting, excite in us emo- tions of approval, and others, on the contrary, cause emo- tions of disapprobation. Certain actions, therefore, are made, from our very constitution, to sustain a particular relation to certain emotions or intellectual states. The relation, which exists between actions and emotions of dis- approval, is expressed by the terms, demerit, and vice; the relation, which exists between other actions and emotions of approval, is expressed by the terms, merit, and virtue. Virtue and vice, merit and demerit, therefore, inasmuch as they are the mere relations existing between the thing approved and the approving mind, are evidently nothing self-existing, like the universal essences of the School- men, or those eternal ideas, which have a place in the doctrines of Plato. At most they can only be considered a felt relation ; and, therefore, can never exist abstracted from and independently of the agent. But while we are willing to allow them an existence only as relations, we are ready to concede, that in this sense there is a perma- OR CONSCIENCE. All nent and immutable distinction between them. That is, whatever actions are generally approved by men can nev- er be otherwise than approved by them, while their men- tal constitution remains the same, as at present. On the other hand, whatever actions are generally disapproved, can never be otherwise, while the same constitution re- mains. Vice can never become virtue ; virtue can never become vice. And this interesting truth will appear the more im- pressive, when we consider, that the permanency and im- mutability of the distinction between virtue and vice have their origin in the Supreme Being himself. It is He, that has ordained, that certain actions shall cause certain emo- tions, that some things shall be approved and others not ; it is He, that has instituted the relation, which exists be- tween the deed, which is performed, and the feeling, which responds to it. As he was governed by the highest wisdom in so doing, we may well conclude, that there is a perma- nency in moral distinctions no less lasting, than the di- vine nature. §. 409. Of the existence of a moral susceptibility or conscience. It will be seen, that it has virtually been taken for granted in the preceding section, that there is in man a moral susceptibility or conscience. If there be original feelings of approval or disapproval, as was asserted, there must of course be something in the internal constitution, corresponding to such results. There must be something in the mind, from which they proceed. The effect of this susceptibility in reference to ourselves is, we are con- scious, according as we act one way or another, of an in- ternal sanctioning or condemnation, approval or disappro- val. Its effects, when we are not in action ourselves, but are noticing the conduct of others, is the same ; at some times we approve, at others condemn. Whereas if we were destitute of this susceptibility, (otherwise called con- science,) this very conduct, and these very agents, which have now a moral character so decided, would appear to us utterly indifferent. This susceptibility, therefore, i? in 472 MORAL SUSCEPTIBILITY one sense the great source of moral distinctions, of right and wrong, of merit and demerit, of virtue and vice. That is to say, if we were destitute of the susceptibility, it would be utterly beyond our power to asceitain these important distinctions. Our conscience is the means or instrument, which God has given us to know good from evil, the right and the wrong ; although, as God is the author of our conscience, in Him alone resides the ultimate source or authorship of the moral principles of the universe. God is the ultimate source, and conscience, together with whatever may be considered as its aids or assistan- ces, is the subordinate or secondary source of the laws, by which men are to be controlled. Hence if conscience indicate the will of God in respect to agents and actions, and thus separate what the Divine Mind has pronounced good and evil, it lays the foundation of moral obligation ; it being implied in moral obligation, that we are bound to pursue one course rather than another, to perform that, which is right, and avoid that, which is wrong. §. 410. Of the various opinions respecting the ground of moral obligation. It is not to be concealed, that there has been a want of uniformity on this whole subject. Different writers have explained in different ways both the ultimate source and the developement of moral distinctions. Hence they have necessarily been divided as to the ground of moral obligation. One ascribes it to the moral fitness of things; another finds it in the decisions of reason ; another in ex- pediency, and in the promotion of the public good ; an- other in Revelation. But after hearing these and other solutions of the ground of moral obligation, the question still returns, Why does a regard for the public good, or a belief in Revelation, or the conclusions of reason render it right for me to do a particular action, and wrong not to ? When such a question is put to us, we find ourselves driv- en back upon the feelings of our own hearts. Our Cre- ator, in forming us with a susceptibility of emotions of approval or disapproval, has furnished us with a guide in OR CONSCIENCE. 4/.K the discharge of our duties to Him, to our fellow beings, to ourselves. Without this susceptibility, this inward feel- ing, this conscience, men would experience no regret and compunction even in disobeying the express commands of God himself. Without the susceptibility of moral emo- tions, it would be all the same, whether they regarded or disregarded the most affecting calls of charity and of the public good. Without this, benevolent intercourse would cease ; religious homage would be at an end ; the bonds of society would be loosed and dissolved. The true source, then, of moral obligation is in the natural impulses of the human breast ; in a man's own conscience. It is in this, that we find the origin of the multitude of moral mo- tives, that are continually stirring up men to worthy and exulted enterprises. This is the law, which governs them ; and as it is inseparable from that nature, of which the Su- preme Being is the author, it is the law of God. §. 411. Want of uniformity in our moral judgments. But here some difficulties are to be considered. It has often been objected to the doctrine, which attributes our moral judgments and moral obligation to an original susceptibility, that there is too gieat a want of uniformity in the results of such alleged susceptibility. Dr. Paley seems to have thought, that there is great weight in this objection. His views are given in connection with the following narration, which he has translated from Valerius Maximus.* The father of Caius Toranius had been pro- scribed by the Triumvirate. Caius Toranius, coming over to the interests of that party, discovered to the officers the place, where he concealed himself, and gave them withal a descripti-on, by which they might distinguish his person, when they found him. The old man, more anxious for the fortunes and safety of his son, than about the little, that might remain of his own life, began immediately to inquire of the officers, who seized him, Whether his son was well ? Whether he had done his duty to the satisfaction of hk * Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy, Bit. I, ch. v. 474 MORAL SUSCEPTIBILITY generals ? That son, replied one of the officers, so dear to thy affections, betrayed thee to us ; by his information thou art apprehended and diest. The officer with this struck a poniard to his heart, and the unhappy parent fell, not so much affected by his own fate, as by the means to which he owed it. The advocates of an original susceptibility of mora! emotions maintain, that if this story were related to the most ignorant and degraded Savage, to one, who had been cut off from infancy from intercourse with his fellowmen, he would at once exhibit disapprobation of the conduct of Toranius, and pity and respect for his father. Dr. Paley, inasmuch as he discountenanced the notion of a natural conscience, and of original judgments of virtue and vice, has given, at some length, the arguments of those, who deny this result. Following the suggestions of our own feelings, we cannot help thinking with those, who hold, that the Savage would have sentiments favourable to the father, and against the son ; provided that the Savage were made acquainted with the relation between them, with the nature and degree of the acts of kindness, which are always implied in the history of those, who sustain the parental relation. Unless he were made to understand this, his decision, whatever it might be, would be irrele- vant to the present inquiry. §. 412. Of the objection to conscience drawn from the conduct of the Spartans and of Savages. Dr. Paley and those, who think with him, remind us, that theft, which is punished by most laws, was not unfre- quently rewarded by the laws of Sparta. We are remind-' ed also of the cruelty exercised by Savages upon their prisoners taken in war, and of the appalling fact, that in some countries aged and infirm parents have been cast out by their children, and exposed to a sure and lingering death. Now, in reference to these facts, we readily admit, that, in consequence of some accidental circumstances, moral distinctions have sometimes been neglected or over- ruled in civilized communities. Nor can it be denied, that OR CONSCIENCE. 475 some Savage tribes, debased by want and ignorance, have given instances of injustice and cruelty of the most shock- ing nature. But we cannot readily see, how these few exceptions disprove the general rule ; although they are undoubtedly exceptions to it. The general statement, that men are originally susceptible of moral emotions, is con- firmed by the experience, and testimony, and conduct of millions and millions of mankind. The great mass of the human race, amid all the differences of climate and gov- ernment, and local institutions and observances, pronounce, with the most evident uniformity, on the excellence of some actions, and on the iniquity of others. Reasoning, therefore, in this case, as we do in others, we cannot admit the discordant voice of some depraved individual, or the accidental moral obliquities, which have at times pervaded some civilized communities, or the testimony of the savage and ignorant inhabitants of a remote island, as disproving what is evidently the unanimous declaration of all the world besides. They prove, that the original susceptibil- ity of moral emotions may be weakened and perverted, but that is all. They show, that conscience may be misguid- ed by accidental circumstances, or that its influence may be blunted and annulled, but they are vainly brought to show, that conscience has no existence. §. 413. Conscience sometimes perverted by passion. Admitting the fact, that the moral susceptibility may •sometimes be blunted and perverted, something more seems to be necessary, viz., That we should briefly state under what circumstances, or from what causes, this takes place. And, in the first place, the due exercise of this susceptibility, or what is otherwise termed conscience, may be perverted, when a person is under the influence of vio- lent passions. -The moral emotion, which under other circumstances would have arisen, has failed to arise in the present instance, because the soul is intensely and wholly taken up with another species of feeling. But after the present passion has subsided, the power of moral judg- ments returns : the person, who hns beon the subject of 476 MORAL SUSCEPTIBILITY such violence of feeling, looks with horror on the deeds, which he has committed. So that the original suscepti- bility, which has been contended for, cannot justly be said to cease to exist in this instance ; although its due exer- cise is prevented by the accidental circumstance of inor- dinate passion. Further ; those, who imagine, that there are no perma- nent moral distinctions, because they are not regarded in moments of extreme passion, would do well to consider, that at such times persons are unable rightly to apprehend any truths whatever. A murderer, when drawing the blade from the bosom of his victim, probably could not tell the quotient of sixteen divided by four, or any oth- er simple results in numbers ; but certainly his inability to perceive them under such circumstances does not an- nul numerical powers and distinctions. Why then should the same inability take away moral distinctions? §. 414. Complexity in actions a source of confusion in our moral judgments. A second reason, why men, although they are under the guidance of an original susceptibility, do not always form the same judgments of actions, is to be found in their complexity. We have already seen, that actions are nothing of themselves, independently of the agent. In forming moral judgments, therefore, we are to look at .the agent ; and we are to regard him, not only as willing and bringing to pass certain effects, but we are to consider him also as the subject of certain desires and intentions; and we are unable rightly to estimate these, without taking into view various attendant circumstances. In some cases the intention is obvious ; and in these the judgment is read- ily formed. But in other cases, the results are complex : they are a mixture of good and evil ; and hence arises a difficulty in ascertaining the true intention and design of the agent. When different individuals are called upon to judge of an instance of this kind, they will be not unlikely to give their attention to different circumstances, or they nay have different views of the same circumstances, con- OR CONSCIENCE. 477 sidered as indications of feeling and intention. This being the case, the judgments, which they will pass, will in effect, be pronounced upon different things, inasmuch as they will have such difference of views. Hence in a multitude of actions, there will be sufficient reason for a diversity of moral sentiments, where by superficial observers a perfect uniformity may have been expected. These remarks throw some light upon the supposed approbation of theft among the Spartans. This people were trained up by their political institutions to regard property as of little value ; their lands were equally divided ; they ate at public tables ; and the great end of all their civil regulations w&« to render the citizens athletic, active, patient, and brave. Every thing else was considered subordinate. The per- mission, which was given to the Spartan lads to steal, was a part of the public regulations. It was a sort of tax, which the citizens voluntarily imposed upon themselves, in order to encourage vigilance, endurance, and address in the younger part of the community ; and hence, when the/ were detected immediately after the theft, they were se- verely punished for deficiency of skill. Accordingly the theft, which was permitted and approved by the Spartans, was a very different thing from what goes under that name with us. The mere act may have been the same, but there was no correspondence in the results and attendant cir- cumstances, and in the degree of evil intention. Simi- lar inquiries in other instances will go far in explaining m:mv apparent deviations from the permanent distinctions between vice and virtue, and will reduce the number of -cases of supposed want of uniformity in moral sentiments. §. 415. Influence of early associations on moral judgments. Our moral judgments, in the third place, are some- times perplexed and perverted by means of early associa- tions. The principle of association does not operate upon the moral capacity directly ; it operates indirectly, with considerable influence. When a particular action is to be judged of, it calls up, in the mind of different indi- viduals, different and distinct series of accessory cirGum- 60 478 MORAL SUSCEPTIBILITY stances. This difference in the tendencies of the suggest- ing principle can hardly fail to have considerable effect in modifying the sentiment of approbation or disapproba- tion, resulting from the consideration of any particular action Accordingly when vices are committed by near friends, by a brother, or a parent, they do not excite in us such ab- horrence, as in other cases. Our prepossessions in favour of the persons, who have committed the crime, suggest a thousand circumstances, which seem to us to alleviate its aggravation. We frame for them a multitude of plausi- ble excuses, which we should not have thought of doing, had it not been for the endearments and intercourse of our previous connection. Savage life also gives us an il- lustration of the views now expressed. Owing to the pe- culiar situation of those in that state and the consequent early associations, a factitious and exaggerated impor- tance is attached to mere courage ; and gentleness, equa- nimity, and benevolence, are, as virtues, proportionally depressed. §. 416. Illustration of the principle of the preceding 1 section. As the second cause of discrepancies in the decisions of conscience was illustrated by remarks on the alleged approval of theft among the Spartans, we may here give a similar illustration of what has just been laid down as the third cause of the results complained of. In a late Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, undertaken by order of the United States, various interesting facts were as- certained concerning the Savage tribes, through which the party passed. Among other things they learnt that the Omawhaws*, a tribe of some note, dwelling a little distance from the river Missouri, are wanting in respect to their old people, and that they regard them as useless bur- dens to the community. When the aged go out on a hun- ting party, or on warlike expeditions against an enemy, they are sometimes left under a hastily erected shelter ; * Long's Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, Vol. I, chs. x, xi. OR CONSCIENCE. 47.9 and are thus permitted to perish after consuming the scan- ty stock of provisions, with which they are furnished. Here we see the influence of early associations. The Oniawhaws are taught, even from the cradle, to attach their chief honour to active bravery, to feats in battle and a- chievements in hunting. And they transfer, (as a Sav- age would be likely to.) the discredit of moral and physi- cal debility in other cases to that of old age. Encouraged by the old people themselves, they carry these views so far, that when through want of provisions some of the tribe or of the party must die, the lot inevitably falls on the aged instead of the young. But we hold, that this fact does not prove these Savages destitute of natural con- science. It does not appear, that they expose their old men to death in this way before the exhaustion of their provisions, or that they leave them without feelings of re- gret, or that they do it against the choice and consent of the aged sufferers themselves. Such being the circum- stances, under which they are exposed, the most that can justly be said, is, that the feelings of nature, (for they love, although they do not respect and honour the aged,) are made to bow to the exigencies of their situation. It may appear, that they have a wrong or perverted conscience in permitting the sacrifice of the aged in preference to that of the young, but it by no means follows, that they have no conscience at all. Especially as they are described as being hospitable, so far as they have any thing to give ; courteous and respectful in their general intercourse ; af- fectionate in their families ; and not wanting in justice in the ordinary distribution and management of what little they possess. While we contend, therefore, for an original suscepti- bility of moral emotions, it must be admitted, that its deci- sions are sometimes perverted by the violence of momen- tary passions; the uniformity of its decisions is interrupted also by complexity in the action and a complication of good and evil in the results ; and some partial and erro- neous judgments may be attributed to the influence of as- sociation. To these causes are to be ascribed those in- 480 MORAL SUSCEPTIBILITY stances of striking deviation from moral rectitude, which the opposers of an original susceptibility of moral emo- tions are fond of bringing up. Those instances, we ap- prehend, do not disprove the existence of the susceptibili- ty, but merely show, that it is sometimes liable to perver- sions. §. 417. Of enlightening the conscience. It clearly follows from the views, which have been ta- ken, that the moral susceptibility will operate with the greater readiness and efficiency, in proportion as knowledge of ourselves and of our relations to other beings is increased. And the knowledge to be acquired with this end may be stated in some particulars. (1) As the Being, who gave us life, has given us conscience, and, con- sequently, could not intend, that conscience should act in opposition to himself, it seems to be an indispensable duty, that men should be acquainted with his character. His character is made known to us in those works, of which He is the author, and in the Scriptures. If we have right views of the Supreme Being, and of the re- lation, which we sustain to Him, our conscience will infallibly approve what he has enjoined, and disapprove what he has forbidden. (2) Inasmuch as it results from the relation, which we sustain to the Supreme Be- ing, that correct decisions of conscience are not, and cannot be at variance with his laws, but will agree with them, whenever they are made known, it follows, that all should be made acquainted with the moral and reli- gious precepts, which he has communicated to us. To every mind, that has proper views of the self-existence of God and of our dependence upon Him, it will be enough to justify any action, that He has said it. The mere dis- closure of his will cannot but render, in all cases, an ac- tion approved in the sight of conscience, whatever may be our ignorance of the consequences connected with it. Hence, in order to have a right conscience, it is exceed- ingly important, we should know not only what God is in himself, but every thing, which he has expressly com- manded. .OR CONSCIENCE. 4*Y (3) As all duties, which truly result from the relations we sustain to our fellow beings, are expressions of the will of God, who is the Creator of all around us as well as of ourselves, we should earnestly inquire what those rela- tions and duties are. We are to inquire what duties devolve upon us in respect to our immediate circle, to the poor and the sick, to our neighbourhood, and to so- ciety in general. Our feelings in respect to the perform- ance of such duties cannot be so clear and vivid, if we exclude the Supreme Being from our consideration of them, as they would otherwise be. A knowledge of the will of God, from whatever other source it is obtained, will tend to guide and strengthen the inward moral feeling. (4) Since the decisions of conscience are often ex- ceedingly perverted by the undue influence of passion, men should both guard against the recurrence of passion- ate feelings in general; and when at any time they have reason to suspect themselves of being under the influence of such passion, the decision on the merits or demerits of any particular action ought to be put off to a more favour- able period. Nor are we less to guard against prejudices, — the prejudices in favour of friends, and against those, whom we may imagine to have injured us, the prejudices of sects, political parties, dec; for they often give the mind a wrong view of the action, upon which it is to judge. Also when actions are complex, either in themselves or their results, the greater care is requisite in properly esti- mating them. $. 418. Of guilt when a person acts conscientiously. The question has sometimes been started, Whether a person is in any case to be considered as guilty and to be punished for actions done conscientiously ; for instance, when certain ignorant Savages are supposed to act con- scientiously in putting their aged and infirm parents to death. Undoubtedly, in many cases, where people act conscientiously, there is great guilt. And the reason of it is evident. We ha\e seen, that conscience, is in some measure under our control ; it mav be enlightened ; it may 482 MORAL SUSCEPTIBILITY. be strengthened ; or it may be greatly weakened, and ia some cases be made to approve of actions of the most un- worthy and sinful kind. Men, therefore, are to have a right conscience ; this great and exalting principle is to receive and ought to receive the very first attention ; and they are accountable whenever it is neglected. Other- wise we furnish a very easy and convenient excuse to the iniquitous perpetrators of all the cruelties of the Inquisi- tion, of all the persecutions of the Protestants, of all the acts of unkindness and tyranny, which have ever been ex- ercised upon individuals and communities. And the position, that men are accountable and guilty for having a wrong conscience in proportion to their means of knowledge, holds good in respect to the most ignorant and degraded Savage tribes, as well as in respect to civil- ized nations. It is true, no individual ought to assume the province of judging, what that degree of guilt is; for no one is competent to it. All, that is meant to be asserted, is, that when persons feel an emotion of approval in doing wrong, (that is, in doing what is condemned by the gene- ral moral sentiments of mankind, and by the written law of God ;) and yet have within their reach neglected sour- ces of knowledge, which, on being laid open to the mind, would have caused different feelings, they are criminal for such neglect of the information before them, and, con- sequently, cannot under such circumstances be rendered otherwise than criminal by any internal approbation. References. More's Enchiridion Ethicum ; Wollas- ton's Religion of Nature Delineated ; Hutcheson's Intro- duction to Moral Philosophy ; Price's Review of the Prin- cipal Questions in Morals ; Essays on the Principles of Morality and Natural Religion, (Lond. ed. 1758, anony- mous,) Ess. 1. ; Paley's Moral and Political Philosophy ; Gisborne's Principles of Moral Philosophy together with Remarks on the Doctrines of Paley ; Brown's Lectures, LXxm — lxxx. ; Stewart's Historical Dissertation, Pt. II. $. 1., &c. CHAPTER THIRTY SIXTH. THE PASSIONS. §. 419. Various significations of the term, passion. J. he term, passion, originally means suffering; this meaning is strictly conformable with its etymology from the Latin patior. It is employed in this sense, when in some writers we are told of the ' Saviour's passion.' Again, it implies in some instances a strong predilec- tion, a sort of enthusiastic fondness, for particular arts or pursuits. We say, that a person has a passion for music, or for painting ; or that he is passionately fond of garden- ing or of some diversions. Again, the word in question has another meaning ; implying what we otherwise ex- press by the word, anger. It is said of a man, that he is in a passion ; that is, he is angry. As the term, passion, is used here and in what follows, it denotes a state of mind, of which some simple emotion is always a part, but which differs from any single sim- ple emotion, in being combined with some form of that state of the mind called desire. In consequence of this complexity, the passions have a character of per- manency, which is not found to belong to any separate emotions. It is not easy to assign a distinction between the passions and affections ; the terms are here used as synonymous. 484 THE PASSIONS. §. 420. Of the passion of love. In pursuing the examination of this subject, we are first to consider the passion of love. There are many modifications or degrees of this passion ; the mere pre- ference of regard and esteem, the warmer glow of friend- ship, and the increased feeling of devoted attachment. There are not only differences in degree, the passion it- self seems to be modified, and to be invested with a differ- ent aspect, according to the circumstances, in which it is found to operate. The love, which we feel for our friends, is different from that, which we feel for a parent or broth- er ; and both are different from that, which we feel for our country. But it is impossible to convey in words the precise distinctions, which may justly be thought to exist both in kind and degree. Such an attempt would only involve the subject in greater confusion. Nor could we expect to succeed much better in giving a definition of the passion in general. Every one must be supposed to be acquainted with it from his own experi- ence, to know what it is to love parents, and friends, and country ; and we must, therefore, refer to that experience for a better idea of it, than can be conveyed by language. The difficulty here is precisely the same as that in ex- plaining by words the simple ideas from the senses. The sweetness of honey or of sugar, the smell of the violet and of the rose, are better known by these mere names than by any description or definition. When we merely name the sensations, we virtually refer back the individual to his own experience ; and when this is done, the neces- sity of a formal, and necessarily an imperfect definition is superseded. Without undertaking, therefore, to give any thing in the shape of a precise and accurate definition of the pas- sion, we may say something further, which shall give us some light as to its nature, considered, as a part of the physiology of the human mind. The feeling is a com- plex one ; and we may discover in it at least two ele- ments ; viz., an emotion of vivid delight in the contempla- tion of the object, and a desire of good to that object. THE PASSIONS. 485 Hence there will always be found in the object some qual- ity, either some excellence in the form, or in the intellect, or in the moral traits, or in all combined, which is capable of exciting a pleasurable emotion. There is a pleasing emotion, antecedent to the desire of good to the object, which causes it; but this happy feeling continues to exist, and to mingle with the subsequent kind desire. And there may be supposed to be a constant action and reac- tion, — the desire of good increasing the strength of the pleasurable emotion, and the mere feeling of delight en- hancing the benevolent desire. When the kind desire, which is one of the elements of love, is not excited merely in consequence of our having experienced the antecedent pleasurable emotion, but in consequence of regarding that pleasurable emotion as indicative of qualities, to which the unalterable voice of nature pronounces, that cur af- fections may be justly given, it is then a pure and exalting feeling. As to how far this purity of feeling exists, there may undoubtedly be a difference of opinion ; but just so far as it does, there is a glow of the heart, analogous to the devotional feelings of a higher and happier state of being. §. 421. Of the passion of hatred. The passion of hatred is the opposite to that of love. And as the latter was found to be complex, the former also may be separated into opposite, though analogous ele- ments ; viz. an emotion of pain, and a desire of injury to the object or cause of the painful feeling. For a correct notion, however, of this passion, as well as of its opposite, we must, resort to our own experience. — Some have maintained, that the malevolent affections, in the present condition of the world, are necessary and commendable ; that without them frauds and oppressions would come boldly forth into the great community of mankind. It cannot be denied, that a spirit of watchfulness and of retribution is necessary; but it is not so evident, that there is need of malevolence. The Supreme Being is a sovereign, who does not grant impuni- ty to sin : but he is represented as correcting with the 61 460 THE PASSIONS. feelings of a parent, and as anxious for the good of tiiose r who have subjected themselves to his chastisements. §. 422. Of sympathy. Sympathy, by the common use of language, implies an interest in the welfare of others, and may be considered in two respects, being either an interest in their joy, or an interest in their sorrow. The sympathetic man falls in with the requisition of Scripture, rejoicing with those, who rejoice, and weeping with those, who weep. His heart kindles up with happiness at beholding the happy, and he sheds the tear for the miserable. But that sympathy, which rejoices with the rejoicing, is only one of the forms of love. In an analysis of our passions, it is entitled to no separate place. Like love it is a feeling of delight, com- bined with benevolent desires towards the object of it. It is only the sympathy for sorrow, which can have a dis- tinct consideration in the list of our passions. Some have thought, that sympathy for sorrow is only a modification of love ; but we may discover a difference between them. We can sympathize in the griefs of those, in whom we are able to discern no pleasing qualities, and even with those, who are positive objects of hatred. We leave it to the feelings of any one to determine, Whether, if he saw even his enemy perishing with hunger in a dungeon, or his limbs broken on the rack, he would not harbour a relenting emotion, and be glad at his rescue ? If so, sym- pathy for grief is different from love, for we may sympa- thize with those, whom we do not, and cannot love ; and. consequently, is to be considered a distinct passion. As the passion of love is a feeling of delight, combined with the desire of good to the object of it, and hatred is the opposite of it, being a painful emotion, attended with a desire of injury ; so the sympathy of grief seems to agree in some respects with both, and to disagree in other respects. It includes a painful emotion, as in hatred, and a desire of good or of relief to the object of it, as in love. The painful emotion, which is a part of the complex feel- ing of sympathy, does not differ from the simplest form THE PASSIONS. IBS .A sadness ; and is probably the same feeling, although in a less degree, with the sorrow of the person, in whose behalf our sympathetic interest is enlisted. §. 423. Of anger. The passion of anger does not appear to differ essen- tially in its nature from that of hatred. When the painful emotion, and the desire of evil to the object of it, which are implied in hatred, arise suddenly and violently on the reception, or supposed reception of some injury, or from some other cause, if any can be imagined, the state of the mind is then called anger. That is to say, we suppose, anger is essentially the same with hatred, and differs from the ordinary forms of that passion chiefly in the cir- cumstance of great suddenness and violence. When the passion of anger is protracted, awaiting in all its power for some more favourable opportunity to show it- self, it becomes revenge. We speak of such a state of the soul as revengeful. The precept of St. Paul, " Be ye angry, and sin not," Eph. iv. 26.,) reminds us, that this passion is liable to ex- ceed due limits, and also that we ought to cherish such considerations, as are likely to check and properly control its influence. When we are angry, we should consider, in the first place, that we may have mistaken the motives of the person, whom we imagine to have injured us. Per- haps the oversight or crime, which we allege against him, was mere inadvertence. And it is possible, that his inten- tions were favourable towards us, instead of being, as we suppose, of a contrary character. (2) We should con- sider, secondly, that the indulgence of this passion on slight occasions renders us contemptible in the sight of all around us ; it excites no pity, nothing but feelings of scorn ; and, therefore, instead of being a punishment to the cause or supposed cause of the affront, only increases our own misery. (3) Let it be remembered also, that when the mind is much agitated by this passion, it is incapable of correct judgment ; actions, considered as the indications of feeling and character, do not appear in their true light : 468 THE PASSIONS. and the moral susceptibility is overborne and rendered useless. The saying of Socrates to his servant, "I would beat you, if I were not angry," although uttered by a Heathen, is not unworthy of the Christian philosophy. (4) There is another consideration, which ougut to pre- vent the indulgence of this passion, and to allay- its ef- fects ; It is, that all have offended against the Supreme Being, and stand in need of pardon from Him. Every one, who knows his own heart, must see, and feel himself to be a transgressor. How pitiful is it, then, for man to talk largely of satisfaction and revenge, when he is every moment dependent on the clemency and forgiveness of a Being, whom he has disobeyed and disregarded ! There is a species of anger, termed peevishness or fret- fulness, which often interrupts the peace and happiness of life. It diners from ordinary anger in being excited by very trifling circumstances, and in a strange facility of in- flicting its effects on every body, and every thing within its reach. The peevish man has met with some trifling disappointment, (it matters but little what it is,) and the serenity of whole days is disturbed ; no smiles are to be seen ; every thing, whether animate or inanimate, ration- al or irrational, is out of place, and falls under the rebuke of this fretful being. Genuine anger is like a thunder- shower, that comes dark and heavily, but leaves a clear sky afterwards. But peevishness is like an obscure, driz- zling fog ; it is less violent, and lasts longer. In general, it is more unreasonable and unjust, than violent anger, and would certainly be more disagreeable, were it not often, in consequence of being so disproportioned to its cause, irresistibly ludicrous. §. 424". Of gratitude. As anger is but one of the forms of hatred, gratitude .seems to be one of the forms of the general passion of love. Like the last named passion, it includes an emotion of pleasure or delight, combined with a desire of good or a benevolent feeling towards the object of it. But we nev- er give the name of gratitude to this combination of pleas- THE PASSIONS. 489 mg and benevolent emotion, except it arise in reference to some benefit or benefits conferred. A great part of that strong feeling, which is exercised by children toward parents, is that species of love, which is termed gratitude. They think of them, not only as possessing many qualities, which are estimable and lovely in themselves ; but as fond and unwearied benefactors. They cannot behold, without having their feelings strongly moved, their earnest dispo- sition to relieve their sufferings, to supply their wants, to enhance their enjoyments. Different individuals exhibit considerable diversity in the exercise of grateful emotions. Some receive the fa- vours heaped upon them without exhibiting any visible re- turns of benevolent regard ; others are incapable of a passive reception of benefits, and are strongly affected, whenever they are conferred. This difference is probably owing in part to original diversities of constitution ; and is partly to be ascribed to different views of the characters and dutwes of men, or to other adventitious circumstances. §. 425. Of pride. Pride is a consciousness or belief of some superiority in ourselves over others, attended with a desire, that oth- ers should be sensible of it. There are many modifica- tions of this, no less than of the other passions. When it is very officious, and makes an ostentatious display of those circumstances, in which it imagines its superiority to con- sist, it is termed vanity. When it discovers itself, not so much in the display of the circumstances of its superiority as in a contempt, and in sneering disparagements of tiie inferiour qualities of others, it is termed haughtiness or arrogance. If the above notion of pride be correct, this, passion cannot exist without implying a comparison of our- selves with others. The proud, in making this compari- son, either are, or believe themselves to be superiour in some respect to others ; this superiority, they are desirous, should be made known, when there is evidently no rea- son ior it, except what may be found in the peculiar state of their own feelings. 49u THE PASSIONS. definition, which has been given ; for there may not on- ly be superiority and a consiousness of it without pride- but under certain circumstances, (perhaps when igno- rance is to be enlightened, or turbulence is to be subdued, or lawless vice is to be awed,) there may be even a de- sire of making it known, and yet without the passion in question. The passion of pride is not limited to the possession of any one object or quality, or to any single circumstance or combination of circumstances. One is proud of his an- cestry ; another of his riches, and a third of the beauty of his dress or person. It is the same feeling in the states- man, and the jockey ; in the leader of armies, and the hun- ter of hares and foxes ; in the possessor of the princely palace, and of the well-wrought cane or snuff-box. Some have thought, that many good results, connected with human enterprize and efforts, may be justly ascribed to the influence of this passion. On the other hand, it has been maintained, that there are other principles of action of a more generous and ennobling kind, which might ac- complish, and ought to accomplish all, which has been at- tributed to this. Certainly, a little reflection, a little in- sight into our origin, infirmities, and wants, would tend to diminish the degree of it, if nothing more. " If we could trace our descents, (says Seneca,) we should find all slaves to come from princes, and princes from slaves. To be proud of knowledge, is to be blind in the light ; to be proud of virtue, is to poison ourselves with the anti- dote ; to be proud of authority, is to make our rise our downfall." 5. 426. Of fear. Fear is a simple emotion of pain, caused by an object, which we anticipate will be injurious to us, attended with a desire of avoiding such object or its injurious effects. Having made desire a part of the passion of fear, and also of other complex states of the mind which involve emotions, of the passions of love, hatred, sympathy, anger, gratitude, and pride, it may have occurred, ere this, to ask. THE PASSIONS. 491 What is meant by that term ? In answer, it must be acknowledged, that it is difficult to give a satisfactory ex- planation of it. We can, indeed, say, that desire is prece- ded by the idea of something, which is the object of it ; and also that it is preceded by an emotion of pain or of delight But on the examination of one's own feelings, it will be readily perceived, that both of these are different from the state of mind in question. " With the mere feel- ings [of desire,] says Brown, I may suppose you to be ful- ly acquainted ; and any attempt to define them, as feel- ings, must involve the use of some word exactly synony- mous, or will convey no meaning whatever." But lo return to the passion under consideration. The strength or intensity of fear will be in proportion to the ap- prehended evil. There is a difference of original suscep- tibility of this passion in different persons ; and the amount of apprehended evil will, consequently, vary with the quickness of such susceptibility. But whatever causes may increase or diminish the opinion of the degree of evil, which threatens, there will be a correspondence between the opinion, which is formed of it and the fearful passion. When this passion is extreme, it prevents the due exercise of the moral susceptibility, and interrupts correct judgment of any kind whatever. It is a feeling of great power, and one which will not bear to be trifled with. It may serve as a profitable hint, to remark, that there have been instances of persons thrown into a fright suddenly, and perhaps in mere sport, which has immediately resulted in a most distressing and permanent mental disorganiza- tion. In cases, where the anticipated evil is very great, and there is no hope of avoiding it in any way, the mind exists in that state, which is called despair. §. 427. Of hope. Such is the extensive influence of that state of the mind, to which we give the name of hope, that it de- serves a separate consideration, although it cannot be reckoned, as a distinct passion. It is truly nothing more than a modification or form of desire. We desire a thing; 492 THE PASSIONS. if there is but little probability of obtaining it, it is what is termed a ivish; when there is an increase of probability, the wish becomes hope ; and when the probability is still further increased, the hope becomes expectation, and ex- pectation itself may be distinguished as weak or strong. Consequently, hope may be predicated of every thing of whatever kind, where there is desire, whether it be a de- sire of good or of evil, for ourselves, or for others. When the desire is attended with so little probability as to be a mere wish, it is languid ; when there is hope, it assumes a more vivid and enlivening aspect. We, accordingly, speak of 'gay' hope, of 'cheering,' or 'bright' hope, and re- gard it as spreading a sort of rapturous light over the dis- tant objects, which it contemplates. "With thee, sweet Hope! resides the heavenly light, " That pours remotest rapture on the sight ; "Thine is the charm of life's bewildered way, "That calls each slumbering passion into play." The influence of that vividness and pleasure of desire, which we term hope, is very great. It is felt more, or less, in all the duties and situations of life. The school-boy is encouraged in his tasks by some hope of reward ; and when grown up to manhood, he cheers himself, after a thousand disappointments, with some good in prospect. The poor peasant, who laboriously cultivates his few ster- ile acres, sees them in his anticipation, rich, and bloom- ing, and prodigal of wealth. It proffers its Vid in the chambers of the sick and suffering ; and the victim of oppressive tyranny, the captive in the dungeon, is encour- aged to summon up the fortitude, necessary to prolong his existence, by the hope, however poorly founded, of future deliverance. §. 4-28. Of jealousy. Jealousy is a painful emotion, caused by some object of love, and attended with a desire of evil towards that ob- ject. The circumstance, which characterizes this passion and constitutes its peculiar trait, is. that all its bittcrnes? THE PASSIONS. 493 •uiid hostility are inflicted on some one, whom the jealous person loves. The feeling of suspicious rivalship, which often exists between candidates for fame and power, is sometimes called jealousy on account of its analogy to this passion. There are various degrees of jealousy from the forms of mere distrust and of watchful suspicion to its high- est paroxysms. In general the strength of the passion will be found to be in proportion to the value, which is attach- ed to the object of it; and is perhaps more frequently found in persons, who have a large share of pride, than in others. Such, in consequence of the habitual belief of their own superiority, are likely to notice many trifling inadver- tencies, and to treasure them up as proof of intended neg- lect, which would not have been observed by others, and certainly were exempt from any evil intention. The person under the influence of this passion is inca- pable of forming a correct judgment of the conduct of the individual, who is the object of it; he observes every thing, and gives it the worst interpretation ; and circumstances,, which, in another state of the mind, would have been to- kens of innocence, are converted into proof of guilt. AJ- though poetry, it is no fiction ; "Trifles, light as air, '^Are to the jealous confirmations strong, 7 gas, the mental exercises are rendered intense and vivid by the febrile miasma ; but the emotions, which are expe- rienced, instead of being pleasant, are gloomy and painful. The trains of thought, which are at such times suggested, and the creations of the imagination are all of an analo- gous character, strange, spectral, and terrifying.* (4) In general, whenever the physical condition of the brain, which is a prominent organ in the process of per- ception, is affected, whether it be from a more than com- mon fulness of the blood vessels, or from other causes, the mind itself will be found to be affected also; and often- times in a high degree. Many such facts clearly com- bine to show, that the mind is susceptible of new states, and of modifications of its present states, in consequence of alterations in the bodily system. §. 432. 1st cause of permanently vivid conceptions or apparitions. Neglect of periodical blood-letting. We have been led to see, (§. §. 119, 430,) that our con- ceptions or renovated ideas may be so vivid, as to affect our belief for a short time hardly less powerfully, than the original perceptions. But as in the cases referred to, there was not supposed to be an unsound or disordered state of the body, this extreme vividness of conception was ex- ceedingly transitory. There are other cases of a more permanent character, which are worthy of no small notice- in the history of the mind. These last always imply a disordered state of the body, which we were taught in the last section is often attended with very marked effects on the intellect. And the first cause of them, which we shall notice, is the neglect of customary periodical blood- letting. The doctrine, that excited conceptions or appa- ritions are attendant on a superabundance of blood, occa- sioned by this neglect, seems to be illustrated and con- firmed in the following interesting narration. §. 433. Excited conceptions or apparitions of Nicolai. Nicolai was an inhabitant of Berlin, a celebrated book- seller, and naturally of a very vivid imagination. He was *See Hibbert's Philosophy of Appaiitions, Pt. II, cii. 1. 498 EXCITED CONCEPTIONS neither ignorant nor superstitious ; a fact, which some un- doubtedly will esteem it important to know. The follow- ing account of the apparitions, which appeared to him, is given in his own words. " My wife and another person came into my apartment in the morning, in order to console me, but I was too much agitated by a series of incidents,which had most powerful- ly affected my moral feeling, to be capable of attending to them. On a sudden, I perceived, at about the distance of ten steps, a form like that of a deceased person. I point- ed at it, asking my wife if she did not see it ? It was but natural that she should not see any thing ; my question, therefore, alarmed her very much, and she immediately sent for a physician. The phantom continued about eight minutes. I grew at length more calm, and being extreme- ly exhausted, fell into a restless sleep, which lasted about half an hour. The physician ascribed the apparition to a violent mental emotion, and hoped there would be no re- turn ; but the violent agitation of my mind had in some way disordered my nerves, and produced further conse- quences, which deserve a more minute description. " At four in the afternoon, the form which I had seen in the morning re-appeared. I was by myself when this happened, and being rather uneasy at the incident, went to my wife's apartment, but there likewise I was persecu- ted by the apparition, which, however, at intervals disap- peared, and always presented itself in a standing posture. About six o'clock there appeared also several walking fig- ures, which had no connection with the first. After the first day the form of the deceased person no more appear- ed, but its place was supplied with many other phantasms, sometimes representing acquaintances, but mostly stran- gers ; those whom I knew were composed of living and de- ceased persons, but the number of the latter was compara- tively small. I observed the persons with whom I daily conversed did not appear as phantasms, these representing chiefly persons who lived at some distance from me. "These phantasms seemed equally clear and distinct at all times, and under all circumstances, both when I was by OR APPARITIONS. myself, and when I was in company, and as well in the day a* at night, and in my own house as well as abroad ; they were, how ever, less frequent when I was in the house of a friend, and rarely appeared to me in the street. When I shut my eyes, these phantasms would sometimes vanish entirely, though there were instances when I beheld them with my eyes closed, yet, when they disappeared on such occasions, they generally returned when I opened my eyes. I con- versed sometimes with my physician and my wife of the phantasms which at the moment surrounded me ; they ap- peared more frequently walking than at rest, nor were they constantly present. They frequently did not come for some time, but always re-appeared for a longer or shorter period, either singly or in company, the latter, however, being most frequently the case. I generally saw human forms of both sexes, but they usually seemed not to take the smallest notice of each other, moving as in a market- place, where all are eager to press through the crowd ; at times, however, they seemed to be transacting business with each other. I also saw several times people on horse- back, dogs and birds. All these phantasms appeared to me in their natural size, and as distinct as if alive, exhibit- ing different shades of carnation in the uncovered parts, as well as different colours and fashions in their dresses, though the colours seemed somewhat paler than in real nature. None of the figures appeared particularly terri- ble, comical, or disgusting, most of them being of an indif- ferent shape, and some presenting a pleasing aspect. The longer these phantoms continued to visit me, the more fre- quently did they return, while, at the same time, they in- creased in number about four weeks after they had firsl appeared. I also began to hear them talk ; these phantoms sometimes conversed among themselves, but more fre- quently addressed their discourse to me ; their speeding were commonly short, and never of an unpleasant turn. At different times there appeared to me' both dear and sen- sible friends of both sexes, whose addresses tended to ap- pease my grief, which had not yet wholly subsided : their consolatory spee.ches wore in general addressed t<1 me 500 EXCITED CONCEPTIONS when I was alone. Sometimes, however, I was accosted by these consoling friends while I was engaged in compa- ny, and not unfrequently while real persons were speaking to me. These consolatory addresses consisted sometimes of abrupt phrases, and at other times they were regularly executed." As Nicolai was a person of information and of a phi- losophic spirit, he was able to detect and to assign the true cause of his mental malady. He was, it is to be remembered, in the first place, a person of a very vivid fancy, and hence his mind was the more likely to be affected by any disease of the body. A number of years before the occurrences above related, he had been subject to a violent vertigo, which had been cured by means of leeches ; it was his custom to lose blood twice a year, but previously to the present attack, this evacuation had been neglected. Supposing, therefore, that the mental disorder might arise from a superabun- dance of blood and some irregularity in the circulation, he again resortedvto the application of leeches. When the leeches, were applied, no person was with him besides the surgeon ; but during the operation his chamber was crowded with human phantasms of all des- criptions. In the course of a few hours, however, they moved around the chamber more slowly ; their colour be- Bicetre,) is the extremely disproportionate extent of the face,compared with the diminutive size of the cranium. No traits of animation are visible in his phisiognomy. Even line indicates the most absolute stupidity. Between the height of the head, and that of the whole stature, there is a very great disproportion. The cranium is greatly depress- ed, both at the crown and at the temples. His looks are heavy, and his mouth wide open. The whole extent of his knowledge is confined to three or four confused ideas, and that of his speech to as many inarticulate sounds."* From this instance, which is one of the lowest forms of idiocy, and from others, where there was a similar confor- mation of the head, Pinel seems to be inclined to the opinion, that a mal-conformation of the head in particu- lar is the cause of idiotism, when it exists from infancy. That absence or weakness of intellectual power, which is termed idiocy, is often found to exist from other causes. Men of great mental ability have sometimes sunk into the state of idiotism, in consequence of too great application of the mind, combined with a disrelish for social inter- course, which would have checked, and probably have pre- vented such entire prostration of the intellect. The latter cause is thought to have co-operated in bringing on the fa- tuity of Dean Swift. He persisted in denying himself the relaxations of society, and thus lost the opportunity both of acquiring a fund of new ideas, and of renovating his * Pinel's Treatise on Insanity, fDavis' Translation,) sect, iik 514 MENTAL ALIENATION. former stores of knowledge. His once vigorous mind collapsed into such weakness and ignorance, that he was at last confined in a hospital, which he had himself found- ed for idiots. Our countryman, Franklin, on the contrary, continued to employ himself, not only in reading and writing, but in conversation ; he felt a lively interest in the welfare of his friends, and in the progress of all pub- lic enterpnzes and institutions, and at the period of his death, in the 85th year of his age, discovered no weakness and decay of mind. Idiocy appears, in some cases, to be induced by mere old age. The senses at that period of life become dull ; the ideas received from them are less lively, than former- ly ; the memory fails, and with it the power of reasoning ; and there is combined, with these unfavourable circum- stances, a want of interest in persons and events. Further ; this state of the mind may be caused by va- rious diseases, such as violent fevers, which at times sud- denly disturb the mental powers, produce a temporary de- lirium, and then leave the intellectual faculties in a per- manently torpid and inefficient condition. It may origi- nate also in the abuse of ardent spirits, from great grief, from violent blows on the head, from sudden and great terrour, &c. The idiocy, which is natural, and exists from infancy, has sometimes been distinguished from that, which is brought on by the above-mentioned and other causes in after life ; but the mental condition being in both cases essentially the same, they may properly be considered to- gether in one view. This species of mental alienation is generally found to be incurable. §. 444. Illustrations of the causes of idiocy. Great and sudden terrour was mentioned, as one of the causes of idiocy. Very great and sudden excitements of any of the passions may produce the same effect. We know of no illustrations of this statement more striking* than the following from the interesting work of Pinel on Insanity.. " The feelings of individuals, endowed with acute sensibility, may experience so violent a shock, that «*k MENTAL ALIENATION. 53S aH the functions of the mind are in danger of being sus- pended in their exercises or totally abolished. Sudden joy and excessive fear are equally capable of producing this inexplicable phenomenon. An engineer proposed to the committee of public safety, in the second year of the [French] republic, a project for a new invented cannon, of which the effects would be tremendous. A day was fixed for the experiment at Mcudon ; and Robespierre wrote to the inventor so flattering a letter, that, upon pe- rusing it, he was transfixed motionless to the spot. He was shortly afterwards sent to Bicetre in a state of eom- plete idiotism. " About the same time, two young conscripts, who had recently joined the army, were called into action. In the heat of the engagement, one of them was killed by a mus- ket ball, at the side of his brother. The survivor, petrifi- ed with horror, was struck motionless at the sight. Some days afterwards he was sent in a state of complete idio- tism to his father's house. His arrival produced a similar impression upon a third son of the same family. The news of the death of one of the brothers, and the derange- ment of the other, threw this third victim into a state of such consternation and stupor as might have defied the powers of ancient or modern poetry to give an adequate representation of it. My sympathetic feelings have been frequently arrested by the sad wreck of humanity, present- ed in the appearance of these degraded beings : but it was a scene truly heart-rending to see the wretched father come to weep over these miserable remains of his once enviable family." §. 445. Of disordered or alienated external perceptions. In the remarks made in some former chapters, (iv, v,) the senses, it will be recollected, were described as one of the great sources of our knowledge. But perception by means of the senses, otherwise called external percep- tion and sometimes sensation, depends upon two things ; hot only upon the condition of the senses, but upon the c-o*dition of the mind itself. Both the state of the mind 5i«5 MENTAL ALIENATION, and of the senses must be a right state, (that is, the com- mon or ordinary state ;) otherwise the perceptions of ex- ternal objects will not be such as can be relied on. If either be defective or perverted, the perception will necessarily partake of a like defect or a like perversion. Hence it is often found, that defective and false external perceptions are attendant on a disordered or alienated state of the mind, when there is apparently no unsoundness in the senses. In very many cases, objects of sight, hear- ing, and touch do not appear the same to insane persons as to others. Not because their senses are less acute and they cannot see, feel, and hear as well as others ; but be- cause the interiour requisite of perception, the mind, has broken loose from those laws it observes in others, and the observation of which is by its very constitution rendered necessary to right views of external objects. Agreeably to this view we find, insane persons often mistake their friends and relations for others ; and are at a loss as to the place where they are, although they may have been in it hundreds of times before. This derange- ment of perception is seen especially when they attempt to read a book. They no doubt see the letters no less than others, but the action of the mind not being such as to permit them to dwell upon them, and compare and combine them into words, they are unable to read ; it is at least exceedingly difficult. As the aid of the mind is as requisite in tactual as in visual perceptions, and is equally requisite in the perceptions from the senses of taste and of hearing, these views will be found to hold good in respect to all of them alike. Objects, that are presented to the sense of touch, do not appear the same as formerly. The mind, in consequence of its disordered action, is unable to arrange and interpret the sounds, which would once have discoursed to it wisdom and music. And thus the soul throws out its internal disorganization over multitudes of objects, that would have been otherwise grateful to the taste and to the feeling, pleasant to the ear and beautiful in vision.* *See Dictionairp des Scieiicea Medicales. Art. Folie, (Esquirol, MENTAL ALIENATION. 517 §. 446. Disordered or alienated association. Lightheadedness. The laws of the mind, as well as its mere perceptions or states, may be disordered ; for instance, the law of as- sociation. The irregular action of this great principle of our intellectual nature is sometimes greater ; at others less. There is one of the slighter forms of mental aliena- tion from this cause, which may be termed light-headed- ness ; otherwise called by Pinel, demence, and by Dr. Rush, dissociation. Persons, subject to this mental dis- ease, are sometimes designated as ' flighty,' ' hair-brained'; and when the indications of it are pretty decided, as a •little cracked.' Their disorder seems chiefly to consist in a deficiency of the ordinary power over associated ideas. Their thoughts fly from one subject to another with great rapidity ; and, consequently, one mark of this state of mind is great volubility of speech, and almost constant motion of the body. This rapid succession of ideas and attendant volubility of tongue are generally accompanied with forgetfulness in a greater or less degree. And as the subject of this form of derangement is equally incapa- ble of checking and reflecting upon his present ideas, and of recalling the past, he constantly forms incorrect judg- ments of things. Another mark, which has been given, is a diminished sensibility to external impressions. §. 447. Illustration of this mental disorder. Dr. Rush in his valuable work on the Diseases of the Mind has repeated the account, which an English clergy- man, who visited Lavater, the physiognomist, has given of that singular character. It accurately illustrates this men- tal disorder. " I was detained, (says he,) the whole morn- ing by the strange, wild, eccentric Lavater, in various con- versations. When once he is set a going, there is no such thing as stopping him, till he runs himself out of breath. He starts from subject to subject, flies from book to book, from picture to picture ; measures your nose, your eye, your mouth, with a pair of compasses; pours forth a tor- rent of physiognomy upon you; drags you, for a proof of his dosrma, to a dozen of closets, and unfolds ten thou- 65 518 Aii:i\TAL ALIENATION. sand drawings ; but will not let you open your lips t» propose a difficulty ; crnms a solution down your throat, before you have uttered half a syllable of your objection. He is as meagre as the picture of famine ; his nose and chin almost meet. I read him in my turn, and found lit- tle difficulty in discovering, amidst great genius, unaffect- ed piety, unbounded benevolence and moderate learning, much caprice and unsteadiness ; a mind at once aspiring by nature, and grovelling through necessity ; an endless turn to speculation and project ; in a word, a clever, flighty, good-natured, necessitous man."* $. 448. Partial mental alienation by means of the imagination. Men of sensibility and genius, by giving way to the suggestions of a melancholy imagination, sometimes be- come mentaUy disordered. Not that we are authorized to include these cases as among the more striking forms *Note. The late professor Fisher of New H^ven has left a state- ment, illustrative of this inordinate mental affection. Like that of Nicolai, it is the more valuable in coming from a scientfic man, as the narration is in consequence placed above any suspicion of mis- take. " To whatever subject (he says) I happened to direct my thoughts, my mind was crowded with ideas upon it. I seemed to myself able to wield the most difficult subjects with perfect ease, and to have an entire command over my own train of thought. I found myself wonderfully inventive $ scarce a subject presented itself in which I did not seem to myself to perceive, as it were by intuition, important improvements. I slept but a part of the night, my mind being intensely occupied with plajining, inventing.^. All the writing that I did was done in the utmost hurry. Ideas crowded upon me five times as fast as I could put down even hints of them, and my sole object was to have some memorial by which they might be recalled. I was employed the whole time in the most intense meditation ; at the same time, thinking never seemed to me to be attended with so little effort. I did not experience the least confusion or fatigue of mind. My thoughts flowed with a rapidity that was prodigious, and the faculties of association, memory, &c, were wonderfully raised. I could read different languages into English, and English into He- brew, with a fluency which I was never before or since master of. During the whole time, though I was in a low state of health, I nev- er felt the least pain or fatigue of body." MENTAL ALIENATJON. 519 of insanity; they in general attract but little notice, al- though sources of exquisite misery to the subjects of them. But such are the extravagant dreams, in which they in- dulge ; such are the wrong views of the character and ac- tions of men, which their busy and melancholy imagina- tions are apt to form, that they cannot be reckoned per- sons of truly sound minds. These instances, which art; not rare, it is difficult fully to describe; but their most distinguishing traits will be recognized in the following sketch from Madame de Stael's Reflections on the Char- acter and Writings of Rousseau. " His faculties were slow in their operation, but his heart was ardent: it was in consequence of his own med- itations, that he became impassioned : he discovered no sudden emotions, but all his feelings grew upon reflection. " Sometimes he would part with you, with all his for- mer affection ; but if an expression had escaped you, which might bear an unfavourable construction, he would recol- lect it, examine it, exaggerate it, perhaps dwell upon it for a month, nnd conclude by a total breach with you. Hence it was, that there was scarce a possibility of undeceiving him; for the light, which broke in upon him at once, was not sufficient to efface the wrong impressions, which had taken place so gradually in his mind. It was extremely difficult, too, to continue long on an intimate footing with him. A word, a gesture, furnished him with matter of profound meditation ; he connected the most trifling cir- cumstances like so many mathematical propositions, and conceived his conclusions to be supported by the evidence of demonstration. " I believe, (she further remarks,) that imagination was the strongest of his faculties, and that it had almost absorbed all the rest. He dreamed rather than existed. and the events of his life might be said, more properly, to have passed in his mind, than without him : a mode of be- ing, one should have thought, that ought to have secured him from distrust, as it prevented him from observation ; but the truth was, it did not hinder him from attempting to observe; it only rendered his observations erroneous. 590 MENTAL ALIENATION. That his soul was tender no one can doubt, after having read his works ; but his imagination sometimes interposed between his reason and his affections, and destroyed their influence; he appeared sometimes void of sensibility ; but it was because he did not perceive objects such as they were. Had he seen them with our eyes, his heart would have been more affected than ours." §. 449. Disordered imagination. First form of hypochondriasis. One of the slighter forms of hypochondriasis can per- haps be traced to inordinate workings of the imagination. The mind of the sufferer is fixed upon some unpromising and gloomy subject ; probably one, which has particular relation either to his present or future prospects. He gives it an undue place in his thoughts, dwelling upon it continually. His imagination hovers over it, throwing a deeper shade, on what is already dark. Thus the mind becomes disordered ; it is broken off from its ordinary and rightful mode of action ; and is no longer what it was, nor what nature designed it should be. The mental alienation, resulting from a melancholy imagination, is the more deplorable, because it is generally found to be connected with exquisite sensibility, and often with great mental power. Nothing but a warm heart and great ability in combination could originate and frame to- gether the elements of such ideal exaggerations. Persons, exposed to this mental disorder, should take the alarm ; and happy will it be for them, if they can he excited to some decided effort by the future misery, which they are preparing for themselves. They should strenu- ously endeavour to demolish the world, which their imag- inations have created, and come out from their solitude in- to more active and busy life. " Go, soft enthusiast ! quit the cypress grove, " Nor to the rivulet's lonely moanings tune "Your sad complaint. Go, seek the cheerful haunts "Of men, and mingle with the bustling crowd; " Lay schemes for wealth, or power, or fame, the wish MENTAL ALIENATION. ">'2l *' Of nobler minds, and push them night and day, " Or join the Caravan in quest of scenes, " New to your eyes, and shifting every hour, " Beyond the Alps, beyond the Apennines. §. 450. Insanity or alienation of the power of belief. In men of sane minds we find great diversities in the susceptibility of belief. Whatever may be the cause of it, it is very obvious, that the same circumstances extort a read- ier and stronger assent from some than others. There are three classes of persons, in whom this faculty or suscep- tibility appears to be disordered. (1) The first class are those, who seem incapable of believing any thing, which they are required to receive on the testimony <>f / others. They must see it with their own eyes ; they must hear it, or handle it for themselves; they must examine it by square, rule, and compass. They remind one of the Savage, who complained, when something was proposed for his belief, "that it would not believe for him." The causes of this singular inability are worthy of more inquiry, than has hitherto been expended upon them. When it is very great, it is a mark of the approach or actual exis- tence of idiocy. (2) There is another class of persons, 1/ who plainly show a derangement of this power, by their readiness to believe every thing. No matter how incon- gruous or improbable a story is, it is received at once. They take no note of dates, characters, and circumstan- ces ; and as they find nothing too improbable to believe, they find nothing too strange, marvellous, and foolish to report. This state of mind is frequently an accompani- ment of lightheadedness. (3) There are other cases, where the alienation of belief is not general, but particu- lar. There is nothing peculiar and disordered in its ordi- nary action, but only in respect to particular facts. That is, certain propositions, which are erroneous and absurd, are received by the disordered persons as certain ; and nothing can convince them of the contrary. One believes himself to be a king ; another, that he is the prophet, .Ua- homet ; and various other absurdities are received bv iiicm. 522 MENTAL ALIENATION. as undoubtedly true. On all other subjects they appear to be rational ; but the alienation or insanity of belief is evident, as soon as their cherished errours are mentioned. §. 451. Same subject continued. 2d form of hypochondriasis. In the remarks on a disordered imagination, it has al- ready come in our way to give an account of one form of hypochondriasis. There is another, and still more striking form, connected with an alienation of the power of belief. As in all other cases of hypochondriasis, the subject of it suffers much mental distress. He is beset with the most gloomy and distressing apprehensions, occasioned, not by exaggerated and erroneous notions in general, but by some fixed and inevitable false belief. One imagines, that he has no soul ; another, that his body is gradually but rapidly perishing; and a third, that he is converted into some other animal ; or that he has been transformed into a plant. We are told in the Memoirs of Count Maurepas, that this last idea once took possession of the mind of one of the princes of Bourbon. So deeply was he infected with this notion, that he often went into his garden, and insisted on being watered in common with the plants around him. Some have imagined themselves to be trans- formed into glass, and others have fallen into the still stranger folly of imagining themselves dead. §. 452. Of intermissions of hypochondriasis and of its remedies. The mental disease of hypochondriasis is understood to imply, as a general statement, a feeling of gloom and depression; but this depressed feeling does not exist in all cases in the same degree. In all instances it is a source of no small unhappiness ; but in some the wretchedness i.-- extreme. The greatest bodily pains are light in the com- parison. It is worthy of remark, however, that the men- tal distress of hypochondriasis is in some persons charac- terized by occasional intermissions. An accidental re- mark, some sudden combination of ideas, a pleasant day, and various other causes are found to dissipate the gloom of the mind. At such times there is not unfrequentl y a CENTAL ALIENATION. 588 high flow of the spirits, corresponding to the previous ex- treme depression. As this disease, even when mitiga- ted by occasional intermissions, is prodigal in evil results, it becomes proper to allude to certain remedies, which have sometimes been resorted to. (1) The first step towards remedying the evil is to in- fuse health and vigour into the bodily action, especially that of the nervous system. The nerves, it will be recol- lected, are the great medium of sensation, inasmuch as they constitute, under different modifications, the external senses. Now the senses are prominent sources of belief and knowledge. Consequently when the nervous system, (including of course the senses,) is in a disordered state, it is not surprising, that persons should have wrong sensa- tions and perceptions, and, therefore, a wrong belief. If a man's nerves are in such a state, that he feels precisely as he supposes a man made of glass would feel, it is no arreat wonder, when we consider the constitution of the mind, that he should actually believe himself to be compo- sed of that substance. But one of the forms of the dis- ease in question is essentially founded en an erroneous, but fixed belief of this kind. Hence in restoring the bodily system to a right action, we shall correct the wrong belief, if it be founded in the senses ; and in removing this, we may anticipate the removal of that deep-seated gloom, which is characteristic of hypochondriasis. (2) When- ever the belief, whether particular or general and what- ever it may be founded on, involves considerations of a moral nature, the hypochondriasis may sometimes be re- moved, or at least alleviated, by the application of moral motives. If, for instance, the mental disease have arisen from some supposed injury, it is desirable to suggest all well-founded considerations, which may tend to lessen the sufferer's estimate of the amount of injury received. When the injury is very great and apparent, suggestions on the nature and duty of forgiveness are not without effect. (3) As ail the old associations of the hypochondriac have been more or less visited and tinctured by his pecu- liar malady, efforts should be made to break them up and 524 MENTAL ALIENATION. remove them from the mind, by changes in the objects.with which he is most conversant, by introducing him into new society, or by travelling. By these means his thoughts are likely to be diverted, not only from the particular sub- ject, which has chiefly interesled him ; but a new impulse is given to the whole mind, which promises to interrupt and banish that fatal fixedness and inertness, which had previously encumbered and prostrated it. §. 453. Of the powers of reasoning in the partially insane. It will be noticed, so far as we have gone in that part of the general subject of mental alienation usually known under the name of insanity, we have considered the pow- ers of the mind separately. Every susceptibility of the mind, which can be distinguished from other susceptibili- ties, may become alienated and disordered. Having con- sidered perception, association, imagination, and belief, it falls to us next to consider the operations of the reasoning power in persons, who are partially insane. It is to be kept in mind, that, in all cases except de- lirious or total insanity, (upon which something remains to be remarked,) the insane person may be expected to be in the full and unbiassed possession of the reasoning power to a certain extent ; the defect or alienation of reasoning is observed chiefly when it has relation to cer- tain subjects, in respect to which the belief is affected. When the train of reasoning leads him within the range of that particular subject, we at once discover, that the in- tellect is disordered. So that the defect of reasoning in persons partially insane, (making allowances for peculiar- ities to be ascribed to differences in the action of the as- sociating principle,) seems to consist not so much in the mode of connecting propositions, and in the conclusions, as in the premises. The insane person, for instance, rea- sons correctly in requiring for himself the homage, suited to a king, and in expressing dissatisfaction on account of its being withheld ; but he commits an essential errour in the premises, which assume, that he actually possesses that station. The following illustration from a deser- CENTAL ALIENATION. 9$ vedly favourite romance may assist in the better under- standing of this part of our subject. §. 454. Instance of partial alienation of the reasoning power in the character of Don Quixote. Cervantes represents the hero of his work, as having his naturally good understanding perverted by the peru- sal of certain foolish, romantic stories, falsely purporting to be a true record of knights and of deeds of chivalry. These books, containing representations of dwarfs, giants, necromancers, and other preternatural extravagance, were zealously perused, until the head of Don Quixote was ef- fectually turned by them. Although he was thus brought into a state of real mental derangement, it was limited to the extravagancies, which have been mentioned ; on oth- er subjects he was rational ; and could his mind have been kept free from its knight-errant delusion, he would probably, like thousands of others, have sustained merely the character of a reputable citizen in his native village, unknown to romance and to fame. "In all his conversations and replies, (Bk. iv. ch. 23.) he gave evident proofs of a most excellent understanding, and never ■ lost the stirrups,' except on the subject of chiv- alry." On this subject he 'was crazed.' Bracing his shield, therefore, and brandishing his lance, he declares to his credulous attendant, (Bk. iii. ch. 6,) that strange perils and vast adventures are reserved for him ; that he is ordained to re-establish the knights of the Round Ta- ble, and that his fame will exceed that of the Tabl antes and the Olivantes. When the barber and curate visited him on a certain occasion, the conversation happened to turn on what are termed reasons of state, and on modes of administration ; and Don Quixote spoke so well on every topic, as to con- vince them, that he was quite sound, and had recovered the right exercise of his judgment. But something being unadvisedly said about the Turkish war, the Knight at once remarked with much solemnity and seriousness, that his majestv had nothing to do. but to issue a proclamation. (56 538 MENTAL ALIENATION. commanding all the knights-errant in Spain to assemble at his court on such a day ; and although not more than half a dozen should come, among these one would be found, who woidd alone be sufficient to overthrow' the whole Turkish power. When the subject of conversation turned upon war, which had so near a connection with shields, and lances, and all the associations of chivalry, it came within the range of his malady. In reading the book, to which these remarks have reference, if we keep in mind the true mental state of its hero, we shall see an admirable consis- tency in its narrations, and a truth to nature, which oth- erwise might not be observed. §. 455. Readiness of reasoning in the partially insane and its causes. Those, who have been personally acquainted with the intellectual condition of the partially insane, have some- times observed in them great quickness of thought in some little emergencies, and an unusual degree of cunning. When, for instance, an attempt has been made to seize and confine them, they steadily and promptly mark the motions of their pursuers ; they rapidly decypher their in- tentions from their countenance ; and cause them no small degree of perplexity. In particular it has been obser- ved in some instances, that they discover more fluency of expression, and rapidity of deduction, than others of a perfectly sound mind, or than themselves could have ex- hibited before their derangement. This singular fact is to be briefly explained. The unusual quickness of deduction and of expression, which has sometimes been noticed in partially insane persons, may be referred to two causes ; First, an uncom- mon excitation of the attention, and of all the intellectual powers ; And, secondly, a removal of those checks, which attend the sober and the rational in their reasonings. Some of the checks, which retard the process of reason- ing in the case of men, whose powers are in a good state. are these. (1) There is a distrust of phraseology. a fear of mistakes from the ambiguity and vagueness of Ian- MENTAL ALIENATION. 53g guage. The object of a rational man is supposed to be to arrive at truth, and not merely to gain a victory. He, therefore, feels anxious, not only to employ terms, which appear to himself proper, but which shall be rightly under- stood by his opponent. But the irrational man, as might be expected, does not find himself embarrassed with con- siderations of this nature. (2) A second obstruction to facility and promptness in argumentation, in the case of the soberminded and rational, is this ; They fear, that they may not be in possession of all those premises, on which the solution will be found in the event to depend. — Many disputes are carried on without previously forming an ac- quaintance with those facts, which are necessarily and prominently involved. While disputants of sound minds have any suspicion on tiiis point, and know not but it will be labour lost, they of course feel their interest in the dis- pute very much diminished. (3) The third circumstance, to which reference was had, is this ; The influence of certain feelings of propriety and of good sense, which or- dinarily govern men in the full exercise of their powers. The disputant feels himself under obligations to profess a deference for his opponent ; it is due to the customary forms of society. He is sometimes restrained and embar- rassed by what he considers due to those, who are present to hear the argument. He is particularly careful to say nothing foolish, absurd, or uncharitable. All these things weigh nothing with the insane person. He is not troubled about exactness of expression, or the observance of ceremonies, but strangely rushes, as it were, upon the main points of the controversy, regardless of all minor considerations.* §. 456. Of the alienation or insanity of the passions. We come now to some species of mental alienation, more formidable, than those hitherto mentioned. They are not exclusively limited in their effects to the subjects of 4hem ; but are sources of loss, danger, and injury to others. * See Stewart's Philosophy of the Human Mind, Vol. II. ca. m 528 MENTAL ALIENATION. So much so, that it is always necessary to watch the per- sons bhiicted, and often, not only to place them in lunatic asylums, but to confine them with chains. — Among the va- rious species of this more decided and fearful derange* ment of the mind, we may first notice the insanity of the passions, otherwise called insanity or madness without delirium. The powers of perception in cases of this kind are in full and just exercise, and the mind ordinarily has all its usual ability in comparing ideas and in deducing conclu- sions. This might be expected from the circumstance of this form of insanity being in general intermittent, and only breaking out at intervals. It causes no permanent alteration in what are usually designated as the intellectual powers, in distinction from the affections. It perverts the passions solely, and the victim of it is borne forward to his purpose with a blind, but irresistible violence. Pinel mentions a mechanic in the asylum, Bicetre, who was subject to this form of insanity. It was intermit- tent. He knew, when the paroxysms of passion were com- ing on, and even gave warnings to those, who were expos- ed to its effects, to make their escape. His powers of cor- rectly judging remained unshaken in the commission of the most violent and outrageous acts. He saw clearly their impropriety, but was unable to restrain himself; and after the cessation of the paroxysms, was often filled with the deepest grief. §. 457. Singular instance of this form of insanity. At the time of the French Revolution, a band of sol- diers violently entered the above mentioned Asylum, under pretence of liberating certain victims, whom they asserted to have been unjustly confined there by the tyrannical au- thority of the French monarchs. They marched inarms from one cell to another, passing such, as were evi- dently insane. At last they came to a maniac, bound In chains, who arrested their attention. "Is it not shame- ful, (said he,) that I should be bound in chains, and con- MENTAL ALIENATION. 529 founded with madmen ? It is an instance of the most flagrant injustice." He conjured the soldiers to termin- ate such oppression, and to become his liberators. The soldiers called for the governor of the Asylum, and present- ing their sabres to his breast, demanded an explanation of his conduct in confining this man. The governor en- deavoured to reason with them ; he assured them there are instances of madness, where there is no failure of the reasoning powers ; but to no purpose. The sol- diers released the maniac, shouting, Vive la Republique. The sight of so many' armed men, and their shouting sud- denly brought on the ungovernable paroxysm. The mad- man flew upon his liberators ; wrested his sabre from the nearest soldier, and commenced an indiscriminate attack. The soldiers, more convinced by their wounds and their apprehensions of danger, tnan by milder forms of argu- ment, were glad to return him to the protection of the Asylum. §. 458. Sometimes induced by early excessive indulgence. This form of insanity appears in some instances to have a natural origin, like some of the cases of idiotism. That uncontrollable violence of the passions, which is its characteristic, is developed in the early periods of child hood, and indicates the existence of some inherent evil in the mental organization. In other instances, it does not make its appearance in early life, but is superinduced by long continued and excessive indulgence. A child is found to have a violent temper ; his parents, in the excess of a weak attachment, indulge his impetuosity; his pas- sions gain strength ; the will becomes subservient to them ; and at last he is justly looked upon, as equally dangerous with any other maniac, and is consigned for safe keeping to a hospital. It may be laid down as a truth, confirmed by what we know of our intellectual tendencies, also by many facts on record, that all persons, whose passions are permitted to run on without restraint,are rapidly approach- ing the state of the most deplorable mental alienation. It 530 MENTAL ALIENATION. is not the indulgence of one passion merely, to which the remark applies, but all. The form of insanity, to which the remarks in this, and the two proceding sections, have relation, is otherwise known, as insanity of the will. But uiey are the same thing ; with correct views of the mind, we cannot separate them. We always find the will, the mental choice or determination, coinciding with the pre- ponderating motives. Inasmuch, therefore, as we have already seen, that nothing has, or can have the character of a motive, independently of the affections, it follows, that there is no act of the will, independently of a partic- ular state of the affections, that is, of the passions. Con- sequently, the insanity of the affections or passions in- volves, and implies insanity of the will. §. 459. Of total insanity or delirium. The insanity of the passions was characterized as insan- ity without delirium ; because the disease or alienation ex- ists rather in that part of our mental constitution, called the affections or passions, than in what are distinctively term- ed the intellectual powers ; although its paroxysms may be so violent as to pervert for a short time the entire men- tal action. But delirious insanity implies a perverted and disordered state of the whole soul ; of the emotions and passions as well as of the purely intellectual powers. It reaches and controls alike the powers of perception, of association, of belief and reasoning, and the passions of sympathy, love, hatred, and fear. Not a single intellec- tual susceptibility, nor a single affection, retains a cor- rect and consistent action, although they may not all be perverted and deranged in an equal degree. Hence it is not only easily distinguished from the mere in- sanity of the passions, but from partial insanity in general, which implies an alienation of only one of the intellectual powers, or at most of a part of them. The emotions and passions, attendant on delirious in- sanity, are sometimes exceedingly marked and strong, whether of rage, grief, or gaiety ; and are accompanied MENTAL ALIENATION :,U With violence of action. Hence it is sometimes termed furor or madness, and the subjects of it maniacs. §. 460. Of perception in cases of delirious insanity. As the insanity of delirium is a combination of the va- rious forms of partial insanity, there will of course be u derangement of the powers of perception. The senses of taste, touch, smell, hearing, and sight may be all af- fected ; but particularly the sense of sight. In visual perception, all objects at first seem to touch the eye. Our estimate of distance by the sight is not an original, but an acquired perception. What we term per- ception of distance, therefore, always presupposes certain preceding acts of the mind. But in delirious insanity the power of judging is subverted and lost. Hence the de- lirious man often mistakes in the perception of distance, and it is no uncommon thing to find him attempting to throw himself from the windows of an upper story, or down the brink of a precipice. Such attempts can be account- ed for on no other supposition, than a mistake of sight, except in some instances of very violent paroxysms, or of a permanent inclination to self-destruction. The same causes, which perplex their perceptions of distance, confuse their notions of extension, of the form of bodies, and of the outlines of any object of sight what- ever. Hence delirious persons, as in cases of partial insanity, are found to experience great difficulty in read- ing a book, and often confound objects and persons, in which there are abundant marks of difference. It is not only obvious from the nature of external perception, but is well ascertained from the confessions of maniacs, who have recovered, and have remembered what passed in their delirium, that there may be a derangement of the visual perception so great, as to occasion the most absurd mistakes. They sometimes see objects and persons, which are not present. This fact may in part be explained in the same way, as those mental states, which we have termed appa- ritions. Hence madmen are. as they suppose, surrounded 532 MENTAL ALIENATION- at times with demons, angels, bodies of armed men, die They declaim, put themselves in attitudes of defence, vio- lently beat the air, cry out for help, gain victories ; all oc- casioned by these false or mistaken appearances. §. 461. Of association in delirious insanity. In the form of insanity, which is termed delirious, the law of association or suggestion is found to be greatly af- fected. Rapidity of association was given, as a character- istic of that form of partial insanity, which was termed lightheadedness or ' demence.' But in delirium it often exists in a far more striking degree. In lightheaded- ness, the indirect power, which is retained and exercised by the will over trains of thought, is only diminished; in delirium it is often wholly annulled. Every new object, every new countenance, every noise heard in the room, where the delirious person is, or noises, that are heard from without, indeed every thing, with which thoughts and feelings have been formerly associated, revives those an- cient trains of mental acts. They are poured in upon him like a flood ; and it is easier to conceive, than des- cribe what a tumultuous chaos the mind in such a condi- tion must be. When we consider, that these uncalled for trains of thoughts are thrown in upon the maniac, when his system is in great nervous excitement, and that he is unable to resist or to regulate the instantaneous trans-p ference of the mind from subject to subject, it is no won- der, that he should exhibit much external agitation, wild- ness of countenance, violence of gestures, outcries, &c. It is further to be remarked here, that the utter inabil- ity of the madman to control the train of associated thoughts is one cause of the perversion of the power of perception. It appeared in the chapter on Dreaming, (§. 261.) that when our conceptions of things are not sus- ceptible of any guidance and control from the will, they have a tendency to take the place of, and appear to us much the same, as the original perceptions. This is one cause, why they mistake their mere thoughts for beings, the mere workings of the mind for external and local ex jstences. MENTAL ALIENATION. 503 §. 462. Illustration of the above section. The following account of the rapid mental transitions bf an insane person in the New Eethlem Hospital, London, will go to confirm, and illustrate what has been said. Like all characteristic traits of insanity, it is a melancholy pic- ture. Difficult as it is to conceive, that such an endless series of topics should be crowded into the mind in a space so short, it is only what is realized in all cases of delirious insanity, where a derangement of the laws of association is the prominent trait.— '■ — " Wholly unlimited by the iden- tities of time, place, or person, he instantly accommodates each to his fancy, and in a moment he is any where, and every where, and any body, by turns. At one time he im- agines himself to be the Lord Chancellor, or, as he em- phatically styles himself, "Young Baggs ;' and no mortal tongue ever maintained the loquacity of the law, or talked with more incessant volubility, than his imaginary lord- ship. He would decide ten thousand causes in a day ; he would accuse, try, condemn, and execute whole nations in a breath. His language was as wild and far-fetched as his fancy was various ; topics of all kinds seemed to come tumbling into his mind, without order or connexion. Of every name he heard mentioned he instantly became the personal representative, and says, 'I am he ;' thus he is by turns Bonaparte, the King, the Duke of Wellington, Lord Londonderry, the Persian Ambassador, Mr. Pope, Homer, Smollett, Hume, Gibbon, John Bunyan, &c. "He is successively a Hottentot, a Lascar, a Spaniard, a Turk, a Jew, a Scotsman. He has been in all situations and occupations of life, according to his own account ; a potboy at Hampstead, a shoeblack, a chimney-sweeper, an East-India Director, a kennel-raker, a gold -finder, an oys- ter-woman, a Jew cast-clothesman, a police justice, a judge, a keeper of Newgate, and, us he styles it, ' His Majesty's law iron-monger for the home department :' nav, he has even been Jack Ketch, and has hung hundreds ; he has been a soldier, and has killed thousands ; a Portuguese, and poniarded scores ; a Jew pedlar, and cheated all the world; a member of Parliament for London, and betrayed 67 ?m MENTAL ALIENATION. I his constituents ; a Lord Mayor, a bishop, an admiral, a dan- cing-master, a Rabbi, Grimaldi in the pantomime, and ten thousand other occupations, that no tongue or memory but his own could enumerate. The specimen just given may serve as a sample of what is passing in his fancy." §. 463. Of the memory in connection with delirious insanity. While the other states and laws of the mind, such as perception, association, and reasoning, are disordered, the memory does not remain unaffected. The past life of the delirious person is an utter chaos. Such is the rapidity, with which thoughts crowd in upon him, that he is una- ble for this reason, if there were no other, to arrange, and classify, and refer them to their proper periods. He may remember for a few moments, perhaps for a few hours. He may revengefully treasure up some act of punishment for a much longer time ; but this does not affect the truth of the general statement. The heterogeneous confusion of his own intellect might be assumed, as a fit symbol of his notions of the great multitude of facts, which have ta- ken place in the past. See here then the picture of the mind, that noble fabric, in the more formidable sta- ges of delirium — the power of perception disordered in all its forms — the laws of association disturbed and torn from the guidance of the will — the susceptibility of belief perverted — the memory gone, and with it the world of the past — the reasoning power, and with it the world of the future. This cumbersome mass of intellectual ruins is convulsed and rendered still more hideous, by the demor- alization and unrestrained impulses of the passions. Note. There is sometimes a peculiar, but transitory state of mind, bordering on partial insanity, which deserves a mention here ; although it is experienced in persons, who are sane. It is a strange propensity in a person to do in certain situations those things, which, if dotie, would clearly prove him deranged. The instances of these very sudden and singular impulses are probably not numerous. As an illustration, a person of a perfectly sane mind acknowledged, that whenever he passed a particular bridge, he felt a slight inclina- tion to throw himself over, accompanied, with some dread, that hi? inclination might hurry him away. MENTAL ALIENATION. 53$ §. 4*34. Of the causes of the different kinds of insanity. Some of the causes of idiocy were mentioned in a for- mer section ; and something is to be remarked here of the causes of the different forms of that mental alienation, called ii.. anity. The causes of insanity, whether par- tial or delirious, are of two kinds, moral, and physical. All diseases, which violently affect the physical system, such as epilepsy, fevers, and apoplexy, also injuries of the brain, &c., indirectly affect the mind, and may cause per- manent insanity. It is worthy of remark also in regard to this form of mental alienation, that it is in some degree hereditary ; hence it is often said of particular families, that they are predisposed to insanity. The father, son, and grandson have not only been known to become suc- cessively insane, but the derangement has sometimes ta- ken place in each case, in the same year of their life. There are also various moral causes of mental alienation. It has been caused, among other circumstances of a moral nature, by disappointed ambition. Disappointment in mercantile and other speculations, and in any ardent ex- pectations whatever, often has the same effect. Erroneous religious opinions, and great excitements of feeling on reli- gious subjects have contributed towards supplying lunatic hospitals. An unrestrained indulgence of any of the pas- sions is found to be attended with the same results. We find a fruitful source of mental derangement in the vicissitudes of political events. A recent writer in a French medical work says, that he could give a history of the political revolutions in France from the taking of the Bas- tille, down to the return of Bonaparte from Elba, by de- tailing the causes of certain cases of insanity.* It ap- pears from reports from insane hospitals, that moral cau- ses of insanity are more numerous, than physical. But in many cases the influence of both is combined together. *Dictionaire des Sciences Medicales, Art. Folie, (Esquirol.) See also Des Causes Morales et Physiques des Maladies Mentales par F. Voisin ; Influence des institutions politiques. 536 MENTAL ALIENATION. §. 465. Of moral accountability in mental alienation. It is in some respects a difficult inquiry, Whether mefi t who are in a state of mental alienation, are morally ac- countable ? Whether they are subjects of merit or demer- it ? And if so, in what cases, and how far? In deter- mining these questions, there ought to be a distinction made between cases of insanity of the passions and of partial insanity of the intellectual powers, and cases of delirium or total insanity. In the last, there is evidently no accountability. In the former instances, a judgment should be formed from the circumstances of the particu- lar case under consideration. Accordingly this may be laid down as a general rule in respect to this subject, and perhaps it is the only one, which can be ; viz. Persons of an alienated mind, whether they be idiots or insane, are not to be considered accoun- table, are not subjects of praise or blame, whenever it ap- pears, that the mental alienation extends to, and annuls the power of judging. And this is the case with all per- sons, who are the subjects of total insanity. When the insanity is partial, it would seem to follow, therefore, that the first inquiry should be, whether the action committed comes within the range of the malady. For a person, who is insane on one subject merely, will probably be found to labour under a perversion of judgment in respect to that particular subject, no less than if the insanity were total or delirious. Consequently, a distinction may be justly set up, although it will require much caution in doing it, between those actions, which can be clearly found within the limits of the person's insanity, and those, which evi-> dently fall without it. §• 466. Of the imputation of insanity to individuals. While the existence of insanity, so far as materially to affect the power of judging, takes away accountability in whole or in part, it affects proportionally the relations, which the subjects of it sustain to society. In all well organized communities it will be found to follow from the terms of the civil compact, that those, who exercise sove~ MENTAL ALIENATION 537 reignty, are bound to afford protection to the citizens in general, and to individuals in particular, in certain cases. Hence they will be found to have taken precautionary measures, the nature of which all are acquainted with, to protect the community against the injuries, which insane persons might commit, and also to alleviate that unhappi- ness, which they necessarily bring, in a greater or less de- gree, on themselves and families. Accordingly it is implied in the imputation of insanity to individuals, by an act of the civil authorities, that the in- sane person is deprived of that ability of self government, which is the common allotment of men ; that the strong bonds of friendship, of family, and of country, which once kept him in his appropriate station in society, are loosen- ed ; and that he must find, in the substitution of the will and guardianship of the State, that oversight and protec- tion, which he' has lost by the alienation of his own. While all must admit the propriety of this course, where the circumstances of the case justly demand it, it must be conceded, that nothing can be more solemn and affecting, than such a public imputation of derangement, which, whether just or unjust, practically annihilates the civil and social character of man, and seals his degradation in these respects. It is a right, therefore, which ought not to be exercised but upon good ground, and the exercise of which ought to be understood to require, and to imply a correct acquaintance with this difficult, but practical and important subject. And the more so, because there have been depraved individuals, who have endeavoured to fas- ten the charge of insanity upon others from some interest- ed motives, in order to gratify malignant passions, or to control their persons, or property. A suitable protection against the designs of such is to be had, not merely in the integrity of those, who are to judge in these cases, but in their acquaintance with the laws and tendencies of the mind. Before leaving this topic, one suggestion further re- mains. In forming an opinion as to the mental aliena- tion of an individual, not only those particular facts are to 538 MENTAL ALIENATION. be considered, which are supposed to indicate insanity, but they are to be estimated, in connection with constitu- tional traits of character. That rapidity of association, that gay and heedless transition from subject to subject, which is natural in one, and occasions no surprize, would be regarded in another, as a positive indication of the disturbance of the mental powers. §. 467. Of the treatment of the insane. In closing this view of mental maladies, it is proper to make some suggestions on the treatment due to those of our fellow beings, who are thus afflicted. It is no uncom- mon thing to see them treated with unkindness. Al- though they may not, in general, so readily perceive and so intensely feel, as others, the injuries they receive, any cruelty of treatment towards them is very unjustifiable in the authors of it. It is wrong on the general principle, that we are bound, not to cause and increase suffering unnecessarily in any case whatever, even in the animal creation. The poet Cowper uttered the sentiment of all kind and honourable men, when he declared, he would not reckon in his list of friends the man, who should needlessly set foot upon a worm. It is wrong also, on the principle, that we should do to others, as we ourselves wish to be done by. The per- son of an alienated mind may not be able to reason on the subject of what is due to him, but those, who possess rational powers, can. They cannot fail to see the appli- cation of the Scriptural principle, which has been men- tioned, in the present instance. All persons whatever are subject to these mental evils ; and it is presumed, that no one would be easy in the anticipation of being left with- out care and assistance from others, when he should be unable to take care of himself. If, therefore, we take the ground, that persons in the state of idiocy, or of delirium, or of any of the forms of mental alienation, are not enti- tled to care and kindness, we are possibly treasuring up for ourselves a retribution of a similar fearful character. *2*2~« w MENTAL ALIENATION. 5&9 Again ; ill treatment of cases of this kind is a tacit re- flection on the Supreme Being, which we cannot, without great self-ignorance, imagine ourselves authorized to make. He has in his wisdom permitted them to exist, as memo- rials of human weakness, and as useful commentaries on pride of intellect ; and perhaps also to give us an oppor- tunity of exercising the noble virtues of charity and hu- manity. We are, therefore, bound to receive the instruc- tions they impart, and to exercise the virtues, which they vixe us an opportunity of exercising ; otherwise, we cast contempt on Him, whose almighty hand orders the distinc- tions, and distributes the allotments both of bodily and of intellectual life. »- j>sote. — The subject of insanity in its various forms is so intimately connected with human happiness, that it could not fail very early to arrest attention. Medical writers in particular had abundant occasion to notice the causes •and circumstances of its developement. A numerous catalogue of them have made it the subject of their re- ( marks. And while it was their prominent object to pre- vent or to alleviate one of the sorest maladies, which it is the lot of human nature to surTer,they have indirectly thrown light on the whole field of the philosophy of the mind. Where so many have written, it would be some labour to make out a full list, and a weightier and more responsi- ble task, to discriminate their respective merits. Without, therefore, presuming to undertake it, we merely embrace this opportunity to mention among others, as writings that may be read with advantage, M. Pinel's Treatise on In- sanity, Rush on the Diseases of the Mind, and the article- on the subject of mental alienation in the Dictionairk des Sciences Medicales. There is in these writings an aptness of illustration, a philanthropic eloquence, a spirit of philosophy, which can hardly fail to interest and instruct. rj CHAPTER THIRTY IVINTH ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. §. 468. Of the meaning of prejudices. In forming our judgments or opinions of things, we are led to take into consideration a variety of facts and circumstances, which are applicable to the particular sub- jects under consideration, and are fitted to influence the mind in the formation of such opinions. The circum- stances and facts, which are thus fitted to influence our belief, in consequence of giving new views in respect to the subjects before us, are commonly termed evidence. Prejudices, to which we are now to attend, are judg- ments or opinions, which are formed without a suitable regard to the evidence, properly pertaining to them. Whenever, for example, sources of evidence, which are within our reach, are overlooked ; or when the facts and incidental circumstances, constituting the evidence, are al- lowed to have loo great, or too little influence. A mind, which discovers a tendency thus to overlook or misapply grounds of evidence, is called, a prejudiced mind. A greater or less degree of importance will be attached to this subject, according as we attach a greater or less de- gree of value to the possession of correct and enlightened opinions. None can consider it unimportant ; many will justly regard it, as of the very highest importance. Jt is the object of this chapter to point out some of the princi- pal sources of prejudices. ORIGIN OP PREJUDICES. 541 $. 469. Of constitutional prejudices. The formation of opinions without a suitable regard to the evidence may sometimes be attributed to something in the constitution, to some original weakness or obliquity in the mental character ; as in the following instances. Some person's minds appear to be limited in their range ; they are incapable of taking in, and retaining, and corn- paring a number of propositions at once. Inasmuch, therefore, as they are incapable of doing this, and must, consequently, let many facts and incidents go without proper examination, they are led to adopt and cherish opinions on other grounds, than a suitable regard to the evidence. Such opinions, although those, who maintain them, may be thought to be less culpable than many oth- ers, are rightly considered prejudices. Another class are those, who are naturally too credulous ; who are ready to receive every thing for truth, which has even the slight- est degree of evidence in its favour. It seems to be alto- gether impossible to induce them to pause, to examine, to compare, to reflect. They readily believe whatever they read, or hear asserted, until they find it contradicted; and then they adopt some other opinion as readily and on as slight ground, as they adopted the first, which they retain no longer than they are met with, and driven about by the next wind of doctrine. Other persons are of a temper nearly the reverse ; they are naturally obstinate, and con- tentious, and are unwilling to receive any thing, that is proposed for their belief, however reasonable it may be. Consequently their opinions, so far as they are the oppo- site of those, which have a higher degree of evidence in their favour, are prejudices. And this is the case with very many of them. Erroneous opinions of this kind, which can be traced back to some peculiarity originally inherent in the mind, may be termed constitutional preju- dices. When such constitutional defects are excessive, and disqualify the subjects of them for the ordinary concerns of life, they are considered as coming within some of the multiplied forms of mental alienation. (See §. 450.) 68 342 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES*. §. 470. Of prejudices in favour of our youth. Many of those opinions, which we form of the scenes, and events, and characters of our youthful days, are preju- dices. As we look back and- frame an estimation of that early period, the associates of our childhood and youth seem to us to have been without a crime ; the interests of parents were never at variance with those of their children j masters sought the good of their dependants ; the poor were fed ; magistrates were virtuous; the religious teach- ers were eminently holy men. Alas, for these evil days of our manhood and old age, in which there is such rottenness in all civil institutions, that have been changed ; such cor- ruption in every new set of magistrates ; and such depravity in the great mass of the people ! The causes of this appa- rent disparity between the world, as it exists now, and for- merly, are briefly these. In the morning of life every thing is new ; our attention is arrested by a multitude of novel objects, and the mind is filled with delight. Happy ourselves we imagine, that, with few exceptions, all others are not less so ; and while our own hearts are conscioui of innocence, we are exempt from any suspicion of crime in others. In a word, we suppose all the world to be hap- py, all the world to be innocent and just, because we are conscious of the existence of rectitude and truth and inno- cence in ourselves, and are too inexperienced to be aware of the frequency of their absence from the great mass of mankind. As we grow up, cares multiply, bodily infirmi- ties increase ; we more often see collisions of interest, hollow professions, deceptive expedients, and intriguing arts of all kinds ; and what is worse, we discover in our own breasts more of distrust, jealousy, passion, and other evils, than had been developed in our earlier days. The true solution then is this ; We attribute to one thing what belongs to another. We ascribe to the great mass of mankind changes, which have only taken place in ourselves. The world appears to us differently from what it did when we were young, not because it has itself essentially altered, which can never be supposed to have happened in a single life of man ; but because we, as ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 5*3 individuals, have become more acquainted with its true character, and are made more sensibly to feel the pressure of its many ills. It has been by means of this prejudice in favour of our youth, that a permanency has often been communicated to political institutions, to which they were not entitled by their intrinsic merits. It has often excited surprise in the historian, that forms of government, which were unjust in their operation, expensive, and every way defective, have been sustained without a murmur, and even loved and ven- erated by those, who have chiefly experienced their evil results. It is the same government, (and if it be a monar- chy, the same administrators of it, or their lineal descen- dants,) which existed, when they were young. They then loved it, because they neither understood, nor felt its de- fects, and because at that period every thing was new, and interesting, and lovely. The attachments then formed continue, at least till manhood; and then it is too. late with the greater part of mankind to throw off old affec- tions, and to form the mind to the love of a new and bet- ter order of things. And thus, in consequence of the mental blindness, superinduced by prejudices of this sort, errours are perpetuated, gross abuses are too patiently borne, and each generation entails an inheritance of wretchedness on the succeeding. §. 471. Of prejudices of home and country. There are prejudices in favour of one's native country and of the village, where he may happen to have been brought up, and to live. And this prejudice in favour of • one's own residence and nation is too often attended with a contempt and dislike of those, who have their origin elsewhere. It is notorious, that two of the most powerful and well informed nations on earth, the French and Eng- lish, have for a long series of years affected to despise, , and have most certainly hated each other. The French and Spaniards, who also are near neighbours to each other, have hardly been on better terms. The Italians, flattered by the eminent success of some of their countrymen in the 914 ORIGIN 01' PREJUDICES. arts, terra the Germans blockheads ; while the Germans get their satisfaction by bestowing the same appellation on the Swiss. Even the poor and ignorant Greenlander has his grounds of triumph ; and amid his rocks and snows fondly imagines, that there is no home, no freedom like his. Different explanations may be given of the origin of this strong attachment to our nation and the place of our residence, and of the contempt, which is often entertained for others. Whatever explanation may be adopted, the existence of such feelings is well known, and their influ- ence in perplexing our judgments of men and things ex- tensively felt. This is seen in the criticisms, which are made by the authors of one nation on the productions in literature and the arts of another. With the Englishman, Montesquieu is superficial and dull ; with the Frenchman, Newton dwindles down to a mere almanack-maker ; in one country a writer is extolled on account of the place of his birth, and in another is decried and put down for the same reason. It is important to all to be aware of the ten- dency to form erroneous opinions in consequence of these predilections and antipathies. A mind well balanced, and anxious to know the truth and to do equal and exact jus- tice to all, will carefully guard against it. §. 472. Professional prejudices. Some erroneous opinions may be attributed to men's professions or callings in life. A little self-examination will convince us, that our feelings are apt to be unduly en- listed in favour of those, who are practising the same arts, pursuing the same studies, engaged in the same calling of whatever kind. When at any time it falls to us to discrim- inate between such, and persons of another art or calling; to determine which has the greatest merit, or is the deep- est in crime, there is no small difficulty in becoming en- tirely divested of this feeling. It continually rises up, even when we seem to be unconscious of it ; it gives a new aspect to the facts, which come under examination; it secretly but almost infallibly perplexes the decisions of men, who have the reputation of candour, and who would be offended at the imputation of intended injustice. ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 545 The causes of prejudices, arising from particular pro- fessions in life, are undoubtedly much the same, as those which are at the bottom of the partial sentiments, which people entertain of their own home and country. There is something in our constitution, which leads us to feel a deep interest in those, with whom we are much associa- ted, whose toils are the same, who have the same hope to stimulate, and the same opposition to encounter. Be- sides, our own selfish feelings are at work. Our honour, and consequently, our respectability are in some degree involved in that of the profession. As that rises or falls, individuals experience something of the elevation or de- pression. Under this class of prejudices may be reckoned those, resulting from that contraction and baking of the mind, which is often superinduced by an exclusive attention to one class of subjects, or to one train of thought. When a man, who has been taught in one science only, and whose mental operations have consequently been always running in one track, ventures out of it, and attempts to judge on other subjects, nothing is more common than for such an one to judge wrong. It is no easy matter for him to seize on the true distinctions of things beyond his par- ticular sphere of knowledge ; and he mistakes not only in respect to the nature of the things themselves, of which he is to judge, but also as to the nature and rules of the evidence applicable to them. An eminent mathemati- cian is said to have attempted to ascertain by calculation the ratio, in which the evidence of facts must decrease in the course of time, and to have fixed the period, when the evidence of the facts, on which Christianity is founded, shall become extinct, and when, in consequence, all reli- gious faith must be banished from the earth. §. 473. Prejudices of sects and parties. In religious sects, and in political or other parties, prejudices are still stronger, than those of particular arts and professions. In sects and parties there is a conflict of opinions, and not of trades; a rivalship of principles, and 546 ORIGIN OP PREJUDICES. not of mere labour and merchandize. It is, therefore, an active, an aspiring competition. Too restless to lie dor- mant, it is introduced in high-ways, and workshops, and private and public assemblies ; too ambitious to be easily overcome, it continually renews and perpetuates the con- flict. The prejudices, therefore, of sects and parties have all the elements of professional prejudices, embittered by constant exercise. They convulse nations ; they disturb the peace of neighbourhoods ; they break asunder the strong ties of family and kindred. The history of every republic, not excepting our own, affords abundant instances of the putting forth of these virulent and ungenerous tendencies. We do not mean to say, that a man cannot belong to a party without being prejudiced ; however difficult it may be, to be placed in that situation without being tinctured with those feelings. But wherever they actually exist, they deaden every honourable sentiment ; they perplex every noble principle. Nothing can be clearer evidence of this, than that we continually be- hold men of exalted patriotism, and of every way unsullied character, traduced by unfounded imputations and char- ges ; and which are known to be so by those political op- ponents, who make them. And it is a still more striking illustration of the strength of party prejudices, that we find the political measures, advocated or opposed by the same men, as they happen to be in or out of office ; or as the measures in question happen to be advocated or op- posed by the members of the other party. As if men, and not measures ; as if places, without regard to prin- ciples, w : ere to be the sole subject of inquiry. The prejudices of sects have been no less violent than those of political parties, as may be learnt from the hostility, which is yet exercised among them, and from the history of former persecutions and martyrdoms. Even philosophy has not been exempt ; different scien- tific systems have had their parties for and against ; and the serious and dignified pretensions of philosophic in- quiry have not always preserved them from virulent con- tentions, which were not merely discreditable to science. ORIGIN OP PREJUDICES. 547 but to human nature. We are told in the histories of philosophical opinions, that the controversies between the Realists and Nominalists ran so high, as to end not only in verbal disputes, but in blows. An eye-witness assures us, that the combatants might be seen, not only engaging with fists, but with clubs and swords, and that many were wounded, and some killed. Not a very suita- ble way, one would imagine, of deciding an abstract, meta- physical question. # $. 474. Prejudices of authority. Men often adopt erroneous opinions merely because" they are proposed by writers of great name. The writings of Aristotle were upheld as chief authorities for a number of centuries in Europe, and no more was necessary in sup- port of any controverted opinions, than to cite something favourable from them. The followers of Des Cartes receiv- ed hardly less implicitly the philosophical creed of that new master of science ; not so much because they had investiga- ted, and were convinced in view of the evidence before them, as because Des Cartes had said it. There have been teachers in religion, also in politics and other subordinate departments of science, who have had their followers for no better reason. Such prejudices have been a great hinder- ance to free discussion and the progress of knowledge. The influence of authority in giving a direction to peo- ple's opinions is not limited to persons, who can truly make pretensions to some superior wisdom ; it is also frequently exercised by mere riches, titles, outward splendour. This is often seen in republican states, where the people have the right of choosing their rulers, and of expressing their opinions on a variety of public questions. It is well, it not more than half of the people in any of the smaller cor- porations do not, in giving their suffrages, fall in with the sentiments, however absurd, of a few individuals, whoso riches enable them to make a somewhat greater figure than their poorer neighbours. But this is a very unreasonable prejudice. The poorer classes of the communitv, inas- much as they have but a small amount of property to boast. 548 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. of, ought at least to show in all cases, where they are at all capable of judging, that they have understandings, and possess and value freedom. §. 475. Prejudices of careless and indiscriminate reading. It has been remarked by men of careful observation, that those, who apply themselves most eagerly to reading, and do not combine with this practice a very considerable degree of caution and discrimination, are often led into a great number of errours. As they never pretend to ex- amine and to weigh subjects carefully, their minds can*be justly thought to be no better than a mere bundle of preju- dices, although they may be of a less tenacious kind, than those arising from other sources. If their author happens to be in an errour, which is very probable, as they take lit- tle or no pains in the selection of books, they have no way of avoiding it. Their only remedy is continual reading, which increases the evil ; like travellers, gotten into a wrong road, who are less likely to arrive at the place of their destination, the further they advance. Although many ideas are to be derived from books, and it would be no less unwise than unprofitable to throw them aside, they are not to be consulted to the neglect of our own invention and of that effort, without which there cannot be a well furnished, and well disciplined mind. It is easier to read than to meditate ; and he, who reads merely or chiefly because he has an aversion to thinking, may be a book-worm, and even be thought to be learned, and yet be far from reaping the full benefit, which he might receive from his intellectual powers. §. 476. Prejudices of presumption. It must be admitted, that there is a difference in men's understandings, that some, where the education has been the same, appear to have naturally greater intellectual parts, than others. Those, who are thus originally favour- ed above their competitors, are too apt to presume on such superiority, and to trust to their genius, where care, pa- tience, and labour would be much better auxiliaries. ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 5-U> Such men, who imagine, that their minds will not only be furnished with spontaneous materials, but regulated by a spontaneous and infallible discipline, may impose upon the ignorant, but they make but a poor figure in the pres- ence of learned and discerning persons. They will per- haps be found to have ideas enough, but there will be less prospect of their being suitably defined, compared to- gether, and adjusted. We could not expect this with any- better reason, than we can anticipate, that stones and tim- ber, the spontaneous products of nature, will of themselves, without labour and art, be arranged together into well constructed and convenient piles of buildings. §. 477. Prejudices of enthusiasm. Enthusiasm always implies some object, which the mind judges good and desirable, but the pursuit of which is attended with a strong excitement of the feelings. In genuine enthusiasm the ardent feeling, which is exercised towards the object of pursuit, is supposed to be excited by that object exclusively, and to be free from any mixture of selfishness. So that this trait is in general an exalted and noble one, although sometimes attended with effects, which it is necessary to guard against. There may be enthusi- asm in literature, politics, religion, the arts, war, &.c. Persons under the influence of enthusiasm are subject to prejudices ; that is, they form opinions without a cau- tious and suitable examination of all those facts and cir- cumstances, which properly pertain to them. They are urged forward by too violent an impulse to permit them to stop and to analyze ; many objections, which come in their way, are overlooked or disregarded ; while every thing, that is favourable to the objects before them, is made to assume an exaggerated importance. The glow of feeling, the impetuosity of the passions is made to take the place ' of cool and well-founded decisions. The scenes of the French Revolution illustrate the prejudices of enthusiasm. The object, which the principal actors had in view, the es- tablishment of freedom in France, was a good one. But hurried away by an excessive zeal, they magnified the dan- 69 :>:»l» ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES: gers, which threatened them ; while celebrating the right* of man, they violated the plainest principles of justice ; by arbitrary, capricious, and cruel acts they made even despotism itself desirable ; and in the end, after great sac- rifices and efforts, effectually defeated their own object. It should be added, however, that the evils of enthusi- asm are in general felt, only when it is excessive. A mod- erate share at least seems to be necessary, in overcoming the difficulties of all great undertakings. §. 478. Prejudices of superstition. Superstition, as the term is commonly employed, im- plies an excessive susceptibility of belief, arising from, or superinduced by fear. We do not often speak of a person as superstitious, unless we observe in him these two char- acteristics, excessive timidity on some subjects, combined with too great readiness of faith in respect to the same. The term, therefore, may be applied to the idolatrous wor- ship of the heathen ; to many of the mythological and oth- er traditions of nations ; to the belief in witchcraft and magic ; to a regard for omens, whether of a political, re- ligious, or domestic significance ; to an inordinate attach- ment to mere forms and ceremonies of whatever kind ; to any object or subject whatever, where fears may be enlist- ed, and where belief follows chiefly in consequence of such fears. The prejudices or erroneous opinions from this source have been exceedingly numerous. It is superstition, which, much to the disturbance of men's happiness and to the hindrance of the progress of the truth, has peopled the world with fairies and satyrs, with hypogriffs and dragons, with witches and centaurs, with the host of mythological deities, with marvellous sights in the sky, and with un- known sounds and voices on earth. There is no end to the catalogue of what may be seen, and heard, and believ- ed by men under its influence. In the consulship of Posthumius Albus and Furius Fusus, " the sky, (says the historian, Livy,) appeared as on fire in many places, and other portents either occurred to people's sight, or were ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 551 formed by terrour in their imaginations." (Bk. in. '. •">.) u Before sun-setting, (says Josephus,) chariots and troops of soldiers in their armour were seen running about among the clouds, and surrounding of cities. More- over, at that feast, which we call Pentecost, as the priests were going by night into the innpr Court of the Temple, as the custom was, to perform their sacred ministrations, they said, that, in the first place, they felt a quaking, and heard a noise, and after that they heard a sound as of a ureat multitude, saying, Let us remove hence." (Jewish War. Bk. vi.) . 47'J. The prejudices of superstition contagious. Of all the sources of prejudices, which exist in the mind, superstition seems to be the most contagious. When once fairly started, it rapidly goes from house to house, from village to village ; and sometimes infects whole pro- vinces. This was remarkably the case in the witchcruft delusions, which prevailed in *Sew England about the year 1630. The muscular convulsions, by means of which there were such bodily contortions and extraordinary in- voluntary feats, were probably propagated from one to another by Sympathetic Imitation, as has been the case at other times. (See chap, xxxii.) But the ascription of these convulsions to the direct agency of the prince of evil spirits was a superstitious notion of that period. This erroneous opinion rapidly spread through the community, and thus without doubt contributed to the continuance of the evils, the origin of which it professed to account for. All history affords instances, where this rapidity of men- tal infection has been experienced. When the supersti- tion is thus extensive, there is a constant reciprocal ac- tion and reaction of the minds contaminated with it; and the evil, both in itself and in its results, is in this way greatly increased. In the year 1812, the freedom of the whole state of Venezuela in South America came near being lost by the contagious influence of the prejudices arising from this cause. In the early part of that year a most violent earth- ™ 38 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. quake was experienced, which was attended with very considerable injury to many large towns, and with the destruction of nearly twenty thousand persons. As this calamity happened on the day and hour of a great reli- gious festival, it was interpreted by those, who were not favourably disposed towards the existing order of things, into a divine judgment, a manifestation of the displeasure of the Almighty at the wickedness of the people in at- tempting to secure their liberty. This idea was readily seized by the mass of the inhabitants, who were at that time ignorant and credulous. They joined in great num- bers the Spanish army, that was acting against the repub- lic ; the patriots became discouraged ; and after being defeated in a number of battles, Venezuela was again brought under its ancient masters. This disastrous result was owing to the prejudices of superstition. §. 480 Of superstition in times of distress and danger. The fact above-mentioned leads us to observe, that in all times of distress and danger the creations of a supersti- tious mind are greatly multiplied. Fear is one of the ap- propriate elements of such a mind ; and when difficulties and dangers thicken around it, nothing can surpass the de- gree of its excitement. Under the influence of the excite- ment of such dark periods, it notices many things, which at other times would not have attracted attention. A violent thunderstorm, which in times of tranquillity and peace, would have been unnoticed, has an ominous significancy in periods of revolutions and wars. The flight of birds, the. blowing of the winds, the rise and fall of the tides, the motion of the clouds, the darting of meteors, any of the commonest natural appearances arrest and fill with as- tonishment the minds of the superstitious at such seasons. §. 481. Prejudices of personal friendships and dislikes. If man were to choose a state of apathy and indiffer- ence, he would be unable to obtain it, at least permanent- ly : it would be refused to him by the very elements, the original laws of his nature. He is destined not only to ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 533 act, but to feel ; and his feelings in respect to others will vary, according as he has been more or less in their com- pany, as he has received from them greater or less favours or injuries. Hence he has his sympathies and his dislikes, his favourable and unfavourable sentiments, his friends and his opposers. And here we have another source of prej- udices. It is so well understood as to have become a com- mon saying, that it is a difficult matter to judge, with per- fect impartiality, either of friends or foes. A question ari- ses, we will suppose, concerning the merit or demerit, the right or wrong in the conduct of a friend; of one, in whose favour our sympathies are strongly enlisted. In the delib- eration upon the facts before us, which we attempt to hold, the mind is continually interrupted by the remembrance of those kind acts and excellent qualities, which have laid the foundation of our favourable partialities. They come before the eye of the judgment ; we attempt to remove them, and they return again ; they interrupt and cloud the clearness of its perceptions. And, hence, our judgments prove to be wrong. We experience the same difficulty in forming a just estimate of the character and conduct of those, for whom we entertain a personal dislike. There is a continual suggestion of acts and of qualities, which are the founda- tions of that dislike. The effect of this is partly to divert the mind from the question properly before it, and partly to diffuse over it a misrepresentation, which has its origin solely in our own feelings of antipathy. Our dislike in- terposes itself, as in the other case, between the thing to be judged of, and the susceptibility of judging, and renders the mind unable to perceive so clearly the true merits of the question, as it otherwise would. And here it may be further remarked, in connection With these views, that sympathy for sorrow, that the feel- ing of compassion for persons in distress has a tendency to perplex the judgment. It is true, that the perplexity and crrour of judgment in such cases is an amiable prejudice, but it is not less a prejudice. How often people under- fake the defence and justification of those, who are unfor- 554 ORIGIN OP PREJUDICES. tunate and distressed, merely from feelings of sympathy ! Afterwards when their cooler reason is permitted to de- cide, they learn to their mortification, that the subjects of those chivalrous feelings and partial judgments were alto- gether unworthy of such unreflecting kindness. §. 482. Prejudices of custom or fashion. The practices of different nations, and the prevailing notions in respect to them, differ from each other ; nor are those of the same nation the same at different periods. The modes of salutation in France are different from those of Russia ; and those of both nations are different from the forms, which are commonly received in Oriental coun- tries. There is no less diversity among nations in the fash- ions of dress, than in the methods of civility, and of polite intercourse. The dress of a Turk or of a Chinese would make but an ill figure on an Englishman ; and the English- man himself would reject with contempt the obsolete and neglected fashions of his own ancestors. The authori- ty of fashion extends also to political and religious ceremo- nies, to the regulation and management of domestic affairs, and to methods of education. No two nations are alike in all these respects ; and hardly one age, or one year agrees with another. We find in the authority of fashion or custom a fruitful source of limited and erroneous judgments. Each nation passes its censure on the customs, that prevail abroad, but are not adopted at home; each age ridicules the practices of a preceding age,that have since become obsolete. We have great reason for considering these limited and pre- mature judgments prejudices. We see no grounds, why one nation, especially where there is nearly an equal degree of mental improvement, should set itself up as an infallible judge of propriety and impropriety in the customs and ceremonies of another nation. But the fallacy consists not merely in ignorantly censuring others. The great body of people are found to be not more unanimous in censuring the opinions and fashions of other ages and nations, than they are, in blindly and implicitly adopting ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. those of their own, however trivial or absurd they may he. They do, as they see others do; this method they have followed from their youth up, without exercising their own judgment ; and in this way custom has become to them a ' second nature.' Some respect is due undoubtedly to the sentiments of the great mass of people around us, although these senti- ments are acknowledged to be prejudiced. A sudden and indiscriminate breaking off from all their practices is not to be recommended. But then a greater respect is due to truth, justice, and conscience ; something may be sacrificed to the weaknesses of human nature, but more must be given up to its nobler elements. §. 483. Correctives of fashionable prejudices. " Three things, (says Watts,) are to be considered, in order to deliver our understandings from this danger and slavery. 1. That the greatest part of the civil customs of any particular nation or age spring from humour rather than reason. Sometimes the humour of the prince prevails, and sometimes the humour of the people. It is either the great or the many, who dictate the fashion, and these have not always the highest reason on their side. 2. Consider also, that the customs of the same nations in different ages, the customs of different nations in the same age, and the customs of different towns and villages in the same nation, are very various and contrary to each other. The fashionable learning, language, sentiments, and rules of politeness, differ greatly in different countries and ages of mankind ; but truth and reason are of a more uniform and steady nature, and do not change with the fashion. Upon this account, to cure the prepossessions which arise from custom, it is of excellent use to travel and see the customs of various countries, and to read the travels of other men, and the history of past ages, that ev- ery thing may not seem strange and uncouth, which is not practised within the limits of our own parish, or in the narrow space of our own life-time. 556 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 3. Consider yet again, how often we ourselves have changed our opinions concerning the decency, propriety, or congruity of several modes or practices in the world, especially if we have lived to the age of thirty or forty. Custom or fashion, even in all its changes, has been ready to have some degree of ascendancy over our understand- ings, and what at one time seemed decent, appears obso- lete and disagreeable afterward, when the fashion chan- ges. Let us learn, therefore, to abstract as much as pos- sible from custom and fashion, when we would pass a judgment concerning the real value and intrinsic nature of things." §. 484. Prejudices of mental indolence. The catalogue of prejudices may be yet further in- creased ; it would be no easy matter to give a perfect en- umeration of them. Men often take up with erroneous sentiments, and expose themselves and others to all the ill effects of such wrong opinions, rather than submit to the mere labour of a thorough examination of them. These are prejudices of mental indolence. The mind, in the early part of life, exhibits much ac- tivity ; every thing, that is novel, arrests its attention ; and at that period all objects possess something of that charac- ter. After the fervour of youth has passed, this activity generally ceases ; the soul, no longer stimulated by the excitement of novelty, seeks repose. To doubt leads to inquiry ; inquiry is laborious, and, therefore, painful ; and the resolution is, consequently, taken to harbour no doubts, to ask no questions. This resolution, so fatal to the progress of the truth and to all right views, is sometimes taken for another rea- son. Inquiry, and the suggestion of doubts on all long es- tablished opinions are extremely distressing to those, who have not been in the habit of careful and exact investiga- tion; and who have, therefore, no well settled and satis- factory views as to the powers of the mind, and the nature and degrees of evidence. To tear them from their ancient opinions is like the separation of old friends. It is in ORIGIN OP PREJUDICES. :>5; itself exceedingly trying ; but there is a distress more poignant than that of the present moment, in the vaccilla- tion, the tossing to and fro of the mind, which for a long time succeeds. Men have been frequently induced by the experience of this unpleasant state of mind, which re- sults from their previous neglect to examine and to form opinions with care, to give up inquiry altogether. They become unwilling to have their mental slumbers disturb- ed ; preferring a quiet adherence to their long adopted belief, however erroneous it may be, to the endurance of the perplexing uneasiness of that state of scepticism, which intervenes between the rejection of old opinions and the formation of new. §. 485. Of the methods of subduing the prejudices of others. It is no easy task fully to remove the prejudices,with which in our intercourse in the world we shall have to contend ; especially where they have been of long standing. But in some cases we cannot decline attempting it, without evidently neglecting a duty, owed to a fellow-being as well as to ourselves. In the discharge of this difficult, but important duty, the following directions will not be without use. (1) In attempting to subdue the prejudices of others, a scrupulous regard is to be had to their feelings. It is implied in the very attempt to subdue a prejudice, that the views in respect to that particular subject, which we ourselves entertain, have the greater degree of correct- ness ; but even this implied superiority is not unnecessa- rily to be obtruded on the prejudiced man's attention, but rather to be kept out of sight. The poorest man has his treasures of self-love, the most ignorant and prejudiced man has his pride of intellect ; and if that self love or that pride of intellect be offended, in vain will be all attempts at a removal of their erroneous notions. So that a re- gard to the feelings and even the weaknesses of those, whose opinions we controvert, is due not more to the gen- eral claims of humanity, than to the success of the partic- ular object, which we have in hand. 7A So8 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. (2) Having by all suitable means conciliated the pre- judiced man's feelings, the wrong sentiments, which he cherishes, may be attacked by direct argument. They may be shown to be ill founded by reasoning, conclusive- ly deduced from propositions so plain and just, as to be admitted by both parties. This perhaps^ill answer the purpose, where the prejudices have not been of very long continuance, and have not acquired a great degree of strength. (3) Where they are found to be very tenacious, another course is thought to be preferable. Let no direct attack be made upon the prejudice, which is to be opposed, but let it pass with as little immediate notice, as possible. Efforts should be made, in the mean while, to instruct the individual in those acknowledged truths, which have a distant, but a sure connection with his false opinions. In this way his mind will be furnished with a mixture of truth and errour, instead of errour alone ; hereafter the discord- ant elements will be carrying on a conflict of themselves ; and his prejudices will certainly be weakened by this in- ward contest, and probably overthrown. Note. Many writers have examined the subject of prejudices. A number of valuable remarks on this topic are found in Malebranche's Search after Truth. Lord Bacon, to whom the sciences are so much indebted, deem- ed the subject of prejudices deserving a place in the No- vum Organum, where he has examined them under the designation of idola. Dr. Watts in his book of Logic has devoted to it a valuable chapter, and has also made some remarks on it in his Impiovement of the Mind. It has re- cently received new illustrations and embellishments from an article in the New Edinburgh Encyclopaedia- by M. Simonde de Sismondi. CHAPTER FORTIETH. EDUCATION. §. 486. Of the meaning and earliest sources of education. JtSif education we understand all the various meth- ods, by which the mind is furnished with knowledge and its intellectual and moral susceptibilities gradually deve- loped and improved. Education, therefore, includes those means, by which knowledge is communicated in infancy and childhood ; the influence of the examples, which are- set by parents and others ; the moral and religious prin- ciples, which are instilled either by books, or by conver sation ; instruction in the arts, sciences, and literature. As the process of intellectual culture commences with the very beginnings of existence, Nature has very kindly and providently taken care of it at an earlier period, than can be commenced by man. The infant no sooner comes into the world, than its mind expands itself for the reception of knowledge as nat- urally as its delighted eye opens to the beams of the sun. It begins to receive ideas by means of the senses ; having no other effectual medium of instruction, than what is im- mediately furnished by the Author of its existence. The earnestness, which it discovers, as it turns its eye towards the light or any bright object, its expression of surprise on hearing sudden and loud sounds, show, that the work of in- tellectual developement is begun. Not one of the senses is without a share in this work ; multitudes of new objects, operating upon all of them, become sources of knowledge ; oco education: hardly at any time, except in the hours of sleep, leaving die mind without occupation. The actions and words of its attendants soon begin to be noticed and imitated ; even its sufferings become auxiliary in the great process of fur- nishing the soul with new notions, and of unfolding its un- tried capacities. So that probably in the very first years of its life, there has been a gradual increase of knowledge, as great, when we consider that the mind was at first with- out ideas, as at any subsequent period. §. 487. Of the introduction of imaginary and false ideas. While the young mind, by the mere aid of that instru- mentality, which the author of nature has furnished, is continually storing up important thoughts, it also receives false ideas from various sources. These erroneous intima- tions are not necessarily to be attributed to the imperfec- tion of the senses, or to any thing originally in the consti- tution ; for the child is now supposed to be arrived at that period, when the suggestions of nature may be aided, or counteracted, or misrepresented by parents and domestics. In saying, that false notions may be introduced, we al- lude to the opinions, which children are led to entertain, of the existence of ghosts, spectres, or other imaginary be- ings. There is no want of true and important notions, which can be made an excuse for the introduction of such absurd ideas ; and it ought to be made a great object to keep the mind as free from them as possible. The greater heed is to be given to this direction, be- cause permanently evil consequences are found to result from the neglect ofit. The introduction of idets of ghosts, &.c. in early life ever afterwards renders one incapable of enduring darkness or solitude with any tolerable degree of comfort. Attention should be given, in the early periods of infancy and childhood, to the developement of the pas- sions. Those, which are vicious, should be checked and subdued, which can be done much more easily at that time, than afterwards. Virtuous and noble affections should be cherished ; such as gratitude to parents, benevolence to the poor, regard and love for the truth. EDUCATION. Ji8k §. 488. Of guarding against piejudicesin general. A superstitious belief in the agency of spiritual beings in the dark, which is early received, is only one of the many false notions, with which the mind is then liable to be impressed, by means of a wrong intellectual culture. The whole host of errours, which were mentioned in the chapter cm Prejudices, may have their origin at the same time; even errours of a moral, political, and religious na- ture. It is difficult to assign a period, when the mind is too young and powerless to receive some faint notions on these subjects. Individuals can sometimes state, as far back as their memory can reach, circumstances, (perhaps an accidental remark, perhaps an unimportant religious ceremony,) which have had a permanent influence. Prejudices so numerous and tenacious are introduced into the mind in childhood, that it requires much pains and time in after life to unlearn the false notions, to which we have been accustomed to render an implicit belief. The struggle against the influence, which they have acquired over us, will be found to be a severe one; and oftentimes it is quite unsuccessful. Many persons, who have been fully aware of the extent and evil nature of the tendencies, which were given to their minds in early life, have desired to counteract and annul their influence, and have made ef- forts to that purpose, but without effect. The seeds, that were sown in the nursery, and had borne their fruits in youth. hud taken too deep root to be eradicated in the full- ness of years. — We conclude, therefore, that it is a part of all right education, and the duty of all, who are engaged in instructing young minds, scrupulously to guard against the admission of any thing other than the truth. §. 489. Of an uniform developement of the mental powers. It is a great object, to render the mind comprehensive, and liberal. This object is necessarily defeated, when there is an exclusive attention to one, or even more of our intellectual susceptibilities, to the neglect of others. Con- sequently, such a degree of culture seems very properly to be bestowed upon all of them, as will secure to them a good 569 EDUCATION. share of strength and activity. Some persons poshes* imagination in a high degree, and the ' eye in a fine phren- zy rolling ;' but the vigour of the reasoning faculty is en- tirely demolished. They can picture in their imaginations, no less vividly than the writer himself, the scenes of love and war intheir favourite romances ; but cannot grasp con- secutive propositions, and feel the force of an argument. Others are mere reasoners without taste ; having the pow- er to follow out and fully subdue the difficulties of a de- monstration, but without a soul to feel the touches of sentiment, or an ear for the harmonies of poetry. We cannot help regarding such an education, which improves some of the intellectual powers, while others are greatly neglected, as erroneous and defective. . It tends to defeat the great purpose of life, which is not to establish a superiority in a few individuals over the rest of mankind, but to render all qualified to fulfil, in the best manner pos^ sible, the duties of men, of citizens, of members of families, and above all of Christians. §. 490. Of diversities in genius and temper. Striking differences are sometimes discernible in the temper and genius of youth. It is not always easy to say what they may be owing to,whether to something original in the mental organization, or to some accidental circum- stances, nor is it of great importance. In the process of education these differences should be regarded, and a pre- ference should be given to those parts of study, for which the mind appears to have a natural inclination. Not only individuals have mental characteristics, which distin- guish them from other individuals ; there are also heredita- ry traits in families, which go down from generation to generation. The members of one family successively dis- cover a fondness for abstract speculation, for all studies, which require the closest application of the reasoning pow- ers ; while the successive members of another are distin- guished for vivacity, wit, imagination. But while some reference ought to be had, in the course of an education to these circumstances, and a preference should be given, education. /tea in the selection of pursuits, to such personal and heredita- ry inclinations, there should be the greater caution in see- ing that other pursuits, to which there is supposed to be a natural aversion, be not wholly neglected. The man of imagination is not to leave his reasoning powers to neg- lect ; nor should the lover of mathematics forego those methods of intellectual culture, by which the taste may be quickened and improved. An exclusive attention to a particular pursuit, even when it seems to be warranted by the high claims of genius, would be inconsistent with that developement and exercise of all the intellectual powers, which we conceive to be implied in a perfect education. §. 491. Of moral and religious education. It ought not to be forgotten in the early periods of ed- ecation, that man is a moral being, and that he is, even in the commencement of life, susceptible of instruction in the distinctions of right and wrong. The doctrine, which Rousseau and others have studiously advanced, that child- hood and youth are incapable of receiving moral and reli- gious ideas, has provoked an indignant and triumphant opposition. Jt is both unsound in point of fact, and most pernicious in its tendency. All experience goes against it. In France, where it has found its most numerous advo- cates, its evil results have been very deeply felt. A re- eent French writer, who cannot be suspected of giving unfavourable representations of his countrymen without a cause, thinks, that the widely spread domestic corruption and miseries, which he acknowledges to exist, can be cor- rected only by a greater attention to early moral educa- tion. This remark implies, that the origin of those evils is to be found in the neglect of such education. As a first great principle in morals and religion, let the minds of the young be taught, that there is a God. It i» true, they will not understand his nature ; but does any one understand it ? Can the most mature and enlightened mind explain the mysteries of the Supreme Being? But yven children may have notions of God. which approach 564 EDUCATION. more nearly to truth than we are aware, although we ate unable to say precisely how far. Let the existence, there- fore, of the Supreme Being be carefully inculcated from the first moment, when access can be had to the mind. Let it be associated with the rising and setting of the sun ; with woods and waters; with that starry sky, which eleva- ted the devotions of the Psalmist ; with all the appearances of nature. When the young have become impressed with this idea, the natural consequence will be, that they will feel themselves under control and government, when absent from parents, guardians, and instructers. They be- lieve, they remember, that there is a Being every where present ; and this belief will be found to operate as a pow- erful restraint on evil propensities and actions. Having begun with the idea of a God, children should ne.\t be instructed, as soon as they are able to read, in certain portions of the Bible, that great system of duty, submission, and hope. It is no serious objection, if they do not fully understand the import of every passage, which is read, or committed to memory. Something will be un- derstood, which will be valuable in the end ; and the more so, because it will be associated with all the delightful recollections of early days. It is this part of education, which most effectually promotes individual happiness, making life comfortable amid all its roughnesses and tri- als ; which maintains peace in families, and affords secu- rity to the commonwealth, [n general, no length of time, no change of circumstances wholly destroys its propitious influence. And without it, without a belief in the exist- ence of God, and a high sense of accountability, all scien- ces will be in vain; all other attainments will utterly fail of making men happy, and widely useful. Multitudes of illustrations might be introduced to con- firm the views of this section. How natural is the follow- ing incident ! And how agreeable, therefore, to sound philosophy ! " When I was a little child, (said a reli- gious man,) my mother used to bid me kneel beside her, and place her hand upon my head, while she prayed. Ere I was old enough to know her worth, she died, and I wa- EDUCATION. 666 left much to my own guidance. Like others, I was inclin- ed to evil passions, but often felt myself checked, and as it were drawn back by the soft hand upon my head. When I was a young man, I travelled in foreign lands, and Was exposed to many temptations, but when I would have yielded, that same hand ivas upon my head, and I was saved. I seemed to feel its pressure, as in days of my happy in- fancy, and sometimes there came with it a voice in my heart, a voice that must be obeyed ; Oh, do not this wick- edness, my son, nor sin against thy God." §. 492. Of education for particular arts or professions. When men first flowed together into societies, they justly anticipated, that the wants of one would be supplied by the labours of another. As all could not devote them- selves to one calling, different pursuits were chosen by different individuals. In making their choice, they were influenced by a variety of circumstances ; by the wants of the community, by the wishes of their associates, or by their own predilections ; and hence we find the whole community divided into arts, or professions. In prescribing a course of study, regard should be had to the calling, which the person has in view ; and it should be suited, as much as possible, to promote the objects of that calling. It would be absurd, therefore, for a youth, intended for some mechanic art, to spend any leigth of time in the acquisition of languages, which might be very proper and important in a merchant, lawyer, or theolo- gian. But then we would not have such an one exclu- sively limited to those sciences, which have an immediate relation to his business in life. Let such sciences have a great share of his attention, but not all. Mechanics should remember, that they are men, as well as artisans ; and while they must give up much to their work-shops, they owe not a little to their friends, to their families, and to society. If they are disposed to, they can save ma- ny fragments of time from their appropriate callings, which may be profitably employed in disciplining all the see EDUCATION. mental powers, and in the improvement of the social and religious affections. §. 493. Formation of intellectual habits. The term, habit, may be applied either to bodily or mental operations, and expresses that readiness or facility, which is found to be the result of frequent practice. By practice, the limbs of the body may be strengthened, and may be brought to perform a variety of admirable mo- tions. Rope-dancers, and the performers of the circus ex- hibit feats, which would seem incredible, were we not led to expect almost any thing from the formation of habits. The results of intellectual habits are not less striking than those of the body ; the mind can be raised up to its high- est excellence only by repeated actions. Many traits, such as a turn for punning, for diverting stories, for imag- inary creations, for close reasoning, which are thought to be natural, are caused wholly by a repetition of the same acts. This great law of the mind, that it is susceptible of habits, or that it acquires a facility of doing merely by the repetition of doing, is of no small practical value in the conduct of education. If the student would become a good writer, he must form a habit ; that is, he must acquire a command of words, and a ready perception of what is beautiful or deformed in the combinations of thought and of language, by frequent practice. If he would become a ready speaker or reasoner, he must use himself to the task of connecting together his thoughts in arguments, and of expresing them in unpremeditated diction. If he would possess the power of framing at will ideal creations, it can only be done by a frequent exercise of the imagination. You may give to the pupil all the rules in the world ; you may succeed in making him fully understand the pro- priety of them ; and they will utterly avail nothing, unless he shall set his own mind at work, and not only go through with a series of mental operations, but continue to repeat them, until a facility is acquired. Here is the secret of excellence ; in frequent, and consequently labo- EDUCATION. 561 rious repetition. It is in this way, that good poets, good orators, mathematicians, painters, &c. are formed. In mul- titudes of instances a want of excellence is to be ascribed, not so much to any defect of nature, as to a repugnance to the formation of intellectual habits. And this is much the same as to say, that in all such cases the true occasion of mental inferiority is indolence. §. 494. Of a thorough examination of subjects. There is great difference between a superficial, and a thorough education ; between a mere smattering, and a sound knowledge of things. Owing partly to laziness, and partly to the vanity of appearing to know every thing, multitudes dissipate their time in skipping from one sort of knowledge to another, and in forming a slight acquaintance with all, without a full understanding of any. It is thought by many, that this is particularly the vice of the present times ; and that there has been a diminution of laborious and thorough scholarship, in proportion as books have multiplied, and there has been a wider dissemination of knowledge among all classes. One part of education is the storing of the mind with new ideas; another, and not a less important one, is the giving to all the mental powers a suitable discipline ; exercising those that are strong; strengthening those powers which are weak; maintaining among all of them a suitable balance. A thorough examination of subjects is an education, or train- ing up of the mind, in both these respects. It furnishes it with that species of knowledge, which is most valuable, because it is not mixed up with errours ; and, moreover, gives a strength and consistency to the whole structure of the intellect. These facts are highly worthy of being re- garded in the conduct of the understanding. The direction, which we would deduce from them, is. that the student be made to go to the foundation, the ulti- mate principles of every subject. Almost every topic, which is worthy of being examined, has its difficulties. The mind, when unaccustomed to patient labour, discovers a disposition to fly otf, and not to meet them. This feel- 568 EDUCATION. ing must not be yielded to ; but however reluctant, the mind should be again and again brought up to the attack, until the difficulties be overcome. It is not to be supposed from this, that the student's efforts are to be limited to one department of science exclusively ; it is merely meant, that he ought not to be permitted to go from one department of knowledge to another or from one subject to another,with- out thoroughly understanding, without going to the bottom of them. This practice once adopted will become in the end easy and delightful ; the love of truth will be strengthen- ed, and become a mighty principle ; the mind will approach difficulties with greater firmness and readiness ; and toil itself will no longer be a source of uneasiness. §. 495. Of a command of the attention. Those,who are required to follow the directions above given as to a thorough examination of subjects,will some- times complain, that they find a great obstacle in their ina- bility to fix their attention. They are not wanting in abil- ity to comprehend, but find it difficult to retain the mind in one position so long, as to enable them to connect to- gether all the parts of a subject, and duly estimate their various bearings. When this intellectual defect exists, it becomes a new reason for that thorough examination of subjects, which has been above recommended. It has probably been caused by a neglect of such strictness of examination, and by a too rapid and careless transition from one subject to another. Attention expresses the state of the mind, when it is steadily directed for some time, whether longer or shorter, to some object of sense or intellect, exclusive of other objects. All other objects are shutout; and when this exclusion of every thing else continues for some time, the attention is said to be in- tense. It is well known, that such an exclusive direc- tion of the mind cannot exist for any long period, without being accompanied with a feeling of desire or interest. In the greatest intellectual exertions, not the mere powers of judging, of abstracting, and of reasoning, are concerned ; EDUCATION. 560 there will also be a species of excitement of the feelings. And it will be found, that no feeling will effectually con- fine the minds of men in scientific pursuits, but a love of the truth. Mr. Locke thought, that the person, who should find out a remedy for the wandering of thoughts, would do great service to the studious and contemplative part of mankind. We know of no other remedy, than the one just mentioned, a love of the truth, a desire to know the nature and relations of things, merely for the sake of knowl- edge. It is true, that a conviction of duty will do much ; ambition and interest may possibly do more ; but when the mind is led to deep investigations by these views mere- ly, it is a tiresome process, and after all is ineffectual. Nothing but a love of the truth for its own sake will per* manently keep off the intrusions of foreign thoughts, and secure a certainty of success. The excellency, therefore, of knowledge, considered merely as suited to the intellect- ual nature of man, and as indicative of the character of that Being, who is the true source of all knowledge and the fashioner of all intellect, cannot be too frequently im- pressed. The person, who is capable of strictly fixing his atten- tion, will have a great advantage over others. Of two persons, who seem naturally to have equal parts, the one, who possesses this quality, will greatly excel. So that it is hardly too much to say, that it may become a sort of substitute for genius itself. §. 496. Physical education or the regard to he had to the hody. Although education, as the term is commonly employ- ed, has particular reference to the growth and expansion of the intellectual powers, the objects, at which it aims, cannot be fully secured without attention to the body. It is importanl, that the physical system should be sustained in force and activity. And where this precaution is neg- lected, where the bodily constitution is permitted to con- tract diseases, or rapidly to wear itself out from mere in- dolence, the objects of education are not only not secured, 570 EDUCATION. but defeated. Life is shortened ; the mind becomes in- ert ; and oftentimes is irrecoverably prostrated. Laying, therefore, out of view all other considerations, it seems of great consequence, that attention should be given to the growth and discipline of the physical powers, as a mere auxiliary to the bringing out, and disciplining of the mind. 497. Of social intercourse as a means of improvement. It can hardly be expected of a professed scholar, who must spend very many hours in solitary retirement, that he will appear to as much advantage, as one, who lives continually in polite society. But the evil effects on his address and manners might be overlooked, were it not. that an awkwardness and singularity may be impressed upon the mind from the same cause. The feelings, the opinions, and the taste of persons, who have mingled but little in society, differ in many respects from those of the mass of mankind around them. To meet, therefore, with others at suitable times, to enter into conversation and to compare opinions with them in argument, may be recom- mended, as a part of intellectual culture. In this way, new li^ht may be thrown on many subjects ; the faculties acquire a degree of readiness and vivacity, which will turn to good account, when they are pressed by sudden emer- gencies ; odd and singular notions will be extirpated. But if this direction be important to professed schol- ars, who are justly expected to remain much with their books, it is still more applicable to those, who go through a course of education, merely to prepare themselves for the world, and that they may the better discharge the du- ties of a man and a citizen among their fellows. §. 498. Of the education suitable to a citizen. There are some parts of education, which can be less safely omitted, than others ; and particularly that, which regards man as having certain social and civil rights, or as a citizen. In all legitimate governments, monarchical as well as republican, the will of the people is law ; they are EDU CATION. 571 the source of all rightful authority, and the seat of judg- ment, to which it must render up its account. -Hence there is a political importance attached to every individ- ual ; not merely to the learned civilian, but to every far- mer, mechanic, day-labourer. They may at times be concerned directly, and at the election of their rulers are always concerned indirectly, in the management of the af- fairs "of the whole nation; in the enactment of commer- cial regulations, in the adjustment of boundaries, in the formation of treaties. Every man should be taught from his childhood up, whatever may be his calling, or his standing in life, that he is a sharer in these things, and that he has not on- ly the unalienable rights, but the unalienable duties of a citizen. These ideas give to man a new character; they elevate him from his degradation; throwing the mind open to grand views, giving breadth and comprehension to the feelings, and honourable sentiments. We do not under- take to state in what way, or by the aid of what treatises, this part of education is to be conducted ; but only that an undue neglect of it is an unwarrantable contempt of the calls of the age, and a violation of the demands of human nature. §, 499. Of arithmetic, geography, mathematics, &c. In the remarks, that have. hitherto been made, we have taken precautions against the admission of early prejudi- ces. Rules have been given with reference to the insti- tution of a salutary mental discipline, with such remarks on the consideration of man, as a moral being and a mem- ber of society, as seemed to have a bearing on this impor- tant subject. We now suppose, that the mental powers of our pupil have become in some degree expanded, and in good exercise ; and there are spread before him many departments, which present claims on his attention of greater or less urgency. Something will be said on the study of languages in the next section ; a few remarks on some other departments of study will be made here. i^™ 572 EDUCATION. Arithmetic. This branch of study presents claims to attention. The difficulties, which are to be met with in this pursuit, are generally not greater, than can be over- come by the minds of young persons. It affords a good exercise to the reasoning powers, and helps to form habits of precision, arrangement, and classification. In cases where no foreign language is studied, we think of no de- partment of knowledge, which affords a better discipline to the young mind. Very much, however, depends upon the manner, in which it is taught. Geography. This science may also be studied at an early period. It interests curiosity ; gives employment to the memory, and is a fruitful source of new ideas. Pecu- liarities in the climates of different countries, traits in the character of the people, and striking curiosities naturally fall within the limits of this science. It is probably not so much the fault of the science as of those, who teach it, that with too many pupils the knowledge, which they get, is a mere record of names. At a somewhat later period, some departments of natural history may be attended to. Treatises on plants and animals are found to possess a great interest for the young mind ; and the information, which can be obtained on such subjects, is not less valuable than interesting. Mathematics. In a course of liberal education, mathematical studies deservedly hold a distinguished rank. Many have thought,, that if we would enjoy the use of our mental powers in all their perfection, we must devote much time to sciences, admitting of demonstration. Such sci- ences enable the mind to conceive with clearness, by form- ing a habit of distinguishing one idea from another; they quicken the susceptibility of judgment, and operate as a wholesome check on flights of imagination. Allowing to mathematics the credit, to which it is entitled, it is but just to remark, that in one respect its influence is less fa- vourable. Persons, whose minds are exclusively trained up to demonstrative reasoning, are liable to be perplexed and at a loss on subjects, which are not susceptible of demonstration. Their minds have been so long guided by EDUCATION. 573 the evidence of intuition, that when left to the helps of moral evidence merely, to circumstances and testimony, they are perplexed and uncertain to a degree, which ap- pears surprising to others, who have subjected themselves to a different sort of discipline. (See §. 297.) It is a circumstance much in favour of mathematical studies, that they are subservient to the pursuit of most of the other sciences; particularly of the different branches of natural philosophy. History. At a later period than the studies, which have been mentioned, comes that of history. A slight ac- quaintance may have been previously formed with the an- nals of one's own country, and perhaps something more. But a valuable knowledge of history implies much more than this. Xo one can have such an acquaintance with history as is desirable, without first informing himself of the characteristic properties of human nature. He must have studied the mind of man ; the intellectual laws, to which he is subject ; the motives, which influence his con- duct ; the passions, which agitate him. A knowledge of the doctrine of human rights, and of the principles of na- tional policy and intercourse are also necessary. History, when studied under these advantages, possesses the high- est interest and importance. §. 500 Of the study of languages. The study of languages, more particularly of the Greek and Latin, has long been made a part of education. The reasons, which are commonly given for occupying a con- siderable portion of time in this way, are chiefly these. (1) Much information is locked up in these languages. The original Greek and Roman literature is of itself high- ly valuable; their poets, historians, and orators, are wor- thy of being compared with those of any age or nation. In addition to this, vast numbers of literary and other treati- ses have been written in the Latin language in later peri- ods, particularly on the readings and interpretations of an- cient author?, and on obscure and difficult points of hist©- 574 EDUCATION ry. A person ignorant of that language is shut out from the greater part of these important documents. (2) The intercourse of the world has been so much increased in consequence of the spread of knowledge and the facilities of commerce, that an acquaintance with some of the modern languages, particularly the Spanish, Italian, and French, is considered highly desirable. An entire ignorance of all modern languages is thought to imply a very defective education. But the languages, which have been mentioned, together with the Portuguese, have their origin in great part from the Latin ; and can be more easily and perfectly learnt by previously giving some at- tention to the parent dialect, than by attempting them without it. (3) No one,who speaks the English language, can deny the importance of a thorough knowledge of it. It embod- ies, and retains the vast wisdom of many good and learned men ; and is the medium, by which the thoughts and feel- ings of our own generation and of our own hearts are to be communicated. But in the knowledge of this language, the student will find himself assisted by an acquaintance with the Latin ; inasmuch as about one half of the words in the English language are derived from that source. The Greek, which is a source of many English words, has a similar argument in its favour ; and the additional cir- cumstance of being the original language of the New Tes- tament. (4) The study of languages answers a good purpose, as a sort of basis of education. During the period from eight to eleven years of age, the intellect may be supposed to be developing itself under the mere guidance of nature . It is a great point in education to aid this developement, to keep the mental powers in exercise, and to promote their growth. This object is known to be secured by the study of the languages in a high degree ; certainly much more than by the study of ethics, history, mineralogy,chemistry, &c; or even the more appropriate study of arithmetic. It is thought, that the object cannot be secured, in so high a degree, by any other course of study whatever, which can be pointed out. EDUCATION. 579 (5) It has also been strongly contended, that an acquaint- ance with any language is a valuable acquisition, because it opens up new views ofmental character. The language of every nation is modified by the exigencies of the peo- ple, who speak it ; and by individual and national traits. It embodies their emotions, customs, prejudices, domestic and political history. No man, therefore, can make him- self fully acquainted with a new language, without having more correct and broader views of the developement of the mind, of the progress of men, as they rise from barba- rism to refinement, and of human nature in general. And these advantages can be secured by the study of the Greek and Latin languages, no less than by others. In view of this subject, all that remains to be said here, is briefly this ; — There can be no objection to changes in existing systems of education, whenever good reasons can be shown for making them,whether they concern the study of languages, or any other part of education. On the con- trarv, svstems of instruction ought to be examined into, and all improvements, of which they are susceptible, should be made. The above statements, however, in favour of the study of the classic languages, show, that the advo- cates for retaining them, as a part of the methods of liber- al education, do not give this preference to them without some good grounds. §. 501. Of education in connection with the progress of science. The progress of education ought to keep pace with the progress of the sciences ; and when the sciences arc advanced, and are spreading abroad their light, the mass of intellect, the minds of the great body of the people, ought not to be kept back in the twilight of former ages. It has been remarked and not without reason, that a young man, on completing his studies at a modern seminary, may have made himself acquainted with those principles of mathematics, in the acquisition of which the profound Newton spent his life. A similar remark may be made in respect to all the departments of knowledge. The vast multitude of facts in physics ha\e been reduced to order. 57G EDUCATION. and all thefsciences, founded on observation and expei ence, have been compressed, as it were, into a small space. What was the extent, the ultimate boundary knowledge in one age, and was reached only by the mc powerful minds, becomes in the succeeding age element ry, and makes a part of the rudiments of education. In conducting, therefore, the process of education, it of less consequence to inquire what was believed, ai what was known in the sciences in former ages, than inquire what is believed and known at the present momer There are thousands of treatises, which were once valu ble and entitled their authors to great credit ; but ha now lost their interest, and have no claims to be put in the hands of the student. 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