THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 From the collection of 
 Julius Doerner, Chicago 
 Purchased, 1918. 
 
 150 
 
 C(9m 
 
MANUAL 
 
 OF 
 
 THE ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
 OF THE HUMAN MIND. 
 
 THE EEV. JAMES CARLILE, D.D. 
 
 OF DUBLIN AND PARSONSTOWN. IRELAND. 
 
 ARTHUR 
 
 HALL, 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 VIRTUE, & CO., 
 
 PATERNOSTER ROW 
 
 MDCCCLI. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 ^ I t>' 
 
 1 1 
 
 f:i 
 
 • .. (i 
 
 I 'J’HE author of this little work has called it a Manual 
 > of the Anatomy and Physiology of the Mind; — of 
 
 i anatomy and physiology, because it is an attempt to do for 
 
 Y. I the mind what anatomy and physiology do for the body, 
 
 ; i namely, to point out its various powers and operations, 
 
 the place which they hold in the mental organism, and 
 r their connection with one another. He has called it a 
 Manual, because it does not detail the trains of reasoning 
 '4, by which mental phenomena have been ascertained, and 
 their bearing on the general system explained. Those 
 ^ who desire to dip more deeply into these reasonings, the 
 
 / author w^ould refer to Dugald Stewart’s historical essay 
 
 ^ “On the Progress of Metaphysical Science,” written for 
 
 p the last edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and 
 
 published also separately, as to a Catalogue Uaisonne, 
 where he will find the principal books on the various 
 metaphysical topics noticed and described. And to 
 
vi 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 this he would add Sir William Hamilton’s metaphysical 
 works, especially his edition of the works of Dr. Reid, 
 with notes. 
 
 The author’s aim has been to provide a book intel- 
 ligible to the educated public generally ; (not without 
 hope of its being intelligible to the youth of both sexes, 
 engaged in the higher classes of our best conducted 
 schools,) conveying a distinct conception of the wonderful 
 organism of the human soul in its connection with the 
 body. The models which he has set before him have 
 been such books as Sir John Herschell’s popular work 
 on Astronomy, and Paley’s View of the Evidences of 
 Christianity. 
 
 The author explicitly repudiates all claims to origi- 
 nality in any of his statements. Any person who has 
 read Sir William Hamilton’s historical notices of several 
 metaphysical topics, will hesitate long before he even 
 hint at such a claim on any subject. For himself, the 
 author avows that not unfrequently, when he imagined 
 that he had arrived at certain conclusions by his own 
 excogitations, he has not only found them anticipated 
 in other books, but in books which he had read, and 
 from which he had, in all probability, but altogether 
 unconsciously, derived both the conclusions and the 
 reasonings on which they were established. Similar 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 Yii 
 
 considerations have deterred him from stating from 
 what sources he has derived his views. Such references 
 are not required as authority ; for a work of this nature 
 is an almost incessant appeal to the reader’s own con- 
 sciousness ; and Sir William Hamilton has again taught 
 him, that in quoting authorities, he might be quoting only 
 authorities at second hand, But while the author lays 
 no claim to originality, the reader will find that the 
 work is not a mere abridgment of any other book, nor 
 a compilation from other books. The author has availed 
 himself of all the information to which he has had 
 access, but has not given himself up to the guidance of any 
 one who has preceded him ; and his work is an attempt 
 to convey that view of the human mind, which he has 
 been led to adopt by his inquiries, considerably modified 
 by his own observations and reflections. 
 
 The work was suggested to the author in the course 
 of preparing a few essays on the Interpretation and 
 Application of the Old Testament Scriptures. An 
 attempt to ascertain in what the image of God in the 
 soul consisted, suggested the necessity of comparing 
 what we know of the soul, by our own consciousness, 
 with what is revealed of God in the Scriptures ; and 
 the author soon found the train of thought, into which 
 he was then led, pass beyond the bounds of an essay 
 fitted to hold a subordinate place in such a work as he 
 
viii 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 contemplated — and he resolved to prepare a separate 
 work on the Mind, to which he could afterwards refer. 
 He has not in this volume entered on the consideration 
 of the moral nature or state of man : but if this volume 
 be favourably received, and if it should please God to 
 prolong his life, and spare to him his faculties for some 
 time longer, he may issue another volume, containing 
 his views on these still more important topics. 
 
 The author trusts that his only desire is, that he may 
 glorify God, by directing the attention of his fellow-men 
 to his most wonderful work of creation — the immortal 
 spirit of man — and prepare them for the better under- 
 standing of his Kevealed Word. That his work may 
 effect this object is his prayer and his hope through 
 the kindness of God in Christ Jesus. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The high rank which the human mind holds in creation 1 
 Essence or substance op the mind altogether unknown 3 
 The mind has no innate ideas. Its first movements 
 caused by the action of external objects on its 
 ORGANS OF SENSE 4 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 SENSATION, AND THE PHENOMENA CONNECTED 
 WITH IT. 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 THE SENSES. 
 
 Bodily Organs of Sense. Connection with the Brain. . . 5 
 
 Touch . . . . ..... 7 
 
 Taste ......... 8 
 
 Smell ......... 9 
 
 Hearing ......... 9 
 
 Sight ......... 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 1. Each of the senses yields a variety of sensations . . 14 
 
 2. Sensations the only means which the mind possesses of 
 
 communicating with the external world . . .14 
 
 b 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Pa?e 
 
 3. Sensations form the elements of all thought . . . 15 
 
 4. Most or all of the classes of sensation capable of being 
 
 excited otherwise than through the organs of sense . 15 
 
 5. When different external objects are affecting the organs 
 
 of sense at the same time, only one occupies the 
 thoughts, the rest passing unheeded. This attraction 
 of the thoughts to one sensation is called attention, 
 and is not directed by the mind, but by certain 
 qualities in the sensation that arrests its attention . 1 6 
 
 6. Many, perhaps all, sensations originally pleasant or 
 
 painful. The qualities that render them so. The 
 pleasure and pain fade by repetition, and they become 
 indifferent . . . . . . . . 18 
 
 7. None of our sensations nor all of them would of them- 
 
 selves convey to the mind any notice of the material 
 world, or of anything external to the mind itself or 
 different from it. A mind supposed to be destitute 
 of all power over the body, and the effects traced. 
 
 That the senses give of themselves no notion of 
 external objects, proved especially in regard to sight 
 and touch 24,25 
 
 8. The sensations of themselves could convey no notion 
 
 of cause and effect . . . . . . . 29 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 Sensations so retained in the mind that they may be 
 recalled, or be again present to the mind. These re- 
 callings of sensations regulated by certain laws called 30 
 Laws of association or suggestion . . . . . 31 
 
 Difference between original sensations and the recal or 
 
 representation of them by memory .... 32 
 
 Importance of this difference to distinguish truth from 
 
 falsehood 33 
 
 Morbid representations or recal of sensations ... 34 
 
 Case of M. Nicholas . . . . . . . . 34 
 
 Cases mentioned by Abercrombie and others . . .36 
 
 Sensations are recalled with the pleasure or pain which 
 
 originally belonged to them, but modified . . . 37 
 
 Diversities in different minds in their aptitude for 
 
 recalling sensations, germs of diversity of character . 38 
 
CONTENTS. xi 
 
 Page 
 
 The more frequently sensations are recalled in the same 
 order, they recal one another with the more certainty 
 and rapidity in that order . . . . .39 
 
 The will has no direct control over the m_emory . . . 40 
 
 Eemembrance of sensations could not give the notion of 
 
 cause and effect ....... 41 
 
 The mind expects like consequents to follow like 
 
 antecedents ........ 42 
 
 Proofs that the expectation is intuitive . . . . 43 
 
 Memory implies the power of observing similarities and 
 
 diversities in sensations ..... 44 
 
 In remembered sensations . . . . . . 44 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 DISCERNMENT, DISCRIMINATION, OR JUDGMENT AS DEPENDENT 
 ON SENSATION. 
 
 Various kinds of differences and similarities discerned 
 
 by sensations of different organs . . , .45 
 
 Different sensations of same organs . . . . . 46 
 
 Long continued from momentary . . . . .47 
 
 Number 47 
 
 The discernment affords a pleasure different from that of 
 
 sensation ........ 47 
 
 Different minds have different aptitude for these discern- 
 ments. . . . . . . . . . 47 
 
 Pleasure or pain of sensation, and also of discriminating 
 the germ of the passions or emotions, the power of 
 
 discriminating the germ of intellectual operations . 48 
 
 The pain or pleasure of remembered sensations abates 
 
 on every successive remembrance . . . . 48 
 
 On every repetition of the remembrance of a sensation the 
 mind becomes more accurate and prompt in discern- 
 ing its peculiar character . . . . . . 49 
 
 The two elements of sensations take different directions by 
 repetition, the pain or pleasure subsides, but the dis- 
 crimination of them becomes more perfect . . 50 
 
 Importance of the phenomena . . . . . . 50 
 
 The abating of the pleasure or pain of sensations as of dis- 
 criminations lies at the foundation of curiosity . . 51 
 
 The unlimited power of the mind to discern differences 
 and resemblances occasions one superiority of intel- 
 lectual over sensual pursuits . . . . . 51 
 
 Important division : emotions, and intellectual operations 51 
 
 b 2 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 xii 
 
 CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 EMOTIONS DERIVED FROM SENSATIONS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Desire and aversion 52 
 
 Expectation^ hope or fear . . . . . . .52,53 
 
 Disappointment and sorrow, joy, perplexity . . . 53 
 
 Hope overcoming pain ; dread overcoming pleasure . . 53 
 
 Admiration, wonder, amazement, astonishment . . , 54 
 
 Astonishment with horror ...... 54 
 
 Melancholy, cheerfulness . . . . . . . 54 
 
 No emotion yet detected dependent on the perception of 
 
 any being external to the mind .... 54 
 
 Nor dependent on the will 55 
 
 CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL POWERS, OR PHENOMENA DEPENDENT ON 
 SENSATION. 
 
 Sensation, memory, attention, and discrimination belong 
 
 both to emotions and to intellect .... 57 
 
 Not repeat what said already ...... 58 
 
 Classing sensations, by organs of sense, by pleasure or pain 59 
 Drawing inferences and reasoning . . . . . 60,61 
 
 The human mind in the elements of its faculties deeply 
 
 interesting 62 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 PEECEPTION, AND THE PHENOMENA DEPENDENT 
 ON IT. 
 
 The power op the mind over the body .... 63 
 
 An infant moves its limbs, wittingly . . . . 63 
 
 Eesults of this power ....... 64 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 PERCEPTION. 
 
 Perception of material world not intuitive . . . . 64 
 
 Not species or images entering the brain ... 65 
 
 Not by sense of touch . . . . . . . 65 
 
 Necessarily obtained by voluntary motion combined with 
 
 sense of touch 65 
 
CONTENTS. xiii 
 
 Page 
 
 Notion of space necessarily connected with that of matter 66 
 Progress of the knowledge of material objects . . . 66 
 
 Aided by sense of sight ...... 67 
 
 Knowledge of distances . . . . . . . 67 
 
 Other sensations traced to external objects, as of sounds, 
 
 smells, tastes .68 
 
 Cognition of the material world through sensation called 
 
 perception . . . . • . . . . 69 
 
 Other theories noticed . . . . . . .69 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 NOTION OF SELF, OK PERSONAL IDENTITY. 
 
 Two views ; personal identity as distinguished from other 
 beings, and personal identity with regard to continued 
 duration . . . . . . - . . 71 
 
 Identification of myself as distinguished from others . 71 
 
 Identification of myself at difierent periods of my existence. 
 
 Consciousness, remembrances .... . 72,73 
 
 Prolonged identity in the view of other persons . . 73 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 Definition ......... 74 
 
 No will without voluntary motion of the body ... 74 
 
 The only dominion of the will is the body . . . . 75 
 
 The will does not acquire direct power over the mind by 
 / its powers over the body ..... 75 
 
 The most despotic monarch deprived of will if deprived 
 
 of voluntary motion of the body . . . . . 76 
 
 Willing operations through the medium of others explained 76 
 
 What is it that moves the will % Question answered . 77 
 
 Is the will necessarily swayed by motives? Question 
 
 answered . . . 78 
 
 Motives are not external to the mind, but in the mind. 
 
 Examples ........ 78 
 
 Moral character determined, not by acts of the will, but 
 by motives. The acts of the will only indicate the 
 moral character, not form it . . . . . 79 
 
 The will moved by desire, variously excited . . .81 
 
 Theological argument irrelevant . . . . . 81 
 
 Question of merit also irrelevant ..... 81 
 
XIV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 OBIGIN OF OUR NOTIONS OF CAUSE AND EFFECT. 
 
 Page 
 
 No notion of cause and effect from sequence of sensations 82 
 Nor from constant succession of events among external 
 
 objects . . . . . . . . . 83 
 
 Derived from the mind’s consciousness of its being the 
 
 cause of the movements of the body . . .83 
 
 Extended to changes in external bodies, effected by the 
 
 members of its own body . . . . . . 84 
 
 If I intend and produce a movement by the intervention 
 
 of media I am the conscious cause .... 84 
 
 Notion extended to cases in which the mind is passive, 
 
 being acted on from without . . . . . 85 
 
 Still further to regular succession of phenomena among 
 
 external objects . . . . . . .86 
 
 The theory that cause and effect are merely regular ante- 
 cedents and consequents groundless . . . . 87 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 SENSATION, AS MODIFIED BY PERCEPTION. 
 
 1. By its power over the body, the mind acquires a certain 
 
 power over its sensations . . . . .88 
 
 2. Sensations come to be regarded usually as the signs of 
 
 the powers and qualities of external objects . . . 89 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 THE REVIVING OF SENSATIONS, OR MEMORY, AS CONNECTED 
 WITH PERCEPTIONS. 
 
 Laws of suggestion extended by perception . . .90 
 
 Principal laws, resemblance, contrariety, contiguity of time 
 
 or place, comprehension, cause and effect . * . 91 
 
 Different minds differently affected by laws of suggestion. 91 
 Objects recalled by suggestion, recalled with the original 
 
 pain or pleasure connected with the perception of them 93 
 The more frequently objects recalled in any order, the 
 more promptly and certainly they recur in that order, 
 illustrated by acquiring language . . . . 94 
 
 Indirect power of the will over suggestions, acquired by its 
 
 power over the body . . . , . . » 95 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XV 
 
 Page 
 
 The remembrance of objects by suggestion implies the 
 power of discerning resemblances and differences 
 among them ........ 96 
 
 Importance of this discrimination . . . . . 97 
 
 The pain or pleasure attending the perception of external 
 objects subsides by repetition^, while the power of 
 discerning their resemblances and differences becomes 
 more perfect ........ 98 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 EMOTIONS DEPENDING ON PERCEPTION. 
 
 Refer to emotions depending on sensation . . . . 100 
 
 Emotions now directed to external objects, desire, aversion, 
 hope, fear, disappointment, sadness, agreeable dis- 
 appointment, joy, surprise, wonder, painful per- 
 plexity ........ lOl, 102 
 
 Hew emotions caused by the power of the mind over the 
 body, patience, fortitude, resolution, determination, 
 or impatience, timidity, cowardice . . . . 102 
 
 From the notion of cause and effect, self-gratulation, 
 
 regret, self-upbraiding . . . . . 102, 103 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF LANGUAGE ON THE EMOTIONS CONNECTED 
 WITH PEECEPTION. 
 
 Not treating the influence of language historically . .103 
 
 Influence of language on the succession of our thoughts . 104 
 
 Extended by written language . . . . .105 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL POWERS OR OPERATIONS DEPENDING ON 
 PERCEPTION. 
 
 Discrimination now chiefly employed about external 
 
 objects; causes of this . . . . . . 106 
 
 § 1. — Classification of external material objects. 
 
 Classed by observed resemblances . . . . .107 
 
 Thoughts, or mental operations founded on perception, 
 
 classed on the same principle . . . . . 108 
 
 § 2. — Induction, as exercised on external material objects. 
 
 Founded on expectation of same consequents to same 
 
 antecedents ........ 108 
 
 Inductive philosophy adds to this classification ; illustra- 
 tions . . 109 
 
XVI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 § 3 — Keasoning, as employed about external material 
 
 Keasoning the discovering of resemblances and differences, 
 by employing media . . . . . . .Ill 
 
 Illustrated : lightning and magnetism, mathematics . . 112 
 
 § 4. — Syllogistic reasoning. 
 
 Explained 113 
 
 Use defined ......... 114 
 
 Illustrations . . . . . . . . .115 
 
 « 
 
 § 5. — The use op language in intellectual operations 
 
 RESPECTING EXTERNAL MATERIAL OBJECTS. 
 
 In classification ..117 
 
 In induction and reasoning 118 
 
 § 6. — The influence op language on imagination or 
 
 CONCEPTION. 
 
 Reason of introduction of imagination here . . .119 
 
 Much depends on the use of language. Proof . . . 120 
 
 1. Imagination introduces no new thought , . .120 
 
 2. Without language remembrances would recur in the 
 
 original connection of the objects remembered . .121 
 
 3. Descriptions of scenes call up images already retained 
 
 in the mind ........ 121 
 
 4. Paintings furnish perceptions capable of being recalled 
 
 as real scenes 122 
 
 5. Paintings, like real scenes, capable of being broken 
 
 up in recalling them, and formed into new combi- 
 nations . . . . . . . . . 122 
 
 6. A scene thus constructed in the mind may itself 
 
 become an object of memory ..... 122 
 
 7. Power of combining qualities of different objects in the 
 
 mind, dependent chiefly on language . . . . 123 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 RECOGNITION, AND THE PHENOMENA DEPENDENT 
 ON IT. 
 
 Recognition the discernment op the presence and 
 
 MOVEMENTS OP THE MIND ..... 125 
 
 This by consciousness 125 
 
CONTENTS. xvii 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 Page 
 
 As applied to sensation, is nothing more than sensation ; 
 as applied to perception, includes knowledge of the 
 external cause of sensation ..... 126 
 
 Extends to the notion of self, to emotions influencing 
 
 recognition of the cause of them . . . . 126 
 
 Hypothetically extended to the future . . . .126 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DISCOVERY OF THE PRESENCE AND EMOTIONS OF OTHER 
 MINDS. 
 
 1. Discovers by perception bodies like its own, and infers 
 
 from its movements, a governing mind . . . 127 
 
 2. Conscious that it exhibits mental states by movements 
 
 of the body. Infers like causes from like efiects . 127 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ATTENTION DRAWN FROM BODIES OF MEN TO THEIR MINDS. 
 
 Because the body controlled by the mind . . .129 
 
 Our chief attention from childhood directed to the mental 
 
 character of others . . . . . . . 129 
 
 Two elements of character, power and disposition . . 129 
 
 The study of these continues through life . . . . 130 
 
 Elements of character, as they appear to children . . 131 
 
 Power, to give pleasure or pain . . . . . . 131 
 
 Strength of body, till weakness discovered, or 
 
 discovers that he is controlled by others . 131 
 
 To give or withhold money, or other enjoyment . 132 
 
 To communicate information . . . .132 
 
 To please by wit or drollery, music, &c. . . . 132 
 
 Disposition .132 
 
 Aspect of countenance and manners . . . 133 
 
 Afterwards by acts . . . . . .133 
 
 Similar estimate of character by men . . . 133 
 
 Power, bodily strength, to command others . . .133 
 
 To inflict pain . 133 
 
 To provide food . . . . . . .134 
 
 Military power 134 
 
 Official rank 134 
 
 Property . 135 
 
 Learning, and other mental acquirements . . 135 
 
 Poetical and oratorical power,, wit, music, mimicry. 135 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 xviii 
 
 Meu seek to possess some of these kinds of power to give 
 value to character .... ... 
 
 Disposition, first impression, manners, profession, afterward 
 acts ......... 
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 MEMORY, AS EXERCISED ON RECOGNITION. 
 Additions to the laws of suggestion. Extended to mental 
 character ......... 
 
 Eesemblances or analogies discovered between matter and 
 mind ; these mutually suggest each other 
 Manifested in forms of speech . . . . . 
 
 Important operation of laws of suggestion . 
 
 Any work of man suggests the qualities of his 
 mind ; machinery, painting, music . . . 
 
 CHAPTEE Y.’ 
 
 EMOTIONS, AS CONNECTED WITH RECOGNITION. 
 
 1. From our consciousness we learn that other men may 
 
 be and are causes of pain or pleasure to others or to 
 ourselves ........ 
 
 2. From the same source we learn that other men may be 
 
 influenced by such passions towards others as love, 
 hatred, gratitude, &c., and often infer that they are 
 the subjects of such emotions . . . . . 
 
 3. Having discovered that the character of others is of 
 
 more importance than individual acts, our emotions 
 towards them are often influenced by our estimate 
 of their character ....... 
 
 Eespect and esteem . . . ' . . . 
 
 Contempt ........ 
 
 Anger ......... 
 
 Gratitude ........ 
 
 Hatred ......... 
 
 Hatred of another, often excited by our having 
 injured him, and why ..... 
 
 Love. The love of parents and children . . * 
 
 Anger and hatred 
 
 Eevenge ........ 
 
 Desire to injure the object of it . . .147, 
 
 Gratitude excites desire to give him pleasure 
 
 Self-love 
 
 Selfishness ........ 
 
 Page 
 
 136 
 
 137 
 
 138 
 
 139 
 
 139 
 
 140 
 
 141 
 
 142 
 
 142 
 
 143 
 
 144 
 
 144 
 
 144 
 
 144 
 
 144 
 
 144 
 
 145 
 
 147 
 
 148 
 
 148 
 
 148 
 
 149 
 
 149 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XIX 
 
 Page 
 
 Generosity 150 
 
 Avarice ........ 151 
 
 Covetousness . . . . . . . . 151 
 
 Envy . . . . . . . .151 
 
 Compassion . . . . . . . . 151 
 
 Jealousy ........ 151 
 
 Self-approbation, self-gratulation . . . . 152 
 
 Eemorse ........ 152 
 
 Conscience . . . _. . . . . 153 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 Regarded by some as an original faculty of tbe mind. 
 
 Operation of laws of suggestion . . . .154 
 
 Proved and illustrated . . . . . . . 154 
 
 We sympathise with persons of whom we know nothing, 
 but the emotions in which we sympathise. Sym- 
 pathy, therefore, not with the persons, but with their 
 emotions ........ 155 
 
 Sympathy with happiness or joy. . . . . . 158 
 
 infectious sympathy : examples . . . . .158 
 
 CHAPTER YH. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL OPERATIONS AS CONNECTED WITH 
 RECOGNITION. 
 
 § 1. — Classification. 
 
 The characters of men classed . . . . . . 161 
 
 Nature of intercourse of man with man another ground of 
 
 classification . . . . . . . .161 
 
 § 2. — Induction. 
 
 The difficulty in the induction to ascertain the real 
 
 antecedents 161 
 
 § 3. — Reasoning. 
 
 Moral reasoning liable to the same uncertainties and 
 
 difficulties . . . . . . . .162 
 
 § 4. — Imagination. 
 
 Different exercises of mind called by this name . ..164 
 
 Yivid images called up by suggestion .... 164 
 
 Superstitious terrors . . . . - . . 165 
 
XX 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Objects that never existed, impossible . . . . 165 
 
 Presented to the mind . . . . . . .166 
 
 Ascribing mental qualities to inanimate objects and 
 
 inferior animals . . . . . . , . 166 
 
 Ascribing to the mind qualities of matter . . .166 
 
 Both of these exercises the discerning of resemblances 
 
 and differences ........ 166 
 
 Inventing characters and incidents . . . .167 
 
 Dramatic imagination perhaps mimicry . . . . 168 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 TASTE, OR THE APPRECIATION OF BEAUTY AND SUBLIMITY. 
 
 Why introduced here 171 
 
 No mere suggestion could create the appreciation of beauty 
 
 or sublimity ........ 171 
 
 Distinctions to be observed . . . . . .172 
 
 I.— Material objects. 
 
 Supposed that no beauty or sublimity in material objects . 173 
 Reasons against this notion . . . . . .173 
 
 Beauty in material objects, 
 
 1. Musical scale "and chords . . . . . . 174 
 
 2. Colours of prismatic spectrum . . . . .175 
 
 3. Order and symmetry. Kaleidoscope , . . . 175 
 
 4. Variety combined with order and symmetry . .177 
 
 Sublimity in material objects. 
 
 Different from beauty. Causes different ; nay, opposite . 177 
 
 Vastness .......... 178 
 
 Energy 178 
 
 Both increased by obscurity . . . . . . 178 
 
 A certain degree of fear .179 
 
 II. — Mental qualities. 
 
 1. Beauty. 
 
 Analogous to material beauty, more diversified . . . 179 
 
 2. Sublimity. 
 
 Vastness, as of understanding, power . . , .180 
 
 Energy . . . . . . . . . 180 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XXI 
 
 HI. — The artificial excitement op the sublime and 
 
 BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 1. The Beautiful. 
 
 Page 
 
 1. Artists have wider range than objects in themselves 
 
 beautiful . . . . ... . 181 
 
 Suggest pleasant thoughts . . . . . . 181 
 
 2. Artists must avail themselves of the natural sources of 
 
 beauty . . . . . . . . . 181 
 
 Musicians — pleasing tones, scale, chords, rhythm, sym- 
 metry of composition . . . . . . 181 
 
 Painters — harmony of colouring, variety . . .182 
 
 Sculptors — mental beauty, symmetry, variety . . . 182 
 
 Architects — symmetry, proportion .... 183 
 
 Poets — order, and symmetry in rhythm and plan, variety 183 
 
 2. The Sublime. \ 
 
 Also a wider range than objects . . . . . . 184 
 
 Music .......... 185 
 
 Painting .......... 185 
 
 Architecture . . . . . . . .185 
 
 Sculpture . ..186 
 
 Poetry .......... 186 
 
 3. Truthfulness necessary to all . . . . . . 187 
 
 Musician, painter . . . . . . .187 
 
 Architect, poet . . . . . . . . 188 
 
 Conclusion . .189 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE RECOGNITION OF MENTAL STATES AND OPERATIONS IN 
 THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 
 
 Mental states and operations of inferior animals recog- 
 nised, on the same principle with those of men. . 190 
 
 § 1. — Emotions of the inferior animals. 
 
 Hunger and thirst, fear, anger, revenge, complicated 
 
 emotions. Examples . . . . . . 191 
 
 Expression of emotions .192 
 
 § 2. — Intellectual operations op inferior animals. 
 
 Laws of suggestion . . . . . . . , 193 
 
 Exact discrimination . . . . . . .193 
 
 Chiefly employed in obtaining food ; skill and foresight . 193 
 
 Their skill and foresight have a difiereiit origin from that 
 
 of man. . . . . . . . . 193 
 
 Proofs of this. Instinct . . . . . .,194 
 
XXll 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Mental states excited in us by inferior animals . . 195 
 
 E motions f — fear, anger, revenge, hatred, admiration, 
 
 affection, &c 195 
 
 Inferences and reasonings about inferior animals have 
 more of precision and certainty, than inferences and 
 reasonings about inanimate objects . . .195 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE KECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 We have not precisely the same means of recognising the 
 
 presence and mental movements of the Deity as of men 196 
 We have such indications of him by the objects around. 
 
 as we have of an artist in his absence . . .196 
 
 Can recognise design in creation as in the works of man . 198 
 
 We have this evidence of the mental states of the Deity 
 more perfect and more powerful than we have of the 
 
 mental states of man . . . . . . . . 199 
 
 1. See his designs executed under our eye . .199 
 
 2. Proof stronger ; accumulated proof . . . 200 
 
 May not these evidences of design and power indicate 
 
 the design and power of many minds ] Xo ! for — . 202 
 
 1. Different departments of material objects melt 
 
 into one another ... . . . 203 
 
 2. All parts of the universe mutually dependent 
 
 on one another . . . . . . 203 
 
 Indications of character or disposition .... 206 
 
 Love of order, beauty, elegance . . . . . . 206 
 
 Beneficence ; arrangements for comfort of all . . .206 
 
 Visit to an armory ; all for destruction . . . . 207 
 
 Provision for comfort of sensitive creatures . . .210 
 
 Destructive creatures. Uses of them . . . . . 211 
 
 Has the Deity contrived and constructed his machine, and 
 
 then left it to work out its principles ] . . .212 
 
 This notion founded on fallacy . . . . . . 213 
 
 If cause and effect be only sequence, this impossible . . 213 
 
 One efficient cause known, and only one, and that is, the 
 
 power and design of the Deity known by recognition. 213 
 
 Illustrations . .214 
 
 Have the different grades of organic nature originated in 
 
 any effort of plants and animals themselves ] . . 216 
 
 Xo evidence of any such efforts . . . . .216 
 
 Xor that such efforts would be successful. Xotion 
 
 absurd 217 
 
 Emotions produced by the recognition of the Deity . .218 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 xxiii 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 0 ^ THE MEANS WHICH THE MIND POSSESSES OF 
 AFFECTING OTHER MINDS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Two ELEMENTS . . . . . . . .219 
 
 Causing pain or pleasure . . . . . . . 219 
 
 Or communicating thought ...... 219 
 
 These intermingled and modified . . . . . 220 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF THOSE ATTEMPTS TO INFLUENCE THE MINDS OF OTHERS IN 
 WHICH WE INTENTIONALLY CAUSE PAIN OR PLEASURE, FOR 
 THE PURPOSE OF STRENGTHENING THE EXPRESSIONS OF 
 OUR OWN STATES OF MIND. 
 
 1. The means of causing pain or pleasure resorted to . 220 
 
 2. The purposes for which pain or pleasure are caused . . 221 
 
 Used by parents with children . . . .221 
 
 Used for upholding or diffusing opinions or principles 221 
 
 Warfare ......... 222 
 
 3. The communication of pleasure . . . . .222 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OF THOSE CASES IN WHICH WE SEEK TO INFLUENCE OTHERS 
 WITHOUT EMPLOYING THE AGENCY OF PAIN OR PLEASURE, 
 PUNISHMENT OR REWARD, FORCE OR BRIBERY. 
 
 1. Natural language ..... ... 223 
 
 2. Artificial language spoken, written .... 224 
 
 Most powerful when natural and artificial language are 
 
 combined . . . . . . . . . 225 
 
 Most influential communication of thought, facts . 225 
 
 Quasi facts ......... 225 
 
 Inferences and reasonings . . . . . . . 225 
 
 These communications most influential when accompanied 
 
 with expressions of natural emotion . . . 226 
 
 Principles of such communication treated of in grammar, 
 
 logic, rhetoric, poetry, elocution, &c 226 
 
 These principles exemplified in the construction of the 
 
 Holy Scriptures ....... 226 
 
 Communicated facts, two series, historical, spiritual . . 226 
 
 Historical facts influential . . . . . .227 
 
XXIV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Spiritual facts, infinitely more so . . . . . 
 
 Communicated in forms best fitted to command attention, 
 and produce intended effects ..... 
 
 Communications of thought most powerful when not 
 accompanied by force . . . . . . 
 
 Illustrated by reference to history, laws of war . 230- 
 
 World governed by opinion ...... 
 
 Ancient monarchies, Roman empire . . . . . 
 
 Empire of the Bishop of Rome by opinion 
 
 Introduction of force . 
 
 Great revolution in France, Bonaparte . . . 237- 
 
 Outburst in 1848. Present state of Europe . . . 
 
 Law supported too exclusively by pains and penalties 
 People should be educated so as to understand it, and the 
 reasons for it . . . . . , . . 
 
 Importance of juries in England ..... 
 
 Inferiority of the Scotch system, illustrated . . 244- 
 
 English Court of Chancery. Its reform . . . 248- 
 
 Summary and conclusion ... .... 
 
 The mental powers viewed as a foundation for moral 
 
 responsibility 
 
 The motive power 
 
 The controlling and regulating power 
 
 The acting power or will . . . . . 
 
 The recording pdwer ..... 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Note A. — Does the sense of sight convey the notion of 
 a non ego, or of matter external to the mind . . 
 
 Note B. — How far the notion of space is a necessary form 
 of thought . . ...... 
 
 Note C. — Notice of the system of Kant . . . . 
 
 Note D. — Case of Presbyterian marriages in Ireland 
 
 Page 
 
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 228 
 
 229 
 
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 233 
 
 234 
 
 235 
 
 236 
 -239 
 
 240 
 
 241 
 
 242 
 
 243 
 -248 
 -250 
 251 
 
 251 
 
 253 
 
 253 
 
 257 
 
 258 
 
 262 
 
 263 
 
 265 
 
 267 
 
MANUAL 
 
 OP 
 
 THE ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY OF THE 
 HUMAN MIND. 
 
 The human mind, next to the Deity himself, is the 
 noblest object of contemplation within the scope of our 
 faculties. There are marvellous beauties scattered over 
 the face of external nature ; and the more the material 
 universe is explored, the more perfect and the more 
 beautiful does its mechanism appear. The unbounded 
 space around us, with all its infinitude of worlds moving 
 with inconceivable velocities, yet in most perfect order 
 and harmony, is a most sublime and glorious object of 
 contemplation. The earth on which we stand — its 
 materials and its architecture, its infinitely varioua vege- 
 tation, and its still more wonderful variety of animal 
 inhabitants, — discloses, the more it is examined, beauties 
 and wonders lying deeper and deeper beneath the surface, 
 and of endless variety. But in a human soul, perfect in 
 its faculties, its understanding fully enlightened, its affec- 
 tions under just control and rightly directed, — in a moral 
 character justly balanced and perfect in all its attributes ; 
 there is something beyond measure more glorious and 
 beautiful than the whole range of external nature. One 
 of our popular poets has said— 
 
 “ An honest man ’s the noblest work of God.” 
 
 Would that he had always written so justly ! Besides, it 
 
2 
 
 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 is only by acquaintance with the human mind that we 
 can rise to the contemplation of the Deity, or form any 
 conception of Him. In directing our attention, therefore, 
 to the structure of the human mind, its various faculties, 
 their connexion with one another, and the principles on 
 which they are regulated, we enter on the contemplation 
 of an object that belongs to the very highest order of 
 created beings. Other departments of created beings 
 are governed and kept in order by mechanical laws, or 
 chemical laws, which are probably also mechanical, but 
 more recondite and complex, or by laws of vegetable and 
 animal life, or by instinct. But creatures so governed 
 are under no responsibility — they are incapable of en- 
 gaging the affection, or incurring the displeasure, of the 
 Creator ; that is, they are incapable of virtue, and con- 
 sequently of vice. Man is the only creature, with whom 
 we are acquainted, who is capable of being governed by 
 a law which he has power to obey or to disobey, a free 
 agent — and so capable of drawing towards himself the 
 approbation and love of his Creator, or of provoking His 
 just indignation. That God could create such a free agent 
 is the most incomprehensible of all His attributes, and 
 would be incredible and inconceivable, but that every man 
 has within himself the evidence of his own consciousness 
 that he himself is such a being. This is the mystery of | 
 mysteries, including in it all those perplexing questions i 
 which have baffled the powers of thinking men, in all 
 ages, to resolve : — such as. Whence came moral evil ? 
 
 Is man really free, or are his acts determined by neces- 
 sity, so that he could not act otherwise than he does ? 
 
 If free, how can God foresee and control all events ? 
 
 If subjected to necessity, how can he be a moral and 
 accountable creature? — and how can God be either 
 pleased or displeased with him on account of his acts ? 
 
 All these questions would be solved if we could solve the 
 preliminary one — “ How could God create a moral and 
 responsible being?” That He has done so we know 
 
 1 
 
ESSENCE, OE SUBSTANCE OF THE MIND. 3 
 
 from our own consciousness ; by what exercise of power 
 or will He has done so, is a question that strikes us 
 dumb. When it is presented to us, we can but wonder 
 and adore. 
 
 Now it is the nature of this first of created beings, 
 within the range of our direct knowledge, that we are 
 to contemplate, availing ourselves of the lights which 
 have been thrown upon it by the researches of all past 
 ages ; and we shall find it to bear the evident traces of 
 the workmanship of Him who created the heavens and 
 the earth. Every where we shall find, as in the universe 
 of matter, a small number of simple principles producing 
 in their combinations the most wonderful and beautiful 
 results. 
 
 ESSENCE, OR SUBSTANCE OF THE MIND. 
 
 Mind is distinguished from matter by its qualities. 
 The qualities of matter are such as extension, form, 
 motion, rest, heat, cold, hardness, softness, attraction, 
 repulsion, and others of similar nature, discovered by our 
 senses. The qualities of mind are such as thought, pain, 
 pleasure, memory, discrimination, love, hatred, and others, 
 which our consciousness makes known to us. It is pro- 
 bable that mind and matter are distinct in their essence 
 or substance — that these two different kinds of qualities 
 may each have a totally different substratum which 
 combines their qualities respectively ; but of the essence 
 or substance of either mind or matter we are altogether 
 ignorant. The atomic theory of chemistry renders it 
 probable that all material things have a substratum of 
 atoms, and that the various qualities of different material 
 objects are caused by the different modes in which the 
 atoms are combined, and also by diversities in the 
 atoms themselves. That mind should be a mere aggre- 
 gate of qualities, without a mental substratum or essence, 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 is thus rendered improbable; but of that mental sub- 
 stratum, or substance, or essence, we know absolutely 
 nothing. 
 
 THE MIND HAS NO INNATE IDEAS. 
 
 That the mind is destitute of all thoughts or feelings, 
 that is, all actual operations, till it is awakened or set in 
 motion (using that word figuratively) by external objects 
 that affect the organs of sense, seems now to be the 
 generally received opinion of all mental philosophers. 
 It contains the qualities or aptitudes for its various 
 operations before they are thus awakened, but they are 
 lying dormant. Just as a piece of blue or yellow paper 
 has no colour till the light shines upon it, but has such 
 a contexture of its surface that when the light does shine, 
 it is blue or yellow ; so the mind is ushered into the 
 world with the qualities or aptitudes for its various 
 operations, but dormant until they are called into action 
 by the objects affecting the bodily organs of sense with 
 which it is connected. In this the mind is in similar 
 circumstances with the body, which, in the womb, possesses 
 all its organs of sense, of motion, of digestion and assi- 
 milation of food, of respiration, but asleep and motionless 
 till they are brought within the reach of those various 
 qualities in external objects that are fitted to awaken 
 them and set them in motion. Or it may be compared 
 to a repeating watch, complete in all its mechanism, its 
 moving and regulating powers, its dial, its indices, and 
 its apparatus for striking the hours, but all motionless 
 and silent till an externa] power winds it up, and imme- 
 diately its latent energies begin to manifest themselves. 
 
BOOK L 
 
 SENSATION— THE PHENOMENA CONNECTED WITH IT. 
 
 The mind derives its capabilites of being affected by 
 external objects, and then of operating upon these effects, 
 comparing, combining, numbering, desiring, fearing, &c., 
 from its original mechanism (if we may use that word in 
 speaking of mind) as it comes from the hand of its 
 maker ; but it derives its actual life and movement from 
 the external world. The effect produced on the mind 
 by external objects through the organs of sense is called 
 sensation. Sensation, therefore, in metaphysical lan- 
 guage, means the state into which the mind is brought 
 when it is affected by any material object acting on any 
 of the organs of sense. The word is frequently extended 
 beyond this proper meaning, sometimes figuratively and 
 sometimes inaccurately ; but in any attempt to explain 
 mental operations it should be carefully confined to its 
 own proper signification. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE SENSES. 
 
 The bodily organs of sense are five — namely, the 
 organs of touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight. 
 
 These organs consist of nerves or threads proceeding 
 from the brain, formed of a substance so similar to that 
 of the brain that they may be regarded as a prolonga- 
 tion of it, and ending, on the surface of the body, all of 
 them, with the exception of the nerves of touch, at a 
 particular spot, where an apparatus is provided for 
 
6 
 
 THE SENSES. 
 
 bringing the material substance that is destined to act j 
 upon them into contact with them under the most | 
 advantageous circumstances. The whole organ of each | 
 sense, therefore, may be regarded as consisting of three j 
 parts — first, the external termination of the sensorial 
 nerve, and the apparatus there provided for bringing it into 
 contact with the substance fitted to act upon it ; secondly, 
 the continuation of the nerves from the surface to the j 
 brain ; and thirdly, its junction with the brain. So far, i 
 sensation can be traced, but no further. How material ^ 
 objects affect the extremity of the nerves of sense ; how \ 
 these convey the effect produced upon them to the brain, ' 
 or how the brain affects the mind, so as to produce 
 sensation, is altogether unknown to us. All that is 
 known is, that certain kinds or qualities of matter affect, 
 in some unknown way, the outward extremity of the 
 different nerves of sense by the aid of the apparatus 
 provided for bringing the material substance and the 
 nerve into contact or communication with one another, 
 as the tongue, the nostril, the ear, the eye ; that these' 
 nerves are connected with the brain ; and that the brain, 
 or the extremity of the nerves in the brain, in some 
 inscrutable manner, affects the mind variously, according 
 to the particular nerve affected from without, and the 
 nature and intensity of the effect on that nerve. It is 
 known that the sensorial nerve is essentially the organ 
 of sensation ; for if that be injured, or its communication 
 with the brain cut off, there is no sensation. 
 
 From this account of sensation it is obvious that there 
 can be no similarity between the material substance or 
 quality causing sensation, or the effect which it produces 
 on the nerve, and the mental sensation occasioned by it. 
 
 The pain occasioned by a blow can bear no resemblance 
 to the instrument with which the blow was inflicted. 
 
 All that can be said of the connexion of these two things 
 is, that the pain immediately follows the blow, but how, 
 we know not. The hearing of the sound of a bell bears 
 
THE SENSES. 
 
 7 
 
 no resemblance to the bell or to the stroke on the bell 
 that caused it to produce the sensation of hearing. The 
 sensation that follows the presenting of light to the eye 
 bears no resemblance to the luminous object or to the 
 light flowing from it, or to the eye, or to the motion of 
 light towards the eye, or to the impact of the light upon 
 the eye. All that can be said in explanation of the 
 phenomena of the sensation is, that it instantly follows 
 the presenting of the luminous object to the eye. 
 
 Touch. — The external extremities of the tactual nerves 
 are spread over the whole surface of the body, with the 
 exception of some portions which in themselves are im 
 capable of conveying sensation — as the hair, the nails, 
 the enamel of the teeth, the cuticle, &c. Sensations 
 can be conveyed through these, just as they can be 
 conveyed through any extraneous substance laid on any 
 part of the body; but, in themselves, they are destitute of 
 nerves, and therefore are incapable of causing sensation. 
 The tactual nerves, therefore, have no apparatus at their 
 external extremity, like the nerves of hearing, seeing, 
 smelling, for bringing the material substance fitted to 
 act on them into communication with them. The whole 
 body is, to this sense, the external portion of the organ. 
 The sensations derived from this sense are called feelings, 
 although that word is often applied figuratively to 
 emotions generally, as when we speak of a feeling of 
 sympathy, of envy, of resentment, and many others. 
 
 The qualities in bodies that affect the sense of touch 
 are motion, and heat and cold. Motion towards the 
 body produces impact, or pressure, which excites the 
 sensation of touch more or less strongly, according to 
 the violence of the impact or the pressure. Liquids and 
 gases, when in motion, occasion this sensation ; but 
 when they are at rest, they do not. Solids affect 
 the sense variously, according to the nature and force 
 of their contact with the tactual nerve. A sharp edge 
 or point produces a different sensation from a blunt 
 
8 
 
 THE SENSES. 
 
 instrument, and both are modified by the manner and 
 force of contact, whether a sudden blow or gradual 
 pressure. The difference felt between hardness and 
 softness resolves itself into greater or less violence of 
 impact or pressure ; and the difference between rough- 
 ness and smoothness being merely difference of pressure 
 on neighbouring portions of the nerve, — the projections 
 of a rough body pressing more strongly than the other 
 parts of it. In these statements we entirely exclude, 
 for the present, all muscular exertion as connected 
 with the sense of touch, and suppose the body to be 
 entirely passive. The reason of this will appear as we 
 proceed. 
 
 The tactual nerves are also affected with heat or cold ; 
 that is, if any substance at a higher or lower temperature 
 than that of the extremity of the nerve at the moment of 
 touch be applied to it, the sensation of heat or cold is 
 excited in strength proportioned to the difference of tem- 
 perature between the nerve and the object affecting it. 
 If the temperature of the object be higher, the sensation 
 will be that of warmth or heat, up to burning heat; if the 
 temperature be lower, the sensation will be coolness, or 
 cold, to freezing cold. It is somewhat remarkable that 
 the sensation arising from extreme cold cannot be dis- 
 tinguished from that occasioned by extreme heat, both 
 being destructive of the nerve. The pressure, or impact, 
 also, of a sharp edge or point cannot be distinguished, 
 by this sense alone, from burning heat or intense cold, 
 probably for the same reason. Some chemical qualities 
 in bodies, as strong acids, alkalies, and some salts, also 
 produce sensations so similar to those which are pro- 
 duced by heated substances, as not to be distinguished 
 from them by the sense alone. 
 
 Taste. — The external extremities of the nerves of 
 taste are placed in papillae, or little risings on the upper 
 surface of the tongue, and the sensation is produced by 
 the body exciting it being brought into contact with the 
 
THE SENSES. 
 
 9 
 
 tongue. The qualities in bodies which affect these 
 nerves are called flavours, or sometimes tastes ; as when 
 we say of one thing, that it has a sour, and of another 
 that it has a sweet, or bitter taste. But this is inaccu- 
 rate language, for the material substance has not the 
 taste which is in the mind, but only that quality which 
 excites the sensation of taste in the mind. 
 
 The bodies that possess qualities fitted to excite the 
 sensations of touch and taste, must, in order to do so, be 
 brought into contact with the organ of sensation. In 
 the senses which follow, the sensation is produced by 
 certain emanations from the object that excites it. 
 
 Smelling. — The nerves of smell, called the olfactory 
 nerves, have their external terminations in the nostrils. 
 The qualities in bodies that act upon them are called 
 odours, perfumes, fragrance, stench, or, improperly, 
 smells. The odours consist of an effluvia which the 
 odoriferous body throws off, which mingles with the air, 
 and thus enters the nostrils, where it meets the extre- 
 mities of the olfactory nerves, and produces sensation. 
 If an odoriferous body be present, but covered with a 
 glass receiver, so as to prevent the odour from mingling 
 with the external air, no sensation of smell will be ex- 
 perienced. This sense gives no intimation of the dis- 
 tance of the odoriferous substance, or the direction in 
 which it lies, and no experience enables us to deter- 
 mine these points by this sense alone. 
 
 Heaeing. — The nerves of hearing, called also the 
 acoustic, or auditory nerves, have their outer extremity 
 in the ear, where a beautiful apparatus is provided for 
 collecting and conveying sound to them. The material 
 substance that affects these nerves is the atmospheric 
 air thrown into a tremulous, or vibratory motion by the 
 vibrations of a sonorous body ; therefore there is no 
 sound in a vacuum. If a bell be hung in the receiver 
 of an air pump, and the receiver exhausted, and the bell 
 be shaken, so as to make the tongue strike the sides of 
 
10 
 
 THE SENSES. 
 
 it, no sound will be produced. If a little water be put 
 into a glass tumbler, and a moist finger passed rapidly 
 round the edge of the tumbler, a sound will be produced, 
 and the vibrations of the glass producing the sound will 
 at the same time be visible on the surface of the water. 
 When the deeper-toned strings of a harp, or violoncello, 
 or pianoforte, are twanged or struck, the vibrations that 
 produce the sound are visible. The vibrations of the air 
 produced by sounding bodies, and causing the sensation 
 of sound, have been compared to the concentric circles 
 produced on the surface of a pool of still w’ater when a 
 stone is thrown into it, except that the concentric vibra- 
 tions in the air, causing sound, travel with much greater 
 rapidity. The vibrations causing the sensation of sound, 
 it has been ascertained, travel at the rate of a mile in 
 eleven seconds. 
 
 This sense of itself cannot discern either the direction 
 or the distance of the object from whence sound proceeds ; 
 nevertheless, direction, distance, the intervention of other 
 objects, and many other circumstances, so modify the 
 sensation caused by sound, that the mind, by accurately 
 observing these modifications, learns to make good 
 guesses at these particulars, but never learns to deter- 
 mine them absolutely. The most practised ear may 
 mistake a faint sound proceeding from a body at hand 
 for a loud sound proceeding from a distant body, or it 
 may be deceived in regard to the direction from whence 
 the sound proceeds. There is one peculiarity in the 
 sense of hearing which deserves notice, — namely, that 
 the acoustic nerves may be acted on through other parts 
 of the body than the ear. A deaf man has been known 
 to derive much pleasure from music, by making the nails 
 of his fingers a medium of communication between 
 himself and the musical instrument, and most persons 
 are familiar with the experiment of suspending a bar of 
 iron (a poker is often made use of for the purpose) with a 
 string, holding the string in the teeth, and then striking 
 
THE SENSES. 
 
 11 
 
 the bar of iron. The sensation of sound produced is 
 much stronger than it is when heard through the ear. 
 Some substances have a singular power of conveying 
 sound. If the ear he applied to a log or deal of timber 
 near the one end, the slightest scratch at the other end 
 will be distinctly heard. Soldiers in the field often dis- 
 cover the tramp of cavalry at a considerable distance by 
 applying their ear to the ground. The teeth and other 
 bones of the body may communicate the vibrations of 
 sound to the acoustic nerves. 
 
 Sight. — The nerves of sight, called also the visual 
 or optic nerves, have their outer extremity in the inner 
 surface of the back part of the eye, called the retina. 
 The material substance that acts upon these nerves is 
 light. Light proceeds from every luminous body with 
 extreme velocity, having been ascertained to travel at 
 the rate of 193,000, say, for the sake of round numbers, 
 300,000 miles in a second. It has been supposed to 
 consist of particles of matter of inconceivable minuteness, 
 sent off in right lines from the luminous body. But the 
 opinion seems to be gaining ground that it consists rather 
 of the vibrations of an extremely subtle fluid every where 
 dispersed, somewhat like the vibrations of the air which 
 cause sound, but generated incornparably more rapidly 
 in consequence of the incomparably greater subtlety of 
 the fluid. The great objection to this theory is, that rays 
 of white light are found to be composed of rays of 
 differently coloured light, refrangible in different degrees, 
 and that the rays of the sun consist not merely of light 
 but of heat, and of other rays that produce a chemical 
 effect on some objects on which they fall ; the rays of 
 light and heat and the chemical rays being also refran- 
 gible in different degrees. Whether the dif&culties con- 
 nected with the compound nature of rays of light, and 
 the different powers which the game medium exercises 
 upon different rays in refracting or bending them out of 
 their straight course, shall ever be satisfactorily answered. 
 
12 
 
 THE SENSES. 
 
 cannot at present be known. It must, however, be 
 admitted that there are difficulties connected with the 
 other hypothesis, that light consists of particles of matter 
 sent off from the luminous body in straight lines, which 
 are scarcely less formidable. 
 
 The apparatus provided for collecting the rays of 
 light and bringing them into contact with the optic 
 nerves is the eye. This beautiful instrument consists 
 of a hollow opaque sphere, placed in a circular aperture 
 in the skull, having a small circular hole in the front of 
 it for the purpose of admitting the rays of light into the 
 interior of it. This circular hole, which is the pupil of 
 the eye, has in connection with it a series of refracting 
 media by which the rays of light entering it are collected 
 on the surface of the retina, where an image of the 
 external object from which the rays of light emanate is 
 formed. The extremity of the optic nerve spread over 
 the surface of the retina there meets with the rays of 
 light forming the image of the object, and sensation is 
 produced. The hollow sphere is furnished with muscles 
 and every thing necessary for moving it in ever}^ direction, 
 protecting it from injury, cleansing and moistening it, 
 and thus fitting it for its important functions. 
 
 It has been supposed that the sense of sight intimates 
 to the mind the direction from which the light proceeds. 
 That the eye discerns the direction from whence light 
 proceeds to it with much more precision than the ear 
 discerns the direction from which the vibration of the air 
 causing the sensation of sound proceeds, is certainly true. 
 But we believe that this more exact discernment is not 
 produced by the mere sense of sight, but by the muscular 
 power of the eye in turning the pupil towards any 
 luminous object. But the whole subject of perception 
 by the senses will be more carefully considered as we 
 proceed. 
 
 Three of these organs of sense have a double appa- 
 ratus at the external extremity of the nerves of sense for 
 
THE SENSES. 
 
 13 
 
 aiding and regulating its access to the material substance 
 calculated to affect them, — namely, the sense of smell, 
 which has the two nostrils ; the sense of hearing, which 
 has the two ears ; and the sense of sight, which has the 
 two eyes. The sense of taste has only one such medium 
 or apparatus for communicating with external things, 
 the tongue ; and the sense of touch has no particular 
 apparatus of that kind, the extremities of the tactual 
 nerves being, as we have said, spread over the whole 
 surface external and internal of the body. The double 
 apparatus possessed by three of the senses does not 
 cause double sensation, hut only strengthens the one 
 sensation. The two nostrils do not cause a double, but 
 a stronger smell ; nor do the two ears cause a double 
 sound, but strengthen the single sound. So, in a healthy 
 and natural state of the eyes, the sensations produced by 
 them is not double but single. But some diseases of the 
 eye, or pressure on one of the eye-balls forcing it out of 
 its natural position, causes double sensation. If the two 
 eyes be directed to a very near object, more distant 
 objects may be seen double; or if the eyes be directed to 
 a distant object, and a near object, such as the finger, be 
 interposed between them and the distant object, a double 
 image of the near object may be seen. Thus, if both a 
 near and a distant object be before the eyes at the same 
 time, the near object may be seen double by directing 
 the eyes to the distant object, or the distant object may 
 he seen double by directing the eyes to the near object. 
 Or, if the same distant object be seen by the one eye 
 through a magnifying prospect-glass, and by the other 
 naked, two images of the object will be seen; the one 
 larger than the other, which, by a little management, 
 may be brought near to one another, and compared, so 
 as to enable the observer to measure the magnifying 
 power of the prospect-glass. Or, the same object may 
 be viewed by tw^o prospect-glasses at the same time 
 applied to the two eyes, and double images of the object 
 
14 
 
 THE SENSES. 
 
 produced, which may he compared, and the comparative 
 magnifying powers of the two instruments ascertained. 
 From such phenomena as these it has been conjectured 
 that there are corresponding points on the retina of each 
 eye on which, if a pencil of light fall, it produces but one 
 sensation, hut that if a ray of light from any object be 
 made to fall on points which do not correspond, double 
 sensation is produced. No artificial effect on the ears 
 or the nostrils has ever been found to cause a double 
 sensation of sounds or smells; nor are we aware that 
 any disease of these organs has ever caused such a 
 phenomenon. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 GENEEAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 I. Each of these five organs of sense yield many 
 different sensations ; the taste distinguishes many 
 different savours ; the smell many different odours ; 
 the hearing many different sounds ; the touch many 
 different degrees and modifications of impact or pres- 
 sure, and many different degrees of heat and cold ; and 
 the sight many different degrees of light and shade, and 
 many different colours. 
 
 The various sensations caused by the different 
 qualities in external objects, forms the only means of 
 communication which the mind possesses with the 
 material world. They have been compared to the win- 
 dows through which the mind looks out upon external 
 objects ; but they are rather of the nature of apertures 
 through which the material world finds access to the 
 mind. The activity in establishing the communication 
 is not in the mind, but in the external objects. It is the 
 effluvia emanating from odoriferous bodies entering the 
 nostrils ; the undulations of the air from a sonorous 
 body entering the ears ; the rays of light from a luminous 
 
GENEEAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 15 
 
 body entering the pupils of the eyes, that awakens the 
 mind to sensation, and not the mind already awake and 
 active looking out for external objects. In two of the 
 senses, the substances fitted to create sensation must 
 be brought into actual contact with the organ before 
 sensation is produced. When the mind is affected 
 by objects of sense, it becomes active within itself, as 
 we are to explain in the sequel ; but originally, the 
 sensation comes to the mind from without, and not the 
 mind to the object of sensation. 
 
 3. These sensations form the elements and origin of 
 all thought, — all pleasure or pain, and all intellectual 
 operations. The mind once affected by them, works 
 them up into a prodigious variety of most interesting 
 and important operations, by comparing, discriminating, 
 remembering, arranging, drawing inferences, — all the 
 variety and complexity of mental operations. For apart 
 from sensations, and the operations of the mind upon 
 them, the mind would remain as dormant as when the 
 body is in the womb. 
 
 4. Most, or all of these classes of sensations, seem 
 to be capable of being excited by other means than 
 those which form the usual causes of them. For 
 example, certain diseases produce sensations of sound 
 or noise that cannot be distinguished from the sensa- 
 tions produced by sounding bodies. Pressure, or impact 
 on the eye, produces sensations similar to those pro- 
 duced by luminous objects. Whether the illusions 
 produced by such diseases as delirium tremens be caused 
 by effects on the visual nerves, or by some other inter- 
 nal cause unconnected with the nerves, must be left to 
 the researches of pathologists ; but that these phenomena 
 are produced by the effects of disease on the visual 
 nerves seems most probable, inasmuch as the illusions 
 consist of images of visible objects. Some diseases in 
 various parts of the body, external and internal, pro- 
 duce sensations that so closely resemble the sensations 
 
16 GENEEAL OBSEEVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 caused by the pressure of external substances, or the 
 application of sharp edges or sharp-pointed instruments, 
 or the application of fire or of heated substances, that 
 patients labouring under these affections always describe 
 them by reference to the pain caused by such external 
 applications ; the}^- say they feel as if there were a weight 
 resting on the part, or as if it were pierced with a 
 sharp instrument, or as if it were burnt. Whether 
 unpleasant smells and tastes may not arise from diseases 
 directly affecting the nerves of taste or smell, or 
 whether these sensations may not proceed from odours 
 or tastes actually coming up from the interior of the 
 body to the palate and the olfactory nerves, is another 
 question that belongs to pathology. There, how^ever, 
 can be no doubt that some sensations can be produced 
 otherwise than by the ordinary process originating in an 
 external body communicating with the mind through 
 the organ of sensation. 
 
 5. When different organs of sense are affected at the 
 same time — as the ear with sounds, the eye with light, 
 the nostrils with odour, the sense of touch by contact 
 with any substance ; or when the same organ of sense is 
 affected at the same moment by different objects — as the 
 ear by different sounds, the eye by different colours, the 
 nostril by different odours — the result is not one sensa- 
 tion modified by these different causes of sensation, nor 
 a multitude of sensations affecting the mind simultane- 
 ously : but the effect is, that one sensation occupies the 
 mind to the exclusion of the others, the mind being 
 rendered for the time insensible to the other effects pro- 
 duced on the organs of sense. The causes that may 
 give to one sensation its preponderating power to possess 
 the mind exclusively, are various. Intensity is one of 
 the most prevalent. A loud noise, a dazzling light, 
 an intense odour, or savour, will occupy the whole 
 mind for a time, precluding other sensations, although 
 other effects are being at the moment produced on the 
 
GENEEAL OBSEKVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 17 
 
 organs of sense, which, hut for the absorption of the 
 mind, would produce sensation. Another quality that 
 may give to a sensation the power of exclusively occupy- 
 ing the mind is novelty. The cause of this will be ex- 
 plained as we proceed. Another quality in sensations 
 that gives them power to fix the attention upon them- 
 selves, is the amount of pleasure or of pain which they 
 occasion. An exquisite pleasure, which may be afforded 
 by a very slight action on the sensory nerves, or a pain- 
 ful sensation, which perhaps is not always occasioned 
 by too strong an action on the nerves of sense, but some- 
 times by the nature of the action, will irresistibly com- 
 mand the attention of the mind. Still another cause 
 of the absorption of the mind by one sensation, is a 
 desire accompanying it to examine or consider it, which 
 desire may be excited by various motives. But of this, 
 also, more as we proceed. 
 
 It has been argued, that the mind is capable of being 
 affected by only one cause of sensation at a time. That, 
 however, cannot be said to have been proved. On the 
 contrary, there are phenomena that seem to militate 
 against it ; while, on the other hand, it must be ad- 
 mitted, that many of the phenomena that seem to 
 exhibit the mind, as influenced by several sensations at 
 the same time, are rather to be accounted for by a rapid 
 transition from one sensation to another, than by an 
 absolutely simultaneous attention to different sensations. 
 Whether, indeed, all other sensations are excluded from 
 the mind for the moment by the absorbing sensation, or 
 whether the other sensations exist in the mind, but the 
 mind is rendered insensible to them by the master sen- 
 sation of the moment, is scarcely an intelligible question, 
 and at all events one which it would be very difficult, if 
 not impossible, to answer. There can be no doubt, 
 however, that the general habit of the mind is to attend 
 to only one sensation at a time. 
 
 This tendency of the mind to be wholly occupied with 
 
18 
 
 GENEKAL OBSEKVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 one sensation at a time has been regarded by some — 
 perhaps, by metaphysicians generally — as a distinct power 
 of the mind, and called “ attention.” But it ought, per- 
 haps, rather to be regarded as a limit to its power than 
 as a distinct power — a limit confining it to one object 
 of thought at a time. The quality or adjunct of a sen- 
 sation, which causes it to absorb the whole attention of 
 the mind, is usually, we have seen, from without — some 
 quality in the external object of sense. When it is in 
 the mind itself, as when it consists of an accompanying 
 desire to examine it, the motive to that desire is from 
 without, or at least does not originate m any act of the 
 mind itself. But we shall have occasion to return to 
 this subject. We shall therefore retain the word. 
 
 “ attention,” but not signifying a distinct power of the 
 mind, but as a limit to its capacity of receiving influ- 
 ences from without ; or, more generally, a limit to its 
 power of thought, confining it to one object at a time. 
 The cases in which the mind seems to exert a power to 
 command attention to any object of thought will come 
 to be considered in the sequel. 
 
 6. Many of our sensations are either agreeable or 
 disagreeable, some pleasurable even to ecstasy, and some 
 painful to overpowering agony. Many which have become : 
 indifferent were either agreeable or disagreeable, pleasant | 
 or painful, on our first experiencing them. Perhaps, few 
 or none were indifferent when first experienced, but have 
 become so in obedience to a law afterwards to be noticed. 
 
 There are two causes which render sensations dis- ■ 
 agreeable. We do not here allude to secondary causes, 
 such as the suggestion of painful recollections, but to 
 the effect produced by them on experiencing them for 
 the first time. The first is, too great intensity— too 
 dazzling a light, too loud a sound, too intense a smell or 
 taste, too great excitement of the nerves of touch, as by 
 a wound, or a blow, or a pressure, or burning. The too 
 violent action of any of the nerves of sense, render 
 
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 19 
 
 sensations, which would he pleasant if experienced in 
 a slighter degree, disagreeable, painful, agonising, ac- 
 cording to the degree of the too violent action on them. 
 And it is to be observed, that too violent action on the 
 nerves of sense does not depend exclusively on the 
 external object acting on them, but partly on the state 
 of the organ itself. The organs of touch are defended by 
 the cuticle, which is itself a horny, insensible substance, 
 sheathing them like a glove. If the cuticle be removed 
 from any part, and the extremity of the nerve laid bare, 
 the touch of the blandest substance becomes like the 
 touch of fire. The nerves of the other senses seem to 
 be protected in a similar manner, so that when any 
 disease lays them bare, or more exposed to be acted on, 
 the slightest excitement of them may become intolerable. 
 The eye may feel the introduction of the faintest light 
 to be torture, the ear unable to bear the slightest sound ; 
 and the taste and smell to be painfully affected with the 
 gentlest savour or odour. 
 
 The other cause that renders sensations unpleasant, 
 is something in the exciting cause of the sensation which 
 all experience, but which cannot be defined. Some 
 tastes and smells are unpleasant when experienced in 
 the slightest degree. Some sounds also, as the creaking 
 of rusty wheels or hinges, the filing of metals, especially 
 in sharpening saws, and, to some persons, the cutting 
 of coarse paper, create unpleasant sensations. Some 
 tactile sensations, also, are unpleasant, such as that 
 occasioned by a fringe or rag on one of the nails coming 
 into contact with cloth, especially woollen cloth; although 
 in this feeling, and, perhaps, in some others, there may be 
 an admixture of unpleasant suggestions. We have never 
 heard of any modification of light being in itself un- 
 pleasant to the nerves of sight. It is reported of a 
 person, who received his sight at a mature age by a 
 surgical operation, that he expressed the greatest horror 
 when any black object was presented to him. But black 
 
20 
 
 GENEKAL OBSEBVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 is the absence of colour, and his horror might he occa- 
 sioned by its reminding him of the darkness from which 
 he had been delivered, and in that case would rather 
 prove the delight which the sensation of sight afforded 
 him. We have known a man blind from early infancy, 
 but who still retained the power of distinguishing bright 
 light from darkness, taking great pleasure in going out 
 to the open air on sunny days, and rolling his sight- 
 less eyeballs opposite to the sun, and declaring that he 
 would not exchange the sensation which he experienced 
 for any worldly emolument. Sensations unpleasant in 
 their own nature are chiefly confined to the senses of 
 smell and taste; which, having the office assigned to them 
 to judge what is fit or unfit for food, and the substances 
 which are unfit for food far outnumbering the others, one 
 might expect that the disagreeable sensations of smell 
 and taste would far outnumber those that are agreeable. 
 But most substances that are unfit for food are destitute 
 of odour ; and if they have an unpleasant savour, they 
 must actually be applied to the tongue before they can 
 produce sensation. The sensations of smell and taste are 
 thus much more within the power of the will than other 
 sensations. But, excluding the sensations of smell and 
 taste, we conceive it highly probable that all other 
 sensations, all sights and tactile feelings, with the few 
 exceptions noticed above, are, when not too intense, 
 originally pleasant, many of them exquisitely so. Bright 
 light, whether white or coloured, if not too intense — all 
 sounds, if not too loud, especially musical sounds — seem 
 always to afford pleasure to an infant. And when an 
 infant, very recently introduced into the world of sounds 
 and sights, and feelings, and tastes, and smells, is awake, 
 and even when it is asleep, its little countenance indicates 
 a constant play of agreeable or disagreeable sensations ; 
 the transition from the one to the other, from the smile 
 to the frown, and from the frown hack to the smile, 
 being rapid and incessant. 
 
GENEEAL OBSEEVATIONS ON THE SENSES, 
 
 SI 
 
 We conclude, therefore, with expressing our conviction 
 that all sensations, when first experienced, are either 
 agreeable or disagreeable, pleasant or painful. 
 
 When sensations, whether pleasant or painful, are 
 long continued, the pain or the pleasure gradually sub- 
 sides; pleasant sensations become indifferent; slightly 
 disagreeable sensations also become indifferent ; and very 
 painful sensations, if they do not become indifferent, 
 become much more tolerable. The sweetest sounds, 
 and the most beautiful and brilliant colours, cease, by 
 continuance, to afford the delight which they at first 
 gave ; so also the most exquisite perfumes and savours 
 lose their power of affording pleasure. Painful sensa- 
 tions also tend to lose their power of giving pain, and to 
 become indifferent. People who live in the midst of 
 the most offensive smells, or the most discordant and 
 deafening sounds, gradually become insensible to them. 
 
 There are two causes which contribute to this effect ; 
 but whether they be the only causes w^e are not prepared 
 to assert. The first is, that the organs of sense seem to 
 become insensible to the pain or pleasure of any sensa- 
 tions. Take a familiar example : put one hand into 
 w^ater hotter than can be borne without great pain, and 
 you cannot keep it in the water for a single second ; yet 
 if it be not hot enough to blister the skin, you may, by 
 trpng it several times, at length be able to keep it 
 immersed in the water without any pain. That this 
 does not arise from the water having cooled, you will 
 find by trying the other hand ; and you will find it still 
 too hot for that hand, till, according to the common 
 expression, it has become accustomed to it. In the 
 same manner the palate becomes accustomed to the 
 most pungent tastes — strong pepper, mustard, or ardent 
 spirits, so that they can be swallowed without pain. 
 This is a most merciful provision in a state in which we 
 are exposed to 'so much pain ; and to what extent causes 
 of pain the most excruciating when first experienced. 
 
22 
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 may lose the power of giving pain, it would be difficult 
 to say ; and how far the gradual alleviation of such 
 pains as toothache, rheumatism, wounds, fractures, dis- 
 locations, even cancers, and the power of bearing these 
 maladies with equanimity, may be due to this merciful 
 provision in our constitution, deserves the consideration 
 of pathologists. 
 
 Another cause which contributes to the diminishing 
 and gradual cessation of the pain or pleasure of long- 
 continued sensations, is that they lose their novelty, and 
 so lose that power of fixing the attention upon them- 
 selves. We have said that one cause of any sensation 
 drawing the attention exclusively to itself, was its novelty ; 
 but if any, either pleasant or painful, sensation, be long 
 continued, it of course loses that power over the atten- 
 tion, and the mind becomes more at liberty to attend to 
 other objects. This, doubtless, is one of the reasons 
 why the pain and the pleasure of any sensation is always 
 greatest on first experiencing it. The very novelty of it 
 draws the attention forcibly to it ; but when the novelty 
 passes away, other sensations acquire power to draw 
 away the attention from it : hence the efficacy of new 
 sights and sounds employed by nurses to draw off the 
 attention of children from causes of pain and irritation. 
 We shall have occasion to return to this important 
 phenomenon in treating of memory. 
 
 We add for the present, respecting this abatement of 
 the pleasure or pain entering as elements into our sensa- 
 tions on the prolongation or repetition of them, that it is 
 the cause of so large a proportion of our ordinary sensations 
 being indifferent ; and not that any of them were from 
 the first indifferent. 
 
 Those sensations which gave more exquisite delight 
 on first experiencing them, seem to pursue a rather 
 different course when frequently repeated. They, too, 
 first become indifferent by repetition ; but on the repetition 
 continuing, they become unpleasant and irksome, till 
 
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 23 
 
 the unpleasantness or irksomeness itself follows the 
 general law, and sinks into indifference. A savoury 
 dish presented for many days successively, becomes 
 nauseous ; but if it continue to be repeated, especially if 
 it be the only means provided of allaying hunger, the 
 dislike with which it was received passes away. A piece 
 of music that threw us into ecstasy when we first heard 
 it, becomes, by long continued repetition, first indif- 
 ferent, then irksome, and again indifferent. These 
 more exquisitely pleasant sensations proceed by a more 
 circuitous route than ordinary sensations to the common 
 tomb of indifference. A sensation, or series of sensa- 
 tions, that have thus lost their power of yielding pleasure, 
 and have become indifferent, may even recover the 
 power of yielding pleasure, but pleasure of a different 
 kind. It may become connected in the mind with other 
 pleasing sensations, and yield pleasure by recalling these. 
 A tune that has ceased to give pleasure from its own 
 original power, may, by being sung on occasions of 
 hilarity and social enjoyment, fill the heart with gladness 
 when it is occasionally heard. The National Anthem, 
 by being used as an expression of loyalty and nationality, 
 may yield enjoyment by exciting feelings of respect 
 and affection for a beloved sovereign in the hearts of a 
 loyal people. The sound of bagpipes in a foreign land 
 may excite overpowering delight in the heart of a Scot- 
 tish Highlander, by recalling to him the scenes of his 
 distant home. 
 
 Unpleasant sensations follow a similar course by 
 repetition. They become first indifferent, many of them 
 afterwards pleasant, and then again sink into indifference. 
 Such substances as tobacco, mustard, porter, ardent spirits, 
 occasion at first unpleasant sensations ; on being repeated 
 frequently, the organs of taste become reconciled to 
 them, and they become indifferent ; and they may after- 
 wards recover a secondary power of yielding pleasure, 
 chiefly that of allaying a painful sensation occasioned by 
 
24 
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 their absence : for this, we apprehend, comes to be the 
 only pleasure which the use of such substances as 
 tobacco, mustard, or alcoholic liquors, yields to those who 
 are addicted to the use of them. The original dislike of 
 them, and the pleasure which succeeded to it, have both 
 long since ceased ; hut the continued use of them has 
 created a craving after them by their action on the 
 gastric or olfactory nerves, the pain of which they allay 
 for a short time ; and the allaying of pain is one of the 
 most common, as it is the most exquisite, of our enjoy- 
 ments. Some of these habits, particularly smoking 
 tobacco and drinking intoxicating liquors, may derive 
 their secondary power of yielding pleasure, from their 
 recalling scenes of companionship and hilarity. 
 
 We come now to two observations on sensation of the 
 very highest importance in the study of the human 
 mind, and which will necessarily modify the form ahd 
 order of our further investigations. The first observa- 
 tion is — 
 
 7. That none of these classes of sensations, nor all of 
 them together, could of themselves convey to the mind 
 any notion of any being external to the mind itself, and 
 consequently could never awaken any of those emotions 
 or operations of the mind which imply the knowledge 
 of an external world, or of other minds. This truth 
 is now generally, perhaps we ought to say universally, 
 admitted by all who desire to he regarded as mental philo- 
 sophers in the proper sense of the word — men who seek 
 their knowledge of the mind as they do their knowledge 
 of the material world, by observing phenomena, and who 
 do not feel themselves at liberty to indulge in the flights 
 and fancies of what is called “ transcendental philosophy ” 
 — a sort of philosophy which we are more disposed to com- 
 pare to an ineffectual groping in mud, than to the more 
 pleasant, though equally ineffectual, mental exercise of 
 flights and fancies. 
 
 Without attempting to repeat, or to abridge, the various 
 
GENEEAL OBSEKVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 25 
 
 arguments by which this great truth has been proved to 
 the satisfaction of all mental philosophers, we shall 
 endeavour to give such an illustration of it as may re- 
 concile to it the minds of persons unaccustomed to 
 mental investigations. 
 
 Let us, for this purpose, suppose a human mind, with 
 all its natural faculties, connected with a body possessing 
 all the organs of sense, but without power to move any 
 muscle of the body. If we may be indulged in so 
 monstrous a supposition, let us suppose a human mind 
 connected with a human head laid motionless, with its 
 face upwards, like a head of wax ; the eye and the mouth 
 open, but perfectly motionless, the nostrils and the ears 
 exposed to odours and sounds, and the whole face having 
 the sense of touch, and all the organs of sense perfectly 
 fitted for conveying to the mind all intimations from 
 without ; and let us consider what operations the mind 
 would be capable of in such circumstances, and the 
 nature and amount of knowledge to which it might 
 attain. 
 
 We have said, that in such circumstances it could 
 never attain to any conception of anything external to 
 itself, or of any being besides itself. 
 
 Let us commence with the sense of sight ; for, if we 
 succeed in convincing any one that this sense would not 
 of itself convey the notion of external objects, we shall 
 have no difficulty in convincing that none of the other 
 senses would convey to it that notion. We are so accus- 
 tomed to imagine that we see external objects by the 
 eye — and not mere varieties of light and shade, which we 
 learn by practice to decipher, and understand that these 
 varieties of light and shade are produced by external 
 objects in various positions — that persons unacquainted 
 with metaphysical inquiries may find it difficult to be- 
 lieve that any object can be presented to the eye without 
 conveying the idea of its existence external to the eye. 
 It may help to get them over this difficulty to consider 
 
26 
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 how easily the eye is deceived by a well-executed 
 painting. The painter, according to certain rules of 
 perspective, draws an outline of different objects, in 
 various positions and various distances ; he then colours 
 his outline with various tints, lighter and darker ; and 
 the result is that he makes people imagine that they see 
 objects in different positions and different distances, 
 when all that they do see are merely a few lines, and 
 different patches of colour, on a perfectly flat surface. 
 Again, if any person look attentively for some time at a 
 bright object, as, for example, a window through which 
 he sees a bright sky, and then shut his eyes, he will 
 see the window, as if it were floating before him, of a 
 different colour from what it was when his eyes were 
 open looking at it ; and yet he knows that it is not floating 
 before him, but entirely in his own mind. These facts 
 may aid them in believing what has been proved to the 
 satisfaction of the most sceptical — partly by investigating 
 the nature of visual sensations, and partly by observing 
 phenomena — that it is only by practice and experience 
 that we learn from the sense of sight the existence, and 
 positions, and comparative distances of external objects. 
 In a celebrated case, reported by Dr. Cheselden, of a 
 youth receiving the sense of sight by a surgical opera- 
 tion, it was found that, on first opening his eyes to the 
 light, all objects, at whatever distances they might 
 be, appeared to touch the eye. We apprehend that this 
 notion of external objects touching the eye was derived, 
 not from the sense of sight, but from his previous know- 
 ledge that there are external objects, and his habit of 
 tracing all sensations to external objects. Had these 
 been his first sensations, he probably would not have 
 known that they came through the eye ; but he was 
 previously acquainted with the structure of his body, he 
 was familiar with the sensations derived through the 
 other organs of sense, he perceived at once that these 
 new sensations were different from the others, that they 
 
GENEKAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 27 
 
 were neither sound, nor smell, nor taste, nor feeling ; 
 an operation had been performed upon his eye by which 
 his attention was directed to that organ, as well as by 
 the previous conversations which he must have had 
 respecting his blindness, which induced him to submit 
 to the operation. Had it not been for all this amount of 
 previous experience, he probably would not have traced 
 the sensations to his eye rather than to any other part 
 of his body. In all similar operations that have been 
 performed, by which persons capable of describing their 
 sensations have first received the power of seeing, it has 
 been found that the magnitude, distance, figure, and 
 position of objects were all to be learned like a new 
 language ; and that when objects of different forms, as a 
 cube and a sphere, were first seen by one who was pre- 
 viously acquainted with them, they could not be dis- 
 tinguished, by their appearance to the eye, so that the one 
 could with certainty be said to be the cube and the other 
 the sphere. Infants have, for a considerable time, no 
 conception of the relative distance of objects. They 
 stretch out their hands to touch or lay hold of the moon 
 as readily as any other shining object that is near them. 
 To a mind, therefore, circumstanced according to our 
 hypothesis — connected with a body destitute of all power 
 of motion — the various objects of sight presented to the 
 eye would merely be like those visions of visible objects 
 that seem to float before the eye when it is closed after 
 looking steadfastly at them ; but instead of viewing 
 them as floating before the eye, which is a notion that 
 we derive from our habit of regarding all sensations as 
 coming from without, it would conceive of them, as those 
 floating visions in fact are, as only in the mind itself, 
 without any separate existence from it."^ 
 
 But if we could derive no knowledge of external 
 objects from, the sense of sight, much less could we 
 derive such knowledge from the sense of hearing, or 
 
 * See Note A. in the Appendix. 
 
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 tasting, or smelling ; for even with all our experience, 
 these senses give no notice of external bodies, their 
 direction, or distance, or form, nor even of their exist- 
 ence, except in consequence of our habit of tracing all 
 sensations to some external cause. A mind circumstanced 
 as we have supposed would be affected by different sounds, 
 smells, tastes, merely as if they arose in the mind itself, 
 without suggesting any cause. 
 
 It has been supposed by many of the latest and 
 most enlightened writers on the mind, that we derive 
 our knowledge of external objects from the sense of 
 touch. That, however, to a mind in the condition sup- 
 posed, seems to be impossible. No variety of tactile 
 sensations, affecting the cheek or any part of the head, 
 the touching or pressing any part with a blunt or a 
 pointed instrument, rubbing it with a smooth or a rough 
 surface, or the introduction to it of a cold or a heated 
 atmosphere, could convey to it any conception of material 
 substance acting upon it. These various modifications 
 of feeling w^ould appear to arise in the mind like the 
 sensations derived from sounds or odours, without 
 suggesting any external cause. Even with all our 
 experience, we could not distinguish a puncture or cut 
 with a sharp instrument from a touch of fire, or a drop 
 of scalding water, or a touch of caustic. Our internal 
 feelings of pain give us no intimation of the cause of 
 it. We learn to judge of external objects by the modi- 
 fications of the sense of touch, just as we learn to judge 
 of them by the modifications of the sense of sight ; but 
 neither the one sense nor the other, nor both combined, 
 would convey to us any notion or knowledge of objects 
 external to the mind itself. The manner in which we 
 obtain the notion of the external world, we shall endea- 
 vour to trace in a subsequent part of our investigation. 
 
 The second of the two important observations to 
 which we have particularly called the attention of the 
 reader is — 
 
GENEBAL OBSEBVATIONS ON THE SENSES. 
 
 29 
 
 8. That none of these sensations, nor any succession 
 of them, could convey to the mind the notion of cause 
 and effect. It has been argued that every change in 
 the state of the mind necessarily suggests some cause 
 of that change, at least that there must be such a cause. 
 It is true that, having previously obtained possession of 
 the notion of cause and effect, we do naturally ascribe 
 every change to some cause. But in a mind circumstanced 
 according to our hypothesis, we do not see how such a 
 notion could be obtained. It is manifest that it could 
 not ascribe the changes taking place within itself to any 
 cause external to itself, for it has not acquired the notion 
 of anything beyond itself. If, therefore, the idea of 
 cause could arise in it, it could only be a cause within 
 itself. Yet it could not regard a previous sensation as 
 the cause of the following one, for that would be con- 
 trary to truth. Whether the revival of sensations in 
 memory (to be treated of immediately) would suggest 
 the idea of the original sensation being the cause of the 
 remembrance of it ; or whether a sensation or thought 
 suggesting another thought might introduce the notion 
 of its being the cause of that other thought, might 
 appear more doubtful ; but without arguing the point, 
 we only express our conviction, that the notion of cause 
 and effect is obtained in another way, to be afterwards 
 explained. In the meantime we proceed to consider 
 the attainments which a human mind might make, 
 circumstanced according to our hypothesis, open to 
 influences from without, through the organs of sense, 
 but destitute of power to move any muscle of the body. 
 
30 
 
 MEMOBY. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MEMOBY. 
 
 If the various sensations that affect the mind were, on 
 their ceasing, to pass away for ever, leaving no trace 
 behind, the mind would be somewhat like a mirror with 
 various objects passing before it, each producing its 
 transient effect, and then vanishing ; or like a musical 
 instrument on which a tune has been played, which 
 retains no trace of the tune, nor any peculiar aptitude 
 for repeating that tune. But the mind is unlike the 
 mirror or the musical instrument in this, that sensa- 
 tions which it has once experienced may be recalled to 
 it without the intervention of the external object which 
 originally awakened them. The mind is so constituted, 
 that it may experience again, but with some modifica- 
 tions, the sensations of light and colour which it once 
 experienced, without the help of the same external 
 objects to reproduce those sensations ; and to hear again, 
 with certain modifications, the tune which it has once 
 heard, without the help of the instrument, or of the 
 musician who performed upon it. 
 
 Some metaphysicians confine the word memory to 
 those instances of r^cal or representation of any sensa- 
 tion to the mind, in which it remembers along with it 
 the time and circumstances in which it originally expe- 
 rienced the revived sensation, or at least is conscious 
 that it did experience it. But surely if a sensation be 
 recalled, it does not make any difference in that power 
 of the mind which recalled it, that we remember, or do 
 not remember, when and how we originally experienced 
 it. We shall have occasion to return to this topic. 
 
 Thus, if the toll of a bell be heard, another toll of 
 the same bell some time afterwards will recal to the 
 mind the former toll^ or if a bright light be once seen. 
 
MEMOEY. 
 
 31 
 
 a second sensation afterwards, caused by a bright light, 
 will recal the former ; and so with regard to sensations 
 received through any of the senses. 
 
 Nor is this power in one sensation to recal another 
 confined to sensations of the same organ recalling one 
 another. Sensations of sight may recal sensations of 
 sound, or sensations of sound may recal sensations of 
 sight ; and so of all the senses, the sensations of which 
 may reciprocally recal one another. 
 
 Neither is this power confined to sensations recalling 
 sensations similar in any respect to one another. A 
 gentle sensation may recal a violent one ; a long con- 
 tinued one may recal a transient one, or the contrary. 
 Nay, the very dissimilarity of sensations may be the 
 means of recalling one another. 
 
 Again, sensations that are experienced at the same 
 time, or in immediate succession, naturally recal one 
 another. If a mind in the condition which we have 
 supposed were open to the vicissitudes of day and 
 night, and if, immediately before daybreak, the sound of 
 a drum were heard, then the sound of the drum would 
 certainly recal the sensation of light formerly caused by 
 the daybreak. Or, if immediately before the setting 
 in of darkness the sound of a bell were heard, the 
 sound of the same bell would certainly recal the sensation 
 of darkness. 
 
 If, during the day, artificial darkness were produced, 
 it would recal the sound of the bell which on former 
 (jfcasions had preceded darkness ; and if, during the 
 night, artificial light were introduced, it would recal the 
 sound of the drum by which, on former occasions, the 
 sensation of light had been preceded. 
 
 If bright light were generally accompanied with heat 
 or warmth, then bright light would recal the sensation 
 of warmth, and warmth the sensation of bright light. 
 Or, if a particular smell and taste were experienced 
 together, either of these sensations would recal the 
 
33 
 
 MEMOKY. 
 
 other; and if they were preceded or accompanied hy 
 the sound of a hell, then any one of these sensations, 
 the taste, or the smell, or the sound, would recal the 
 others. 
 
 If a number of sensations were frequently repeated 
 in the same order, such as the various modifications of 
 sound forming a tune, they would be recalled in the 
 same order. By frequent hearing of a tune, the whole 
 sounds of the tune may be recalled in the same order, 
 while no two of them may be recalled in the reverse 
 order. Perfect familiarity with a piece of music does 
 little to enable us to perform, or remember it backward. 
 
 Hence we may learn the importance of observing a 
 certain order, so far as it is practicable, in the fulfilment 
 of all necessary duties. By the repetition of them in 
 the same order of succession, each as it is finished will 
 suggest that which is to follow, as every note of a tune 
 suggests its successor. Whereas, if one duty sometimes 
 precedes, and sometimes follows another, and, conse- 
 quently, each is sometimes followed by one, and some- 
 times by another duty, some must always be in danger 
 of being omitted. 
 
 This power, or capacity, or aptitude of the mind for 
 having past sensations renewed is called memory, and 
 the reviving or renewing the sensations is called 
 remembering them, for memory is never exercised but 
 according to those laws by which past sensations are 
 recalled. These laws are sometimes called laws of 
 association, or, more correctly, the laws of suggestion. 
 As memory is the power or aptitude of the mind for 
 having its past sensations recalled or revived, so the 
 laws of suggestion are the laws by which recals or 
 revivals of sensations take place. 
 
 We have spoken of sensations recalled as if the 
 sensation itself were repeated ; but there is a wide dif- 
 ference between a past sensation being revived in the 
 mind and a similar sensation being excited by the same 
 
MEMORY. 
 
 33 
 
 external object affecting the organs of sense. Thinking 
 of or remembering anything that we have seen or heard 
 is very different from seeing or hearing it again. The 
 amount and nature, however, of the difference between 
 an original sensation, and the same sensation remem- 
 bered, is not very easy to determine. Much of the 
 indistinctness of remembered sensations, when compared 
 with the original sensations, is doubtless to be ascribed 
 to the multitude of different objects which during our 
 waking hours are operating on the organs of sense, and, 
 as it were, soliciting our attention ; for however intent 
 we may be on any remembrance, present objects are 
 seldom or never excluded from all share of our attention. 
 But when external objects are absolutely excluded, as in 
 sleep or in waking reveries, remembered sensations 
 sometimes assume much or all of the distinctness of 
 reality. Yet, even in these cases, we question whether 
 the remembered sensation is ever so vivid as the original 
 one. We may be impressed with the reality of the 
 objects that occupy the mind in dreams, but that is 
 because they are not brought into contrast with original 
 sensations ; but it does not follow that they are in any 
 case so vivid as original sensations. The pain of a 
 toothache remembered in a dream is very different from 
 an actual repetition of the pain. The one would pro- 
 bably awake us ; the other, although we believe it for the 
 time to be real, permits us to sleep on. We sometimes 
 say that we remember a transaction or event at which 
 we were present as distinctly as it appeared when we 
 witnessed it ; but this is always, we apprehend, either 
 figurative or erroneous language. It is a wise provision 
 that there should be a clear, distinguishable difference 
 between actual sensations and the remembrance of them, 
 either when asleep or awake ; for were it otherwise, it 
 would be impossible to distinguish betw^een real trans- 
 actions and the remembrance of them, and the boundaries 
 between truth and falsehood or fiction, would be thrown 
 
84 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 into uncertainty. Nor are we quite certain whether the 
 habit of lying, in some instances, may not have arisen 
 from a state of mind by which former sensations are 
 recalled with more than usual vividness, so that the 
 story-tellers have mistaken their dreams or waking 
 reveries for realities, and repeated them as if they were 
 so. We remember one of the most truthful persons 
 whom we ever knew describing in glowing terms the 
 sensations he experienced from taking a mustard- vomit 
 when he was a boy — the torture of it, as if it had been 
 liquid fire that was passing down his throat. His elder 
 brother, a man of equal probity, who was present, said 
 to him, “ You altogether forget, it was not you who took 
 the mustard- vomit, hut myself, and you heard me describe 
 the effects in those very words ; and they seem to have 
 made such an impression upon you that you have come 
 to imagine that it was you who experienced the sensa- 
 tion.” They were both convinced that no second 
 mustard- vomit had been administered, and the point was 
 settled by the younger brother being satisfied that it 
 must have been as the elder brother explained it. This, 
 although not exactly a case of remembered sensation, is 
 sufficiently near it to illustrate the supposition that men 
 may mistake remembrances or imaginations for realities. 
 
 There are, it would appear, affections of the brain in 
 which objects are recalled even in waking hours with 
 much of the distinctness of reality. We have read, in 
 the “ Percy Anecdotes,” (vol. xi., p. 3,) a narrative which 
 bears upon it the marks of truth, that will illustrate this 
 subject. M. Nicholai, a member of the Royal Society of 
 Berlin, presented the narrative to that institution. He 
 states that he had been under some great anxiety and 
 distress of mind for a considerable time. When he was 
 one day, in 1791, sitting in a room with his wife and 
 another person, he saw suddenly standing before him, at 
 the distance of about ten paces, a person whom he knew to 
 be dead. M. Nicholai was of course greatly agitated. 
 
MEMOET. 
 
 35 
 
 He pointed to the spectre, and asked his wife if she did 
 not see it. But she saw nothing. The figure, after 
 remaining seven or eight minutes, vanished. In the 
 afternoon it appeared again, when he was alone. He was 
 again greatly alarmed, and joined his family in another 
 room ; hut thither the figure pursued him, sometimes 
 present, sometimes vanishing. About two hours after this, 
 several other stalking figures appeared. Similar appear- 
 ances occurred again and again, sometimes of living and 
 sometimes of deceased persons, till he became familiar 
 with them, and able calmly to examine them. Sometimes 
 several persons would appear to him at the same time, 
 talking to him or to one another, in the presence of his 
 family, and he could converse with his family respecting 
 them, tell them who they were, and what they were 
 saying to him. He observes, that he could always dis- 
 tinguish these spectres from real persons present. They 
 would appear to open the door and enter the room, hut 
 he never mistook a real person entering the room for 
 one of these illusions. The distinction between these 
 appearances and realities, he observed, was, that the 
 colours of the former were less vivid and distinct than 
 those of the latter. The general course of their con- 
 versation to him was condoling with him on the cause of 
 his distress. At length he was so constantly haunted 
 with them, the whole space around him appearing to be 
 filled with them, even when he was walking in the street, 
 crowding upon him, and talking to him, that he resolved 
 upon having his head leeched. While this operation 
 was going on, the whole room seemed crowded with 
 these spectres of his imagination. But some hours 
 afterwards they appeared to move more slowly, their 
 appearance became more faint, they first lost all colour- 
 ing and became white ; then parts of them began to 
 disappear, leaving only imperfect parts of figures re- 
 maining, till the whole illusion, finally, was obliterated ; 
 and at the time w^hen he wrote the account of his case. 
 
36 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 which was a considerable time afterwards, he had had no j 
 return of it. 
 
 This narrative may help to explain many of the stories 
 of ghosts, second sight, &c., which are always most pre- ; 
 valent in an unsettled state of society, when the minds 
 of people are kept in constant excitement and dread ; 
 and the best-recorded instances of their appearance have 
 been under circumstances calculated to excite and agitate 
 the minds of those who are reported to have seen them. 
 
 The faintness of the colouring, also, and the disappear- ! 
 ance of all colour, and also the mutilated figures seen by 
 this gentleman as the disease was subsiding, may account 
 for apparitions being represented as always pale and 
 dressed in white, and also for the imperfect forms in 
 which they are reported to have appeared. Abercrombie 
 mentions a lady who, while recovering from a debilitating 
 fever, was visited daily by the spectre of a deceased | 
 friend. As she regained strength, the appearance became j 
 fainter and fainter, till it disappeared. Professor Alison j 
 mentioned in his lectures, that, after a fatiguing day, he 
 would see numbers of faces looking at him through the 
 curtains. These visions were not unpleasant. They 
 were never the faces of persons he knew. A farmer 
 mentioned to a friend that one of his shepherds, an old 
 man, used to see cattle going in rows at a distance from 
 him ; that, until he discovered the illusion, he had weary 
 walks through the fields to drive the supposed animals 
 out of the corn. 
 
 But what is most directly to our present purpose is, 
 that this case, as well as the phenomena of memory, 
 waking or sleeping, seems to indicate that remembered 
 sensations differ from real sensations chiefly in this, 
 that the remembrance of a sensation is sufficiently dis- 
 tinct to enable us to identify it as the reviving of the 
 original sensation, yet is never so strong or vivid as the 
 direct effect of the object of sense upon the sensory 
 organs. That the remembrance of sensations, however, 
 
MEMOEY. 
 
 37 
 
 may be exceedingly distinct and vivid is manifest from 
 this, that a painter can copy from them very exact 
 pictures, both in outline and colouring, of the original 
 object ; that a musician can perform pieces of music 
 from memory ; a cook and a perfumer can mix up 
 ingredients so as to reproduce savours and odours, with 
 much exactness, from the memory of sensations which 
 they have experienced. 
 
 Although sensations when recalled by memory are 
 less strong and vivid than they were originally, yet, 
 with that exception, they are recalled as they were ex- 
 perienced, both with their distinctive characters from 
 other sensations, and the pleasure or pain which origi- 
 nally belonged to them. Thus, if the sensation caused 
 by a bright light be accompanied with pain, in remem- 
 bering the bright light the pain will be remembered 
 also. A child on whom a painful operation has been 
 performed, instantly shrieks and weeps at the sight of 
 the surgeon who performed the operation, or at the 
 sight of his instrument, or at the sight of any person 
 who reminds him of the surgeon, or of any implement 
 that reminds him of his instrument. The whole opera- 
 tion is thus clearly in his mind, and he dreads the 
 repetition of it. A child that has taken a nauseous 
 medicine will sometimes be so vividly reminded of the 
 taste of it by seeing a second dose of it poured out for 
 him, as to have his stomach excited even to vomiting. 
 It has been supposed that in such cases the effect is 
 produced chiefly by the hope or the dread of a repetition 
 of the sensation. But although, doubtless, that element 
 will render the remembrance more vivid, chiefly by 
 fixing the attention more intently and permanently 
 upon it ; yet we are satisfied that the prospect of the 
 repetition of the sensation is not the only, nor even the 
 chief cause of the effect sometimes produced by the 
 remembrance of sensations. We have known persons, 
 after having been sick at sea and on shore themselves, 
 
38 
 
 MEMOEY. 
 
 have this squeamishness and nausea revived bj merely 
 seeing a vessel rolling and pitching in a heavy sea, and 
 even by looking at the motion of the waves. We know 
 a person who cannot read, or hear, of others ascending 
 great heights, as the masts of ships, or precipices, or 
 lofty mountains, without having his nervous system so 
 painfully excited, as sometimes to cover him with per- 
 spiration. On the other hand, how often does the mere 
 sight of an instrument of music used in dancing excite 
 gaiety and merriment, even in persons whose dancing 
 days are over ; and how often does the mere sight, or 
 smell, or the remembrance of any kind of savoury food, 
 excite the nerves of the palate, so as to fill the mouth 
 with saliva. These, and numberless similar phenomena, 
 indicate that when past sensations are recalled or sug- 
 gested, the pleasure or the pain which they originally 
 excited is strongly revived in the remembrance of them. 
 
 Still farther, sensations may be recalled not only by 
 the actual repetition of similar sensations, but one re- 
 membrance of a sensation may recal another, and that 
 a third, and so on in endless succession. The first one 
 or two notes of a tune heard or remembered may recal 
 one after another all the following notes of the tune, in 
 the succession in which they were originally heard. 
 That tune remembered may recal other tunes, or it may 
 recal some sensation, some sight or feeling, that accom- 
 panied it when it was first heard ; and any of these 
 remembered sensations may recal others in infinite 
 variety, and with wonderful rapidity. 
 
 There seem to be considerable diversities in different 
 minds relative to their aptitude for recalling sensations. 
 Some minds seem more readily to have the sensations 
 of one sense recalled, and other minds the sensations of 
 another sense. One has more facility for remembering 
 tacts, another smells, another sounds, and another 
 sights. This may arise frona the minds or the organs of 
 sense being so varied in their constitution or condition, 
 
MEMORY. 
 
 39 
 
 that one mind receives more pleasure or suffers more 
 pain from one class of sensations, and another mind 
 from another class. Whether this diversity is caused, or, 
 at least, indicated by differences in the formation of the 
 brain, as phrenologists believe, is perhaps not yet deter- 
 mined on either side by physiologists. If there be good 
 foundation for the phrenological theory, here may be the 
 germ of it. But whatever may be the cause of this 
 diversity of constitution, or condition, of different minds, 
 there can be no doubt of its existence ; and here we may 
 have the embryo of the gourmand, the perfumer, the 
 musician, the painter, and the statuary. 
 
 There is another diversity regarding the recalling or 
 remembering of past sensations in different minds, which 
 produces important effects on the character and happi- 
 ness of different individuals, namely, that in some 
 minds pleasant sensations are most easily and frequently 
 recalled, and in others painful sensations. In some 
 persons not only will pleasant sensations easily recal 
 pleasant sensations, but even painful sensations will 
 recal pleasant sensations ; while in others, not only will 
 painful sensations recal former painful sensations, but 
 even pleasant sensations will recal painful ones. The 
 former of these states of mind naturally produces habitual 
 cheerfulness, the latter habitual melancholy. Whether 
 this diversity originates in the structure of the brain, 
 we must again leave to the investigation of physiologists. 
 It cannot, however, we believe be denied, that the one 
 or the other of these characters of mind is much influ- 
 enced, if not produced, by the general state of the body 
 in regard to health or sickness, by education, by society, 
 by occupations, by habit, and other similar causes. 
 
 But, leaving these way-side observations, we proceed 
 to remark further, that the more frequently any two or 
 more sensations, or remembered sensations, occupy the 
 mind in immediate succession, the more certainly and 
 the more instantaneously will the one recal the other, 
 
40 
 
 MEMOET. 
 
 especially the first recal the second and following. Of 
 this we have a familiar example in learning a tune. 
 On first hearing it, we may be able to repeat scarcely 
 two successive sounds of it ; but after hearing it, and 
 attending to it repeatedly, the hearing of the first two 
 or three sounds of it will recal all the others in regular 
 succession ; and so rapid and so certain may the sugges- 
 tions become, that every sound will present itself as 
 promptly as the most expert musician can express it by 
 his voice, or by any instrument of which he may have 
 made himself master. And so indelibly may the train 
 of suggestions be fixed in the mind, that from childhood 
 till the close of a long life may a few successive sounds 
 of the tune recal the whole. In this phenomenon we 
 have the germ of the facility acquired by habit in all 
 operations, whether more apparently mental, or whether 
 they be what are usually called — but, we believe, most 
 erroneously called — mechanical. 
 
 It is a most important fact in regard to this faculty 
 of memory, that the will has no control over it. The 
 mind cannot by any effort deprive itself of its aptitude 
 for remembering its sensations. It cannot change or 
 modify any sensation, or succession of sensations, in re- 
 membering it. Such as it was originally, but more faintly, 
 it will, if recalled by any of the laws of suggestion, recur 
 to it again. It cannot forget any sensation, that is, it 
 cannot deprive itself of its aptitude for having any sen- 
 sation recalled by the operation of the laws of suggestion. 
 It is as passive in this respect as a daguerreotype plate 
 is in receiving and retaining the images of the objects 
 that are placed before it. Situated as we have supposed 
 it to be, without power to move any muscle of the body, 
 both its original sensations and its suggestions would take 
 place, without any choice or any control over them. It 
 is true, as we have seen, the suggestions would be regu- 
 lated by the degree of attention paid to the original 
 sensation. But we have also seen that that degree of 
 
MEMORY. 
 
 41 
 
 attention itself would be regulated from without, and 
 not from within the mind. Attention to any sensation 
 would be excited by its own qualities or concomitants, 
 as its intensity or novelty, or any circumstance exciting 
 desire for the continuance or repetition of it ; or even 
 any circumstance exciting a desire to avoid the remem- 
 brance of it. For so entirely passive is the mind with 
 regard to its remembrances, that the very desire to for- 
 get any sensation would have the effect of recalling it. 
 
 Another important fact relative to sensations and sug- 
 gestions, or remembrances of them, is that, so far as we 
 have proceeded in our investigation of facts, we have 
 found nothing that could give rise to the notion of 
 cause and effect in the mind. It has yet no conception 
 of external objects causing sensations, and therefore 
 could never derive any notion of cause and effect from 
 that source. The only real cause and effect with which 
 it is acquainted is an original sensation being the cause, 
 in a certain sense, of the remembrance of it, since with- 
 out the original sensation there could be no recal of it. 
 But the remembrance is not called up by the original 
 sensation, which is past and gone for ever, but by other 
 sensations, and other suggestions, which other sug- 
 gestions do not always recal the same remembrance, but 
 any one out of a multitude ; so that the fact of sensations 
 or suggestions being followed by various remembrances, 
 would convey to it no notion but of an uncertain suc- 
 cession. Or if the succession were more constant, as in 
 our supposition of the sound of a drum regularly heard 
 before daybreak, or the sound of a bell before nightfall, 
 it never could infer from the succession that the sound 
 of the drum was the cause of day, or the sound of the 
 bell the cause of night. Or, although the sensation of 
 light and heat should be continually experienced to- 
 gether, or immediately following one another, the mind, 
 so far as we have examined it, could never connect 
 them as cause and effect. To suppose that it should by 
 
42 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 intuition determine things to stand related to one anothei? 
 as cause and effect which are not so related, is gratui- 
 tously to suppose a system of falsehood and delusion to 
 be interwoven in our very nature ; than which nothing 
 can be more revolting, as well to common sense, as to 
 the only really philosophical account of the origin of our 
 being. We conclude, therefore, that the notion of cause 
 and effect could never be obtained by mere sensation 
 under any possible modification of it.* 
 
 Yet it seems to be an original law of our nature — an 
 instinct or propensity interwoven with our mental con- 
 stitution — that the mind expects like consequents to 
 follow like antecedents. An infant that has but once 
 sucked the breast may be observed to turn its head into 
 the position in which it enjoyed that pleasant sensation, 
 and to form its lips into a round aperture, as when they 
 enclosed the nipple, evidently expecting that the same 
 posture would be followed by the same enjoyment, or, 
 more generally, that the same antecedents would be fol- 
 lowed by the same consequents; and it may be observed 
 to express its disappointment, by signs of displeasure, 
 when the expected result of its feeble exertions does 
 not follow. It then discovers that something more is 
 necessary to obtain the gratification than the position of 
 
 * It has been asserted that every change necessarily implies a cause, 
 so that we cannot even conceive of a change without a cause. The 
 first part of the proposition we are not disposed to dispute, that every 
 change must have a cause, at least when applied to created beings. 
 But in regard to our necessarily inferring from every change that it 
 must have a cause, we apprehend that such inference is derived from 
 experience. Every change in material objects is produced by some 
 cause, mental or material; every change in our own mind we can trace 
 to some cause, and our constantly witnessing changes produced by 
 causes begets a persuasion, which we cannot shake, that every change 
 must have its cause. But in a mind circumstanced as we have sup- 
 posed, destitute of the means of forming the conception of any object 
 external to itself, any change within itself could be referred only to 
 some cause within itself; and all changes within itself being alike in- 
 voluntary, it possessing no power over them, we cannot imagine to 
 what internal cause it could ascribe the changes of which it was 
 conscious, or how it could obtain the notion of cause from them. 
 
MEMOKY. 
 
 43 
 
 the head and lips. That something else is supplied by 
 the nipple being put into its mouth. If on another 
 similar occasion the finger be put into the mouth, it will 
 appear satisfied for a moment, and begin to suck it ; 
 but soon finding that it gets no milk, it again shows 
 signs of disappointment, till after several trials it ceases 
 to expect milk from the finger ; and if it be intent on 
 getting its natural food, it rejects it at once. Now here 
 is a history antecedent to all experience, of that in- 
 stinct or innate propensity that accompanies us through 
 life, and by which much of our life is regulated, first 
 confidently to expect the same consequents to follow the 
 same antecedents, and afterwards gradually to disen- 
 tangle by experience the necessary antecedent from un- 
 necessary concomitants, and to distinguish the true 
 antecedent from resemblances to it. A more advanced 
 child makes a noise by striking a spoon on the table. 
 He afterwards strikes it on a cushion, expecting to pro- 
 duce the same sound, but is disappointed. He tries it 
 on the table again, and succeeds ; and thus one error is 
 corrected, and one part of the true antecedent is disco- 
 vered; but his expectation that the same result will 
 follow if he keep by the same means of obtaining it, 
 is never for a moment weakened. A man makes a pump, 
 and succeeds in drawing up water by it. He makes 
 another, and fails. He immediately infers that there 
 must be some difference between the second pump and 
 the first, and sets himself to discover it, never doubting 
 that if he made the second exactly like the first, and put 
 it in the same circumstances, the same effect will be pro- 
 duced by it. This is an instinct, or intuitive propensity, 
 in perfect accordance with the truth, which can never lead 
 us into error, but which conducts us with absolute cer- 
 tainty, so far as we follow it up, to a true knowledge 
 of all the objects to which we have access. It is common 
 to us and to all the inferior animals, so far as their 
 instincts have been observed: it is the great general 
 
44 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 principle on which our lives are regulated ; it is the guide 
 to all discoveries, and the germ of all true philosophy. 
 
 Memory necessarily implies the power of observing 
 similarities and diversities in our sensations. There 
 could he no such laws of suggestion as we have described, 
 if all sensations appeared alike when suggested. It can 
 only he by observing wherein succeeding sensations are 
 similar to one another, or wherein they differ, that the 
 mind can recognise them as repetitions of the same sen- 
 sation, or discover them to be new sensations. If, in 
 remembering sensations, the mind could not distinguish 
 a sight from a sound, or one sight from another, or one 
 sound from another, there could be no suggestion. 
 
 This observation leads us to not^'ce another power of 
 the mind, namely, the power of observing similarities 
 and differences in its successive sensations, either origh 
 nal or suggested, or another phenomenon of the mind, 
 that it in fact does notice resemblances and differences 
 in its successive sensations or remembrances of sensa- 
 tions. This power of the mind may be called discern- 
 ment or discrimination ; or, as it is called by some 
 writers, judgment. It can scarcely be regarded as a 
 distinct power from memory, for the comparing of suc- 
 cessive sensations implies memory ; for, as we have seen, 
 there could be no memory without it : yet, as a peculiar 
 element in memory, it will require a separate consi- 
 deration. 
 
JUDGMENT, AS DEPENDENT ON SENSATION. 45 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DISCERNMENT, DISCRIMINATION, OR JUDGMENT, AS 
 DEPENDENT ON SENSATION. 
 
 The power designated by any one of these three names 
 is, we have said, the power of discerning or judging of 
 the resemblances or differences between an original 
 sensation and a suggested one ; or between two or more 
 suggested sensations. For we apprehend there can be 
 no comparison between two strictly contemporaneous 
 sensations. To compare, the attention must be directed 
 to both, and it can be directed to only one at a time ; 
 that is, it must compare by examining them alternately. 
 The alternation may be exceedingly rapid, still it must 
 alternate. When any one endeavours accurately to dis* 
 cern the difference between two sounds, as when he 
 tunes a musical instrument, or between colours, as 
 when he is endeavouring to match any colour, his atten- 
 tion is not directed to both of the sounds or of the 
 colours at the same moment, but is continually passing 
 from the one to the other, comparing the actual or 
 original sensation of the one, with the suggested or 
 remembered sensation of the other. 
 
 We use the words resemblances, or similarities, and 
 differences, with the utmost latitude that the words will 
 bear : similarities and differences in colour, smell, 
 taste, sound, form, position, quantity, duration, number, 
 and innumerable others. The nature and varieties of 
 resemblances and differences which a mind situated as 
 we have supposed would be capable of discerning, would 
 be such as the following. 
 
 It might not at once, but would, perhaps, taught by 
 experience,* distinguish sensations affecting it through 
 the different organs of sense, sounds from sights, and 
 
 See note C. Appendix. 
 
46 JUDGMENT, AS DEPENDENT ON SENSATION. 
 
 both from feelings, or tastes, or smells. We are not 
 sure that it would mark the distinction at once. The 
 commonly reported case, indeed, of a blind man com- 
 paring red colours to the sound of a trumpet, was 
 obviously derived from his connecting in his mind 
 soldiers with red colour, having been told that their dress 
 was red ; and with the sound of a trumpet, that being a 
 soldier’s instrument. Had he been a Frenchman, he 
 would probably have compared a blue colour to it, or if an 
 Austrian, white. We remember a case more in point. 
 A little boy was taken to a place of worship where the 
 congregation joined with a loud voice in the psalmody. 
 When they began to sing, he instantly turned his eyes 
 to the door of the church, and when asked why he did 
 so, replied that he thought it was a great A coming in 
 at the door. He had been taught the sound of the 
 letter A, which seemed to him to resemble the sound 
 made in singing, and the loudness of it he mistook for 
 the largeness of the letter. Here was a manifest con- 
 founding of a sensation of hearing with a sensation of 
 sight. 
 
 Again, the mind would discriminate between many 
 different sensations of the same organ — different sounds, 
 shrill and deep, harsh and pleasing, loud and gentle ; 
 between different sights, light and darkness, various 
 degrees of light, different colours, the diversities occa- 
 sioned by different figures presented to the eye, or the 
 same figure at different distances and in different posi- 
 tions ; points, lines, straight or crooked, circles, ellipses, 
 squares, triangles ; different sensations of touch, hot, 
 cold, hard, soft, light, heavy ; feelings occasioned by 
 rough or smooth bodies passed over the skin, sharp or 
 blunt instruments applied to it. We question whether 
 it would be able to distinguish sensation occasioned by 
 the prick of a sharp point from that occasioned by a 
 drop of scalding water^ or the touch of fire or of caustic. 
 It would also distinguish different tastes, — sour, sweet. 
 
JUDGMENT, AS DEPENDENT ON SENSATION. 47 
 
 bitter, nauseous, pleasant ; and different smells, — fetid 
 or fragrant, pungent or bland. It is to be remembered, 
 however, that in its present supposed condition it could 
 form no conception of the external causes of its sensa- 
 tions. It would be occupied solely with the sensations 
 themselves, as in the mind itself, or rather as itself 
 variously affected by them. 
 
 Still further, it would discern long-continued, from 
 momentary, sensations; sensations of the same kind 
 repeated several times, as the ringing of a bell; or 
 different sensations regularly alternating with one ano- 
 ther, as night and day. It would thus be able to discern, 
 at least to some extent, differences and resemblances in 
 regard to number and length of duration. The diver- 
 sities of its visual sensations would probably enable it to 
 discern differences and resemblances in regard to length 
 and shortness of lines, between short and long, broad 
 and narrow surfaces. 
 
 We have mentioned these differences and resemblances 
 between successive sensations, original or suggested, 
 which a mind situated according to our present hypothesis 
 would be able to discern, not as an enumeration, but 
 merely as specimens of them. 
 
 This discernment of differences and resemblances 
 between different sensations, either original or remem- 
 bered, affords a pleasure peculiar to itself, and altogether 
 different from the pleasure that may enter as an element 
 into any particular sensation. Different minds seem to 
 be differently constituted in this respect. Some minds 
 attend most to the pleasure that forms an element in 
 the original sensation, and are most gratified with this; 
 and some are most gratified with the pleasure that is 
 derived from comparing a sensation with other sensations, 
 land marking their differences or resemblances, and attend 
 most to these. Different minds also seem to have a 
 natural aptitude for observing different classes of resem- 
 blances or differences; some have most pleasure in 
 
48 JUDGMENT, AS DEPENDENT ON SENSATION. 
 
 discerning differences and similarities of sounds; some of 
 colours ; some of tastes and smells ; and some of feelings. 
 Whether the phrenological theory comes again into play 
 in creating or influencing these different capacities of 
 different minds, in regard to the nature of the pleasure 
 which they enjoy from their sensations, we feel ourselves 
 incompetent to form an opinion, and must again leave 
 the subject in the hands of physiologists. It is obvious, 
 however, whatever may he the cause of these different 
 capacities of different minds for enjoyment, and conse- 
 quently their different tendencies, they may be the 
 embryo of those diversities of pursuit^ and occupation 
 which distinguish different individuals. We shall pro- 
 bably have occasion to return to this subject. 
 
 In the pleasure or pain which enter as elements into 
 our sensations, and also in the pleasure that we derive 
 from discriminating between them, and marking their 
 resemblances and differences, we have the basis of all 
 the emotions or passions, or, as they are sometimes 
 called, the active powers of the mind. In the power 
 itself of discriminating or judging of the resemblances 
 and differences among our sensations, we have the germ 
 of all its intellectual faculties or exercises. This obser- 
 vation will come more prominently forward as we proceed 
 with our demonstration. 
 
 Meanwhile, we have to extend an observation formerly 
 made in regard to original sensations — to the remem- 
 brance of sensations ; namely, that the pain or pleasure 
 occasioned by any sensation, not only loses much of its 
 intensity when recalled by the exercise of memory, but 
 that the pain or pleasure attending it abates on every 
 repetition of the remembrance of it. Sensations, the 
 first remembrance of which filled us with delight, or 
 overpowered us with agony, gradually lose their effect of 
 moving us. The most heart-rending and best-performed 
 tragedies, which were, on first seeing them performed, 
 quite overpowering, lose that power on being frequently 
 
JUDGMENT, AS DEPENDENT ON SENSATION. 49 
 
 seen ; so that we are disposed to laugh at the tears of 
 those who witness them for the first time. The most 
 ludicrous comic exhibitions also cease to excite laughter 
 when they are frequently witnessed. Hence, also, the 
 disgust that we feel at hearing often-repeated jokes or 
 witticisms ; they become stale, to use an expressive 
 epithet usually applied to them. 
 
 But while the mind thus gradually becomes indifferent 
 to the pleasure or pain, which it derived from sensations 
 on first experiencing them, by the repetition of them, or 
 the repetition of the remembrance of them, every repe- 
 tition of them makes the mind more perfectly acquainted 
 with them, and the more accurate and prompt in dis- 
 cerning their , differences or their resemblances. A 
 tuner of musical instruments loses the pleasure which 
 he originally received from musical sounds, hut his ear 
 becomes more acute in discriminating between them. 
 So a perfumer and a cook, with respect to smells and 
 tastes, and a painter or dyer, with respect to colours, 
 loses the pleasure which the sensations with which he is 
 most conversant originally yielded to him; hut he becomes 
 the more adroit in discerning their similarities and 
 differences. 
 
 The pleasure which we have said accompanies the 
 discernment of resemblances or differences among our 
 sensations, follows the general law of pleasure or pain, 
 and on repetition sinks into indifference. But it has in 
 itself the means of longer duration than the pleasure or 
 pain which formed elements in the original sensations, 
 or in the remembrance of them. The discernment of 
 those relations of difference or resemblance becoming 
 more accurate by repetition, and every new resemblance 
 or difference affording new pleasure, a provision is thus 
 made for the constant renewal of this description of 
 pleasure ; while there is no such provision for the re- 
 newal of the pleasure derived from sensations irrespective 
 of their relations to one another. 
 
50 JUDGMENT, AS DEPENDENT ON SENSATION. 
 
 Thus the two elements of sensations, and the remem- 
 brances of them, namely, the pleasure or pain of them, 
 and the power of discerning their differences or resem- 
 blances, diverge on the prolongation or repetition of them, 
 and follow two opposite courses. The pleasure or pain 
 subsides and sinks into indifference, but the discern- 
 ment of their relations becomes more acute and perfect ; 
 and although the pleasure derived from discerning the : 
 resemblances or differences of sensations also sinks into i 
 indifference, yet the discernment becoming more exact ] 
 by repetition, every repetition may cause a new pleasure j 
 
 by disclosing some new resemblance or difference ; and j 
 
 this increase of the power and exercise of discrimination j 
 
 seems to have no limit. For the sensation, or revival \ 
 
 of a sensation, being often repeated, and necessarily j 
 repeated in various connections and sequences, is brought ; 
 into comparison with a never-ending variety of other ; 
 sensations ; and its resemblances to all of them or differ- 
 ences from them discovered, there seem to be no bounds 
 to the accuracy and extent of discrimination, and conse- 
 quently to the pleasure derived from the exercise of it. 
 
 It will be readily anticipated by an attentive and 
 intelligent reader, that these phenomena respecting the 
 pleasure or pain forming elements of sensations — its | 
 
 passing away on repetition, also the fading of the pleasure ' 
 derived from discerning any resemblances or differences 
 between sensations, together with the unlimited power 
 of the mind to discover these relations — are phenomena 
 of the utmost importance in the human constitution. 
 
 We have already hinted that the pleasure or pain con- 
 nected with sensations, or with discernments of differ- 
 ences or resemblances between sensations, lies at the 
 foundation of all the emotions or passions ; while the ; 
 power of discerning resemblances or differences among 
 our sensations, and the pleasure which such discern- ; 
 ments afford, is the basis of our intellectual powers and 
 exercises, and the delight which they yield to us. 
 
JUDGMENT, AS DEPENDENT ON SENSATION. 51 
 
 The gradual abating of the pleasure derived from any 
 sensation, or from the discovery of any resemblances or 
 differences between sensations, lies at the foundation of 
 the great principle of curiosity or love of novelty, which 
 performs so important a part in the history of our 
 species. 
 
 The unlimited power of the mind to discern resem- 
 blances and differences, and the pleasure attached to 
 every such new discernment, explains also the superiority 
 of intellectual to sensual pursuits. The man who seeks 
 his enjoyments in the original pleasure of sensation is 
 soon sated. Every such pleasure fades on repetition, 
 and his variety is very limited. His enjoyments soon 
 become nothing better than the momentary allaying of 
 pain, which he has brought on himself by sensual indul- 
 gence ; whereas intellectual enjoyments possess an inex- 
 haustible fountain of pleasures in the endless variety of 
 objects around us, each affecting the organs of sense in 
 a manner peculiar to itself, and different from all other 
 objects. This principle will be more fully developed in 
 the sequel. 
 
 We are now brought up to a division of the powers, 
 or rather phenomena, of the mind which must influence 
 the whole of our future investigations, namely, the 
 emotions or passions founded on the pleasure or pain 
 which enter as elements into our sensations, or which 
 are derived from the exercise of discrimination or judg- 
 ment on the one hand, and the intellectual processes 
 which are founded on the power of discerning resem- 
 blances and differences in our sensations on the other. 
 This division corresponds pretty nearly to the division 
 into the active and intellectual powers of some meta- 
 physicians. After some hesitation we assign the pre- 
 cedence to emotions, as springing most directly from our 
 sensations themselves, and not from their relations to 
 one another. 
 
52 
 
 EMOTIONS DERIVED FROM SENSATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 EMOTIONS DERIVED FROM SENSATIONS. 
 
 We Still suppose the mind to be lodged in an immove- 
 able tenement — a body with organs of sense open to 
 the influence of external objects, but totally destitute 
 of power over the body — and proceed to consider of 
 what emotions or passions it would be capable in such 
 circumstances. 
 
 The mind after experiencing a pleasant sensation 
 would naturally desire or wish for the repetition of it ; 
 arid after a painful sensation, it would as certainly expe- 
 rience dislike or aversion ; and the desire in the one 
 case, and the dislike in the other, would be pro- 
 portioned to the intensity of the pleasure or the pain. 
 Here we have the germ of the emotions of desire and 
 
 AVERSION. 
 
 If the pleasant sensation were experienced more than 
 once, after a series of sensations more or less numerous, 
 then the entering on the series, which had repeatedly 
 ended in a pleasant sensation, would excite ho;pe or 
 expectation, more or less confident in proportion to its 
 familiarity of the series of sensations that preceded it, 
 and more or less ardent in proportion to the intensity of 
 the expected pleasure. This expectation or hope would 
 be excited by the innate propensity, which we have found 
 to be a part of our nature, to expect similar consequents 
 from similar antecedents. If, on the other hand, a 
 painful sensation had more than once followed the same 
 series of sensations, then through the operations of the 
 same innate propensity, the commencement of the series 
 would excite fear or terror, proportioned partly to the 
 number of times that the series ending in pain had 
 been experienced, and partly to the intensity of the pain 
 with which the series had ended. On every repetition 
 
EMOTIONS DERIVED FROM SENSATIONS. 
 
 53 
 
 of a series of sensations ending in pain or pleasure, the 
 expectation of the result would become more confident, 
 hut the intensity of the hope or the dread would become 
 more faint, in consequence of the tendency of any plea- 
 sure or pain towards indifference on repetition. Here 
 we have the emotion, hope, and a more advanced state 
 of the emotion, fear. 
 
 If a series of sensations which had on former occasions 
 ended in a pleasant sensation, should pass away without 
 the accustomed pleasant sensation, the effect would 
 necessarily be disappointment or sorrow ; and if a series 
 of sensations, which had on former occasions ended in a 
 painful sensation, should pass away without the accus- 
 tomed pain, the effect would be joy. If instead of the 
 expected pleasant sensation, a painful one should close 
 the series ; or if instead of the dreaded painful sensation 
 the series should close with a pleasant one, then the 
 sorrow and the joy respectively would be heightened 
 by surprise. If the series which was expected to end in 
 a pleasant or painful sensation were broken off before it 
 came to its usual conclusion, the result would be similar, 
 disappointment or gratulation. If either of such series 
 had been often repeated, so that the suggestion and 
 expectation of the result had become prompt and con- 
 fident, then the sorrow in the one case, and the joy in 
 the other, would be accompanied with perplexity. 
 
 If a series of painful sensations should on several 
 occasions end in a pleasant sensation, then the suggestion 
 and expectation excited towards the commencement of 
 the series would diminish the pain of the preceding part 
 of the series. Hope would mitigate, perhaps triumph 
 over, pain, by entirely reconciling the mind to it. 
 Whereas, if a series of pleasant sensations were con- 
 nected in the mind with a very painful sensation coming 
 at the conclusion of it, the approach of the dreaded 
 painful sensation would poison the pleasure of the pre- 
 ceding series, and cause the entering on the series to be 
 
54 
 
 EMOTIONS DEKIVED FROM SENSATIONS. 
 
 regarded with horror. F ear would thus temper, perhaps 
 overcome, enjoyment. 
 
 When any sensation is experienced for the first time, 
 if it be a pleasant sensation, the effect is admiration. 
 The effect of mere novelty in a sensation is wonder, 
 amazement, astonishment, the intensity of which is pro- 
 portioned to the degree of novelty ; that is, to the extent 
 to which it differs from all former sensations. Suppose 
 that the eyes of any child were kept closed, as by dis- 
 ease, till it had become familiar with the sensations 
 derived from the other senses ; and then opened, — the 
 effect would be wonder, amazement, astonishment, all of 
 which words signify different degrees and modifications 
 of the effect of novelty on the mind. If the new sensa- 
 tion were a pleasant one, it would excite admiration 
 proportioned to the pleasure experienced from it, even 
 to ecstasy. If the sensation were a painful one, it would 
 piroduce an effect for which we remember no name in 
 the English language more exact than wonder, or amaze- 
 ment, or astonishment. We might probably express it 
 by such a circumlocution as mingled pain or horror, and 
 astonishment. 
 
 If any mind were so constituted, or so affected by any 
 cause (which it might be by bodily disease), as to have 
 painful sensations most readily and frequently suggested, 
 the effect would be MELANCHOLY, or prolonged sadness, 
 proportioned in intensity to the painfulness of the sug- 
 gested sensations and the frequency of their recur- 
 rence. If, on the contrary, a mind were so constituted 
 or so affected, that pleasant sensations were most 
 readily and frequently suggested, the effect would be 
 
 CHEERFULNESS. 
 
 We have yet found no emotion that depends on the 
 knowledge of any being external to the mind, or other 
 than the mind itself, such as love or hatred, anger or 
 gratitude. These emotions belong to a higher state of 
 existence than that which we are now contemplating. 
 
EMOTIONS DEEIVED FEOM SENSATIONS. 
 
 55 
 
 Nor have we found any emotion that implies will. 
 By the will we understand the power of the mind to 
 choose or select the power to do, or to leave undone — to 
 accept or to reject. Some, by the will, understand our 
 emotions as distinguished from our intellectual opera- 
 tions, the emotions being sometimes called the powers 
 of the will. But we regard this as a mere abuse of 
 language, for the purpose of supporting a hypothesis. 
 The power of the will is the mind’s power to accept or 
 reject — to do or not to do. When there is no such 
 power, there can be no act of the will. Now we have 
 no direct power over the feelings or operations of the 
 mind. We cannot by an act of will create a sensation, 
 nor recal a past sensation, nor alter the pain or the 
 pleasure of any sensation. 'We cannot love or hate 
 what or whom we choose. We cannot be angry by an 
 act of will, nor bid away our anger. We may sv/allow 
 wormwood, but we cannot, by an act of will, love it. We 
 may abstain from doing that which anger or hatred 
 would prompt us to do, but we cannot bid these emotions 
 away by the fiat of our will. We may obtain much 
 influence in regulating our sensations and remem- 
 brances, but that is always by the influence which the 
 mind possesses over the body, and not by any direct 
 power over the mind itself. The will is distinguished 
 from desire by the consciousness of power to do, or to 
 obtain what is desired. I desire to get hold of an object 
 within my reach ; but if I be conscious that I have 
 lost the power of my arm, I cannot will it. Astronomers 
 desire to know more of the moon than we do, as they 
 indicate by availing themselves of instruments to enable 
 them to see it more distinctly. But no one can be 
 said to will to know more of the moon than his present 
 opportunities enable him to know. Now, regarding this 
 as the distinction between will and desire, we say that 
 although we have found in a mind destitute (according to 
 our hypothesis) of power to produce motion of any kind, 
 
56 
 
 EMOTIONS DERIVED FROM SENSATIONS. 
 
 room for desire, we can find none for volition, or for any 
 emotion that implies volition, such, for example, as 
 patience or impatience. Such emotions also belong to a 
 higher state of existence. 
 
 The mind, it is true, would naturally prefer sensations 
 and remembrances that were pleasant to those that were 
 unpleasant. But, as in its supposed condition it could 
 have no power to procure the repetition of pleasant sen- 
 sations, so it could have none to prolong them, nor to 
 call up the remembrance of them. To suppose it could 
 recal a sensation at will involves an absurdity ; for it 
 supposes it to be previously present, in order to will its 
 recal. The revival or recal of sensation ; we have seen, 
 is regulated by the laws of suggestion, one sensation or 
 remembrance of a sensation calling up the remembrance 
 of another. 
 
 We have seen, however, that the current of remem- 
 brances would be regulated partly by the state of the 
 mind itself, that the suggestions of one mind would 
 follow one course, and of another mind another course. 
 Any high enjoyment or great pain connected with a sen- 
 sation, would have the effect of suggesting it. Desire, 
 also, connected with a sensation, fixes the attention 
 upon it to the exclusion of others ; so that although the 
 mind would have no direct choice in determining its 
 suggestions, yet its predilection for one class of sensa- 
 tions above others, and its desire of that class, would 
 tend to the more frequent remembrance of it, and would 
 fix the attention upon it as often as it was experienced 
 or recalled. Those qualities, therefore, of sensations 
 which we have noticed as fitted to attract attention, 
 and to excite desire for them, would have much in- 
 fluence upon the train of suggestions, and consequently 
 upon the whole character of the mind. And, as we 
 have seen that some minds, from their original constitu- 
 tion, or from the state of the body with which they are 
 connected, are more attracted by one class of sensations 
 
INTELLECTUAL POWERS. 
 
 57 
 
 or remembrances than another — some more attracted by 
 the pleasures of sensation, and some by the pleasures of 
 observing the resemblances and differences among sen- 
 sations — there might be room in different minds, circum- 
 stanced as we have supposed, for great variety of 
 character. The thoughts of one might run more on 
 sensual pleasures or pains ; of another more on intel- 
 lectual enjoyments. Of the sensualists, one might give 
 more attention to sounds, another to sights, another to 
 tastes, another to smells, another to feelings ; while of 
 the more intellectual minds, one might be more attracted 
 by the differences and resemblances of visual sensations, 
 another of sensations of hearing ; and another, feelings, 
 and so of the other sensations ; another to differences of 
 form ; another to differences of number ; another to 
 differences of prolongation, or of time. But although 
 these differences may originate in the state of the mind, 
 they obviously are not under the power of the will. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL POWERS, OR PHENOMENA DEPENDENT 
 ON SENSATION. 
 
 We have regarded the faculty, or power, or phenomenon 
 of sensation as forming the basis of all mental phe- 
 nomena, and therefore having a common connection 
 with all. 
 
 We have regarded memory also as being the recalling 
 or reviving of sensations, with certain modifications, 
 according to certain laws, called laws of suggestion ; 
 also as bearing a common relation to all mental phe- 
 nomena. 
 
 To these we have added attention, regarding it not 
 properly as a distinct faculty from sensation and memory, 
 but as a limit set to the mind’s powers of sensation and 
 
68 
 
 INTELLECTUAL POWERS. 
 
 memory, rendering it incapable of noticing more than 
 one sensation, or recalled sensation, at the same instant ; 
 and so also with regard at least to those sensations, or 
 remembrances of sensations, of which it is conscious, 
 confining them to a single train of successive sensations 
 or remembrances. 
 
 We have, further, regarded sensations and revivals of 
 past sensations by memory, as consisting of two elements, 
 or at least as capable of being contemplated in two points 
 of view ; namely, 1st, as being pleasant or painful : 
 and, 2nd, as differing from or resembling one another. 
 And we have regarded the element of pleasure or pain 
 in sensations as the foundation of those powers or phe- 
 nomena of the mind called emotions or passions ; and 
 the resemblances and differences among sensations, 
 original or recalled, as the basis of the intellectual 
 powers or phenomena of the mind; and the power of 
 the mind to discern these resemblances or differences 
 we have regarded as an element both of sensation and 
 memory, and therefore as holding the same common 
 relation to all mental phenomena with sensation and 
 memory. Although, therefore, the act of the mind in 
 observing the resemblances or differences of sensations, 
 original or remembered, has in it more of the nature of 
 intellect than of emotion, just as the experiencing of 
 the pain or pleasure of sensations, original or remem- 
 bered, has in it more of the nature of emotion than of 
 intellect; nay, though' the one may be regarded as a 
 pure exercise of intellect, and the other as a pure 
 emotion, yet, having regarded both of these classes of 
 phenomena as elements of sensation and memory, we 
 have treated them under these heads. We shall not, 
 therefore, repeat what we have advanced respecting 
 judgment, or discrimination, or discernment, under the 
 heads of sensation and memory ; nor add anything to 
 it, but proceed to the consideration of other intellectual 
 operations connected with sensation. 
 
INTELLECTUAL POWEES. 
 
 59 
 
 Would a human mind, circumstanced according to 
 our hypothesis, make any progress in classing its sensa- 
 tions ? We see no reason to doubt that it would. It 
 might learn to class them according to the organs of 
 sense through which it received them. It is probable, 
 we conceive, that the accurate distinguishing of sounds 
 from sights, or smells, or tastes, or feelings, and all of 
 these from one another, would not be effected at once ; 
 but we conceive it might be learned by frequent ob- 
 servation. 
 
 Or it might adopt another classification, and, disre- 
 garding the organs of sense, arrange them as being 
 pleasant, or painful, or indifferent, or by the nature and 
 intensity of the pleasure or pain involved in them. That 
 a mind conversant only with sensations might class them 
 according to the pleasure or pain involved in them, 
 irrespective of the particular organ through which the 
 sensations are conveyed to it, seems probable from the 
 facility with which we apply epithets to sensations of one 
 sense properly applicable to sensations of other senses. 
 Thus, we speak familiarly, and are clearly understood, 
 when we speak of sweet sounds or perfumes, harmonious 
 colouring, hitter cold, soft shades, splendid music, grating 
 sounds, harsh tastes, hot, warm, cool, cold, freezing 
 looks or language, and innumerable others. Many of 
 the effects produced by the sensations of different 
 senses are strikingly analogous. A pure, clear, musical 
 sound, and a pure, clear, simple colour ; the thrilling 
 sensation produced by two sounds in harmony, especially 
 thirds, and the mingling of any two of the primary 
 colours (red, blue and yellow), the successive sounding of 
 the three sounds of the triad, or common chord, and the 
 successive displaying of the three primary colours ; the 
 sounding of the seven notes of the scale in regular 
 succession, and the appearance of the seven prismatic 
 colours ; the discordant effect of the sounding of ail the 
 notes of the scale, and the disagreeable effect of the 
 
60 
 
 INTELLECTUAL POWEES. 
 
 artificial mixing of all the prismatic colours; the natural 
 blending of all the sounds in the scale in the clear tone 
 of a bell, or of a musical string, and the natural blend- 
 ing of all the prismatic colours forming white iight, are 
 so similar in their effects, that we suppose that the 
 attention of the human mind, might be as much attracted 
 by these analogies as by the different organs of sense 
 through which its sensations reach it. It might, perhaps, 
 also class visual sensations, having in them distinct 
 forms, according to these forms — lines straight or curved, 
 long or short ; lines returning into themselves without 
 angles, as circles, or ellipses; or with angles, as triangles, 
 squares, parallelograms ; by which we mean the appear- 
 ances which lines in these forms would have when held 
 distinctly before the eye. Would the mind form any 
 conception of number? Would it observe that three 
 points of light, three successive sounds, and three im- 
 pulses on the sense of touch, were similar, in having the 
 number three common to all? We see no reason to 
 doubt that it would. Here, then, we have the germ of 
 classification, and of reasoning so far as that operation 
 is employed about classification. 
 
 Would a human mind, in the condition of our hypo- 
 thesis, make any effort in the direction of drawing in- 
 ferences? Would it form any idea of a w^hole constituted 
 of two or more parts ? Would it observe that a square, 
 that is, the appearance which a square would have when 
 presented directly before the eye, consists of four equal 
 lines ; or that three lines are required to make one tri- 
 angle ? If a circle were divided into three parts, coloured 
 respectively red, blue, and yellow, would it discern that 
 each of these pieces of breadths of colour were parts 
 of one whole circle ? If it were accustomed to hear 
 three tolls of a bell before sunset, and if it heard two 
 such tolls, would it regard them as parts of the whole 
 signal by which night was ushered in, and expect the 
 third toll ? and if the third toll were not heard, would 
 
INTELLECTUAL POWERS. 
 
 61 
 
 it expect or not expect the sensation of darkness to 
 follow ? If a square were presented before it, divided 
 into equal parallelograms by a line drawn within it 
 parallel to two of the sides, and divided also into two 
 equal triangles by a diagonal, would it ever discover that 
 the triangles were equal to the parallelograms, as both 
 occupying the whole square, and that each of the 
 triangles was equal to each of the parallelograms, both 
 being halves of the same square? We do not see on 
 what grounds such a discovery should be regarded as 
 beyond the powers of a human mind, although conver- 
 sant only with sensations and the remembrance of them. 
 And if the mind were capable, in these circumstances, of 
 such operations and inferences, it would possess the 
 embryo of all reasoning. 
 
 Such is the human mind in the elements of its noble 
 faculties ; — lying passively in its corporeal residence, 
 but open to external influences through the apertures 
 of the organs of sense, yet the fixed eye and im- 
 moveable features, conveying to it no intimation of 
 the world without, it is a very interesting object of 
 contemplation. Shut up in its lonely tenement, hid 
 from every eye but the eye of Him who can commune 
 directly with the spirit, it is yet a little world within 
 itself. It has its own pleasures and pains, its desires 
 and aversions, its hopes and its fears, its joys and 
 its sorrows, its pleasant surprises and its disappoint- 
 ments, its admirations and wonderings, perhaps its 
 melancholy and its cheerful moods. It has also its acute 
 observations of resemblances and differences among the 
 objects of its thoughts, perhaps its classifications and its 
 inferences, with the pleasures which these intellectual 
 operations yield. But we are now to introduce it to new 
 scenes, and vest it with new powers, and observe how its 
 faculties, which we have contemplated in their embryo or 
 chrysalis state, develop themselves. The reader is not 
 
62 
 
 INTELLECTUAL POWEES. 
 
 indeed to suppose that the mind ever actually exists in 
 the condition that we have imagined for it. From the 
 moment of birth, it possesses the command of the volun- 
 tary movements of the body, and this power we shall see 
 opens to it, from the commencement of its career, a 
 range of activity from which, by our hypothesis, it was 
 altogether excluded. We have placed it in its hypothe- 
 tical imprisonment, not as forming a portion of the actual 
 history of any human being, but solely that we might 
 the more easily disentangle the elements of its powers 
 from their more complicated phenomena. 
 
 END OF BOOK I. 
 
BOOK IL 
 
 PERCEPTION, AND THE PHENOMENA DEPENDENT 
 UPON IT. 
 
 We are now to raise the mind, which we have been 
 contemplating, to a higher stage of existence than that 
 which our hypothesis has assigned to it, and to open to it a 
 wider field for the exercise of its faculties. The step by 
 which this is to be effected, is giving it such command 
 of the movements of the body, in which it resides, as we 
 possess, — a power over those of its motions which are 
 called voluntary motions, as distinguished from those 
 motions which proceed independently of its will. 
 
 An infant, from its birth, and independently of all 
 experience, moves those members of its body which are 
 under the control of its will, wittingly. It stretches out 
 its hand, or its foot, and draws it in again, conscious of 
 what it does. This is rendered evident by the fact 
 which we have formerly noticed, that an infant which 
 has once sucked the breast in a reclining posture, will 
 turn its head to the same side on which it lay when it 
 first enjoyed its natural beverage, and form its lips into 
 a round aperture as when they enclosed the nipple, as 
 an indication of its desire of a repetition of the same 
 enjoyment, and of its expectation of receiving it when it 
 was in the same posture. We have observed a very young 
 infant, we dare not say how few weeks old for we took 
 no note of it, bring his hand over an itching sore behind 
 his ear, manifesting how early he had acquired the power 
 of directing his hand wdttingly, and his knowledge of the 
 direction in which the sore lay that was annoying him. 
 We conceive it unnecessary to offer any further proof of 
 
64 
 
 PERCEPTION. 
 
 the fact, that from our earliest infancy, independently 
 of all reasoning and of all inferences from experiment, 
 we move those members of the body which are placed 
 under the control of the mind designedly, and conscious 
 of what we do. Now this fact in our constitution pro- 
 duces the most important results. It is not necessary, 
 indeed, to these results, that this consciousness of power 
 over the muscles of the body, should be innate; it is 
 manifest that it is very early acquired, and all that is 
 necessary for our purpose is that we come to possess it. 
 We proceed to describe the immediate results of this 
 power. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PERCEPTION. 
 
 We have seen that no conception or notion of anything 
 external to the mind could have been communicated by 
 mere sensation. In the state which in the former book 
 we supposed it to be placed, it was exposed to various 
 influences from the external world through the senses ; 
 but it never, in that condition, could have discovered 
 that there was an external world. Its sensations would 
 in such circumstances come and go, but it could never 
 discover how or from what cause ; and they would leave 
 behind them some effect, some impression, as it is 
 figuratively called, that would cause them to be revived 
 in the mind under certain circumstances, and to lay the 
 foundation of many interesting operations, but all without 
 any conception of objects external to itself, which gave 
 beginning to these sensations and operations. 
 
 How, then, does the mind acquire its knowledge of 
 external objects ? The first, and, in some sense, natural 
 supposition is, that the senses discern these objects, — 
 hear, see, taste, smell, feel them ; just as it is the first 
 
PEECEPTION. 
 
 G5 
 
 and natural account that we give of the vicissitudes of 
 day and night, that the sun rises in the east, and passes 
 over to the west, and there sinks beneath the horizon. 
 As more accurate observation, however, has discovered 
 that the sun does not rise nor set, but that its appearing 
 to do so arises from the motion of the earth, so it has 
 been discovered that we hear, see, taste, smell, and feel, 
 only our own sensations, and not the external things that 
 cause the sensations ; and that our inferring the existence 
 of external objects from our sensations is the result of 
 experience. Some of the ancient philosophers imagined 
 that all external objects gave out certain subtile emana- 
 tions, images of themselves, which they called ideas, 
 which entered the organs of sense, and by means of 
 which ideas the mind perceived the external objects. 
 That theory has been long abandoned. More recently, 
 it has been thought that the notion of external objects 
 was conveyed by the sense of touch, and that the mind 
 intuitively inferred the existence, and what have been 
 called the primary qualities, of objects, such as extension, 
 form, &c., from the sensations received by this sense. 
 We have seen, however, that the sense of touch would 
 not of itself convey this notion, any more than any of the 
 other senses; yet this sense is more nearly connected 
 with the discovery of external objects than any or all of 
 the other senses. 
 
 The following seems to be the history of this most 
 important of all discoveries. 
 
 The infant has power to move various parts of its body. 
 We shall confine ourselves at present to the hands. 
 In stretching out his hand, he encounters resistance ; he 
 draws it in, stretches it out again, and is stopped by the 
 same resistance : this conveys the idea of a vacant space 
 and something beyond it.* He draws in his hand and 
 
 * Some metaphysicians suppose that space is a notion in the mind 
 anterior to all experience, that when an infant stretches out his hand 
 he is conscious that the movement is in space. We are not disposed 
 
66 
 
 PEECEPTION. 
 
 touches some part of his own body ; here he meets 
 resistance as before, but there is now a double sensation, 
 the sensation from the nerves of his hand, and the sensa- 
 tion from those of the part of the body which his hand 
 touched. By repeated experiments of this kind, he 
 learns to distinguish between his own body and other 
 objects, and also to know that other objects may be at 
 some distance from him — that there is a vacant space 
 between him and them. He grasps some object, and 
 finds himself resisted in attempting to shut his hand ; 
 he opens his hand, the object that he grasped is removed; 
 he shuts it again, and finds no resistance till he meets 
 part of his own hand, which he learns to distinguish from 
 the extraneous object by the double sensation. He lays 
 his hand on a hard substance, and finds himself peremp- 
 torily prevented from moving it farther in that direction ; 
 but he finds that he can move it along the surface of a 
 hard object to the right or left, forward or backward, till 
 he comes to the ends or sides of it, and then the 
 resistance ceases at once, and his hand drops ; he 
 lifts it, finds the object again, moves his hand over it 
 till he gets to the edges of it, and thus has a kind of 
 rough measurement of the extent of its surface in various 
 directions. As he proceeds with his investigations, he 
 
 very keenly to dispute what may be in the mind of an infant, hut only 
 say, that, having weighed the arguments for that opinion, as far as we 
 could understand them, we are not convinced hy them, and still 
 believe that our notion of space is the result of experience. We must 
 admit, however, that the notion of space may he, as Sir William Ha- 
 milton distinguishes, although not innate, yet native. The infant moves 
 in the womb ; are its motions voluntary, and is it conscious of these 
 motions being in any particular direction.? If so, it must receive the 
 notions of matter and space there. Are its motions arrested hy the parietes 
 of its receptacle, and is it conscious of their being so arrested ? Then 
 it may be born with the conception of a non ego, or something different 
 from itself. Still we should conceive it more probable that the notion 
 of matter, space, and a non ego, is derived from its voluntary motions, 
 than that it has an innate notion of space, and moves its limbs, in 
 consequence of that innate notion, in a certain direction. For a 
 notice of Kant’s inferences from what he regards as necessary 
 cognitions or modes of thought, we refer to Note B in the Appendix. 
 
PERCEPTION. 
 
 07 
 
 follows the course of the edges, till he obtains some 
 notion of the form of it. He lays his hand on a soft 
 substance : it resists him ; but he finds that, unlike the 
 hard substance, it yields to his pressure, and thus gets 
 the idea of hard and soft. He touches something cold 
 or warm, and thus is furnished with the information 
 that some external objects are warm and some cold. 
 
 Meanwhile, he is learning the use of his eyes, and is 
 wonderfully aided by them in his discoveries. He finds 
 out, in turning his eyes in different directions, that he 
 changes the sensations he receives from them : that by 
 fixing them in one direction, he prolongs a sensation ; 
 that when he turns them away the sensation ceases ; 
 when he brings them back to the same position, the 
 sensation is renewed. Having mastered the achieve- 
 ment of directing his eyes and his hands to the same 
 point, he begins to connect his sensations of sight with 
 those of touch. He finds that objects which have 
 different forms, as ascertained by handling them, have 
 also different appearances ; that ^vhen he holds anything 
 in his hand and brings it near his eye, it looks large ; 
 and that when he stretches his hand away from his eye, 
 it looks small ; that when he turns the object in his 
 hand in one direction, it has one appearance, and when 
 he turns it in another direction the appearance altogether 
 changes ; and thus, by incessant trials, he gradually 
 learns to distinguish the various notices given by the 
 sense of sight of the forms, positions and distances of the 
 various objects that come within the reach of his investi- 
 gations. 
 
 As his powers of motion extend, his knowledge of dis- 
 tances increases. He sees a glittering object when his eyes 
 look in a certain direction ; he stretches out his hand in 
 the same direction, but cannot reach it ; he stretches his 
 whole body towards it, and does reach it. On a similar 
 occasion he continues to move his whole body towards it, 
 and, after an arduous struggle, gets hold of it. He has 
 
68 
 
 PERCEPTION. 
 
 now discovered an important secret, and when he sees 
 such an object which he finds he cannot reach, he appeals 
 for help, and insists on being moved towards it, or on 
 its being brought nearer to him. His eyes are thus 
 gradually acquiring facility in judging of the distance of 
 objects. 
 
 As he acquires the power of moving himself along 
 the floor, his sensations of touch and sight become more 
 perfectly corrected to one another ; till a glance of any 
 known object in its various distances, positions, lights, 
 and shades, instantly intimates to him what it is, how 
 far off it is, in what direction, and in what position it is. 
 His other senses also come to aid him in his inquiries. 
 His mother, or nurse, becomes known to him, not only 
 by sight and touch, but also by the sound of her voice 
 and her smell ; and he gradually learns to recognise 
 her by the eye, at various distances, and in various 
 attitudes and positions. 
 
 When the mind is fully possessed with the belief that 
 the sensations of sight and touch come from without, it 
 learns to apply the same principle to sensations from 
 the other senses, and to become equally persuaded that 
 sounds and smells come from without also ; and which 
 persuasion it finds, in ordinary cases, confirmed by 
 fact. In regard to tastes, the manner in which we 
 receive them, and the sense of touch that accompanies 
 them constrain us to ascribe them to external objects, 
 as soon as we know that there are external objects. We 
 at length become so fully possessed with the persuasion 
 that all our sensations are caused by external objects, 
 that we become prone to carry the persuasion beyond 
 the truth ; and when we experience a sensation of ringing 
 in the ears by some derangement of the organ itself, we 
 ascribe it to a ringing of bells; or if, from disease in 
 the brain, visual sensations are recalled with unusual 
 vivacity, as in delirium tremens, the patient imagines that 
 he is looking at external objects. 
 
PEECEPTION. 
 
 69 
 
 The reader is not to imagine that we have attempted 
 to trace the exact process, in order, by which the mind 
 of every infant becomes acquainted with external objects ; 
 for that must be as various as the various circumstances 
 in which every infant is placed. In some the process 
 may be more slow, in others more rapid. The order of 
 discovery may be different in different minds ; but in all 
 there must be processes such as we have described. 
 And to one accustomed to observe infants, the effect of 
 these processes may often be detected. The long, atten- 
 tive gaze, followed by a smile or chuckle of delight, 
 indicates some pleasant discovery, or the consciousness 
 of some new achievement. The eye following a candle, 
 or other bright object, losing it by looking in another 
 direction, and intimating the loss by a whimper or a tear, 
 recovering it again by looking in the proper direction, 
 and hailing it with a laugh of complacency; the eyes 
 intently looking in a particular direction, and the hand 
 stretched out in the same direction, and touching or 
 laying hold on some object that had arrested its atten- 
 tion ; the careful examination that it may sometimes be 
 seen making of its own fingers, holding them up, turning 
 them round, shutting, opening them, with its eyes all 
 the while intently fixed on them, are all indications of the 
 mind vigorously engaged in acquiring the elements of 
 knowledge. 
 
 The cognition of the external world thus obtained by 
 means of sensation and muscular effort we call Per- 
 ception, or the perceiving of the existence and qualities 
 of external objects. 
 
 Much subtlety has been expended on this subject, 
 which we do not feel ourselves called upon to detail. 
 Some of the ancients, as we have already mentioned, 
 imagined that we perceived external objects by means of 
 species or ideas, which emanated from all objects, entered 
 the mind by the senses, and so produced perception. 
 More modern metaphysicians then inferred that if we 
 
70 
 
 PERCEPTION. 
 
 perceived nothing hut what was in the mind, we had no | 
 evidence of the existence of anything hut the ideas in the 1. 
 
 mind, and that we had no reason to believe there was | 
 
 any external world, hut rather the contrary. Then came J 
 David Hume, and irresistibly proved that if this were i 
 the state of matters, there is no evidence for the exist- ^ 
 ence of anything, even the mind itself, and its ideas. 
 These startling conclusions drew the attention of 
 Dr. Thomas Keid, and others after him, to the whole 
 theory, of perception being effected by means of species or 
 ideas, and led them to assert that our inferring the exist- 
 ence and qualities of external objects from the sensations 
 of touch was intuitive — a part of our constitution of 
 which we could not divest ourselves, that it was anterior 
 to all reasoning, and therefore could never be proved by 
 reasoning. Dr. Brown, the successor of Dugald Stewart, i 
 has traced the discovery of external objects to the sense 
 of touch combined with conscious muscular movement ; 
 and the inference of the existence of external things 
 from these two phenomena of the mind, — namely, tactile ^ 
 sensations, combined with the conscious movement of 
 the limbs in various directions — is so direct and so neces- 
 sary to us, that if any infant should not make these 
 inferences, and so should not become acquainted with 
 external objects, it w^ould remain an idiot. It seems to 
 be a sufficient penalty on the rejection of an external 
 world, or the entertaining of any serious practical doubts j 
 of its existence, that any man who should do so, would, j 
 in his search after philosophy, deprive himself of his i 
 reason, and effectually qualify himself for a lunatic \ 
 asylum. j 
 
NATUEE OF SELF, OR PERSONAL IDENTITY. 
 
 71 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 NOTION OF SELF, OR PERSONAL IDENTITY. 
 
 When the mind, according to our first hypothesis, was, 
 in consequence of its want of power to move any part of 
 the body, destitute of the means of discovering the 
 existence of anything external to itself, it could form no 
 conception of any being other than itself. Its own 
 sensations, and its ruminations of them, with the pains 
 and pleasures, the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows, 
 the pleasant surprises and the disappointments of which 
 it w^as the subject, constituted the whole universe to it. 
 But when, by the power of moving the body, combined 
 with the sense of touch, it acquired the knowledge of the 
 existence and qualities of beings external to itself, it 
 necessarily acquired, at the same time, the notion of 
 myself, or of its own personal identity. 
 
 Personal identity may either be regarded as the dis- 
 tinction of self from other beings at any given moment, 
 or the identity of self at different periods of existence ; 
 or, in other words, personal identity as distinguished 
 from other beings without regard to time, and personal 
 identity with regard to continued duration. There is 
 also another distinction that requires to be attended to, — 
 namely, on the one hand my personal identity as it is 
 apprehended by others, or the personal identity of others 
 as apprehended by me, and on the other, personal 
 identity as it is apprehended by the person himself who 
 apprehends it, — that is, the notion of thyself or himself, 
 and the notion of myself. 
 
 With respect to my own identification of myself from 
 others at the present moment, it depends on the body, 
 through which exclusively my mind is affected, and over 
 which my mind has direct power. Every sensitive part 
 of my body, and every member of my body over which 
 
7 '2 NATUBE OF SELF, OB PEBSONAL IDENTITY. 
 
 my will has power (and as, by means of my power 
 of locomotion, I can move my whole body), that 
 sensitive controllable body, with the mind that is 
 affected through its organs of sense, and that controls 
 it, forms myself. I see other objects touching other 
 animate or inanimate beings, but I receive no sensation, 
 these are not myself. I see danger approaching another 
 person which he should avoid, but I cannot, by the act of 
 my will, move his limbs as I could my own, to carry him 
 out of the way of it. That person is not myself. 
 
 With respect to prolonged identity, or the knowledge 
 that I am now the same person that I was in all former 
 parts of my history, that depends partly on the conscious- 
 ness that my body is the same, the same medium of 
 sensation, the same organs of sense, the same limbs 
 which I have commanded and used for my purposes all 
 my life. Whether it be the same matter or not does 
 not enter into the question. It is its being the same 
 organisation, although, according to that organisation, it 
 may have been continually changing the matter of which 
 it is composed. An oak does not consist of the same 
 matter as it did when, as an acorn, it was planted in the 
 earth. Yet, to one who had observed it from the moment 
 that it began to appear above the ground till it became a 
 great tree, it would be the same, because its organisation 
 had never been changed. So a human body is the same, 
 from its embryo in the womb, through all the stages 
 of its growth — infancy, childhood, youth, manhood, old 
 age ; because it has been throughout its history the same 
 organisation. It is the same to-day that it was yesterday, 
 the same yesterday that it was the day before ; and so, 
 tracing it backwards to its origin, no day could be found 
 on which it could be said, this is not the same body that 
 it was yesterday. The germ therefore of the organisation 
 of the body may be so minute as to be indestructible, 
 and its organisation may, after death, still exist, and be 
 perfectly known to Him who made it. 
 
NATUEE OF SELF, OB PEKSONAL IDENTITY. 73 
 
 But my sense of personal identity depends chiefly on 
 my remembrances. I am the same person who have 
 been affected so and so, or who have done so and so, 
 which effects and acts are recorded in my memory. If 
 my sensations or perceptions, after affecting me for the 
 moment, should pass away, and could never be recalled, 
 as if they had been objects passing before a mirror, 
 leaving no trace of themselves, I could have no con- 
 sciousness of prolonged personal identity. But myself 
 is my mind, with its store of remembrances accumulated 
 during my whole life ; or, rather, my mind, with its apti- 
 tude for having its series of past sensations and per- 
 ceptions, emotions and acts of its will, and its past 
 . ruminations of them,- recalled to me. 
 
 My prolonged identity, in the view of other persons, 
 depends on the identity of my body from the time that 
 they became [acquainted with me, connected with what 
 they have known of my history. They judge my body 
 to he the same by its organisation being the same, as I 
 should judge of an oak being the same from its first 
 appearance above ground, till its becoming a lofty tree ; 
 and that judgment they connect with what they remember 
 of my history, my sayings and doings, and sufferings. 
 Thus my own personal identification from my childhood 
 till now depends on my own remembrance of my history ; 
 and commences with the commencement of those re- 
 membrances. My personal identification, in the estimate 
 of others, depends on what they remember respecting 
 me ; and commences also with the first of those remem- 
 brances ; to which is added, day by day, or year by year, 
 their further acquaintance with my historv recorded in 
 their own memories. 
 
74 
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 By the will, we understand the power of the mind to 
 choose or refuse. An act of the will is an act of choice. 
 This is the definition adopted by Edwards, and we 
 would only add this explanation that it is a power of 
 immediate effective choice; and not a mere preference, or 
 desire, or wish, which we have not power to gratify. 
 
 The very first effect of the change which \ve have 
 made in the hypothetic circumstances of the mind, by 
 furnishing it with a human body, and that amount of 
 power over its motions which the mind of man pos- 
 sesses, is the exercise of a will. In its former state, it 
 had no power, and therefore no will ; for we. have seen 
 that, although there may be desire where there is no 
 power, there cannot be will. Now, by our former hypo- 
 thesis, the mind had no power over the body, and having 
 no power over the body, it had no power over its own 
 operations. It could not procure the repetition or pro^ 
 longation of a sensation, nor could it command the 
 remembrance of a former sensation. These remem- 
 brances or revivals of sensations in the mind itself we 
 saw were regulated by certain laws called the laws of 
 suggestion, over which the mind had no direct power. 
 We saw that a necessity was imposed upon it of attend- 
 ing only to one sensation or reminiscence at a time, and 
 that the preference given to any sensation or remi- 
 niscence was determined not by any act of the mind, 
 but by some quality or relation in the sensation or 
 reminiscence. We saw that when the attention was 
 directed to any sensation, or remembrance of a sensa- 
 tion, by a desire existing in the mind itself to examine 
 it, that desire was excited by some quality in the sen- 
 sation or reminiscence, or by its relation to other 
 
THE WILL 
 
 75 
 
 sensations or reminiscences. We saw, also, that the 
 pleasure or the pain of sensations was equally beyond 
 the power of the will ; that it could not love nor hate, 
 according to the dictates of the will. But now that the 
 mind has a body, over the movements of which it pos- 
 sesses a certain control, it has attained to the exercise of 
 a will ; because, when it chooses, it can move the hand, or 
 the foot, the head, the eye, the lips, the tongue, in one 
 direction or another. Here it has absolute control. The 
 obedience to it by those muscles to which the power of 
 the will extends, is prompt and perfect, to the full extent 
 of their strength and liberty. 
 
 Here is the dominion of the mind, and its only direct 
 dominion. It can move its own limbs, its arms, its legs 
 (that is, its own by possession and command), the trunk 
 of its body, its head, its eyes, its tongue, and the 
 muscles of its face, all within certain limits. It can 
 also, by moving the members of its body, move other 
 bodies. It can grasp, and push, and draw, lift up, and 
 let down other objects within certain prescribed limits ; 
 but it cannot will the movement of these other objects, 
 as it can the movement of the muscles of its own body. 
 It cannot even directly will or command the removal of 
 its own body from one place to another. All that it can 
 do for that purpose is to will the movement of certain 
 muscles by which it creeps, or walks, or runs from one 
 place to another. When, therefore, the word will is 
 applied to the force exerted on extraneous bodies, it is 
 only in a figurative or secondary sense. It cannot move 
 them by a mere act of will. The will reaches no farther 
 than the movement of certain muscles, which muscles 
 move those parts of the body to which they are attached ; 
 and those parts of the body, when thus put in motion, 
 move extraneous objects with which they come in contact, 
 with a force, regulated by the mechanical laws of motion 
 — that is a force proportioned to their momentum. 
 
 Nor does the will acquire any direct power over the 
 
76 
 
 THE WELL. 
 
 mind itself, by having a body placed, to a certain extent, 
 under its control. The mind still can attend but to one 
 object at a time, at least in the sense in which we have 
 already explained ; and the attention, we have seen, is 
 drawn to any object, not by a direct fiat of the mind, but 
 by some quality in the object, or some circumstance con- 
 nected with it. 
 
 But the power over the body with which the mind is 
 endowed may be made to afford to it great aid in direct- 
 ing the attention to one object in preference to others. 
 If it be a visible object that it desires to attend to, it 
 can direct the eyes towards it. If it be a reminiscence, 
 it can shut the eyes against external objects that might 
 draw off its attention ; it can read about an object to 
 which it desires to attend, or converse about it, or remove 
 the body to situations where it meets various objects 
 which have been formerly associated with it. By such 
 means it can procure much aid, from its control over the 
 body, in keeping any object before it which it desires to 
 examine or reflect upon. But still the act of the will is 
 merely the producing those actions of the muscles by 
 which these intermediate operations are effected. 
 
 If the most despotic monarch were deprived of all 
 power of voluntary movement, he would also be deprived 
 of all exercise of the will. He might still fervently 
 desire to have some object effected, but he could no 
 longer, even in a figurative sense, will it. From his 
 habit of commanding, he might for a time attempt to 
 effect his purpose, but his power to express his will is 
 gone ; he can make no sign, and he would soon cease to 
 repeat his impotent attempts to exercise a will. 
 
 In loose, incorrect language, we say, a man wills 
 operations through the medium of others, very remote 
 from any movement of his own muscles. But he is 
 merely like one who has set up a number of blocks of 
 wood in a row, so that if the first be overturned in a 
 certain direction, it overturns that which is next to it, 
 
THE WILL. 
 
 77 
 
 and that the one beyond it, and so to the last. He 
 desires and intends to overturn the last at a particular 
 moment; hut the only act of will that he puts forth 
 is that by which he moves his own muscles so as to 
 attempt to overturn the first. Till that he done, the 
 state of his mind may he desire or inclination, but is 
 not an exercise of will. 
 
 A king or general of an army, by writing his name 
 on a bit of paper, or uttering a single word, may cause 
 a city a hundred miles off to be sacked, and its inhabi- 
 tants massacred ; and, in ordinary language, he is said 
 to have willed that catastrophe : but, speaking in strict 
 correctness, the only act of his will was the movement 
 of his muscles to write his name, or to utter his word 
 of command. He desired and intended the destruction 
 of the city, but he could will only the movement of his 
 own muscles. This writing his name to an order, or 
 uttering his command by his voice, was like the over- 
 turning the first block of wood, by which all the others 
 in the row were overturned. 
 
 But what is it that moves the will ? This, too, is a 
 subject on which there has been much subtile contro- 
 versy. We can afford space only to glance at the sub- 
 ject. The great point in controversy is, whether the 
 will has a self-determining power, or whether it is itself 
 necessarily moved from without. We have seen that 
 the will, by its direct acts, can move only the voluntary 
 muscles of the body. What moves it to move them ? 
 It seems obvious that the mind must have some reason 
 for moving the members of the body. For many of 
 these movements there may be very slight reasons, but 
 for all of them there must be some reason. Much has 
 been said and written as if the will and the mind were 
 different beings ; but the will is merely the mind in a 
 certain state. The impulse of a motive is one state of 
 the mind, the act of the will is another. The one is 
 the mind considering, desiring, intending ; the other is 
 
78 
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 the mind acting. Now, can the mind act on the body 
 without the previous state of considering, desiring, 
 intending to act ? To speak as if the will had a self- 
 determining power, independently of other faculties or 
 states of the mind, is to speak unintelligibly. The will, 
 we have said, as distinguished from other faculties of 
 the mind, is the mind acting on the body. And how 
 can acting be self-determining, when determining is a 
 different state of the mind from willing, that is, acting 
 according to previous determination ? 
 
 But is the will necessarily acted on by motives? — 
 that is, is the will necessarily influenced or acted on by 
 the previous determination ? The answer is, certainly 
 it is so. What is there to move the mind to act on the 
 body but its own determination ? We must, therefore, 
 go a step further back, and ask, what moves the mind 
 to determine on acting ? Surely not a will previous to 
 determination, for the will has no direct power over any 
 mental operation, but simply over the body. The 
 determination is fixed by the desire of effecting or 
 attaining some object. I am hungry, and I see food 
 before me. I, by an act of the will, stretch out my 
 hand to take it. But the food that I see belongs to 
 some other person, and I have no right to take it. If 
 I be honest, therefore, that consideration will neutralise 
 the desire for that particular food, and I determine not 
 to take it, and the will is quiescent; but if I be dis- 
 honest, that consideration will not neutralise the desire, 
 and I shall stretch out my hand for it notwithstanding ; 
 nay, perhaps with all the greater avidity that it does 
 not belong to me. 
 
 Much has also been said on this subject as if the 
 motives were external to the mind, whereas the motives 
 are always in the mind itself, and consist of its desires. 
 Some authors have spoken of the mind as if it were a 
 kind of balance necessarily swayed to the one side or 
 the other by the weights appended to it, these weights 
 
THE WILL. 
 
 79 
 
 being external objects presented to it. It is true its 
 desires are often excited by external things, but whether 
 they be so excited or not depends on the state of the 
 mind itself. Food presented to a man not hungry 
 excites no desire to eat. A piece of gold laid in the 
 way of a person who does not know the value of it, will 
 excite in him no desire to take it, neither would it 
 excite any such desire in the mind of an upright man ; 
 but it might excite the most ravenous desire in the mind 
 of a thief. Two men, the one strong, the other weak, 
 walk together through a lonely forest by night, and the 
 weak man is known to have a large sum of money with 
 him. The effect of these circumstances on the mind of 
 the strong man will entirely depend on its previous 
 state. If he were a thief and a ruffian, his position might 
 prove an overpowering temptation to rob, and perhaps 
 also to murder the weak man. If he were an upright 
 and humane man, no such thought would be suggested, 
 or if suggested as a mere speculation, it would excite no 
 such desire : on the contrary, the desire excited would 
 be to protect the weak man, and see him safely out of a 
 place where he might be exposed to danger from others. 
 
 Much also has been said as ff a man’s character were 
 determined by the acts of his will, and as if he were 
 responsible only for these acts. But the acts of the 
 will, or rather those acts of the mind which are called 
 the will, are the mere indication of the previous state 
 of the mind. It is true that a man is not morally 
 accountable for acts that are involuntary. An electric 
 shock might make a man plunge a knife into the body 
 of another , but for that act he would not be account- 
 able, for it was not the act of his mind, but merely a 
 spasm of his muscles over which he had no control. It 
 is true, also, that before a human tribunal a man can be 
 held responsible only for his acts ; but before God he 
 is accountable for his purposes and desires, as well as 
 his acts. Nay, even human laws pay regard to the 
 
80 
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 intention. One man kills another. The law regards 
 that act as primd facie evidence of evil intention ; but 
 it admits proof to rebut the primd facie evidence, and 
 to acquit the manslayer of evil intention. A man’s 
 moral character is determined not by the acts of his 
 will, but by the motives that operate on his will. The 
 master of a passage canal-boat stated to one of his pas- 
 sengers, that, a few nights previously, he had a woman 
 as his only passenger, who told him that she had three 
 hundred pounds with her. This she let him know, 
 that she might be the more secure from robbery. He 
 went on to say, that he never had been in so great a 
 state of excitement as he was the whole of that night ; 
 but that at last his good purposes overcame his evil 
 thoughts towards the woman; and he seemed to ascribe 
 considerable merit to himself that he had let her off 
 uninjured. Now, was this man a robber and murderer, 
 or not ? If that is to be determined solely by the acts 
 of his will, he was no robber or murderer, for he com- 
 mitted no such act. But he desired the woman’s money ; 
 and what prevented him from taking it? If it was 
 reluctance to murder, then he was only a robber in his 
 heart, but not a murderer. If it was merely the dread 
 of detection that prevented him from robbing and mur- 
 dering the woman, he was both a robber and murderer. 
 If it was the fear of Hell that prevented him, it was his 
 superstition ; for if he had been really a man who feared 
 God, he would have felt no desire for the woman’s 
 money, he would have experienced no agitation about 
 it, and his only care would have been to see her in 
 safety at her destination. 
 
 The will is moved by previous desires, but these 
 desires are influenced in various ways ; modified, quick- 
 ened, deadened, or altogether neutralised by perceptions, 
 suggestions, considerations of infinite diversity ; and 
 the will, that is, the act of the mind on the body, 
 necessarily obeys the determination to which the mind 
 
THE WILL. 
 
 81 
 
 comes ; and over these previous operations, that end in 
 the act of the mind called the will, the will itself, that 
 is, the act of the mind, can have no influence whatever. 
 
 A theological argument has been introduced into the 
 controversy, namely, that if the will was not necessarily 
 moved by motives, the acts of man could not be foreseen 
 nor directed by the Deity. To this it has been answered, 
 that if the foreseeing the acts of men implies that they 
 are governed by necessity, then God’s foreseeing his 
 own acts must imply that they, too, are governed by 
 necessity. We conceive this train of reasoning to be 
 totally irrelevant, and can see no force either in the 
 argument, or the reply to it. Suppose the mere thought 
 of committing a crime were to cause any man violent 
 pain in any part of his body, it might be predicted that 
 he would abhor the thought, and much more the com- 
 mission, of the crime. And if a man’s mind be in a 
 state that the thought of a crime causes horror, or any 
 mental distress, it may be as clearly foreseen and pre- 
 dicted that he would not commit the crime. If, on the 
 other hand, his mind were in such a state that it would 
 be torture to him not to commit a crime (for example, 
 not to drink intoxicating liquors, or not to revenge an 
 injury), it might be foreseen and predicted with equal 
 certainty, that he would, if he had opportunity, commit 
 the crime. Yet in neither case does the man act from 
 necessity, for in the one case he might, if he chose, do 
 violence to his feelings, and commit the crime ; and in 
 the other case he might do equal violence to his feelings, 
 and refrain from committing the crime. The whole 
 power of the motive depends on the state of the mind ; 
 and if the state of the mind be foreseen, the acts of 
 the will in given circumstances may he foreseen also. 
 
 Some argue that a man who resists strong temptation 
 has greater merit than a man who is not tempted. But 
 the question of merit has nothing to do with the condition 
 of a man’s mind. A man who has a strong desire to 
 
82 
 
 THE OEIGIN OF OUR NOTION OF 
 
 commit robbery or murder, but who from some other 
 motive refrains from gratifying his desire, is surely in a 
 state of mind infinitely inferior to that of a man who 
 abhors robbery and murder, to whom the very thought 
 of such deeds would be mental torture. God, therefore, 
 may foresee, nay may determine the acts of every indivi- 
 dual, without laying any necessity on them to do those 
 acts ; their doing or not doing those acts being determined 
 by the state of their minds, combined with the outward 
 circumstances in which they are placed. 
 
 In regard to the Deity acting from necessity, whatever 
 necessity lies upon Him it is necessity from within his 
 own spirit, and not from without. It is the necessity 
 resulting from his own infinite wisdom, and power, and 
 goodness, necessarily determining Him, to do in all cases 
 that which is most wise and good. The Deity cannot do 
 wrong, because the perfectly holy state of his own spirit 
 necessarily determines Him always to do that which is 
 right. If it were otherwise, he would not be the Deity, 
 and “ He cannot {ov hwarai) deny himself.” But this 
 subject belongs rather to ethics than to psychology. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF OUR NOTION OF CAUSE AND EFFECT. 
 
 We have seen that the mind, destitute of power to 
 produce effects on anything external to itself, or even 
 upon itself, could form no conception of cause and 
 effect ; that a succession of sensations, in any particular 
 order, however long continued, would indeed beget the 
 confident expectation that the same antecedent would be 
 followed by the same consequent sensation, but would 
 not suggest the idea that the one was the cause of the 
 other. The regular sound of a drum before daylight 
 would establish such a connection in the mind between 
 
CAUSE AND EFFECT. 
 
 83 
 
 the one event and the other, that the sound of the drum 
 would suggest the sensation of daylight and excite the 
 confident expectation of it ; but it could never give rise 
 to the notion that the sound of the drum was the cause 
 of daylight. Some have supposed that when one event 
 constantly and regularly follows another, we intuitively 
 regard the first as the cause of the second. But in the 
 case of daylight regularly following the sound of the 
 drum, such an intuitive persuasion would be false, and it 
 is surely very improbable, to use no stronger language, 
 that any intuitive persuasion should be contrary to 
 truth. 
 
 Is it said that the expectation that the same conse- 
 quents will follow the same antecedents, which we have 
 regarded as intuitive, often deceives us ? The reply is 
 obvious, Never, if the antecedents be truly the same.” 
 We may be disappointed in our expectation of conse- 
 quents, but it will only be when we suppose antecedents 
 to be the same which were in fact different; and the 
 distinguishing of merely similar from identical antece- 
 dents is one of the great lessons of life and of all 
 philosophy. When the antecedents are really the same, 
 we are never disappointed in the consequents. 
 
 We are firmly persuaded, therefore, that although a 
 regular, constant succession of sensations or events would, 
 by a law of our mind corresponding to the law of the 
 universe without, excite a confident expectation that the 
 same antecedents in the succession would be followed by 
 the same consequents, yet that it would never suggest 
 to us the notion of cause and effect. 
 
 But when the mind has power given to it to move 
 the muscles of the body, and, by these, the various 
 members of the body which are placed under its control, 
 it is then conscious that it is itself the cause of the 
 voluntary movements of the body. My hand, or my 
 foot, or my eye moves simply because I will it to move. 
 Now it is impossible to conceive of any notion of cause 
 
84 
 
 THE OBIGIN OF OUR NOTION OF 
 
 and effect more pure, more perfect, or more in accord- 
 ance with truth. This is not a mere regular succession. 
 The act of the mind and the movement produced by it 
 are so perfectly simultaneous in the mind’s regard, that 
 the finest analytical edge cannot be inserted between 
 them. The mind is conscious of being the cause of the 
 effect produced, without being conscious of any succession. 
 It does not first will, and then see the effect of its 
 willing, but the fiat of the mind and the intended motion 
 produced by it are in the consciousness of the mind at 
 the same instant. 
 
 But again, the mind is conscious that it is the cause 
 of whatever change is made in extraneous bodies by 
 means of its power over the members of its own body. 
 If I lift a stone from the ground, I am conscious that I 
 am the cause of the stone rising from the ground, in 
 opposition to the law of gravitation which would have 
 kept it there. If I push anything from me, or draw 
 anything towards me, I am conscious that my will is the 
 cause of these movements. Here again there is no 
 succession in the mind’s consciousness. I will to lift 
 the stone, or to draw towards me or push from me the 
 object which I grasp, and it is instantaneously done. 
 
 Yet again, if I intend and produce a movement by the 
 intervention of media, I am conscious that I am the. 
 cause of the movement. If I set up a number of blocks 
 of wood on their end in a straight line away from me, so 
 that by overturning the one next to me I should over- 
 turn the whole to the last of the series ; and if I then 
 voluntarily put forth my hand and overturn the first, I 
 am conscious that I am the cause of overturning the 
 rest. Here is, indeed, a perceptible succession in the 
 process by which the last block is overturned ; but it is 
 not from a regular succession that I derive my notion of 
 cause and effect in that case, but from my consciousness 
 of my being the direct cause of overturning the first with 
 the intention of also overturning the others. If a quantity 
 
CAUSE AND EFFECT. 
 
 85 
 
 of gunpowder be placed in a house, and a train laid from 
 it, and if I voluntarily take hold of a lighted match and 
 apply it to the end of the train, with the intention of 
 blowing up the house, then I am conscious that I was 
 the cause of the explosion that ensued. If the general 
 of an army sign and deliver an order that a district of 
 country be laid waste with fire and sword, then he is 
 conscious that he was the cause of the conflagrations and 
 bloodshed that ensued ; while, at the same time, every 
 inferior agent, in executing the order, is conscious of 
 being the cause of the effects produced directly by the 
 movements of his own body, or by the movements of 
 others acting under his orders 
 
 This is the first and original class of phenomena from 
 which we derive the notion of cause and effect. But 
 there are other classes of phenomena to which this 
 notion is extended when once we get possession of it. 
 
 A second class of phenomena with which we connect 
 the notion of cause and effect is that in which the mind 
 is passively affected by external objects. Our acquaint- 
 ance with the external world enables us to discover that 
 certain objects produce certain sensations ; or, at least, 
 that certain sensations always accompany the presence 
 of certain objects. The ringing of a bell, or the beating 
 of a drum, produces certain sensations of sound ; the 
 appearance of the sun is always accompanied with certain 
 sensations of sight and feeling, and we ascribe our 
 sensations to these outward objects as the causes of 
 them. This, however, we apprehend to be only an 
 extension of our notion of cause and effect derived from 
 that class of phenomena in which the mind is the active 
 and conscious cause of the effects; and we greatly doubt 
 whether, even after the mind had discovered the exist- 
 ence of outward objects, and their connection with our 
 sensations, it could ever have formed from that discovery 
 any other notion than that of a constant connection 
 which it would intuitively expect to be uniformly 
 
86 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF OUR NOTION OF 
 
 preserved. But having once obtained the notion of causa- 
 tion from our own consciousness, we naturally extend 
 the notion of effects to those cases in which our mind is 
 passive, and of causes to the antecedents of our passive 
 sensations. Children are prone to he pleased or dis- 
 pleased with external inanimate objects that affect them 
 pleasantly or painfully. They are vexed and angry with 
 the pin that pricks them, and hug the little book that 
 delights them with its brilliant pictures. 
 
 A third class of phenomena with which we connect 
 the notion of cause and effect, consists of that in which 
 the mind is not regarded as the cause, or its sen- 
 sations as the effects ; but in which it is a mere spec- 
 tator of constant and regular connection of phenomena, 
 or successions of antecedents and consequents among 
 external objects. This, however, is merely another case 
 in which we extend, by analogy, to mere successions the 
 notion of cause and effect, derived from our own con- 
 sciousness of being the cause of certain effects. Our 
 expectation of similar consequents from similar ante- 
 cedents is the operation of that law which we have 
 found to be intuitive, or at least to be born with us. 
 The notion that the consequent follows the antecedent, 
 as the effect of a cause, is not intuitive or born with 
 us, but is easily and naturally derived from those cases 
 in which we are conscious that our minds are the causes 
 of effects on our bodies, and on other objects external to 
 us. I strike a ball lying on the floor with my hand or 
 foot, and it rolls away from me ; another ball strikes it, 
 and produces the same effect, — and as I regarded my 
 hand or foot as the cause of the motion in the one case, 
 I am easily led to regard the second ball as the cause in 
 the other. I strike a bell with a hammer, and it sounds ; 
 and I am conscious that I am the mediate cause of the 
 sound, and the hammer the immediate cause. The bell 
 is swung, and the tongue strikes it and produces the 
 same effect : and what more natural than to view the 
 
CAUSE AND EFFECT. 
 
 87 
 
 tongue as the cause of the sound ? In both cases, the 
 real causes were my wielding the hammer, and the per- 
 son who swung the bell ; hut the transfer of the notion 
 of cause to the passive instruments employed in pro- 
 ducing the effects, is so easy and natural, that very 
 young cliildren make it spontaneously. We ask, “ What 
 hurt you ? ” and, as soon as they can speak, they say the 
 table, or the chair, or the spoon, as if these objects were 
 the active causes of their hurt. 
 
 The theory, therefore, that has been adopted by many 
 able men after Hume, that our notion of cause and 
 effect is derived from our observing that the same con- 
 sequents always follow the same antecedents, and con- 
 sequently that nothing more is known to us of cause 
 and effect than a mere regular succession without any 
 connecting principle, is a manifest fallacy. For our 
 observation of a regular succession of antecedents and 
 consequents, so far from being the origin of our notion 
 of cause and effect, is only an analogical extension of 
 that notion previously obtained from our own conscious- 
 ness to these regular successions. For, on the one hand, 
 no mere regular succession of events, however long con- 
 tinued, would have given rise to the notion of cause and 
 effect in our minds ; and, on the other hand, it requires 
 no regular succession of antecedents and consequents to 
 give origin to that notion ; but on the very first occasion 
 on which the mind is conscious of producing a voluntary 
 movement of any member of the body, it is conscious 
 that itself is the cause, and that the movement is the 
 effect. 
 
 The reader will observe that we have not been dis- 
 cussing the nature of cause and effect, but simply the 
 mode in which we form the conception of cause and 
 effect. The qualities of objects which produce effects 
 on other objects may be necessary causes, for aught we 
 know to the contrary ; but we know nothing more than 
 that they are regular antecedents to consequents. In 
 
88 SENSATION, AS MODIFIED BY PERCEPTION. 
 
 regard to the assertion that we cannot conceive of any 
 change without a cause for it, see Book I., ch. 3, p. 44. 
 
 Let us now suppose the mind, with its new acquisi- 
 tions — its power over the body, its perception of the 
 external material world, its will, and its conceptions of 
 cause and effect — introduced upon the theatre of the 
 world, among the multiplicity of animate and inanimate 
 objects with which it is filled, and the various influences 
 to which it is subjected, and let us look hack upon those 
 powers and operations which we have contemplated in 
 their embryo state, observing what modifications its 
 new circumstances may make upon them, and what new 
 faculties or operations they may develop. We confine 
 ourselves in this division of our work to the mind’s 
 perceptions of the material world, regarding, for the 
 present, the inferior animals, and even man himself, 
 but as material machines. We shall reserve the recog- 
 nition of other minds, with the effects of that recognition, 
 to a future division. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SENSATION, AS MODIFIED BY PERCEPTION. 
 
 The modifications of sensation occasioned by the new 
 circumstances into which we have introduced the mind, 
 are chiefly the two following. 
 
 1. By the mind’s power over the motions of the body, 
 combined with its knowledge of external objects, it has 
 acquired a certain power over its sensations. It cannot 
 prevent any external object which comes within the 
 range of its organs of senso, from exciting the sensation 
 which the qualities of the object are fitted to excite ; 
 nor can it excite any sensation in itself independently 
 of the presence of the object fitted to excite it. But 
 
SENSATION, AS MODIFIED BY PEECEPTION. 89 
 
 it has obtained a certain power, chiefly by the use 
 of the hands, to bring objects within the range of its 
 organs of sense, or to remove them from it ; and, by the 
 use of the lower limbs, to bring the organs of sense 
 within the range of the effects of external objects, or to 
 remove them from those effects. It can bring a rose to 
 the nostril, or remove it out of the way, or it can go 
 forth to the garden and smell it there ; or go where its 
 odour cannot reach. By means of that beautiful me- 
 chanism, also, by which the head is attached to the body, 
 it can turn those organs which are situated in the head 
 into the most favourable positions for being affected by 
 their respective objects of sense. Besides the motions 
 of the head, the eye — which requires more rapidity and 
 more precision in its movements than the power of 
 motion in the head furnishes — is provided with a me- 
 chanism of its own for turning it towards any object 
 from which the mind desires to receive sensations, with 
 the utmost conceivable promptitude and exactness, and 
 also for closing it against any object from which the 
 mind desires to avoid receiving sensations. The mind 
 has thus some choice, although very limited, in the suc- 
 cession of its sensations. 
 
 2. The other modification of sensation occasioned by 
 its altered circumstances is, that its sensations come to 
 be regarded almost exclusively as the signs of the pre- 
 sence, the positions, and the qualities of external objects. 
 Those Jaws which we found to regulate our attention to 
 sensations continue still to operate; but in a vast majority 
 of cases the attention does not rest on the sensation 
 itself, but is carried forward to the external object that 
 causes it. This follows of necessity from its discovery 
 that sensations are caused by external objects, and also 
 from the power which it has acquired of choosing its 
 sensations — obtaining those that are pleasant, and avoid- 
 ing those that are painful. Its general history, there- 
 fore, in regard to sensation, comes to be that its attention 
 
90 MEMORY, AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 
 
 is usually transferred from its sensations to its percep- 
 tions of external objects. That intensity of a sensation, 
 or its novelty, that drew the attention of the mind to the 
 sensation itself, now draws it to the outward object which 
 causes the sensation. When it experiences the sensation 
 of light, it thinks of the sun, or of the lamp, that causes 
 it. When it experiences the sensation of warmth, it 
 thinks of the fire from which it receives it. When it 
 hears the sound of a human voice, it thinks of the 
 person who utters it : the same law governing the atten- 
 tion in regard to the external object as that which 
 governed it in regard to the sensation itself, namely, 
 the intensity of the sensation, the novelty of it, or of 
 the object causing it, and the desire of examining it, or 
 the cause of it. 
 
 The attention to the pleasure or pain, also, of a sensa- 
 tion is generally transferred to the object causing it. 
 A child deriving pleasure from the taste of an apple, 
 immediately concentrates its delight on the apple which 
 was the cause of its pleasure ; and the sting of a bee 
 rivets the attention intensely on the little insect that 
 caused the pain. When pain cannot be referred to any 
 immediate cause, as in tooth-ache, the attention is fixed 
 on the sensation itself. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MEMORY, AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 
 
 Memory we found to be the aptitude of the mind for 
 having past sensations recalled to it, under the regula- 
 tion of certain laws called the laws of suggestion or 
 association ; and the sensations thus recalled we denomi- 
 nated, suggested or recalled or remembered sensations. 
 
 The new circumstances into which we have introduced 
 the mind extend the range of those laws of suggestion 
 
MEMOKY, AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 91 
 
 by which the remembrance of the past is regulated. 
 Sensation, either original or suggested, besides suggest- 
 ing former sensations original or suggested, suggests 
 external objects the existence and qualities of which 
 have been discovered by means of sensations. Those 
 perceptions of external objects, especially, which are 
 received by the sense of sight, being innumerable, extend 
 the range of memory in regard to the multiplicity of its 
 objects almost to infinity. 
 
 The principal laws of suggestion seem to be, resem- 
 blance, contrariety, contiguity of time or place, compre- 
 hension, and cause and effect. It is true that compre- 
 hension and cause and effect might he included in con- 
 tiguity, but we believe that comprehension and cause and 
 effect occasion suggestions which mere contiguity of time 
 or place would not suggest. 
 
 Objects that are alike, or regarded as alike in any par- 
 ticular, may suggest one another. Objects that are 
 observed to be dissimilar, or contrary to one another, 
 may also suggest each other. A very tall man may 
 either suggest the remembrance of another tall man, or 
 of a very short man. And this law extends to analogical 
 similarities or dissimilarities. Thus, the sight of one 
 royal palace may suggest one that had formerly been 
 seen, because they have both been the residence of kings. 
 Or a palace may suggest, by contrast, a miserable hut; or 
 the remembrance of a palace may suggest some of the 
 objects that were in it, or near it, when it was seen ; or 
 it may suggest the friend that was with us when we saw 
 it ; or it may suggest the sensations of heat or of cold, 
 of crowding and pressure which accompanied our seeing 
 it ; or, by analogy, it may suggest the noble mind of 
 some individual richly furnished with princely disposi- 
 tions and elegant accomplishments. Or, perhaps, more 
 naturally, such a person’s mind might suggest the 
 remembrance of a royal palace. 
 
 Contiguity of time or place is another common cause 
 
93 MEMOKY^ AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 
 
 of suggestion. We meet a person whom we have 
 formerly met in a particular city or house, and imme- 
 diately the city or the house arises to the view of our 
 remembrance. Many years ago, two individuals, whom 
 we well knew, were drowned at a particular spot in the 
 Frith of Clyde ; and we have never passed that spot, nor 
 thought of it, without remembering them. On the night 
 of the illumination of London for the Peace of Amiens, 
 there was a violent thunder-storm : we have never since 
 thought of the illumination without thinking of the 
 thunder-storm ; and have seldom witnessed a thunder- 
 storm without thinking of the storm in London, the 
 illumination and the Peace of Amiens. 
 
 Comprehension, that is, any whole may suggest its 
 parts, and vice versa. The thought of the class or order 
 of mammalia will suggest some of the genera or species 
 that belong to it ; or any animal or plant may suggest 
 the genus or class to which it belongs. 
 
 Cause and effect, also, almost always suggest one 
 another. A sultry day suggests the sun and the calm 
 state of the atmosphere as the causes of it ; and a bright 
 summer morning with a calm atmosphere, suggest a 
 sultry day to follow. An explosion suggests the idea of 
 the gunpowder that caused it ; or the sight, or smell, or 
 remembrance of gunpowder, suggests the idea of explosion 
 that might be caused by it. 
 
 As it is with the suggestions of sensations, so it is 
 with the suggestions of external objects, that some 
 minds are more under the influence of one law of 
 suggestion, and other minds more under the influence 
 of another law. The thoughts of naturalists flow mostly 
 in the channel of differences and resemblances ; of poets, 
 in that of analogical resemblances; of wits, in that of 
 analogical differences or contrarieties ; and of plain 
 historical men, in the kindred channels of contiguity of 
 time, and contiguity of place ; and of philosophical men, 
 in that of cause and effect. These different tendencies 
 
MEMORY, AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 93 
 
 may originate in differences of constitution in body or 
 mind, as phrenologists teach, and may be indicated by the 
 conformation of the skull ; but they are influenced to a 
 certain extent by such causes as health or sickness, 
 circumstances tending to produce cheerfulness or sad- 
 ness, education, and habit. 
 
 When objects are recalled, they are recalled, as we 
 found sensations were, with the pain or the pleasure, of 
 whatever kind, that originally accompanied the perception 
 of them. A person who has been scalded with boiling 
 water, will ever after shrink at the sight of boiling water 
 in a position in which it might fall upon him. A burnt 
 child dreads the fire, because the sight of fire recals to 
 him the pain of burning. But that pain or pleasure 
 follows also that law of the remembrance of sensations, 
 by which it becomes more faint on every succeeding 
 suggestion of the object that occasioned it. 
 
 As it is in recalling sensations, so it is in recalling 
 perceptions, that the more frequently the perception of 
 one object recals another, or the more frequently the 
 remembrance of one object recals another, the more 
 certainly and the more promptly will the suggestion take 
 place. A fine example of this law we have in learning 
 languages. Certain sounds are connected with certain 
 objects by contiguity of time ; the sound is pronounced 
 at the same time that the object is perceived ; it may 
 require several repetitions of the sound in connection 
 with the object, to render the suggestion prompt and 
 certain ; but, by frequent repetition, the suggestion 
 becomes so certain and so immediate, that we almost 
 forget that it is a suggestion. When one language is 
 learned by the immediate connection of its sounds with 
 the objects intended to be suggested by them, other 
 languages may be learned by connecting the sounds of 
 the two languages. But a language thus learned can 
 never be learned so perfectly, as that which is learned 
 by directly connecting the sounds with the objects. It 
 
94 MEMORY, AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 
 
 has two suggestions to traverse before it arrives at its 
 end, namely, the sounds of the second language sug- 
 gesting those of the first, and the sounds of the first 
 suggesting the objects indicated by them. Hence a 
 language can never be perfectly learned but by residing 
 for a time in a country where it is vernacular. 
 
 Another law of suggestion is illustrated in the acquisi- 
 tion of languages, namely, that sensations or perceptions 
 suggesting one another in a particular order, may suggest 
 one another in that order certainly and promptly ; but 
 very imperfectly, or not at all, in any other order. One 
 who has learned a foreign language by translating it 
 into his own, but who has not equally practised trans- 
 lating from his own into the foreign language, may 
 readily understand what he reads or hears in the foreign 
 language, and yet may not be able to express a single 
 sentence in it. The words which may be perfectly 
 familiar to him when he reads or hears them, may not 
 occur to him in the reverse order of the suggestion from 
 his own language to the foreign language. This is but 
 another form of the fact formerly noticed, that we ma}'' 
 be familiar with a tune and yet not be able to sing or 
 recognise any two notes of it backward. 
 
 Another beautiful example of the law of suggestion is 
 to be found in the facility, attained by practice, of reading 
 and understanding, and also of writing written language, 
 certain visible marks are connected with certain sounds, 
 and these sounds with certain sensations or perceptions, 
 or relations of sensations and perceptions. Yet this 
 double order of suggestions is made by repetition with 
 so much certainty and promptitude, that we collect the 
 sense of what is written almost as rapidly as the eye can 
 run along the lines of a page. Perhaps a still more 
 striking example of this law is the certainty and rapidity 
 with which musical notation is understood, and the 
 sounds indicated by it produced ; for here there is fre- 
 quently, as in organ and piano-forte playing, a succession. 
 
MEMOKY, AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 95 
 
 not of single notes merely indicating single sounds, but 
 a succession of two, three, four, nay, eight or ten notes, 
 indicating so many sounds that are to be produced at 
 once, and these groups following one another in rapid 
 succession. Yet so perfectly may the connection of the 
 visible marks with the sounds that they indicate, and 
 these with the muscular movements that are required to 
 produce them, become, by repetition, that the performer 
 produces the sounds in all their multiplicity and variety 
 and rapidity with unerring certainty ; and not only so, 
 but perhaps may, while he is producing them, be con- 
 versing with some person on other subjects. This 
 phenomenon has been called mechanical; but, as we 
 have already hinted, we regard the word mechanical 
 used in such a connection as unintelligible. No known 
 mechanical law would advance us one step in our endea- 
 vours to explain the phenomenon. It is, we believe, a 
 purely mental phenomenon, combined with the perfect 
 command which the mind possesses over the voluntary 
 motions of the body; and is the operation of that law of 
 suggestion which we are endeavouring to illustrate. 
 
 Although the mind, in consequence of its advanced 
 condition, has obtained no direct control over its sug- 
 gestions, yet it has obtained an indirect control over 
 them, similar to that which it has acquired over its 
 perceptions, by its power over the body. It, in various 
 ways, can bring itself into favourable circumstances for 
 avoiding painful recollections, and recalling such percep- 
 tions and remembrances as are pleasant. When the 
 pain of the remembrances is very intense, no means that 
 it can adopt will certainly be effectual for excluding 
 them. On the contrary, the very effort that is made to 
 avoid the dreaded remembrance may become the means 
 of recalling it. But, when no strong emotion is impli- 
 cated in the remembrance, the mind, by its power over 
 the body, can do much towards regulating its trains of 
 thought. It may bring itself into situations where other 
 
96 MEMORY, AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 
 
 former situations and perceptions are naturally suggested, 
 — it may by conversing on other subjects, or listening 
 to such conversation, by reading, or engaging in other 
 occupations interesting to it, contrive if not to banish 
 the painful remembrance which it would avoid, render 
 its recurrence less frequent, and have its thoughts occu- 
 pied by subjects calculated to afford pleasure. 
 
 As we found it to be in the suggestions of sensations, 
 so it is in the suggestions of perceptions that these latter 
 suggestions necessarily imply the discernment of resem- 
 blances and differences among the objects, the percep- 
 tions of which are recalled % suggestion. Were no 
 differences or similarities observed, the laws of sugges- 
 tion could have no place. Now, in the extension of the 
 laws of suggestion from sensations to perceptions of 
 external objects, the range of discrimination is im- 
 mensely widened. Multitudes of sensations which 
 have become indifferent, and cause neither pleasure nor 
 pain, and the differences and resemblances of which 
 would consequently pass unheeded, excite interest, and 
 their resemblances and differences command the most 
 earnest attention, as soon as it is discovered that they 
 are the signs of external objects, indicating their pre- 
 sence, their qualities, or their position. The most 
 minute difference in any two sensations, of not the 
 slightest importance on account of any pleasure or pain 
 occasioned by either, yet indicates some difference in the 
 two objects which cause the sensation. Nay, a very 
 minute, hardly perceptible difference between two sen- 
 sations may indicate important differences in the objects 
 from which they proceed. Many a plant or seed, fit for 
 food, is distinguished by very minute differences of sen- 
 sation from poisonous plants or seeds. What seems to 
 be the rumbling of a cart in the streets may be a peal 
 of thunder. A faint sound, that could scarcely be dis- 
 tinguished from a gentle tap on the table, may be the 
 indication of a distant and approaching cannonade. 
 
MEMOET, AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 97 
 
 The most practised eye sometimes finds it difficult to 
 distinguish a cloud from distant land. One of the great 
 lessons of life, which 'we never fully master, is to be 
 able to recognise the same objects in different positions 
 at different distances, and with different concomitants, 
 and to distinguish them accurately from different objects. 
 And yet how much often depends on such accurate dis- 
 crimination ! How much is a diamond like an imitation 
 of it in paste ; and yet how important to a dealer in 
 precious stones to be able accurately and certainly to 
 distinguish it ! The various kinds and degrees of resem- 
 blances and differences in objects, which are indicated by 
 differences and resemblances in the sensations occasioned 
 by them, are innumerable ; and anyone observed differ- 
 ence may be an indication of the existence of other 
 differences which have not yet been discovered. Sir 
 Isaac Newton conjectured, from the power of the diamond 
 to refract light, that it was a combustible substance. 
 And not only has this conjecture been confirmed, but 
 it has been found that, while such precious stones as 
 rock crystal, topaz, and others, are connected with silex, 
 and the sapphire and ruby are nearly pure clay, the 
 diamond is carbon, of the nature of coal and wood, is 
 connected with marble, and even with the fumes that 
 rise from fermenting liquors. 
 
 The accurate discrimination, therefore, of the resem- 
 blances and differences among our sensations as indi- 
 cating differences and resemblances in the objects that 
 cause them, is so important, that the ingenuity of man 
 has brought to the help of the senses various instruments 
 adapted to aid in various kinds of scrutiny. Hence we 
 have optical instruments of all kinds, microscopes for 
 scrutinising small objects, telescopes for examining 
 distant objects, instruments for measuring distances, 
 magnitudes, weights, specific gravities, angles, tempe- 
 ratures, motions, effects on other objects, as attractions, 
 repulsions, refractions, reflections, and innumerable 
 
98 MEMORY, AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 
 
 others, by the aid of which the various realms of nature are 
 explored, and every object organised or unorganised, ani- 
 mate or inanimate, is scrutinised and tested, and its rela- 
 tions to other objects carefully and accurately determined. 
 
 We now again come to that law to which, when 
 treating of sensations, apart from perceptions, we called 
 particular attention as laying the foundation of many 
 important phenomena, — namely, that by which in the 
 repetition of sensations, or the remembrances of them, 
 the pain or pleasure of them gradually subsides, while the 
 mind becomes more perfectly acquainted with them, and 
 with the resemblances and differences which exist among 
 them. The same law we find in force when the attention 
 is drawn from the sensation to the external object of 
 which it has become the index. Here, as in the case of 
 sensations, the discovery of every new object is pleasant 
 or painful. We should rather say, the discovery of 
 every new object — that is, the discovery of novelty in 
 any object, gives pleasure, except when some painful 
 sensation or suggestion may accompany the discovery. 
 By the repetition of such perceptions, or remembrances 
 of them, the pleasure experienced on the first perception 
 of them gradually subsides into indifference. If they at 
 first afforded great pleasure, the descent towards indif- 
 ference is slower, but equally certain. And after be- 
 coming indifferent, if frequently repeated, they become 
 disagreeable ; but may, on a continued repetition, rise 
 again to indifference. We do not here, of course, 
 include those objects which are ever varying and ever 
 exhibiting something new. These continue to give 
 pleasure so long as their powers of producing variety 
 are unexhausted ; but when that takes place, they too 
 cease to please. A musical box which performs one 
 fine piece of music with neatness and accuracy pleases, 
 till we become familiar with its succession of pleasant 
 sounds, and then it palls upon our ear. If it perform 
 
MEMORY, AS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 99 
 
 two pieces, it pleases longer ; if six or eight, still longer. 
 Not, however, to an indefinite extent, or in proportion 
 to the number of pieces it performs ; for there is a 
 sameness in the sounds of such an instrument, for which, 
 beautiful as they may be, no diversity in the pieces 
 performed by it can compensate, and we become tired of 
 the tinkling sound, without stopping to consider whether 
 the piece that it performs be the same that we have 
 heard before, or a different one. The history of the 
 effect of such an instrument on the mind, if we were at 
 first much delighted with it, is that we gradually become 
 indifferent to it ; if it continue to be set a-going in our 
 presence, we are annoyed with it. The few first tones 
 of any of its performances excite a mixed feeling of 
 ridicule and disgust. If, however, the performance 
 continue, like the musical bells of a clock, at stated 
 times, our disgust itself follows the general law, and 
 passes away, and we scarcely hear the sounds of it, 
 unless our attention be particularly called to them. The 
 great defect in all such instruments is that they are not 
 the expression of any emotion in a living feeling per- 
 former, but mere pieces of dead mechanism, so contrived 
 as to mimic the expression of feeling. We may have 
 occasion to return to the subject. A stranger visiting, 
 for the first time, such a scene as the Falls of Niagara 
 is overwhelmed with astonishment and awe ; but those 
 who have resided for some years in the neighbourhood 
 of the Falls pass and repass them with the most perfect 
 indifference, except when some unfortunate animal or 
 fellow-man being involved in the eddying torrent may 
 give to them a new and momentary interest. 
 
 But while the pleasure or the pain which accompanied 
 the first perception of any object gradually fades on 
 repeated subsequent perceptions or remembrances of it, 
 these repeated perceptions bring the mind into more 
 exact acquaintance with it, and with its relations to other 
 objects. Here we have the elements of our perceptions 
 
100 EMOTIONS DEPENDING ON PERCEPTION. 
 
 as of our sensations, namely, the distinctive charac- 
 teristics, and' the pleasure or pain excited by them 
 separating immediately after the first perception, and 
 taking different directions, — the one becoming more 
 perfectly discerned, and occupying more of the current 
 of thought ; the other vanishing away. But here, again, 
 we find a noble compensation for the loss of the pleasure 
 of a first perception, in the pleasure which the extended 
 power of discrimination affords. The pleasure derived 
 from the perception of the isolated object is soon gone ; 
 but the observation of its resemblances to other objects, 
 and differences from them, may afford a thousand plea- 
 sures, succeeding one another as one and another resem- 
 blance or difference is discovered, till its precise place 
 in relation to other objects is determined. 
 
 This observation brings us to the great division of 
 subsequent mental phenomena dependent on the per- 
 ception of external objects, namely, the emotional and 
 intellectual. 
 
 CHAPTEB VII. 
 
 EMOTIONS DEPENDING ON PERCEPTION. 
 
 We must request the reader to look back on what we 
 have advanced on emotions as connected with sensations, 
 and the memory of them. As our first duty must be to 
 mark the modifications of these emotions occasioned by 
 the power of the mind over a body, its discovery of an 
 external world, and of the relation of cause and effect, 
 and then to consider what new emotions its altered 
 circumstances may elicit. 
 
 The emotions excited by pleasant or painful sensa- 
 tions will now be generally directed to those external 
 objects which the mind has discovered to be the causes 
 of them. We naturally are pleased with the presence 
 of that which causes pleasant sensations, and displeased 
 
EMOTIONS DEPENDING ON PERCEPTION. 
 
 101 
 
 with that which causes painful ones, with an intensity 
 proportioned to the pleasure imparted and the pain 
 inflicted. 
 
 Any object, the presence of which causes unpleasant 
 or painful sensations, is regarded with dislike or disgust, 
 while objects which yield pleasant sensations are regarded 
 with an emotion approaching to love; hut love, and its 
 opposite, hatred, can scarcely he used with propriety as 
 having for their objects external things without mind. 
 We shall, therefore, reserve the consideration of love 
 and hatred, and their modifications, to a future stage of 
 our investigations. 
 
 After receiving pleasure from the presence of any 
 object of perception, the mind naturally desires the 
 repetition of its presence, for the same reason that it 
 desires the repetition of the pleasant sensation; and 
 after experiencing pain from the presence of any object, 
 it as naturally has an aversion to the renewal of its 
 presence. 
 
 If a series of events among external objects repeatedly 
 end in the presence of any object that affords pleasure, 
 then the commencement of that series will excite ho]r}e 
 more or less confident, as before, in proportion to the 
 familiarity of the mind with the series, and more or less 
 ardent in proportion to the amount of pleasure in which 
 the series has on former occasions ended. And a series 
 of events repeatedly ending in the presence of an object 
 causing pain would, on its commencing again, excite 
 fear. 
 
 If a series of events among external objects causing 
 pain repeatedly end in pleasure, then the pain of the 
 series will be greatly mitigated by the anticipation of 
 the expected pleasure ; and a series of events, pleasing 
 while it lasts, but always ending in pain, will have the 
 pleasure afforded by it poisoned by the vivid suggestion 
 and anticipation of the pain in which the series is expected 
 to end. 
 
102 EMOTIONS DEPENDING ON PERCEPTION. 
 
 If a series of events or changes among external objects 
 which, on former occasions, has ended in pleasure, should 
 commence, but be broken off before it comes to the 
 expected conclusion, the effect would be disappointment 
 and sadness. If the series on former occasions ended in 
 pain, its being broken off before the expected painful 
 conclusion would excite agreeable disappointment and 
 joy. If a series which had on former occasions ended in 
 pain not only be broken off, but end in pleasure, or the 
 series that had ended in pleasure end in pain, then the 
 unexpected pleasure would be heightened by surprise as 
 at a novelty, and the unexpected pain by wonder and 
 painful perplexity. 
 
 Besides these modifications of those emotions of 
 which a mind conversant only with sensations would be 
 capable, occasioned by its possessing the perception of 
 objects external to itself, it becomes capable of many 
 new emotions. Most of these imply the recognition of 
 other minds, similar to itself, and therefore few will 
 come to be treated of afterwards. The following, how- 
 ever, belong to the present stage of our progress. 
 
 The power which the mind possesses over the body, 
 by which it can avoid painful sensations, or obtain 
 pleasant sensations, either by moving the body out of 
 the presence or into the presence of other objects, or by 
 moving them into its presence or out of its presence, 
 gives rise to some important emotions. If, for example, 
 the mind may have power to avoid the presence of an 
 object which it knows would cause pain, and yet may 
 have motives for-rather bearing the pain, the emotion 
 resulting from these conflicting motives may be patience, 
 fortitude, resolution, determination, according to the 
 amount of pain which it might avoid, but which it chooses 
 to bear ; or impatience, timidity, cowardice, according to 
 the amount of pain and the motives which it has to bear 
 it, but which it chooses to avoid. 
 
 From the notion which the mind has received of cause 
 
EMOTIONS CONNECTED WITH PERCEPTION. 103 
 
 and effect, combined with that of^the external world, are 
 derived such emotions as self-gratulation, on reflecting 
 on pain that it has avoided and pleasure that it has 
 obtained by its own efforts ; and regret and self- 
 upbraiding, in reflecting on pain that it has suffered, 
 or pleasure that it has missed by its own want of effort. 
 
 The influence of language on emotions connected 
 with perception. 
 
 Here seems to be the point at which to introduce 
 some notice of the influence of language on the mind. 
 The reader will please to notice that we are not tracing 
 the influence of language historically^ nor has any part 
 of our investigation been conducted historically. We do 
 not imagine that the mind was experienced in sensations 
 and those emotions that are dependent on them, and the 
 discrimination and inferences exercised on sensations, 
 before it attained to the power of volition, and the 
 knowledge of objects external to itself, and the various 
 emotions thence arising; for we are aware that its 
 knowledge derived from every source, and the experience 
 of its emotions of every kind was proceeding from the 
 hour of its introduction to the world simultaneously. 
 But we have separated sensations, and the exercises 
 of mind dependent on them, from perceptions and 
 the exercises of mind dependent on them, and have 
 examined them consecutively merely that we might 
 the better discern their nature, their dependencies 
 and influences on one another. So, were we to trace 
 the origin and progress of language historically, we 
 should probably commence with its use in communicating 
 our thoughts to one another; but, in our order of 
 demonstration, we find, at the point at which we have 
 arrived, — namely, our power over the voluntary motions 
 of the body, the perception of objects external to our- 
 selves, and the emotions that are connected with that 
 
104 • EMOTIONS CONNECTED WITH PEECEPTION. 
 
 power and these perceptions, — that language exercises 
 important influences. 
 
 Language has manifestly great power in regulating 
 the succession of our suggestions, and consequently in 
 directing the whole train of our thoughts. The names 
 of objects or of events or relations are certain sounds 
 voluntarily produced, arbitrarily connected with these 
 objects, or events or relations, by the frequent repetition 
 of the sound with the direct perception of that with 
 which it is intended to be connected or with the remem- 
 brance of it. Now, by the laws of suggestion already 
 explained, the hearing of the name of any object, or 
 event, or relation, or the remembrance of the name, 
 instantly recals that of which it is used as the name. 
 And if that which is thus recalled by means of its name 
 be one that has given pleasure or pain, or has awakened 
 any emotion, then the mention or remembrance of the 
 name recals the pleasure or pain, or the emotion origin- 
 ally occasioned by it. The use of language thus intro- 
 duces a new application, and consequently a great 
 extension of the laws of suggestion. For words suggest 
 one another, on the same principles with other objects — 
 by similarity or dissimilarity, by beginning alike or 
 unlike, or ending alike or unlike — long words sometimes 
 suggesting long words, or by contrast short w’ords, and 
 short words suggesting either short or long words ; and 
 all these words immediately suggesting the things of 
 which they stand as the names, thus widening the 
 power of suggestion, — that is, of memory, — to an 
 incalculable extent. 
 
 It scarcely needs to be added, that the use of written 
 language produces these same effects with spoken lan- 
 guage. Written language, at least in all countries that 
 we are acquainted with, (except, perhaps, China, and 
 its dependencies and the neighbouring countries under 
 its influence) consists of arbitrary, visible, or tangible 
 marks, on any substance capable of receiving them, so 
 connected with the arbitrary sounds of spoken Ian- 
 
EMOTIONS CONNECTED WITH PEKCEPTION. 105 
 
 guage, by frequently repeating these sounds along with 
 the perception of the written marks, so that the written 
 mark introduced to the notice or attention of the mind 
 instantly recals the sound with which it is associated, and 
 the sound as instantly recals the object of which it is used 
 as the name. It is evident, therefore, that the effects of 
 written language in directing the thoughts, must be much 
 the same as those of spoken language. The written lan- 
 guage of China, and the neighbouring countries, is said 
 not to suggest sounds, but objects. How far this is 
 practically the fact — that is, how far the reading of the 
 Chinese written language can be understood without the 
 medium of the spoken language, we have no data on 
 which to form a judgment. It might be an interesting 
 topic of philosophical inquiry, how far the nature of 
 their written language distinguishes the current of their 
 suggestions, and, consequently, the general character of 
 their minds, from those nations which use written 
 characters representative of sounds. 
 
 Written language gives to the mind much greater 
 power over the current of its thoughts than spoken 
 language. The effect of spoken language, if confined 
 to the person himself who uses it, which is supposed to 
 be the state of the mind as we are now contemplating 
 it, in giving pov/er to the will over the trains of thought, 
 would be extremely limited; whereas, by means of 
 the power which the mind possesses over the body, it 
 can direct its thoughts into any train of which it pos- 
 sesses a record in written language. If it desires to 
 have its thoughts directed to any particular subject, or 
 led into any particular course, it has, in order to obtain 
 its object, only to select a book, or other record of 
 thoughts on the subject, and direct the eye to its 
 pages. This may not always be effectual, for the thoughts 
 may be carried off in some other direction, in despite 
 of every such effort to control them, but in ordinary 
 cases it will be found to be effectual. 
 
106 OPERATIONS DEPENDING ON PERCEPTION. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE INTEDLECTUAL POWERS OR OPERATIONS 
 DEPENDING ON PERCEPTION. 
 
 The discriminating faculty of the mind, or its power 
 of noticing the resemblances and differences of its sen- 
 sations, being now extended to the resemblances and 
 differences of the objects which are the causes of its 
 sensations, it is chiefly occupied with these latter resem- 
 blances and differences. 
 
 One cause of its attention being drawn from the 
 resemblances and differences among its sensations, to 
 the resemblances and differences among the objects 
 which are the causes of its sensations, is, that its 
 acquaintance with the qualities of those objects by which 
 its sensations are excited, aids it in obtaining some control 
 over its sensations. For when it knows what objects 
 cause agreeable, and what objects cause disagreeable 
 sensations, it can employ that power which it possesses 
 over the body in obtaining the one, and avoiding the 
 other. 
 
 But another, and perhaps the chief cause of the 
 mind’s occupying itself more with the differences and 
 resemblances among external objects when it becomes 
 acquainted with them, than with the differences and 
 resemblances among its own sensations, is, that the 
 observation of the differences and resemblances among 
 external objects opens a way for it to obtain much 
 interesting knowledge respecting these objects. These 
 various qualities and combinations of qualities in different 
 objects, indicated by their resemblances and differences, 
 such as the resemblances and differences in their produc- 
 tion, structure, and composition (if they be organised 
 bodies,) between their modes of life, growth, and the 
 
CLASSIFICATION OF EXTERNAL OBJECTS. 107 
 
 relations in which, they stand to one another, afford high 
 gratification. And according to the law already explained, 
 while the first pleasure derived from the observation of a 
 similarity or difference soon fades away, the observation of 
 every new similarity or difference, and every further dis- 
 covery made by the means of such observations, affords 
 a new pleasure. The power of discerning these resem- 
 blances and differences has sometimes been treated as a 
 distinct power of the mind and termed ahstraction. But 
 it seems to be nothing more than the direction of the 
 attention to one sensation, among many excited by the 
 same external objects. An object on being presented to 
 the senses, causes sensations that come by experience 
 to indicate its form, size, hardness, softness, warmth, or 
 cold, number of parts, colour, smell, taste, and such 
 like. The attention of the mind may be directed to 
 any one of these sensations, or to the qualities indicated 
 by them, and may compare it with the memory of sensa- 
 tions which it has received from other external objects, 
 or with their qualities, and may determine that it is 
 similar to them, or different from them, in some more 
 or fewer of these qualities. This process leads to 
 
 The classification of external material objects. 
 
 The discernment of resemblances and differences 
 among external objects gives rise to classification. We 
 naturally, for the purpose of rendering our knowledge of 
 the qualities of objects, and of their mutual resemblances 
 and differences more easily remembered, and more avail- 
 able for use, class those together, which we observe to 
 resemble one another. From our early childhood we 
 form such classes. We class all stones together from 
 their hardness and weight, all green plants, all trees, all 
 quadrupeds, all birds, all insects, all fishes. By and 
 by, we become more minute in our classification, and 
 class together all dogs, all sheep, all ducks, all geese, all 
 
108 
 
 INDUCTION ON EXTEBNAL OBJECTS. 
 
 cocks and hens, all people, all men, all women — and so 
 on to the utmost range of our knowledge. As our 
 knowledge increases, our classification becomes still 
 more minute, till we discriminate multitudes of kinds 
 of stones, many thousands of different species of plants 
 and of animals, the individuals of each species re- 
 sembling one another in certain points, in which they 
 differ from the individuals of other species. Natural 
 history, in all its various branches, consists chiefly of 
 classification, founded on the exact observation of resem- 
 blances and differences among the infinite multitude of 
 external objects. 
 
 As the acquirements of knowledge increase, the 
 thoughts themselves or operations of the mind, founded 
 on perception are classed. The knowledge of number, 
 form, and measurement of material objects, is called 
 mathematics. The knowledge of actually existing objects 
 generally forms the class of natural history, divided into 
 the subordinate classes of mineralogy, botany, zoology, 
 &c. The knowledge of the principles on which these 
 various kinds of objects are governed forms the class of 
 natural philosophy, subdivided into the subordinate 
 classes of astronomy, geology, animal and vegetable phy- 
 siology, and others. The knowledge of the mind itself 
 forms the class of mental philosophy, including in it 
 metaphysics, logic, ethics, &c. 
 
 Induction, as exercised on external material objects. 
 
 Induction, or inference, is founded on that confident 
 expectation which we have found to be intuitive, or at 
 least to manifest itself almost immediately after birth, 
 namely, that the same antecedents will be followed by the 
 same consequents. We observe, that when two particular 
 substances are brought into contact, they become hot, 
 and give out light, and smoke — they take fire ; and we 
 confidently infer or expect that the same two substances 
 
INDUCTION ON EXTEENAL OBJECTS. 
 
 109 
 
 brought together under the same circumstances, will 
 always exhibit the same phenomena. If we observe 
 two substances, when brought within a certain distance 
 of one another, draw nearer, till, if they be not forcibly 
 prevented, they come into contact, we infer that if the 
 same two substances, or substances of precisely the same 
 kind, be brought within the same distance, the same 
 result will take place. We call this result attraction, 
 and expect that the same substances will always attract 
 one another under the same circumstances ; and these 
 phenomena are regarded as antecedents and consequents, 
 that have stood so connected with one another in all 
 times and places, and that will continue to be so as long 
 as the present constitution of things endures, or, in other 
 words, as long as substances exist having the same 
 qualities. 
 
 Inductive philosophy adds to such inferences classifi- 
 cation. Antecedents and consequents being observed are 
 classified by observing their resemblances and differences. 
 It had, for example, been observed by long and minute 
 observation, that the planet, Mars, revolves round the 
 sun in an elliptical orbit, of which the sun occupies one 
 of the foci, and that his motion varies in velocity in 
 different parts of his orbit, according to a certain law. 
 It was then found by mathematical demonstration, that 
 his revolution would be accounted for by supposing him 
 to be drawn towards the sun with a certain force, and 
 having at the same time a certain velocity given to him 
 in a certain direction. It was thus rendered probable 
 that Mars was drawn towards the sun with the supposed 
 force. But it was found that the motions of all the 
 planets, according to their several distances from the sun, 
 would be accounted for on the same hypothesis, namely, 
 that they were drawn towards the sun with forces vary- 
 ing with their distances, having, at the same time, a 
 certain velocity communicated to them in another given 
 direction. The same hypothesis was applied to the 
 
110 
 
 INDUCTION ON EXTERNAL OBJECTS. 
 
 earth, and was found to account for the phenomena of its 
 motion ; and this discovery was confirmed by exactly ob- 
 serving the angular breadth of the sun’s disc at various 
 parts of the earth’s orbit, showing that she too moved in 
 an elliptical orbit, of which the sun occupied one of the 
 foci. The motions of all the planets round the sun were 
 classed together by these resemblances. But the moon 
 was found to revolve round the earth in an elliptical 
 orbit, with the earth in one of the foci. Do the moon 
 and the earth attract one another, as the sun and the 
 planets do ? This hypothesis was found exactly to 
 account for the phenomena of the moon’s motion. Then, 
 it having been observed, that several of the planets are 
 accompanied by satellites, as the earth is by the moon — 
 Are these satellites attracted towards their respective 
 planets, as the moon is towards the earth ? This hypo- 
 thesis also was confirmed by observing the motions of 
 these satellites. But still further, it is found that if 
 any heavy substance be lifted up from the ground, and 
 left at liberty, it falls to the earth with a force regulated 
 by certain laws. Is that tendency to fall to the earth 
 the same force of attraction which draws the moon 
 towards the earth ? That hypothesis was also found to 
 account for all the phenomena of falling bodies ; and 
 therefore the power which brings a stone to the ground, 
 which keeps the moon in her orbit round the earth, the 
 satellites of the planets in their orbits, and the planets 
 in their orbits round the sun, are all classed as pheno- 
 mena of the same kind, and called the attraction of 
 gravitation. We may proceed further ; and remembering 
 that our own bodies are drawn towards the earth, which 
 tendency is their weight, and that we are accustomed to 
 measure many things by weight, — Has that weight any 
 resemblance to the attraction of the sun, the planets, 
 and their satellites ? It is manifestly of the same nature 
 with that power which brings a stone to the ground, which 
 is its weight ; but that is the same which draws the 
 
REASONING ON EXTERNAL OBJECTS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 moon towards the earth, and the planets towards the 
 sun. So that v^hen a poor woman weighs out a pound 
 of butter to sell it to a neighbour, she is availing herself 
 of the same power which keeps the whole solar system 
 in order, and which probably exerts its influence far 
 beyond the limits of that system. 
 
 Reasoning as employed about external and material 
 objects. 
 
 Reasoning is that process by which we discover 
 resemblances or differences between phenomena which 
 we cannot discover by direct comparison ; or it is that 
 process by which we prove to others that there are 
 resemblances and differences between objects or phe- 
 nomena of which they were not aware. It is founded 
 on this proposition, which, although not intuitive, is so 
 simple and evident as to need no proof, and to be capable 
 of none, because no proposition can be found more 
 evident than itself, — namely, that things which are like 
 the same thing in any particular are like one another in 
 that particular. Reasoning, therefore, is not an opera- 
 tion of the mind by which it discovers objects or pheno- 
 mena previously unknown, but by which it classes 
 objects or phenomena already known. The process 
 consists in selecting some object or phenomenon which 
 resembles those which we are examining in the same 
 particulars, by which process the more distant pheno- 
 mena are brought into comparison with one another, 
 their similarity in that particular ascertained, and conse- 
 quently their class determined. For example, I wish 
 to ascertain whether there be any such resemblance 
 between lightning and magnetic attraction as would 
 warrant us to arrange them in the same class of pheno- 
 mena. No two classes of phenomena could appear at 
 first sight more dissimilar than the phenomena of the 
 lightning of heaven, on the one hand,— its flash of light, 
 
112 
 
 KEASONINa ON EXTEENAL OBJECTS. 
 
 the noise with which the flash is accompanied, and the 
 destructive power which it exhibits, — and, on the other, 
 the approach of two pieces of metal to one another 
 without light or heat or noise, or the point of the mag- 
 netic needle taking always the direction of north and 
 south. How can I bring them into comparison? I 
 remember that by the friction of certain substances 
 phenomena like those of lightning— the flash, the noise, 
 and the destructive power — are exhibited ; and also that, 
 by the same means, the substances subjected to friction 
 attract one another in the same manner as magnetic 
 substances do. These phenomena, elicited by the 
 friction of these certain substances, I call electrical ; 
 and I find that lightning belongs to the class of elec- 
 trical phenomena, on the one hand, and that magnetism 
 also belongs to the same class on the other. I, there- 
 fore, bring the two classes of phenomena — namely, 
 those of lightning and those of magnetic attraction — 
 into one higher class, namely, the class of electric phe- 
 nomena. In this I am confirmed by observing, on the 
 one hand, that clouds charged with lightning attract or 
 repel one another as magnetic bodies do ; and, on the 
 other, that by a powerful combination of magnetic 
 powers, flashes and shocks, like those of lightning, can 
 be produced. 
 
 Or, to take an example from mathematics, the science 
 of the measurement of matter and space, I wish to know 
 whether any relation exists between the areas of paral- 
 lelograms and of triangles, or to show that such a relation 
 exists, and what it is. I bethink myself of the diagonal 
 of a parallelogram, which divides it into two equal parts, 
 both of them triangles. I thus learn that in this case 
 the triangle is half the area of the parallelogram. But 
 is this true of parallelograms generally, that every 
 triangle is half of some parallelogram, and that every 
 parallelogram is double of some triangle ? The latter 
 inquiry is decided at once by remembering that every 
 
SYLLOGISTIC EEASONING. 
 
 113 
 
 parallelogram may be divided into two equal triangles 
 by a diagonal,— each of them, of course, half the area of 
 the parallelogram. To answer the former inquiry, I 
 examine the properties of parallelograms, and find that 
 if they be erected on the same, or an equal base, and be 
 of the same perpendicular height, their areas are equal. 
 I now have my answer in the affirmative ; for I have 
 only to assume one of the sides of any triangle as a 
 base, and construct upon it a parallelogram of the same 
 perpendicular height above that base with the triangle, 
 and I have a parallelogram of double the area of the 
 triangle. I then, by dividing a parallelogram into two 
 equal triangles, discover the relation of each of these 
 triangles to the parallelogram, and thus, by the help of 
 that relation, discover the general relation between all 
 parallelograms, — namely, that if they stand on equal 
 bases, and are of equal perpendicular heights, the 
 parallelogram is double of the triangle ; from which 
 follows, that if the base of the parallelogram be half 
 that of the triangle, and of the same perpendicular 
 height, or if on equal bases and half the perpendicular 
 height, the two figures are equal, and so of any other 
 proportion. 
 
 Syllogistic reasoning. 
 
 This also is a form of reasoning, that is, of comparing 
 two objects which cannot be brought into direct com- 
 parison, by comparing both with a third object. But it 
 adopts a peculiar method of finding that third object, or 
 middle term, to which the two others are to be compared. 
 It forms a class, or genus, consisting of all objects that 
 are similar to one another in certain particulars, to the 
 exclusion of all other objects. It then proceeds on the 
 principle, that whatever is characteristic of the class, or 
 genus, will be found in every species, or individual that 
 belongs to it, which must necessarily be true ; for if any 
 species, or individual, did not possess the characteristic 
 
114 
 
 SYLLOGISTIC REASONING. 
 
 of the class, it would not be ranked under it. The 
 middle term, therefore, in this mode of reasoning, is not 
 a third object, with which each of the others is to be 
 compared, but it consists of those particulars that 
 characterise the class ; and the point to he established 
 by the syllogism, is always that the object under dispute 
 or investigation does, or does not, belong to a certain 
 class previously defined or understood. 
 
 Syllogistic reasoning, therefore, is not an engine for 
 the discovery of phenomena, but merely (as all reasoning 
 is) an engine for arranging under classes or genera 
 phenomena previously known. The merits of syllogistic 
 reasoning have often been misrepresented and under- 
 rated by viewing it as a means of discovering truth, 
 which no intelligent logician pretends that it is. 
 Phenomena are to be discovered solely by observation and 
 induction ; all that reasoning on them does further, is to 
 ascertain their connections by arranging them into genera, 
 species, and other divisions used in classification. 
 
 But some zealous Aristotelians assert that all reasoning 
 must proceed by syllogism expressed or implied. This 
 assertion, we apprehend, must be received with modifi- 
 cations and limitations. We doubt not that all absolute 
 demonstration may be reduced to syllogism ; for reasoning 
 correctly by syllogism cannot but be infallible. If the 
 class or genus that forms the subject of the major 
 premiss be accurately defined, so that whatsoever possesses 
 its characteristic attributes is included in it, and nothing 
 else ; and if it be ascertained that the object under 
 examination, that is the subject of the minor premiss, 
 possesses, or does not possess these characteristic attri- 
 butes, then the conclusion infallibly and demonstrably 
 follows that it belongs to the class in the one case, and 
 does not belong to it in the other. Whereas, by a mere 
 direct comparison of objects, sufficient evidence may be 
 obtained to command belief ; but no infallible demon- 
 stration can be attained. 
 
SYLLOGISTIC EEASONING. 
 
 115 
 
 But much important reasoning on every subject except 
 pure mathematics is necessarily carried on that never 
 aims at demonstration ; indeed the greater part of our 
 reasoning is of this kind. It would put an end to 
 almost all practical reasoning to require the reasoners to 
 begin by accurately defining genera and species. Suppose, 
 for example, the object of inquiry, or of proof, is whether 
 zoophytes be animals or plants. To treat the subject 
 syllogistically, so as to arrive at certainty, the inquirer 
 must commence by an accurate definition of what he 
 means by plants and what by animals. And having the 
 properties of the zoophyte in view, he might frame his 
 definition so as to include these properties, or to exclude 
 some of them. And thus one logician might prove it to 
 be a plant, and another logician might prove it, by a 
 syllogism equally conclusive, to be an animal. The 
 dispute, therefore, between them is the major term. 
 One says all animals have certain qualities or attributes ; 
 zoophytes have these qualities or attributes, therefore 
 zoophytes are animals. The other retorts, all vegetables 
 have such and such qualities, zoophytes have these 
 qualities, therefore zoophytes are vegetables. They 
 may then try what negatives will do. One says, no 
 vegetable has attributes such as voluntary motion, 
 zoophytes have voluntary motion, therefore zoophytes 
 are not vegetables. The other retorts, no animal is 
 fixed by a root to a particular spot, zoophytes are so 
 fixed, therefore they are not animals. Thus, by the 
 definitions that they adopt of animal and vegetable, they 
 may prove them first to be both animals and vegetables, 
 and then, with equal clearness, to be neither vegetables 
 nor animals. We say nothing of the disputing of the 
 facts stated on each hand, that is the minor premisses 
 of the syllogisms, namely, whether zoophytes have the 
 attributes alleged on either side ; for it is not the busi- 
 ness of reasoning to ascertain facts, but merely to class 
 them when ascertained. Naturalists, as it appears to 
 
116 
 
 SYLLOGISTIC KEASONING. 
 
 US, do not proceed by definitions and syllogisms to the 
 determination of this point ; but taking a general view 
 of the characteristics of plants and animals, and leaving 
 the definition of the classes animal and vegetable, to be 
 afterwards determined if necessary, and perhaps to be 
 modified by their very investigation of the nature of 
 zoophytes, they proceed directly to compare zoophytes 
 with animal properties on the one hand, and with vege- 
 table properties on the other, and so, upon the whole, to 
 form a mere opinion as to the class to which they should 
 be allotted. By the name which they have given them, 
 they confess their inability, in the present state of our 
 knowledge, to fix their class ; and the result may be that 
 some zoophytes may come to be regarded as animals 
 and some vegetables. 
 
 The Linnaean system of botany seems to be one which 
 might be reasoned out by syllogisms. As, for example, 
 all plants having so many pistils and so many stamens 
 belong to a certain class and order, all lilies have that 
 number of pistils and stamens, therefore lilies, &c. 
 The natural system seems scarcely to be susceptible of 
 definitions so accurate as to form the basis of syllogisms ; 
 but is formed by a direct comparison of each species 
 to several orders and genera approximating in their 
 general qualities, and the species is classed according to 
 its greater similarity in the most important attributes 
 with one genus rather than with any of the other 
 genera. 
 
 Or, let us look at our former example of comparing 
 lightning with magnetic attraction, by comparing each 
 with electrical phenomena. To proceed syllogistically, 
 the logician must begin by defining what precisely 
 he includes in the phenomena of lightning. In this 
 he will encounter some difficulty ; for if he include 
 light and heat, he will be in danger of including the 
 phenomena of combustion. If, to avoid this, he introduce 
 the notions of suddenness and violence, he would not so 
 
USE OF LANGUAGE IN INTELLECTUAL OPEBATIONS. 117 
 
 get rid of explosions, -whicli are sudden and violent. He 
 must also define what he means by the phenomena of 
 magnetism, in which he would also find difficulty, as he 
 might confound it in his definition with the attraction of 
 gravitation or of cohesion. He must also define his 
 middle term, electrical phenomena, and here he would 
 encounter fresh difficulties ; for if he included in it 
 friction, he would exclude the galvanic or voltaic phe- 
 nomena. But having got over these difficulties, he is 
 prepared to march to his conclusion with infallible 
 demonstrative certainty. Natural philosophers, however, 
 would find the necessity of constructing such definitions 
 as an intolerable hindrance to such inquiries. They, 
 therefore, compare the general phenomena of lightning 
 with those of electricity, and those of electricity wdth 
 those of magnetism ; and by observing the differences 
 between these different classes of phenomena and those 
 of combustion on the one hand, and those of gravitation 
 and cohesion on the other, they, without pretending to 
 demonstration, come to the opinion that lightning and 
 magnetic attraction proceed from the same cause. 
 Whether light, heat, combustion, gravitation, are or are 
 not to be ascribed to the same cause, they leave to be 
 determined by future discoveries of phenomena. 
 
 Eeasoning on subjects in which mind occurs among 
 the objects of it, will be noticed under a future division 
 of our work. 
 
 The use of language in intellectual operations respecting 
 external material objects. 
 
 We are not here to consider the use of language in 
 communicating thoughts to others, or informing other 
 minds, but to glance at its use in intellectual operations 
 which have for their objects sensations and perceptions. 
 
 In classification names assist us in regarding a class 
 as one defined whole, like an individual, different from 
 
118 USE OF LANGUAGE IN INTELLECTUAL OPERATIONS. 
 
 all other individuals. We class objects we have seen 
 by the resemblances indicated by the similarity of the 
 sensations which they excite, separating them from other 
 objects by their differences from them, indicated by the 
 differences of the sensations excited by them. But 
 without names for the classes, we should confound 
 objects belonging to different classes, as often as we 
 might observe resemblances between them, without 
 attending at the moment to their differences. But the 
 name of the class limits the attributes which characterise 
 it, or the objects which belong to it by possessing these 
 attributes, and enables us to recal the class without 
 difficulty, and present it before the mind as one whole, 
 of which the various objects that belong to it are parts, 
 or, (according to another view), of which the various 
 characteristic attributes of it are parts. The term 
 “ mammalia,” for example, immediately suggests those 
 animals that suckle their young as distinguished from 
 other classes of animals, such as birds, fishes, reptiles, 
 &c. ; or it suggests to us those attributes that charac- 
 terise the class of mammalia, as distinguished from other 
 classes of animals. The name presents the class to the 
 mind as one whole — an individual, and thus gives pre- 
 cision to our thoughts respecting it, and greatly aids us 
 in determining what animals belong to it. 
 
 So the name “attraction” recals a particular class of 
 phenomena as one whole, of which different kinds of 
 attraction, as the attraction of gravity, the attraction of 
 magnets, electrical attraction, are component parts, and 
 prepares us for separating these different kinds of 
 attraction, by their differences, into different classes, 
 and for reasoning upon them. 
 
 Similar facilities are afforded by language in induction 
 and reasoning. Names given to phenomena recal events 
 in their connection of antecedents and consequents, or 
 their relation of cause and effect, and enable us to com- 
 pare them with the remembrance of other phenomena. 
 
INFLUENCE OF LANGUAGE ON IMAGINATION. 119 
 
 And as reasoning about external material objects is one 
 mode of ascertaining or demonstrating the class to 
 •which any object or phenomenon belongs or does not 
 belong, names given to classes of objects or phenomena 
 are so important in all reasoning respecting them, that 
 without such names the mind could scarcely arrange them 
 under classes or genera. 
 
 The influence of language in imagination or conception. 
 
 We have introduced imagination or conception for the 
 first time in this connection, because we are convinced 
 that the operation or exercise of mind which is known 
 by these names, as employed about material external 
 objects, so far as it is different from memory, depends 
 greatly, if not entirely, on the use of language. 
 
 We have heard conception or imagination distinguished 
 from memory, on the ground that memory always includes 
 the notion of past time, at which the remembered sensa- 
 tion or object was experienced or perceived. But former 
 sensations, or objects formerly perceived, may be recalled 
 to the mind without any notion of their having been 
 previously in the mind ; and surely it is not a sufficient 
 reason for classing the same state of the mind, the 
 same recalled sensation or perception, under different 
 pov/ers of the mind, according as it is or is not accom- 
 panied with the consciousness that it is a remembrance 
 of what we have formerly experienced. Many scenes 
 recur to the mind of which we cannot tell where and 
 when we saw them, or whether we ever saw them, 
 which yet are scenes which have formerly been subjects 
 of thought in the mind. A particular scene is familiar 
 to us, having frequently presented itself in dreaming, so 
 vividly that we could draw it, which for a considerable 
 time we could not remember when we had seen it, or 
 whether we had ever seen it, till we discovered it to be 
 a view from a rising ground near Portpatrick. Now, 
 
290 INFLUENCE OF LANGUAGE ON IMAGINATION. 
 
 surely our subsequently making that discovery does not 
 convert that power of the mind by which the scene 
 presented itself to us from imagination to memory. It 
 was memory all along, although it was not accompanied 
 with the memory of the time and place where we 
 originally saw it. Another scene which has presented 
 itself to. us, as connected with the city of Glasgow, — an 
 elevated platform on the northern bank of the river, 
 extending from the city down the river for a considerable 
 distance, with footpaths and broken hedges running 
 along it, interspersed with furze bushes, a scene which 
 certainly does not exist in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, 
 nor have we been able to discover where it exists, although 
 from the distinctness with which it has more than once 
 occurred in dreams, we are pretty sure that it is a scene 
 which we have actually seen somewhere (we suspect, in 
 the neighbourhood of Bristol). It is, we doubt not, the 
 exercise of memory, operating by some law of suggestion, 
 and connected with the name and some of the charac- 
 teristics of the city of Glasgow. Several other scenes 
 are familiar to us in the same way, which we cannot 
 trace to any time or place ; and yet we have little doubt 
 that they are scenes which we have somewhere seen, 
 either in realities or in pictures, or that they are made up 
 of different scenes which have been present to the mind. 
 
 Now, this making up of scenes out of shreds and 
 patches of different scenes, which we have actually wit- 
 nessed, is what is called the power of imagination or 
 conception, but which we believe to depend much, if not 
 entirely, on the use of language, modifying the sugges- 
 tions of memory. In support of this opinion, we offer 
 the following observations : — 
 
 1. Conception or imagination introduces no new 
 thought into the mind. It never passes beyond those 
 perceptions that are stored up in the memory, ready to 
 be recalled by suggestion. Those persons who have been 
 most remarkable for the powers of imagination have never 
 
INFLUENCE OF LANGUAGE ON IMAGINATION. 121 
 
 broached anything new. If they had, they would have 
 been as unintelligible as if they had spoken of colours to 
 a man born blind, or of sounds to a man born deaf. The 
 whole history of the human mind attests this fact. All 
 the efforts of men to imagine a class of beings different 
 from those with which they are acquainted have failed. 
 The gods of the heathen are merely men, women, or 
 beasts. Their supernatural beasts are made up of dif- 
 ferent parts of beasts with which they are acquainted. 
 Dragons with many heads and birds’ claws ; Satyrs, 
 partly goats and partly men; Centaurs, partly horses 
 and partly men ; — the feats of gods or of angels, as 
 fancied by poets, are all of the earth, — earthly, — indi- 
 cating that our souls are as incapable of disentangling 
 themselves from the objects of sense as our bodies are 
 of rising above the earth. 
 
 2. Without the use of language, our reminiscences 
 would usually present themselves in the same connection 
 in which the objects remembered have been actually 
 perceived. We do not state this absolutely or universally, 
 for it is possible that other operations of suggestion 
 might recal detached portions of scenes which had been 
 actually before the mind, and associate these detached 
 portions so as to construct a new scene out of them. 
 But we apprehend that this forming of scenes in the 
 mind out of different scenes which we have actually seen 
 would seldom take place without the use of language. 
 
 3. Descriptions in language of objects, or of scenes, 
 call up images already in the mind ; that is, already so 
 connected with the mind by perception, as to be capable 
 of being recalled to its consciousness. Graphic speakers 
 or writers call up vivid pictures into the minds of others ; 
 but the picture is different in every mind. Painters can 
 delineate, from their own mental pictures, the scenes sug- 
 gested by graphic writers ; but no two painters ever 
 agreed in the delineation of any such scene. Such 
 writers tell of mountains, seas, lakes, rocks, trees, rivers. 
 
12S INFLUENCE OF LANGUAGE ON IMAGINATION. 
 
 cottages, castles, men, women, cattle, wild beasts, and we 
 fashion the scene after the pictures which we already 
 possess : the mountains, seas, lakes, rivers, castles, cot- 
 tages, are formed of the materials in our own minds, 
 which these words recal, and we people them with men 
 and women, beasts and birds, which we have previously 
 seen. 
 
 4. Paintings furnish our minds with perceptions 
 capable of being recalled nearly as real scenes do. They 
 give us vivid conceptions of the scenes of other countries 
 and climates. Let a poet or historian describe to us a 
 battle, without saying to what nation the combatants 
 belonged, and we shall have a picture in our minds of 
 such soldiers fighting as we have been accustomed to 
 see in reality, or in pictures. Let him add that it was 
 among the Chinese, and the whole scene changes ; 
 and if we have seen Chinese soldiers, or pictures of 
 them, the combatants in our imagination assume the 
 features and the dresses and weapons of Chinese 
 soldiery. Paintings also furnish us with the con- 
 ceptions that other minds have formed from written 
 descriptions. In reading the narratives in the gospels, 
 for example, instead of making up the scenes described 
 from our own materials, we often have the conception 
 of another mind recalled as embodied in some painting 
 of the scene described. 
 
 5. Scenes brought before us by paintings are capable, 
 like real scenes, of being broken up, and combined to 
 form other scenes. Thus, in reading a description, we 
 may have a mountain from one painting, a river from 
 another, a cottage such as we have actually seen, with 
 many other fragments derived from various sources, 
 formed into one imagined scene, called up into the 
 mind by verbal description. 
 
 6. When a whole scene is thus constructed in the 
 mind, suggested, it may be, by description, or in any 
 other way, it may itself become an object of memory, 
 
INFLUENCE OF LANGUAGE ON IMAGINATION. 123 
 
 and may rise up to the view of the mind, as a whole, as 
 often as it may be recalled. This is remarkably the 
 fact in those cases of combined or imaginary scenes 
 that we have noticed as having occurred repeatedly in 
 dreams. Several such fictitious scenes are in our 
 minds, which can be recalled by suggestion, just as 
 real scenes may. 
 
 T. One operation of the mind which is ascribed to 
 imagination or conception as distinguished from memory, 
 and often adduced as an evidence that the powers are 
 essentially distinct, is the combining of different qualities 
 in the same object which are never found combined in 
 reality, and which therefore could never be recalled by 
 memory ; as when we thiuk of a mountain of ivory, or 
 a sea of gold. This power, we apprehend, depends 
 solely on the use of language. We question whether 
 any mind would ever have thought, or would have been 
 capable of thinking of an ivory mountain, if it had not 
 been in possession of the word ivory, signifying, not an 
 elephant’s tusk, but the substance, with its peculiar 
 qualities, of which the elephant’s tusk consists, and 
 another word signifying a certain elevation on the earth’s 
 surface. But having these words, nothing more is 
 required than to bring them into juxtaposition, ivory 
 mountain^ or in a form more definitely to express their 
 connection, mountain of ivory, to bring up in our minds 
 the picture of a high elevation on the earth’s surface 
 constructed of the same substance with elephant’s tooth. 
 We question whether any mind ever could have thought 
 of a sea of gold without the aid of two words signifying 
 the expanse of water called sea, and the bright yellow 
 metal called gold. On this, however, we would not 
 dogmatise, because some effects of a rising or setting 
 sun on the appearance of the sea might suggest to some 
 minds, without the use of language, the conception of 
 sea combined with that of gold. In that case, however, 
 there would be nothing more than the phenomenon of 
 
124 INFLUENCE OF LANGUAGE ON IMAGINATION. 
 
 suggestion. Of some of these imaginary combinations, 
 it would seem to be impossible that the mind could form 
 any conception, even with the aid of language, as, for 
 example, a sea of gold, like clear or transparent glass. 
 For if it were transparent, like glass, it would not be a 
 sea of gold ; if it were opaque, with a metallic lustre, 
 it would want one of the characteristic properties of 
 transparent glass. Such an object, therefore, could 
 never be seen, and could not he called up by suggestion. 
 But the proximate position of the words pure, gold, 
 clear, and glass, calls up a sort of varying image, like 
 the play of some kinds of fire- works, in which brilliant 
 colours blending and changing into one another, afford 
 great pleasure by their combination and splendour. 
 
 Imagination or conception as exercised about the 
 mental phenomena of other persons, will fall to be con- 
 sidered afterwards. 
 
 END OF BOOK II. 
 
BOOK IIL 
 
 RECOGNITION, AND THE PHENOMENA DEPENDENT 
 UPON IT. 
 
 We use the term recognition, to siguify our discern- 
 ment of the existence and presence of other minds than 
 our own. We have considered two sources of mental 
 phenomena : — I. Sensation ; II. The Perception of 
 external material objects. We now proceed to consider 
 a third, namely, III. The Recognition of other minds, 
 and of their phenomena. 
 
 We are now, therefore, to elevate the mind to a still 
 higher platform. We have contemplated it first in its 
 solitary abode acted upon from without, and so aroused 
 to life, and feeling, and activity, and exerting its powers 
 on the sensations which external objects had awakened 
 in it, hut without the means of forming any conception 
 of external objects, or of any being different from itself. 
 We then contemplated it as endowed with a certain 
 power over the body, through the organs of which it 
 received its sensations, and thus as enabled to acquire 
 the knowledge of external objects and of self; thus, 
 also, as having the will called into exercise, and the 
 notion of cause and effect acquired by it, with those 
 emotions and intellectual operations that depend on its 
 perception of external objects. We have now to intro- 
 duce it to the world of kindred minds formed in the 
 same image with itself, and to observe the new emotional 
 and intellectual states to which this new knowledge 
 gives rise. 
 
126 
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 The step by which the mind ascends to this higher 
 platform is Consciousness. The word consciousness 
 when used respecting a mere sensation, is the attention 
 directed to the sensation and nothing more. When 
 used of sensations as known to he excited by external 
 objects, it includes the knowledge of the external objects 
 that excite them. It extends also to the notion of self, 
 to the notion of cause and effect, and to the exercise of 
 the will, implying the attention directed to these mental 
 phenomena. It is applied to present or former emotions, 
 implying attention not only to the emotions, but to the 
 occasions or causes of them, and to all present or past 
 intellectual operations. Its application also extends 
 hypothetically to the future, as when we say we are 
 conscious, that if a near friend were to die, we should be 
 overwhelmed with grief ; or that, if we were deprived of 
 our property or our income, we should be brought into 
 great perplexity. In short, we can say we are conscious 
 of a present sensation, or of the remembrance of one, 
 we are conscious that it was caused by such or such an 
 external object, we are conscious that it gave us pain or 
 pleasure, that it excited in us grief or joy, that we could 
 distinguish it from other sensations, and the object that 
 caused it from other objects, and that we discovered 
 certain resemblances between that object and other 
 objects. When we apply it hypothetically to the future, 
 it is more than merely prognosticating how we should 
 be affected by certain events, because it includes the 
 experimental knowledge of what those feelings are, which 
 we can foresee the supposed events would awaken in us. 
 It may be generally described as the notice which the 
 mind takes of its own sensations and perceptions, the 
 
PEESENCE AND EMOTIONS OF OTHEE MINDS. 
 
 127 
 
 causes of them, its own intellectual operations upon 
 them, and the emotions excited by them. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE DISCOVEEY OF THE PEESENCE AND EMOTIONS OF 
 OTHEE MINDS. 
 
 The manner in which the mind discovers the existence, 
 presence, and states of other minds is as follows : — 
 
 1. It discovers that there are other bodies similar to 
 that with which it is connected, which we shall call its 
 own, with countenance, head, trunk, limbs, like its own. 
 It is conscious that it is itself, by its own will, the cause 
 of the movements of its own body, and in consequence of 
 that intuitive persuasion which we have so often noticed, 
 namely, that like antecedents are followed by like conse- 
 quents ; or, as it is now sometimes modified, that like 
 causes produce like effects, and that like effects proceed 
 from like causes; it naturally infers that these other 
 living bodies, which it perceives to be like its own, and 
 to exhibit similar motions to its own, are animated with 
 and moved by minds similar to itself. 
 
 2. Besides this general inference, it is conscious that 
 it exhibits certain states or movements within itself, by 
 certain movements of the muscles of the body. The 
 mouth, the eyes, and eyebrows, are particularly the 
 means of expressing internal emotions. An infant draws 
 the muscles of his mouth in a certain manner when he is 
 pleased, and in a different manner when he is displeased, 
 or in pain. In giving earnest attention to any object the 
 mouth is open, and the eyes open, and directed steadily to- 
 wards the object that engages the attention. If the object 
 excite pleasure, the eyebrows and the sides of the mouth 
 are somewhat elevated ; if it give pain, the eyebrows are 
 drawn down and forward ; if the pleasure be new, the 
 eyebrows are elevated ; if the pain be new, the eyebrows 
 
128 PKESENCE AND EMOTIONS OF OTHER MINDS. 
 
 are drawn forward and elevated ; and by the combining 
 of these movements in various ways a vast variety 
 of emotions is expressed. We are conscious that 
 shame causes the blood to rush into the countenance, 
 and creates heat and redness, or blushing ; it also 
 inclines us to bend down the head, and to look towards 
 the ground. Anger disposes us to set the teeth and 
 expose them, clench the fist and stretch out the arm, as 
 if w^e intended to strike. We also indicate various 
 emotions by various tones of voice. Strong emotions, 
 pleasant or painful, are naturally expressed by loud 
 tones, accompanied with violent gesticulations ; and 
 gentle emotions by soft tones ; while the nature of the 
 emotion, whether pleasant or painful, is indicated by the 
 peculiar modulation of the voice. Some strong emotions, 
 such as rage and indignation, or violent grief, swell the 
 throat and produce a choking sound, and render the 
 articulation indistinct. 
 
 Every man is conscious from his childhood, till the 
 restraints of society may have taught him to keep under 
 the expression of his emotions, that he indicates his 
 emotions by these and similar movements in the muscles 
 of the face and attitudes and gestures of the body and 
 tones of the voice. They are common to all children 
 and to all savages ; and when he sees such movements 
 in other countenances, such attitudes in other bodies, 
 and hears such tones of other voices, he infers that 
 there is a mind within the body, directing its movements, 
 and expressing, by its command of the muscles of the 
 countenance, the gestures of the body, and the tones of 
 the voice, its own emotions ; still founding his inference 
 on his persuasion that like effects must be produced by 
 like causes. Thus the mind, provided with the means 
 of discovering the presence of other minds constituted 
 like itself, and of discerning their emotions and the 
 means by which these are excited, it takes its place in 
 the intellectual and moral world — the world of mind. 
 
ATTENTION TO MENTAL CHAEACTEE. 
 
 129 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 THE ATTENTION DEAWN OFF FEOM THE MEEE BODIES OF 
 MEN, AND DIEECTED CHIEFLY TO THEIE MENTAL 
 CHAEACTEE. 
 
 One important change that immediately takes place in 
 the view which we take of the persons of other men in 
 consequence of our recognising in them minds similar 
 to our own, possessing the same control over their 
 bodies which we possess over our bodies, is, that, 
 instead of regarding their bodies merely as external 
 objects, exciting in us certain sensations, pleasant or 
 painful ; and as mere material machines, that may have 
 been the means of conveying to us sources of pleasure 
 or pain ; we learn speedily to view them as intimations 
 of the presence of the mind that controls them. We 
 learn from our own consciousness, that the body can 
 exert no power but as the mind directs. Our attention, 
 therefore, is diverted from the body, as it would be from 
 a mere slave or drudge, to the master who can command 
 the acts of the slave ; because we have found that the effect 
 which the body of another person may produce on our 
 own pleasure or pain depends on the mind that governs it. 
 
 Our chief attention, therefore, comes to be directed 
 to the mental character of those with whom we come into 
 communication. The character of other minds, so far as 
 it is fitted to affect us, consists of two elements, — 
 namely, their power to do us good or evil, and their 
 disposition or inclination to do us good or evil. In our 
 very infancy, the study of the characters of others com- 
 mences. Children soon discover that their parents 
 possess full power over them, to deal with them as they 
 think fit. This at once gives to the parents the highest 
 importance in their eyes. As the parents are the sources 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 ATTENTION TO MENTAL CHAKACTER. 
 
 of all comfort to the child, if they be kind and judicious, 
 their affectionate look and demeanour is to him the very 
 index of all that is pleasant. And as they have power 
 to render the child miserable, if they be unkind and 
 injudicious, their very presence is the index of pain, and 
 annoyance, and restraint; and the unhappy child of such 
 parents, as he obtains the use of his limbs, and increases 
 in strength, becomes impatient of their control, and seeks 
 refuge from them among other persons, young or old, 
 that will permit him to associate with them on more 
 comfortable terms. He becomes a stranger in his 
 father’s house, never entering it except when necessity 
 compels him. A child is perpetually seeing objects 
 which he thinks would gratify him if he possessed them. 
 He has yet no idea of the laws of property, or of the 
 mischief that he might do to property. This requires 
 the constant exercise of authority, on the part of his 
 parents, to restrain him within proper hounds. If his 
 parents be firm, and yet kind, he readily learns to 
 submit willingly to their authority, without being alienated 
 from them ; if they be firm, but not kind, he submits by 
 restraint, but eludes the restraint as often as he can ; if 
 they be kind, but want firmness to compel his submis- 
 sion, he very speedily discovers their weakness, learns to 
 look upon himself as their superior, and the little tyrant 
 stamps and rages and commands till his wishes are 
 gratified. Nothing can save such parents from the dis- 
 regard and utter contempt of their own children. 
 
 The study of the character of those with whom we 
 have intercourse, as it begins in early infancy, so it con- 
 tinues through life. At a very early age children 
 speedily discover the power and the dispositions of those 
 with whom they associate. We remember that an ele- 
 mentary teacher in Scotland, having occasion to be 
 absent from his school for a few days or weeks, prevailed 
 on a friend — a tall, gaunt, muscular man — to take 
 charge of it in his absence. This friend, however, was 
 
ATTENTION TO MENTAL CHARACTEE. 
 
 131 
 
 totally unused to maintain the order of a school, and 
 knew nothing of the management of children. They, of 
 course, immediately began to test his power to maintain 
 order among them, by trying how far they might proceed 
 with impunity in getting into confusion. They soon dis- 
 covered that, tall and formidable as he looked, he was 
 infirm of purpose. The disorder rapidly gained ground. 
 He attempted to establish his authority by flogging some 
 of the children ; but it was done without system or 
 judgment ; the innocent suffered, and the most active and 
 cunning in the mischief escaped. They therefore were 
 encouraged to proceed ; all vestige of authority vanished, 
 and the school became a scene of universal hubbub and 
 confusion, when, to crown the whole, one little urchin, 
 remembering that the window shutters were on the 
 outside, slipped out, closed the windows, and added 
 tenfold wildness and confusion to the scene by plunging 
 it into darkness. The poor bewildered imbecile could 
 only effect his escape. This thorough discovery of a 
 strong man’s weakness was made in a very few hours. 
 
 The two elements of character which draw the atten- 
 tion are, we have said, power to give pleasure or pain, 
 and disposition or inclination to give pleasure or pain. 
 
 If a man have no power to occasion either pleasure or 
 pain by the exercise of his will, he is disregarded, except 
 so far as compassion or disinterested generosity may 
 draw the attention to him. But he may have power of 
 various kinds besides the exercise of authority. Let us, 
 in the first place, consider these elements of character, 
 as they appear to children. 
 
 In regard to power, mere strength of body gives 
 importance in the eyes of children, because it implies 
 power to injure them, or to protect them from injury. 
 A strong man will always appear to be an important 
 person to children, till they detect some weakness of 
 character that neutralises his bodily strength, or till 
 they discover that he is under the control of some other 
 
]32 
 
 ATTENTION TO MENTAL CIIAEACTER. 
 
 person, which incapacitates him from using his strength 
 either for good or evil till he he commanded or permitted 
 to use it. When that is discovered, then the importance 
 attached to his bodily strength is transferred to the 
 person who has power to control and command him. 
 Property sometimes gives importance in the eyes of 
 children to him who possesses it. The power of giving 
 or withholding money, of opening fields to them, or 
 shutting fields against them, makes him appear impor- 
 tant. And as men who have property usually live in 
 larger and handsomer houses than others, in some pro- 
 portion to their wealth, and dress more expensively than 
 the poor, the occupying a larger and finer house, the more 
 expensive dress, and the general appearance of having 
 the command of more money, become so many signs of 
 power, and consequently causes of importance. The 
 power to communicate, the reputation of knowing a 
 great deal, and thus of making children acquainted with 
 what are novelties to them, is another source of import- 
 ance in the eyes of children. An intelligent and conlmu- 
 nicative parent or teacher thus attains to an importance 
 in the estimation of his children or pupils, which mere 
 authority could never confer upon him. Even a person 
 of wit and drollery, who knows how to excite their 
 laughter, which is in fact the power of communicating 
 pleasure of a certain kind, will appear to them to be a 
 person of importance. We can well remember also the 
 sort of reverence with which we used, in childhood, to 
 regard good fifers and drummers in recruiting parties, 
 and the ambition we felt of being like one of them. We 
 still retain in pretty old age a vivid remembrance of 
 the appearance of some of these personages. 
 
 Having formed some estimate of the power of any 
 individual either for good or evil, Nthe next point to 
 which children direct their attention is, his disposition 
 towards them. Of this they take their first impression 
 from the aspect of his countenance, and from his manner 
 
ATTENTION TO MENTAL CHAEACTER. 
 
 133 
 
 of addressing them. If he have a benevolent, kind look 
 and manner, they become persuaded that he will employ 
 his power, whatever it may be, to give them pleasure. 
 If his look and manner be repulsive, they regard him 
 as one who would do them injury, that is, who would 
 inflict painful sensations, or withhold from them the 
 means of pleasant sensations, and they avoid him. If, 
 notwithstanding his bland look, he occasion to them 
 painful sensations, or if, notwithstanding his cross 
 aspect, he occasion to them pleasure, they soon reverse 
 their judgment, and regard the bland and smiling 
 person as the malignant one, and the cross and forbid- 
 ding person as the kind and benevolent one. The 
 disposition of every individual, therefore, comes ulti- 
 mately to be estimated by his actually occasioning 
 pleasant or unpleasant sensations, perceptions, recollec- 
 tions, or feelings of any kind. 
 
 The principles on which persons of mature under- 
 standing form their estimates of the character of those 
 with whom they have intercourse, are so identical with 
 the principles upon which children form theirs, that it 
 seems scarcely necessary to dwell upon them. There 
 are, however, some variations which it may be well to 
 notice. The elements of character as estimated by 
 adults' and by children are precisely the same, — power, 
 and disposition to use that power for good or evil. 
 
 The kinds of power to which adults look as giving 
 importance to the possessor of it, are the same as in 
 children, but modified in the details. In ruder states of 
 society, bodily strength is one principal source of 
 power, and therefore confers importance on the possessor 
 of it. As society advances in civilisation, mind gains the 
 ascendancy over the body, because men discover that there 
 are qualities of mind that give to a man more power to 
 do good or to do mischief— that is, to cause pain or 
 pleasure — than bodily strength. The nature of the 
 pleasure or pain to which importance is attached by 
 
134 
 
 ATTENTION TO MENTAL CHAEACTEE. 
 
 children or by adults, is much the same. Children 
 dread being flogged, confined to a school-room for a few 
 hours, being deprived of toys, or of liberty to gambol 
 in the open air. Men also dread the lash, and confine- 
 ment in prison, or elsewhere, being deprived of their 
 sources of amusement, or restricted in their liberty of 
 ranging the open country. Children who are poor 
 entertain the highest conceptions of the power of those 
 who can give them food and clothing and fuel. If they 
 be brought up in more comfortable circumstances, these 
 things are provided for them so regularly as scarcely to 
 attract their attention ; and it is only when they feel 
 the want of them, or have some fault to find with them, 
 that they regard the power of providing or withholding 
 these things from them as evidences of power in their 
 parents. But in adults the range of the power appears 
 widened. It may imply power of giving or withholding 
 employment, which may be tantamount to affording, not 
 only to the individual himself, but to a whole family, the 
 pleasurable sensations which the necessaries and comforts 
 of life create, or withholding these, and virtually inflict- 
 ing the pains of poverty. It may imply the power of 
 helping others forward to prosperity, or hindering and 
 depressing them ; which, again, is equivalent to affording 
 or withholding pleasant sensations or perceptions. Some- 
 times the power which attracts attention is the power of 
 inflicting death, or of protecting from it. The power 
 estimated highest is that of commanding armies, and, 
 on the one hand, of ravaging countries by means of 
 hordes of ferocious soldiers, sacking towns, and thus 
 creating a prodigious amount of misery, all resolvable 
 into painful sensations — the pain of wounds, of hunger, 
 cold, confinement, loss of near and dear relatives, or 
 grievous injury done to them, destruction of property, and 
 privation of liberty, and of all comfort ; or, on the other 
 hand, the power of affording protection from these injuries. 
 
 Official rank, as of magistrates, communicates a power, 
 
ATTENTION TO MENTAL CHAEACTER. 
 
 135 
 
 which is estimated as children estimate the power of 
 parents and teachers. That power in rude states of 
 society is usually procured by the same means as mili- 
 tary power, and accompanies it. In more advanced 
 society it is regulated by law; and those who hold 
 magistracies are deprived of much, if not of all, that 
 was originally arbitrary in them. Still a man who 
 represents the law, and pronounces its awards, and has 
 power to carry them into execution, is the instrument 
 of inflicting painful sensations on some, and of pro- 
 tecting many from the painful sensations that would be 
 experienced in a lawless state of society. 
 
 Property also confers power of occasioning pain or 
 pleasure of various kinds ; some more slight and tran- 
 sient, some more permanent and important. Property 
 implies the power of directly bestowing the means of 
 obtaining pleasant sensations, or of withholding such 
 means; and it gives power to engage the services of 
 others for the benefit of those whom the person pos- 
 sessing it may desire to favour or to injure. 
 
 Learning and other mental acquirements give power 
 to communicate the pleasure that is connected with all 
 new information. Poetical or oratorical genius gives 
 power to communicate the pleasure arising from the 
 perception of new unexpected similarities and analogies 
 among various objects, and of calling up by suggestion 
 pleasant trains of thought, or if mournful trains of 
 thought, yet rendered pleasant by their being recalled 
 in a mitigated form. For painful or mournful events, 
 when recalled, afford pleasure ; partly because much of 
 the pain by which they were originally accompanied has 
 passed away, and partly because the consciousness of 
 being now freed from pain which we formerly endured, 
 or of being exempt from pain which others have endured, 
 is a pleasant consciousness. We never so much enjoy 
 a snug room and comfortable fireside, as when we hear 
 a storm of hail or snow battering the windows without. 
 
136 
 
 ATTENTION TO MENTAL CHAEACTEE. 
 
 We are never so thankful for health, or freedom from 
 pain, as when a vivid picture is presented to us of the 
 pains of a sick-bed, or the anguish of the wounded on a 
 field of battle, or when we think of the pain or agony 
 which we ourselves formerly suffered, but from which 
 we have been delivered. Wit gives the power of pre- 
 senting new and unexpected analogies and relations 
 among objects not before observed, particularly strong 
 and unexpected contrasts. It also gives the power of 
 inflicting mental pain, by exposing a man to contempt 
 and laughter, which he feels as depriving him of a 
 portion of his own power and importance. Skill in 
 singing, or in playing on musical instruments, gives power 
 to communicate pleasant sensations, and, by the natural 
 language of music, to awaken a great variety of emo- 
 tions, some of them mournful, but pleasant from the 
 causes above alluded to. Similar observations are 
 applicable to skill in painting, skill in mimicry or acting, 
 skill in dancing : all derive their value in the estimation 
 of some class of men, and the importance which they 
 confer in their eyes on the person who possesses them, 
 from the power which they imply to communicate 
 pleasant sensations, or to recal pleasant remembrances, 
 to present or to suggest new, and therefore, for the time, 
 pleasant perceptions of relations among external objects. 
 
 Men, therefore, seek to possess themselves of some 
 one or other, or of more than one, of these descriptions 
 of power ; because, unless they possess power of some 
 kind to convey pleasure, or to inflict pain, whatever 
 may be their dispositions, they are necessarily destitute 
 of all importance in society, and will be either wholly 
 neglected, or subjected to insult and injury. The most 
 effective power, we have said, in a rude state of society, 
 is bodily strength, accompanied with personal bravery ; 
 but even in the most polished or cultivated states of 
 society, military prowess continues to be the most 
 efiective, and, therefore, to be the most eagerly coveted. 
 
ATTENTION TO MENTAL CHAKACTEE. 
 
 137 
 
 And some, when opportunity has offered, have recklessly 
 caused a frightful amount of human suffering, merely 
 to establish a reputation for great power, which they 
 might afterwards use as they might please, for causing 
 pain or communicating pleasure. The itching which 
 sovereigns have usually betrayed for obtaining despotic 
 power, and the desperate and bloody efforts which they 
 have made to obtain it, or to retain it, has its origin in 
 this desire of importance. Other species of power, 
 such as that which accompanies property, official autho- 
 rity, learning, wit, talent for poetry, painting, music, 
 mimicry, acting, dancing, and such like accomplish- 
 ments, are all pursued by different individuals for the 
 same purpose ; namely, of obtaining importance in 
 society, and thus giving value to their disposition towards 
 others, either for good or for evil. 
 
 The other element of character which arresls attention, 
 is the disposition of the person who possesses power to 
 use it for good or for evil, or perhaps to make no use of 
 it. In regard to this element, little needs to be added 
 to what has already been said of it as estimated by 
 children. If a man possessing power of any kind, strength 
 of body, command of other men, riches, learning, and 
 the rest, have a kind and bland manner of address, it 
 is regarded as primd facie evidence of a disposition to 
 use his power for the purpose of communicating pleasure ; 
 if his aspect and address be rough and forbidding, men 
 form their first judgment of him accordingly. This first 
 judgment may be altered by experiencing or observing 
 the use that he actually makes of his power. If, with 
 his bland and pleasant manner, his acts generally occasion 
 pain of some kind, or if he hold out expectations of good 
 which are frequently disappointed, then the prepossession 
 in favour of his goodness gives way to a persuasion of 
 his malignity or hypocrisy. And so the man with the 
 rough exterior may, if it be found that his acts generally 
 communicate pleasure, come to be regarded as the kind 
 
138 MEMOKY, AS EXEECISED ON EECOGNITIONS. 
 
 and benevolent man. If a man, with the reputation of 
 being rich, make no use of his riches, either to give 
 pain or pleasure, he is regarded with indifference, or 
 rather with dislike. For the pleasure which he has 
 power to impart is contrasted with his barrenness in that 
 respect, and he is regarded as, to some extent, the author 
 of the pain that he might have relieved, or the want of 
 comfort that he might have supplied. And here we 
 have often occasion to observe a strange self-deception. 
 A man covets and heaps up riches solely for the sake of 
 the power which they impart to him. They are to render 
 him important in society. And yet, by his not using 
 them, he sinks into utter neglect and insignificance ; and 
 frequently such persons have been robbed and murdered, 
 because no one was taking any interest in them. If a man 
 use his riches to give annoyance to others, he is regarded 
 as a person of malignant and mischievous character, whose 
 presence is dreaded and avoided in proportion to his 
 power. The power arising from wit or from poetical or 
 oratorical genius may also render a man an object of 
 dread and dislike, on the one hand, from the mental 
 pain that he occasions by exposing men to contempt, 
 and so lessening their own power ; or of admiration and 
 love, on the other, from the mental pleasure that he 
 communicates. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MEMOET, AS EXERCISED ON RECOGNITIONS. 
 
 One addition to the laws of suggestion or of memory 
 that the mind acquires by its knowledge of other minds, is 
 that the mental characters or qualities of men — ^ ourselves 
 or others, suggest the remembrance of persons possessing 
 similar or contrary mental qualities or characters. One 
 powerful man may suggest the remembrance of another 
 
MEMORY, AS EXERCISED ON RECOGNITIONS. 139 
 
 powerful man, or perhaps of a man without power. The 
 idea or recognition of one rich man may suggest that of 
 another rich man, or it may he of a very poor man ; and 
 so of all the attributes of character, the various kinds of 
 power and diversity of disposition — learned men, brave 
 men, skilful men, musicians, painters, wits, mimics, 
 actors, dancers, and also benevolent men, malevolent 
 men, humane and cruel men — suggesting the remem- 
 brance of one another or of their contraries. 
 
 But the most important addition to the laws of 
 suggestion that is required by means of recognitions, 
 is, that certain resemblances or analogies are dis- 
 cerned between mental qualities and qualities of matter 
 which are incessantly suggesting one another, or sug- 
 gesting their contraries. This is manifest from forms 
 of speech current in all languages. Thus we speak of 
 mental character as being cold, or hot, or warm, or luke- 
 warm, or hard or soft, or rough or smooth, or high or 
 low, or great or little, or sharp or blunt, or sweet or 
 sour or bitter, even as having breadth or depth, as being 
 dark or transparent, or splendid, as fair or foul, long- 
 headed, soft-headed, clot-pated, heavy-headed, light- 
 headed, and innumerable others, that are often intel- 
 ligible as rapidly as the words are pronounced ; indicating 
 that the mind naturally discerns and appreciates such 
 resemblances or analogies. On the other hand, mental 
 qualities are often ascribed to material objects, and 
 movements among them. We speak of a raging tempest, 
 a smiling landscape, a bold rock or precipice, a placid 
 stream, of gay or grave colours, lively, deliberate, wild, 
 capricious motions, melancholy or animated or cheerful 
 sounds, and a thousand other similar expressions con- 
 tinually occurring. It is true that most or all of these 
 words expressive of mental qualities are derived originally 
 from material ideas, as perhaps all our words denoting 
 mental qualities are. But in these cases they are not 
 used with reference to the material reality which they 
 
140 MEMOEY, AS EXEKCISED ON llECOGNITIONS. 
 
 originally expressed, but to the mental state or quality 
 which they were afterwards used to express. For example, 
 the word repose originally conveyed the idea of a thing 
 replaced in some former condition, or laid down, or laid 
 aside, from which it came to express rest after weariness 
 of body, thence extended to mental rest; but having 
 thus obtained a fixed and generally known signification 
 in regard to mind, and perhaps its original material 
 application being forgotten, it is again, through mind, 
 applied to matter, as when we speak of clouds reposing, 
 a landscape lying in repose, as if in a state of pleasant 
 rest, the repose of a picture. These suggestions are 
 sometimes viewed as the operation of imagination, 
 regarded as a distinct power of the mind from memory ; 
 but they seem to be nothing more than that discernment 
 of resemblance or analogy between mental and material 
 qualities upon which all language respecting mind is 
 founded. The words understand^ substance, suppose, 
 hypothesis, all contain the same material meaning of 
 standing or being placed under ; but they take their 
 different meanings from certain resemblances or ana- 
 logies which were observed between those material signi- 
 fications and the mental ideas now expressed by them. 
 
 One very important operation of the laws of suggestion 
 comes into view at this stage of our investigation ; namely, 
 that the presence or the remembrance of any work in 
 which the mind of man has been employed, immediately 
 brings up the remembrance of mind as having been em- 
 ployed in planning it, or executing the plan. If a machine 
 of any kind be presented to any intelligent person, in the 
 contriving and constructing of which the ingenuity of any 
 man has been engaged, he instantly thinks of the con- 
 structor of it. We seek to discern the intention of the 
 contriver of the machine, — for what use it was con- 
 structed ; we examine its various parts, consider the 
 purposes which they are intended to serve ; we detect 
 error in this part, or ingenuity in that ; we detect deep 
 
MEMOEY, AS EXEECISED ON EECOGNITIONS. 141 
 
 science in one contrivance, and great experience in 
 another. In short, when we are examining the machine, 
 and our attention seems to he intently fixed on the out- 
 ward materials and forms of its various parts, we are 
 conversing all the while with the mind of the man who 
 constructed it ; criticising him, admiring, censuring, 
 applauding, drawing inferences from it, as to the extent 
 of his ability and information or perseverance. When a 
 child looks at a picture, he thinks of nothing but the 
 forms and shades and colours in it, and pronounces it to 
 he the picture of a man, or a house, or a tree, or what- 
 ever else it may appear to he : hut the thoughts of a 
 man who has some acquaintance with the art of painting 
 are carried beyond the picture to the artist ; his inten- 
 tion in it, and the success with which he has carried his 
 intention into effect ; his drawing, his management of 
 light and shade and of colour, so as to produce the effect 
 that he intended to produce. In hearing a piece of 
 music, those who are incapable of being affected by 
 musical expression think only of the successions of 
 sounds, or of the combinations of sounds, or, at farthest, 
 on the skill and dexterity of the performer. But those 
 who feel as the composer intended they should feel, 
 immediately enter into communication with the com- 
 poser’s mind, while they listen to the sounds dictated by 
 him, adverting from time to time to the performers, 
 to notice their perfect or imperfect conveyance of the 
 composer’s intentions. But their thoughts are chiefly 
 engaged in appreciating the conceptions of the composer, 
 and participating in the feelings which he expresses in 
 the language of music. They are conversing with the 
 minds of Handel, or Corelli, or Haydn, or Mozart, or 
 Beethoven, or Weber, accompanying them in their 
 transitions of feeling from the gay to the grave, from 
 the sublime and the terrible to the elegant, the tender, 
 the pathetic, or the rapturous, as expressed in their 
 wonderful compositions. In reading a poem, also, the 
 
142 EMOTIONS, AS CONNECTED WITH RECOGNITION. 
 
 thoughts are hut little employed on the language or 
 versification, or even upon the imagery of the poem ; 
 but, if the poem fulfil its end, are irresistibly carried 
 on to the mind of the poet, to accompany him also in his 
 grave or gay moods, his lofty flights, or his elegant trifling, 
 or his deep-toned pathos, or sensitive tenderness. If 
 the poem was effective, we may look back upon it to 
 observe how the effect was produced ; or, if ineffective, to 
 observe the causes of the failure ; and may thus have our 
 thoughts turned to the language, the versification, the 
 rhyme, and the imagery, that we may judge of the 
 poet’s skill, and qualify ourselves to commend his 
 excellencies, or to censure his defects. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE EMOTIONS, AS CONNECTED WITH RECOGNITION. 
 
 We have already considered those emotions which may 
 be excited by mere sensations, and by the perception 
 of external objects. We now come to those that are 
 excited by our recognition of minds constituted as our 
 own is, and therefore subjects of the same mental phe- 
 nomena. As introductory to the explanation of these 
 emotions, we make the following observations : — 
 
 1. Being ourselves conscious that we can be, and often 
 are, the intentional causes of pleasure or pain to others, 
 and having discovered other minds similar to our own, 
 we infer that they also can be, and often are, causes of 
 pain or pleasure to others, and it may be to ourselves. 
 
 2. Being conscious of certain emotions in ourselves 
 towards others, such as love, hatred, gratitude, anger, 
 admiration, contempt, and others, expressed by us in a 
 certain way, by our countenance, our gestures, and also 
 by our language, and prompting us to acts intended to 
 
EMOTIONS, AS CONNECTED WITH BECOGNITION. 143 
 
 give pleasure or pain to others. When we observe similar 
 expressions of emotions in others, excited by similar 
 causes and similar acts done by them, in connexion 
 with these expressed emotions, giving pain or pleasure 
 to others, perhaps to ourselves, we infer that the pain 
 or pleasure are intentionally caused by them, under the 
 influence of their expressed emotions. Even where 
 there is no expression of the emotion, if we know that 
 events had occurred that would have excited such emo- 
 tions in us, and would have prompted us to acts similar 
 to those which we witness in them, we infer that the 
 emotion does exist in them, and that their acts are 
 prompted by it. 
 
 3. Having discovered that not the individual acts, 
 but the character of the person, (that is, his power to do 
 good and evil, and his disposition to do good or evil to 
 others and to us,) is that in them which is of most 
 importance to us, many of our emotions towards others 
 are excited, not so much by their individual acts, as by 
 the estimate that we form of their habitual character. 
 And that estimate may be formed by witnessing the 
 expression which they give of their emotions or their 
 acts, or by learning from others their sayings and doings, 
 and the estimate which others have formed of them. We 
 may be grateful to a man who bestows a favour on us ; 
 but unless we can regard it as the indication of a kind 
 and benevolent disposition, or a particular regard to us, 
 we shall not love him. We may be angry with another 
 for injuring us ; but unless we regard the injury as the 
 indication of a malignant disposition, or of ill-will to 
 ourselves, we shall not hate him. 
 
 We now proceed to notice those emotions that are 
 founded on recognition. 
 
 A man who has power to do good, or to do evil, 
 commands, as we have seen, attention and deference in 
 proportion to his power. 
 
144 EMOTIONS, AS CONNECTED WITH EECOGNITION. 
 
 If, with his power 4o do good or to do evil — to promote 
 happiness, or to cause misery — he manifests a disposition 
 to do good, w^e respect and esteem him. 
 
 If, with such power, he manifest a disposition to give 
 pain to others, he is regarded with dread and aversion. 
 
 Contempt is the emotion with which we regard a 
 person who has little or no power to cause pain or 
 pleasure, especially if he pretend to such power. 
 
 Anger is the emotion with which we regard a man 
 who carelessly or intentionally gives us pain, or de- 
 prives us of what gives us pleasure, or of what would give 
 us pleasure if we possessed it ; and our anger is propor- 
 tioned to the amount of pain that he inflicts, or of 
 pleasure of which he deprives us, modified also by the 
 degree of carelessness or of malignant feeling mani- 
 fested by him. 
 
 Gratitude is the emotion with which we regard a 
 person who has intentionally given us pleasure ; and it 
 is proportioned, like anger, to the amount of the 
 pleasure received, combined with the degree of kindly 
 feeling towards us with which w^e believe him to be 
 influenced. 
 
 Hatred is the emotion with which we regard a man, 
 who, with power to give pleasure or pain to others, 
 chooses to give pain ; heightened, if he has manifested 
 that malignant disposition towards ourselves, and modi- 
 fied by the degree of good withheld or of pain occasioned, 
 and the degree of malignant disposition with which we 
 believe him to be actuated. 
 
 Hatred is often excited in the breast of a person who 
 has injured another towards the person whom he has 
 injured. That seemingly unnatural feeling originates 
 in several causes. The remembrance of the pain 
 inflicted is painful, rendered much more so by the 
 consciousness that we were the cause of it; and from 
 our own self-love, we perversely lay the blame of the 
 pain of that consciousness on the person who suffered 
 
EMOTIONS AS CONNECTED WITH BECOGNTTION. 145 
 
 the injury. Another source of this feeling is, that 
 having given cause to the person whom we have injured 
 to dislike us, and to seek to be revenged on us, we 
 regard him as an enemy, who would injure us if he 
 could. And if we be conscious that under such provo- 
 cations as we have given him, we could never rest till 
 we had retaliated the injury, we ascribe the same unap- 
 peasable thirst for revenge to him. Every recollection 
 of him, therefore, is connected with a suggestion of 
 danger, and that unpleasant suggestion being constantly 
 connected with him, creates in us a settled dislike to 
 him. A person who can from the heart forgive an 
 injury, can, after making all the reparation in his power 
 to the person injured, lay aside all such suspicion, and 
 dislike grounded on it, because he is conscious that if 
 he had been the injured person he would have been 
 satisfied with the reparation that had been made. 
 
 Love is the emotion with which we regard a person 
 who, having power to do good or evil, to inflict pain, or 
 to give pleasure or save from pain, chooses to do good 
 to others ; heightened by the amount of the pleasure 
 which has accrued to ourselves, and modified by the 
 amount of the good which he has done, or the evil which 
 he has warded off, and the degree of kindly feeling by 
 which we believe him to be influenced. 
 
 The love of parents to their children, — is it an innate 
 instinctive emotion, or is it an emotion excited by any- 
 thing in the children, or in the nature of their connection 
 with their parents ? Without absolutely deciding against 
 some innate natural affection, especially in the mother, 
 we would only observe that there is much in the children 
 themselves, and in the circumstances in which they come 
 into connection with their parents, that is calculated to 
 draw forth the tenderest affection of the parents towards 
 them. The utter helplessness of infants, when first 
 cast on the care of their parents, and their being their 
 absolute property, does much to draw their affections 
 
146 EMOTIONS AS CONNECTED WITH BECOGNITION. 
 
 towards their infant children. Then the general resem- 
 blance which children bear to their parents, and to their 
 near relatives, the mother discovering in the infant a 
 likeness to herself, or to her own parents, or sisters, or 
 brothers, or to her husband and his relations ; and the 
 father discovering similar resemblances to himself, or to 
 those whom he loves, gives a power to the infant of 
 awakening trains of interesting remembrances. The 
 beautiful arrangement by which the infant receives its 
 first nourishment from the bosom of its mother, who 
 must necessarily clasp it in her arms, the natural 
 expression of tender love, is wonderfully adapted to 
 engage her love to her little one. Then the gradual 
 development in the child of a mind similar to their 
 own, feelings in which they can sympathise, mental 
 qualities in which they can discern new resemblances to 
 themselves, or each to the other, or to near and valued 
 relatives, rivet and increase the attachment of parents. 
 Then the smiling faces and buoyant spirits of children, 
 constantly suggesting ideas of happiness ; and these 
 pleasant thoughts, heightened by the knowledge that 
 they themselves are among the chief causes of all that 
 hilarity by their kind treatment of them, render their 
 children a constant source of pleasure to them. The 
 occasional sufferings of children also, and the deep sym- 
 pathy in their distress which is thus awakened, together 
 with the patience and submission with which well brought 
 up children usually bear their distresses, still more 
 twine the affections of parents round their children. And, 
 finally, the children, gradually recognising them as the 
 sources of all their enjoyments, their comforters in all 
 their ailments, their protectors from all danger, and 
 incessantly applying to them for everything they require, 
 and complying with their directions, often anticipating 
 their wishes, — all add another and another golden link 
 to the chain that binds the hearts of parents to their 
 offspring. All of these circumstances in the intercourse 
 
EMOTIONS AS CONNECTED WITH BECOGNITION. 147 
 
 of parents with their children seem to he sufficient to 
 account for the phenomena of parental affection, without 
 having recourse to anything innate or instinctive. For 
 where these causes of affection are absent, or exist but 
 imperfectly, as when infants are not nursed by their 
 own mothers, are seldom seen by them, or when their 
 parents keep them at a distance, so that they neither 
 become acquainted, with the minds of their children, nor 
 their children with theirs, then parental affection is pro- 
 portionally weakened, till, where these alienating mea- 
 sures are carried to the extreme, it ceases altogether. 
 
 There has, we conceive, in regard to this, as to some 
 other phenomena of mind, been too strong a disposition 
 manifested to run to innate principles and propensities, 
 and too little attention paid to the circumstances in 
 which the human race are introduced into this place of 
 their residence, and into the society of their fellow men, 
 and the influence which these circumstances are adapted 
 to exert upon them. 
 
 The love of children to their parents certainly has 
 nothing in it intuitive or instinctive, as is manifest from 
 their readily attaching themselves to any one who cares 
 for them tenderly and affectionately, and that often in 
 preference to their own parents. One is rather dis- 
 posed to be mortified to see how soon the most affec- 
 tionate mother or father is forgotten by their children ; 
 even by children much advanced beyond the age of 
 mere infancy. But it is a wise provision that, when 
 God may see fit to call away the parents, the children 
 are ready to cling to any others who may be employed 
 and disposed to fulfil the duties of parents towards 
 them. 
 
 Anger and hatred (which is a kind of settled habitual 
 anger) kindle a desire in the subject of them to do 
 injury, or at least to inflict suffering of some kind on 
 the objects of these passions. The use of that desire is 
 to deter the person who has excited our anger or hatred 
 
.148 EMOTIONS AS CONNECTED WITH EECOGNITION. 
 
 by injuring us, from repeating the injury by the dread of 
 injury to himself, or to deprive him of power to injure us. 
 
 Bevenge is. the desire to inflict some injury on the 
 person who has injured us, which desire is proportioned 
 to our estimate of the injury, and modified by our own 
 disposition, and also by the character and circumstances 
 of the object of our revenge. The pleasure which the 
 injuring the object of revenge creates, consists partly in 
 the sense of safety which it seems to procure ; but it is 
 often mingled with other feelings by which all consider- 
 ation of safety is overpowered, and is often indulged 
 under circumstances that increase the danger of further 
 injury to an unlimited extent. Many persons havo 
 exposed themselves to certain death, nay, and to death 
 under the most dreadful agony, for the gratification of 
 their revenge. 
 
 Gratitude and love excite a desire in us to give plea- 
 sure to the object of them, proportioned to the amount 
 of the pleasure which he has occasioned to us, and 
 modified, as in other emotions, by the degree of our 
 own susceptibility, and by the circumstances of the 
 person who has deserved our gratitude. One cause of 
 this desire to give pleasure to those who have afibrded 
 pleasure to us is, that witnessing the expression of 
 pleasure in others, recals pleasant recollections to our 
 own minds, unless that effect be prevented by our hating 
 the person whose expression of pleasure we witness. 
 But in the case of a person who has given pleasure to 
 us, dislike or hatred to him is not likely to exist in us ; 
 and, therefore, we can participate in his gladness, by 
 enjoying the pleasant recollections which the witnessing 
 of his gladness suggests to our own minds, these plea- 
 sant remembrances being heightened by the conscious- 
 ness that we ourselves are the causes of his gladness. 
 Whether there be any other sources of the desire to 
 requite those who have ministered to our happiness by 
 ministering to theirs, we are not prepared either to 
 
EMOTIONS AS CONNECTED WITH EECOCNITION. 149 
 
 assert or deny, but no others occur to us at present. 
 Some may think that the disposition to requite injury 
 with injury, and benefit with benefit, is born with us, 
 and is intuitive or instinctive. We may have occasion 
 to refer to this afterwards ; at present we would leave 
 the question open for consideration. 
 
 The notion of personal identity, or self, which the 
 mind necessarily acquires as soon as it discovers the 
 existence of objects external to itself, and especially when 
 it discovers the existence of other minds similar to 
 itself, gives rise to several other emotions, each varying 
 in intensity, according to the intensity of the pleasure 
 or pain contemplated by them, and by which they are 
 excited, and modified by the aspect in which we regard 
 the person or persons who are the objects of them. 
 
 Self-love seems to be nothing more than the pleasure 
 of pleasant sensations, exciting the desire of the con- 
 tinuance or repetition of them, and the pain of painful 
 sensations, exciting the desire of being freed from them, 
 or of avoiding the repetition ; and these desires extended 
 to the external objects, whether material or mental, which 
 cause these pleasant or painful sensations respectively. 
 
 Selfishness is the same desire of prolonging or obtain- 
 ing pleasant sensations or emotions, and of escaping or 
 avoiding painful ones, but accompanied with a disposi- 
 tion to gratify these desires at the expense of other 
 persons. In a sound, healthful state of mind, witnessing 
 the pain of others will necessarily give pain to ourselves, 
 because it will recal painful sensations, or objects 
 causing such sensations to our own minds ; but if we 
 be so intent on any pleasure which we desire, that we 
 pay little or no regard to the pain which the gratifying 
 of our desire may cause to others, we are selfish. And 
 the amount of our selfishness will be measured by the 
 amount of the pleasure that we desire, as compared 
 with the amount of pleasure of which we deprive others, 
 
150 EMOTIONS AS CONNECTED WITH EECOGNITION. 
 
 or the amount of injury that we inflict on them ; that 
 is, the smaller the pleasure that we desire for ourselves, 
 and the greater the injury, the greater the number, 
 duration, and intensity of painful sensations or emo- 
 tions, which the gratifying of our desires may cause to 
 Others. One who, to gratify the desire of any pleasure, 
 deprives his neighbour of a greater pleasure, is selfish. 
 One who, to gratify the desire of any pleasure, will put 
 his neighbour to pain, is more selfish, and still more 
 selfish in proportion to the pain or injury that he 
 inflicts. One who, for a trifling momentary pleasure, 
 inflicts on him the greatest possible injury, deprives 
 him of his character, or of his life, is intensely selfish. 
 
 Generosity has its foundation in the pleasure which 
 the witnessing of gladness in others excites in our own 
 minds. If we take so much pleasure in witnessing the 
 gladness of others that we deprive ourselves of pleasures, 
 or of the means of obtaining them, that we may gladden 
 the hearts of others, we are generous. If we make 
 great sacrifices of the means of enjoyment to give 
 enjoyment to others we are very generous. The measure 
 of generosity, therefore, seems to be the greatness of 
 the enjoyment which we sacrifice as compared with the 
 smallness of another’s enjoyment for which the sacrifice 
 was made. It is possible that a man might carry his 
 generosity to a foolish or even a culpable extent, as 
 if he were to hazard or sacrifice his life to relieve 
 another person from a temporary pain, or produce for 
 him a temporary pleasure. Still, although he might be 
 foolish and even culpable in doing so, we could hardly 
 refuse to pronounce him intensely generous. This emo- 
 tion also is modified by the character and circumstances 
 of the person who is the object of it. To be generous, 
 for example, to one who has gained our affection by 
 contributing much to our happiness, is an inferior exhi- 
 bition of generosity to that which has for its object one 
 who has given us reason to dislike him by intentionally 
 
EMOTIONS AS CONNECTED WITH RECOGNITION. 151 
 
 injuring us. “ Scarcely,” says St. Paul, for a righteous 
 man will one die ; yet, peradventure, for a good man 
 some would even dare to die ; hut God commendeth his 
 love towards us in that while we were yet sinners 
 (that is, enemies, as he afterwards explains) Christ 
 died for us.” For to be generous to one who has injured 
 us, requires us to overcome the natural desire to requite 
 the injury that he has done, by injuring him, before we 
 can take pleasure in witnessing his happiness. 
 
 Avarice is the emotion with which we regard the 
 means of procuring enjoyment which we possess, when 
 we so cling to them that we cannot part with them to 
 relieve the distress of others, or even to procure those 
 enjoyments for ourselves which they might command. 
 
 Covetousness is the emotion with which we view means 
 of enjoyment which we do not possess, and desire to 
 possess them, more marked if we see these means in 
 the hands of others. 
 
 Envy is the emotion with which we view a person 
 whom we hate, in possession of some means of enjoy- 
 ment that we love and desire. If the mere circumstance 
 of his possessing the means of enjoyment that we desire, 
 however lawfully and justly, is the cause of our hating 
 him, then the emotion is of a still more malignant type. 
 It is the character of the mind of the first murderer. 
 
 Compassion, on the contrary, is the emotion with 
 which we regard a person whom we love, affected by 
 something that we hate as a cause of pain or unhappi- 
 ness of any kind. If the affection has been created or 
 augmented by witnessing the pain or distress of the 
 person whom we compassionate, then the compassion is 
 the more pure and perfect. 
 
 Jealousy is the emotion with which we regard a person 
 who we fear is about to obtain possession of some means 
 of enjoyment which either we do not possess but desire 
 to obtain, or which we' already possess and desire to 
 retain. It is compounded of desire of enjoyment, 
 
152 EMOTIONS AS CONNECTED WITH EECOGNITION. 
 
 dread of not obtaining it or of losing it, hatred of the 
 person who seeks to deprive us of it, and envy in anti- 
 cipation of seeing him in possession of it. There are 
 various causes of modification of this compound emotion 
 — such as whether the means of enjoyment in question 
 have ever been in our possession, or whether we are only 
 desiring what we never possessed ; whether we previously 
 had any dislike to the person of whom we are jealous ; 
 the estimate that we form of the enjoyment that we 
 desire. When a man is agitated by such a combination 
 of emotions all directed against one object ; when such 
 passions as love and hatred, desire and fear, are all in- 
 tensely at work at the same time, and all made to bear 
 against one object ; when love itself — the love of the 
 enjoyment — is made to add new bitterness to hatred, 
 and desire is made to add new urgency to fear, and that 
 fear still more embittering our hatred of the person 
 who threatens to deprive us of what we love, and whom 
 we dread to see in possession of it, an intensity of 
 malignity is the result, that often produces terrific effects. 
 
 From the notion that we have received of cause and 
 effect, combined with our perceptions of an external 
 material world, and our recognitions of an external 
 mental world, are derived some important compound 
 emotions. 
 
 8 elf -approbation or self-gratulation is excited by re- 
 membering means of enjoyment which we are conscious 
 we bestowed on others. 
 
 Bemorse is excited by our remembrance of pains en- 
 dured by others of which we are conscious that we were 
 the intentional cause. 
 
 This is natural conscience with respect to other per- 
 sons, — that is, conscience irrespective of education or 
 religious principle. It is the remembrance of the plea- 
 sure or pain, the benefit or the injury of others, accom- 
 panied with the consciousness that we were the inten- 
 
EMOTIONS AS CONNECTED WITH EECOGNITION. 153 
 
 tional cause, mediately or immediately, of that pleasure 
 or pain, benefit or injury. The emotion is capable of 
 being modified by many circumstances — such as the 
 amount of the pain or pleasure which it contemplates ; 
 the extent to which our will or intention was the cause of 
 the pain or pleasure, and the aspect in which we viewed 
 the persons who were the subjects of the pain or the 
 pleasure on which our conscience is exercised. In 
 regard to this last modification, if, on the one hand, the 
 pain inflicted by us was the gratification of revenge, the 
 gratification of that passion may counteract the pain 
 which the remembrance of the pain wilfully inflicted on 
 a fellow man would otherwise occasion. If, on the other 
 hand, the person to whom we occasioned pain was one 
 whom we loved, that remembrance will increase the pain 
 with which we look back on the pain that we intentionally 
 inflicted upon him. 
 
 Conscience, in this view of it, includes not only the 
 remembrance of the actual suffering or happiness that 
 we may have occasioned to others, but the remembrance 
 also that we were the intentional causes of that suffering 
 or happiness. If then, on the one hand, good should 
 have resulted from our evil intentions, that might mitigate 
 the regret with which we remember the intention, but it 
 will not absolve us from the consciousness of the evil 
 that we intended. If, on the other hand, evil has 
 resulted from our good intentions, we shall still be 
 pained at the suffering that we have occasioned, but we 
 shall be in some degree relieved from the pain of that 
 painful remembrance by the consciousness that we were 
 not in fault. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary, we trust, to remind the reader 
 that we have not entered on the consideration of the 
 moral good or evil involved in our emotions. We have 
 simply sought to investigate their nature, origin, and 
 combinations. The moral good and evil of them may, if 
 it please God to award to us a little longer time on this 
 his footstool, form a part of the subject of a future Essay. 
 
154 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 Sympathy is the pain or pleasure that we feel on witness- 
 ing the pain or pleasure of others. These phenomena 
 have been regarded by some writers as originating in an 
 innate peculiar faculty of the mind. They seem, how- 
 ever, to be merely a particular exercise of memory 
 guided by the laws of suggestion, frequently modified, 
 however, by the intermingling of other emotions. 
 
 When we see anything affecting another which we are 
 conscious would give us pain if it were to affect ourselves, 
 it forcibly brings into the mind the pain which we should 
 suffer from it, but modified, as in all cases of the sug- 
 gestion of pain. No one has ever, we believe, seen a 
 surgical operation performed on another for the first 
 time without shrinking, as if the incisions were inflicted 
 on himself, and many have fainted at the sight. The 
 suggestion of pain is rendered more vivid by the contor- 
 tions of the patient’s countenance or the cries of anguish 
 uttered by him. If a man, who cannot bear to look 
 from a precipice, see another person approaching one, he 
 recoils and trembles, and perhaps perspires with terror, 
 as if it were himself that was approaching the precipice. 
 
 That this suffering with others is merely the operation 
 of the laws of suggestion, and not a distinct power or 
 faculty of the mind, is, we conceive, proved by its 
 exhibiting the ordinary phenomena of suggestion. For 
 example, we sympathise most deeply with a pain or 
 sorrow which we have ourselves experienced. A person 
 who has suffered from toothache sympathises most with 
 those who are suffering under that torture — others fre- 
 quently make light of it. So with gout and other pains 
 which are not regarded as dangerous to life. Parents 
 who have experienced the loss of children sympathise 
 
SYMPATHY. 
 
 155 
 
 most tenderly with those w^ho have been visited with a 
 similar bereavement. And the sympathy of such parents 
 is proportioned to the grief which they themselves 
 experienced on the loss of their own children. The 
 bereavement suffered by others could not recal more 
 grief than themselves felt. On the contrary, if they see 
 parents more overwhelmed by the loss of children than 
 they themselves were, they do not sympathise with that 
 excess of sorrow, but rather wonder that any persons 
 should be so agonised and prostrated with a stroke which 
 they could bear with comparative equanimity. Again, 
 the frequent witnessing of the same cause of pain to 
 others deadens the emotion of sympathy, according to 
 that general law of suggestion, that all causes of pain or 
 pleasure are diminished in their effect by repetition. 
 Surgeons who frequently perform operations, and 
 students who frequently witness them, lose all sympathy 
 with the patient, while they are becoming on every 
 repetition better acquainted with the nature of the 
 operation, and more dexterous in the performance of it. 
 We have known a surgeon so absorbed in the operation 
 of amputating the leg of a patient who cried out violently, 
 as never to have heard his cries ; expressing surprise 
 when the patient, after the operation, apologised for the . 
 noise that he had made, and declaring that he had not 
 heard it. On the other hand, we have known a surgeon 
 almost unfitted for performing operations on others in 
 consequence of having had a painful operation performed 
 on himself. 
 
 But what seems decisive on this point is, that we 
 sympathise with persons of whom we know nothing but 
 the history of their sufferings. Now that seems to 
 prove that it is not with the person but with the suffer- 
 ings that we sympathise. The person may be named 
 A., B., C., as in a mathematical problem, and just as 
 such problems and demonstrations of them are not con- 
 fined to the diagram before us, but are intended to extend 
 
156 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 to all figures coming under the same description, so our 
 sympathising with persons who are known to us only as 
 A., B., C., circumstanced in the manner related of them, 
 and suffering as related of them, proves that it is not 
 with these particular individuals that we sympathise, 
 but with the description of the suffering. Let A. 
 be a young lady, beautiful and accomplished, the 
 daughter of a widowed mother of highly respectable 
 family, betrothed to B., a gentleman of worth, in every 
 way a suitable match for A. They are soon about to be 
 married, when A., in the course of her necessary pre- 
 parations, goes to a mercer’s shop to purchase some 
 article of dress. After making her purchase she is fol- 
 lowed by S. the shopman, and charged with stealing a 
 valuable lace veil. Her reticule is examined, and the veil 
 found in it. M., the mercer, having experienced several 
 losses of a similar kind, is determined to make her an 
 example, and hands her over to the police ; the fearful 
 necessary preliminaries are gone through ; she is com- 
 mitted for trial ; yet strong in conscious innocence, and 
 in the undiminished esteem of B., who does not believe 
 the charge. The day of trial arrives. M,, the mercer, 
 and S., the shopman, swear directly against her; there 
 is no exculpatory evidence ; and 0., her counsel, is per- 
 plexed and despairing of extricating his client from her 
 most critical and agonising situation, when G., a gentle- 
 man in the gallery, hands a note to C., requesting to be 
 examined as a witness. C. hesitates to hazard the 
 calling forward of a person of whom he knew nothing ; 
 but, in his extremity, he does call forward G., who, on his 
 examination, declares that he was present in the shop 
 when A. was making her purchase, and that he saw S. 
 put the lace veil into A.’s reticule, which did not strike 
 him at the time as being remarkable, as he thought it 
 was one of the articles she had purchased. After cross- 
 examination, the jury are satisfied of A.’s innocence, 
 and she is discharged. S. is afterwards tried for the 
 
SYMPATHY. 
 
 157 
 
 perjury, and transported; and it transpires that the 
 robberies which M., his master, had complained of, were 
 effected by S. himself. But the shock has been too 
 much for the nervous system of A. B. afterwards takes 
 C. to visit her ; and C. finds her sitting by her mother, 
 beautiful and interesting, but sunk into a state of hope- 
 less idiocy. Now who is there that does not, on reading 
 such a narrative, deeply sympathise with A., her widowed 
 mother, and her lover, and even with the mercer, who, 
 if he was a man of character, must have been distressed 
 beyond measure at the mental anguish which he was 
 prevailed on by deception to inflict ? Yet what do we 
 know of the persons who are the subjects of this sad 
 history, but as A., B., C., M., S., &c. 
 
 It is, indeed, the more palpable that it is with the 
 sufferings, and not with the sufferer, that we sympathise, 
 when we remember that we sympathise with persons that 
 we know to be fictitious. We may be greatly moved by 
 the sufferings of persons related in tales, (such, for 
 example, as the Arabian Nights,) so extravagant as to 
 render it impossible to believe them. Who does not 
 sympathise in the sorrows of poor Sinbad the Sailor, 
 and yet who ever believed them ? It is not, therefore, 
 with a person that we sympathise, but with sufferings of 
 which we can form some conception from our own expe 
 rience. If the description of suffering do not recal to us 
 some suffering that we have experienced, it fails of 
 exciting our sympathy. We have no sympathy, for 
 example, with the Spirit of Loda in Ossian, when he was 
 cut in two by the sword of Fingal, except, perhaps, that 
 the shriek which he uttered as “ rolled into himself he 
 rose upon the wind,” suggests some obscure recollection 
 of anguish of some kind. Neither do we sympathise with 
 the effect of cannon shot on the angels in Paradise Lost, 
 simply because it recals nothing that we have ever 
 experienced, and is, therefore, unintelligible to us. 
 Nothing, therefore, we conceive, can be more evident 
 
158 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 than that sympathy for suffering is merely the ordinary 
 operation of the laws of suggestion. 
 
 The same observations are equally applicable to the 
 witnessing of causes of happiness operating on others. 
 In these cases, the feeling is too frequently impaired or 
 neutralised by envy, by regret that the happiness which 
 we witness in others is not our own ; so that the train 
 of pleasant suggestions or emotions which the witnessing 
 of the joy of others would naturally recal, is often super- 
 seded by a train of thought of an opposite description. 
 But when envy is excluded, as it naturally is when we 
 cordially love the person whose joy we witness, then do 
 we rejoice as unfeignedly with those who rejoice as we 
 weep with those who weep. 
 
 There is one difference to be noticed between sym- 
 pathising with pain or distress, and sympathising witl^ 
 pleasure — namely, that sympathising with pain is 
 naturally, or even necessarily accompanied with desire 
 to relieve it ; whereas sympathising with pleasure is 
 never accompanied with any desire to diminish or extin- 
 guish it. The pain of another person becomes, by sug- 
 gestion, our own pain, and, as we naturally desire to be 
 relieved from our own pain, we, for the same reason, 
 desire to be relieved from the pain of others. By 
 relieving others we remove an object that is calling up 
 to us painful emotions. There is no preventing this 
 desire but by inuring ourselves to scenes of human 
 misery, without seeking to relieve it, or, in other words, 
 by hardening the heart. 
 
 This view of sympathy also accounts for that infectious 
 sympathy which is often witnessed in crowded assemblies. 
 Some cause of alarm arises among an assembled multi- 
 tude. Every countenance instantly puts on the signals 
 of fear. We cannot turn to any side but we see what 
 recals some object of terror. Screams follow, violent 
 efforts are made by some to escape, all adding to the 
 suggestions of something terrible, till the people, seized 
 
SYMPATHY. 
 
 159 
 
 with panic, become frantic, and lose all command of 
 themselves. We remember an incident of this kind in 
 a crowded place of worship. Some crash occurred that 
 gave rise to the apprehension that the house, or at least 
 the gallery, was falling. The congregation were instantly 
 on their feet. Some began to make their way out. The 
 noise was becoming greater every moment. The clergy- 
 man, who saw the cause of the crash, and knew there 
 was no danger, endeavoured to calm the people, but his 
 voice was drowned in the confusion and noise. With 
 admirable presence of mind he addressed himself to 
 those who were near him, gave out a psalm to be sung, 
 and got them to join with him in singing it. This 
 sound, which spoke of safety and tranquillity, was 
 powerful enough to reach the extremities of the house. 
 The people who were hurrying out looked back and saw 
 a portion of the congregation quietly sitting engaged in 
 worship ; the soothing, and, at the same time, solemnising 
 effect gained the ascendancy, and the people gradually 
 returned to their seats, when the clergyman explained to 
 them the cause of the noise that had so much alarmed 
 them. 
 
 Some persons are moved to tears by the pathetic 
 address of an eloquent man, who, if they had heard 
 him alone, would have retained the most perfect com- 
 posure, but seeing the signs of grief in others, and having 
 grief vividly brought up before them, are shaken ; the 
 natural expressions of grief — the tears, the distortions of 
 countenance, the sobs, the wiping of eyes, becomes more 
 general, and advances in geometric ratio. Every new 
 person caught in the vortex of feeling draws in others, 
 till the whole audience becomes painfully affected ; and it 
 is sometimes said of such scenes, not a dry eye was to 
 be seen in the whole assembly. When, however, the 
 sympathetic cause has passed away, the greater part 
 wonder what made them weep and sob, and perhaps are 
 disposed to laugh when they think of it. 
 
160 INTELLECT, AS CONNECTED WITH EECOGNTTION. 
 
 So, at a circus or pantomime, a man appears with his 
 face grotesquely painted, arrayed in some fantastical 
 dress, grinning and perhaps assuming the gestures and 
 postures of an idiot — a sort of exhibition which, if seen 
 in a private room, would, unless in an assemblage of 
 children, excite no emotion but contempt and disgust. 
 But, in a crowded assembly, there are always some who 
 are ready to laugh at such fooleries. The laughing 
 countenances of some suggest the emotion of laughter 
 to others, who begin to laugh also ; sounds of laughter 
 are heard, the infection spreads, till a whole audience, 
 among whom, it may be, are many persons of grave and 
 sober temperament, is convulsed with laughter at they 
 scarce know what, and certainly at what, on the recol- 
 lection of it in private, cannot move them to a smile. 
 
 CHAPTEB VII. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL OPERATIONS AS CONNECTED WITH 
 RECOGNITION. 
 
 We have already observed that the mind having disco- 
 vered that it is in society with other minds similar to 
 itself, but of various characters, some fitted to promote 
 its happiness, others to render it unhappy, its discrimi- 
 nating powers are necessarily engaged in forming esti- 
 mates of the characters of all persons with whom it has 
 intercourse. It soon becomes one of the great busi- 
 nesses of human life to form judgments of character ; 
 and every man within the range of our acquaintanceship 
 holds a certain station in our estimation in regard to the 
 two great elements of character — namely, power to 
 give pleasure or to inflict pain ; to do good or evil ; and 
 disposition towards men generally, and toward ourselves 
 particularly. 
 
CLASSIFICATION INDUCTION. 
 
 161 
 
 Classification, 
 
 The characters of men are so infinitely varied, that it 
 is impossible to arrange them definitely under classes. 
 The only approach that can be made to such classifi- 
 cation is by reference to the more prominent attributes 
 of men in regard to power and in regard to disposition. 
 In regard to power, we call them rich poor, influential, 
 insignificant, able weak, learned ignorant, acute stupid, 
 witty, agreeable, tasteful, determined, inflexible, cowardly, 
 vacillating, cunning, simple ; or, in regard to disposition, 
 loving malicious, generous selfish, upright dishonest, 
 benevolent malignant, meek irascible ; or, more general 
 still, good or bad. But these various attributes of 
 character are so combined in such different degrees of 
 intensity in different individuals, that all classification 
 must necessarily be vague and indeterminate. 
 
 The nature of the intercourse of men with one another 
 admits of a rather more definite classification — as family 
 intercourse, commercial intercourse, political intercourse, 
 religious intercourse ; the intercourse of ruling and 
 obeying, teaching and learning, bestowing and receiving. 
 
 Induction. 
 
 Induction, as applied to human intercourse, is some- 
 times called moral induction, as distinguished from the 
 more certain inductions founded on material phenomena. 
 In moral inductions, namely, that certain sequences will 
 follow certain antecedents, because on former occasions 
 similar antecedents have been followed by such conse- 
 quents, the diflSculty is to ascertain that the antecedents 
 are the same. But till that be ascertained, no certain 
 induction can be made. Antecedents may be the same in 
 some respects, and yet be so different in others, that very 
 different consequences would result from them. Certain 
 measures have produced certain effects at one period, or 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 EEASONING. 
 
 in one nation, and it is argued that similar effects may 
 be expected from the same measures now, and in other 
 nations. But the antecedents may be altogether different 
 now. The measures proposed are not the whole of the 
 antecedents. The changes that may have taken place 
 in society, the advance of education and information, 
 the previous history of the nation, may he altogether 
 different from the previous history of that in which the 
 measures in question produced their effects. The laws 
 of Lycurgus, for example, could not be established in 
 any modern state of Europe or Asia. The military 
 tenures of land of the middle ages would be impracticable 
 in the present day. A public provision for the poor 
 which has succeeded in one country may be ruinous in 
 another. From thus confounding partially similar ante- 
 cedents with the same antecedents, laws have frequently 
 been enacted which have produced the very opposite 
 effects from those that were intended. 
 
 Reasoning, 
 
 Moral reasonings are liable to the same uncertainties 
 in a greater degree than simple moral inductions ; 
 namely, those which arise from the difficulty of ascer- 
 taining how far former antecedents and consequents, 
 on which the reasoning is founded, are identical with 
 those which are employed as media, and how far the 
 antecedents and consequents in the media are identical 
 with those in the conclusion. When the characters and 
 motives of men enter as elements into any process of 
 reasoning, they necessarily, from the impossibility of 
 ascertaining and defining them exactly, and reducing 
 them to accurately defined classes, communicate uncer- 
 tainty to a greater or less extent to all such reasonings. 
 There are some motives by which men generally are 
 influenced, which may, in ordinary circumstances, be 
 ^reckoned upon with tolerable certainty. The sciences 
 
EEASONTNG^ 
 
 1G3 
 
 of political economy and of legislation proceed upon the 
 influence of such motives, and frequently the sequences 
 which they predict are found to be realised according to 
 the prediction. But frequently, in consequence of the 
 erroneous estimates which legislators form of human 
 character, and of the motives likely to influence men, 
 the laws which they enact produce effects very different 
 from those which they intended and expected ; and some- 
 times not different from them merely, but directly the 
 reverse of them. This observation has been verified 
 very frequently in British laws referring to Ireland. It 
 has been verified in innumerable instances in laws 
 enacted for the controlling or regulating of religious 
 principle. Legislators, judging of other minds by their 
 own, have generally taken it for granted, that all men 
 would sacrifice any principle for their temporal interest, 
 especially when not only property, but liberty and life 
 were threatened. They seldom have been aware, that 
 in dealing with religious principle, they were dealing 
 with an element which, when earnestly and honestly held, 
 is infinitely more powerful than the highest and most 
 urgent temporal interests; and have attempted to get 
 rid of some religious belief or practice by confiscations, 
 imprisonments, fire, and sword ; often, alas ! by the 
 most inhuman tortures. They were not aware that they 
 were only impressing the people with a deeper sense 
 of the importance of their religious belief, and more 
 thoroughly convincing them that they could not abandon 
 it without exposing themselves to the horrors of eternal 
 damnation. And they have usually found, to their dis- 
 may, that the more they persecuted, the more firm hold 
 did the proscribed religious tenets take of the minds of 
 the people ; and that, when they succeeded, by an exten- 
 sive unscrupulous system of murder and torture, to quash 
 them for a time, it was only like a smouldering fire, ready 
 to break out with greater fury on the first favourable 
 opportunity. 
 
164 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Imagination. 
 
 The name imagination is given to various operations 
 of the mind, which seem to consist of very different 
 elements ; it is, therefore, impossible to give any accurate 
 definition or description of it, further than giving the 
 meaning and various applications of the English word. 
 
 The idea originally conveyed by the word imagination, 
 as its etymology indicates, was an image of some external 
 object in the mind. If that was an object that really 
 existed, and was perceived by the senses, the repre- 
 senting the image of it to the mind does not differ from 
 remembrance, as regulated by the laws of suggestion. 
 The vividness of the remembrance depends on the 
 degree of attention which it attracted when it was per- 
 ceived ; and that degree of attention, we have seen, 
 would be regulated by the intensity of the feeling of 
 pain or pleasure, or of emotion, such as wonder, desire, 
 or fear, that accompanied the perception of it. 
 
 Of this kind are those vivid images that rise in the 
 mind, caused by a morbid state of the brain, as in fevers 
 and delirium tremens. Of the same kind, probably, 
 were those visions, called in the Highlands of Scotland 
 “Second-sight,” and in Ireland “Ban Shee.” They 
 seem to have had their origin in an over-excited nervous 
 system, caused by the unsettled state of the country ; 
 the incessant feuds between neighbouring clans or 
 families, the constant dangers to which the people were 
 exposed ; the frequency of violent deaths, or deaths 
 caused by traversing a mountainous country under 
 covert of night — -deaths by snow, by drowning in swollen 
 torrents, by falls from precipices, by wolves or other 
 wild animals. Under such circumstances, the minds of 
 sensitive and timid persons were kept in constant dread 
 and anxiety for their own safety, and for the safety of 
 near relations ; and when that habitual anxiety was 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 1G5 
 
 increased by any actual danger, it was no more wonderful 
 that visions connected with their anxieties and terrors, 
 should occur, than it is that such visions are seen in 
 fevers affecting the brain. 
 
 To the same cause are to be traced all those super- 
 stitious terrors, or, as they aro often called, imaginary 
 terrors, that have been found to affect the minds, and 
 even the health and the lives, of ignorant people, such 
 as the dread of witches, wizards, priests of various tribes 
 of the most degraded of the heathen. The dread of 
 witches in Europe seems to have taken its rise from 
 poisoning having been practised by old women in the 
 corrupt times of the Koman empire. The feats of the 
 poisoners are very much the same as those ascribed 
 by popular tradition to witches. The Yenefica and 
 Canidia of Horace would form a good corresponding 
 group to the witches in Shakspeare’s Macbeth. The 
 priests and sorcerers of various tribes of savages pro- 
 bably established the terror of their mysterious power 
 by poison, till their threats, their malignant look, or 
 evil eye, as it was called in Scotland, called up such a 
 host of terrible objects to their minds — lingering, painful, 
 horrible deaths, that the terror excited often effected 
 the work of death without the actual administration of 
 poison. 
 
 If the object called up to the mind by suggestion be 
 not a real object, perhaps an object which could have 
 no real existence, as when the qualities of one object, or 
 class of objects, are ascribed to other objects, or, as when 
 scenes of one locality are transferred to another, we 
 have already expressed our persuasion that this operation 
 of what is called imagination is chiefly, if not wholly, 
 dependent on the use of language. Many of the objects 
 described by poets and others could raise up no 
 vivid image before the mind ; because the qualities or 
 attributes ascribed to the objects could not co-exist in 
 the same object. We conceive that these irreconcilable 
 
166 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 qualities, never seen together in the same natural object, 
 are brought together in the mind solely by the use of 
 language. And very frequently the vague, dim, uncer- 
 tain, wavering image that is thus made to float before 
 the mind, constitutes its chief attraction ; more vividness 
 would impair its effect. 
 
 Another operation of the mind, usually called ima- 
 gination, is the ascribing of mental qualities and opera- 
 tions to inanimate objects, or to inferior animals. Much 
 of the effect of poetry is produced in this way. Moun- 
 tains frown, valleys smile, waters repose, or rage, or 
 dance, the hills rejoice, a desolate land mourns, — and thus 
 all nature becomes instinct with life and feeling. From 
 the same source we have some of the most attractive 
 descriptions of inferior animals : Wilson’s Ornithology 
 derives its chief charm from this exercise of imagina- 
 tion. From the same source we have the commonwealths 
 of bees and of ants ; their w^orkers, their soldiers, their 
 drones, their officers and engineers, their queen, with 
 her guards, her royal residence, and her nurseries for the 
 young. We have also, from the same source, the tender 
 care of insects for their prospective young ; their provi- 
 dence in laying their eggs only where their young when 
 hatched shall find food ; in short, imagination repre- 
 senting their movements as being instigated by the 
 motives and feelings which impel men to similar acts. 
 
 The converse of this, namely, the ascribing to mind 
 qualities of inanimate matter, is another operation 
 called imagination ; as when we speak or hear of men of 
 iron, hearts of stone, or of steel, the sinking and 
 rising of the spirits, and innumerable others. 
 
 We have already seen that this exercise of imagina- 
 tion is not different from the discovery of points of 
 similarity or difference among our sensations, or the 
 objects of our perceptions. It may be supposed that 
 these resemblances, being not real, but the creation of 
 the mind, a power of the mind distinct from memory 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 167 
 
 with its laws of suggestion, is necessary to account for 
 them. But are they the mere creation of the mind ? 
 or is there any real resemblance which the mind does 
 not create, but only perceives? It would, we appre- 
 hend, be totally impossible to draw the line of distinc- 
 tion between those resemblances and differences which 
 are supposed to be discerned without imagination, 
 and those which should be ascribed to imagination. 
 Does, for example, the similarity between a raging 
 tempest and a raging man, belong to perception, or to 
 imagination ? There is a palpable resemblance between 
 the noise and violence of the one and of the other, which 
 gives rise to the same epithet {raging) being applied to 
 both. To which power should the resemblance between 
 a lake asleep and a man asleep be assigned ? There is 
 a resemblance applicable by discrimination exercised on 
 perceptions, between the stillness of the one and of 
 the other, that doubtless suggested the application of 
 the word sleep to both. So in most, or all, of the com- 
 parisons thus made between mind and matter ; they are 
 founded on real traits of resemblance between them in 
 some respect, — their nature, their origin, or their 
 sequences. One very general similarity will be found 
 between qualities of matter and of mind thus brought into 
 comparison ; namely, their both affording pleasure, or 
 causing pain, of some kind. Thus the weather is said 
 to threaten, because it indicates the approach of thunder, 
 or rain, or tempest, which will give pain ; or, it is said 
 to promise, because it indicates the approach of sun- 
 shine, which will afford pleasure ; or, because it is 
 favourable for the harvest, which will afford still greater, 
 although more distant, pleasure. 
 
 Still another operation of mind, which falls under the 
 word imagination, consists in what is sometimes called 
 inventing or creating characters or incidents. We are 
 inclined to think that there is much less of invention 
 than of memory and discrimination and selection in this 
 
168 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 phase of imagination. We do not mean to say that 
 every character or incident thus depicted had a real 
 existence, just as it is described by the writer of fiction ; 
 but that from among many remembered traits of cha- 
 racter, some are selected which suit the author’s purpose, 
 and are combined by him in one person, distinguished 
 by certain acts and a certain name ; and the skill of 
 drawing such characters consists chiefly in making a 
 judicious selection of traits, such as will not appear 
 inconsistent with one another, and such as hear upon 
 the author’s design. A similar explanation may he 
 given of the invention of incidents. We daily hear or 
 read of so many incidents, that any man who directs his 
 mind to the describing of interesting incidents has 
 ample stores to cull from, laid up in his memory, 
 which, without any other power than that of suggestion 
 and discrimination, may be made available for any 
 purpose. A simple matter of fact is announced in the 
 newspapers of the day, or is witnessed by us, — say that a 
 boy fell into a river, and was in imminent danger of 
 being drowned, 'when a person passing by sprang into 
 the river and saved him. Now it surely requires no 
 original power of mind beyond suggestion, directed by 
 the desire of obtaining an incident such as may be 
 sought, to convert the boy into a beautiful and in- 
 teresting young female, — the man who sprang into the 
 water into her lover. Nor is there any power of mind 
 beyond suggestion required to imagine many interesting 
 things that might be said and done by both parties, and 
 by the relations of each, in accordance with their several 
 characters and the design of the author. 
 
 The highest exercise of what is usually called imagi- 
 nation, and the most difficult to account for, is the 
 dramatic, in which an author not only draws a character, 
 selecting such traits as favour his design, but so enters 
 into the feelings and motives and manners of the 
 imaginary person of his own construction, as to make 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 169 
 
 him act and speak in accordance with the character with 
 which he has invested him. We are inclined to think 
 that there is something approaching to a refined mimicry 
 in this talent. There are some persons who can witli 
 surprising accuracy mimic the tones of the voice, the 
 gait, and manner of others. There are some who can 
 add to this a mimicry of the sentiments and expressions 
 and actions of persons with whom they associate. They 
 can suppose them to be placed in certain circumstances 
 —for example, under some provocation to anger, or some 
 excitement to fear, and successfully mimic their language 
 and actions in the supposed circumstances. There are 
 some who can achieve a still higher and more refined 
 mimicry by imitating the style of thinking and writing 
 of other persons. A remarkable example of that talent 
 the public had some years ago in the well-known work 
 entitled “ The Eejected Addresses,” in which the style 
 of thought and expression of some of the most popular 
 authors of the day, and these no ordinary men, is imitated 
 with surprising success. It is but one step further for 
 an author to form out of the stores of the elements of 
 character and modes of thought and expression laid up 
 in his memory, the conception of a character having 
 certain attributes, and placed in certain circumstances, 
 and so to realise the conception as to imitate, if we may 
 use the expression, the style of thought and language 
 of the kind of person of whom he has formed a vivid 
 image in his own mind. 
 
 If this be a true account of the talent which we are 
 considering, or if it have any approximation to truth, 
 then the operations of the mind displayed in it consist 
 in a very exact observance of character, and of the re- 
 semblances and differences between different characters, 
 the mode of thinking, speaking, and acting exhibited by 
 different individuals in similar or in different circum- 
 stances, and in the judicious selection of such traits of 
 character as shall not merely not be inconsistent with 
 
170 
 
 BEAUTY AND SUBLIMITY. 
 
 another, but as are suitable to the imaginary character 
 to be portrayed. It is, in short, an exact discrimi- 
 nation of resemblances applied, not to material objects, 
 but to different traits of character, the suggestion and 
 selection of such traits of character with which the 
 memory is stored, as suit the imaginary person to be 
 introduced into the scenes of life, and the rejection of 
 all others. And the mental qualities upon which the 
 dramatic talent depends are the powers of minute and 
 exact observation of character, of forming realising con- 
 ceptions of the mental powers, feelings, and motives of 
 different individuals, and a delicate perception of what 
 language and style of thinking is exhibited by different 
 individuals in different circumstances. We are inclined 
 to think that there is much more of mimicry, and less of 
 creation, in the dramatic talent, than is commonly sup- 
 posed. We are inclined to think that the best drawn 
 characters are portraits from nature, (as the best historical 
 paintings are,) with a little modification. A really original 
 character would fail to attract sympathy. To render a 
 fictitious character intelligible and interesting, it must 
 have thoughts, and feelings, and motives, and actions 
 ascribed to it which can be appreciated by men generally, 
 and therefore must be taken from the ordinary walks of 
 human life. 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 ON TASTE, OR THE APPRECIATION OF BEAUTY AND 
 SUBLIMITY. 
 
 We have assigned to what has been called a sense of 
 beauty, or taste, a chapter to itself in this division of our 
 work, as being neither a mere emotion, nor a mere dis- 
 cernment, but a discernment of qualities or relations 
 among external objects, which carries along with it a 
 
BEAUTY AND SUBLIMITY. 
 
 171 
 
 certain pleasing emotion, for which we have no better 
 name than taste. The qualities or relations among 
 objects which excite this peculiar feeling, we express by 
 such words as beautiful, elegant, tasteful, graceful, sub- 
 lime, and others. We have, therefore, not called it an 
 emotion, nor a discernment of beauty or sublimity, but an 
 appreciation of beauty and sublimity. The phrase does 
 not entirely satisfy us, but we cannot think of a better 
 one. We have placed it under the division of mental 
 phenomena, dependent on recognitions, because, in arti- 
 ficially exciting the appreciation or feeling of beauty or 
 sublimity in the minds of others, the most frequent, and 
 perhaps the most efficient, mode of procedure, is to 
 suggest to them the remembrance of pleasant sensations, 
 or of objects yielding pleasant sensations, or objects 
 exciting awe and terror. We deem this, therefore, the 
 most fit place in which to introduce our views on the 
 subject. 
 
 Some recent writers, of great ability, have contended 
 that the feeling of beauty or sublimity always arises 
 from the suggestion of pleasing or terrific objects. 
 We cannot, however, accede to the doctrine that all 
 beauty or sublimity is referable ultimately to mind, — 
 that the beauty, for example, of an evening sky is 
 derived solely from its suggesting to us ideas of repose 
 and peacefulness ; for there are many objects which still 
 more vividly call up thoughts of repose and peacefulness 
 which yet excite no idea or feeling of beauty ; as, for 
 example, a bed or bed-room, a person or an inferior 
 animal asleep. We apprehend that, so far from the 
 association or suggestion of pleasant objects being the 
 sole foundation of our appreciation of beauty or sublimity, 
 it has nothing to do with the subject. We do not mean, 
 of course, to say, that beautiful objects may not be called 
 up to the mind by suggestion, or that the power of calling 
 up scenes of pleasure and comfort in other minds may 
 not, in the exercise of it, excite the feeling of beauty. 
 
172 
 
 BEAUTY AND SUBLIMITY 
 
 But we apprehend that no suggestion could create the 
 feeling or appreciation of beauty. Objects that suggest 
 thoughts of comfort are not on that account beautiful. 
 A parlour may remind us of pleasant scenes, happy 
 faces, cheerful conversations, — all the delights of domes- 
 tic society ; yet the parlour may never be regarded by us 
 as itself a beautiful object. The kitchen fire, to which 
 we may have betaken ourselves when we were cold 
 and drenched with wet, will as often as we see it, or think 
 of it, suggest to us ideas of great comfort ; hut it may 
 never occur to us that the kitchen or the fire were in 
 themselves beautiful objects. Unless there be notions 
 or feelings of beauty in the mind, we apprehend that no 
 suggestion of agreeable objects will create them. A 
 foundation must be laid in the qualities or relations of 
 external objects, and also in the mind itself, for the 
 appreciation of beauty or sublimity, else there could be 
 no such appreciation. 
 
 There are several distinctions that must be attended 
 to before we can attain to clear notions on this difficult 
 subject. There is, first, the difference between beauty 
 and sublimity, which is so great as to require them to 
 be treated separately, although the appreciation of both 
 is called by the same name — taste. Then, there are 
 those qualities in material objects that convey ideas of 
 beauty. Still further, there are those qualities of mind 
 that convey the same or analogical ideas or conceptions 
 of beauty ; then there are the qualities in works of art 
 which convey conceptions and feelings of beauty. And, 
 lastly, there are the same distinctions with regard to 
 sublimity, — namely, those qualities in material objects, 
 those qualities in mind, and those qualities in works of 
 art, which awaken feelings of the sublime. 
 
 I. — Material objects. 
 
 It has been strongly contended, that there are no 
 qualities or relations in external nature which are in 
 
BEA.UTY AND SUBLIMITY. 
 
 173 
 
 themselves beautiful or sublime, but that all external 
 objects which excite such feelings do so, from their sug- 
 gesting mental qualities or states, and that any other 
 pleasures that they excite are merely pleasant sensations. 
 Avery large proportion, indeed, of those external objects 
 which excite feelings of beauty or sublimity, do so from 
 their suggesting mental states or qualities. A very 
 large proportion of what we regard as beautiful or sub- 
 lime in a landscape, a rising or setting sun, a variegated 
 country of hill and dale, woodland and open pasturage, a 
 clear and cloudless sky, or a sky betokening thunder and 
 tempest, derives much of its beauty or sublimity from 
 its suggesting such mental states or qualities as peace, 
 repose, comfort, happiness, power, anger, complacency ; 
 but independently of such resemblances, we apprehend 
 that there are qualities in material objects themselves 
 which excite the feelings of beauty and sublimity. 
 
 Sensations being pleasant or painful are not on that 
 account beautiful or sublime, either when experienced 
 or when remembered. We do not apply the word beauty 
 or sublimity to sensations of smell, or taste, or touch ; 
 but confine such expressions to sensations of sight and 
 hearing. Nor are mere sensations of seeing or hearing, 
 however pleasant, beautiful or sublime. These feelings 
 are excited by qualities in external objects. A mere 
 uniform colour occupying the whole range of vision is 
 not beautiful or sublime, nor does a sensation of uniform 
 sound exciting a pleasant titillation, like the sounding of 
 perfect thirds or fifths together, although very pleasant, 
 excite such a feeling of beauty as is appreciated by 
 taste. We may call it beautiful, as we may call the 
 smell of a rose beautiful, but it is a mere pleasant 
 sensation, not an appreciation of beauty. 
 
 But if we can find qualities or relations in material 
 objects which convey conceptions or feelings of beauty 
 or sublimity, not by mere sensation, on the one hand, 
 nor by suggesting mental qualities or states on the other, 
 
174 
 
 BEAUTY IN MATERIAL OBJECTS. 
 
 we shall have found qualities or relations of bodies 
 which excite feelings of beauty or sublimity properly so 
 called. 
 
 Of beauty in material objects. 
 
 1. The tones of the musical scale, sung or played in any 
 order, are pleasing, but especially the tones of the triad, 
 the 1st, 3rd, and 5th of the scale, or the 5th, 7th, and 
 2nd, or 4th, 6th, and 8th, or the 6th, 8th, and 3rd, and 
 several other chords which may he found in the scale. 
 These tones sounded together, or in succession, in any 
 order, are pleasant. A pleasing musical sound, without 
 relation to any other sounds, is a mere pleasant sensa- 
 tion ; but in the tones of a scale, and, still more, in the 
 tones of the common chord or triad, there is something 
 more of pleasure than the mere titillation of a pleasant 
 sensation. It is true that these tones of the scale may 
 be so employed as to suggest particular states of mind, 
 as joy, sadness, &c. ; hut that is another pleasure alto- 
 gether. And mere tones of the scale or the triad, with- 
 out selection, but played up and down on the instrument 
 in any order, are not fitted to excite the remembrance of 
 any beautiful object. We conceive, therefore, that there 
 are three distinct sources of pleasure in musical sounds. 
 There is, first, a mere pleasant sensation; there is, 
 secondly, the pleasure derived from hearing the same 
 tones in their relation to one another, which is properly 
 beauty; and there is, lastly, the pleasure of the sug- 
 gesting of pleasing ideas or states of mind. 
 
 Some think that variety would account for the pleasure 
 derived from the relation of the sounds of the scale to 
 one another. But variety of tone will not account for 
 the phenomenon ; because there would be greater variety 
 in the introduction of tones not belonging to the scale, 
 or tones intended to be of the scale, but out of tune. 
 No pleasantness of sound would compensate for the 
 introduction of tones not belonging to the scale. 
 
BEAUTY IN MATEKIAL OBJECTS. 
 
 175 
 
 Here, then, we conceive that we have found one of 
 the original sources of the conception or appreciation of 
 beauty. 
 
 2. Nearly the same observations are applicable to the 
 seven colours of the spectrum. These are beautiful seen 
 together, or in immediate succession, and especially the 
 three primary colours, red, blue, and yellow. Indeed, 
 the m*any recondite analogies that exist between sound 
 and colour seem to indicate that there is an occult 
 power of the mind, in which they stand as identical. 
 The pleasure derived from a clear brilliant colour is 
 strikingly analogous to the pleasure derived from a clear 
 brilliant musical tone. The mingling of any two of the 
 primary colours produces an effect similar to the mingling 
 of any two of the tones of a musical triad ; and the 
 exhibition, in succession, of the colours of the spectrum 
 is analogous to the succession of the tones of the musical 
 scale. Here, then, we have another origiual source of 
 the appreciation of beauty. 
 
 3. Order and symmetry in visible objects communicate, 
 we conceive, a pleasure different from sensation on the 
 one hand, and from the suggestion of pleasant sensations, 
 or objects yielding pleasant sensations, on the other, and 
 therefore constitute a third original source of the appre- 
 ciation of beauty. Of this source of the conception and 
 feeling of beauty we have at once a proof and illustration 
 in the kaleidoscope. Take a little bit of crockery- ware, 
 or a rusty nail, or a bit of paper, — things which are 
 as destitute of beauty in themselves as any that we 
 can imagine, — put them into a kaleidoscope, and the 
 mere repetition of them, in a symmetrical order by 
 reflection, instantly conveys the conception and feeling of 
 beauty. Now, this is not mere sensation ; nor is it sug- 
 gestion, for we know of no mental state, nor any pleasant 
 object, which the spectrum of the kaleidoscope recals. 
 It is perhaps more like a flower than any other object 
 in nature; but certainly its eflect in awakening the 
 
176 
 
 BEAUTY IN MATEEIAL OBJECTS. 
 
 conception and feeling of beauty does not depend on 
 reminding us of a flower. Few, perhaps, we apprehend, 
 would be reminded of a flower, or of any other natural 
 object, by some of the most beautiful spectra of the 
 kaleidoscope. A native of Labrador or Greenland, who 
 might never have seen a flower, would, we doubt not, be 
 affected by the images of that instrument. 
 
 It seems much more probable that the beauty of the 
 forms of flowers depends on the symmetrical order of 
 their petals, and other parts, than that the kaleidoscope 
 should derive its powers of communicating the concep- 
 tion and feeling of beauty from its calling up the 
 remembrances of flowers, or of any other natural object. 
 Perhaps no one ever had the pleasure which he has 
 received by looking through a kaleidoscope enhanced by 
 associating it with the soft texture or fragrance of a rose 
 or a carnation, or with scenes in which these flowers are 
 found. 
 
 The Deity seems to have fitted the soul for deriving 
 pleasure from order and symmetry, and to have availed 
 himself of that capability of the soul to communicate 
 pleasure to it by the infinitely varied symmetrical forms 
 of external objects. Besides flowers, to which may be 
 added crystals, all the higher orders of animals are 
 formed of two parts precisely corresponding to one 
 another, as the reflections in the kaleidoscope. A central 
 perpendicular line drawn from the crown of the head to 
 the feet divides the human countenance and figure into 
 two exactly corresponding parts, answering to one an- 
 other with the most perfect exactness. Such also is the 
 construction of all quadrupeds, birds, fishes, insects. 
 On a similar rule of construction is formed every leaf of 
 the foliage of trees and every blade of grass ; and doubt- 
 less it is from this symmetry of form that these objects 
 derive their beauty. Symmetry and regularity thus 
 seem to furnish us with another original source of the 
 conception and feeling of beauty. 
 
SUBLIMITY IN MATERIAL OBJECTS. 
 
 177 
 
 4. Variety is another source of beauty ; not, however, 
 simple variety, hut variety combined with order and 
 symmetry. Variety is, therefore, rather an enhancement 
 of the beauty of symmetry than an independent source 
 of beauty. Of this principle also the Deity has availed 
 himself in beautifying the world. The variety of organised 
 forms in the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms is 
 inconceivably great. Every such object possesses variety 
 combined with symmetry. When the countenances and 
 forms of men and other animals are traced latitudinally, 
 they consist of two parts, as we have said, precisely cor- 
 responding to one another. When traced longitudinally, 
 from the head to the feet, the outline is continually 
 varying. Here, then, if not an independent original 
 source of beauty, we have an enhancement of the beauty 
 of form. 
 
 Sublimity in material objects. 
 
 The feeling of sublimity is not, as some have supposed, 
 the feeling of beauty exaggerated. A minute flower 
 may be exquisitely beautiful, and perhaps will appear 
 the more beautiful the more minute it is ; but it can 
 never be sublime. The tones of a little musical box 
 may be exquisitely beautiful, from their being a varied 
 succession of the tones of the scale, frequently combined 
 into chords, and accompanied with the order of rhythm 
 or accent, and with a certain symmetry of composition, 
 one part answering to another, as in the spectrum of the 
 kaleidoscope ; but by no arrangement could such sounds 
 ever be made sublime. The sources of beauty wdiich 
 we have enumerated are in truth rather unfavourable to 
 sublimity than otherwise. Harmony of colour or of 
 sound, symmetry, order with variety, not only could 
 never of themselves excite the feeling of sublimity, but 
 would detract from the sublimity of objects that without 
 them would be sublime. A mountain cut into the 
 regular form of a cube or a pyramid, would be less 
 
178 
 
 SUBLIMITY IN MATERIAL OBJECTS. 
 
 sublime than the same mountain left in its original irre- 
 gular form, with its yawning chasms, its jutting crags, 
 and stupendous precipices. The various sounds of a 
 powerful ring of bells, heard in succession, are more 
 beautiful, but less sublime, than the clash of all the 
 bells together ; although that makes a hideous discord, 
 utterly devoid of beauty. 
 
 There are two qualities in external objects that seem 
 to be the chief, if not the only, sources of the conception 
 and feeling of sublimity, — namely, vastness, and power 
 or energy. 
 
 Anything vast, that puts our faculties to the stretch 
 to comprehend it, or still more if it pass our compre- 
 hension, is felt as sublime. The vault of heaven, the 
 boundless ocean, the immense distances of the heavenly 
 bodies, as discovered by astronomy, are in the highest 
 degree sublime. Abstract notions such as infinite space 
 or eternity, are sublime, from their including an incom- 
 prehensible vastness. 
 
 The other source of sublimity is power, force, or 
 energy. A cataract, a tempest, a loud peal of thunder, 
 a flash of lightning, a volcano, whether at rest or in 
 active eruption, are sublime, from the conception of 
 great power which they communicate. Great force, 
 in comparison with human strength, though immeasur- 
 ably inferior to these natural objects, may excite the 
 notion and feeling of sublimity, as the fire of artillery, the 
 spring and roar of a lion, the coil of the boa constrictor, 
 the terrible energy of the shark, are sublime objects. 
 From the same cause, venomous animals, — the scorpion, 
 the cobra capella, the rattlesnake, and other deadly 
 serpents, may, in many situations, be felt as sublime. 
 
 Both of these sources of sublimity, in external objects, 
 are increased by obscurity. A lofty mountain, the 
 expanse of ocean, are more sublime in the twilight, or 
 covered with a certain amount of mist, than in bright, 
 clear sunshine. The sublimity of a tempest, and of 
 
CONCEPTION OF BEAUTY AND SUBLIMITY. 179 
 
 thunder and lightning, is greater in the night than 
 during the day. So the rattle of a rattlesnake, although 
 we may be in perfect safety from its assault, becomes 
 sublime when heard in the darkness of night. 
 
 In short, clearness, regularity, symmetry, polish, in 
 external objects, and variety connected with these quali- 
 ties, communicate the pleasure of beauty ; whereas, 
 vastness, power, obscurity, awaken the conception and 
 feeling of sublimity. 
 
 We are much inclined to think, with Burke, that a 
 certain degree of fear is a necessary ingredient in the 
 feeling of sublimity. Not a sense of personal danger, 
 for subjective sublimity has high enjoyment connected 
 with it, and the dread of danger would be inconsistent 
 with that enjoyment; but that degree of awe which 
 comes over the spirit when we contemplate any object 
 of vast extent or magnitude, or any great exhibition of 
 power or energy. 
 
 11,— Qualities of mind that awaken the conception and 
 feeling of beauty and sublimity. 
 
 Mental Beauty. — Those qualities of mind that ex- 
 cite the feeling of beauty are more diversified than 
 those in matter. They are, however, analogous to the 
 qualities in matter which awaken a feeling of beauty : 
 order, regularity, calmness amidst incentives to con- 
 tention, gentleness, well-regulated affections, generosity, 
 a symmetrical mind, in which the various faculties are 
 in well-balanced exercise. In regard to intellect, that 
 mind is beautiful that is enlightened with important 
 knowledge, — that, with apparent ease and little labour, 
 can discern differences and resemblances in material or 
 mental objects, can classify them judiciously, so as to 
 have its knowledge always at command. To be beau- 
 tiful, there must also be a just proportion between the 
 intellect and the emotions. A mind may he deformed 
 
 N 2 
 
180 
 
 MENTAL SUBLIMITY. 
 
 by having a great excess of feeling over its intellectual 
 power, or great intellectual power with little sensibility. 
 
 Mental Sublimity. — The sublime in minds viewed 
 as objects, as in matter, consists in qualities that convey 
 the conception and feeling of vastness or energy. In 
 intellect, a wide grasp of understanding, such as that of 
 Sir Isaac Newton, is a sublime object. The mind of a 
 great monarch, swaying an extensive empire with wisdom 
 and calm dignity, is another sublime object. Minds of 
 great energy — Achilles, as painted by Homer, Alexander 
 of Macedon, Julius Caesar, Bonaparte, and others — are 
 sublime. Such barbarians as Genghis Khan, Timor 
 Beg, Alaric, and others, are too destitute of intellect 
 and too ferocious to be sublime. Their invasions were 
 too like mere irruptions of hungry wolves, with power 
 from their numbers to destroy, but without any exhibi- 
 tion of mental energy, to be sublime. Passions and 
 affections may become sublime if they beget acts of 
 great self-denial, the braving of imminent danger, the 
 surmounting of great obstacles, the enduring of great 
 sufferings with equanimity. Even vices may acquire a 
 sort of sublimity by their fearful intensity. A kind of 
 awe is upon the spirit, which, if not sublimity, is nearly 
 akin to it in contemplating the artful, dark, unscrupulous* 
 and energetic character of Caesar Borgia. Lord Byron 
 seemed most to delight in attempting to excite this 
 variety of the sublime. In short, it is in mind as it is 
 in matter, calmness, clearness, order, symmetry, polish, 
 benevolence, beneficence, contribute to beauty ; whereas 
 great expanse or force of intellect, and more especially 
 great energy of character, heightened also by darkness 
 and mystery, contribute to sublimity. 
 
 We must, however, take care not to confound those 
 objective qualities of mind or matter which excite con- 
 ceptions and feelings of beauty or sublimity, with the 
 artificial awakening of the subjective sublime or beautiful. 
 
ARTIFICIAL EXCITEMENTS OF BEAUTY, 
 
 181 
 
 III. — The artificial excitement of the emotions of beauty 
 and sublimity. 
 
 All works of art aim at the excitement of the one or 
 the other of these emotions. The painter, the statuary, 
 the architect, the musical composer, the poet, so far as 
 their works are to be regarded as works of art, seek to 
 excite feelings of beauty or of sublimity. Other aims may 
 mingle with these, as communicating information, pathos, 
 utility ; but it is the exciting of conceptions of beauty, 
 or sublimity, that entitles their works to rank among 
 specimens of the fine arts. 
 
 The artificial excitement of beauty. 
 
 Here the artist has a much wider range of objects to 
 make use of, than those which are in themselves beautiful. 
 All objects, even the homeliest, which suggest thoughts 
 of comfort and happiness, become beautiful when vividly 
 recalled by such arts as painting, music, and poetry. 
 The sleeping peasant, the parlour, the kitchen fire, 
 may have no beauty in themselves, yet may, when 
 skilfully introduced by the artist seeking to fill the 
 mind with pleasant thoughts, become exceedingly 
 beautiful. In addition, therefore, to objects beautiful 
 in themselves, material or mental, the artist may 
 employ all objects fitted to recal pleasant sensations or 
 emotions of any kind. 
 
 2. Artists must avail themselves of those qualities 
 which in themselves are sources of beauty, according to 
 the nature of their several arts. 
 
 Musicians must avail themselves of clear, pleasing 
 tones, and of the notes of the diatonic scale, and the 
 combined tones of the triad. They must convey notions 
 of order and symmetry by the regular return of their 
 accents and cadences, by their corresponding passages, 
 
182 
 
 AKTIFICIAL EXCITEMENTS OF BEAUTY. 
 
 and by the orderly and symmetrical construction of their 
 whole work, whether longer or shorter. They must 
 avail themselves of variety, by the different lengths of 
 their tones ; if the work be long, by different rhythms 
 introduced into it, by passing from scale to scale in 
 modulation, and by different expressions, as the pathetic, 
 or the joyful, or the excited ; even by an admixture of 
 tamer and more discordant passages, to give relief and 
 effect to passages of feeling and brilliancy. 
 
 Painters must avail themselves of light and shade, 
 and also of harmony of colouring; that is, of a due mixture 
 of red, blue and yellow, either pure or mixed with 
 one another. The picture must not be too blue, or too 
 red, or too yellow. The light and shade, and also the 
 colours, must be distributed in some order, and symme- 
 trically. One side of the picture must not be all light, 
 and the other all dark ; one side must not be of a 
 reddish or brownish tinge, and the other side blue or 
 purple. But the lights and shades, and also the colours, 
 must be arranged somewhat in kaleidoscope fashion ; a 
 central light and central colour, with secondary lights 
 and similar colours appearing in different parts of the 
 picture around the centre. Variety also must be studied 
 in the objects introduced, in forms, in colours, in coun- 
 tenances, in attitudes, in expressions. Yet that variety 
 must be in subordination to order and symmetry. 
 
 The statuary having nothing to do with sound or 
 colour, must attend to those sources of beauty which 
 remain. His chief aim must be the expression of 
 mental beauty, as ease, dignity, calmness, benevolence ; 
 but he must study symmetry in the attitudes of his 
 figures, and in grouping them. And here we find the 
 same fundamental principle of a central principal object, 
 and inferior objects grouped in subordination to it. 
 Variet}^ also must be attended to. In a single figure, 
 the limbs on the same side must not be both extended 
 forward, and on the other side drawn back ; but there 
 
ARTIFICIAL EXCITEMENTS OF BEAUTY. 
 
 183 
 
 must be variety in the positions of the head and the 
 body, and the limbs. In groups of figures, they must 
 not be all looking one way, or in the same attitude, or 
 of the same height, like the Egyptian pictures and 
 engravings on stone ; but variety must be exhibited in 
 the attitudes, positions, heights, &c., in combination 
 with order and symmetry. 
 
 The architect’s art depends almost entirely on order, 
 symmetry, and proportion of parts. He must indeed 
 adapt the style of his building to the purposes of it, as 
 we shall have occasion to notice more distinctly imme- 
 diately ; but whatever style he may adopt, so far as the 
 producing of the pleasure of beauty is concerned, he 
 has chiefly to do with order and symmetry. And the 
 nature of the symmetry, especially of Grecian and Koman 
 architecture, is of the same nature with that of the 
 human body, — a central perpendicular line, on each side 
 of which, the one half of the building is the exact coun- 
 terpart of the other, like two of the reflections in a 
 kaleidoscope. In tracing the building from the base 
 to the summit, there is, as in tracing the human figure 
 from the feet to the head, an unceasing variety of form ; 
 in tracing any part of the building from side to side 
 on the same level, there is, in most specimens, an exact 
 uniformity. When variety is introduced, latitudinally, 
 on the same level, it is minute, and it must be 
 repeated at the corresponding position on the opposite 
 side of the perpendicular central line. The Gothic, or 
 more early middle-age architecture, follows nearly the 
 same rules. In more modern architecture of the same 
 kind, more variety of form is introduced ; the greater 
 variety in some measure compensating for the deficiency 
 of uniformity. But even that variety must have its 
 limits, and must be subordinate to order and symmetry. 
 A building patched up of Grecian, Gothic, Saracenic 
 and Chinese architectures, would be a mass of deformity. 
 
 Poets must act on the same principles. They must 
 
184 ARTIFICIAL PRODUCTION OF THE SUBLIME. 
 
 convey ideas and feelings of order and symmetry in their 
 rhythm, the structure of their stanzas or periods, or their 
 rhyme; also in the general structure of their poems. 
 Whether longer or shorter, they must, to be beautiful, 
 have a certain symmetry of parts. There must not be 
 a long elaborate exordium to a short poem, nor episodes 
 out of proportion to it ; but its various parts must be in 
 keeping with a central aim or principal subject. It must 
 also have variety, as much variety as the structure of 
 the verse and the nature of the subject will admit of. 
 The poet, therefore, is not confined to the rigid order of 
 the historian, or the essayist, whose chief object is 
 truth, and not beauty ; but may take a more excursive 
 range, with more abrupt transitions. The relation which 
 the Iliad, the ^Eneid, and Paradise Lost, bear to history, 
 and which Pope’s Essay on Man or Cowper’s poems 
 bear to prose essays, will show what liberties must be 
 taken with narrative or discussion, to make it poetically 
 beautiful 
 
 The artificial ^production of the sublime. 
 
 In producing feelings of sublimity, as of beauty, the 
 artist has a wider range than merely suggesting objects 
 which are sublime in themselves. Objects and scenes' 
 which, seen immediately, would be simply horrible and 
 terrific, may, when brought before the mind, in the miti- 
 gated form of painting, or music, or poetical description, 
 produce the feeling of sublimity. The consciousness 
 of perfect safety, while contemplating a terrific scene, 
 leaves the mind at liberty to appreciate the sublimity of 
 it. Bonaparte is said to have declared that the view 
 of the conflagration of Moscow from the Kremlin, was 
 the sublimest sight he had ever seen. In a mind less 
 inured to scenes of human misery, the mass of wretched- 
 ness involved in that catastrophe, the deeds of rapine, and 
 cruelty, and lawless lust, which he well knew were being 
 perpetrated, and the danger of intense suffering to which 
 
ARTIFICIAL PRODUCTION OF THE SUBLIME. 185 
 
 his own army was exposed by it, would have left room 
 for no feeling but intense distress and anxiety. But he 
 was personally safe himself, and the sufferings of others, 
 or the perpetration of the most enormous crimes, gave 
 him little concern ; so that he had composure sufficient 
 to note and appreciate the sublimity of the scene, not- 
 withstanding the unexampled horrors with which it was 
 accompanied. The feeling of sublimity is produced by 
 means totally different from the feeling of beauty. 
 Clearness of sound or of colour, harmony, symmetry, 
 variety, are rather unfavourable to it than otherwise. 
 Whatever calls up thoughts of vastness and power, 
 obscurity or mystery, contributes to it. 
 
 In music, sublimity is attained chiefly by conveying 
 the conceptions of great multitudes under the influence 
 of various strong emotions. Many of Handel’s choruses 
 are eminently so. In one passage in Haydn’s Creation, 
 the idea of a -shriek arising out of some dark and troubled 
 scene, is conveyed with great effect, and is terrifically 
 sublime. 
 
 The painter’s power of awakening sublimity lies 
 chiefly in calling up thoughts of vastness or power : — 
 huge objects looming through twilight or mist, tempests 
 by sea or land, dark and furious passions in operation, 
 and the avoiding of too distinct lights and outlines, and 
 high finishing. 
 
 The architect’s sublimity lies chiefly in the greatness, 
 massiveness, and simplicity of his structures. The 
 pyramids of Egypt and its colossal statues are sublime 
 from their vast bulk. The high finish and beautiful 
 proportions of the Grecian temples were unfavourable 
 to sublimity. St. Peter’s, at Rome, St. Sophia’s, at 
 Constantinople, and St. Paul’s, in London, and other 
 similar structures, are sublime from the power that is 
 suggested in sustaining their vast domes at so great a 
 height. The Colosseum is sublime from its prodigious 
 extent, and the simplicity of its structure. It is 
 
186 AKTIFICTAL PKODUCTION OF THE SUBLIME. 
 
 incomparably more so in the obscurity of the twilight 
 or moonlight, than in the blaze of an Italian day. Its 
 architectural ornaments add little to its beauty, and they 
 detract from its sublimity. St. Peter’s is less beautiful, 
 but more sublime, than St. Paul’s, not only from its 
 greater bulk, but from its being more simple in its 
 ground plan, and less ornamented. 
 
 The sublimity of the statuary consists chiefly in his 
 conveying ideas of great strength of body, or great 
 power of thought, or of character. There is a pro- 
 digious massiveness in some of the figures of Michael 
 Angelo, and a kind of obscurity produced by their 
 postures, and the positions in which they are placed 
 with respect to light and shadow, which contributes 
 much to their sublimity. 
 
 The poet has a wider range for the production of 
 sublimity than any of the other artists. The whole 
 range of nature, material and mental, and the whole 
 illimitable range of actual or possible events, are at his 
 command to cull from ; and to produce sublimity, he 
 must seek to call up the same conceptions with his 
 fellow artists, vastness, power, scenes of terror veiled in 
 obscurity and indistinctness, yet sufficiently distinct to 
 convey vividly the general features of them. Blank 
 verse seems more favourable to the sublime than rhyme. 
 It would seem scarcely possible to excite feelings of 
 sublimity by the smooth and polished couplets of Pope, 
 or even by the rougher and more manly couplets of 
 Dryden. Irregular versification seems also more fitted 
 for awakening feelings of sublimity than of beauty. 
 Although, perhaps, the sublime has never been more 
 perfectly attained than in some of the stanzas of 
 Campbell : — 
 
 “ As we drifted on our path, 
 
 There was silence deep as death. 
 
 And the boldest held his breath, 
 
 For a time.” 
 
ARTIFICIAL PRODUCTION OF THE SUBLIME. 187 
 Or, agaiD, in his Hohenlinden,” — 
 
 “ Then shook the hills, by thunder riven. 
 
 Then flew the steed, to battle driven, 
 
 And, louder than the bolts of heaven, 
 
 Far flashed the red artillery.” 
 
 We know of nothing in any language more sublime 
 than these stanzas, and the more so from their sim- 
 plicity. There is no effort to get up sublime scenes, 
 but the happy choice of a few features, and the admirable 
 selection of words, effect what pages of elaborate 
 description would fail to do : but it is sublimity rather 
 in despite of the regular pulse of the rhythm, and the 
 chime at the ends of the lines, than by the assistance 
 of these adjuncts. 
 
 3. There is one quality in any piece of art necessary 
 to the production of the effect of either beauty or sub- 
 limity, and which, when attained, eminently tends to the 
 production of either effect, namely, truthfulness. By 
 truthfulness, we mean the execution of the work of art 
 being in conformity with the obvious design of it. Every 
 work of art aims at exciting some emotion. If no such 
 design can be discovered in it, then it is without 
 meaning, and can scarcely be regarded as a work of art. 
 Now the execution must be in conformity with the 
 obvious design of the artist, else it can neither be 
 sublime nor beautiful. 
 
 A musician intends to be elegant and gay, but he 
 produces a piece of mere common-place vulgarity ; his 
 piece is destitute of beauty. He wishes to be great and 
 sublime, but he produces mere noise, and rattle, and 
 bustle ; his work is instantly rejected. 
 
 A painter designs to excite the emotion that would 
 be excited by a noble range of buildings ; but his per- 
 spective is palpably inaccurate, and no other beauty can 
 compensate for deformity. He intends by the situation, 
 and attitude, and countenance, to convey the conception 
 of a man under the excitement of great terror ; but the 
 
188 ARTIFICIAL PRODUCTION OF THE SUBLIME. 
 
 drawing of the figure is inaccurate, and he has made 
 him only gape and stare ; his work is utterly destitute of 
 either beauty or sublimity. 
 
 The design of the architect is usually indicated by 
 the purpose for which the building is intended. And 
 then truthfulness consists not in its being fitted for its 
 intended use, but in its exciting emotions in accordance 
 with its intended use. A building may be admirably 
 adapted for the purpose for which it is intended, and 
 yet, in regard to taste, may be a mere mass of deformity. 
 But if the architect succeed in producing an emotion in 
 accordance with the intent of the building, he has so 
 far succeeded in rendering his work sublime or beautiful. 
 A prison, for example, should convey an impression of 
 strength and security. We remember a prison some- 
 where in Scotland, in the Corinthian order, with its 
 slender and ornamented columns — it was a piece of 
 deformity. A church should convey the feeling of 
 sobriety, solemnity, and sublimity. To give it the 
 appearance of the strength of a prison, or the lightness 
 of a ball-room, is an outrage on taste. A music-room, 
 or other place of amusement, should convey the impres- 
 sion of lightness and elegance. Such a building, with 
 the lancet windows, the massive columns, and vaulted 
 roof of a medieval church, would be a ludicrous object. 
 Scarcely less absurd is an hospital or infirmary with the 
 light and flaunting exterior of a ball-room or a theatre. 
 
 A poet, by writing in measured lines and stanzas, and 
 in poetical language, obviously intends to heighten the 
 pleasure which his matter expressed in prose would 
 yield by the tasteful choice and harmony of his lan- 
 guage; but if he makes slips in grammar, or in the 
 rules of composition, or if he introduce vulgar or pro- 
 vincial rhymes, or betray himself introducing senti- 
 ments for the sake of rhyme, he belies and frustrates 
 his obvious intention, and his poem is instantly rejected ; 
 whereas if he succeed in conveying his sentiments in 
 
' ARTIFICIAL PRODUCTION OF THE SUBLIME. 189 
 
 chaste, elegant, and harmonious language, his poem 
 possesses one beauty, which, with many, will compensate 
 for the want of beauties of a higher order. A poet, it 
 may he, is obviously aiming at the delineation of a 
 certain description of character. This intention he gives 
 you to know by the circumstances in which he places 
 him, and by what he says of him, or represents others 
 as saying of him. If he succeed in making him speak 
 and act in accordance with his character, as indicated or 
 described, he has graced his work with one of the most 
 admired beauties of poetical composition. But if the 
 drawing of his character be unnatural, or inconsistent 
 with itself, or if he make him speak and act incon- 
 sistently with his delineation, then his whole aim is 
 converted into a blemish, and brings upon him con- 
 tempt, the invariable punishment of a detected want 
 of power to effect an obvious intention. 
 
 While the want of truthfulness is fatal to the attain- 
 ment of beauty or sublimity, the possession of it often 
 gives beauty to objects in themselves the most homely 
 and destitute of beauty. A farm-yard, with poultry, 
 pigs, horses, cattle, farm-servants ; a school of disorderly 
 children ; peasants in their most homely dresses and 
 employments, become beautiful when they are repre- 
 sented or described naturally; that is, truthfully. It 
 is this quality that forms one of the chief beauties of 
 Dutch paintings. The celebrated painting of a young 
 bull at the Hague, which is known all over Europe, has 
 little else to commend it but its truthfulness. Cow^per’s 
 exquisite little vignette of the sparrows peeping from 
 the eaves of the cottage, thievishly resolved, — his picture 
 of a domestic party at tea, with the reading of the news- 
 papers, are beautiful, chiefly from the same quality. 
 
 We conclude, therefore, that there are qualities in 
 external objects which are the original sources of our 
 appreciations of beauty or sublimity ; that there are 
 mental qualities which are felt to be beautiful or sublime 
 
190 OPERATIONS IN THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 
 
 from their producing effects, on the contemplation of 
 them, analogous to those which are produced by beautiful 
 and sublime objects in external nature ; and that in 
 artificially exciting the feelings of sublimity, artists of 
 every kind must attend to these natural sources of the 
 sublime and beautiful ; but that they have a range much 
 beyond the use of natural beauties, material or mental, 
 by the recalling of whatever is fitted to give pleasure, 
 or to fill the mind with conceptions of vastness or of 
 great energy, or to inspire it with awe. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE RECOGNITION OF MENTAL STATES AND OPERATIONS IN 
 THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 
 
 We recognise mental states and operations in the 
 inferior animals on the same principles on which we 
 recognise mental states and operations in our fellow men, 
 but somewhat modified. We see power exercised by 
 them over the members of their bodies, and exerted with 
 design. We see them move their limbs or other mem- 
 bers of their bodies, for the purpose, it may be, of 
 removing their whole body from one place to another, of 
 walking, running, flying, swimming ; and we can often 
 detect their purpose in these movements, it may be, to 
 seize and eat their food, or to collect materials for their 
 dwelling-places, or it may be to lay up a store of food for 
 the future, or it may be in compliance with our invitation, 
 or obedience to our commands. We, therefore, infer 
 from these indications of design in their movements, that 
 their movements are not mechanical, like motions of 
 the air or of water, or of trees when shaken with the 
 wind ; but that they are the effects of a mind possessing 
 power over the body, and will to exercise it, or to abstain 
 from exercising it, similar to our own power and will. 
 
EMOTIONS OF THE INFERIOE ANIMALS. 
 
 191 
 
 The emotions of the inferior animals. 
 
 We see that they eat and drink as we do ; that, if they 
 be deprived of food or drink, they languish and die as 
 men do. We see them rush towards their food, and 
 seize and devour it ; and we ascribe to them hunger and 
 thirst and desire of aliment. 
 
 We see that many tribes of them, when injured, utter 
 loud cries, and run away from that which injures them ; 
 and we infer that such animals feel pain when their 
 bodies are injured, and are afraid of what injures them. 
 
 We see that some, when they are injured, fly upon 
 and attempt to injure those who have injured them ; and 
 we ascribe to such animals anger and revenge, because 
 anger and revenge elicit similar movements in us. 
 
 Sometimes very complicated emotions may be observed 
 in some of the inferior tribes. Of this we have a pretty 
 example in the story told by Cowper of his little dog. 
 When walking by the side of the river Ouse, he had 
 attempted to reach a water-lily with his cane, but 
 failing in his attempts, he pursued his walk, the dog 
 gambolling before him. It appeared, however, that the 
 considerate animal had — 
 
 ‘‘ Puzzling set his puppy brains 
 To comprehend the case.’^ 
 
 For when on his return he came near the water-lily, 
 the dog of his own accord sprang into the river, cropped 
 the water-lily, and brought it and laid it at his feet. 
 Besides the sagacity exhibited in this act, there was the 
 indication of much delicate and amiable feeling. 
 
 We remember observing a dog following his master to 
 the foot of a ladder, set up against a high house, and 
 reaching to the parapet. The master began to ascend, 
 and the dog began to bark and to exhibit uneasiness. 
 As the master got higher he began to whine and to 
 howl ; when the master was near the top he ran away, 
 
192 
 
 EMOTIONS OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 
 
 but occasionally stopping and looking up ; but when bis 
 master had got over the parapet, and was looking down 
 from what seemed a place of safety, he came and sat 
 quietly at the foot of the ladder. 
 
 We observed another little dog run out furiously to 
 bark at a horse that was trotting along the street with a 
 coal porter on his back. The man had a long whip, 
 with which he made a cut at the dog, which took effect 
 very decisively on his nose. The dog emitted a very 
 suppressed yelp, and stood in the middle of the street, 
 looking after the man and horse till they were out of 
 sight, when he turned to the side of the street, sat down, 
 and rubbed his nose, whining and yelling most piteously. 
 It is scarcely possible to deny to this dog very high 
 sentiments of pride, and a mind that could ill brook 
 disgrace. 
 
 One of the most eloquent appeals we have ever known 
 was made by a cat. On the eve of her confinement she had 
 selected a press in which clothes were kept, as a suitable 
 place in which to meet so interesting a crisis. But the mis- 
 tress of the house happening to have occasion to go to the 
 press, found it open, and Mrs. Puss with one kitten snugly 
 bedded in it. She turned them both out, locked the 
 door of the press, leaving the poor mamma to find other 
 accommodation where she might, and being busy with 
 other matters, forgot the whole transaction. In the 
 course of the day, however, Mrs. Puss appeared in the 
 parlour with her kitten in her mouth, and went directly 
 up to the lady who had so unceremoniously ejected her 
 from her comfortable bed-room, laid down her kitten at 
 her foot, and then looked up in her face and mewed. 
 The appeal was irresistible, and suitable accommodation 
 was provided for her and her little nursling. 
 
 Besides such acts as these, evidently the result of 
 feelings which we can appreciate, many of the inferior 
 animals have means of expressing their emotions by the 
 sounds that they emit, or by their gestures, or by a 
 
INTELLECTUAL OPEEATIONS OF INFERTOK ANIMALS. 193 
 
 certain power over the muscles of their faces. They 
 have their audible notes of pain, of fear, of anger, and of 
 pleasure, their gestures indicating the same emotions ; 
 and some of them in their anger draw up their lips, so 
 as to expose their teeth, as significant of their inclination 
 to bite. The different species of animals seem dis- 
 tinctly to understand these indications of emotions in 
 their congeners, and even in the animals of other species 
 and genera ; and, to some extent, these signs are like a 
 natural language, intelligible to mankind, or very soon 
 become so by experience. 
 
 The intellectual operations of inferior animals. 
 
 Many of the laws of suggestion of which we are con- 
 scious we can detect in them. Many animals may be 
 put in mind of pleasant or unpleasant sensations by 
 being brought to the places where such sensations were 
 experienced, or by the exhibition of an implement with 
 which pain was inflicted, or by the presence of the person 
 who inflicted it, or by the exhibition of the vessel in 
 which they were accustomed to receive their food, or of 
 one similar to it. 
 
 We can observe in them very exact discrimination of 
 qualities in external objects, particularly in distinguish- 
 ing such as are proper for food from others that may 
 very closely resemble them. They are not infallible 
 in their discriminations ; but, when they make any 
 mistake in that respect, it is usually under the influence 
 or by the artifices of men. 
 
 Their intellectual faculties are employed chiefly in 
 obtaining their food, constructing their habitations, and 
 otherwise providing for the preservation of their species. 
 In these particulars many of them, as the beaver, the 
 ant, the bee, many species of birds, manifest surprising 
 skill and foresight. 
 
 But there are decisive evidences that that skill and 
 
194 INTELLECTUAL OPERATIONS OF INFERIOR ANIMALS. 
 
 foresight have a different origin from skill and foresight 
 in man. In the first place, their skill and foresight are 
 exercised within a limited range, heyond which they 
 are absolutely destitute of these qualities. Again, the 
 apparent foresight of some in providing for their future 
 progeny is so far heyond their experience and means of 
 knowledge as to indicate that it is not their own. An 
 insect laying her eggs on that precise species of plant 
 which is fitted for the food of the grub that is after a 
 long period to issue from her egg, and a plant of which 
 she herself cannot eat, indicates a source of foresight 
 very different from human intellect. Again, the skill 
 and foresight of inferior animals are obtained without 
 teaching or experience. Birds hatched by those of a 
 dijfferent species adhere to the practice of their own 
 species, of which they may never have seen a single 
 example, without being in the slightest degree modified 
 by the practice of the foster parent. Still further, no 
 amount of teaching, or training, or example, can enable 
 an individual of one species to imitate the habits of 
 another. A sparrow can never be made to build a nest 
 like a swallow, or a swallow a nest like a sparrow. 
 Ducklings may be hatched and cared for by hens, or 
 chickens by ducks, yet the young adhere in all respects 
 to the practices of their own real parents. And, lastly, 
 the practice of each species continues perfectly uniform 
 in all ages and in all parts of the world. The sparrows 
 among the Himalayan mountains are precisely the same 
 in their habits with the sparrows in Britain, and the 
 habits of sparrows from the earliest notice of them were 
 the same as they are now. 
 
 From these and similar phenomena we infer, that the 
 skill and foresight exhibited by many tribes of inferior 
 animals flow from a different power of mind from that 
 which gives rise to skill and foresight among men ; and 
 that different source we call instinct : but what instinct 
 is, and how it operates, is a profound mystery. We 
 
INTELLECTUAL OPEEATIONS OF INFEKIOR ANIMALS. 195 
 
 are shut up to the conclusion that their skill and foresight 
 originate in the wisdom of the great universal spirit who 
 constructed them ; hut how communicated by Him to 
 them is a question above the range of our faculties. 
 
 The mental states and operations excited in us by the 
 presence and acts of inferior animals are similar to those 
 which are excited by the presence and acts of our fellow 
 men. Our discriminating power is employed chiefly in 
 discerning their character, — that is, their power of doing 
 us good or evil, and, in regard to the higher classes, their 
 disposition to do good or evil. Our emotions excited by 
 them are such as fear, anger, revenge, hatred, on the 
 one hand ; or admiration, affection, gratitude, on the 
 other. We do not mean to say that these emotions are 
 always rationally or justly excited towards them, but 
 merely state the fact that they are excited. Cowper 
 expresses much gratitude and affection for his little dog 
 in consequence of his exploit about the water-lily. On 
 the other hand, we may be very angry with a cat for 
 killing a favourite bird, while yet we bestow on her all 
 manner of commendations for killing a mouse. Yet it is 
 scarcely to be expected that puss should be able to com- 
 prehend why she should be pursued and beaten for the 
 one act, and commended for the other. 
 
 Our inferences and reasonings about the inferior 
 animals are akin to our moral inferences and reasonings 
 respecting our own species, but partaking more of the 
 precision and certainty of our inferences and reasonings 
 about inanimate objects, in consequence of the more 
 exact and constant uniformity of the instincts of each 
 species, so that when the species is clearly ascertained 
 we can reckon with more certainty on their acts, or 
 our power of acting upon them. 
 
196 
 
 KECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON THE RECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 From the platform to which we have brought up the 
 soul, by means of its combined sensations, perceptions, 
 and recognitions, and its intercourse with other minds, it 
 reaches the highest attainment of which the mind is 
 capable, and which, more than any other, distinguishes 
 it from its fellow inhabitants of this planet, namely, its 
 recognition of the being and attributes of the Deity. 
 
 The mind has not indeed precisely the same means of 
 recognising the presence and mental movements of the 
 Deity which it has of recognising the presence and 
 mental movements of its fellow men. He does not 
 inhabit a body like their own, and manifest his mental 
 movements by motions of such a body, similar to those 
 movements of its subject body, and by which it manifests 
 its movements ; but it possesses that kind of evidence of 
 the being, the power and will of a mind, or spirit per- 
 vading all nature, which it possesses of the existence 
 and power and will of a fellow man, when it examines 
 any of his works in his absence ; and it possesses that 
 kind of evidence to an infinitely greater extent, and in 
 infinitely greater perfection. 
 
 We have already had occasion to remark that, when 
 we examine a collection of machines or of paintings, we 
 instantly infer that they were formed by human skill and 
 power, and that we examine them as if we were 
 examining the design and skill and power of the former 
 of them. Fenelon’s reference to the marks of design and 
 power in a watch, of which Paley has made so good use 
 in his “ Natural Theology,” furnishes incontestable 
 proof that no sane mind could see and examine such a 
 work of art, and discover the use of it, without inferring 
 
RECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 197 
 
 that it was the work of a human mind contriving it, and 
 acting on the members of a human body to execute 
 the contrivance. 
 
 Now, we have evidences of the same kind everywhere 
 around us of the existence, intentions, power, and will 
 of an all-pervading, though invisible mind. Every 
 organised body, every plant, every animal, furnishes 
 stronger proofs of design and power and will than a 
 watch does ; and when we become acquainted with the 
 composition of unorganised substances, as air, water, 
 earth, stones, we learn that there are in them evidences 
 of intention as clear, with evidences of wisdom and 
 power more wonderful, more surpassing our comprehen- 
 sion, than even in the structure of plants and animals. 
 We are in the midst of a vast workshop of machines, 
 exhibiting every conceivable description of mechanical 
 contrivance — a vast cabinet of the most glorious pictures, 
 the source from which all pictures derive their beauty, 
 and copies of pictures repeated ten thousand times over 
 with the most perfect exactness ; so that it seems to be 
 scarcely possible that any rational creature, looking on 
 these objects, should not see and feel that he is looking 
 on the productions of an all-powerful, and all-skilful 
 mind, who has contrived all these wonderful things, and 
 produced them in such amazing perfection. 
 
 We are conscious of forming designs for converting 
 material substances to our own use in various ways." We 
 are conscious that, by the power of our will over our 
 bodily frame, we can, by digging, cutting, hewing, 
 rubbing, and other operations, convert various kinds of 
 material substances to various implements for our con- 
 veniency. We have sometimes to avail ourselves of the 
 general laws of matter, and sometimes our employment 
 is to counteract some law by artificial contrivances. 
 Now we see machines everywhere around us, formed for 
 particular purposes, the maker of which has availed him- 
 self of the same laws of matter which we have to work 
 
198 
 
 EECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 with, and has often employed one law to counteract 
 another, so as to produce an obviously intended result. 
 The bodily frame of animals is formed on the same 
 mechanical principles, of which we must avail ourselves 
 if we would imitate them. Use, in some instances, is made 
 of the weight of the body to enable the animal to pro- 
 cure its food, while, in other instances, there are con- 
 trivances for counteracting the weight of the body, and 
 enabling it to float high in the air. We see contrivances 
 for combining lightness with the requisite strength. All 
 the mechanical powers are brought into requisition. 
 We see levers of various kinds in operation, joints and 
 hinges of various kinds, the tightening and slackening 
 of cords, contrivances for impelling heavy bodies through 
 the air, or through water, or over the surface of the 
 ground ; contrivances for enabling animals of various 
 kinds to procure their necessary food. We see, there- 
 fore, everywhere around us as palpable evidences of 
 design, and of power to execute design in the material 
 world which we inhabit, as we see in visiting a museum 
 of the works of art. We are conscious that our own 
 designs proceed from the mind, and are executed by its 
 direct power over the members of the body, and its 
 indirect, or mediate powers, by means of the body over 
 external substances ; and we therefore infer that the 
 designs which we see on every side are formed by an all- 
 pervading mind, and are carried into effect by a power 
 over all matter, similar to that which we exert over the 
 muscles of our body, but infinitely more perfect. No- 
 thing short of the most absolute power over every 
 separate atom of matter, to arrange all of them in any 
 order, so as to give its peculiar form and use to every 
 object in the universe of matter, would produce the 
 results that we everywhere witness. 
 
 We have stated that we have not precisely the same 
 evidence of the presence of the Deity that we have of 
 the presence of the mind of a fellow man, because he 
 
KECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 199 
 
 does not connect himself with a body like our own, and 
 express the movements of his mind, by movements of 
 that body, similar to the movements by which we make 
 manifest the movements of our minds ; but that we have 
 that kind of evidence of the existence of the Divine mind 
 that we have of the existence of a human mind, when 
 we inspect any of the works of men in their absence. 
 But we now further observe that we have that kind of 
 evidence in a much more perfect form, and with infinitely 
 greater power and variety than we have for the existence 
 of other minds than our own. For, 
 
 1. We see many of the designs of the Deity actually 
 being executed and completed before us. We see 
 herbage of vast variety and beauty produced under our 
 eye, and covering whole tracts of ground previously bare 
 of covering, and innumerable living creatures formed 
 to people places previously tenantless. Suppose, for 
 example, a piece of plain bare cloth were spread out 
 before us, and that while we were looking at it, curiously 
 formed, and beautifully coloured pictures of flowers, 
 trees, fruit, insects, birds, quadrupeds, men and women, 
 began to cover it, all perfect in their forms and colouring, 
 the same forms repeated with the most minute exactness 
 in various parts of it ; and the whole, when completed, 
 exhibiting the aspect of an exquisitely- wrought carpet, 
 while yet no artist appeared ; we should infer that 
 some human hands, or some machinery was at work 
 below the cloth which was throwing up these regular 
 and beautiful pictures, that the work could not be acci- 
 dental, but must be the effect of design and power in 
 actual operation. Now does not every meadow, every 
 copse, every morass, exhibit precisely this indication of 
 a designing powerful mind at work, although we cannot 
 discover it, nor discern any bodily frame that it inhabits ? 
 Does not every season of the year present to us 
 myriads of plants and animals, springing up into being, 
 formed with perfect regularity, and forms precisely 
 
200 
 
 EECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 similar repeated a thousand and a thousand times ? 
 And how can any man be so blind as not to see the 
 energy of a planning and executing mind actually at 
 work ? It does not make the wonderful exhibition less, 
 but more wonderful, that these forms are produced in a 
 certain regular order. It w^ould not make the filling of 
 the carpet, which we have supposed to be figured under 
 our eye, less, but more an evidence of design and power, 
 that we were permitted to see the wheels and levers, the 
 various coloured threads, and the needles inserting them 
 in the underground machinery, by means of which the 
 effects were produced. So neither does it render the 
 clothing of any portion of the earth with vegetation at 
 stated times, and peopling it with animals, less but more 
 wonderful, that we are permitted to see a little of the 
 machinery that is at work ; — plants shedding their seeds, 
 animals depositing their eggs, the sun rising upon it 
 and warming it, the rain watering it, the air sweeping 
 over it. All these, and many other steps in the progress 
 towards the result, only render stronger and more im- 
 pressive the evidence of a mind at work, possessing 
 intellect of the highest conceivable order, with will and 
 power to execute its purposes. 
 
 2. This kind of evidence of a mind possessing intel- 
 lect to design, and power and will to execute, at work in 
 external nature, is infinitely stronger than any evidence 
 that we possess of the existence of other human minds 
 in any of the works of men ; because the evidences of 
 design and power in external nature are infinitely more 
 distinct, and more varied, than in any or all the works 
 of man. The evidences of design, accompanied with 
 power in external nature, are, in regard to our powers 
 of estimating them, infinite. Not a root, nor a stem, 
 nor a leaf, nor a flower, nor a seed of any vegetable, but 
 possesses innumerable evidences of design. Not a limb 
 nor an organ of sense, not a feather, nor a hair, nor a 
 scale, not a l^eart, nor an artery, nor a nerve, nor an in- 
 
KECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 201 
 
 testine of any animal, but possesses still more wonderful 
 indications of mental power. The more deeply we 
 search, the more do the wonders of the planning and 
 executing mind of the Deity crowd upon us. Taking 
 the most superficial view of the structure of animal 
 bodies, we see common mechanical principles employed 
 in giving them the power of locomotion, and of finding 
 and masticating their food. The eyes, ears, legs, wings, 
 fins, claws, teeth, of various tribes of animals, are 
 wonderful specimens of mechanical skill. When we 
 look deeper, and consider how the food is assimilated, 
 so as to form and sustain the various parts of the body, 
 — the bones, muscles, skin, hair, feathers, scales, and, 
 for that purpose, examine the stomach, bowels, heart, 
 lungs, veins, arteries, nerves, of the animal, w^e find 
 ourselves in the midst of a system of mechanics that 
 perfectly fulfil their purposes, but which pass beyond 
 our powers of investigation. When we look to the food 
 itself of animals, — namely, the vegetable kingdom, on 
 which the animal kingdom depends (for, although many 
 animals feed on other animals, yet, the animals on 
 which they feed are sustained by plants), we find a new 
 and beautiful system of assimilation, by which inorganic 
 substances are converted into the infinite variety of 
 vegetable substances. When, for example, we learn 
 that much, if not all, of the most solid parts of vege- 
 tables is derived from the light invisible air, we find 
 ourselves standing amidst new scenes of wonder. When 
 we proceed further, and examine the inorganic substances 
 which form the food of vegetables, new wonders of de- 
 sign and power await us in molecular forms and motions, 
 contributing, by various combinations, to produce the 
 various qualities of unorganised substances, — their spe- 
 cific gravity, their crystalline forms, their consistency, 
 solidity, fluidity, elasticity, hardness softness, toughness 
 brittleness, their smell, colour, taste, and innumerable 
 others. When the mysterious agencies of imponderable 
 
202 
 
 EECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 bodies rise before us, — light, heat, electricity, magnetism, 
 the subtility of their nature, the almost infinite velocity 
 of their motions, combined with the important parts 
 which they perform among all — even the most massive 
 of material things — we are still more bewildered amidst 
 the wonders of that intellect and power which bends 
 their agencies to its purposes. When we pass from 
 material agencies, and glance at the instincts of animals, 
 and observe how perfectly fitted these instincts are to 
 the forms and powers of their bodies, for sustaining 
 their lives, and prolonging the existence of their species, 
 yet the measure of discretionary power which they enjoy, 
 to accommodate themselves to their circumstances, we 
 see design, indeed, in the creation of these instincts as 
 distinct as in mere matter ; but the mode of the exe- 
 cution of the design altogether beyond our compre- 
 hension. There is a wisdom and power here not only 
 which we cannot fathom, but of which we can form no 
 better conception than that it exists and is everywhere 
 manifest. When we lift our eyes frorn this earth to the 
 universe of matter around us, we see the same evidences 
 of design and power, but on a scale of magnificence 
 incomprehensible. We see the same principles of order 
 there as on the surface of the earth, — motion and attrac- 
 tion balancing one another : motions of prodigious power 
 bridled, controlled, and regulated by another power, that 
 we call attraction. But whence these stupendous 
 motions ? Who launched forth these huge and massive 
 bodies with such amazing velocity ; and what is that 
 attraction which controls them, and binds their head- 
 long velocities to regular orbits; — are questions that 
 would strike us dumb if we did not discern in them a 
 designing mind that urges them on their flight, while 
 he holds the reins which command and direct them. 
 
 But may not these evidences of design and power and 
 will employed in the structure and government of the 
 universe, indicate the design and will and power, not of 
 
KECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 S03 
 
 one intelligent being only, but of many ? Certainly not ; 
 and for tv/o reasons. 
 
 1. That gradation of being which has been noticed 
 by all who have thought or written on the subject, by 
 which the various departments of nature gradually merge 
 into one another, leaving no gap between them, renders 
 it impossible to ascribe one department to one creator 
 and governor, and another department to another creator. 
 Solids, fluids, and gases, are so connected together, the 
 same substance being sometimes in one state and some- 
 times in another ; fossils and organised substances, 
 plants and animals, the various tribes of plants and of 
 animals, trees, shrubs, herbs, fowls, fishes, insects, 
 reptiles, quadrupeds, so gradually melt into one another, 
 as to render it scarcely possible to determine where the 
 one class ends and the other commences. The moon, with 
 its mountains and valleys and plains, and its extinct 
 volcanos, is obviously of the same structure with the earth. 
 It bears a relation to the earth so similar to that of 
 the satellites of Jupiter or Saturn, to their primaries, 
 that both primaries and satellites must have had the 
 same Creator. The sun is a star, only much nearer us 
 than the other stars ; the smaller stars are manifestly 
 so identical in kind with the stars discovered in nebulae, 
 and the nebulae which have been resolved by telescopes, 
 and found to consist of stars, are so manifestly of the 
 same kind with those nebulae which no telescope has yet 
 resolved, that one mind and will must be the creator 
 and governor of all. It is thus one of the beautiful 
 marks of design in the universe, that the Creator of it 
 has so made the various departments of nature from the 
 sand under our feet to the most distant nebulae melt so 
 into one another, as to leave no opening even for the sur- 
 mise that there might be more creators and governors 
 than one. 
 
 2. But the great irrefragable proof that the whole 
 material universe, so far as we have the means of 
 
204 
 
 RECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 knowing it, is the product of one designing intellect, 
 directing one all-powerful will, is, that all the parts 
 of it are mutually dependent on one another. The 
 sea, the dry land, the air, the vegetation that clothes 
 the land, the animals that people both sea and land, 
 could not exist in their present state independently 
 of one another. The sea is kept full by the rivers 
 that run into it from the dry land. The rivers 
 are supplied from the sea. The atmosphere is the 
 medium of communication by means of which the 
 vapour from the ocean is carried to the land and con- 
 densed there into the water that forms the rivers, that 
 water the earth, and replace the waters abstracted from 
 the ocean. The whole of these processes depend on 
 the influence of the sun. The attraction of the sun 
 keeps the earth in its regular revolution ; the heat of 
 the sun keeps the air, the sea, and the dry land in 
 their relative positions. The light of the sun is neces- 
 sary to vegetation, and without heat, light, and plants, 
 there could be no animals. The portion of light which 
 the sun sends to the earth is exactly accommodated to 
 the myriads of living creatures in various habitats, so 
 as to afford to all light enough, and not too much. 
 Some sentimentalists, looking on the glory of the 
 sun, and the beautiful tints with which it colours an 
 eastern or western sky, have spoken as if that glory 
 were in the sun itself, and have all but paid adoration to 
 it, as the first idolaters really did. A little reflection 
 would have taught them that all that glorious appear- 
 ance depends as much on the nature of the atmosphere, 
 nay, on the structure of their own eyes, as on the 
 emanation of light from the sun. Were there no 
 atmosphere, there could be no glorious sunrise or sun- 
 set. Were their eyes a little less sensitive, it would not 
 appear more glorious than a glimmering taper; or if 
 they were a little more sensitive, it would be a cause 
 of agony and an object of horror, from the torment of 
 
KECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 205 
 
 which they would be fain to hide themselves. The 
 glory is not in the sun, but in the exact adaptation of 
 the light of the sun passing through the medium of the 
 atmosphere to their eyes, and their eyes to it. And 
 what is that adaptation but another name for the wisdom 
 and power of the Deity? Inhabitants in Mercury 
 might, in consequence of the structure of their eyes, not 
 be more dazzled by the sun’s brightness than we, nor 
 more oppressed with its heat ; while inhabitants in Saturn 
 or Uranus might see as clearly by it, and feel its heat 
 as oppressively as the inhabitants of our torrid zone. 
 The whole planetary system depends for its order, its 
 very existence, on the sun ; and it is probable that the 
 sun itself, with its planetary attendants, depends on 
 some other body still more remote from us. Thus 
 again we see that He who constructed the universe has 
 so designed and executed his design, as not to leave 
 room for even the surmise that there could be more 
 creators or governors. 
 
 It is this clear indication of the design and power 
 of one pervading mind presented by the whole universe, 
 and by every separate part of it, even the most minute, 
 that binds it together as one magnificent temple, or 
 rather, one magnificent and stupendous piece of 
 machinery ; and will not permit us to regard it as a 
 mere aggregation of antecedents and consequents. Now 
 our conception of the universe as the product of design 
 and power is formed upon precisely the same kind of 
 evidence, but infinitely more satisfactory, and more 
 extensive, than our conception of a watch or a steam- 
 engine as the product of the skill and power of another 
 human mind than our own And both of these con- 
 ceptions are founded on our consciousness of design 
 in ourselves to arrange and modify material substances, 
 so as to render them subservient to our purposes. 
 
 But, further, we have in the material world around 
 
206 
 
 RECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 US, not only evidences of design and power, but indi- 
 cations of many other mental attributes of the great 
 Designer of the glorious work. 
 
 If, for example, we should visit the repository of a 
 mechanician, and see that his machines were not only 
 perfectly adapted for their different purposes, but that 
 their forms were the most compact, the most simple and 
 elegant, of which the nature of each machine would admit, 
 all arranged in perfect order, the nicest contrivances for 
 keeping them exactly clean, as well as in perfect working 
 condition, and that those of them that were capable of 
 embellishment were ornamented with the most chaste 
 and delicate taste ; by the symmetry of their forms, 
 their colours, nay, their fragrant smells, the sweet 
 sounds emitted by them, wherever these could be intro- 
 duced with propriety ; we should say, this mechanician 
 must have great delight in what is orderly and beautiful, 
 for he is not satisfied with accomplishing his object, but 
 he must in the execution of it awaken in the soul 
 feelings of exquisite beauty and refinement. Need we 
 add that these are the characteristics of that mind which 
 pervades the universe — infinite wisdom in adapting 
 means to ends, forming high and glorious purposes, 
 infinite and most exact power to effect his purposes, 
 power that can launch a world on its course, or polish 
 the eye of the minutest insect ; and this infinite power 
 and wisdom accompanied with the love of order and 
 beauty, and with perfect knowledge of the means of 
 communicating the pleasure arising from the appre- 
 ciation of order and beauty to other minds that may 
 contemplate his works. 
 
 Nor are we left without clear indication of what in 
 men we would call their character or disposition, but 
 what in the Great Creator we call moral attributes. If, on 
 visiting the repository of a mechanist of high reputation, 
 we should see that all his machines were contrivances 
 for promoting human comfort, we should infer that he 
 
EECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 207 
 
 must be a benevolent man, not to deem it beneath the 
 dignity of his great talents and experience to be employed 
 exclusively about contrivances to assuage pain, to remove 
 nuisances, to promote comfort, to prolong life ; and that 
 nothing was overlooked by him, not the safe exercise 
 and amusement of the little child, nor even the comfort 
 of the little bird that sings in our parlour, or the bee 
 that stores up its honey in our garden. Now, such indi- 
 cations of beneficent care for the happiness of his 
 creatures we discover in all the works of the Great 
 Creator. We see the wants of all provided for, — 
 suitable food placed within the reach of all, suitable 
 clothing provided for them with wonderful skill, the 
 heat and cold attempered to the structure of their bodies, 
 and to their habitat and mode of life, their inclinations 
 and enjoyments, so that every class of animals is fully 
 satisfied with its own condition and means of enjoyment, 
 and exults in the exuberance of life and vigour. 
 
 If, on the other hand, on visiting the repository of a 
 mechanician, we should see that all his machines were 
 contrived for mischief, — for the destruction of life and 
 property, for occasioning annoyance and discomfort, — we 
 might fairly draw the conclusion that he was a man of a 
 cruel, morose, and malignant spirit. 
 
 We visit an armory, and enter into conversation with 
 the keeper of it. We ask, “ What is the use of that 
 sharp-pointed piece of polished steel at the end of a 
 pole?” ‘‘That,” he tells us, “is used in stabbing 
 men at some distance from us.” — “But here are some 
 similar sharp-pointed instruments without the pole, — 
 what are these ? ” “ These, you observe, have a short 
 
 handle, and they are made for the purpose of stabbing 
 men when they are close upon you.” — “ Here, again, 
 are some pretty long steel intruments, like large carving 
 knives, with a sharp edge, and some of them very 
 beautifully ornamented, — what is the use of these ? ” 
 “ These are made to cut and hew down men, especially 
 
RECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 if the person who uses them be on horseback, and the 
 men to be cut down on foot. You may observe that some 
 of them have sharp points as well as sharp edges, so that 
 they may be used either for cutting or stabbing, as may 
 be found most convenient. And nothing can be more 
 glorious than to see a long range of men on horseback, 
 in scarlet dresses, trimmed with gold, and feathers 
 waving in their caps, cutting, stabbing, and trampling 
 under their horses’ feet a multitude of men, and the 
 rapidity with which the work is done. At the battle of 
 Salamanca, about 1500 men were cut down, and their 
 blood and bones trodden into the earth, in about fifteen 
 minutes.” — “ We shall say nothing of the glory of such 
 a scene at present ; but what are these smaller, lighter 
 strips of wood, with a sharp point at one end and a 
 feather at the other? ” “ These are called arrows ; they 
 
 were shot from bows, and men could be killed by them 
 at the distance perhaps of fifty yards. Some of them, 
 you may see, have barbs, or a sort of sharp hooks, 
 behind the sharp points ; the use of that contrivance was 
 to prevent an arrow, that had penetrated the body of a 
 man beyond the barbs, from being drawn out without 
 cutting the flesh round about the wound to a consider- 
 able extent; thus adding greatly to his torture, and 
 danger of death. A further improvement on this con- 
 trivance was, that the points of the arrows were some- 
 times poisoned ; so that nothing could save the life of 
 the person who w^as wounded with them, however 
 slightly. But these implements of glorious warfare 
 have long been superseded, among all well-educated, 
 scientific and polished nations, by machines of much 
 greater power. You observe this iron tube fixed in a 
 wooden stock. By putting a little of a substance called 
 gunpowder into the tube, a bullet may be darted from 
 it with such velocity that a man may easily be killed by 
 it at the distance of two hundred yards, or by a random 
 shot at a much greater distance.” — “ But we observe 
 
EECOGNITION OF THE DEITY 
 
 S09 
 
 that some of these tubes have a sharp pointed instru- 
 ment fastened to the end of the tube, — is that also 
 darted to a distance by the gunpowder?” “0, not at 
 all ! That is a very ingenious and admirable invention. 
 You may observe that it is fastened to the tube in such 
 a manner that the bullet passes through the handle of 
 it ; so that if the person who uses it has attempted to 
 shoot a man at a distance, and has missed his aim, he 
 can then run at him, and stab him with the sharp- 
 pointed instrument, which we call a bayonet, at the end 
 of his iron tube, which we call a musket or carbine. 
 But here is a machine of the same nature, but of much 
 greater power. You observe the tube is much wider, 
 and capable of receiving a much larger q;uantity of gun- 
 powder. It is called a cannon, and will dart out a ball of 
 six, ten, twenty, forty, or as high as sixty pounds weight, 
 so as to kill men at a vast distance, break in the sides 
 of ships, sink them, and drown all the people on board 
 of them, break down the ramparts of fortified places, 
 and admit soldiers to massacre their garrisons.” — “ Very 
 wonderful ! But pray what is that large globe of iron, 
 with a little hole in it?” — ‘‘That is a very ingenious 
 machine. It is, as you may see, hollow, and when it is 
 to be used, it is filled with gunpowder, and fired off 
 from a short wide-mouthed cannon, called a mortar, and 
 if it light upon a house, it is so heavy that it will break 
 down through the roof, and through the different floors 
 to the very ground, and then it will explode and blow 
 the house, and every person in it, to atoms.” — “ But, 
 then, might there not be women and children in the 
 house, and might they , not be destroyed at the same 
 time?” — “Doubtless a besieging army cannot tell in 
 what houses there may be women and children, and 
 these must only take their chance in such cases. But 
 the most recent and most scientific invention is this 
 large, long, pointed thing, which we call a rocket. If 
 these be pointed towards a city, and fire applied to 
 
210 
 
 EECOaNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 them, they will fly off with great velocity, with a long 
 train of fire blazing from them ; they will stick to the 
 roofs of houses, enter at windows and doors, and, as 
 they cannot be extinguished, they will set a whole town 
 on fire in an incredibly short space of time.” — “ These 
 are all very ingenious and very wonderful machines ; 
 but who invented them?” — “Various distinguished 
 individuals ; some philosophers, some officers in the 
 army and navy. A monk, for example, is said to have 
 discovered the power of gunpowder ; but I assure you 
 it was not in a day that they reached their present per- 
 fection. These machines are the result of the accumu- 
 lated study and skill of many centuries, especially 
 among scientific polished Christian nations.” — “ We 
 have observed machines similar to some of these de- 
 scribed by Milton ; but he ascribes the invention of 
 them to the devil. He must, however, we suppose, be 
 in error.” 
 
 Now, when we look abroad over the face of nature, 
 we everywhere see the most consummate skill at work 
 in providing for the enjoyment of all sensitive creatures, 
 from the largest to the most minute. It is true, there 
 are creatures furnished with formidable implements for 
 preying upon other creatures. But, in the first place, 
 these powers of destruction are not employed in per- 
 petrating acts of wanton cruelty. They are given to 
 the creatures that possess them for enabling them to 
 procure their food. In the next place, to the creatures 
 on which they prey, death is not the same formidable 
 event that it is to men. None of them live under the 
 apprehension of it before it comes. When it does come, 
 it appears to be accompanied, in a vast majority of 
 cases, with very little pain. Facts have been observed, 
 indicating that, in the tribes of fishes, reptiles, insects, 
 and molluscs, sensitiveness to pain is very small ; the 
 loss of a limb, or even some more essential part of 
 their body, scarcely interrupting them in eating their 
 
EECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 211 
 
 food, or in the ease and freedom of their movements. 
 But it must he admitted that there are scenes of re- 
 volting cunning and ferocity among the inferior animals, 
 from which it is impossible for a sensitive mind not to 
 recoil. To account for these perpetual exhibitions of 
 cunning and ferocity, of stronger animals preying on 
 the weaker, seizing upon them, tearing them to pieces, 
 devouring them, or sucking their blood, we must re- 
 member that, among the highest order of creatures on 
 the earth — the only creatures capable of moral good and 
 evil, there is a fearful amount of moral turpitude, and 
 violent propensity in the strong to oppress the weak — an 
 appalling selfishness, and rapacity, and cruelty ; which 
 malignant dispositions, in rational and moral creatures, 
 created capable of being governed by the laws of justice 
 and humanity, must be held in deep abhorrence by that 
 Being whose operations are manifest everywhere, and 
 whose goodness and beneficence are so unequivocally 
 exhibited. Now these exhibitions of apparent selfish- 
 ness, and rapacity, and cunning, and cruelty, in the 
 inferior animals, are not moral evil ; for the animals in 
 which they appear are not moral agents ; they are only 
 obeying the instincts which have been given to them. 
 But these instincts, although not moral evil, are yet 
 images of moral evil. We cannot observe the stealthy, 
 soft, silent creeping of the lion or cat tribe towards their 
 prey, their furious spring, and the avidity with which 
 they tear and devour their harmless and helpless victims ; 
 nor the similar cunning and artifices of the spider, its 
 rush on its helpless prey, its venomous bite, the sucking 
 of its blood, and the hanging up of its dead body near 
 the mouth of its den ; nor the sly, smooth gliding of the 
 serpent tribe, and its sudden and deadly bite, — without 
 having presented to our minds most striking images of 
 the hatefulness of selfish rapacity, or wrong and violence 
 and unfeeling cruelty, and without being moved with com- 
 passion for the helpless sufferers. In these movements 
 
212 
 
 RECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 of the inferior animals, there is, as we have said, no 
 moral depravity ; yet they are images of the hateful- 
 ness of moral depravity, kept continually before our 
 eyes. And these lessons are not altogether lost upon 
 us : for, on the one hand, there is a universal practice 
 of comparing cunning, selfish, violent, cruel men, to 
 such animals as the lion, the tiger, the fox, the wolf, 
 the serpent, the shark — even the spider and the wasp. 
 Nor, on the other hand, are those images of such virtues 
 as gentleness, faithfulness to trust, obedience to masters, 
 gratitude to benefactors, care of offspring, bravery in 
 their defence, unwearied labour for their sustenance, all- 
 sacrificing devotedness to the public weal, which are set 
 before us in the instincts of such animals as the dove 
 and many other birds, the lamb, the dog, the beaver, 
 the ant, the bee, lost upon us, as is manifest from the 
 admiration which these beautiful instincts excite, and 
 from the readiness with which we contrast them with 
 the opposite vices, which are prevalent among our own 
 species. 
 
 It has been a favourite notion with some, that the 
 Deity having imprinted certain powers or qualities, or, 
 as they are semetimes called, laws, on matter, and 
 having arranged masses of it in a certain order, leaves 
 to these laws, or qualities, or principles, to maintain 
 and develope the order of the universe. It would be 
 laborious and irksome for us to be under the necessity 
 of keeping any machine in order and in motion, by a 
 constant muscular effort ; and that notion of labour and 
 irksomeness we are prone to ascribe to the Deity him- 
 self ; and therefore for the purpose of relieving him, as 
 they imagine, from such monotony and labour, they con- 
 ceive of him as doing what we attempt to do, when we 
 contrive machines that will perform their evolutions, 
 and do their work, with as little attention and inter- 
 ference on our part as possible. 
 
RECOaNITlON OF THE HETTY. 
 
 213 
 
 But, according to the views of these very philosophers, 
 as they love to be called, we know of no such powers, or 
 qualities, or laws in matter. We know of nothing but 
 mere antecedents and consequents. We speak, for 
 example, of the quality or law of the attraction of 
 gravitation ; by which we mean, that when two masses 
 of matter are placed at a certain distance from one 
 another, and left free, they approach one another with a 
 force bearing a certain ratio to the quantity of matter in 
 both of the masses, and to their distance from one another. 
 But we know of no power in the masses of matter, or in 
 the intervening space, to cause them to approach. We 
 may as well ascribe the phenomenon to will and choice 
 as to anything else. We call the phenomenon, attrac- 
 tion ; but that is a mere word, which signifies nothing 
 more than the fact of the approach of the masses to one 
 another. We infer that there must be a cause, because 
 we cannot conceive of any change, at least, in matter, 
 without a cause ; but that the cause is in the matter, or 
 where, or what it is, we are absolutely ignorant. We talk 
 of the laws of motion, but what it is that keeps a body in 
 motion in a straight course, unless it be deflected from 
 it by an external force, or what keeps a body at rest, 
 when it is at rest, we know not : so also the laws of 
 light, electricity, magnetism, crystallisation, and others ; 
 they are, even in the estimate of these philosophers, 
 mere names of phenomena ; that is, of antecedents and 
 consequents. We are, therefore, ignorant, not merely 
 of the laws of nature, but we know not that there are 
 such laws. All that we know is, that certain antecedents 
 are always, so far as we have observed, followed by 
 certain consequents ; or, rather, that similar antecedents 
 are followed by similar consequents. 
 
 But we do know, by recognition, one efficient cause 
 of the phenomena of the universe, and but one. We 
 see in these phenomema similar evidences of design, and 
 will, and power, that we see in the construction of a 
 
214 
 
 RECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 watch or a steam-engine. The design, and will, and 
 power indicated in the structure of the watch or the 
 steam-engine, we recognise as the same as that of which 
 we are conscious when we arrange any portion of matter 
 so as to produce an intended effect. We are, therefore, 
 driven to the conclusion, that the power indicated by 
 the evidences of design in the material universe, is the 
 power of mind over matter ; the power of that one 
 designing, executing mind, which we have recognised as 
 pervading the whole universe, so far as we have had 
 opportunity of observing it. 
 
 Nor is there any conceivable cause that could account 
 for the phenomena of creatfion, but the unceasing opera- 
 tion of an all-pervading, all-powerful will, conforming 
 itself to certain laws, — a spirit or mind having perfect 
 power over every molecule of matter in the universe, 
 similar to that which we possess over those members of 
 the body which are most under our control, but infinitely 
 more perfect, — a power to move each molecule wherever 
 it chooses, and to arrange them all as it sees fit ; and 
 that power regulated by the most perfect knowledge of 
 all things that are, or have been, or that are possible. 
 To borrow an illustration from Scripture : Moses was 
 commanded by God to cast down a rod which he held 
 in his hand, and it instantly became a serpent ; he was 
 then commanded to take it by the tail, and it instantly 
 became a rod in his hand. A rod is somewhat similar 
 in form to a serpent, and therefore we are very ready to 
 imagine that it would be more easy to convert a rod than 
 any irregular lump of matter into a serpent. But let it 
 be considered what was to be done, in forming the 
 serpent. The materials for the skeleton had to be 
 drawn together and instantly arranged into the beauti- 
 fully constructed vertebrae and ribs of the serpent tribe. 
 The viscera, the whole alimentary system, — stomach, 
 liver, bowels, had to be modelled^ and introduced in an 
 instant ; the respiratory and circulating systems — the 
 
EECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 215 
 
 heart, the arteries, the veins, the lungs, had to be 
 formed ; and simultaneously with all these, the nervous 
 system — the head, the brain, with all the external organs 
 of sense, the muscles, the skin, and the scales, must all 
 be produced on the instant. Now, what power could 
 effect all this but a mind having perfect power over 
 every molecule of matter, to bring instantly every one to 
 its proper place for producing the result ? But we know, 
 independently of Scripture, that animals have been '7. 
 created, at no very remote period; nor is there the 
 slightest indication that any species of them has gradu- 
 ally advanced from a less perfect to a more perfect 
 organisation. Whole tribes have, again and again, been 
 annihilated, and others, of different genera and species, 
 made to occupy their room. Acts of creation like that 
 of the serpent of Moses must have taken place in innu- 
 merable instances. Now, what power is there in the 
 universe to account for this fact, but the perfect power of 
 that mind which we recognise by the evidences of design 
 and of other mental attributes, in the universe of matter, 
 over every particle of matter, to arrange all or any por- 
 tion of them with infinitely more ease and rapidity than 
 we possess to turn the pupil of our eye from one side of 
 its socket to the other ? 
 
 Even if the universe were a system of mere inorganic 
 matter, moving with perfect uniformity, according to a 
 certain order, or certain laws, as that order is sometimes 
 called, we have no knowledge of any power that could 
 frame and sustain these laws, but the power of an all- 
 pervading mind. But that part of the universe which 
 falls under our most exact observation, is not a mere 
 system of inorganic matter, regulated by mechanical 
 laws. It is full of life, full of disturbing causes to any 
 mere material or mechanical system fulfilling its evolu- 
 tions. Not only the will of man, but the instincts of 
 innumerable animals implying will and intention, regu- 
 lated, not by mere material impulse, but by thought and 
 
216 
 
 EECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 choice, would necessarily disturb the progress of any 
 mere material or mechanical system. And that fact 
 renders it infinitely more difiicult to conceive how such 
 a system could be kept in order, except by the constant 
 presence of an all-pervading mind, carrying into effect 
 its designs in every place and at every moment. 
 
 Some philosophers, as they would be deemed, have 
 thrown out the supposition that the different grades of 
 organic nature may have been occasioned by the efforts 
 of the animals and the plants themselves. They fancy 
 that only organic forms of the lowest order may have 
 been created, — nay, that even these may, by some for- 
 tuitous process, have arisen out of inorganic matter ; 
 that the organism being once formed, it might aim at 
 some attainment, which, in the course of generations, its 
 progeny might at length reach ; that a plant attempting 
 to move might at length be furnished with fins or feet, 
 — that an animal aspiring to fly might at length wish 
 and strive itself into the possession of a pair of wings,— 
 that frogs attempting to climb trees, as some of them 
 actually do, might, in course of time, become monkeys ; 
 and thus — the transition seems not to be very great — 
 from monkeys to become men. 
 
 But, in the first place, is there any evidence of plants 
 or animals seeking to change their habits ? Do snails 
 ever indicate any desire to leap like frogs, or frogs to 
 fly like birds ? On the contrary, does not every species 
 of animal seem to delight most in its own mode of life ? — - 
 and does not every one manifest unequivocal indications 
 of reluctance to vary its habits in the slightest degree ? 
 Many succeeding generations of cats have, under human 
 control, been made to change their habits to a consider- 
 able extent. But no wild cat ever indicated a wish to 
 become domesticated, or to adopt the more polished 
 manners of the domestic cat : on the contrary, when the 
 domestic cat is left to itself, its progeny indicate a disposi- 
 tion instantly to return to the natural habits of its kind. 
 
RECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 217 
 
 But let it be supposed that there ever exists in any 
 animal a wish or aim to change its mode of life, is there 
 any evidence that such a wish or aim would have any 
 effect in changing the organisation of the animal ? Men 
 have, ever since their introduction upon the earth, been 
 turning the opening of their ears in the direction of 
 sounds, that they may hear them more distinctly. Here 
 is a wish, and an effort, that has been made by genera- 
 tion after generation from the remotest antiquity. Has 
 this wish and effort added anything to the length of our 
 ears, or imparted to us any power to move them in the 
 direction of sound, as the horse, the ass, the dog, and 
 many other animals do ? This question can be answered 
 for at least some three or four thousand years. Statues 
 and pictures, nay, mummies, yet remain from those 
 remote ages, which indicate that the ears of men then 
 were precisely what they are now. It may be said, that 
 four thousand years is a very short period in which to 
 expect any perceptible change. But if we go a little 
 further back, we find ourselves at one of those great 
 geological revolutions, before which no trace of the 
 existence of the human species is to be found. 
 
 These attempts to get rid of the real effective presence 
 of God in his works, are more like the drivellings of 
 insanity than the thinking and reasoning of rational 
 men ; and would be utterly unworthy of notice, but for 
 the eager attention with which they are sometimes 
 listened to. But God has not left his universe in cir- 
 cumstances which warrant us to entertain, even for a 
 moment, the notion of its having been brought into its 
 present state by the regular operation of any laws, or 
 principles, or qualities impressed on matter or mind, — of 
 his having once formed and arranged it in an imperfect 
 state, and left it to develope the principles on which he 
 constructed it. But he has constructed his universe, 
 not only so as to evince his power and skill exerted in 
 its first formation, and his special interposition from 
 
218 
 
 KECOGNITION OF THE DEITY. 
 
 time to time, removing whole races of organised beings, 
 and replacing them by others, but also so as to render 
 it impossible for us to advance a single step towards 
 understanding the nature and causes of the phenomena 
 placed before us, hut by the recognition of his constant, 
 pervading presence and power and will, working in and 
 through all. 
 
 The recognition of the Deity in his works does not 
 create any new emotions, hut it excites, in a modified 
 form, some of the emotions which are excited by the 
 recognition of the minds, the characters, and acts of 
 our fellow-men. His universal presence and infinite 
 power and wisdom, are fitted to excite awe and venera- 
 tion. His perfect power over us, and constant presence 
 to us, are fitted to excite submission to his will, and 
 obedience to his known commands. The tender concern 
 manifested by Him for the well-being and happiness of 
 his creatures, and the benefits which we daily receive 
 from Him, and sources of delight which are daily opened 
 to us, are fitted to inspire us with gratitude and love. 
 
 The intellectual operations dependent on the recog- 
 nition of the Deity, consist chiefly of those operations 
 by which that recognition is efiected, and which have 
 already been considered. 
 
 Other emotions and intellectual operations are ex- 
 cited by the special revelation which God has made 
 of himself, of the relation in which we stand to him, 
 and of his manner of dealing with us, and his ultimate 
 purposes respecting us ; but the consideration of these 
 does not fall within the province of the present in- 
 vestigation. 
 
 END OF BOOK III. 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 ON THE MEANS WHICH THE MIND POSSESSES OF 
 AFFECTING OTHER MINDS. 
 
 Having contemplated the mind in its capabilities of 
 receiving influences from without by its sensations, by 
 its perceptions of external material objects, and by its 
 recognitions of the existence, and presence, and states of 
 other minds, we have yet to consider what active power 
 it possesses of affecting other minds. This opens a very 
 wide field, in which we might expatiate to an almost 
 unlimited extent. But we must restrain ourselves, and 
 do little more than indicate the nature and vastness 
 
 of it. . 1 • j 
 
 All the means that we possess of affecting the minds 
 
 of others, may be resolved into two elements, namely, 
 the first causing pleasant or painful sensations in them ; 
 the second, communicating our own thoughts and feelings 
 to them. 
 
 The first of these elementary means of affecting other 
 minds is seldom used alone. We seldom intentionally 
 excite pleasant or painful sensations in others merely 
 for the purpose of giving them pleasure or pain, at 
 least, we seldom give pain merely for the sake of giving 
 pain. The use of these means of affecting others is 
 almost always connected with the expression of the 
 state of our minds — our approbation, or love, or grati- 
 tude ; or our disapprobation, our anger, our revenge, our 
 contempt, our desires, our purposes ; and is intended to 
 strengthen the influence which we wish to exert on 
 
220 
 
 MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 others by the expression of these various states of mind. 
 A parent chastises his child ; that is, he inflicts pain 
 upon him, not for the mere sake of giving him pain, but 
 for the purpose of strengthening the expression of his 
 displeasure and his desires. One man inflicts a blow 
 on another not because he wishes merely to give him 
 pain, hut to strengthen the expression of his anger or 
 his hatred. This circumstance requires us, in arranging 
 the means which we possess of affecting other minds, 
 to depart a little from the more obvious method of con- 
 sidering these elementary means separately, and to 
 divide the cases in which we seek to influence the minds 
 of others into — I. Those cases in which the infliction 
 of pain, or the communication of pleasure (especially the 
 former), is used as an auxiliary to add power to the 
 expression of the state of our minds : and, II. Those 
 cases in which no attempt to excite pain or pleasure is 
 used for that purpose. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF THOSE ATTEMPTS TO INFLUENCE THE MINDS OF OTHEES 
 IN WHICH WE INTENTIONALLY GIVE THEM PAIN OB 
 PLEASUEE, FOE THE PUEPOSE OF STEENGTHENING 
 THE EXPEESSION OF OUE OWN STATES OF MIND. 
 
 I. In regard to the means of causing pleasure or pain, 
 the first and most natural of these is the infliction of 
 blows. A parent is able, by his greater strength of body, 
 to chastise his child by striking him. By the exercise 
 of the same muscular power, one man inflicts blows on 
 another. This power may be increased by employing 
 mechanical aids, as rods, staves, whips, sharp instru- 
 ments ; or by chemical aids, as fire applied to the person 
 or property. This end may he effected also by inducing 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHERS. 
 
 221 
 
 others to inflict the pain ; as when a ruler employs officers 
 of justice for that purpose. Or pain may, in effect, be 
 inflicted, by depriving of the means of enjoyment; as 
 by the destruction or seizure of property, robbery of 
 wives and children or of other near and dear friends 
 or relatives, or by the confinement of the person. 
 Pleasant sensations are communicated chiefly by be- 
 stowing the means of procuring them, or by relieving 
 from pain. 
 
 2. In regard to the purposes for which pain is 
 inflicted, or pleasure communicated, these are very 
 various. Pain, as we have said, is inflicted to strengthen 
 the expression of hatred, anger, envy, or revenge ; and 
 pleasure communicated to strengthen the expression of 
 approbation, or of love, or of gratitude for benefits 
 received. 
 
 Pains are inflicted by parents, and by rulers, on 
 children for disobeying commands, or adult persons for 
 transgressing the laws, for the purpose of deterring these 
 children or adult persons from the repetition of their 
 disobedience or transgression ; and also of deterring 
 others from similar disobedience and transgression. 
 Rewards are seldom given for observance of the law; 
 although sometimes they are given as bribes for 
 violating it. 
 
 Sometimes pains are inflicted for the purpose of 
 upholding or diffusing opinions or principles. This, it 
 is obvious, they never can truly effect. They can only 
 restrain the outward expression of opinions or principles, 
 and thus indirectly hinder the diffusion of them. But 
 that effect is usually counteracted by the curiosity that 
 is excited to become acquainted with prohibited opinions 
 and principles, and the pleasure which men feel in 
 resisting any attempt to control them. Forbidden 
 opinions or principles become much more attractive by 
 being forbidden. All persecutions for the sake of reli- 
 gion, belong to this absurd use of the infliction of pains, 
 
222 
 
 MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 for the purpose of strengthening the expression of the 
 disapprobation of the rulers ; and they have always 
 undermined those religious tenets on behalf of which 
 they have been resorted to. Opinions or principles can 
 really be changed or maintained only by operating, not 
 on the flesh and bones of people, but directly on their 
 understanding. 
 
 The most monstrous and horrible use of pains inflicted 
 for the purpose of influencing other minds, is warfare. 
 The rulers of two nations quarrel, and forthwith they 
 send armies and assault each other’s subjects, burning, 
 murdering, and devastating with the fury of demoniacs. 
 This, doubtless, is for the purpose of ultimately reaching 
 the rulers themselves, annoying them, impoverishing 
 them, weakening their power, perhaps expelling them, 
 or seizing them, or accomplishing their destruction. 
 But what a fearful amount of human suffering is occa- 
 sioned for the purpose of ultimately causing one or two 
 individuals to suffer ? And these individuals usually take 
 care to preserve themselves from personal injury, often 
 putting a stop to the carnage and devastation before it 
 reach themselves, though not sooner, by procuring peace. 
 Or where the quarrel is that not merely of the rulers of 
 the nation, but of the nations themselves, the chief 
 amount of suffering falls on the peaceful inhabitants, 
 together with the women and children, who know 
 nothing of the quarrel, and who care nothing about it. 
 
 3. The communication of pleasure, or the bestowing 
 of the means of obtaining pleasant sensations, is effective 
 in influencing the minds of others, chiefly when such 
 measures are adopted for the purpose of manifesting 
 good will to them and interest in their welfare. Any- 
 thing given as a bribe, suggests the suspicion that it is 
 given from interested motives, — not for the benefit of 
 the receiver, but of the giver ; and therefore, although 
 it may purchase the outward acts of men, even contrary 
 to their convictions of what is right, it can have no 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHERS. 
 
 223 
 
 permanent effect upon their minds such as the giver 
 intended. But when pleasure is communicated, or the 
 means of obtaining pleasure are bestowed, or pain is 
 alleviated, as an expression of kindly feelings, it may 
 remove prejudices, predispose the objects of such con- 
 ciliatory measures to listen to those who use them, and 
 thus open a way for information into minds that would 
 otherwise have rejected it. Missionaries endeavouring 
 to gain an entrance for Christianity among savage 
 nations, always endeavour to introduce among them the 
 comforts of civilised life. To this measure is frequently 
 added with the happiest effects, medical advice and the 
 administration of medicine. The relief of pain and 
 deliverance from danger, has been often found effectual 
 in arresting attention to the instructions and exhorta- 
 tions of the missionary, and in opening a way for the 
 truth to the inner man. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OF THOSE CASES IN WHICH WE SEEK TO INFLUENCE 
 OTHERS, WITHOUT EMPLOYING THE AGENCY OF 
 PAINFUL OR PLEASANT SENSATIONS. 
 
 The means employed in these cases are the commu- 
 nicating of our thoughts to others. 
 
 We have two modes of effecting this purpose, — namely, 
 1st, natural, — and, 2nd, artificial language. 
 
 1. In regard to natural language, certain effects are 
 produced on our own bodies by certain mental emotions, 
 or rather. He who formed our bodies, and who breathed 
 into them the breath of life, who made body and soul, 
 and instituted their connection with one another, has 
 appointed certain movements of the muscles of the body, 
 particularly of the face, to be the signs of various 
 
324 
 
 MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 mental emotions ; so that when the mind is thus per- 
 mitted to express itself, we can read the emotions of 
 others in their countenances and their gestures, and 
 others can of course read ours. We can thus express 
 before others approbation, disapprobation, satisfaction, 
 anger, joy, grief, fear, hope, love, hatred ; and we can 
 thus excite sympathy with our emotions in other minds, 
 or awaken in them those emotions which our emotions 
 towards them are fitted to awaken. Thus the expression 
 of anger may excite anger in ^others by sympathy ; or it 
 may excite anger in them from resentment ; or it may 
 excite fear or grief in them, because they have displeased 
 us, and exposed themselves to injury from us ; or it may 
 excite satisfaction in them to see us angry with others. 
 And so with regard to other emotions. 
 
 3. But the chief and most varied means which w^e 
 possess of influencing others by simply communicating 
 our thoughts to them, are the various uses of artificial 
 language. Certain sounds are, as we have seen, asso- 
 ciated in our minds, and in the minds of others who 
 speak the same language, with certain sensations, per- 
 ceptions, recognitions, reasonings, emotions, and, in 
 short, with all mental states and operations, so that in 
 proportion to the compass and expressiveness of the 
 language that we use, we can convey conceptions more 
 or less vivid, of the various states and operations of our 
 own mind; as the information that we possess, the 
 inferences that we draw from it, our reasonings, our 
 emotions, and the causes of them ; and thus we possess 
 a most powerful implement for acting on the minds of 
 others. 
 
 The use of this implement is greatly extended by the 
 invention of written language and of printing. By 
 associating with the sounds used in our language certain 
 visible or tangible forms, we obtain the power of convey- 
 ing our thoughts to distant places, or of placing them 
 on record for the producing of effects on minds that are 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHEES. 
 
 SS5 
 
 not to appear on the world’s stage till we shall have 
 been removed from it for ever. The thoughts of men 
 who lived several thousands of years ago are thus yet 
 living, and active in producing important effects on 
 individuals and on society. 
 
 When natural and artificial language are used in 
 conjunction, that is, when the communication of the 
 thoughts by speech is accompanied with those tones of 
 voice, those modifications of the countenance, and those 
 gestures, which are the natural expressions of the 
 emotions conveyed by the sounds of the artificial 
 language, or when the words are so selected in written 
 language as to convey the emotions of the mind, then 
 the influence on other minds is at its maximum. 
 
 The chief, the most important, and the most perma- 
 nent effect of one mind on another, is produced by the 
 communication of facts. Facts always interest, when 
 they are first communicated and understood, by their 
 novelty. Many facts are fitted to suggest new views of 
 familiar objects, and lead to new trains of thought; 
 many to excite emotions of various kinds; many to 
 stimulate to action and to regulate the conduct. 
 
 False statements, communicated as facts, produce the 
 same effects as if they were facts, so long as they are 
 believed. Whep they are discovered to be false, they 
 instantly lose their power over the mind, and the decep- 
 tion that has been practised upon it, renders it more 
 cautious in believing statements, so as often to lead to 
 the rejection of those that are true and important. 
 
 Next to statements of fact, inferences from facts and 
 reasonings upon them are most influential. But infer- 
 ences and reasonings, unless strictly demonstrative, 
 being more liable to fallacy and less easily understood 
 than statements of fact, proportionally less confidence 
 is placed upon them. 
 
 When the statements of fact, or quasi fact, or the 
 
226 
 
 THE MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 inferences from them, are accompanied with the expres- 
 sion of such emotions as the statements, if believed, 
 would naturally excite, the influence of them is greatly 
 augmented, because the reality of them is more vividly 
 presented to the mind. It is thus that the fictitious 
 statements of the theatre produce their effect. The 
 statements are made, accompanied with the expression 
 of those emotions which, if they were true and were 
 believed, they would naturally excite. The audience is 
 thus, for a moment, made to believe them, and to sympa- 
 thise strongly with the persons who are affected by them. 
 
 The principles on which facts, or quasi facts, may be 
 stated, inferences drawn from them, reasonings built 
 upon them, so as to produce the most powerful effects 
 on the hearers or readers of the statements, are treated 
 of in the arts of grammar, logic, rhetoric, poetry, and 
 elocution ; and to treatises on these arts we must refer 
 the reader. 
 
 The construction of the Holy Scriptures furnishes a 
 marvellous and beautiful example of the most effective 
 use of the power of influencing the minds of men 
 simply by the communication of thought. The Scriptures 
 were written by men, not, as in Mahomet’s Koran, per- 
 sonating the Deity in what they wrote, but by men — 
 under the guidance of God, indeed, but stating truths 
 which they believed, and expressing emotions which 
 they felt. 
 
 These writings consist mainly of two distinct series 
 of facts ; — the first consisting of a narrative of historical 
 facts, capable of being proved or disproved by the ordi- 
 nary means by which historical statements are ascer- 
 tained to be true or false ; the second consisting of facts 
 of a spiritual nature, referring to the existence, attri- 
 butes, and works of God, the spiritual part of our nature, 
 the relation in which we stand to God, the mission of 
 the Son of God to save us from sin and its consequences, 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHEKS. 
 
 227 
 
 and of the destiny of the soul and body after death. 
 These two series of facts are so connected, that, if the 
 historical statements be true, the spiritual statements 
 must be true also ; whereas, if the historical statements 
 could be proved to be false, the spiritual statements are 
 abandoned by the writers themselves of Scripture. See 
 especially the unequivocal admission of the Apostle 
 Paul, that if Christ did not rise from the dead, faith is 
 vain, preaching is vain, and Christianity itself is un- 
 tenable. (1 Cor. XV.) For a fuller elucidation of this 
 construction of the Bible, the author must refer his 
 readers to his “ Betters on the Divine Origin and 
 Authority of the Holy Scriptures.” 
 
 This method of influencing the minds of men by 
 statements of fact is in perfect accordance with the 
 nature of the mind, which is universally affected and 
 moved by what it believes to be true. The occupying 
 of the intellect by facts necessarily influences the emo- 
 tions and the will in accordance with the nature of the 
 facts believed. 
 
 The spiritual facts, the communication and confirma- 
 tion of which is the great end of the whole compilation, 
 are of a nature deeply to affect all men ; and cannot 
 but arouse, and interest, and beneficially affect all 
 who are made acquainted with them, and who really 
 understand and believe them. Their object is to 
 bring men to the acknowledgment and worship of the 
 one living and true God, Creator of heaven and earth, 
 to the obedience of his law, and consequently to a just 
 and kind and charitable deportment towards one another. 
 
 The historical facts are fitted to arrest the attention, 
 to fill the soul with wonder, sometimes with perplexity, 
 more frequently with admiration, and to be a vehicle for 
 conveying the spiritual facts which it is the end of 
 Scripture to inculcate. The various characters delineated 
 
 and delineated with great truth and power — and the 
 circumstances in which they are placed, are full of 
 
 Q 2 
 
S28 
 
 THE MEANS OF INFLUENCINO 
 
 interest, and are fitted to call forth every emotion of 
 which the soul is capable, and to awaken all its sym- 
 pathies. Especially the character of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, so fully and vividly presented to us in the four 
 narratives of his acts, which form the principal part of 
 the history of the New Testament, is the noblest and 
 most effective object for strongly and beneficially influ- 
 encing the whole man, enlightening his understanding, 
 directing aright his affections and his conduct, that has 
 ever been offered to the contemplation of our race. 
 
 The spiritual facts, to which the historical facts stand 
 related merely as evidence, and as the medium of con- 
 veyance, are of infinitely higher, even overwhelming 
 interest. The being, the attributes, the constant pre- 
 sence of the Deity, his law, his hatred of sin, his love of 
 holiness, the rewards and penalties by which his law is 
 sustained, our own spiritual nature, our immortality, our 
 violation of the law and exposure to its denunciations, 
 the cause and the certainty of death, the glory and 
 honour and immortality, or the indescribable ruin and 
 horror, into which we enter at death, the mission of 
 the Son of God to save us, the mode and terms of 
 salvation, and the critical and urgent importance of our 
 present state, as the portal to eternity — these, and 
 similar facts, are manifestly calculated to arrest the 
 attention and to awaken every faculty of the souls of 
 those who believe them into most vigorous exercise. 
 
 Then, these statements of fact are communicated in 
 forms the best fitted for drawing attention to them, and 
 persuading men to receive them. They are not conveyed 
 in the form of logical systems of doctrine, like our 
 common systems of theology; but they are presented, 
 sometimes in the form of most affecting narratives, 
 related with the most charming simplicity, sometimes 
 in impassioned addresses, in warnings of danger, remon- 
 strances, denunciations, encouragements in depression, 
 consolations under affliction ; sometimes in the con- 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHERS. 
 
 229 
 
 fidential communications of private friendship, — letters, 
 conversations, in which the words breathe tenderness 
 and affection ; sometimes they are set forth, arrayed in 
 the charms of fervid, most ornate, and yet most un- 
 affected poetry ; and sometimes they occur in earnest 
 and fervent prayer, in which the whole soul of the 
 writer is manifestly poured forth into the bosom of his 
 Father and his God. 
 
 Finally, the Scripture directs that these facts be com- 
 municated to others by those who believe them, as they 
 may have opportunity, that the wFole code of religion 
 embodied in them may have the advantage of the living 
 voice of men who are under its influence, who have 
 experienced its solemnising, elevating, purifying, com- 
 forting effects, with all the natural expressions of awe 
 and reverence, of alarm for those who are in danger, 
 sorrow for those who are ruining themselves, and joy 
 over those who are walking in safety, which the various 
 parts of it are fitted to awaken. 
 
 It is impossible to conceive of any means more per- 
 fectly adapted to operate powerfully and beneficially 
 on the human mind than those which are provided in 
 the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 Of those two implements which we possess of 
 influencing the minds of others, the most powerful 
 beyond comparison is the communication of thought, — 
 using our bodily organs simply as means of conveying 
 our thoughts. Yet that implement, which consists of 
 inflicting pain, or communicating pleasure for the pur- 
 pose of constraining or bribing the will, independently 
 of the convincing of the understanding, being the most 
 rapid in its effects, and appearing to superficial 
 observers to be the most decisive, is almost universally 
 resorted to by those who have power to wield it. It is 
 necessary that children, before their minds are open to 
 receive information, or to understand reasoning, should 
 
S30 THE MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 be coerced by direct appeals to their susceptibility of 
 painful or pleasant sensations ; and a rod for compulsion, 
 or sweetmeats for a bribe, may, with very little children, 
 be perhaps beneficially employed. Yet even in the 
 management of children, such appeals to force or to 
 bribery may be, and ought to be, superseded, at a very 
 early age, by judicious treatment in cultivating the 
 understanding, and gently but firmly checking any 
 waywardness of disposition. But the recklessness with 
 which appeals to force or to bribery, especially to the 
 former, have been made in all ages down to the present 
 moment, and in all countries, even those most advanced 
 in civilisation, indicates how slow is the progress of our 
 race in the knowledge of our own nature; or rather 
 how pertinaciously we adhere to the most absurd and 
 barbarous practices which gratify our passions. 
 
 Two men quarrel. They are at variance in their 
 statements. The one says that the other lies. The 
 other, instead of taking measures to disprove the allega- 
 tion, and so correct the mistake of his opponent, strikes 
 him. Then the passion of revenge is roused, and the 
 blow is returned. Perhaps recourse is had to deadly 
 weapons, and grievous injury, even death itself, is 
 inflicted on one, or it may be both of the parties ; while 
 the question of the truth or falsehood of the accusation, 
 or of the original statement, remains untouched. 
 
 The two men who quarrel perhaps have friends and 
 dependents, whom they engage in the quarrel. A feud 
 commences ; men assail each other with murderous aim, 
 houses are burned, wives and children are slaughtered, 
 a whole territory is laid waste and filled with desolation, 
 amidst scenes of unspeakable horror and anguish. 
 
 The rulers of two nations disagree. The king of one 
 offers some slight or indignity to the emperor of another. 
 Each has money and soldiers at his disposal. Thousands 
 of men, provided with implements of destruction, are 
 sent into each other’s territory, and the unoffending 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHERS. 
 
 231 
 
 inhabitants, who knew nothing of the quarrel, are 
 assailed with fire and bloodshed, their villages plundered 
 and burned, their towns taken and sacked, and men, 
 women, and children involved in indiscriminate 
 slaughter. 
 
 One great nation, or rather the rulers of a great 
 nation, become jealous of the rulers of a neighbouring 
 nation, fearing that they may obtain so much power as 
 to render their neighbourhood dangerous. Instead of 
 seeking directly to influence the minds of the nation 
 that they dread, or its rulers, or to persuade the sur- 
 rounding nations to discountenance a spirit of aggran- 
 disement in it, or even bringing them to an agreement 
 to aid one another, should any attempt be made to 
 encroach upon them, or otherwise to injure them by 
 brute force, it engages in active warfare, and endeavours 
 to persuade others to take part with it in the warfare. 
 And merely in order to bring a few individuals, the 
 rulers of a neighbouring nation, to a better mind, armies 
 are levied, including in them the most debased and 
 unprincipled ruffians that the nation can produce, and 
 marched into peaceful districts to lay them waste with 
 fire and sword. These injuries arouse the spirit of a 
 people, who would else have been glad to continue in 
 the quiet prosecution of their ordinary avocations; 
 retaliations commence ; and, in the reckless, ferocious 
 conflict, thousands of peaceful people, aged men, help- 
 less children, timid and delicate females, are driven 
 from their homes, plundered, insulted, and ruthlessly 
 massacred. 
 
 Nay, a nation priding itself on having arrived at the 
 very acme of civilisation and humanity, finds its com- 
 merce with some foreign country impeded by the internal 
 regulations of that country. The regulations are, per- 
 haps, disliked by the people, who would gladly avail 
 themselves of the opportunity of making gain by the 
 commerce prohibited by their rulers. The humane and 
 
S33 
 
 THE MEAKS OP INFLUENCING 
 
 civilised nation, not being able, or perhaps never 
 attempting, to persuade the rulers of the foreign nation 
 to permit the people to trade with one another, sends 
 out armaments, avails itself of the improved machinery 
 for destruction which its advanced civilisation places at 
 its disposal, attacks the people who would willingly 
 trade with them, because it cannot get at their rulers, 
 burns their houses and ships, murders their wives and 
 children, and then glories in having thus forced the 
 rulers of a nation, at the other side of the globe, to 
 withdraw those commercial restrictions which they 
 deemed necessary, and perhaps truly deemed necessary, 
 for securing the well-being of their subjects. 
 
 The laws of war — for war has a sort of code of laws 
 of its own — strikingly expose the horrible nature of its 
 operations. In the first place, when an army is in the 
 field, that it may be absolutely under the control of its 
 head or general, the slightest disobedience of orders, 
 however unreasonable those orders may be, whatever 
 suffering or danger the execution of them may imply, 
 however revolting to humanity, however absurd, may 
 subject the person who commits it to instant death. 
 A general having thus at his absolute command a body 
 of men, it may be to the amount of hundreds of thou- 
 sands, furnished with every implement which the inge- 
 nuity of man has invented, during the world’s history, 
 for the destruction of life and property, (we say every 
 implement, for if some have fallen into disuse, it has 
 only been because others more potent for destruction 
 have been substituted for them,) is left by the laws of 
 war to his own uncontrolled discretion, in regard to the 
 use that he makes of that enormous power of destruction. 
 He may, for example, if the success of his enterprise 
 requires, lay whole districts of country waste. He may 
 send bands of the greatest ruffians in his army to burn 
 towns and villages, to destroy or carry off property, to 
 trample down, or burn, or carry off the standing corn, 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHEBS. 
 
 233 
 
 and to drive the people before them like sheep to the 
 slaughter. And these things not only may be done, 
 hut have been done in all ages of the world, down to 
 the present, by men whose names are recorded in 
 history, with the epithets great or illustrious attached 
 to them. It is considered not only within the power of 
 a general, hut is the usual procedure, if a town be taken 
 by storm, not only to massacre the garrison, but to 
 give up the town itself and all its inhabitants, young 
 and old, male and female, to the uncontrolled will of a 
 rabid, infuriated soldiery. It has recently been ruled 
 by that nation which values itself on conducting warfare 
 on the most honourable principles, that if a body of 
 people hide themselves with their wives and children 
 in caves, it is agreeable to the laws of war to fill up the 
 mouths of the caves with combustibles, set fire to them, 
 and suffocate or roast alive their wretched victims. It 
 is further considered perfectly legitimate in warfare to 
 lure men to their destruction by every species of deceit, 
 even to the extent of inventing and propagating the 
 grossest falsehoods. 
 
 We have thus exhibited this mode of influencing the 
 minds of men in its most vigorous exercise, and have 
 displayed the apparently irresistible energy that it pos- 
 sesses, that we may not be supposed to underrate it, 
 when we assert that it is powerless when compared with 
 the other implement, namely, the simple communication 
 of thought, without appeal to the infliction of pain or 
 the communication of pleasure. 
 
 The world, it has been said, is governed by opinion, 
 which amounts to this, that the conduct of men is regu- 
 lated by what they believe to be true. Were it regulated 
 by what is really true — by the knowledge of the whole of 
 the truth calculated to influence them in every case, 
 there were an end at once of all confusion, and crime, 
 and misery. Then the world would he under the 
 guidance of God, not merely de jure, but de facto, for 
 
234 
 
 THE MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 the light of truth is the sceptre of his kingdom. As it' I 
 is, the conduct of men is directed by what they believe 
 to he true, and the cause of all the disorder and crime 
 of the world is, that men are ignorant of the truth that 
 ought to influence them, and have been induced to 
 believe and act upon falsehood as if it were truth. 
 Hence it is obvious, that the only really effective and 
 permanent means of influencing others is occupying 
 their minds wdth truth, or quasi truth. So far as their 
 minds are occupied with truth, their conduct will be 
 beneficially influenced. The power of the most despotic 
 monarch on the earth rests on the opinion of his sub- 
 jects, that it is their duty or their interest to obey 
 him. Change that opinion, and his power crumbles to 
 nothing ; his people resist him, his armies forsake him ; 
 he is shorn of his locks, and has become weak as other 
 men. The ancient monarchies were reared up by the 
 power of arms ; but whence did that power proceed, but 
 from the opinion of their subjects, that they were bound 
 to obey their sovereigns in fighting under their com- 
 mand ; or, in the opinion of men, that it was honourable 
 to be soldiers ; that it was glorious and patriotic to 
 subdue other nations, and to bring them into subjection 
 to their own ; or that, by obeying their military chiefs, 
 they would most readily and certainly obtain the gratifi- 
 cation of their rapacity, their lust, and their pride. 
 
 It required some seven centuries of almost constant 
 warfare to build up the Eoman empire by the power of 
 the sword ; that is, by the infliction of pain, to compel 
 other people to submit to the citizens of Eome. Little 
 more than two centuries of the use of the other weapon, 
 
 — ^the communication of thought, were sufficient to 
 subdue it ; and that not merely as Alexander subdued 
 the Persian empire, leaving the people just as he found 
 them, with only a change of rulers, the mind of Alex- 
 ander himself being more subdued to the Persians than 
 they were to him ; but to subdue it effectually, not 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHEES. 
 
 235 
 
 only obtaining possession of its throne, and its seats of 
 authority, but of its people, changing their religion, 
 their laws, their habits, their institutions, their whole 
 social condition. This great and effective revolution 
 commenced in the preaching of an obscure individual, 
 in an obscure province of the empire, — an individual 
 who was scouted and persecuted by the rulers and the 
 learned men of his own nation, and crucified under an 
 order of the Koman governor. Yet that individual, by 
 means of officers appointed by himself, and acting 
 strictly according to his directions, solely by the com- 
 munication of thought, was, in little more than two 
 centuries, acknowledged as the Lord and Master of 
 the empire ; his laws received and obeyed, and institu- 
 tions established, and almost universally observed, in 
 commemoration and honour of him. 
 
 After this, the bishop of Rome raised an empire, as 
 despotic as the pagan Roman Empire was, solely upon 
 the power of opinion. The only soldiers employed were 
 clergymen, secular and regular, and they did the work 
 of soldiers, even in the exacting of money, dictating 
 laws, bringing emperors and kings to the most abject 
 submission to their leader, more effectively than these 
 purposes had ever been accomplished by the old Roman 
 legions. 
 
 The opinions, or quasi truths, on which the clergy of 
 Rome founded the despotism of their chief, were, to a 
 great extent, false. When assaults were made upon 
 them, and attempts made to change the opinions of the 
 people, they were conscious that their dogmas could not 
 bear examination ; and being resolved to maintain them, 
 abandoned the implement by which they had been 
 established in the belief of the people, and betook them- 
 selves to the weaker implement of fire and sword to 
 maintain them. They prohibited all free inquiry, de- 
 nounced all books containing statements which they 
 regarded as dangerous to their power, visited with the 
 
236 
 
 THE MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 heaviest penalties, not only all who wrote such books, 
 but all who read or possessed them. The Holy Scrip- 
 tures were especially proscribed, and most jealously 
 withheld from the people. Crusades were proclaimed 
 by the bishop of Eome against obscure tribes, who, in 
 their seclusions among the valleys of the Alps, denied 
 his authority. An institution of terrible power, and 
 most unscrupulous practice — seizing, imprisoning in 
 dungeons, torturing, and subjecting to the most horrible 
 deaths, all who exposed themselves to its fell and 
 jealous suspicion — was erected. But all in vain. These 
 severities, as those which were inflicted by the pagan 
 rulers of the same city, only excited the more the 
 curiosity of the people to listen to the proscribed state- 
 ments, and predisposed them to believe that they were 
 true. Every execution spread the report of the tenets 
 hostile to the church of Eome more widely. The 
 crusades against the Vaudois scattered them all over 
 Europe, carrying their tenets along with them, till, 
 when the nations were sufficiently leavened with the 
 persuasion that the clergy were deceiving them, the 
 reformation openly broke out, and a death-blow was 
 inflicted on the power of the Eoman bishop, under 
 which he is even now reeling and staggering. 
 
 Unhappily those who embraced the reformed doc- 
 trines, and who, under the influence of them, abjured 
 all subjection to the bishop of Eome and his clergy, 
 instead of persevering in the use of that implement by 
 which all their influence had been gained, and on which 
 solely the maintaining and extending of that influence 
 depended, as the Christians of the two first centuries of 
 Christianity had done, bearing persecution patiently, 
 and when persecuted in one city, fleeing to another, 
 carrying their light with them, in an evil hour betook 
 themselves to the same inferior weapon with their 
 adversaries, and endeavoured to defend and maintain 
 their tenets by force of arms. The consequence was, 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHERS. 
 
 237 
 
 that wherever the adherents of the church of Rome 
 greatly preponderated, they crushed the Reformation, 
 and destroyed the reformers, or expelled them from 
 their territory. The appeal to arms also being more 
 exciting than the appeal to truth, diverted the attention 
 of both parties from the truth, excited violent prejudices 
 against one' another, disqualified both from holding such 
 quiet and friendly conferences as were necessary to the 
 diffusion of truth among them. The result has been, 
 that since the appeal to arms was made, the progress of 
 the Reformation has been arrested even in those coun- 
 tries where Protestants possessed the chief power. They 
 have scarcely gained an inch of ground, w^hile in some 
 places they have lost ground. They have imitated the 
 church of Rome in making laws against dogmas, which 
 they wished to eradicate from the minds of the people. 
 But laws are not an appeal to truth, but to force ; and, 
 therefore, their tendency is to withdraw the attention 
 of both parties from the only means by which they 
 might both come to the knowledge of the truth ; namely, 
 calm, unprejudiced inquiry and discussion. 
 
 The history of the great Revolution in France, at the 
 close of the last century, and the various struggles which 
 have succeeded it, furnish most important and pregnant 
 illustrations of the imbecility of mere physical force 
 when brought into opposition with the vigorous com- 
 munication of thought. Louis XIV. and the Roman 
 Catholic clergy succeeded in expelling the sacred Scrip- 
 tures from France, or at least having them shut up in 
 holes and corners, so that the people generally had no 
 access to them. Religion thus had no basis to rest on, 
 but the authority of the prince, and the unsupported 
 assertions of the clergy. The Reformation had intro- 
 duced a taste for inquiry and speculation, and had 
 accustomed the more educated of the people to view the 
 clerical system, without that sort of awe which would 
 have prevented them from seeing and believing its 
 
^38 
 
 THE MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 worldly, rapacious, and tyrannical character. Knowing 
 nothing of religion but what they heard from the clergy, 
 or saw in them, they soon became persuaded that it was 
 a mere trick to obtain money and power. These specu- 
 lations passed from religion to politics, and they soon saw 
 that the Divine right, by which their kings claimed to 
 govern their subjects as they saw fit, was merely another 
 and kindred trick to obtain money and power ; and that 
 these two deceptions — the ecclesiastical and political — 
 were employed to uphold one another. These opinions 
 having gained possession of a large proportion of the 
 French people, they began to manifest discontent with 
 their condition, as slaves to their civil and ecclesiastical 
 rulers. The sovereign and clergy attempted to meet 
 this discontent by physical force ; but that only provoked 
 retaliation, and the balance of physical force being now 
 against the monarch and clergy, both were hurled from 
 their seats with terrific violence. 
 
 Other nations, whose rulers and clergy were afraid of 
 the contagion of similar opinions, interfered. Particu- 
 larly Britain became prominent in the interference ; not, 
 however, with a kind and conciliatory diffusion of truths 
 and principles, calculated to inform and beneficially to 
 influence the French people ; but, by warfare, and the 
 usual operations of that accursed art — shooting, stabbing, 
 burning, and plundering. This measure roused the 
 spirit of the whole French nation to resist the aggres- 
 sion. They too flew to arms, and soon proved themselves 
 to be as expert in shooting and stabbing as their 
 invaders, and very quickly expelled them. But the 
 appeal to arms furnished a favourable opportunity for a 
 military adventurer of extraordinary powers of mind to 
 obtain their admiration by leading them to victory, and 
 to persuade them that the interest and honour of France 
 required them to invade, and plunder, and massacre the 
 people of other countries. This they were taught to 
 call glory; and the glory thus obtained was indicated 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHEES. 
 
 239 
 
 to them by giving them medals to he hung by ribands 
 from their breasts ; by the permission to put feathers in 
 their hats ; by presenting them with painted sticks, called 
 batons, to be held in their hands; and all the other 
 gewgawery which is employed in all nations, the most 
 savage as well as the most civilised, to mark the men who 
 have most distinguished themselves in these fell struggles 
 for the precious life. Bonaparte having thus gradually 
 obtained the direction of the whole physical force of 
 France, ^ employed it in gratifying the vanity of the nation, 
 pampering the pride and cupidity of the army, and 
 extending his own power; and thus, for a time, suc- 
 ceeded in diverting the minds of the people from those 
 political speculations which were the original cause of 
 the Be volution. 
 
 In the meanwhile, not one inch of ground was gained 
 in bringing the minds of the people into a safe and 
 satisfactory state. Infidelity was as prevalent as ever ; 
 and political speculations, although suspended for a time, 
 had not led to the establishing of any sound or perma- 
 nent principles. 
 
 At length Bonaparte overstrained his power, and the 
 bubble burst. He was dethroned, and the Bourbons 
 restored. Had they embraced this favourable oppor- 
 tunity of introducing information among the people, and 
 ruling them on just principles, France, wearied and worn 
 out by its exhausting wars, and sighing for repose, might 
 have become the centre of light and peace to Europe ; 
 but the monarch and the clergy, untaught by past 
 experience, began again to resort to physical force, the 
 one to establish his despotical authority, the other their 
 spiritual influence ; neither of which would bear exami- 
 nation. The people were again roused to resistance, 
 and drove the monarch a second time from his throne, 
 and forced the clergy to skulk into hiding-places to avoid 
 the storm of popular indignation that menaced them; 
 and another prince of the same family, who was supposed 
 
^40 
 
 THE MEANS OF INFI.UENCING 
 
 to be imbued with the spirit and principles of liberty, 
 was chosen to succeed him. But he and the clergy 
 soon began their old artifices, sustained by the old 
 weapon, physical force. Mere opinion again prevailed, 
 he was driven from the throne, and a republic established, 
 with an elected president. 
 
 Still nothing has been done to direct aright the minds 
 of the people, by furnishing them with genuine inform- 
 ation. Still wilder and more ruinous speculations, 
 political and social, have been gaining ground, and 
 spreading over the whole of Europe. A premature 
 outburst has been, to some extent, quelled ; but the 
 rulers, still unconvinced of the imbecility of physical 
 force, when brought into collision with the progress of 
 opinion, stand with arms in their hands, as if to fell 
 to the ground the spiritual unearthly powder which 
 they dread, wherever it may show itself; and many 
 persons, who" desire to preserve their property and 
 their lives, are betaking themselves to the clergy and 
 the ceremonies of the church of Borne, as the only 
 bulwarks of social order. This they mistake for a re- 
 action in favour of monarchical and clerical despo- 
 tism, while it is nothing more than the rallying of 
 persons who possess property round the chief abettors 
 of physical force, to protect them from the dreaded 
 results of those speculations which they know to be 
 fermenting among the people. To aid this imaginary 
 reaction, or rather to obtain a despotism for himself, 
 upheld by physical force, the president of the French 
 republic is endeavouring to gain the army by giving 
 them sweetmeats ; and some of the soldiers, to express 
 their approbation of this new but pleasant accompani- 
 ment to a review, are shouting “ Vive Napoleon,"' and 
 even “ Vive VEmpereurV 
 
 Meanwhile the malcontents are driven back, fortu- 
 nately for themselves, upon the very source of their 
 strength, and the employment of that weapon by which 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHERS. 
 
 241 
 
 they have advanced from their prostrate condition to their 
 present dreaded, and really formidable power, the com- 
 municating of their thoughts, and the diffusion of their 
 principles. The effect of this weapon will doubtless be 
 greatly aided by the revolting executions and massacres 
 in the perpetration of which the soldiers have been 
 employed, which will predispose multitudes of humane 
 persons, and the soldiers themselves, to take part with 
 the victims of these cruelties. The only remedy for this 
 frightful disorder in the body politic of Europe, is the 
 free circulation of truth of every kind, which will correct 
 the wild extravagant speculations of the people, and 
 prevent them from proceeding to open force, and give 
 time for a settlement of the relations of the rulers and 
 the subjects on principles of justice and mutual benefit. 
 But the attempt on the part of the rulers and clergy to 
 keep down speculation by force of arms will only increase 
 the zest for it, till the people find themselves sufficiently 
 powerful to break their bonds, and then may come 
 collisions and catastrophes more terrible than any that 
 have yet been witnessed. Nothing can long save those 
 rulers whose power has no better support than brute or 
 rather savage force, or those clergy who are attempting 
 to recover their influence by means of winking and 
 weeping dolls and pictures, from the indignation and 
 contempt of a befooled and insulted people. 
 
 One principal cause of these perpetually recurring 
 convulsions in all states, lies in a practice which is 
 still followed even among the most enlightened nations 
 of the world, namely that of sustaining the authority of 
 the law exclusively by the threatening of pains and 
 penalties for the violation of it. We by no means 
 insinuate that all appeals to force should be withdrawn. 
 There are always to be found persons whom no other 
 motive than the dread of punishment will restrain from 
 the violation of the law, even as there are often in the 
 
24Q THE MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 best regulated families, children whose wilfulness and 
 violent tempers must he kept under control by an appeal 
 to the rod. But an appeal to force ought to be kept out 
 of sight as much as possible, and ought to be the very 
 last appeal, instead of being, as it usually is, the first. 
 
 The first thing necessary towards a stable support of 
 any law is, that the people understand it, and understand 
 the necessity of it, and the benefit which they derive 
 from it. For providing this support of the law, legis- 
 lators, we conceive, ought to see that the people receive 
 such education as will enable them to understand those 
 laws which are applicable to them, and to which they 
 are expected to conform themselves. They do not, we 
 conceive, fulfil their duty, by leaving the education of 
 the people to the private speculation of teachers, nor to 
 education societies, nor to churches. Private teachers 
 and societies for education may or may not give the 
 people such instruction as would enable them to under- 
 stand the laws which they are expected to obey. 
 Churches are bound to see that those who adhere to 
 them are educated for the purpose of making them 
 acquainted with that higher law which it is their duty to 
 explain and uphold. But legislators are bound to see 
 that the people have the means of knowing and under- 
 standing their enactments, and the reasons for them; and 
 ought not to found the authority of the law on mere 
 force of arms. Nothing surely can be more revolting 
 than the aspect in which legislators present their enact- 
 ments. “We ordain so and so, and so; whosoever shall 
 disobey our command, shall be subjected to such and 
 such penalties, and all judges, magistrates, &c., are hereby 
 ordered to see these penalties inflicted on the violators 
 of this our decree.” This law comes forth upon a people 
 who perhaps are incapable of understanding the nature 
 and purposes of it. No pains have been taken to have 
 their minds in such a state of intellectual training as 
 might enable them to understand the necessity of the 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHEES. 
 
 US 
 
 law, or any benefit that they can derive from it, so as to 
 gain their hearty assent and countenance to it. The 
 sole appeal being to force, tends to beget in their minds 
 suspicions that the law is not for their benefit, but for 
 the interest of the legislators themselves, at their 
 expense; and unhappily, legislators have often given 
 their people too good ground for such suspicions. And 
 so a disposition is generated in them to evade the law, 
 or to trample it under foot if they dare. We do not say 
 that laws should be unsupported by the threatenings of 
 pains and penalties on the violators of them. But the 
 chief reliance of legislators for obtaining obedience to 
 their laws, should be the justice and beneficial tendency 
 of their enactments, and the intelligence of the people 
 to discern these attributes of the law, and the good 
 dispositions of the people, to maintain the peace and 
 good order of their community. And the pains and 
 penalties should be rather kept in reserve in case of 
 necessity, than paraded in front and rear of the law, as 
 the only ground on which it is expected to be obeyed. 
 
 One great advantage of the introduction of juries 
 drawn from the mass of the nation into the execution of 
 the law is, that it tends to make the people generally 
 acquainted with the law, and with the reasons for its 
 requirements. Barristers are thereby obliged to make 
 their pleadings intelligible to juries, that is to the mass 
 of the population. Judges are laid under the same 
 necessity in their charges and explanations of the law. 
 The necessity goes back to the legislature, which must 
 render its laws capable of being explained by judges and 
 barristers, and of being understood by the people. And 
 all that is further wanting, is the bringing up the minds 
 of the people to such intellectual culture, as shall enable 
 them to understand the charges of the judges, and the 
 pleadings of the barristers. 
 
 In the criminal law, the advantage of juries is shared 
 
244 
 
 THE MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 alike by England and Scotland ; but we conceive that 
 England has a high advantage over Scotland in the 
 administration of the civil law not criminal, by the 
 introduction of juries into its law courts, to pronounce 
 upon the merits of the question brought under litigation. 
 In Scotland, no civil case is decided by a jury. Juries 
 have of late years been introduced to ascertain certain 
 points in connection with civil suits, analogous to those 
 points which are referred to Masters in Chancery, in 
 England, by the Lord Chancellor. But they are never 
 permitted to pronounce upon the merits of the whole 
 case under litigation ; that being left for the decision of 
 the Lords of Session, as judges. The immediate result of 
 this arrangement is, that the pleadings of the advocates 
 being addressed exclusively to the judges, are couched 
 in technical language, utterly unintelligible to the public; 
 and the decisions of the judges are given forth in a 
 style more like the response of a pagan oracle than the 
 declaration addressed, as it ought to be, to the whole 
 nation, of a law in which all are interested. They are 
 couched in a language which is neither Scotch, nor 
 English, nor Latin, but a barbarous mixture of all three, 
 intelligible to no class of human beings under the whole 
 heaven, but the legal corporation of Scotland. The 
 next result is, that while the educated people of England 
 are well acquainted with the general principles of English 
 law, and value them, and evince deep interest in the 
 decisions of their judges, the educated people of Scotland 
 know little or nothing of their law, and have no further 
 interest in it than so far as it regulates their own 
 private concerns. The judges of England are promi- 
 nent public functionaries, nearly allied to the highest 
 statesmen of the realm, whose names and characters are 
 familiar to all educated Englishmen. The Scotch judges 
 are seldom heard of, and seem to possess little distinc- 
 tion of character beyond the limited circle of the pro- 
 fession. Some, indeed, have proved themselves to be 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHERS. 
 
 245 • 
 
 able men by their extra-official writings, and by their 
 popular pleadings as barristers in criminal cases ; but 
 have instantly, on their elevation to the bench, sunk 
 into obscurity. It is in vain that we look for such 
 names as Hale, Mansfield, or Kenyon, in the history of 
 Scotland. So utterly devoid of general interest has 
 Scottish law become, that scarcely a passing notice of it 
 is to be found in the popular cyclopaedias of the day. 
 
 A much greater evil, however, arises out of its being 
 shut up within the legal profession, than its being de- 
 prived of all public interest, namely, its uncertainty, and 
 liability to abuse. The tendency of the decisions of the 
 English judges is to merge minute distinctions, and to 
 bring the law under broad principles, intelligible to the 
 whole kingdom. This tendency is indicated by Black- 
 stone in his expression, “ The law loves uniformity.”* 
 The tendency of the decisions of the Scotch judges is to 
 give weight to minute distinctions, so as to render the 
 whole law unintelligible to the people. Attorneys, or 
 writers, as they are called in Scotland, and lawyers of 
 great practice, are accustomed to say that they never can 
 conjecture how a case will be decided, however clear it 
 may appear to them ; because they never can foresee what 
 insignificant point may be swelled into importance, when 
 it comes before the judges. An incident is said to have 
 occurred in the law courts of Edinburgh, of such a nature 
 that if it had occurred in England, it would have been 
 felt to the extremity of the kingdom. When causes are 
 brought before the chief court, called the Court of Session, 
 in Edinburgh, they are, in the first instance, heard and 
 decided upon by one of the judges sitting as lord in 
 ordinary, as the phrase is, from whose decision there is 
 an appeal to the inner house, where a certain portion of 
 the whole bench sit in judgment upon it, and from 
 whose decision there lies no appeal, but to the House of 
 Lords. One of these lords in ordinary, after hearing a 
 
 * Comment., Book II., Chap, iii, 
 
246 
 
 THE MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 cause, is said to have addressed the advocate for one of 
 the parties to the effect, that he was sorry that their 
 case was so plainly and palpably right in law, that he 
 must decide in their favour, for he knew that his deci- 
 sion would be reversed in the inner house. This 
 astounding charge, brought against the integrity of the 
 supreme court of law in Scotland by one of the judges 
 of that court, sitting and acting in his official capacity, 
 passed in Edinburgh for a mere sarcastic joke, and was 
 scarcely heard of beyond the legal circle. 
 
 Nor is this uncertainty the worst effect of the admi- 
 nistration of the law being confined to the legal corpo- 
 ration. It is rendered by that means liable to abuse, and 
 to be converted into an instrument of injustice and 
 oppression. Their decision in the case of the Church 
 of Scotland, by which 400 ministers were forced to resign 
 their livings, or to do violence to their consciences, was 
 one in which the Crown, the aristocracy, and the courts of 
 law had a direct interest, as against the liberty which the 
 Church claimed, not on its own behalf, but in behalf of 
 the people of Scotland;* and the ministers and people of 
 
 * From the technical manner in which the law courts of Scotland 
 give forth their dicta^ the English public could never be made to 
 understand that the object which the majority of the Scottish clergy 
 sought was not the power of their own courts, but the power of the 
 people to reject such presentees of patrons as they disapproved of. The 
 whole subject under litigation was so mystified by legal technicalities, 
 that tories, whigs, and radicals were alike unanimous in trampling 
 underfoot the rights not of the clergy, but of the Scottish people. The 
 liberties of the clergy did not come into question till an advanced state 
 of the conflict, when the law courts assumed authority over the church 
 courts, which never had before been claimed ; and attempted, by 
 threatening the ministers with pains and penalties, to force them to 
 ordain presentees whom the people had rejected; and that, for the 
 purpose of giving to these presentees a legal right to the emoluments 
 of the ministry. The church courts had nothing to do with the 
 emoluments of ministers, nor did they for a moment dispute the right 
 of the law courts to dispose of these emoluments as they might see 
 good ; and if the law courts, being dissatisfied with the church courts, 
 had kept the emoluments in abeyance, or had obtained liberty from 
 parliament to bestow them on the patron’s presentees without ordi- 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHEES. 
 
 2i7 
 
 the Free Church have the testimony not only of many 
 of the ablest lawyers in the kingdom, but of a consider- 
 able portion of the very judges of the Court of Session 
 itself, that the decision was in direct opposition to the 
 principles of the law, and to the practice of the court 
 for two centuries. And, when that court sent out its 
 nominees to ordain men to the sacred ministry, on its 
 
 nation, tliere would have been no disruption. But conscientious 
 ministers could not permit a sacred ordinance to be degraded to the 
 rank of a mere legal ceremony, to implement a right to an income 
 and the occupation of a house. It was this degradation of the worship 
 and service of God that roused the spirit of so large a portion of the 
 ministers and people of Scotland, and determined them rather to forego 
 the benefits of a state provision for their church than to permit them- 
 selves to he implicated in so scandalous a profanation. 
 
 We deplore the disruption, except on account of the immediate 
 good that it has produced. The excellency of the ecclesiastical system 
 of Scotland was manifested in the disruption itself. It was in the 
 Established Church of Scotland that those high and noble principles 
 were fostered, which impelled so large a body of ministers to part with 
 all their worldly property, and to cast themselves on the providence of 
 God and on the Christian character of their people for a provision for 
 themselves and their families. We dread the voluntary system into 
 which they have been thrown, chiefly because it gives too much 
 prominence and importance to the money element in their delibera- 
 tions, which we fear will tend to lower the spiritual tone both of 
 ministers and people, especially the latter. Questions of money never 
 came before the courts of the Established Church of Scotland. The 
 funds of the church were under the absolute control of the law courts, 
 and that control the church never complained of, nor disputed. The 
 ministers were frugally supported from a fund that belonged to no one ; 
 and therefore by their support no one was injured. The advocates of 
 the voluntary system often take credit to that system for the splendid 
 liberality manifested by the members of the Free Church. It is true 
 the money was contributed on the voluntary system ; but the zeal and 
 devotedness to God which called forth the contributions, were fostered 
 under the system of the Established Church of Scotland. Again we 
 say that we deplore the disruption, and would rejoice in any prospect of 
 the breach being healed, by the legislature manifesting a disposition to 
 guarantee to the church, not its emoluments, hut its liberty of spiritual 
 action. All that the church courts ever demanded of the law courts, 
 was, “ let us ordain whom we will, or abstain from ordaining whom 
 we will, under the direction of the Word of God ; and do you dispense 
 or withhold the emoluments of the church as you will, under the 
 direction of the law of the land.” 
 
248 
 
 THE MEANS OF INFLUENCING 
 
 own authority, for the purpose of making good a legal 
 right to the occupation of a house, and to a certain 
 income, they were resorting to a measure that never 
 before had been resorted to, as was manifest from the 
 reasons given by those judges who voted for it, and what, 
 most certainly, was in opposition to their own standard 
 books of law, and to the prelections of the professors of 
 Scotch law.'^ Our conviction is, that were it not for the 
 union of Scotland with England, the liberties of Scotland 
 depending, so far as civil rights are concerned, on a 
 court constituted as the Court of Session is, would he 
 worth very little ; and the wisest course the people of 
 Scotland could take to secure their liberties, would he 
 either to get the whole law of England extended to 
 Scotland, or, at least, the popular English mode of 
 administering their own law. 
 
 The English reader will understand better the differ- 
 ence between the English and Scotch modes of pro- 
 cedure in law courts, when we say that the administra- 
 tion of the Scotch civil law is conducted on very much 
 the same principles with the English Court of Chancery, 
 the proceedings and decisions of which are as little inte- 
 resting to Englishmen, as the proceedings of the Court 
 of Session are to Scotchmen. There is no point which 
 the English public should guard with more jealous care 
 
 * We had almost said that no English judge would have ventured 
 on such a decision in the face of the English public ; but we were 
 somewhat staggered hy observing that, in a recent ecclesiastical case, 
 the judges gave their several opinions on the point of law in conformity 
 with their known religious, or quasi religious, predilections ; so that the 
 public prints, aware of their predilections, could predict the result of 
 their joint deliberation. But, he it remembered, that these judges 
 were not administering the common or statute law of England, which 
 is thrown open to the public by the power given to juries. They were 
 administering a law as much excluded from the public as the Scottish 
 law, and were in circumstances nearly akin to those of the Court of 
 Session. The difference of procedure in the ordinary courts of English 
 and Scottish law lies not in the individual character of the judges of 
 each respectively, hut in the constitution of their respective courts. 
 
THE MINDS OF OTHEES. 
 
 249 
 
 than the appeal to juries in civil causes. This is nearly as 
 necessary to secure the liberty of the subject, as criminal 
 trials by jury. For, as the crown may appear as plaintiff 
 or defendant before its owm courts of law, the liberty of 
 the subject might easily be brought into jeopardy by the 
 ingenuity of lawyers, if the introduction of the jury did 
 not compel them to render their enterprises and their 
 tactics intelligible to the whole British public. 
 
 The main object which the English public should seek 
 to attain in the administration of their law, is to bring 
 their courts of equity to an analogous mode of proce- 
 dure with the courts of law, by submitting equity cases 
 to juries of intelligent men not of the legal profession. 
 The present state of the Court of Chancery, the enor- 
 mous fees of its officers, consequently the enormous 
 expense of its suits ; its interminable delays, the direct 
 and powerful temptations which it holds out to retain 
 property in the hands of the nominees of the court 
 receiving payment for their care of it ; the utter ruin 
 that awaits any person of limited income who may be 
 involved in its meshes, and which he may be without 
 any design on his part, render it altogether a disgrace 
 to the civilisation of the age. We know that lawyers 
 would exclaim against such an innovation as impossible 
 and ruinous. Some of them are already disposed to 
 complain of the power given to juries even in the 
 ordinary law courts, and desperate attempts have been 
 made, in various ways, in effect to supersede them. In 
 cases of libel they were for a time effectually superseded. 
 And, doubtless, it would be more convenient for the 
 lawyers to have the whole pleadings and decisions, as in 
 the Scotch law courts, confined within their own cor- 
 poration. But just for that reason, we hold that they 
 are not competent judges in the case; and would say, as 
 Sir Robert Peel said, when he proposed to supersede 
 the Court of Chancery, in regard to the Incumbered 
 Estates of Ireland, that the lawyers were the last 
 
250 INFLUENCING THE MINDS OF OTHERS. 
 
 persons whom he would consult on the subject. So we 
 say with regard to the whole accumulated mass of cor- 
 ruption, in connection with the Court of Chancery. And 
 we would answer all objections with this simple prim 
 ciple, that no law should exist in a civilised country, 
 which is not capable of being made intelligible to the 
 nation at large, together with the justice and necessity 
 of it ; and, that in proportion to the necessary com- 
 plexity of the law, should be the pains taken to bring 
 up the body of the people, by suitable education, to the 
 power of understanding it. Better that persons, exposed 
 to Chancery suits, were compelled at once to leave the 
 decision of their claims to a throw of dice, than that all 
 parties, which sometimes are public institutions, should 
 be deprived of the use of their property for many years, 
 often to their utter ruin. The legislature has lately 
 been induced to cut right down through all its cobweb 
 intricacies and subtleties, greatly, we believe, to the 
 benefit of Ireland, by a simple act of Parliament; and it 
 would relieve the country from an intolerable incubus 
 if, by some sweeping measure of the same kind, its 
 whole proceedings were thrown, by means of juries, 
 open to the common sense of the country.* 
 
 These remarks on the political history of Europe, and 
 on the administration of law, may seem somewhat remote 
 from a treatise on the human mind. But they furnish 
 illustrations of a great and most important principle in 
 human nature, that the most powerful implement which 
 we possess of influencing other minds, and consequently 
 the acts of other men, is not brute force, however for- 
 midable that may be, but the communication of thought ; 
 and that the framing of the laws on the principles of 
 justice between man and man, and the rendering of 
 the people capable by education of understanding the 
 law, and of understanding also the radical justice and 
 
 * See Appendix, Note D. 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 251 
 
 reasonableness of it, form the only sure basis of a 
 national law, commensurate with the extent of the 
 nation. Such a people, and such a law, would be 
 in no danger of revolution arising from among them- 
 selves. Some portion of them might be discontented ; 
 but their discontent would effectually be kept in check 
 by the satisfaction of the great mass of the nation, and 
 by their determination to uphold a law which they found 
 to protect their persons and property from violence, and 
 to preserve the peace and order of the community. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 These then are the mental powers which the Great 
 Creator has laid, as the foundation on which to rear his 
 moral and responsible creature, man. And it may be a 
 useful form in which to sum up what has been advanced, 
 to view these natural powers which we have been con- 
 templating, as the preparation made for the superin- 
 duction of the moral nature of man, and his responsibility 
 to his Maker. 
 
 An intelligent mechanist on examining any machine, 
 a clock for example, might usually, without any expla- 
 nation from the maker of it, discern the use and construc- 
 tion of it. He might, perhaps, detect the use of it, by 
 seeing its dial and indices, and its bell with the hammer 
 attached to it, and then trace the contrivances by which 
 its movements were effected. Or he might search first 
 for the moving power, which he would detect as soon as 
 he saw the weights, or discovered the spring in its case. 
 He might then set himself to find what contrivance 
 prevented the moving power, when wound up, from 
 expending itself at once ; and, tracing the wheels con- 
 nected with it, he would see that each succeeding one 
 would necessarily increase in velocity till he came to 
 that which acts on the pendulum, and is controlled by 
 
252 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 it ; and then measuring the length of the pendulum, he 
 might find that it was calculated to swing seconds, so 
 that the escape of every succeeding tooth of the wheel 
 connected with it, marked a second. He might then 
 trace the wheels from the pendulum to those which bore 
 the indices, and would find that the velocity of one 
 was twelve times greater than that of another ; and the 
 velocity of a third, sixty times greater than that of the 
 second, by which he might infer that they were intended 
 to indicate by their indices, respectively hours, minutes, 
 and seconds. He then might examine the striking 
 machinery, and find that it was so contrived, that as 
 often as one of the indices came to a certain point on 
 the dial, the hammer would strike the hell, and that it 
 would strike it as often as the number pointed to by 
 another of the indices. Thus the whole machine would 
 be laid open to him, — the moving power, the regulating 
 and controlling power, the indicating power, and the 
 proclaiming power. 
 
 So, on examining the mind, when we think of the 
 pleasure or pain which forms an element in many, 
 perhaps originally in all our sensations, and observe 
 how these sensations are caused by external objects 
 operating on the organs of sense, we say here is 
 the moving power which sets the whole machinery in 
 motion. But is there no controlling and regulating 
 power upon the motions that would be caused by the 
 pain or pleasure of sensations ? We search and find the 
 discriminating power by w^hich the mind discovers the 
 qualities of external objects, and their adaptation to give 
 pleasure or pain. And we then detect another motive 
 power, in the pleasure connected with its discriminations 
 and discoveries. But what effects do these motive 
 powers produce? We find that they produce various 
 emotions and operations in the mind itself, — as desire, 
 fear, hope, joy, and sorrow, — and also cogitations, infer- 
 ences, reasonings ; but pursuing our track, we find the 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 253 
 
 power of the mind over the body, a power which it exerts 
 at will, and which becomes the acting and indicating 
 power: and in connection with this, we find a pro- 
 claiming power in the organs of speech. But here is a 
 power to which we found nothing analogous in the clock, 
 namely, a registering power, by which all important acts 
 of the mind and many of its cogitations are recorded, 
 and recorded in such a way that they may at any time, 
 according to certain laws, he brought up before the 
 mind ; — as if a clock had machinery connected with it, 
 by which all its movements, and stoppages, and errors 
 in indicating or striking, during the whole period of its 
 existence, should be accurately marked, and a record of 
 them preserved. Let us look a little more attentively 
 at these various powers. 
 
 The motive or moving power. 
 
 The mind is introduced into the world with all its 
 powers in preparation for movement, hut they would lie 
 dormant, were it not laid open by means of the organs of 
 sense to the influence of the external world ; as a steam 
 engine may be complete in all its parts, but motionless, 
 till steam is introduced to it from without. The action 
 of the external world, through the organs of sense which 
 move the mind, is the pain or pleasure which it occasions 
 to it. This pleasure or pain is of two kinds. The first 
 is that pleasure or pain which forms an element of the 
 sensation itself ; the second is a pleasure attached to our 
 discerning resemblances and differences among our 
 sensations. Pain also is experienced in discriminating 
 between sensations; but it is not derived from the 
 exercise of the discriminating faculty itself, but from 
 the attention which it directs to painful sensations. 
 
 The pleasure and pain, that form elements of sensa- 
 tions, are the spring of sensual movements ; while the 
 pleasure derived from discerning differences and resem- 
 
254 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 blances among our sensations, is the spring of intel- 
 lectual movements. 
 
 Pain, or rather the desire to avoid pain, is the most 
 extensively influential motive. The want of food, 
 exposure to cold, or to too great heat, cause painful 
 sensations, and threaten the loss of life ; and, therefore, 
 the great masses of mankind are engaged in constant 
 efforts to avoid the pains of hunger, and cold, and 
 heat, by procuring food and shelter. A large proportion 
 of those who are not immediately engaged in obtaining 
 food and shelter, are employed in seeking relief from 
 pains to which they have subjected themselves by indul- 
 gence. By frequently receiving stimulants into the 
 stomach, such as intoxicating liquors, opium, or tobacco, 
 a want is created which causes a pain, almost as difficult 
 to bear as the want of food. A certain style of dress, 
 and of household economy, which is understood to 
 mark a certain station in society, creates innumerable 
 demands which cannot be neglected or evaded but at 
 the expense of a mortification of pride, and sense of 
 degradation more intolerable to many minds than bodily 
 suffering. A large class of men are, therefore, con- 
 stantly occupied in procuring not the necessaries of 
 life— food and shelter, nor the indulgencies of artificial 
 appetites, but in satisfying the craving demands of vanity 
 and pride. Curiosity stimulates another class to action. 
 That law of the mind by which the pleasure of sensations 
 or of discriminations diminishes on every repetition, 
 excites multitudes who are not incessantly engaged in 
 seeking the supply of natural or artificial wants, to 
 search for new sensations, new objects, new discoveries 
 of differences or resemblances among objects, new 
 analogies or relations or classifications among them. 
 These are the more intellectual class ; although even 
 the intellectual operations of these are often prosecuted 
 for the purpose of adding to their importance among 
 their fellow-men. 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 255 
 
 These various pleasures and pains branch out into 
 various emotions or passions, all of which are excited by 
 the contemplation of pleasure or pain in various aspects. 
 Desire, fear, hope, disappointment, are the suggestion 
 of pleasure or pain in various connections and combina- 
 tions, as already explained. 
 
 The objects of these emotions are transferred from 
 the mere pleasure or pain to the external causes of 
 them ; as soon as we discover their immediate causes 
 in external material objects or inferior animals, and 
 their more remote causes in the character and acts of 
 our fellow-men. 
 
 The recognition of the Deity as constantly present, 
 moulding, controlling, governing all things, having all 
 things at his absolute disposal, tends to direct some of 
 these emotions, such as fear, love, gratitude, and admira- 
 tion, to him as their object. 
 
 Those emotions, which consist substantially in the 
 desire of obtaining pleasure, or avoiding pain, of some 
 kind, but variously modified, constitute the motive 
 power of the mental mechanism, without which it 
 would lie inert and useless. But these emotions, if left 
 without regulation and control, would keep the mind in 
 a constant state of unrestrained activity, rushing from 
 side to side, as it might be impelled by the various 
 objects presented to it. 
 
 The regulating or controlling power 
 
 is, therefore, introduced. This power in its elements 
 consists in the power of discerning differences and 
 resemblances between our sensations ; between those 
 objects that cause sensations, and between our fellow- 
 men — their various characters, their powers, and their 
 dispositions to do good or to do evil, to afford pleasure, 
 or to cause pain. 
 
 This discerning or discriminating power, called 
 
256 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 sometimes judgment, and which is the fountain of all 
 knowledge, tends in various ways to control the motive 
 power of the passions or emotions. For example, it 
 sometimes enables us to foresee that the indulgence of 
 a pleasant sensation will certainly be followed by a series 
 of painful ones ; or, that present submission to a painful 
 sensation will prevent sensations still more painful, or 
 will lead to pleasant sensations. Sometimes it enables 
 us to foresee that by acting on the stimulus of an 
 emotion, we shall excite emotions in other persons who 
 have power to injure us, or to promote our happiness, 
 that will induce them to withhold from us means of 
 enjoyment, or to inflict upon us positive evil. By such 
 discoveries as these we are taught to consult our judgment 
 before we obey the impulse of our passions. This is 
 a lesson which children, from their circumstances, are 
 taught, with more or less efficacy, from the first dawn 
 of intellect. Another discovery which our intellectual 
 powers, operating on our consciousness, makes to us, 
 tending to the checking and controlling and regulating 
 of our passions, is, that we cannot cause pain to others 
 without laying the foundation of painful recollections to 
 ourselves ; and that if we give pleasure to others, we 
 lay the foundation of pleasant recollections in our own 
 bosoms. This consideration manifestly tends to check 
 the headlong gratification of such passions as anger, 
 hatred, envy, revenge, and others similar, and to lead 
 us to cherish and gratify such emotions as love, grati- 
 tude, compassion, generosity, and others of a beneficent 
 character. It enables us also to discover that, although 
 there is a certain pleasure connected with the gratifi- 
 cation of such passions as revenge, yet that that 
 pleasure consists merely in the removal of previous 
 pain. The having constantly before the mind injuries 
 fancied or real, with a tormenting craving after an 
 opportunity of doing mischief to the person whom we 
 believe to have injured us, far outweighs the momentary 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 257 
 
 pleasure of gratifying that craving, and so removing the 
 pain of it. The mischief, also, that we may have been 
 able to effect, leaves behind it recollections that can 
 afford pleasure only to a mind full of deadly malignity ; 
 a condition utterly incompatible with peace and comfort. 
 
 The highest exercise of the discriminating faculty 
 operating on our knowledge of external objects, and our 
 own consciousness, is our recognising the presence and 
 attributes of the Deity, his propriety in all creatures, 
 and lordship over all, his power over all, and, conse- 
 quently, his power to do evil or do good to ourselves. 
 When these views of the Deity are brought vividly 
 before the mind, and are combined with the knowledge 
 of him as our moral governor, the interested witness of 
 our acts and thoughts, his hatred of wickedness, and his 
 love of that which is good, and the responsibility under 
 which he holds us, then we possess within ourselves 
 the most powerful controller, regulator, and director of 
 our emotions. 
 
 The will, or acting power. 
 
 The will, we have seen, is the mind in the act of 
 choosing or refusing, and such acts are confined to its 
 power over the voluntary motions of the body. We 
 have explained that, in a looser sense, the mind is said 
 to exert the power of choosing and refusing over its 
 own operations ; but such power is not direct and imme- 
 diate, but circuitous, and chiefly, if not exclusively, 
 exercised through its power over the body. An exer- 
 cise of will, therefore, is an overt act, by which the 
 state of the mind is ascertained and indicated. It 
 is the result of its previous cogitations, emotions, 
 reasonings, and final determination. Now it is of the 
 utmost importance to a moral and responsible creature, 
 that its cogitations and deliberations and passions 
 should thus be brought to a decisive result in an 
 
258 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 overt act. Without such overt act, God could, indeed, 
 judge of the moral state of the mind, and deal with 
 it accordingly ; but, without such overt acts, men 
 could not discern the justice of God’s dealings. Nay, 
 the man himself under judgment could scarcely discern 
 it; because he might be conscious of wicked passions 
 rankling in his soul, and also of benevolent desires, 
 and, therefore, without overt acts to express the results 
 of his passions, he might be deceived with regard to 
 the state of his own mind. But when the mind is 
 brought to express its state by a decisive overt act — 
 when a man moves any member of his body with the 
 intention of doing good or evil, as when he moves his 
 foot to convey his body to a certain place or in a certain 
 direction with that intention, or his hand to strike, or 
 his finger to point, or his tongue to speak, nay, even 
 his eye to look significantly, all doubt is at an end ; his 
 mind has expressed the result of its previous cogita- 
 tions, and the act remains as the evidence of that 
 result. 
 
 The recording power. 
 
 This is perhaps the most significant and the most 
 wonderful preparation in the mechanism of the mind for 
 the moral responsibility which was to be connected with 
 it. The memory is a register that every man is made to 
 keep of ail his acts, and even of many of his cogitations 
 and designs, especially if they have in them the nature 
 of moral good or evil. This register, however, is placed 
 entirely out of his reach. He cannot prevent any act 
 or any thought from being recorded in it. Any attempt 
 to do so would only render the entry the more indelible. 
 He cannot modify or alter any entry in his register. 
 He may attempt to deceive others by hypocrisy and lies ; 
 but the facts of his life are written in his own memory 
 with perfect fidelity, without excuse or palliation or 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 259 
 
 misrepresentation. Nor can he efface any entry that 
 has ever been made. There it stands written as by the 
 finger of God himself. There is no power known which 
 can reach the memory of man, to deface or modify in 
 the slightest degree its faithful registry. 
 
 But while the keeping of this record is placed out of the 
 reach of the man in whose bosom it is written, so that he 
 has no power to prevent its being written, to modify it, 
 or to alter or efface the writing, he is permitted, nay, 
 compelled from time to time to peruse it. Objects are 
 constantly presenting themselves, that bring his actions 
 and thoughts before him. A person who has committed 
 a crime cannot approach the place which w^as the scene 
 of it, nor think of that place, nor meet with any of his 
 accomplices, nor see the victim of it, or any of his 
 family, nor think of him, nor read or hear of the 
 perpetration of any similar crime, or of the punishment 
 of a criminal, without having his guilt brought up before 
 him as distinctly and vividly as it was on the day that 
 he contracted it. Among the beautiful and significant 
 narratives of scripture, we are told, that the brethren 
 of Joseph, stung with resentment, envy and jealousy, 
 plotted his death ; that they were diverted from their 
 purpose, let him down into a pit, and afterwards took 
 him up and sold him to some merchants who were 
 passing, and who took him to Egypt and sold him 
 there for a slave ; that his brethren then dipped his coat 
 in blood and sent it to their father for the purpose of 
 making him believe that Joseph was devoured by 
 a wild beast. Twenty years afterwards they were con- 
 fronted with him in Egypt, and the very first perplexity 
 in which they found themselves involved, brought up 
 the whole scene of their treachery and wickedness 
 before them, with the most minute exactness, so that 
 they could tell what one and another said, and how 
 Joseph pleaded with them, and how they disregarded 
 his entreaties. Eighteen years after that first occasion. 
 
260 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 on the death of their father, the whole scene again rose 
 up before their minds, and filled them with apprehen- 
 sions ; and so doubtless it might have done, nay, and 
 probably did rise up before every one of them, on many 
 occasions, till the very hour of their death, when it 
 might be recalled to them with more terror than ever. 
 
 Now let it be supposed that all men being responsible 
 to God, are to be brought into his presence for judgment, 
 they will come carrying with them a perfect record of the 
 events and acts of their lives. The judge is thus 
 furnished with the grounds of his judgment, written by 
 the mechanism which he had contrived and placed in 
 the bosom of every man ; and, as he thus in effect wrote 
 it, so he can read it, and cause every individual to read 
 his own record, and perhaps also to read each other’s. 
 Men who have spent their lives in vice have only to be 
 confronted with the associates, or with the victims of their 
 crimes, or to be reminded of places which were the scenes 
 of their wickedness, in order that the events of their lives 
 may be brought up with perfect precision and clearness 
 in succession before them. Such a man sees then the 
 victim of a ferocious act of revenge, or of a system of 
 hypocrisy and lies. He turns away to avoid the recollec- 
 tions that are rushing into his mind, but meets full in 
 the face one of the accomplices of his crime : he is 
 stunned, and again turns away in agony, and his eye 
 encounters his parent, whose advices and warnings he 
 had disregarded, and whose parental authority he had 
 outraged. He is confounded, and casts his eyes down- 
 ward, but there he sees at his feet his children, whom he 
 had educated in vice. He is horror-struck; whither 
 shall he escape ? He looks upward, and there he meets 
 the eye of the Judge fastened on him, watching his 
 writhings, and searching him through and through. God 
 has set his crimes in order before him : his secret sins in 
 the light of his countenance. “ And I saw a great white 
 throne and him that sat on it, from whose face the 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 261 
 
 earth and the heaven fled away, and there was no place 
 for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand 
 before God ; and the hooks were opened, and another 
 book was opened, which is the hook of life : and the 
 dead were judged out of those things which were written 
 in the books according to their works — and whosoever 
 was not found written in the book of life, was cast into 
 the lake of fire.”* 
 
 The sum, then, of the whole is this : the mechanism of 
 the mind indicates that men were to be moved to action 
 by pleasure or pain connected with their sensations and 
 intellectual operations wrought into various emotions ; 
 that these emotions were intended to be under the 
 control and direction of the judgment or intellect ; that 
 the intellect was intended to be under the influence of 
 truth ; — truth of ever}^ kind fitted to influence human 
 emotions, truth respecting the qualities of external 
 material objects, truth respecting their own souls, truth 
 respecting the powers and dispositions of other men, 
 truth respecting the presence and attributes of the 
 invisible God, and the relation which he holds to man, 
 truth respecting past events, especially their own past 
 history ; that the state of the mind was to be ascertained 
 and indicated by the movements of the body ; and that 
 all the events and acts of their lives, so far at least as 
 these were calculated to influence the final judgment to 
 be pronounced upon them and their final destination, were 
 to be faithfully recorded in their own memory, and called 
 up before them from time to time, that they might not 
 appear in judgment ignorant of the history of their lives, 
 and of the account which they have to render. 
 
 * Rev. XX., 11, 12, 15. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 NOTE A. 
 
 I OBSERVE that Sir William Hamilton of Edinburgh, in his 
 edition of Dr. Eeid’s works, expresses a very decided opinion 
 that we receive from the sense of sight the conception of 
 form and of objects external to the mind, or, as he expresses 
 himself, a non ego. It is with much diffidence that I venture 
 to impugn the opinion of an author so acute and so thoroughly 
 acquainted with the whole literature of metaphysics. But 
 there is one fact which appears to me to be decisive against that 
 opinion, namely, that the sense of sight conveys to us the 
 notion of only two dimensions, length and breadth. This, if 
 I remember right, he admits. But matter exists in three 
 dimensions, length, breadth, and thickness or depth. We 
 cannot, therefore, obtain a conception of matter, or of empty 
 space, which is the negative of matter, through means of the 
 notion of only two dimensions. Hor can we receive the notion 
 of anything locally distinct from self, without the notion of 
 three dimensions, length and breadth being two, and the distance 
 the third. I cannot doubt or deny, however, with Dr. Brown, 
 that we receive no intimation of length and breadth, that is, 
 superficial form, from the sense of sight. But, with that sense 
 alone, I conceive it could only be form in the mind itself, 
 or rather as mere mental conception ; just as, from the sense 
 of taste, or smell, or hearing, we might receive the notion 
 of time or number, but only in the mind itself, as these senses 
 certainly could never convey to us conceptions of dimensions 
 of any kind, and consequently not of matter external to the 
 mind. 
 
 Sir William expresses another opinion respecting the sense 
 of sight, which I confess is to me incomprehensible, as coming 
 from the pen of so able a writer; namely, that we cannot 
 conceive of material form without colour, including white and 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 263 
 
 black among tbe colours. The refutation of this notion is so 
 obvious, that I almost suspect that I must misunderstand his 
 meaning, or that he holds the opinion in some sort of 
 transcendental sense, which my faculties are too obtuse, or too 
 little practised, to comprehend. It appears to me only necessary 
 to ask, how does a man born blind conceive of material form 1 
 Surely without reference to colour. ^ If any piece of matter be 
 put into my hands while I and it are in the dark, what notion of 
 colour can I connect with it] I may believe that, if it were 
 brought into the light, it would reflect some colour ; but if I 
 attribute to it any colour while it is in the dark, I attribute 
 to it what has no existence. Besides, can I not conceive of 
 matter so transparent as neither to refract or reflect colour ] 
 I can surely conceive of a cubic foot of atmospheric air, or 
 of a basin full of carbonic acid gas ; yet what colour can I ascribe 
 to them] Is it possible that Sir William is so intent on his deep- 
 sea fishing, that the objects that are floating on the surface under 
 his eye escape his notice ? 
 
 I think he also states, or at least conveys the idea, that the 
 sensation of colour necessarily implies the notion of some- 
 thing coloured. That notion I apprehend is formed after we 
 have obtained the notion of external objects, from which the 
 sensation of colour usually proceeds. If one of the rays of 
 the prismatic spectrum is made to fall on my eye, the green or 
 the red, &c., what is the object that is green or red? Not the 
 prism, for that is colourless transparent glass i not the sun, 
 for that is white with a circular disc. It conveys the notion 
 simply of colour, but not of a coloured object, and this notion 
 is the truth ; the notion of a coloured object would be false. 
 
 NOTE B. 
 
 It is supposed by some writers that the^ notion of space is 
 a necessary form of thought, and the universality of it, and 
 also the necessity of it, are chiefly relied upon as establishing 
 that point. In regard to the universality of the cognition or 
 notion, all men having material bodies over which their 
 minds exercise a certain control, the notion of matter must 
 be universal among them. The voluntary motions of these 
 bodies are performed in space ; it is therefore impossible to 
 perform these voluntary motions without forming the notion 
 of vacant space in which these motions are performed. The 
 universality of the notion, therefore, says ^ nothing as to its 
 being a necessary form of thought. A mind without power 
 
264 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 over voluntary motion, and with no other senses than those 
 of hearing, smelling, tasting, (and, as I conceive, although it 
 had also sight and touch,) could think, nay, could experience 
 pain and pleasure, desire and aversion, hope and fear; and 
 yet it could form no conception of matter and space. Space 
 is not therefore a universal form of thought, but only universal 
 to minds possessing power over the voluntary motions of 
 the body. 
 
 But it is alleged that the notion of space is not only universal, 
 but necessary. This necessity, I apprehend, is not absolute, but 
 relative. It is necessarily involved in the conception of matter. 
 
 It is the negative of matter ; but we cannot get rid of anything 
 positive and its negative at the same time. Kant and others rely 
 much on the fact, that, although we can get rid of the notion of 
 matter, we cannot get rid of the space which it left unoccupied. 
 Very true, we must have something or nothing. Take away the 
 something, and the nothing remains. A man born blind has no 
 conception of either light or darkness. If his eyes be opened so 
 that he receives the conception of light, he necessarily at the 
 same time receives the conception of darkness, and from that 
 moment he must have either light or darkness : take away the 
 notion of light, and the notion of darkness remains. Abstract 
 time is the negation of all being ; for all beings, whether mental 
 or material, (at least created beings, and if, as some have 
 hinted, that the Creator may not exist in time, his mode of 
 existence is to us absolutely inconceivable,) exist in time. We 
 may, therefore, get rid, in our conceptions, of being, but we 
 cannot get rid of the time that remains. Just so, all matter 
 exists in space. Empty space is the negation of matter. We 
 may get rid, in our conception, of matter ; but we cannot get rid 
 of the space that remains. That the notion of space is not an 
 absolutely necessary form of thought, but only relatively neces- 
 sary to our conception of matter, is obvious from this fact, that 
 we can think of mind and its operations — remembering, judging, 
 desiring, hoping, &c. — ^without reference to space, because these i 
 
 operations are not movements of matter, and have no relation to 
 space. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 265 
 
 NOTE C. 
 
 Most or all the abstractions of Kant and his followers may 
 be resolved into the power of the mind to observe differences, 
 and consequently similarities, among its sensations original and 
 remembered. If, in regard to any quality, the mind never had 
 opportunity of observing any difference, it could never form a 
 conception of that quality. If a condition could be conceived in 
 which all things under the observation of the mind were of the 
 same colour, the same temperature, the same bulk or quantity, 
 or the same consistency, it never could form any conception 
 of colour, temperature, bulk, or consistency. It is the power of 
 comparing sensations or objects, and noting differences, and con- 
 sequently resemblances, among them, that gives rise to these 
 abstractions. If all things appeared of the same number, it 
 would not be able to form the conception of number as a simul- 
 taneous quality. But the notion of time or duration is necessary 
 to the conception of being or to the consciousness of prolonged 
 existence, and the notion of consecutive number might be obtained 
 from any changes that indicated the lapse of time. 
 
 The system of Kant, so far as I have been able to form any 
 conception of it from a translation of some part of his works, 
 and without having been able to master some of his explanations 
 or definitions of terms, appears to me to be founded on fallacy. 
 He divides all cognitions into pure and empirical. By empirical, 
 he means those which are obtained by experience, which he 
 maintains must always be uncertain, never amounting to more 
 than probability. By pure cognitions, he means those that are 
 known by intuition or prior to all experience, which he maintains 
 can alone amount to certainty ; and therefore he seeks to found 
 a system of philosophy and morals upon these intuitive or 
 a priori cognitions. On this system we observe — 
 
 1. That his pure cognitions, such as time, space, and the 
 axioms of mathematics, are as empirical as his empirical cognitions. 
 The cognition of time is derived from the observation or conscious- 
 ness of prolonged existence ; that of space, is derived from the 
 cognition of matter, which is itself derived from our power over 
 the voluntary motions of the body, and this cognition, although 
 it may be native, is, I apprehend, not intuitive. Most of the axioms 
 of mathematics depend on our cognitions of matter and space. 
 Those that do not, such as “ Things that are equal to the same are 
 equal to one another,” or more generally, ‘^Things that are like 
 the same in any particular are like one another in that particular,” 
 we apprehend, are not, strictly speaking, self-evident, but are 
 received upon experiment. A child, or a savage, we apprehend, 
 would not, as soon as he understood the words, assent to the 
 
266 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 truth of the proposition, but would make trial of it in particular 
 instances, and would thus soon convince himself that, however 
 frequently he made the trial, the result would be always the 
 same. 
 
 2. No part of such a system of philosophy or morals can be 
 more certain than the arguments by which he seeks to prove 
 that his pure cognitions are not empirical. Now these arguments, 
 so far from being themselves self-evident, are complex, depending 
 on exact and minute distinctions, in which he and we may be 
 deceived. But, a chain of reasoning, like a material chain, is no 
 
 ^ stronger than the weakest link of it. Thus he holds that the exist- 
 ence of matter and space are intuitive forms of thought, and that 
 the external world is perceived intuitively by the sense of sight. 
 Why ? Because the perception of it by the sense of sight is 
 universal. Is every cognition by the sense of sight, which is uni- 
 versal, intuitive ] That he dare not assert, because the perception 
 of distance by the sense of sight, at least within certain limits, is 
 as universal as the perception of the external world. Every man 
 who has the use of his eyes can see that an object is within reach 
 of his arm, or that it is at the other end of the room, as certainly 
 as every man can perceive objects external to himself. But there 
 is a wide dijBference, Kant argues, between these two universal 
 perceptions, which he proceeds to explain. We do not here 
 dispute the validity of the distinction ; but we say that it is not 
 self-evident, aiid that his whole theory is not stronger than the 
 arguments by which he would establish that distinction. The 
 attempt to establish intuitive perception by reasoning appears 
 to bear absurdity on the face of it. If a perception were really 
 intuitive, it would require no reasoning to establish it. But he 
 relies much on the necessity, as well as universality, of certain 
 cognitions. We have already seen that necessity would not 
 prove them to be intuitive. We have seen that, as the univer- 
 sality of some cognitions does not arise from their being intuitive, 
 but from an experience which must be common to all men, so 
 that their necessity is only a relative necessity, depending upon 
 prior empirical cognitions. See note B. 
 
 3. Upon the system generally, we would remark, that as we are 
 made to depend for our existence, for the preservation of our 
 species, and for all our comforts on what Kant calls empirical 
 knowledge, it is not probable that we can possess knowledge of 
 really existing beings, more certain. Mathematical demonstration 
 gives more certainty, but it is employed on the measurement of 
 space, which is a mere negation of actual existence. From the 
 moment that an attempt is made to apply it to any positive 
 thing, it becomes as empirical and uncertain as any other branch 
 of knowledge. The demonstrations, then, rest on an if,” and 
 that if” ascertained by observation and testimony — ^nay, very 
 often on testimony which would not be received in a court of 
 justice to decide a question of property to the amount of twenty 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 267 
 
 shillings. Nevertheless we cast no doubt on these discoveries of 
 philosophy, which we believe to be much more certain than 
 many most satisfactorily proved decisions in courts of justice. 
 
 God has made us dependent for the salvation of the soul on 
 what Kant would call empirical knowledge — ^knowledge not 
 founded on what he denominates pure reason, but on human 
 testimony, fortified, however, in a manner that renders it 
 infinitely more certain to the great mass of human intellects 
 than the reasonings by which he would establish his axioms of 
 pure reason, and the demonstrations which he would found on 
 them ; and we apprehend that the seeking to establish a system 
 of morals, which we presume includes religion or our duty to 
 God, on any reasoning supposed to be more pure and certain 
 than the evidence on which God has been pleased to rest the 
 gospel of his grace, would tend only to weaken our faith, and 
 perhaps betray us into infidelity. 
 
 NOTE D. 
 
 Another and an astounding example of the gross absurdities 
 into which these hole-and-corner laws, the administration of 
 which is confined within the legal profession, and the gross in- 
 justice to which the public may be subjected by them, we have 
 had in the recent case of the Irish Presbyterian marriages. 
 
 Presbyterians from Scotland were introduced into Ireland 
 under the sanction of Government, and their ministers were 
 placed on the same footing with the Episcopal clergy. Wherever 
 Presbyterians were settled, they received the tithes of the 
 parishes from which the Eoman Catholic clergy had been ejected, 
 and marriages celebrated by them were accounted equally valid 
 with the marriages celebrated by the Episcopal clergy. The Act 
 of Uniformity, in the reign of Charles II., threw them out of the 
 parish emoluments ,* and, as a sort of compensation for these, a 
 grant, called the Eoyal Bounty, or “Eegium Donum,” was 
 awarded to them. The law, however, with regard to marriages 
 celebrated by them was untouched ; and they continued to cele- 
 brate marriages, chiefly, of course, among their own people, but 
 also in multitudes of instances in which one of the parties 
 belonged to the Episcopal Church, unchallenged. The Episcopal 
 clergy, however, sometimes disputed these marriages, not by 
 appealing to the law, but simply by their own private assertions. 
 At a later date (we have not the Act by us) a clause was intro- 
 duced into an Act of Parliament authorising Presbyterian mar- 
 riages under certain circumstances. This seems to have been 
 
268 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 introduced clandestinely and artfully, for the purpose of casting 
 doubt on the validity of these marriages under other circum- 
 stances. 
 
 This rendered the Presbyterian ministers anxious to know 
 the law on the subject, that they might know their own duty. 
 To our knowledge, the judge of the Prerogative Court was 
 anxiously consulted by one of the Presbyterian ministers of 
 Dublin ; but no distinct statement of the law could be obtained. 
 The minister particularly inquired by what rule or principle he 
 was to determine whether any individual was a Presbyterian 
 or not. Should he be a contributor to the expenses of the con- 
 gregation? Should he be in attendance for any given time? 
 Should he be a communicant ? The answer was to the effect 
 that there was no legal mode of entering the Presbyterian 
 Church, as there was of entering the Establishment from the 
 Church of Rome, namely, by the public ceremony of recanta- 
 tion. That, seeing the individual in his place of worship, or 
 receiving an application from him to marry him, was primd facie 
 evidence of his being a Presbyterian. We have ourselves con- 
 sulted lawyers on the subject, with no better success; and 
 some of our ministers have offered publicly to marry persons 
 belonging to the Established Church openly, before any wit- 
 nesses, that the case might be brought into the law courts, and 
 the point decided ; but the challenge was not accepted. Hun- 
 dreds of marriages were accordingly celebrated every year. The 
 legitimacy of the births of thousands of individuals depended 
 on these marriages ; the possession of a large proportion of the 
 landed estates of Ulster depended on them. The courts of law 
 had uniformly recognised them in deciding on inheritances, 
 and all other rights depending on lawful marriage. All public 
 offices, in paying pensions, annuities, &c., &e., recognised them. 
 
 After matters had proceeded thus for about two centuries, 
 some lawyer, eminent for antiquarian lore, fished up, from no 
 one knows what cesspool of mud, a document which had been 
 unheard-of from the days of the Reformation, which seemed to be 
 against marriages celebrated by any but Episcopal ministers. A 
 case of Presbyterian marriage was brought to trial, and, after 
 much learned discussion, it was found not good in law. This 
 decision was confirmed in the House of Lords ; and thus, some 
 500 ministers, men of education, who were fully capable of 
 understanding any intelligible legal document, — men honestly 
 desiring to know their duty that they might do it, were to their 
 utter astonishment, found, with their predecessors, for two 
 centuries, to have been habitually acting in violation of the law 
 without knowing it ; that thousands of the people were illegiti- 
 mately born, many of them, and their fathers before them, in 
 possession of landed and other property, to which they had no 
 legal title. Many married people began to look somewhat oddly 
 at one another, finding that, in the eye of the law, they were 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 269 
 
 living in concubinage ; and one case came within our knowledge, 
 of a man taking some initiatory steps in the direction of getting 
 rid of his wife, on the ground of this decision. An Act of Parlia- 
 ment was immediately passed legalising all past marriages cele- 
 brated by Presbyterian ministers, which was followed by another, 
 placing all Protestant marriages in Ireland under new regulations. 
 
 But let it be supposed for a moment, that these subsequent 
 Acts had not been passed — ^that some influential party in the 
 state, bigotedly opposed to Presbyterians, and rejoicing in 
 the opportunity of throwing the Presbyterian ministers and 
 people of Ireland into distress and perplexity, had successfully 
 resisted the passing of these Acts, what a source of indescribable 
 mischief would not this state of the law have proved ! That it 
 did not produce that mischief, no thanks to the legal profession, 
 but to the popular element of the constitution, which superseded 
 and annulled the blunders of the hole-and-corner proceedings of 
 the lawyers. But would it not be more wise to let in the popular 
 element into the administration of the law, by the effective 
 employment of juries, than to let the lawyers proceed with such 
 laws unchecked till they threaten some prodigious mischief, and 
 then to supersede by an act of authority the effects of their 
 blunders, or, it may be, their artifices h If a popular assembly 
 may beneficially supersede the laws, abrogate old laws, and 
 enact new ones, surely popular assemblies, under the advice of 
 lawyers, may be capable of administering the law. There is 
 nothing in the nature of those rights or wrongs of which those 
 laws take cognisance, from the administration of which all lay 
 interference is excluded, that necessarily renders them unintel- 
 ligible to educated men not lawyers. There is nothing in the 
 tenure or transference of lands, apart from the antiquated 
 theories with which the holding of land is connected, or with the 
 transmission of inheritances, or with wills or testaments, so 
 recondite as to place them beyond the intellect of men of 
 common sense, yet ignorant of the antiquities and subtleties 
 of law ; and the only effectual check upon such a tissue of 
 preposterous absurdities as the marriage law of Ireland has 
 exhibited, is to subject the whole law to the check and control 
 of the common sense of the nation by means of juries. 
 
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 OF 
 
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 COLOSSAL STATUE OP BAVARIA.” 
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16 
 
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