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diff --git a/old/55531-8.txt b/old/55531-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4285d14..0000000 --- a/old/55531-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11211 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Common Sense Applied to Religion, by Catharine E. Beecher - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Common Sense Applied to Religion - The Bible and the People - -Author: Catharine E. Beecher - -Release Date: September 12, 2017 [EBook #55531] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMMON SENSE APPLIED TO RELIGION *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chris Pinfield and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - -Transcriber's Note. - -Apparent typographical errors have been corrected; inconsistencies in -the use of hyphens have been retained. - -One "oe" ligature has been removed. - - - - - COMMON SENSE APPLIED TO RELIGION; - OR, - THE BIBLE AND THE PEOPLE. - - BY CATHARINE E. BEECHER. - - AUTHOR OF "LETTERS TO THE PEOPLE ON HEALTH AND HAPPINESS," - "PHYSIOLOGY AND CALISTHENICS," "DOMESTIC ECONOMY," - "DOMESTIC RECEIPT-BOOK," &c., &c. - - - NEW YORK: - HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, - FRANKLIN SQUARE. - - MONTREAL: BENJAMIN DAWSON. - 1857. - - -Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight -hundred and fifty-seven, by - -HARPER & BROTHERS, - -in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of -New York. - - - TO THE PEOPLE, - AS THE SAFEST AND TRUEST INTERPRETERS OF - THE BIBLE, AND - TO WOMAN, AS - THE HEAVEN-APPOINTED EDUCATOR OF MIND, - THIS WORK - Is respectfully Dedicated. - - - - -INDEX. - - - Page - - Introduction ix - - CHAP. I. The Grand Questions of Life 9 - - CHAP. II. The Principles of Reason, or Intuitive Truths 14 - - CHAP. III. Sources of Human Knowledge 29 - - CHAP. IV. Of the Knowledge gained by Human Experience in regard - to the Nature of Mind and of the System of which it is a Part 32 - - CHAP. V. Knowledge gained by Reason and Experience alone as to a - Future State 42 - - CHAP. VI. Knowledge gained by Reason and Experience alone - concerning the Existence, Character, and Designs of the Creator 47 - - CHAP. VII. Diversities in Systems of Mental Philosophy 52 - - CHAP. VIII. Classification and Description of the Mental Powers 59 - - CHAP. IX. Sensation and Perception 64 - - CHAP. X. Conception and Memory 79 - - CHAP. XI. Attention and Abstraction 83 - - CHAP. XII. Association 93 - - CHAP. XIII. Imagination 102 - - CHAP. XIV. Judgment 106 - - CHAP. XV. The Susceptibilities 109 - - CHAP. XVI. The Susceptibilities. Emotions of Taste 120 - - CHAP. XVII. The Moral Susceptibilities 139 - - CHAP. XVIII. The Will 149 - - CHAP. XIX. Faith or Belief 165 - - CHAP. XX. Constitutional Varieties of the Human Mind 175 - - CHAP. XXI. Habit 178 - - CHAP. XXII. Mind as Proof of its Creator's Designs 190 - - CHAP. XXIII. Social and Material Proofs of the Creator's - Designs 207 - - CHAP. XXIV. Right Mode of securing the Object for which - Mind was created 212 - - CHAP. XXV. Wrong Action of Mind and its Causes 220 - - CHAP. XXVI. Wrong Action of Mind and its Results in this - Life 224 - - CHAP. XXVII. Wrong Action of Mind and its Results in a Future - State 233 - - CHAP. XXVIII. Character of the Creator 245 - - CHAP. XXIX. On Perfect and Imperfect Minds 250 - - CHAP. XXX. On the probable Existence and Character of - Disembodied Spirits 258 - - CHAP. XXXI. Probabilities in regard to a Revelation from the - Creator 261 - - CHAP. XXXII. Interpretation of Language 265 - - Addenda to Vol. I. 281 - - Notes 337 - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -This work is the result of thirty years of devotion to the training of -the human mind for the great end for which it was created. Early in that -period it was felt that at the very foundation of such efforts were -opposing _theological theories_, that seemed at war with both the common -sense and the moral sense of mankind. - -In the progress of such duties, a work was prepared on _Mental and Moral -Science_, as a text-book for the institution under the care of the -writer, which was printed, but never published. After submitting this -work to the criticism of a number of the leading minds of various -schools and sects, it was found to contain so much that might result in -theological controversy, that it was deemed modest and wise to wait -until age, experience, and farther examination had lent their maturing -influence. - -After a delay of over a quarter of a century, the conviction above -stated not only remains, but has been strengthened by the discussions -and developments that have intervened in that period. - -While the great practical truths both of natural and revealed religion -have seemed constantly to be gaining a more controlling influence over -the intellect and feelings of mankind, the theological dogmas referred -to have been more and more evaded or rejected, even by those who receive -and respect the Bible as containing authentic and authoritative -revelations from God. - -At the same time, there is apparent a manifest and strong tendency, -especially among the young and most highly-educated of both sexes, to -_infidelity_; not to that species of a former age which involved a -hatred and contempt for the Bible, nor to the entire rejection of it as -a very respectable and useful collection of most interesting writings, -but to a rejection of it as a _sure and authoritative guide in faith and -morals_. - -Though there may be other assignable causes for this, it is certain that -not the least powerful is the repellency of dogmas claimed to be -contained in the Bible, which are revolting both to the intellect and to -the moral nature of man. - -Instead of being able to meet their religious teachers with the -assumption that all which they have felt to be contrary to reason, to -common sense, and to common honesty is not contained in the Sacred -Writings, many have gradually drawn off to the religion of reason and -nature, and left the Bible to theologians and the Church. - -At the same time, there has been a new development of philanthropy, in -which those who either repudiate the Bible as of any binding authority, -or disallow its commonly-accepted teachings, are as prominent and -earnest in works of benevolence as the most orthodox of any sect. To -these are added religious teachers, who set forth the morality and -benevolence demanded in the Bible as obligatory, and as satisfactorily -deducible from the light of nature, so that no revelation is needful to -make them more so. Meantime, in popular forms and by popular writers, -all the most plausible and startling difficulties that oppose the claims -of the Bible are widely disseminated, while little is done to counteract -these influences. - -Another class of religionists has also arisen, that numbers probably its -hundreds of thousands, the _Spiritualists_, who rest their faith on a -new species of so-called revelations, which ordinarily clash with the -accepted teachings of the Bible, and by vast numbers are received as of -superior authority. - -Meantime the press and public lectures are extensively supplanting the -pulpit as organs of moral and religious influence over large portions of -the community, while a large part of the most popular speakers and -writers avowedly reject the Bible as of any binding authority in -deciding moral and religious questions. - -At the same time, there has arisen a freedom of investigation, and an -aversion to all traditional or conservative bonds, such as probably -never before was so universal and dominant in this nation, especially -among those religiously educated. - -All these influences have combined to place the Bible, and the systems -of theology that claim to be educed from it, in entirely new relations. -Nothing now is safe on the ground of tradition, or of authority, or of -the reverence that belongs to age, learning, genius, or experience. -Every thing in religion, as well as other matters, is to stand on its -own claims, and not by any factitious supports. - -In this state of the public mind, the following considerations have had -influence in leading to the presentation of the views contained in this -volume. - -It is the distinctive maxim of Protestant Christianity that "every -person is to be his own interpreter of the revelations of God contained -in the Bible, responsible only to his Maker." This, of course, implies -the practicability of a proper qualification for this duty in every -individual, so that no person shall necessarily be dependent on other -minds for a correct knowledge of all that relates to his own duty and -dangers. - -It is manifest that the Creator designed that _woman_ should have the -leading position as the _educator of mind_, especially at that period -when the habits and principles of life are formed. This being so, it is -clear that it was designed that _she_ should be qualified to gain by her -own independent powers all that is revealed by God that will aid her in -this great work. - -The theological theories referred to, as seemingly opposing the moral -sense and common sense of mankind, are those that relate to the -foundation principle on which the training of mind is to start. They -involve the most practical questions of every-day life, both as to -individual responsibility and to the education of the young. - -These theories, then, are to be examined and tested by _the laity_ as -much as by theologians, and especially are they to be examined and -decided on by _woman_, as the heaven-appointed educator of infancy and -childhood. - -In this examination, these theories are to be tested, not by the -decisions of ecclesiastical bodies, nor by the writings of theologians, -but by those principles of _reason and common sense, and those laws of -language_, which guide mankind in all other practical and personal -duties. In order to this, these principles must be evolved and stated in -simple and popular form, for particular application on these questions; -for no man or woman can decide whether a thing agrees with, or is -contrary to the moral sense, or to the principles of reason and common -sense, till they clearly perceive what those principles are, and have -learned to apply them appropriately. - -The leading object of this volume is, then, to present these principles -in a popular form, and to make it apparent that they can be practically -employed by the laity in deciding what is truth, both as to the claims -of the Bible as containing authoritative revelations from the Creator, -and also as to the true interpretation of it. - -In asking the attention of the laity, including her own sex, to the -discussion of topics which have heretofore been deemed the most -difficult, recondite, and profound, it is with the full conviction that -most of the difficulties that heretofore have opposed such -investigations have belonged, not to the topics themselves, but to the -methods of discussion. - -It is believed that, though this small volume embraces most of those -points in metaphysics which have been considered the most difficult, -there is not a page that can not be perfectly comprehended by any man or -woman of only an ordinarily good education, and with less intellectual -effort than is demanded of little girls in acquiring an ability to parse -the English language. - -It is true that _close thought and attention_ are requisite for a full -appreciation of all in this volume; but not more of these are required -than the dignity and importance of the great topics involved properly -demand. - -In attempting what is here proposed, it can be seen that there are great -difficulties to be met. As a general fact, these subjects have not been -presented in popular forms, but have been confined to works of -metaphysics and theology, and there enveloped in scientific techniques -and formulas not interesting or intelligible to the common mind. For -this reason, it has been suggested that, before presenting the abstract -portion, a _practical illustration_ of the subject, embodied in the -history of the opinions of the author, as they have been formed or -modified by these principles, would have far more effect on the class of -readers for whom the work is written than the bare statement of -principles and argument, while it would certainly be more likely to be -read. - -It has been still farther urged that, in attempting to controvert -long-established theories, embodied as a part of religious truth in the -popular mind, there will be an opposition of _feeling_ to be overcome, -which needs a counterbalancing appeal to the feelings such as an -individual history can best offer. - -As to the propriety of such a measure, it is now so common to offer -autobiographies, and histories of life and opinions by living authors, -that this will be no innovation on the customs of the literary world. - -To this, a more weighty consideration should be added, and that is, that -all questions of propriety and of duty are regulated by circumstances of -risk and danger. A woman, suddenly roused from sleep to save her -children from the flames, has a very different rule of propriety in -appearing before the public from that demanded on ordinary occasions. In -this view, a believer in the risks of the _eternal loss of the soul_ -must withhold nothing, however sacred and cherished, if there is the -shadow of a probability that it will avail aught in aiding, it may be, -but one struggling, darkened mind in the death-agony of the soul. - -From these considerations, the writer has been led to prefix to the -exhibition of principles and arguments of this work, a mental history -that shall particularly illustrate the subjects discussed. The article -was prepared for certain personal and family friends, and is inserted -very nearly in its original form. - - -ILLUSTRATIVE MENTAL HISTORY. - -I wish, before publishing my forthcoming work, to obtain the views of -some of my theological friends as to certain phases of experience of my -own mind, and, to a certain extent, of other minds known to me. - -My _intellectual_ character was a singular compound of the practical and -the imaginative. In youth I had no love for study or for reading even, -excepting works of imagination. Don Quixote, the novel to which I first -had access, was nearly committed to memory, as were a few other novels -found at my grandmother's. The poets, both ancient and modern, were -always in reach, and with these materials I early formed a habit of -reverie and castle-building as my chief internal source of enjoyment. -With this was combined incessant activity in practical matters, such as, -at first, doll-dressing and baby-house building; afterward drawing, -painting, exploits of merriment, practical jokes, snow castles and -forts, summer excursions, school and family drama-acting, and the like. -Till eighteen, I never wrote any thing but a few letters and scraps of -rhyme, and the transforming of some stories into dramas for acting. A -kind teacher, who sympathized in my strong love of the comic, described -me as "the busiest of all creatures in doing nothing." - -_Socially_, I was good-natured and sympathizing, so that my jokes and -tricks were never such as to tease or annoy others. - -_Morally_, I had a strong sense of justice, but was not naturally so -conscientious as some of the other children. Add to these, persevering -energy, great self-reliance, and such cheerful hopefulness that the idea -of danger or failure never entered my head. Even to this day, perfect -success and no mischances are always anticipated till reason corrects -the calculation. - -Thus constituted, my strict religious training made little impression, -for I rarely heard any thing of that which seemed so dull and -unintelligible. Up to the age of sixteen my conceptions on this subject -were about these: that God made me and all things, and was very great, -and wise, and good; that he knew all I thought and did; that because -Adam and Eve disobeyed him _once_ only, he drove them out of Eden, and -then so arranged it that all their descendants would be born with wicked -hearts, and that, though this did not seem either just or good, it was -so; that I had such a wicked heart that I could not feel or act right in -any thing till I had a new one; that God only could give me a new heart; -that, if I died without it, I should go to a lake of fire and brimstone, -and be burned alive in it forever; that Jesus Christ was very good, and -very sorry for us, and came to earth, and suffered and died to save us -from this dreadful doom; that _revivals_ were times when God, the Holy -Spirit, gave people new hearts; that, when revivals came, it was best to -read the Bible, and pray, and go to meetings, but that at other times it -was of little use. This last was not taught, but was my own inference. - -My mind turned from all this as very disagreeable. When led by my -parents and Christian friends to it, I tried to do as they told me, -because I saw they were anxious and troubled, and I wished to relieve -them. Two or three times, when I saw my father so troubled, I took -_Doddridge's Rise and Progress of Religion_, and tried to go through the -process there laid down, but with utter failure. Meantime, I rarely -heard any prayers or sermons, and at fifteen I doubt if the whole of my -really serious thoughts and efforts would, except the above, have -occupied a whole hour. - -In the earlier periods of my religious training, my parents, in their -instructions, and also my little hymns and catechisms, made the -impression that God loved little children, and, though he was angry when -they did wrong, he was pleased when they did right; and, as parental -government was tender and loving, my impression of the feelings of the -heavenly Parent were conformed to this, my past experience. - -But when, in more mature years, I came under the influence of "revival -preaching," all this impression seemed to be reversed. I was taught to -look at God as a great "moral governor," whose chief interest was "to -sustain his law." Then there seemed to be two kinds of right and wrong, -the "common" and the "evangelical." According to this distinction, I -could not feel or do any thing that was right or acceptable _to God_ -till my birth-gift of a depraved heart was renewed by a special divine -interposition. - -Meantime, there did not seem to be any direct and practical way of -securing this supernatural interference; for it was to be the result, -not of any efforts of mine, nor were any divine promises or -encouragements offered to secure my efforts. On the contrary, the -selection of the recipients of this favor was regulated by a divine -decree of "election," without reference to any acts of a being who did -nothing but evil, and only evil, till this favor was bestowed. Moreover, -all the exhortations to effort were based simply on the fact that, -ordinarily, those who took a certain course were selected, though I -perceived that sometimes those who did the least were chosen, while -those who did the most were passed by. - -It was this view of the case that had the chief influence in leading to -an entire neglect of all religious concerns. It was so nearly like a -matter of mere chance, and there seemed so little adaptation of means to -ends, that, to one so hopeful, and, at the same time, so practical, -there was very little motive of any kind to lead to a religious life. - -The first real earnest feeling I ever had on this subject was when my -tender mother died--such a mother as earth has seldom seen; as strong in -intellect as she was modest and gentle in manners, and loving and -sympathizing in heart. She left seven children younger than myself, one -of them a babe, and I only sixteen. I really tried, for some time, to -become a Christian, till the load of grief was alleviated by time, and -then such efforts ceased; but these new responsibilities turned my -practical habits into useful channels. - -Once after this, when "a revival" seemed closing, and my father -expressed his distress for my indifference, I told him I was so happy I -could not do any thing but enjoy life, and that _nothing but trials and -sorrow_ would do me any good. Tears came into his eyes as he said, "Dear -child, must I die too?" The responsive tears came to my eyes, but soon -all was forgotten. - -At this time my theory of morals was, that to lie, steal, swear, -quarrel, disobey parents, and break the Sabbath, were sins for which I -should feel guilty; but for not becoming a Christian, when I could not -understand how to do it, never rested on my conscience as a sin, but was -felt to be simply a misfortune. And I wondered, if God desired that I -should have a new heart, and he only could give it, why he did not do -so. This was the amount of my "reasoning" so far. Till nearly twenty, I -gained little knowledge except by intercourse with intelligent people, -for still I had no love for solid reading or study. At about that age, I -remember turning over Reid's work on Mental Science, in which my mother -had been deeply interested, and wondering how people could read such -stuff. - -At twenty that betrothal took place, so soon and so tragically ended! It -was the realization of all my favorite dreams of earthly bliss. -Affection, taste, ambition, every thing most desirable to me and to -family friends, seemed secured. In a few months all was ended, and in -the most terrible and heart-rending manner. - -After the first stunning effect was over, the next feeling was, "This is -that indispensable sorrow! this is to save me from _eternal death_!" And -so, as soon as I could do any thing, I began a course of religious -reading, prayer, and mental conflict. I tried to remedy that pernicious -mental habit of reverie and castle-building; I tried to do I knew not -what in "becoming a Christian." - -Shut up in entire seclusion, all my dearest hopes forever crushed, -without hope or object in life, overwhelmed with grief, horrified less -at his dreadful death than at the awful apprehensions he himself had -imparted that he was unprepared to die, I spent week after week in -reading the stern and powerful writings of President Edwards, Dwight's -System of Theology, and other similar works. I hoped for nothing, cared -for nothing but to become a Christian. Yet no one could tell me -intelligibly how to do it, while it was clear that all expected nothing -from my efforts, and that all was dependent on a divine efflatus that -was to change the birth-gift of a depraved heart. - -And yet I was told that the fault was all my own; that it was my -obstinate _unwillingness_ to do what was required that alone made it -needful for God to interfere. This was urged as a doctrine from God, and -so, though it seemed as if I was not only willing, but that I longed for -this change, I submitted my humble intellect to His, and owned that it -must be so. So passed several dark and weary months. - -Next, I went to visit the parents of the friend I had lost. Here I read -his private records of _years_ of almost superhuman effort to govern his -mind, and to achieve the very thing I was laboring for, and yet, to his -mind, all ended in entire failure; and this, too, without any murmuring, -or any accusation of any one but himself. It was, as he maintained, -because he was so ungrateful, so hardened, so obstinately "unwilling," -so averse from God and his service. And yet he was the model of every -domestic, social, and official virtue; so reverent to God, so tender as -a son and brother, so conscientious and faithful as an instructor! In -not a single duty did he fail that the closest intimacy could discover; -and yet, by his own showing, he had no love to God, and was entirely -"unwilling" to love and serve him. - -At the same time, I found his intelligent, tender, heart-broken mother -had for years been living just such a conscientious life, without any -hope that she was a Christian, while now her pride and darling son was -lost to her forever on earth, and oh! where was he? and where should she -meet him at last? And thus she died. The only brother, too, so -conscientious and exemplary, was and long continued in the same same -position of mind. - -These revelations took away all hope of any good from any farther -efforts of mine. At this period I almost lost my reason. For some days I -thought I should go distracted. The first decided "change of mind" I now -recall was an outburst of indignation and abhorrence. I remember once -rising, as I was about to offer my usual, now hopeless prayer, with a -feeling very like this: that such a God did not deserve to be loved; -that I would not love him if I could, and I was glad I did not! It was -but momentary, and the long training of years resumed its sway. - -It was at this period that I framed my first attempt at serious argument -in a letter to my father. I took this position, that our own -_experience_ and _consciousness_ were the highest kind of evidence of -our mental power, and that I had this evidence of my mental inability to -love God as required. My father's reply was published in the _Christian -Spectator_, and was regarded as masterly and unanswerable. Its chief aim -was to lessen confidence in my own consciousness, and to show that, as -God was just and good, and certainly did require supreme love to him, we -had the power to obey. I was unable to meet the argument, and so allowed -that it must be so, and that all that was in my way was my own obstinate -"unwillingness." - -But there was another point about which I attempted to reason that I did -not give up so easily. According to the theory of "obstinate -unwillingness," there was nothing in the Bible by way of promise, or -even encouragement, for any like me. For how could God feel sympathy for -obstinate rebels, or how make promises of hope and encouragement to -those whose only difficulty was an unreasonable dislike to God and his -service? Such texts as I quoted to the contrary (as Prov. 2:1-6; Matth. -7:7; John 4:10) were not for such as I, but for those already converted; -and no prayers, even, were acceptable till offered by a renewed heart. -So it seemed impossible, in any case, to pray acceptably to God for the -greatest of all boons, redemption from the awful doom of eternal death; -for at regeneration the blessing was already given, and before that act -no prayer was acceptable. So there was no place for such a prayer. This -I never accepted, though I did not quite venture to oppose it. - -At one time my mind turned with longing and tender emotions toward Jesus -Christ. All he said and did appeared so reasonable and so kind that it -seemed to me he would hear my prayers. I brought, to sustain this idea, -the case of the young man whom "Jesus loved" when he had no religion. -Here I was met by a theory that, till now, had not attracted my notice, -which was, that there was a human soul in Christ joined to the Divine -mind, and that it was this human soul that felt this "human sympathy" -for sinners, and _bore all the suffering_, while the Deity had nothing -but calm, unmingled bliss. This made me feel that I could love the human -soul, but could not love God. Indeed, the sufferings of this innocent -Savior, _unshared by God_, was the most revolting of all. - -At the close of a long year of such darkness and suffering, I went to my -friends in Boston, where "a _revival_" was in progress, and where I met -my father. Here I received the most tender sympathy, was taken to -prayer-meetings, and every thing was said and done that piety and love -could devise for my relief, but all in vain. - -Finally, I came to this attitude of mind: "I will not try any more to -understand any thing about these doctrines. I will not try any more to -'be convinced of sin' in this inability to love God. Something is the -matter: it does not seem like obstinate 'unwillingness;' but if God says -so, I will take his word for it. I will assume that He is just, and -wise, and good, in spite of all that seems to contrary. I will try to do -all He commands the best I can. _There must be a dreadful mistake -somewhere_, but I will trust and obey, and wait quietly for light." At -this time my father gave me some little hope. I knew not why, for I did -not "love God" according to any of the ordinary tests. But I was -encouraged to hope that my heart was "renewed," and I shortly after made -a public profession of religion in my father's church. - -During my residence with the friends referred to, I attempted the duties -of a teacher to two young daughters of the family, and, to prepare -myself, for the first time set my mind to real hard study. In five weeks -I went through a large Arithmetic, of which I knew almost nothing; in -seven weeks I completed Day's Algebra. Two schoolbooks on Chemistry and -Natural Philosophy were also mastered that gloomy winter. I had no other -resource within or without for so active a mind. Then my father urged -me, for the sake of a sister, as my own pecuniary wants had been -provided for, to commence a school in Hartford. As I taught only half a -day, and "the higher branches" were but just entering female schools, I -found no difficulty in keeping sufficiently ahead of my pupils. Thus -commenced my career as a teacher. - -I went on several years with no other evidence of "love to God," which -was the main test of "regeneration," but perseverance in the -determination to assume that He was wise, just, and good, and to do all -I could to obey him. My great aim in life was to find out what He -required from the Bible, and then to try to do it as well as I could. -Besides this, I imitated the methods of Christian worthies. I kept a -religious diary--read religious books--went to religious meetings--prayed -in my school, and taught religion to my pupils as it had been taught to -me. Often, when I found suffering young minds embarrassed by my own -difficulties, willing and anxious to do all in their power, and yet -unable to feel as required, I almost lived over past anguish of spirit, -and could scarcely nerve myself to instruct them that all the wrong was -their own "obstinate unwillingness." There was a constant conflict -between the theories to which I had bowed my intellect, and thought I -really believed, and the impulses of my moral nature and common sense. - -Sometimes these questions were intolerably imperative. What evidence is -there that what God says is _true_, when He claims to be wise, and just, -and good, when He has done such contradictory things? For a single act, -done six thousand years ago, the _first_ act of disobedience too, He has -so constituted things that all the human minds that might be made right -are formed so "_depraved_" as that not one of them will ever be -"willing" to love and obey the Creator till He "_renews_" their minds. -If I were to act thus, I should think it right for every one to believe -I was cruel and unjust until I showed good reasons for it. And if I saw -any one ruining the minds of young children, or permitting Adam or any -one else to do it, when I had power to prevent it, I should say it was -right to consider him an abominable and hateful being till he showed -good reasons for such a course. - -Such thoughts were banished by the force of a strong will, and I -continued to hold on to the Bible as a revelation from God, and to His -claims as being wise, and just, and good. My renewed decision was, -"There is some _dreadful mistake somewhere_; but I will take God's word -and trust it, do the best I can, and wait till all is made clear." - -In the later periods of life, a mode of religious training has come -repeatedly under my observation, to which a brief reference will here be -made. I have known children, no more favorably endowed than myself, and -some of them less so, whose parents were no more earnest and faithful -than mine, though on a different theory. - -These children were first trained to prompt, unquestioning, and -universal obedience to their parents' commands, almost such as is -required by their Creator to his fixed and unalterable laws. At the same -time they were treated with the greatest tenderness and sympathy, and as -soon as they could understand the reasons for parental requirements, -these reasons were given, but always with the understanding that -implicit obedience must often be rendered without understanding the -reasons. When these habits of confiding and affectionate obedience were -formed, then they were taught that Jesus Christ was the Maker, Friend, -and Father of all, who loved all his children as these parents loved -their little ones, only more and better; that He created them to be -happy, rejoiced to see them so, and was always sorry for them in every -trouble. - -They were taught that there are _right_ ways and _wrong_ ways of seeking -to be happy; that Jesus Christ came into this world to teach us what are -these right and wrong ways, and that His instructions are written in the -Bible; that it is very difficult to feel and act right in all things; -that, when children _try_ to do so, the Savior is pleased with them, -and, though they see him not, is present with them to help them; that, -when they fail, and feel or act wrong, he is grieved, as their parents -are, and as ready to forgive and help them, when they too are sorry, and -continue to try to do right in all things; that _they are Christians -just so far as they succeed in obeying Christ_, and that, the more they -try, the more help they will have, and the better they will succeed. - -Thus these children grew up with the feeling that whenever they did any -thing that was kind, honest, honorable, just, and self-denying, they -were pleasing, not only their parents, but their best and ever-present -Friend. Under such a course, the varied duties of religion and of social -and domestic life were gradually not only explained, but _enforced_, -both by parental authority and example, till a character and habits were -formed that were far more consistent with the New Testament exhibitions -of Christian life than is often seen among mature Christians. - -Without at present expressing any other opinion in regard to this -method, I am strong in the belief that if this course had been pursued -with me in childhood, very different mental habits would have been the -result, and that the Christian life would have begun and progressed -probably before the severe discipline of sorrow came, and certainly -after it had been experienced. - -At the same time, there is a deep conviction that many of my young -pupils, who turned away from religion as uninviting, severe, and -unintelligible, would, by another method, have been easily led into the -true paths of pleasantness and peace. - -I wish now to exhibit the influence of one doctrine (which I claim to be -that of reason as truly as of revelation) on a mind like mine. I have -stated something of that hopeful, elastic, and happy temperament that -seemed to make sorrow so indispensable to the development of my noblest -powers. But the earthly sorrow, time and new interests would have -remedied ere youth had passed. But that awful doctrine of THE ETERNAL, -IRREMEDIABLE LOSS OF THE SOUL, so ground into my spirit by years of -effort, of which this was the mainspring, has been the grand motive -power of my whole life ever since. If I could in any way have satisfied -myself that a time would come, however distant, when all sufferers would -be repaid by eternal ages of bliss, and all the guilty, however long -their period of purgation, would at last be pure and happy _forever_, I -should have returned to life and its enjoyments with fresh zest after -such a period of privation. But I could not gain any such assurance -without the Bible, but rather the reverse; while all the life and -teachings of Christ and the Apostles seemed entirely based on the -assumption that our whole race were in awful danger, that some were to -be saved and some were to be _lost_ _forever_, and that the great end -for which Christ lived, and for which his followers are to live, is to -SAVE AS MANY AS POSSIBLE from this awful doom. - -Indeed, I could not see how any one could feel any respect for the -teachings of Christ when such terrible things were uttered by him, if -there was no just reason thus to terrify and alarm mankind. Times -without number, I went over the New Testament to see if I could find any -_honest_ way of escaping that doctrine, and always ending with a deeper -and more awful conviction of its reality. The result was, that while, -for the first year, I was driven to such mental effort and suffering to -save myself, as soon as the least hope dawned that I was safe, all that -was kindly and sympathizing in my nature led me to renewed efforts to -save others. - -After such a lesson of inability, both in my own case and that of such -dear friends, no words can express the ineffable pity, sympathy, and -almost horror with which I looked on the world around me. And when young -and happy minds, such as once was my own, came under my training, I -never felt any need of being "waked up," as some Christian people seemed -to do. It only seemed to me I could never sleep. There never has been an -hour for thirty years when a moment's consideration of this awful -doctrine would not drive away every temptation to earthly ambition, or -any longings for earthly good of any sort for myself. Many times, when, -by the presentation of such an awful theme, I have brought the young to -me with tears and willing docility, and when, to the question "What can -we do to be saved?" my shut-up heart was ready to exclaim "Nothing," I -have been so burdened and worn as to be obliged to pray to forget, and -to take every lawful mode to turn my thoughts to other less exciting -themes. It was at such times I understood for what the love of the comic -was implanted, and if all Christians should feel as I do, what might be -the legitimate use of works of fiction, the drama, and the dance. In -such a case, and properly regulated, they would be needful and only -beneficial alteratives. - -I wish now to ask my theological friends to consider the character of my -inner life. In all outward manifestations I took the theory of religion -trained into me, and did my best to believe it, and talked, and wrote, -and prayed, and acted before others on the assumption of its truth. But -my inner life was after this fashion: as to prayer in private, I found -great comfort in the preface to the Lord's prayer, "_After this manner_ -pray ye." It was a short, comprehensive prayer, which amounted to this, -that God's will might be done on earth as in heaven; that our temporal -wants might be supplied; that we might do right and escape evil. This I -could sincerely feel and pray when all _details_ distressed me. But, -still better, this prayer began, "Our _Father_." Now to me, through my -whole life, this word "father" had been associated with unparalleled -tenderness, sympathy, and love; with truth, justice, and all that was -lovable. I could not apply it to God without such associations, and so -it comforted me--and that was all. But the prayers, hymns, and sermons -conformed to the _theory_ of religion were occasions when I had to -struggle with feelings of disgust and abhorrence. Especially, at times, -was this so in reference to the _atoning_ _sacrifice of Jesus Christ_, -until I formed a curious mental habit of letting these things pass -through my mind as something I did not understand, and then there seemed -to flow in a vague impression of something better, I knew not what. - -In the progress of years I came to instruct some of the most vigorous -and active minds I ever saw, both in mental science and in the -interpretation of the Bible, and thus gradually evolved and applied "the -principles of reason and rules of interpretation" in this work. The -results will mainly appear in what follows. - -Up to this time, my feelings toward God (except sometimes when praying, -as above described) were that, as He has said he was wise, and just, and -good, I would take his word for it, in spite of all the evidence to the -contrary, and feel and act as he required as far as I had power. My -service, however, was much like that of a slave to a hard master. If -"the _fear_ of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom," I certainly began -aright. - -But the whole force of my being was turned, not toward Him, but toward -my lost, and suffering, and darkened fellow-beings. And when all my -darkness was removed, and by a simple intellectual process of -argumentation I drew from His Holy Word all my soul had longed for, my -chief joy was, not that I was safe, not that I could feel emotions of -love to Him, but that _He felt as I did_ for this all-absorbing purpose -and end of my existence--to save my fellow-men. - -Some minds seem to begin religious life with such emotions of love to -the Creator as makes it easy to carry out the purpose to obey him. In my -case, I began with the cool intellectual purpose to obey him, while it -was _love_, not to Him, but to my fellow-men, that made it easy to carry -out this purpose of obedience. But, in both cases, was it not the -_spirit of obedience_ that was the grand requisite? The _all-controlling -purpose of acting right_, by obeying all the laws of the Creator as -discovered by the light of Nature, or by His revealed Word--is not -_this_ the distinctive feature that marks the "_regenerated_" soul? - -It is theological _theories_, forced on mankind through popes, emperors, -and church councils, by pains and penalties, which has mystified that -grand question of life, "What must we do to be saved?" so that the -answer to almost every other practical question is more clear than this. -What do the great masses of men suppose that _they themselves_ are to do -if ever they become "regenerated?" Multitudes imagine that, by going to -camp-meetings, or conference meetings, or in "revivals," some Divine -efflux will come over them, of which the chief evidence is that the mind -is filled with joy, or other delightful emotions. Others deem it a -mysterious change, that takes place sometimes in sleep, without any -voluntary act of the individual. Others suppose it to consist in certain -emotions or mental acts, in reference to Jesus Christ, that come by -divine influence. Others consider it an act of the intellect and will, -of which emotions may be the preceding state, or may follow as a result. -Probably the vast majority regard it as a mysterious indescribable -event, that no one can understand till it is experienced, and which can -not be made intelligible to an "unrenewed mind." - -Thousands of excellent, conscientious persons are moving about with dark -minds and heavy hearts, who would instantly become happy and consistent -followers of Christ if these theories could be removed from their minds, -and they were sure that an earnest spirit of obedience to Jesus Christ -is what is required; to which the promises of hope and encouragement are -made; which is the highest evidence of regeneration, and the chief -feature of that "love to God" required; while all emotions, frames, and -feelings are nothing without it. Thousands of children and young -persons, religiously trained, are held back from a religious life -because it is conceived of as so mysterious, uninviting, and painful -that they can neither understand or desire it. At the same time, it is -true that, _after children have been trained wrong_, so that bad habits -of mind are dominant, the clear understanding of this subject will not, -in many cases, make it easy for them to commence a religious life, or -make it look desirable. - -The fearful sanctions of eternity can not very directly be brought to -bear on the minds of young children without great risk of entirely false -impressions. We see, in the Old Testament, that when God was training _a -race_, in the infancy of its development He made visible appearances, -used temporal motives, and made no appeals to the sanctions of the -invisible world. Like the parents just referred to, his first aim seemed -to be to teach _habits of obedience_ to God's temporal laws, while, at -the same time, He displayed his sympathy, mercy, and love. And among his -ancient people men became his obedient children by just such training as -is now best fitted to young children. - -But when the race was farther advanced, so as to be able to act more by -reason and on _general principles_, and when His religion, by new -motives and forces, was to be extended from one nation to all the world, -_then the Creator came himself_; and while disclosing those most -terrific sanctions of the invisible world, at the same time exhibited -such a manifestation of His pity, sympathy, and _self-sacrificing love_ -as renders these terrors safe and effective in such a conjuncture, as -they would not be without. - -With these two classes of motives thus intensified, such a moral power -has been generated, leading to self-denying efforts to educate and save -mankind, as never existed before. In the case of the writer, the power -of these terrible sanctions _alone_ has been illustrated. In other -cases, the power of Christ's love and example have been the leading -motives. It is the _union of both_, clearly appreciated, and especially -brought to bear on those who form the character of childhood and youth, -that eventually is to renew the whole race, and bring every human being -to perfect obedience to _all_ the laws of the Creator. - - * * * * * - -In the investigation which originated at the time the writer commenced -teaching mental philosophy in connection with the Bible, this was the -first point to which attention was led, "What is that '_reason_' or -'_common sense_' which is so often appealed to as the umpire in -religion, morals, and interpretation?" All the works of mental science -within reach were examined, but it was long before any clear conceptions -on this question were gained, and still longer before any _test_ was -evolved that seemed a _practical_ one, as it is presented in this work. -Not that these principles and the test are not indicated by -metaphysicians in various forms of language, but that there is such a -confusing variety of expression, and all is so presented as a -_speculative_ instead of a _practical_ question, that years elapsed -before that use of these principles which this work illustrates was -attained. - -This is here referred to in explanation of future passages that -otherwise might seem to imply that the author assumes to have discovered -something not before known or recognized by metaphysicians. The very -writings of Dr. Reid, which, in early life, were turned over with wonder -that any one could be interested in them, probably contain the most -complete and clear exhibition of these principles, and also recognize -the _test_ by which they are to be established. The writings of Sir -William Hamilton exhibit other, but less practical tests of these -principles. - -Until the printing of this volume was nearly complete, it was the plan -of the author to have the whole work issued at once; and, with reference -to this whole, its title was THE BIBLE AND THE PEOPLE, OR COMMON SENSE -APPLIED TO RELIGION. But, after submitting this portion of the work to -criticism, it was concluded to issue only one volume, and to wait until -it was seen what reception the _principles_ it offered would meet. In -consequence of this, it seemed proper to transpose the title, as the -latter portion of it best describes the contents of the first volume. -This accounts for what is unusual in paging and in the running title on -the left-hand pages. - - - - -THE - -BIBLE AND THE PEOPLE. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE GRAND QUESTIONS OF LIFE. - - -We are now living through the period of demolition. In morals, in social -life, in politics, in medicine, and in religion, there is a universal -upturning of foundations. - -But the day of reconstruction seems to be looming in the orient, and now -the grand question is, Are there any sure and universal principles that -will evolve a harmonious system in which all shall agree? Or, is the -only unity to be anticipated that which results from the unsatisfactory -conclusion that all must "agree to disagree?" - -The first alternative is believed to be in our future; and it is hoped -that this volume will contribute something toward evolving such -principles of reconstruction. - -In some happily constituted minds and singularly favorable -circumstances, the passages of this life are almost uniformly happy, and -no clouds ever shut out the sunshine of a cheerful existence. - -But, as a general rule, the farther we advance in life, the more solemn -become our convictions that its experiences are stormy, sad, -disappointing, and unsatisfactory. And the nobler the mind and the more -exalted its aspirations, the more surely are these lessons read and -understood. - -If we turn aside from the lower haunts of poverty, vice, and crime, and -look only at the more favored classes, we find men toiling for years and -years to build up schemes which, in some sudden shock, crumble and pass -away; or, are their high hopes accomplished, some bitter ingredient -mingles with the cup of success, that turns it to gall. - -And so, in heart-histories, the tenderest ties are formed, as it would -seem, only to be wrenched and torn. The young heart gives its fresh -impassioned love to its appropriate object, and, just at the happy -consummation, death or desertion forever ends life's brightest -experience. - -The young parents receive their first-born with untold rapture, and then -some disease or accident turns it to a hopeless idiot or ceaseless -sufferer. - -The young husband lays at once his first love and his first born in the -same grave. The tender parents spend years and years of care and effort -to rear a darling child, and at the culmination of their hopes the -flower is cut down. - -Business or misfortune severs those whose chief happiness would be to -live together. The long-tried friends of early life are thrown into -painful antagonisms that end their friendship. The conflicts of interest -and party develop conduct and character that shatter confidence in men -and tempt to misanthropy. - -In short, there are seasons when a thoughtful and tender spirit is -tempted to feel as if some malignant power were commissioned to seek out -all that is most beautiful, harmonious, and delightful in the experience -of our race, only to imbitter, confound, and destroy. - -And even where the experience of life has been the most favorable, as -its closing years come on early friends pass away, the capacities and -resources of enjoyment diminish, and the dim cloud that shrouds the -closing vista awakens solemn and anxious meditations on the untried and -silent future. Such experiences bring forth the heart-yearning questions -that come, as it were, from the united voice of sad and suffering -humanity: - -"Is there a God that controls the destinies of man? If so, what are his -character and designs? Is this sad life our only portion, or shall we -live beyond the grave? If there is another life before us, what -influence has our conduct and character here on its solemn destinies? - -Are we left to our own unaided faculties to reason out from the nature -of things around us the replies to these momentous questions, or has the -Author of our being given some direct revelation to guide us? - -If such a revelation exists, is it made accessible to all, or must one -portion of our race necessarily depend on fallible and interested -interpreters? - -Does this revelation agree with reason and experience, and does it -contain all that we need both for safe guidance and for peace of mind?" - -It is believed that, in the following pages, it will be seen that every -mind, of even only ordinary capacity, is furnished with the means of -answering all these questions, and with as much certainty as appertains -to the ordinary practical questions of this life. - -At the same time, it will appear that most of the difficulties and -diversities of opinions in religious matters have mainly resulted from -neglecting these means of obtaining truth and peace, and that the "good -times coming" are all depending on the proper use of these means. - -As introductory to the first main topic, it is important to refer to the -fact that, in all languages, man is recognized as possessing what is -called _reason_. He is called a _reasonable_ being and a _reasoning_ -being, and it is claimed that it is his reason that places him at the -head of creation in this world. - -Again, in discussions on truth and duty, all men seem to agree that -there is such a thing as _reason_, and that it is, more or less, to be -made the umpire in settling all disputed points. It is true that very -few seem to have a clear and definite idea of what this reason is, or -how it is to be made an umpire. But all allow that there is such a -thing, and that it has a very important office in deciding questions of -truth and duty. - -Then, again, among more scientific men, we hear constant reference made -to our "intuitions" and our "intuitive knowledge," as if there were some -fixed truths which are superior to all others. It is true, that when we -come to inquire specifically as to what are these intuitions, we often -find them to be acquired notions, and sometimes such as are unsupported -by any evidence, or even contrary to the best kind of evidence. -Nevertheless, those who use these terms all agree in the fact that there -are "intuitions" and "intuitive knowledge," which are superior to any -other kinds of knowledge, and involve a certainty of conviction which no -reasoning can overthrow. - -Then, as we advance still higher in the world of letters, we find -metaphysicians and philosophers assuming that a belief in certain truths -is implanted in all rational minds by the Creator as a necessary part of -their constitution, and that these truths are the foundation of most of -our acquired knowledge. The truths or principles of mind thus recognized -are called by various names, such as _reason_, the _principles of -reason_, the _primary truths_, the _intuitions_, the _intuitive truths_, -the _fundamental truths_, the _principles of common sense_, the -_categories_, etc. - -The grand difficulty on this subject has been, that while all agree in -the existence of such implanted truths, there has never been any _test_ -for deciding which are these truths, in distinction from our acquired -notions. - -It is the object of the succeeding chapter to present the most important -of these truths, and also to set forth an infallible test by which they -may be distinguished from every other kind of knowledge. - -And this attempt is made with a full conviction that success in such an -effort is to be the foundation of that harmony of reconstruction which -has been indicated as provided for the future. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -PRINCIPLES OF REASON, OR INTUITIVE TRUTHS. - - -It is maintained that the Author of mind has implanted, as a part of its -constitution, the belief in certain truths, so that it is impossible to -disbelieve them without losing that which distinguishes man as a -rational being. - -It is also assumed that there is an _infallible test_, by which we can -distinguish these truths from all those acquired notions which men often -falsely call intuitions, or principles of reason, etc. - -Before proceeding, it will be premised that the attempt will not be to -set forth _all_ those truths that may properly be called intuitive, but -it will be limited to those which are immediately connected with the -subjects to be discussed. - -To proceed, then, the first principle of reason, or intuitive truth, is -that by which we arrive at the idea of a great _First Cause, who was -without a beginning_. In briefest form, this truth is usually thus -expressed: - -EVERY CHANGE HAS A CAUSE. - -The position here maintained is that the human mind is so made that, -whenever any kind of change (or effect) takes place, there inevitably -follows a belief that there is some antecedent which is _the cause_ of -this change, or, in other words, that there is _something that produced -this change_. - -Now the question is not how this conviction first finds entrance to the -mind, nor whether it is consequent on experience. - -It is simply a question of fact. Men always do, whenever they see any -new form of existence, or any change take place, believe that there is -some antecedent cause that produced this change. - -Moreover, if a man should be found who was destitute of this belief, so -that in his daily pursuits he assumed that things would spring into -existence without any cause, and that there were no causes of any kind -that produced the changes around him, he would be pronounced insane--a -man who had "lost his reason." - -Here, then, we have an example of an intuitive truth, and also an -illustration of the _test_ by which we are to distinguish such truths -from all others, viz.: - -_Any truth is a principle of reason, or an intuitive truth, when all men -talk and act as if they believed it in the practical affairs of life, -and when talking and acting as if it were not believed, would -universally be regarded as evidence that a man had "lost his reason."_ - -It will now be shown how a belief in this truth involves a belief in -some great First Cause who himself had no beginning. - -The atheist says thus: Somewhere, far back in other ages, there were no -existences at all, either of matter or mind; but at a given period, -without any cause at all, the vast and wonderful contrivances of matter -and mind began to exist. - -The first reply to this is, that it is an assertion without evidence, -either intuitive or otherwise. No being ever was known to testify of -such an event, and there is no proof of it of any kind. - -Next, it is replied that placing such an event at distant ages does not -render it any more credible than the assertion that worlds and -intelligent beings are coming into existence at the present time without -any cause. God has so constituted our minds that we can not believe that -any curious and wonderful contrivance springs into being without a -cause, either now or at any past period of time. - -If the atheist, in the common affairs of life, should talk and act as if -he believed there were no causes for all the existences and changes -around him, he would be regarded as having "lost his reason." And thus -Holy Writ sanctions the decision: "The fool hath said in his heart, -There is no God." - -We find, then, that our minds are made so that we can not help believing -that whatever begins to be has an antecedent cause that produces it, and -every change in any kind of existence has a cause. We find, also, the -universe around us to be a succession of changes, and these we trace -back and back again to antecedent causes. - -But at last we come to the grand question, "Who first started this vast -system of endless and wonderful contrivances?" - -Only two replies are possible. The first is that of the atheist, that -the whole started into existence without a cause, which we have shown -that no sane mind can really believe. - -The only remaining reply is, there is _some great_ _self-existent Cause, -who never began to be, and who is the author of the universe of matter -and mind_.[1] - -It must, however, be conceded that this intuitive truth does not aid us -in deciding what is the nature and character of this First Cause. We are -obliged to resort to other intuitive truths to settle this question. - -Neither does this principle aid us in deciding whether there may not be -_more than one_ self-existent cause; for several minds can be supposed -to have united in will and action to bring forth this "universal frame," -each one of which might have existed without beginning. - -The second intuitive truth is this: - -TWO CLASSES OF CAUSES EXIST, VIZ., MATERIAL THINGS, WHICH ACT ON MIND, -AND IMMATERIAL OR SPIRITUAL THINGS, WHICH ACT ON MATTER. - -Some metaphysicians maintain that every thing is matter, and that mind -or spirit is only one particular species of matter. Others teach that -every thing is mind, and that all which we suppose to be material things -are merely ideas in the mind of what really has no existence. - -Now we have no mode of proving that we have a soul or that we have a -body, or that there are any real things existing around us. But God has -so formed our minds that we can not help believing that our minds are -distinct from matter, and that they are causes of changes in our body -and in the things around us. Nor can we help believing that we have -bodies, and that the things around us are realities. And no man could -talk or act, in practical matters, with a contrary belief, without being -regarded as having "lost his reason." - -The third intuitive truth is, that THE MIND OF MAN IS A FREE AGENT. - -By this is signified that mind is an independent cause of its own -volitions, and capable, in appropriate circumstances, of choosing in -_either_ of two or more ways, not being, like matter, forced to a fixed -and necessary mode of action. - -Some changes in mind are necessary effects produced by causes out of the -mind. And some mental action is the necessary result of its -constitution, and can not be otherwise. But _choice_ or _volition_ is an -act of the mind itself, when it has power to choose in either of two or -more ways without any change of circumstances. - -The fatalist denies this, and maintains that choice is a necessary act, -the same as the changes in matter, and that at each act of choice the -mind had no power to choose otherwise than as it does choose. - -In reply to this, nothing is needed but to show that all men believe, -and show it by their words and actions, that they always have power to -choose more ways than one. And after they have chosen a particular way, -they still believe that they had the power to have chosen another way. -And though metaphysicians may deny this in words, if any one of them, in -practical every-day life, should talk and act as if he believed that he -had no power to choose otherwise than as he does, he would be regarded -as having "lost his reason." - -This subject has often been so treated as to embarrass some of the most -acute minds. Yet the ordinary mind is as perfectly qualified to settle -this question as the most astute philosopher. Do men believe that they -have no power to choose any other way than as they do choose? Do they -talk and act in common life as if they believed it? Would not a man who -talked and acted on the assumption that he had no power to choose -otherwise than as he does choose be regarded as having "lost his -reason?" - -All men of common sense must answer these questions alike, and thus -decide that this is one of the intuitive truths. - -The fourth intuitive truth is, that DESIGN IS EVIDENCE OF AN INTELLIGENT -CAUSE, AND THE NATURE OF A DESIGN PROVES THE INTENTION AND CHARACTER OF -THE AUTHOR. - -It is by the aid of this principle of reason that we gain a knowledge of -the character and designs of our Creator. All minds are so constituted -that when they find a contrivance fitted to accomplish some end, they -can not help believing that the author of it is an _intelligent_ cause, -and that he _intended_ to secure that end. - -This position is finely illustrated by Paley. He describes a savage -finding a watch in a desert, who is made to comprehend all its curious -contrivances for marking time. This savage, he claims, would inevitably -conclude that some intelligent person made the watch, and that it was -his design to have it keep time. - -In like manner, should the residence of a person be inspected, and be -found filled with contrivances for producing mischief and for torturing -men and animals, the result would be a belief that the author of these -things was cruel and malignant. On the other hand, were these -contrivances calculated to produce only comfort and happiness, the -inevitable belief would follow that the contriver was benevolent. - -Again, if these designs were found to involve powerful and magnificent -results, the immediate belief would follow that the author was wise and -powerful as well as benevolent. - -This illustrates the method by which this implanted principle of reason -enables us to learn the design and character of the Author of the -universe by the works of creation. - -The fifth intuitive truth is, that NO RATIONAL MIND WILL CHOOSE EVIL -WITHOUT ANY HOPE OF COMPENSATING GOOD. - -The fact that any person was seeking pain and evil without hope of -compensating good would prove to all that "reason was lost." No sane -mind ever acts thus. - -It is by the aid of this intuitive truth that we rely on human -testimony. The surest mode of establishing the reliability of a witness -is to show that by false testimony he would knowingly incur evil and -gain no good. In such circumstances no one would believe that a witness -would be false. - -The sixth intuitive truth is, that THINGS WILL CONTINUE AS THEY ARE AND -HAVE BEEN TILL THERE IS EVIDENCE OF A CHANGE OR OF A CAUSE FOR A CHANGE. - -All the business of this life rests on a belief in this implanted truth, -and equally so do our inferences in regard to the immortality of the -soul and a future state. - -The belief that the sun will continue to rise, or that the seasons will -return, rests solely on the fact that these events have been uniform in -past time, and that we know of no cause for a change from this -uniformity. And were any person to talk and act as if destitute of this -belief, he would be deemed insane. - -Bishop Butler's celebrated argument on the immortality of the soul is -founded entirely on this principle. It is briefly this: - -Things will continue as they are and have been unless there is some -evidence of some change or cause for a change. At death the soul exists. -The dissolution of the body is no evidence of the destruction of the -soul, and there is no kind of evidence that it is destroyed. Therefore -we infer that the soul continues to exist after the dissolution of the -body. - -The main point in this argument is to show that there is no evidence -that the act of death involves the destruction of the soul. If this can -be established, then the belief must follow that the soul exists after -death. By the same method Butler establishes several other doctrines of -the Bible. - -It is by the aid of this principle that what are called the laws of -nature are established. By means of human testimony we learn what has -been the uniform course of nature. And then men conclude that what has -been will continue to be until some new cause intervenes to change this -uniformity. - -The seventh intuitive truth is, that the NEEDLESS DESTRUCTION OF -HAPPINESS OR INFLICTION OF PAIN IS WRONG, and THAT WHATEVER TENDS TO -PRODUCE THE MOST HAPPINESS IS RIGHT. - -The terms right and wrong, as used by mankind, always have reference to -some _plan_ or _design_. Any thing is called right when it fulfills the -design for which it is made, and it is called wrong when it does not. -Thus a watch is right when it fulfills its design in keeping time. A -compass is right when it points to the north. And so of all -contrivances. - -Of course, then, the question as to the right and wrong action of mind -involves a reference to the _object_ or _design_ of the Author of mind. -At this time it will be assumed (the proof being reserved for future -pages) that the design or object for which God made mind was _to produce -the greatest possible happiness with the least possible evil_. - -It is also assumed, without here exhibiting the proof, that the -impression of this design is so inwrought into the mental constitution -that whatever is perceived to be destructive to happiness is felt to be -_wrong_--that is, _unfitted_ to the design of the Author of all things, -which the mind _feels_ often when it can not logically set forth the -reason. So, also, whatever is seen to promote the greatest amount of -happiness is felt to be right. - -The mind is so constituted that, without any act of reasoning as to the -tendencies of things, there are certain feelings and actions that the -mind turns from as _unfit_ and to be abhorred. - -Thus, when plighted faith is violated, or a great benefactor treated -with cruelty and indignity by those he has benefited, a feeling of -unfitness and abhorrence is awakened, independent of all considerations -of the tendency of such conduct to destroy happiness. - -In like manner, there are certain acts of gratitude and benevolence that -always awaken approval and admiration as suitable and right, without any -reference to future tendencies or results. - -At the same time, it is true that when, by a process of reasoning, it is -seen that the _tendency_ of any course of conduct is to diminish -happiness or inflict evil without compensating good, there arises the -same feeling of disapproval of it as wrong, and unfitted to the end for -which all things are made. This is often the case when there is no -definite, distinct idea of what the great design of the Creator may be. - -This belief and feeling of unfitness and wrongfulness is common to all -sane minds. It is true that there are different views of what actions -are destructive to happiness, but when there is a clear perception that -a given act will do great harm and no good, every mind will feel that it -is wrong; and when it is seen that any act will do good without any -evil, it is felt to be right. And this is so universal, that if any one -should be found to talk and act with a contrary belief, he would be -regarded as having lost a part of that which constitutes him a rational -being. - -The eighth intuitive truth is, that THE EVIDENCE OF OUR SENSES IS -RELIABLE. - -This statement needs some qualification. It often requires time to learn -accurately what our senses do testify, and sometimes the apparent -experience of the senses proves incorrect. For example, to one just -restored to sight, every object seems to touch the eye, and distances -are learned only by experience. So the sun and stars seem to move, when -it is the earth that is turning. So, also, the senses are sometimes -diseased or disordered, and make false reports. - -The true meaning, then, of the above intuitive truth is, that when men -know that they have had all requisite experience, and understand -properly all the circumstances of the case, they can not help believing -the evidence of their senses, and when this belief is lost, a person is -regarded as insane. - -The ninth intuitive truth is, that WHENEVER THERE IS A CHANGE IN THE -ESTABLISHED ORDER OF NATURE SURPASSING HUMAN POWER, IT IS EVIDENCE OF A -SUPERNATURAL AGENCY THAT IS SANCTIONED BY THE AUTHOR OF THE LAWS OF -NATURE. - -The conviction of the wisdom and power of the Author of this vast and -wonderful frame around us is such that whatever changes may occur in its -established order must be felt to be by his permission. - -To illustrate this, suppose a man appeared claiming to be a teacher sent -from God. In proof of this, he commands a mountain to be uptorn and -thrown into the sea. Now, if this phenomenon should follow his command, -it would be impossible for any who witnessed it to refrain from -believing that the Author of Nature performed this miracle to attest the -authority of his messenger. - -In order to insure this belief in the interference of Deity, there must -be full evidence that there can be no deception, and that the miraculous -performance is entirely beyond human power and skill. Men always talk -and act on the assumption that _such_ miracles are from God, and that -all rational minds so regard them. - -The tenth intuitive truth is, that IN ALL PRACTICAL CONCERNS WE ARE TO -CONSIDER THAT COURSE RIGHT WHICH HAS THE BALANCE OF EVIDENCE IN ITS -FAVOR. - -There are few practical questions where we can have perfect certainty as -to the right course. In almost all the concerns of life men are guided -by _probabilities_. It is not certain that seed will spring up, or that -a ship will return, or that a given medicine will cure, or that any -future project will succeed; but men go forward in their pursuits with -exactly the same decision as if the probabilities that guide them were -certainties. They find which course has _the most_ evidence in its -favor, and then act as if it was certain that this was the right course -to attain their designs. - -And if any person should habitually act as if he believed the reverse, -he would be regarded as having lost his reason. - -The eleventh intuitive truth is, that NOTHING IS TO BE ASSUMED AS TRUE -UNLESS THERE IS SOME EVIDENCE THAT IT IS SO. - -This principle is always assumed in all practical affairs. If a man were -to send a cargo abroad without _any_ evidence that it was wanted, he -would be called a fool; and so in all other concerns, every sane man -takes this for his rule of conduct. - -The preceding include the principles which it is believed are the grand -foundation on which rest most of the practical knowledge of life, as -well as the doctrines and duties both of natural and revealed religion. - -There are some other intuitive truths which are not introduced here, and -there are some principles that others have placed in this honorable -position which could not stand the _test_ here introduced, and claimed -to be the only true and reliable one. - -The intuitive truths have been called "fundamental truths," because they -are the ultimate basis of all knowledge secured or established by the -process of _reasoning_. - -This process consists in assuming a certain proposition to be true as -the _basis_ of an argument. If this proposition is granted, or supposed -to be granted, then the reasoner proceeds to show that the point in -dispute is in reality _included_ in the truth already granted, so that -believing the first proposition, or basis, necessarily involves a belief -in the one to be proved. - -For example, if a man wishes to prove that a certain person is a -benevolent man, he proceeds thus: - -Let it be granted that all persons who are habitually contriving and -laboring to promote the happiness of all around them are benevolent -persons. This basis proposition being conceded to be true, the reasoner -proceeds to present evidence that the person in question habitually is -laboring for the good of others. This being done, he draws the -conclusion that this person is _included_ in the class which have been -granted to be benevolent. - -_Reasoning_, then, is a process for exhibiting evidence that a point -which is disputed is included in a proposition already believed and -allowed. - -But suppose the disputant denies the truth of the basis or foundation -proposition, then it becomes necessary to establish that proposition by -another act of reasoning. In order to do this, still another proposition -is assumed which is allowed to be true, and which the reasoner then -attempts to show includes his former basis proposition. - -This process may thus be continued till, finally, it comes to pass that -the basis proposition assumed is an intuitive truth. In this case the -victory is secure; for whatever can be shown to be embraced in an -intuitive truth must be conceded to be true, and whatever is -contradictory to an intuitive truth must be allowed to be false. - -Now it can be shown that all the reliable practical knowledge of this -life can be thus traced back till it is seen to rest on some intuitive -truth as its basis. - -So, also, all the doctrines and duties, both of natural and revealed -religion, can be shown to rest on these intuitive truths. This indicates -the propriety of the name given to these first principles as _principles -of reason_ and _fundamental truths_. - -Here, then, is presented the foundation of the hope so confidently -expressed, that a time is coming when, in all the great questions which -now agitate humanity with doubts, discussions, and conflict, there shall -result universal harmony and unity of opinion. If such intuitive -principles are implanted in all human minds; if there is a _certain -test_ by which these principles can be eliminated and established; and -if, by a sure process of reasoning, every correct practical and -religious opinion can be shown to rest on these principles, and every -false one to contradict them, then we can plainly perceive the true path -to this golden age. - -It is to cultivate the powers of the human intellect, to train every -mind, from early life, to detect the true laws of reason, and to -practice accurately the process of reasoning. Not that this alone will -suffice without the attending cultivation of the moral powers, and the -promised blessing of heavenly aid. But the first would powerfully tend -to secure the second, and then the third would inevitably be bestowed. - -Before proceeding farther, it is desirable to recognize the fact that -the word _reason_ is used in several ways. Sometimes it signifies simply -the intuitive truths. Sometimes it includes all those principles and -powers of mind which are employed in the act of reasoning. Sometimes it -refers to the intellect in distinction from the feelings. In all cases, -however, the connection will determine in which of these uses it is -employed. - -[1] Note A. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. - - -We have seen that there are certain intuitive truths, the belief of -which is implanted as a part of our mental constitution, and that there -is a _test_ by which we can distinguish them from all other kinds of -knowledge. - -We have seen, also, that we are dependent on these truths for a large -portion of our acquired knowledge, inasmuch as they are the basis of -_reasoning_, which is that process by which we gain new truths by the -aid of those already believed. - -It has been intimated, also, that it is chiefly by the aid of these -principles that a harmonious system of truth is to be anticipated, in -which all minds will eventually agree, at least in all great questions -involving the eternal interests of our race. - -We will now proceed in an inquiry as to what are _the sources of human -knowledge_ in addition to these first implanted truths. - -In the first place, then, we have our own personal experience of the -nature and action of our own minds, and of the qualities and powers of -the persons and things around us. Next we have the experience of other -minds as to their own mental history and the properties and powers of -all that has surrounded them. This knowledge is communicated by them to -us either directly by word of mouth, or indirectly by writings and -books. - -The experience of a single mind is very limited both as to space and -time, and it is only by the united experience of many persons, in -different periods and places, that we arrive at what are called the laws -of nature and experience. The laws of day and night, summer and winter, -the tides, and all the other phenomena of nature, are simply a uniform -succession and regularity of events, from which men infer a future -regularity of the same experience. Much of this knowledge of past -uniformity is transmitted from others to us, and rests on our confidence -in human testimony, and it has been shown that this confidence is based -on one of the intuitive truths. - -Next, we have the knowledge gained by the process of reasoning, and for -this we are dependent on the intuitive truths which are the foundation -of all reliable deductions. - -Lastly, we have the resource of _revelations_ from the Creator of all, -who can communicate to us knowledge that we can not gain either by -intuition, or experience, or reasoning. - -In regard to the kinds of knowledge to be gained from each of these -sources, it is clear that the experience of ourselves and others -furnishes us with nothing but facts, as it regards matter and mind, as -they are developed in _this_ world only. As it respects the Creator, his -character and designs, the immortality of the soul, and the future -destiny of our race, we gain nothing by our own personal observation or -experience. "No man hath seen God at any time." No one has gone to "the -silent land" to learn by inspection the secrets of that dim shore, or -the destiny of the soul when it passes from earth. - -Neither have we any resource in the experience of others who can go to -the invisible world and transmit to us the knowledge there gained. There -is not a man upon earth that can furnish any reliable information on -these subjects from any personal knowledge. - -It becomes, then, a most interesting inquiry as to the amount and kind -of knowledge to be gained by means of the intuitive truths, experience, -and reasoning, independently of revelation. In what follows this inquiry -will be pursued. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - OF THE KNOWLEDGE GAINED BY HUMAN EXPERIENCE - IN REGARD TO THE NATURE OF MIND AND THE LAWS - OF THE SYSTEM OF WHICH IT IS A PART. - - -We have seen that there are only these sources of human knowledge, viz., -the _intuitive truths_, _human experience_, _reasoning_, and -_revelation_. We have alluded to the nature of intuitive knowledge; we -will now inquire as to the nature of the knowledge gained by human -experience, firstly, in regard to the _constitution of mind and the laws -of that system in which it is placed_. We restrict our inquiries to -those points which have the most direct bearing on the great questions -to be discussed. - -As it respects the nature of mind, then, as exhibited by experience, we -learn, in the first place, that it is constituted with desires and -propensities for various kinds of enjoyment. These are the -gratifications secured by the senses, the pleasures of taste, the -happiness of giving and receiving affection, the various intellectual -pleasures, and the still higher enjoyment resulting from our moral -nature. All these are common to the race, though in varied degrees and -combinations. The mind is also constituted with susceptibilities to pain -and suffering from all the sources from which enjoyment may spring. - -With these susceptibilities are combined an all-pervading and constant -_desire_ to gain enjoyment and to escape suffering. This desire is the -grand _motive_ power to the mind, as the main-spring is to a watch. For -this reason, awakened desires to gain any particular enjoyment or escape -any pain are called _motives_. And so, also, all those things that cause -these desires are called motives. - -Next, it is seen that the mind is endowed with intellect, or the -intellectual powers, by which it can perceive the nature and relative -value of various kinds of enjoyment, compare the present with the -future, and judge both of what is most valuable and of the proper modes -of securing it. - -To this add the power of choice or volition, by which, in view of any -two or more kinds of enjoyment, the mind decides which shall be secured -and which be denied. - -Thus constituted, the mind comes into action in a _system of law_. - -By this is signified that in every direction in which man can seek -enjoyment there is a right course, or one that secures the good sought -in such proper degrees and at such times as that the enjoyment designed -is the result. At the same time there is a wrong course, or one in which -the enjoyment sought is not secured, or, if gained, is combined with -pain and disappointment. - -Thus there are right and wrong modes of seeking all the multiplied kinds -of enjoyment, while to the right course is attached the reward of -pleasure, and with the wrong course is connected the penalty of pain, -either immediate or remote. - -Again, our minds come into existence in a _social_ _system_ so -constituted that the rewards and penalties of law extend, not merely to -the good and evil doer, but to those connected with him. Thus each mind -is made dependent for happiness on the well-doing of those around almost -as much as on its own obedience to law. The penalties for the sins of -parents fall on their children, and the sins of children are visited on -their parents, and thus in all the other relations of life. Equally so -are the rewards of obedience shared by all who are connected with the -well-doer. - -Thus it appears that in this life _happiness_ is the joint product of -the obedience of each individual and the obedience of all connected with -him to the laws of the vast system in which we are placed. - -Again, each mind comes into this system of law in perfect ignorance of -the right and wrong courses to be pursued. At the commencement of being -there has been no knowledge of good or of evil to call forth desire or -fear, while the only conceivable way in which such a being can be taught -law, and its penalties and rewards, is by _experience_. Good must be -tasted before the desire for it can come, and evil must be felt before -the fear of it can arise. - -After there has been some experience of pleasure and pain, and such -advance in knowledge as that others around can teach the new-comer what -are the right and wrong courses, then _faith_ or _belief_ becomes the -leading mode of safety. From this time happiness or suffering will be -proportioned to the _truth_ of the instructions given, to the _faith_ -accorded, and to the _obedience_ rendered. - -In this complicated system of law, it is found that the great Author of -all is never moved to modify or suspend the penalties of wrong-doing by -commiseration for the inevitable ignorance of inexperienced beings, nor -by pity when wrong instructions are given, nor by sympathy for the pain -inflicted. _Obedience_, exact, constant, persevering--this is the only -mode of securing the enjoyment and escaping the pain that are the -sanctions of law. - -And not only so, but it is often the case that disobedience to some law -in only one instance will destroy the comfort and usefulness of a whole -life. Nay, more, the neglect or the mistake of a parent sometimes will -bring the penalty of violated law on some innocent child, whose whole -life will thus be made miserable. - -Again, it is found that the sources of enjoyment are of different -relative value. - -In the commencement of existence pleasure is secured mainly through the -senses. Next come the higher social and domestic pleasures; then follow -the intellectual enjoyments, the various gratifications of taste, and -all the multitudinous resources open to a highly-cultivated, virtuous, -and religious man. - -The greater the number of these sources, and the more elevated the -nature of each, the greater the degree of happiness gained. - -Such, also, is the nature of things, that the lower kinds of happiness -are placed first within our reach, and then, as the higher modes of -enjoyment come, we often find them incompatible with the others, so that -to obtain these we must, to some extent, relinquish the humbler classes. -Thus, when a child begins to find the value of intellectual attainments, -he sees they can not be gained without a sacrifice of many indulgences -that are of an inferior value. - -We now come to the _grand law_ of the system in which we are placed, as -it has been developed by the experience of our race, and that, in one -word, is - -SACRIFICE! - -Each mind finds that it has conflicting desires, so that one class must -constantly be sacrificed to another of superior value. And the rule in -reference to individual enjoyment is "_always to sacrifice the lesser -for the greater good, having reference to the future as much as to the -present_." - -This is the lesson of self-denial and self-control first taught to -infancy and childhood, and just as fast as the reasoning powers are -developed, the extent of this far-reaching rule is impressed on the -mind. At first this rule is applied to the young child himself, and he -is trained chiefly to understand what will injure or benefit himself. - -But gradually a new and higher law begins to appear. As soon as the -child can be made to understand that he is surrounded by other minds, -who can suffer and enjoy by the same rules that regulate his happiness, -he begins to learn the other and still higher law of _sacrifice_; and -that is, that "_the lesser good of the individual is always to be -sacrificed to the greater good of the many, having reference always to -the future as much as to the present_." - -Thus life commences with desires that are to be _controlled_ and -_denied_, first by parental power and influence, and next by the -intellect and will of the child. And the farther life advances, the more -numerous and complicated are the occasions where intellect must judge -what is best for self, and what is best for the commonwealth, whose -interests must have precedence. - -And as self-denial always involves more or less pain, it becomes a fact -that happiness is to be gained only by more or less _suffering_. - -Moreover, the greater the good to be gained, the greater is the -self-denial and suffering involved in its attainment. Though there are -exceptions, this certainly is the general rule. - -The history of an individual is a history of self-conquest. It is a -history of the self-denial and suffering involved in subjecting the -physical to the intellectual, and both to the moral nature. - -In like manner, the history of the race, from infancy through its stages -of barbarism, heathenism, civilization, and Christianity, is a process -of _suffering_, as the lower principles of humanity are gradually -subjected to the higher, while men learn to give up lower gratifications -for the more elevated, and to sacrifice the lesser good of the minority -to the well-being of the majority. - -But the cheering aspect of the case is that the effects of suffering are -salutary and tonic. The child who is trained to bear cold bravely, to -undergo toil, and to meet crosses, becomes strong in body, and -enterprising and energetic in spirit; while a course of ease and -indulgence debilitates both mind and body. This is true most decidedly -when such a course is cheerfully and voluntarily assumed, and is not -forced merely by fear of penalties. - -The same is true of communities. Those people who live in a cold climate -and on a hard soil become vigorous, industrious, and enterprising; while -a soft climate, and such abundance as requires no self-denial and toil, -tend to national debility and decay. - -Another fact is still more cheering, and that is, that the more a habit -of self-control and self-denial is formed, the easier they become, so -that what at first was severe and painful may become a pleasure. Such -may be the progress of a virtuous mind, that, ultimately, acting right, -or conscious rectitude, may become more desirable and agreeable than any -other mode of enjoyment. - -The history of mankind thus far shows that as a race we are progressing -to higher and higher happiness. As we take the history of each nation -from its origin, we find it a development of progress from lower to -higher degrees of enjoyment. Then we find periods of retrocession and -decay. Still, the experience of one age is transmitted more or less to -another, so that, on the whole, the race has been gaining, both as to -the number of sources of enjoyment received and as to the relative value -of the enjoyments sought. The proportion of persons who secure the -higher class of enjoyments is certainly greater now than at any former -period of the world's history. - -Again, the history of the world teaches us that while the race gains in -knowledge of the laws of the system and in obedience to them, there are -vast multitudes to whom, as individuals, this life is a _total failure_. -Their career has involved such frequent and fatal violations of the laws -of the system, that their progress is constantly downward; and, so far -as past experience gives any data, we must infer that continued -existence would prove a continued downward progress. The glutton, the -drunkard, the miser, the sluggard, the licentious, the selfish, -malignant, and cruel--all these are binding their spirits with the -_chains of habit_, rendering obedience to the laws they are violating -more difficult and improbable. - -But then, as a counterbalancing result, it is seen that these losses to -individuals are made available to the protection and improvement of the -race, and seem indispensable to it; for it is the example of the evils -suffered by wrong-doers that is constantly exercising a preservative -influence to deter others from similar courses. Thus good is constantly -educed from ill, even in the most melancholy cases. - -We have seen that it is the desire of good and fear of evil that is the -motive power in causing all mental action, and we have the history of -man to teach us also what kinds of motives prove the most effective in -securing that obedience to law which is the only way to true and perfect -happiness. - -Our only mode of learning the nature of a thing is to observe how it -acts and is acted upon. This is as true of mind as it is of material -things. What, then, has the experience of our race taught as to the -nature of mind in reference to the kinds and relative influence of -motive that secure obedience to law? - -In the first place, then, we learn that _fear of evil is indispensable_. -As soon as children in the family, or adults in society, find that no -harm comes from gratifying their desires, all restraint is removed. So -strong is this necessity, that when natural penalties seem uncertain or -far off, parents and civil rulers find it imperative to add those which -are more immediate and discernible. - -But with this we learn that fear alone is not a healthful stimulus. -Children and slaves who have no motives to action but fear of penalties -are never so successfully led to obedience as when other more agreeable -influences are combined. A mind that is constantly goaded to action by -fear of evil becomes torpid, or irritable, or despairing, or all -together. The hope of good, or rewards, then, are as indispensable to -secure obedience to law as penalties. The proper balancing of the -motives of fear of evil and hope of good is the grand art of controlling -mind, both as it respects individuals and communities. - -In reference to those motives that are pleasurable, there are two -classes which it is very important to recognize. The first class are -those sources of enjoyment which are sought for the gratification of -self without any reference to another. Of this class are the pleasures -of the senses, the enjoyment of acquiring knowledge, the exercise of -power, the pleasures of taste, and others that need not here be -specified. - -The second class are those in which the enjoyment is secured by -producing happiness for others, and is sought solely in reference to the -enjoyment of another. The most decided illustration of this kind is that -of a mother who is providing for her offspring. This and all true love -has, as its distinctive feature, the pleasure found in conferring -happiness on the beloved object. Gratitude, also, has for its main -element the desire to make some returns of enjoyment to one who has -conferred a favor. - -Experience has shown that the most powerful of all motives in securing -obedience to law is that of _love_. - -When love is awakened toward a superior mind--when this superior mind -knows what are the true rules of right and wrong, and is deeply -interested to guide and aid the inferior mind--when this interest is -expressed by all winning and attractive methods, nothing has ever yet -been found so successful in securing obedience to the rules of right and -wrong. - -The power of this principle is greatly enhanced when the superior mind -is a benefactor. The bestowal of kindness excites a desire to make some -returns of good, and when it is seen that such a benefactor is gratified -by leading a dependent mind to right action, it proves a most powerful -motive to obedience. - -Still more is the power of this principle increased when the favors -bestowed are purchased by self-denial and suffering on the part of the -benefactor. The more noble the benefactor, and the greater the good thus -purchased or the evils thus averted, the stronger is the principle of -gratitude leading to such returns of obedience. - -Again, experience has shown that the advance of the race has been by the -agency of teachers and confessors who secured light and elevation to -their fellows at the expense of labor, toil, and self-denial of the -severest kind. - -These are the leading points in the results of human experience as to -the nature of mind and the laws of the system of which it is a part. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -KNOWLEDGE GAINED BY REASON AND EXPERIENCE AS TO A FUTURE STATE. - - -We have shown that, independently of a revelation, we have no sources of -knowledge except the intuitions reasoning and experience. Hereafter we -will, as is often done, include the two first in the term reason. - -We have seen what knowledge has been furnished by human experience as to -the nature of mind and the laws of the present system in which it is -placed. We will now inquire as to the teachings of reason and experience -in regard to the future. - -As to the question of the existence of the soul after the dissolution of -the body, we have only one of the intuitive truths for our guide, viz., -"things will continue as they are and have been till there is evidence -of a cause for change," or, in other words, things will continue -according to past experience till there is some evidence to the -contrary. - -It has been the uniform experience of mankind that the human mind passes -through various states of existence extremely different in nature and -continuance. The first state is that in which the mind seems to have no -susceptibilities but of sensation, and to be utterly destitute of all -the properties of a rational intellect. By a slow and gradual process, -new and successive powers seem to be called into existence, and what -seemed among the lowest grades of animal existence becomes the glory and -lord of this lower world. Yet, in the full exercise of all the faculties -of a rational and moral nature, there is a perpetual recurrence of -periods in which all evidences of the existence of such faculties cease. -In a profound sleep, or in a deep swoon, no proof of rational existence -remains either to the being thus affected or to the observers of this -phenomenon. As the extreme of old age approaches, the glories of the -mind begin to fade away, until man sometimes passes into a state of -second childhood. There are times, also, when changes in the material -system derange all the power of intellect, and sometimes reduce what was -once a rational mind to a state of entire fatuity, and then, again, the -mental powers are restored. - -The experience of mankind, then, on this subject is this: that the mind -is an existence which passes through multiplied and very great changes -without being destroyed. The soul continues to exist after changes as -great as death, and in many respects similar to it, such, for example, -as the event of birth, and of sleep, and we have never known a mind -destroyed by such changes. The argument, then, is, that as things will -be in agreement with past experience, the soul will continue to go -through other changes without being destroyed, unless there is some -reason to the contrary. - -There can be no reason found to the contrary, for there is no evidence -that the event called death is any thing more than a separation of the -spirit from its material envelope, nor is there any evidence against the -supposition that it may be an event which introduces the mind into a -more perfect state of existence. - -It appears that losing various parts of the body does not at all affect -the operations of mind; that by the perpetual changes that are taking -place in the body, every particle of it, after a course of years, is -dissevered from its connection with the spirit, and is supplied by other -matter. The soul is thus proved to be so connected with a material body -that it may lose the whole of it by a slow process without being the -least injured, and therefore we have the evidence of experience that it -may be _separated_ from the body without any detriment to its powers and -faculties. - -Analogy also leads to the supposition that death is only a change which -introduces the intellectual being into a more perfect mode of existence; -for, in past experience, those changes most resembling death, which are -not accidental, but according to the ordinary course of nature, are -means of renewing and invigorating mental powers. Thus sleep, the emblem -of death, is succeeded by renewed powers of activity and consciousness. - -The changes of other animals which most resemble death furnish another -analogy. The humble worm rolls itself up in its temporary tomb, and, -after a short slumber, bursts forth to new life, clothed in more -brilliant dyes, endued with more active capacities, and prepared to -secure enjoyments before unknown. Reasoning from past experience, then, -we should infer the continued existence of the mind after death. - -By the same method we arrive at the doctrine of the immortality of the -soul. We know that the soul does now exist. We know of no cause that -will destroy it. Therefore we infer that it will _forever_ continue to -exist. - -Whether this argument is satisfactory or not, without a revelation this -is _all_ the evidence we have of the soul's continued existence after -death, and of the immortality of the soul. - -It is the same intuitive truth which (without a revelation) alone -furnishes aid in regard to the future destiny of man. - -We assume that things are to be in agreement with past experience unless -there is evidence to the contrary. No such evidence can be found. What, -then, does the past history of our race teach us to expect from the -future? These are the most important deductions: - -We are to continue under the same laws of the system already -established. We are to have the same susceptibilities to pleasure and -pain, the same intellect to guide us, the same power of volition to -decide our own courses. - -We are to be parts of a social system in which every member suffers not -only for his own violations of law, but for the sins of others. - -The great law of this system is to be forever sustained--the _law of_ -SACRIFICE. Every being is to sacrifice the lesser for the greater good -in all his individual concerns, and, in regard to the commonwealth, the -lesser good of the individual is to be sacrificed to the greater good of -the many. In all this, also, reference is to be had to the interests of -the future as much as to those of the present, and all violations of -this great law are to involve the established penalties. - -This system of law is to be administered as it has been in the past. No -pity for ignorance, no sympathy for the suffering, will ever suspend the -natural penalties for wrong-doing. _Obedience_, exact, constant, and -persevering, is to be the only mode of securing the rewards and escaping -the penalties of this system. - -Again, mankind, as a race, are to continue to progress, until at some -period a certain portion will arrive at the entire and perfect obedience -to law which, at the present stage of being, no one has ever yet -attained. - -But, on the other hand, this progress will be attended with the hopeless -and perpetual ruin of multitudes who, as individuals, take a retrograde -course, and grow more and more guilty and miserable, while continued -existence will serve only to render obedience to law more improbable. - -But from this loss to individuals will result protective and purifying -influences to the commonwealth, so that thus good will constantly be -educed from evil. - -Again, the influences that are to secure the advance of the race to -perfect obedience are to be, knowledge of laws, fear of penalties, hope -of rewards, and love and gratitude toward those who may prove teachers, -benefactors, and self-sacrificing friends. These have been the modes in -past experience in this world, and therefore we infer them for the -future. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - KNOWLEDGE GAINED BY REASON AND EXPERIENCE - ALONE CONCERNING THE EXISTENCE, CHARACTER, - AND DESIGNS OF THE CREATOR. - - -We have shown that, in regard to our Creator, his character and designs, -without a revelation, we have nothing to guide us but the intuitive -truths, and the deductions obtained by their aid from human experience. - -We will now inquire as to the amount of knowledge to be secured from -these sources. - -By the aid of the first intuitive truth, we arrive at the knowledge of -some great First Cause or causes, existing without beginning, who -created the universe of matter and mind; yet, as has been shown, we are -not, by this first principle, enabled to infer any thing as to the -_unity_ or _plurality_ of such cause or causes. For aught that this -intuitive truth indicates, there may have been a plurality of eternal -and self-existent minds, who acted in unity at the creation of all -things. Neither can we, by the aid of this truth, arrive at any -conclusion as to the character and designs of the author or authors of -all created things. - -It is by the aid of the fourth intuitive truth that we deduce whatever -can be known of the character and designs of the Creator. - -This truth teaches us that "design is evidence of an intelligent cause, -and that the nature of a design proves the intention and character of -the author." - -The works of Nature, both of mind and matter, are full of evidence of -design, and from this we infer that the Creator is an _intelligent_ -cause. - -The infinite variety and extent of creation are evidences of the -wonderful _power_ of their Author. The fact that all the contrivances of -matter and mind are clearly designed to produce enjoyment, while pain is -merely the result of a violation of laws which, if obeyed, would secure -only happiness--this is evidence of the _benevolence_ of the Creator. - -The skill with which all things are formed and combined to secure the -ends designed are proofs of the _wisdom_ of the Creator. - -Thus, by aid of the fourth intuitive truth, and the world of mind and -matter around us, we obtain the result that the Author of Nature is -_powerful, benevolent, and wise_. - -But in regard to the use of the word _power_, as applied to the Creator, -one distinction is important. There are things which are contradictory -and impossible in the nature of things, so that no one can conceive of -them as possible. Thus, to create and not to create at the same time, or -to make a mind that is a free agent and at the same time not a free -agent, but controlled in volitions by fixed causation as matter -is--these and many other things are contradictions or impossibilities. - -Now when we say that the Creator can not do these things, we do not -limit his power, for almighty power signifies simply and only a power to -do all things that are not contradictions and thus absurdities. - -This being premised, we are obliged to infer from the history of our -race that the Creator, in regard to the existence of evil, is limited -either in power, or in benevolence, or in the nature of things. - -We arrive at this conclusion thus: We see that evils and suffering, -multitudinous and terrific, do exist, and have existed in all ages. In -reference to this, only these suppositions are conceivable: the first -is, that the Creator is perfectly benevolent, and that a better system, -with all the existing good and none of the evil, is conceivable and -possible in the nature of things, yet that he _had not the power_ to -produce and sustain it. - -The second supposition is, that the Creator has the power to produce and -sustain a wiser and better system, in which there shall be all the good -and none of the evil in the existing one, and yet that he _would not_ do -it. This either involves the supposition of a purely malignant being, -who enjoys witnessing needless and awful suffering, and prefers it to -happiness, or of one who is, like human beings, of a mixed character, -and allows evil to exist when self-denying efforts might prevent it. - -All the minds of whom we have had any knowledge, although, where their -own ease and pleasure are not to be sacrificed, they prefer to make -others around them happy, yet ever exhibit a selfish spirit. They all -show that they think and plan more for their own private enjoyment than -for the general happiness, and thus, to a greater or less extent, are -selfish. Reasoning from experience, then, we should infer that the -Creator might be of the same character. - -The third supposition is, that the Creator has instituted the _best -system possible in the nature of things_, so that there is and will be -the MOST POSSIBLE GOOD WITH THE LEAST POSSIBLE EVIL. - -We come, then, to the inquiry as to the _end_ or _design_ of the Creator -in forming the universe of mind and matter. - -To answer this, we must again refer to the fourth intuitive truth, viz., -"the nature of a contrivance is proof of the intention or design of the -author." - -This position is illustrated in many cases in common life. If we find a -contrivance which moves the air toward a fire and thus increases the -flame, we infer that the author intended to produce this result. If we -find a contrivance to show the time of day, such as a sun-dial or clock, -we can not help believing that the author intended to secure this end. - -Moreover, when we find a curious machine, where every part is arranged -on a given design, we naturally inquire _how it must be worked_ to -produce the intended result. It may have wheels that, if turned one way, -produce the end designed, but, if turned another way, produce exactly -the opposite effect. - -For example, if the wheels of a mill are arranged aright, or as the -author designed, they will grind flour or weave cotton; but if arranged -and worked contrary to the design of the author, they will break -themselves to pieces and destroy all things around them. - -Two inquiries, then, are to be made in reference to the design of the -Creator. The first is, What was the end or design for which he made all -things? and the second is, What is the right and true method by which -this design can be secured? - -We shall assume, and attempt to prove in what follows, that the design -and ultimate end of the Creator in all his works is _to produce the -greatest possible happiness with the least possible evil_. - -Afterward will be exhibited the _true and right method_ for securing -this end, so far as we can learn it by reason and experience _without a -revelation_. - -In pursuing this plan, the first step will be to exhibit the -constitution and laws of mind, as the chief and most wonderful -exhibition of the grand design of its Author. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -DIVERSITIES IN SYSTEMS OF MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. - - -We are now to commence an examination of the various powers and -operations of the human mind, for the purpose of illustrating the grand -aim of the Author in the creation of all things. - -In pursuing this course, it is needful, first, to refer to the apparent -diversities in systems of mental philosophy, for the purpose of -justifying the classification and the terms to be employed hereafter. - -There is nothing more hackneyed than the complaints against metaphysics -as abstruse, difficult of comprehension, and unpractical, while the -various writers on this science seem more or less divided into opposing -schools. Notwithstanding this, there are reasons for maintaining a real -agreement in all systems of mental philosophy, at least in essentials, -and the following considerations lead to such a conclusion: - -In the first place, the nature of the subject investigated would -necessarily tend to such a result; for that subject is the human mind, -not in its specific peculiarities, but in those generic phenomena which -are common to all minds; just as the natural philosopher investigates -those properties of matter which are common to a class, and not the -specific peculiarities that distinguish individual masses or particles. -Now, as those who direct their investigations to mental phenomena are -all drawing a picture from the same pattern, it is properly inferred -that in the main outlines there must be a general resemblance. - -Another reason for this conclusion is the mode of investigation pursued. -It is simply observing, first, the phenomena of our own minds, and then -comparing them with those of other minds as exhibited in looks, words, -and actions, and thus educing generic resemblances and specific -differences. It is the generic resemblances only that constitute the -faculties and laws of mind which are to be described, classified, and -named. - -Another reason for inferring such an agreement of systems is the fact, -not only that all human minds have common phenomena, but that they have -provided themselves with terms to express them, so that they succeed in -so far understanding each other as to make comparisons of their mental -experience. - -The same agreement may be inferred, also, when we consider that mental -philosophy treats, not of new ideas, or new combinations of ideas, but -of knowledge which is already in the mind. The process to be pursued, -then, involves a reference to what we have ourselves experienced; it is -an examination of our own feelings, thoughts, and volitions. These are -subjects of which we are competent judges, and in regard to which we can -be certain as to what is correct or incorrect, more than we can be in -reference to any other kind of knowledge. - -From these considerations, it is inferred that all systems of mental -philosophy will resemble each other just so far as they are true, and -that the difference must be mainly in modes of presenting the subject. -Inasmuch as writers on mental science are drawing a picture of those -experiences of their own minds which are common to the whole race, they -must in the main resemble each other, though some may be more imperfect, -vague, and disconnected than others. - -It may be useful to indicate the causes which have combined to produce -perplexity and apparent diversities among writers on mental science. - -The first cause is the want of an accurate medium of communication by -which one mind can compare its experience with the experience of other -minds. In natural science, when the philosopher instructs in reference -to the properties of matter, all the terms employed can be made definite -by appeals to the senses. For example, if it is not understood what is -meant by a _pungent_ smell, such a smell can be produced, and then there -is a perfectly clear idea of what is meant by the term. But in mental -science, when the term _reason_ or the term _understanding_ is employed, -no such perfect and definite mode is at command to illustrate the -meaning. - -On the contrary, in this science, a single term is often used with -various meanings, each use, however, including some common idea, while -the extent or limitation in every case is to be determined by the -connection. For example, the term _heart_ is used sometimes to signify -the chief organ of physical life, sometimes it signifies the mind -itself. In a more limited use it denotes the feelings, and in a still -more restricted sense it expresses the leading interest of the mind. -This involves a constant process of reasoning to decide the meaning of -the term. - -Another perplexity in mental science has arisen from an unwarrantable -use of terms by writers. In some instances new distinctions in mental -analysis have been originated, and then terms have been used to express -these distinctions which never before were employed in this limited -sense. Of course, in reading their works, the mind is confused by -meeting terms that in common use recall one signification, when the -writer employs them in another. - -In other cases, such writers have formed new classifications of mental -phenomena, and employed new terms to express them, and thus an -impression is made that something new has been discovered, or a new -system evolved. For example, Brown arranges the intellectual operations -of mind in but two general classes, and calls them _simple suggestion_ -and _relative suggestion_. But his work, in this respect, presents only -a new classification and new terms, but no new ideas. - -Another difficulty in mental science has arisen from the fact that many -writers on this subject have failed in accurate analysis of the -phenomena of mind, and, of course, have not succeeded in conveying clear -and distinct ideas to their readers. For example, some metaphysicians -have never discriminated between _desire_ and _choice_, but have written -as if they were the same thing. Thus they have affirmed things which -were true in reference to one of these mental acts, and false in regard -to the other. This has produced mistiness of apprehension or false -conceptions in their readers. Some understand the writer one way and -dispute his positions, others understand him another way and defend -them, because what he says is true of one act and false of the other, -while both acts are spoken of as one and the same. - -Meantime the great mass of readers have never been accustomed to any -accurate analysis, or even to any fixed observation of their own mental -states. They are, therefore, unprepared to detect these defects in the -writers on mental science, and are easily confused and perplexed. - -Another difficulty has arisen from false ideas as to the origin and -proper use of words. In most minds an impression has been generated that -there is an inherent meaning belonging to the words of a language. They -do not consider that in the formation of language the ideas come first, -and that the words are only conventional signs which men agree in using -to express these ideas. Writers often speak of words which by long usage -have been connected with certain ideas, as if they ought not to be so -employed. They do not consider that the fact that men have used a word -for a given idea, and understand each other, is the very thing which -establishes its proper use and meaning. - -If, then, in all time and in all nations, mankind have classified and -given names to their mental states, the classification and the names are -true and proper, and no philosopher should claim that these are -incorrect. The object of language is to enable men to communicate their -ideas, and that language is best which enables them to do it the most -extensively and the most accurately. - -It is maintained, then, that there is a _system_ of mental philosophy -which is understood by all mankind; that there are words in common use -by which it can be clearly and definitely described and expressed, -either by single terms or by circumlocution; that it is recognized in -the Bible; and that, substantially, it is the system taught by all -writers on mental science, some teaching one portion and some another. -It is maintained, also, that no such writer has taught any thing of any -importance _that is true_ which can not be translated into the language -of common life, so as to be readily comprehended even by persons of -ordinary capacity and education. - -There is no difficulty in leading any mind of ordinary capacity to -notice the several classes of mental operations introduced in this work, -and in all nations and languages these facts are recognized and terms -are provided to express them. - -Some persons object to speaking of any mental phenomena as _states_ of -mind, because it is claimed that the mind is _active_ in all. Thus -sensations are claimed to be acts of mind instead of passive states -caused by material objects. In regard to this and various other -objections urged against this mode of classification and nomenclature, -it may be remarked that the thing aimed at is simply, by means of a -description, to point out what is meant. When this is understood, it -does not change our idea to give it a name. We know by our own -experience what it is to have a sensation, and calling it a _state_ or -an _act_ does not alter our idea of the fact. - -In using words, all we have to do is to _convey our meaning_, either by -description or illustration, and when we have done this, to select a -word to express it; and that word is best for this purpose which would -recall this meaning to the greatest number of persons who have -previously used it in this sense. - -For this reason, it is most proper to use terms employed in common life -to express the phenomena treated of in mental science, instead of -instituting new terms, which, to most persons, have never had the -intended ideas connected with them. - -This method is adopted in the following pages; but it is important to -remember that, while these words are used both in common life and by -metaphysical writers with the meaning here indicated, they are often -used with other significations. Thus the word _to perceive_ is used not -only to signify the act of gaining ideas by the senses, but any act of -mind in noticing truths of any kind, either mental or external. So _to -conceive_ and _to perceive_ are often used interchangeably as meaning -the same thing. - -But this does not render it necessary to seek any new terms to express -these ideas. All that is needful is to indicate that in classing and -describing mental phenomena we restrict ourselves to one exact and -uniform use of these terms, and this use is indicated in the description -or definition given. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -CLASSIFICATION AND DESCRIPTION OF THE MENTAL POWERS. - - -We now proceed to the classification and description of the mental -powers. - -Not only all writers on mental science, but the most common writers and -speakers, recognize a general division of mental operations, which is -expressed by the terms _intellect_, _feeling_, and _choice_. We _think_, -we _feel_, and we _choose_. Even the young child learns to comprehend -these three grand divisions of the mental phenomena. - -To this most general division, in this work, are applied the terms _the -intellectual powers, the susceptibilities_, and _the will_. These terms -are selected because they are the most common ones. - - -THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. - -Under the general class of intellectual powers are arranged the -following specific powers of mind: - -Sensation, Perception, Conception, Memory, Imagination, Judgment, -Abstraction, Attention, and Association. - -_Sensation_ is a state of mind produced by material objects acting on -the senses. - -Thus, when light, which is considered as one kind of matter, affects the -eye, the sensation of _sight_ is produced. When the perfume of a rose, -which is another species of matter, affects the nostrils, the sensation -of _smell_ is produced. When a bell or some musical instrument causes -the air to vibrate on the drum of the ear, it causes the sensation of -_sound_. When any sapid body is applied to the tongue, the sensation of -_taste_ is caused. When the hand, or any part of the body, comes in -contact with another body, the sensation of _touch_ is produced. - -Thus it appears that the five senses are the organs of sensation, and -that through their instrumentality material things operate upon the -mind. - -_Perception_ is a _sensation_ attended by the _belief of a cause_, and -it is this additional circumstance alone which distinguishes perception -from sensation. - -If a person were asleep, and should suffer from the prick of a pin, or -be disturbed by an unpleasant sound, these would be mere sensations, -because the mind would not ascribe them to any cause. But if the person -should waken, these sensations would immediately become perceptions, -because they would be attended by the belief of some cause. - -_Conception_ is a state of mind similar to perception, and differs from -it in being less vivid, and in not being produced through the medium of -the senses. - -When we look at a tree, we have a _perception_ of this object. But the -mind can also have an idea of this tree when removed from the sight, -though the idea is not so vivid and distinct, nor have the senses any -agency in producing it. The perfume of a rose, also, occasions another -sensation; but when the rose is removed, so as not to affect the senses, -we can still have a _conception_ of its perfume. The conception differs -from the perception only in being less vivid, and in not being caused by -a material object acting on the senses. - -_Memory_ is either a conception or a perception, which is attended with -a feeling of its resemblance to a past state of mind. It is this feeling -of resemblance that is the only circumstance which distinguishes memory -from conception. - -Thus we may conceive of a tree without recognizing it as the particular -idea of any tree we may have seen before; but if this is accompanied by -a feeling of the resemblance of this idea to the one we always have when -we see the tree that shadows the paternal roof, this conception becomes -_memory_. If we conceive the form of a man without recognizing the -resemblance of this idea to the perceptions we have when we see any -particular man, this is a simple act of conception; but if we recognize -in this object of conception the features of a dear friend, this act -then becomes memory. Again, if we conceive of certain events and -circumstances attending them without recognizing this combination as -ever having existed in past experience, they are mere conceptions; but -if we recognize in them the events and circumstances of past experience, -conception becomes memory. - -_Imagination_ is the power which the mind possesses of arranging our -conceptions in new combinations. We can conceive objects as united -together of which we never conceived before as thus united. - -Thus, when we read the description of some picturesque scene in nature, -the mind immediately groups together mountains, trees, brooks, cottages, -and glens, forming a new combination of conceptions different from any -scene we ever witnessed or conceived before. All the objects thus -combined are conceptions; the act of arranging them is an act of the -imagination. - -_Judgment_ is the power which the mind possesses of _noticing -relations_. A _relation_ is an idea obtained by observing one thing in -connection with another. Thus, when we perceive one thing to be _longer_ -than another, one thing to be _on_ another, or one thing to _belong_ to -another--in all these cases the mind _notices relations_, or exercises -the faculty of judgment. Thus, also, when we compare any action with the -rule of duty in order to decide whether it is right or wrong, we -exercise the same faculty. This act always is necessarily preceded by -the comparison of one thing with another, in order to notice the -relations. - -_Abstraction_ is the power of noticing certain parts or qualities of any -object, as distinct from other parts or qualities. Thus, when we notice -the length of a bridge without attending to the breadth or color, or -when we notice the height of a man without thinking of his character, we -exercise the faculty of abstraction. - -_Attention_ is the direction of the mind to any particular object or -quality, from the interest which is felt in it, or in something -connected with it. The degree of attention is always proportioned to the -degree of interest felt in the object. - -_Association_ is the power possessed by the mind of recalling ideas in -the connections and relations in which they have existed in past -experience. For example, when any two objects, such as a house and a -tree, have often been observed together, the idea of one will ordinarily -be attended by that of the other. If two events have often been united -together in regard to the _time_ of their occurrence, such, for example, -as thunder and lightning, the idea of one will usually be attended by -the other. - -In this work, the aim is to introduce no more of mental analysis than is -needed for its main object. What is here introduced is not claimed as a -complete presentation of all the mental phenomena. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. - - -As there is no distinction between sensation and perception except in -the fact that one is attended with the belief of a cause and the other -is not, they will be treated of together. - -The mind of man is an immaterial existence, confined in its operations -by the body it inhabits, and depending upon the construction and -modifications of this envelope for much of its happiness or suffering. - -The exercise of the imagination, when the eyes are closed and the body -at rest, will probably give us the best idea of what is the nature of -spiritual existence when disconnected with matter. It is one of the -offices of our bodily system to retain the spirit in its operations in -one particular place, so that ordinarily it can have direct communion -with no other mind which is not in the same place. Whether this is the -case with mere spiritual existence is a question for conjecture, and not -for any rational decision. - -While the spirit of man is resident in its material frame, it is -furnished with facilities of communication with other minds, and with -organs which fit it to receive suffering or enjoyment from the material -objects by which it is surrounded. These organs of communication are the -several senses. They consist of expansions of the substance of which the -brain is formed, which, descending to the body through the spinal bone -of the back, are thence sent out in thousands of ramifications over the -whole system. Those branches which enter the eyes, and are spread over -the interior back part of this organ, are called the _optic nerve_. -Whenever the particles of light enter the eye, they strike the optic -nerve, and produce the sensation which is called _sight_. Those branches -which are spread over the tongue are the organ of _taste_. Those that -are extended through the cavities of the nostrils are called the -_olfactory_ nerves. When the small particles of matter that escape from -odoriferous bodies come in contact with these nerves, they produce the -sensation of _smell_. - -The nerves that constitute the organ of _hearing_ are extended over the -cavity of the ear behind the _tympanum_, or _ear-drum_. This cavity is -filled with a liquid, and when the drum of the ear is caused to vibrate -by the air which is set in motion by sonorous bodies, it produces -undulations of this liquid upon these nerves, and thus the sensation of -_sound_ is produced. By the expansion of other nerves, the sense of -_feeling_ is extended all over the body, excepting the nails and the -hair. It is by the action of matter, in its different forms, on these -several senses, that the mind obtains ideas, and that ideas are imparted -from one mind to another. - -_Perception_ never takes place unless some material object makes an -impression upon one of the senses. In the case of the eye, the ear, and -the nostrils, the object which is regarded as the cause of the sensation -does not come immediately in contact with the organs of sense. When we -see a body, we consider it as the cause of that perception; but it is -not the body that comes in contact with the organ of sight, but merely -the particles of light reflected from that body. In the case of smell, -the fragrant body is regarded as the cause of the sensation; but that -which acts on the sense is the material particles of perfume which flow -from that body. - -Thus, also, with hearing. We consider the sonorous body as the cause; -but the sensation is produced through the medium of the air, which -affects the drum of the ear. But in the case of taste and touch, the -body which is regarded by the mind as the cause must come in contact -with the nerves of the tongue or the body to produce the sensation. - - -_Smell._ - -The sense of smell is one which greatly conduces to the preservation, -the comfort, and the happiness of man. It is a continual aid to him in -detecting polluted atmosphere or unhealthy food. The direct enjoyment it -affords is probably less in amount than that derived from any of the -other senses; yet, were we deprived of all the enjoyment gained through -this source, we should probably find the privation much greater than we -at first might imagine. When we walk forth among the beauties of nature, -the fresh perfumes that send forth their incense are sources both of -immediate and succeeding gratification. The beautiful images of nature -which rise to the mind in our imaginative hours, would lose many of -their obscure but charming associations were the fields stripped of the -fragrance of their greens and the flowers of their sweet perfumes. -Nature would appear to have lost that moving spirit of life which now -ever rides upon the evening zephyrs and the summer breeze. As it is, as -we walk abroad, all nature seems to send forth its welcome, while to its -Maker's praise - - "Each odorous leaf, - Each opening blossom, freely breathes abroad - Its gratitude, and thanks Him with its sweets." - -_Taste._ - -When a sapid body is applied to the organ of taste, two sensations are -produced, one of _touch_ and one of _taste_. We are conscious of the -difference of these sensations when we apply a body to the tongue which -has taste, and then immediately one which has not. It is probable, -however, that the same set of nerves serve both purposes. - -It is one of the numberless evidences of the benevolence of our Creator -that the process which is necessary for the preservation of life, and -which depends upon the voluntary activity of every human being, should -be connected with a sense which affords such gratification that the duty -is sought as a pleasure. Were mankind led to seek food merely in the -exercise of reason for the purpose of preserving life, multitudes, -through carelessness and forgetfulness, would be perpetually neglecting -that regular supply without which the animal system would become -deranged and enfeebled. By the present constitution of the body, the -gratification of this sense is an object of desire, and thus we are -continually reminded of our duty, and led to it as a source of -enjoyment. - -Nor is it the gratification of this sense which is the only source of -enjoyment connected with it. The regular periods for repast bring around -the social board those united to each other by the tenderest ties of -kindred and affection. These become seasons of cheerful hilarity and -relaxation, seasons of cessation from daily cares, seasons for the -interchange of kind feelings and intellectual stores; and while the mere -gratification of sense is one source of pleasure, to this is often added -the "feast of reason and the flow of soul." - -The effect on the best feelings in thus assembling to participate in -common blessings is scarcely ever appreciated. Did every individual of -our race retire to secrecy and solitude to satisfy the cravings of -nature, how much would the sum of human happiness be diminished! But -thus has our benevolent Creator contrived that one source of enjoyment -should serve as an occasion for introducing many more. - - -_Hearing._ - -The sense of hearing is one more connected with the intellectual and -moral powers of man than either taste or smell, as it is through the -medium of this organ that both music and speech operate on the human -mind. We can form some imperfect estimate of the amount of happiness -derived from this sense by imagining the condition of mankind were they -at once and forever deprived of this source of improvement and -enjoyment. The voice of sympathy, friendship, and love would be hushed. -The eloquence of the forum, the debates of the Legislature, the -instructions of the pulpit, would cease. The music of nature--its -sighing winds and dashing waters--would be stilled, and the warbling of -the groves would charm no more. The sound of pipe, and harp, and solemn -harmonies of voice would never again waken the soul to thrilling and -nameless emotions. Where now ten thousand sounds of active life, or -cheerful hum of business, or music of language and song charm and -animate the soul, man would walk forth in silence and solitude. - -The operation of mere sound, disconnected with the ideas which are often -conveyed by it, is a subject of curious speculation. Sounds differ from -each other in _quality_, _pitch_, _force_, and in _length_. The -difference in _tone_ may be illustrated by the sounds of a clarionet -compared with the sound of a bell or of the human voice. Every -instrument and every human voice has each a peculiar tone by which it is -distinguished from all others. The difference in _pitch_ is shown by -sounding a low and a high note in succession on an instrument. The -difference in _force_ is exhibited by singing or speaking loud or soft. - -There are certain sounds that in themselves are either agreeable or -disagreeable from their tone alone. Thus the sound of a flute is -agreeable, and that of the filing of a saw is disagreeable. Sounds also -are agreeable according as they succeed each other. - -_Melody_ is a succession of agreeable tones arranged in some regular -order as it respects their duration and succession. Some melodies are -much more agreeable to the ear than others. Some melodies produce a -plaintive state of mind, others exhilarate, and this without regard to -any thing except the nature of the sounds and their succession. Thus a -very young infant, by a certain succession of musical tones, can be made -either to weep in sorrow or smile with joy. - -_Harmony_ is a certain _combination_ of sounds which are agreeable to -the ear; and it is found that the mind can be much more powerfully -affected by a combination of harmonious sounds than by any melody. The -effect of music on certain minds is very powerful, often awakening -strange and indescribable emotions. It has been, therefore, much -employed both to heighten social, patriotic, and devotional feeling. - -There is probably nothing which produces stronger and more abiding -associations in the mind than musical sounds. As an example of this may -be mentioned the national air which is sung by the Swiss in their native -valleys. It is said that when they become wanderers in foreign lands, so -strongly will this wild music recall the scenes of their childhood and -youth, their native skies, their towering mountains and romantic glens, -with all the strong local attachments that gather around such objects, -that their heart sickens with longing desires to return. And so much was -this the case with the Swiss of the French armies, that Bonaparte -forbade this air being played among his troops. The Marseilles Hymn, -which was chanted in the scenes of the French Revolution, was said to -have been perfectly electrifying, and to have produced more effect than -all the eloquence of orators or machinations of statesmen. - -The mind seems to acquire by experience only the power of determining -the place whence sounds originate. It is probable that, at first, sounds -seem to originate within the ear of the person who hears; and, even -after long experience, cases have been known, when a person suddenly -waked from sleep imagined the throbbing of his own heart was a knocking -at the door. But observation and experience soon teach us the direction -and the distance of sounds. The art of the ventriloquist consists in -nothing but the power which a nice and accurate ear gives him of -distinguishing the difference between sounds when near or far off, and -of imitating them. - - -_Touch._ - -The sense of touch is not confined to one particular organ, but is -extended over the whole system, both externally and internally. It is in -the hands, however, especially at the ends of the fingers, that this -sense is most acute and most employed. We acquire many more ideas by the -aid of this sense than by either hearing, smell, or taste. By these last -we become acquainted with only one particular quality in a body, either -of taste, smell, or sound; but by means of the touch we learn such -qualities as heat and cold, roughness and smoothness, hardness and -softness, figure, solidity, and extension. - -It is supposed that it is by this sense that we gain the idea of -something _external_, or without ourselves. The sensation of smell would -seem to be within, as an act or emotion of the soul itself. Thus also -with hearing, which, being produced within the ear by the undulating -air, would seem to originate within. Thus also with sensations within -the eye. But when the limbs begin to move and to come in contact with -outward objects, and also in contact with various parts of the body, the -mind gains an idea of the existence of some outward object. This is -probably the first sense by which any idea of existence is wakened in -the mind. As one sense after another is called into action, the mind -continually gains new ideas, and then begins its operations of -comparing, abstracting, reasoning, and willing. - -It is by the sense of touch that we gain our ideas of _resistance_ and -_extension_. In the class of ideas included under the head of ideas of -resistance may be placed those of solidity, liquidity, hardness, -softness, viscidity, roughness, and smoothness; these all being -different names for different modes of resistance to the muscles of the -hands, arms, or fingers, when applied to the bodies which have these -qualities. These ideas are not gained by simple contact; their existence -depends upon the contraction or expansion of the muscles, which are the -organs of motion and resistance in the human body. - -We may suppose the infant to gain these ideas by a process somewhat -similar to this: He first moves his arms by instinct, without any -knowledge of the effects to follow. By this movement he gains certain -ideas of the simple contractions and extension of his muscles, and -learns also that by his own will he can exercise his muscles in this -manner. At length he attempts to move his arm in a manner to which he -has become familiar, and some object intervenes, and motion is -prevented, while all his wonted muscular efforts are vain. Thus arises -in his mind a new idea, of resistance, in addition to the sensations of -touch and of motion, which had before been experienced. - -The ideas of _different degrees_ of this resistance are gained by -repeated experience, and when age furnishes the ability to understand -language, the names of hardness, softness, roughness, and the like, are -given to these ideas. In the use of his muscles, also, the infant must -first acquire its ideas of _extension_ and _figure_; for it must be -where resistance to muscular effort ceases that he must feel that the -cause ceases to exist. The little being extends his hand--an object -intervenes which interrupts his muscular motions; he grasps this object, -and wherever this feeling of resistance exists, there he feels that the -cause of it exists, and that after he has passed certain limits it does -not exist. - -_Figure_ is defined as the _limits of extension_, and, of course, it can -be seen that ideas of figure can only be gained by thus finding the -limits of extension. It has formerly been supposed that ideas of -_extension_ and _figure_ were gained by the eye, but later experiments -and discussions show that the sense of feeling, including muscular -motion, is the medium by which these ideas are first gained, and that -afterward the eye, by the principle of association, acquires the power -of distinguishing figure and distance. - -There is much enjoyment resulting from the sense of touch in many ways, -a large portion of which is almost unnoticed. Much also included under -the term _comfort_ results from this sense. Much of that which is -agreeable in clothing and in objects around us is of this nature. -Besides this, there are many endearments of friendship and affection -that gain expression only through this medium. - - -_Vision._ - -The organ of vision is the eye, which is one of the most curious and -wonderful parts of the human frame, and displays in astonishing variety -the wisdom and skill of its Designer. - -The eye consists of a round ball, formed externally of various -coverings, and within of humors of different degrees of consistency. The -front part of the eye, which is exposed to view, has a small opening in -it, which admits the rays of light within this ball, while it is by the -operation of light on the nerves, which are spread in fine net-work over -the interior, that _sight_ is produced. - -In examining the mechanism of the eye, a great variety of contrivances -appear, all aiding in accomplishing the object of vision. In the first -place, we may observe its modes of protection and defense. The lid is a -soft, moist wiper, which, with a motion quick as lightning, protects the -eye from outward violence, cleanses it from dust, veils it from -overpowering radiance, and in hours of repose entirely excludes the -light. On its edge is the fringing lash, which intercepts floating -matter that might otherwise intrude, while above is spread the eyebrow, -which, like a thatch, obstructs the drops that heat or toil accumulate -on the brow. - -We next observe the organs of motion with which the eye is furnished, -and which, with complicated strings and pulleys, can turn it every way -at the will of the intelligent agent. The _pupil_ or _opening_ of the -eye, also, is so constructed, with its minute and multiplied circular -and crossing muscles, that it can contract or expand in size just in -proportion as the light varies in intensity. - -The ball of the eye is filled with three substances of different degrees -of density. One is a watery humor, near the front of the eye; back of -this, and suspended by two muscles, is the solid lens of the eye, or the -_crystalline humor_; and the remainder of the eye, in which this lens is -imbedded, consists of the _vitreous humor_, which is of the consistence -of jelly. These all have different degrees of transparency, and are so -nicely adjusted that the rays of light, which start from every point in -all bodies in _diverging_ lines, are by these humors made to _converge_ -and meet in points on the _retina_, or the nerve of the eye, forming -there a small picture, exactly of the same proportions, though not the -same size, as the scene which is spread before the eye. - -When the outer covering of the back part of the eye is removed, the -objects which are in front of the eye may be discerned, delicately -portrayed in all their perfect colors and proportions, on the retina -which lines the interior. It is this impression of light on the optic -nerve which gives our ideas of light and colors. - -The eye is also formed in such a way that it can alter its shape and -become somewhat oblong, while at the same time its lens is projected -forward or drawn back. The object of this contrivance is to obtain an -equally perfect picture of distant and of near objects. - -Our ideas of _shape_ and _size_ at first are not gained by the eye, but -by the sense of touch. After considerable experience we learn to -determine shape and size by the eye. Experiments made upon persons born -blind and restored to sight furnish many curious facts to support this -assertion. - -When the eye first admits the light, all objects appear to _touch_ the -eye, and are all a confused mass of different colors. But by continual -observation, and by the aid of the sense of touch, objects gradually are -separated from each other, and are then regarded as separate and -distinct existences. - -The eye is so formed that the picture of any object on the retina varies -in size according to its _distance_. Two objects of equal size will make -a different picture on the back of the eye, according to the distance at -which they are held. The ideas of size at first are regulated by the -proportions of this picture in the eye, until by experience it is found -that this is an incorrect mode, and that it is necessary to judge of the -_distance_ of a body before we can determine its _size_. This accounts -for the fact that objects appear to us so different according as we -conceive of their distance, and that we are often deceived in the size -of bodies because we have no mode of determining their distance. - -But it appears also that our ideas of distance are gained, not by the -eye alone, but by the eye and the sense of feeling united. A child by -the sense of feeling learns the size of his cup or his playthings. He -sees them removed, and that their apparent size diminishes. They are -returned to him, and he finds them unaltered in size. When attempting to -recover them, he finds that when they look very small he is obliged to -pass over a much greater distance to gain them than when they appear -large, and that the distance is always in exact proportion to their -apparent size. In this way, by oft-repeated experiments, the infant -reasoner learns to judge both of the size and distance of objects. From -this it appears that, in determining the size of an object, we -previously form some judgment of its distance, and likewise that, in -finding the distance, we first determine the size. - -The _shape_ of objects is learned altogether by the sense of _feeling_. -It has before been stated that at the first exercise of vision every -thing is a confused mass of different colors, and all appearing to touch -the eye. By the aid of the hands the separate existence of different -bodies is detected, and the feeling of touch, which once was the sole -mode of determining shape, is now associated with a certain form or -picture on the eye, so that, in process of time, the eye becomes the -principal judge of shape. - -But, in determining the shape of a thing, an act of judgment is -necessary. This may be illustrated by the example of a hoop, which in -one position will make a picture in the eye which is circular, in -another position the picture of it will be oval, and in another only a -straight line. If a person will observe a hoop in these different -positions, and then attempt to draw a picture of it, he will be -conscious of this varying picture in the eye. Of course, in order to -decide the shape of a thing, we must decide its distance, its relative -position, and various circumstances which would alter the form of the -picture in the eye. It is only by long experience that the infant child -gradually acquires the power of determining the shape, size, and -distance of objects. - -The painter's art consists in laying on to canvas an enlarged picture of -the scene which is painted in the interior of his own eye. In this -minute picture of the eye, the more distant an object the smaller its -size, the more indistinct its outline, and the fainter its colors. These -same are transferred to canvas in an enlarged form; the distant objects -are made small in size, faint in colors, and indistinct in outline, just -in proportion to their distance. - -The organ of vision is the inlet of more enjoyment to the mind than any -of the other senses. Through this small loop-hole the spirit looks forth -on the rich landscape of nature, and the charms both of the natural and -moral world. The fresh colors, the beauty of motion, the grace of -figures, the fitness of proportion, and all the charms of taste, are -discovered through this medium. By the eye, also, we learn to read the -speaking face of man, we greet the smile of friendship and love, and all -those varying charms that glance across the human face divine. By the -aid of this little organ, too, we climb not only the summits of earth's -domains, but wander forth to planets, stars, and suns, traverse the vast -ethereal expanse, and gather faint images and flitting visions of the -spirit's future home. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -CONCEPTION AND MEMORY. - - -There has been much speculation on the question as to whether the mind -possesses any ideas entirely independent of the senses, which were -gained without any aid or influence from them. Many have maintained the -existence of some ideas, which they denominate _innate ideas_, which -they suppose were originally implanted in the mind, and not at all -dependent on sensation. - -On this subject it may be sufficient to remark that there is no _proof_ -of the existence of any such ideas. All ideas, so far as we can trace -them, seem to have been originally gained by the senses, though the mind -has the power of making new arrangements and combinations of such -materials as are thus furnished. - -The intuitive truths seem to exist as a part of the original -constitution of the mind, but there is no evidence that they would ever -have been called into exercise except through the instrumentality of the -senses. - -There is nothing to prove that the positive exercise of thought, -feeling, and volition is necessary to the existence of mind, and no -proof that the mind might not have existed forever without thought or -feeling of any kind, were it not for the aid of the senses. We know that -there are periods of sleep and of swooning, when the mind is in -existence, and yet when there is no evidence that either thoughts, -feelings, or volitions are in exercise. - -Speculations on this subject seem to be profitless, because there are no -data for determining them. The _facts_ in the case are not of a -character to enable us to pronounce positively either that these -operations are or are not essential to its existence. It may be that in -sleep and in a swoon these phenomena exist, and no memory is retained of -them, and it is equally probable that at such intervals all mental -operations entirely cease. - -But, now that the mind has been furnished by the senses with its -splendid acquisitions, upon which its reflective powers can act, it is -easy to believe that it might continue to exist and to be in active -exercise if all its bodily senses, and even its material envelope, were -destroyed. Should we never again behold the light of heaven, nor be -charmed with the profusion of varied color and form, still the mind -could busy itself with pleasing visions of brilliant dyes, of graceful -outline, and fair proportion, as bright and as beautiful as any objects -of sense could awaken. Should we never again inhale the freshness of -morning or the perfumes of spring, the mind itself could furnish from -its stores some treasured incense, never to be entirely exhaled. Should -the palate never again be cooled by the freshening water of spring, or -be refreshed by the viands of the luxuriant year, yet fancy could spread -forth her golden fruits and sparkling juices in banquets as varied and -profuse as ever greeted the most fastidious taste. Should the melodies -of speech and of music be heard no more, and the sweet harmonies of -nature and of art forever be hushed, yet the exulting spirit could -warble its own songs, and melt in ecstasies with imagined harmonies. And -should the grasp of friendship rejoice us no more, nor the embrace of -affection send joy to the heart, yet still the spirit would not be -desolate, for it could gather around it the beings most loved, and still -feel the embraces of affection. - -Conceptions are distinguished into two classes with reference to this -one fact, that some of our conceptions are attended with a consciousness -that they have existed before, and others are not. Those conceptions -which are thus attended with the feeling of their resemblance to past -perceptions or conceptions are called ideas of _memory_; those of our -_perceptions_ also which are attended with this recognition are called -memory. - -How important to our happiness and improvement is this recognition of -past ideas, few are wont to imagine. If all our knowledge of external -things were forever lost to us after sensation is past, our existence -would be one of mere sensitive enjoyment, and all the honor and dignity -of mind would be destroyed. No past experience could be of any avail, -nor could any act of judgment or of reasoning be performed. Even the -most common wants of animal nature could not be supplied; for, were the -cooling water and sustaining food presented to the sight, no memory of -the past comfort secured by them would lead the mind to seek it again. -Or, had nature, by some implanted instinct, provided for these -necessities, yet life in this case would have consisted of a mere -succession of sensations, without even the amount of intellect of which -the lower animals give proof. - -It is the capacity of retrospection, too, which gives us the power of -foreseeing the future, and thus of looking both before and behind for -sources of enjoyment in delightful reminiscences and joyful -anticipations. It is this power of remembrance and foresight which -raises man to be the image of his Creator, the miniature of Him who sees -the end from the beginning, who looks back on never commencing ages, and -forward through eternal years. - -It is true the mind of man can foresee only by the process of reasoning, -by which it is inferred that the future will, in given circumstances, -resemble the past. And how the Eternal Mind can foresee by intuition all -the events which hang upon the volitions of the myriads of acting minds -which he has formed is what no human intellect can grasp. The _foresight -of intuition_ has not been bestowed upon man, but is reserved as one -distinctive prerogative of Deity. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -ATTENTION AND ABSTRACTION. - - -To understand clearly the nature of the mental phenomena called -_attention_ and _abstraction_, two facts in our mental history need -definitely to be understood--facts which have a decided bearing on the -nature and character of almost all the operations of mind. - -The first is, that the objects of our conceptions are seldom, if ever, -isolated, disconnected objects. On the contrary, there is an extended -and complex picture before the mind, including often a great variety of -objects, with their several qualities, relations, and changes. In this -mental picture some objects are clear and distinct, while others seem to -float along in shadowy vagueness. - -This fact must be evident to any mind that will closely examine its own -mental operations. It is also equally evident when we consider the mode -in which our ideas are gained by perception. We never acquire our ideas -in single disconnected lineaments. We are continually viewing complex -objects with numerous qualities and surrounded by a great variety of -circumstances, which unitedly form a _whole_ in one act of perception. - -Indeed, there are few objects, either of perception or conception, -which, however close the process of abstraction, do not remain complex -in their nature. The simplest forms of matter are _combined_ ideas of -extension, figure, color, and relation. These different ideas we gain by -the aid of the different senses. Of course, our conceptions are -combinations of different qualities in an object which the mind -considers as _one_, and as distinct from other objects. - -Each item, then, in any mental picture is itself a complex object, and -each mental picture is formed by a combination of such complex objects. -It will be found very difficult, if not impossible, to mention a name -which recalls any object of sense in which the conception recalled by -the word is a single disconnected thing, without any idea of place or -any attendant circumstances, and, as before remarked, almost all objects -of sense are complex objects, combining several ideas, which were gained -through the instrumentality of different senses. The idea of color is -gained by one sense, of position, shape, and consistency by another, and -other qualities and powers which the mind associates with it by other -senses. - -The other fact necessary to the correct understanding of the subject is -the influence which the _desires_ and _emotions_ have upon the character -both of the perceptions and conceptions with which they coexist. - -It will be found that our _sensations_ vary in vividness and -distinctness according to the strength and permanency of certain -feelings of desire which coexist with them. For example, we are -continually hearing a multitude of sounds, but in respect to many of -them, as we feel no desire to know the cause or nature of them, these -sensations are so feeble and indistinct as scarcely ever to be recalled -to the mind or recognized by any act of memory; but should we hear some -strange wailing sound, immediately the desire would arise to ascertain -its nature and cause. It would immediately become an object of distinct -and vivid perception, and continue so as long as the desire lasted. - -While one sensation becomes thus clear and prominent, it will be found -that other sensations which were coexisting with it will become feebler -and seem to die away. The same impressions may still be made upon the -eye as before, the same sounds that had previously been regarded may -still strike upon the ear, but while the desire continues to learn the -cause of that strange wailing sound, the other sensations would all be -faint and indistinct. When this desire is gratified, then other -sensations would resume their former distinctness and prominency. - -Our _conceptions_, in like manner, are affected by the coexistence of -emotion or desire. If, for example, we are employing ourselves in study -or mental speculations, the vividness of our conceptions will vary in -exact proportion to the interest we feel in securing the object about -which our conceptions are employed. If we feel but little interest in -the subject of our speculations, every conception connected with them -will be undefined and indistinct; but if the desire of approbation, or -the admonitions of conscience, or the hope of securing some future good -stimulate desire, immediately our conceptions grow more vivid and clear, -and the object at which we aim is more readily and speedily secured. The -great art, then, of quickening mental vigor and activity, and of gaining -clear and quick conceptions, is to awaken interest and excite desire. -When this is secured, conceptions will immediately become bright and -clear, and all mental operations will be carried forward with facility -and speed. - -The distinction between _attention_ and _abstraction_ is not great, but, -as it is recognized in language, it needs to be definitely understood. -_Attention_ has been defined as "the direction of the mind to some -particular object, from the interest which is felt in that object." It -consists simply in a feeling of desire coexisting with our sensations -and conceptions, and thus rendering them vivid and distinct; while, in -consequence of this fact, all other sensations and conceptions seem to -fade and grow indistinct. - -Attention seems to be the generic exercise, and abstraction one species -of the same thing. Attention is used to express the interest which -attends our perceptions or conceptions as _whole objects_, thus -rendering them clear and distinct from other surrounding objects. -Abstraction is that particular act of attention which makes _one part_ -or _one quality_ of a complex object become vivid and distinct, while -other parts and qualities grow faint and indistinct. Thus, in viewing a -landscape, we should be said to exercise the power of attention if we -noticed some object, such as a stream or a bridge, while other objects -were more slightly regarded; and we should exercise the power of -abstraction if we noticed the _color_ of the bridge or the _width_ of -the stream, while their other qualities were not equally regarded. - -It is the power of abstraction which is the foundation of _language_ in -its present use. Were it not for the power which the mind has of -abstracting certain qualities and circumstances of things, and -considering them as separate and distinct from all other parts and -qualities, no words could be used except such as specify particular -individuals. Every object that meets our eye would demand a separate and -peculiar name, thus making the acquisition of language the labor of a -life. - -But now the mind possesses the power of abstracting a greater or fewer -number of qualities, and to these _qualities_ a name is given, and -whenever these qualities are found combined in any object, this name can -be applied. Thus the name _animal_ is given to any thing which has the -qualities of existence and animal life, and the name _quadruped_ is -given to any object which has the qualities of animal life and of four -legs. - -Every thing which is regarded by the mind as a separate existence must -have some peculiar quality, or action, or circumstance of time or place, -to distinguish it from every other existence. Were there not something, -either in the qualities or circumstances, which made each object in some -respects peculiar, there would be no way to distinguish one thing from -another. - -A _proper name_ is one which is used to recall the properties and -circumstances which distinguish one individual existence from every -other. Such is the word Mount Blanc, which recalls certain qualities and -circumstances that distinguish one particular thing from all others, and -the name Julius Cæsar, which recalls the character, qualities, and -circumstances which distinguish one being from every other. - -Some words, then, are used to recall the peculiar qualities and -circumstances of individual existences, and are called _proper names_; -other words are used to recall a combination of certain qualities and -circumstances, which unitedly are an object of conception, but are not -considered by the mind as belonging to any real particular existence. -These last words are called _general terms_ or _common names_. - -A great variety of names may be applied to the same object of conception -or perception, according to the number of qualities and circumstances -which are abstracted by the mind. Thus an object may be called a -_thing_, and, in this case, the simple circumstance of existence is what -is recalled by the word. The same object may be called an _animal_, and -then the qualities of existence and animal life are made the objects of -conception. It can also be called a _man_, and then, in addition to the -qualities recalled by the word animal, are recalled those qualities -which distinguish man from all other animals. It can also be called a -_father_, and then to the qualities recalled by the term man is added -the circumstance of his relation to some other being. The same object -can be called _La Fayette_, and then, to all the preceding qualities, -would be added in our conceptions all those peculiar qualities and -circumstances which distinguish the hero of France from all other -existences. - -The following will probably illustrate the mode by which the human mind -first acquires the proper use of these general terms. The infant child -learns to distinguish one existence from another probably long before he -acquires the use of any names by which to designate them. We may suppose -that a little dog is an inmate of his nursery, and that with the _sight_ -of this animal has often been associated the _sound_ of the word _dog_. -This is so often repeated, that, by the principle of association, the -sight of the object and the sound of the word invariably recur together. -He observes that this sound is used by those around him in order to -direct his attention to the animal, and he himself soon uses the word to -direct the attention of others in the same way. - -But soon it happens that another animal is introduced into his -apartment, which in many respects resembles the object he has learned to -call a dog. To this new object he would apply the same term, but he -finds that others use the sound _cat_ in connection with the sight of -this new animal. He soon learns the difference between the two objects, -the particulars in which they agree, and those in which they differ. He -afterward notices other animals of these species, and observes that some -have the qualities to which the term _dog_ is applied, and others those -to which the term _cat_ is applied. - -He continues to notice animals of other kinds, and, after long -experience in this way, he learns to apply names to designate a -particular _combination of qualities_, and, whenever these qualities are -found combined, he has a term ready to apply to them. He learns that -some words are used to point out the peculiar qualities which -distinguish one thing from all others, and, at the same time, other -words are used which simply recall _qualities_, but do not designate any -particular existence to which they belong. Thus the term _boy_ he uses -for the purpose of designating qualities without conceiving of any -particular existence in which they are found, while the term _Mary_ is -used to designate the qualities and circumstances of the particular -existence he finds as the companion of his sports. - -All objects of our perceptions are arranged into classes, according to -the peculiar combination of qualities which are recalled by the names -employed to designate them. For example, all objects that have the -qualities of existence and of animal life are arranged in one class, and -are called _animals_. All those which have the qualities recalled by the -term animal, and the additional qualities of wings and feathers, are -arranged in another class called _birds_. All those objects which have -the qualities included in the term _bird_, together with several -additional qualities, are arranged in another class, and called -_eagles_. - -To these various classes the terms _genera_ and _species_ are applied. -These terms imply a _relation_, or the comparison of one class with -another, in reference to the _number of qualities_ to be recalled by the -terms employed. Thus the class _bird_ is called a _species_ of the class -_animal_, because it includes all the qualities that are combined in the -conception recalled by the word animal, and others in addition; but the -class _bird_ is called a _genus_ in relation to the class _eagle_, -because it contains only a part of the qualities which are recalled by -the term eagle. - -A _genus_ may be defined as a class of things the name of which recalls -_fewer_ particulars than the name of another class or species with which -it is compared. _Bird_ is a _genus_ when compared with the class -_eagle_. - -A _species_ is a class of things the name of which recalls more -particulars than the name of another class or genus with which it is -compared. _Bird_ is a _species_ when compared with the class _animal_. - -In examining language, it will be found that the larger portion of words -in common use are names of _genera_ and _species_--that is, they are -words employed to recall ideas as they are arranged in genera and -species. It is only those words that are _proper names_ which recall -conceptions of the particular existences by which we are surrounded. -Some of these surrounding existences are furnished with these particular -names, and others can be designated and distinguished from each other -only by a description. Thus we see some hills around our horizon, some -of which have a peculiar name, and others can be designated only by -describing the circumstances which distinguish them from all other -hills. - -A _definition_ of a word is an enumeration of the several qualities or -circumstances which distinguish certain things from all others, and -which are recalled to the mind when the word is used. Thus, if the word -animal is to be defined, we do it by mentioning the circumstances of its -_existence_ and _animal life_, as the ideas recalled by the word. -Generally, a word is defined by mentioning the name of some _genus_ of -which the thing intended is a _species_, and then adding those -particular qualities which the species has, in addition to those -included under the genus. Thus, if we are to define the word _man_, we -mention the genus _animal_, and then the qualities which man has in -addition to those possessed by other animals. Thus: "_Man_ is an -_animal_, having the human form, and a spirit endowed with intellect, -susceptibility, and will." - -There are some words which recall only _one_ quality or circumstance, -and which, therefore, can not be defined like the words which recall -various qualities and circumstances, as joy, sorrow, color, and the -like. Such words as these are defined by mentioning the times or -circumstances when the mind is conscious of the existence of the idea to -be recalled by the word. Thus _joy_ is "a state of mind which exists -when any ardent desire is gratified." _Color_ is "a quality of objects -which is perceived when light enters the eye." - -Those conceptions which can be defined by enumerating the several -qualities and circumstances which compose them are called _complex -ideas_, and the words used to designate them are called _complex terms_. -Such words as landscape, wrestler, giant, and philosopher, are complex -terms. The word landscape recalls a complex idea of various material -things. The word wrestler recalls an idea of a material object and one -of its actions. The word giant recalls an idea of a thing and its -relation as to size. The word philosopher recalls the idea of a thing -and one of its qualities. - -Those conceptions which are not composed of several qualities and -circumstances, but are themselves a single quality or circumstance, are -called _simple ideas_, and the words used to recall them are called -_simple terms_. Such words as sweetness, loudness, depth, pain, and joy, -are simple terms. Some terms which express emotions of the mind are -entirely simple, such as sorrow, joy, and happiness. Others are words -which recall an idea of a simple emotion and of its _cause_, such, for -example, as _gratitude_, which expresses the idea of an emotion of mind -and also that it was caused by some benefit conferred. Words that -express simple ideas can be defined only by some description of the -circumstances in which these ideas exist, or by a reference to their -causes or effects. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -ASSOCIATION. - - -The causes of the particular succession of our ideas, and the control -which the mind has in regulating this succession, is a subject no less -interesting than important; for if by any act of choice the mind has the -power of regulating its own thoughts and feelings, then man is a free -agent and an accountable being; but if the conceptions and the emotions -depend entirely upon the constitution of things, and thus, either -directly or indirectly, on the will of the Creator, then man can not be -accountable for that over which he can have no control. - -In the preceding chapter has been illustrated the effect which the -co-existence of desire has in regard both to our sensations and our -conceptions, tending to make those which are fitted to accomplish the -object desired very vivid and prominent, while others, to a greater or -less extent, disappear. - -The mind is continually under the influence of some desire. It -constantly has some plan to accomplish, some cause to search out, or -some gratification to secure. The present wish or desire of the mind -imparts an interest to whatever conception seems calculated to forward -this object. Thus, if the mathematician has a problem to solve, and this -is the leading desire of the mind, among the various conceptions that -arise, those are the most interesting which are fitted to his object, -and such immediately become vivid and distinct. If the painter or the -poet is laboring to effect some new creation of his art, and has this as -the leading object of desire, whatever conceptions seem best fitted to -his purpose are immediately invested with interest, and become distinct -and clear. If the merchant, or the capitalist, or the statesman has some -project which he is toiling to accomplish, whatever conceptions appear -adapted to his purpose soon are glowing and defined, in consequence of -the interest with which desire thus invests them. - -From this it appears that the nature of the desire, or governing purpose -of the mind, will in a great measure determine the nature and the -succession of its conceptions. If a man has chosen to find his chief -happiness in securing power and honor, then those conceptions will be -the most interesting to his mind that best fall in with his object. If -he has chosen to find happiness in securing the various gratifications -of sense, then those conceptions that most coincide with this desire -will become prominent. If a man has chosen to find his chief enjoyment -in doing the will of God, then his conceptions will, to a great extent, -be conformed to this object of desire. The current of a man's thoughts, -therefore, becomes the surest mode of determining what is the governing -purpose or leading desire of the mind. - -But there are seasons in our mental history when the mind does not seem -to be under the influence of any governing desire; when it seems to -relax, and its thoughts appear to flow on without any regulating -principle. At such times the vividness of leading conceptions, which -otherwise is determined by _desire_, seems to depend upon our past -experience. Those objects which, in past experience, have been -associated with emotion, are those which the mind selects, and which -thus begin to glow in the distinct lineaments with which emotion at -first invested them. - -In past experience, all conceptions which were attended with emotion -were most distinct and clear, and therefore, when such conceptions -return united with others, they are the ones which are most interesting, -and thus most vivid and distinct. Thus, in our musing hours of idle -reverie, as one picture after another glides before the mind, if some -object occurs, such as the home of our youth, or the friend of our early -days, the emotions which have so often been united with these objects in -past experience cause them to appear in clear and glowing lineaments, -and the stronger have been the past emotions connected with them, the -more clearly will they be defined. It appears, then, that there are two -circumstances that account for the apparent _selection_ which the mind -makes in its objects of conception. The first is the feeling that -_certain conceptions are fitted to accomplish the leading desire of the -mind_; and the second is, that _certain objects in past experience have -been attended with emotion_. - -But there is another phenomenon in our mental history which has a direct -bearing on the nature and succession of our conceptions. When any -conception, through the influence of desire or emotion, becomes the -prominent object, immediately other objects with which this has been -associated in past experience begin to return and gather around it in -new combinations. Thus a new picture is presented before the mind, from -which it again selects an object according as desire or emotion -regulates, which, under this influence, grows vivid and distinct. Around -this new object immediately begin to cluster its past associates, till -still another scene is fresh arrayed before the mind. - -In these new combinations, those objects which are least interesting -continually disappear, while those most interesting are retained to form -a part of the succeeding picture. Thus, in every mental picture, desire -or emotion seems to call forth objects which start out, as it were, in -bold relief from all others, and call from the shade of obscurity the -companions of their former existence, which gather around them in new -and varied combinations. - -Almost every object of thought in past experience has been connected -with a great number of other objects, and so great has been the variety -of its former combinations, that it would be impossible to predict, with -any degree of certainty, _which_ of its past associates will be summoned -to aid in forming the new mental scenes which are destined to arise. Yet -experience has enabled us to detect some _general laws_, which appear to -regulate these combinations. - -The _first_ is, that those objects are most likely to attend each other -which in past experience were united, while some strong emotion was -existing with them. If, for example, a retired lake had been the scene -of death to a beloved friend, the conception of this object would be -almost invariably associated with the image of the friend that had -perished beneath its waters, and also with the scene of his death. In -like manner, if some friend had expired at a certain hour of the day, or -on a particular day of the year, the return of these seasons would -probably be associated with the sorrowful scenes connected with them in -past experience. - -The _second_ law of association is, that _long continued_ or _frequently -repeated_ attention to objects that are connected at the time of this -attention will secure the connected return of these objects. -_Attention_, it may be recollected, is desire united with our -conceptions, thus rendering them more vivid. - -It seems to produce the same effect if this attention is long continued -or if it is frequently repeated. Thus, if the mind has dwelt for a long -time on a beautiful picture, has noticed all its proportions, its -shading, its outline, and its colors with minute attention, one object -in this picture can not recur to the mind without bringing with it the -other objects that were associated at the time of this close attention. -The frequent repetition of a sentence is a case where _oft repeated_ -though short attention to certain words has the effect of recalling them -to the mind in the connection in which they were placed during this -repeated attention. - -The _third_ law of association is, that objects which have _recently_ -been associated in experience are, on this account, more likely to -recall each other than to recall those which were connected with them at -a more remote period of time. The passage of time, as a general fact, -seems to weaken the vividness of our conceptions, and to destroy the -probability of their associate recurrence. Thus a line of poetry may be -repeated, and the listener may be able, the moment after, to recall each -word, but the next day the whole may be lost. - -The _fourth_ law of association is, that the recurrence of associated -objects depends, in a great measure, upon the _number_ of objects with -which it may have been connected in past experience. If it has existed -in combination with only _one_ object, that object will return -associated with it; but in proportion as the number of its associates -increases, the power of determining which will be its next companion -diminishes. As an example of this fact may be mentioned the first -hearing of a beautiful air by some particular person. The next time it -is heard, the idea of this performer will be associated with the sounds; -but after it has been sung by a great variety of persons, other -circumstances would determine what conceptions this air would recall. It -is very probable, in this case, that its notes would recall from among -the associated scenes the friend most beloved, or some interesting -circumstance that awakened emotion at the time the air was performed. - -The principal circumstances which operate in recalling associated ideas -have now been pointed out. The next inquiry is, What are those objects -and events which ordinarily are most frequently united in our -_perceptions_, and therefore are most likely to return together in our -_conceptions_? - -The most common connection of our ideas of perception are made by -contiguity in _place_. Objects are continually passing before the eye, -and they are not in single distinct objects, but in connected groups. Of -course, when we perceive any object, we must necessarily observe its -several relations to the things by which it is surrounded. If it is a -building which meets the eye, it is impossible to observe it without at -the same time perceiving the trees around it, the sky above it, and any -other objects which are parts of the picture of which this is the -prominent object. Of course, objects that are united in one complex -picture before the eye when we gain our knowledge of them by perception, -will ordinarily return together in our conceptions. - -Our ideas, also, are very much connected by contiguity as it respects -_time_. When any two events occur at the same moment of time, or in such -near connection that the conception of one remains until the other -occurs, they ordinarily will recur together in our after conceptions of -them. As an example of this may be mentioned the associations of a -family who have been accustomed to close each Sabbath with music. As the -still hour of this sacred evening drew on, wherever any wanderer might -roam, it is probable that the notes of praise, so often connected with -this season, would perpetually steal over the mind, bringing many -another image of friends, and kindred, and home. - -The mind of man is so constituted that no change can take place in any -material object without awakening the idea of some _cause_. An _effect_ -is defined as "some change of state or mode of existence in matter or -mind." A _cause_ is defined as "that without which no change would take -place in matter or mind, and with which it will take place." As the -ideas of cause and effect are so constantly conjoined in all our acts of -perception, these ideas will return together in our conceptions. Thus, -if we see an instrument which has been the cause of pain, the idea of -this effect will be recalled by a conception of the cause; or if the -mind is dwelling on the memory of some beautiful painting or poetry, the -author of these works will probably recur to the mind in connection with -these conceptions. - -We sometimes meet with persons of such peculiar habits and dispositions, -that, whenever they are encountered, the feelings are wounded or the -temper crossed by their ill-timed or ill-natured remarks. The -conceptions of such persons will ordinarily be attended by the memory of -some pains of which they have been the cause, and the mind will -involuntarily shrink from contact with them, as from the points and -thorns of a bramble-bush. Those events, therefore, or those objects -which have the relation of _cause_ and _effect_ existing between them, -will ordinarily be united as objects of conception. - -The mind of man is continually noticing the _relations_ which exist -between the different objects of its conceptions. As no idea of relation -can be gained without comparing two or more things together, those -objects which are most frequently _compared_ will naturally be most -frequently associated together in our conceptions. It has been shown -that language is founded on that principle of the mind which enables us -to notice certain qualities in things abstracted from other qualities, -and to apply names to objects according as we find certain qualities -united in them. Of course, in the use of language, the mind is -continually led to notice the particulars in which objects resemble each -other, and also the particulars in which they differ; consequently the -mind, in learning and in applying names, is continually comparing -objects, both to discover the particulars in which they are alike and -those in which they differ, so that two objects are thus brought -together before the mind. - -It is owing to this fact, therefore, that objects which resemble each -other, or which are very much contrasted in their qualities, are very -commonly united in our conceptions. If, for example, we see the -countenance of a stranger, some feature will be recognized as familiar. -Desire will be awakened to know where and in what other countenance we -have seen such a feature or such an expression. This particular feature -will thus become abstracted and vivid, and will soon recall that other -combination of features for which we are seeking, and of which this has -formed a part in our past experience. Thus two objects will be brought -before the mind at once, the person who is the stranger, and a -conception of another person whom this stranger resembles. - -All our ideas of contrast are relative. One thing can not be conceived -of as very high or very low, as very large or very small, without a -previous comparison with some object to determine this relation. Our -ideas of poverty and riches, or of happiness and misery, are also -_relative_. A person is always considered poor or rich, happy or -miserable, by comparing his lot with that of others by whom he is -surrounded. As, therefore, all ideas of resemblance or of contrast are -gained by comparing two objects together, our conceptions often unite -objects that _resemble_ each other or that are _contrasted_ with each -other. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -IMAGINATION. - - -All operations of mind which are not produced by material things acting -upon the senses consist of a continual succession of conceptions. Some -of these conceptions are exact pictures of past perceptions, and are -attended by the consciousness that such things have existed before, and -such are called ideas of memory. Others are conceptions which, by the -process of association, are continually recurring, and arranging -themselves in new combinations, according to certain laws or principles -of association. Imagination has been defined as "that power which the -mind possesses of arranging conceptions in new combinations," and it can -readily be seen that this includes all the ordinary successions of -thought except those of perception and memory. The term imagination has -been used in rather a vague manner by writers on the subject. Sometimes -it is used to signify all that succession of conceptions which recur -according to the laws of association, and sometimes it is used in a more -restricted sense. The more limited meaning is the one to which the term -is most commonly applied, and it seems to be the one which precision and -accuracy in the use of terms demand, and therefore it will now be -pointed out. - -The mind is susceptible of certain emotions, which are called emotions -of taste. These, more specifically, are called emotions of beauty, -sublimity, and novelty. Such emotions are awakened by certain objects in -nature, by certain works of art, and by the use of language which -recalls conceptions of these objects. Those objects which awaken such -emotions are called objects of taste, and those arts which enable us to -produce combinations that will awaken such emotions are called the _fine -arts_. - -Among the fine arts are ordinarily classed painting, music, sculpture, -architecture, ornamental gardening, and poetry. The art of the painter -consists in combining, according to certain rules of proportion and -fitness of outline and color, certain objects, which, either from their -peculiar character, or from the fitness of their combination in -effecting a given design, awaken emotions of beauty or sublimity. The -highest perfection of this art consists not so much in close imitation -as in the nature of the combinations, and their unity and fitness in -producing the effect designed by the artist. - -The art of the sculptor is similar in its nature, and differs chiefly in -the materials employed, and in being limited to a much more restricted -number of objects for combination. - -The art of the architect consists in planning and constructing edifices, -intended either for use or ornament, and in so arranging the different -parts as to awaken emotions of beauty or sublimity from the display of -utility, fitness, grandeur of extent, or order of proportion. - -The art of the musician consists in combining sounds so as to produce -such melodies or harmonies as will awaken varied emotions in the mind. -The power of this art over the human mind is much superior to that of -the others enumerated, because it can call forth both a greater variety -and more powerful emotions. - -The art of the poet consists in such a use of language as will recall -objects of beauty or sublimity in combinations that are pleasing to the -mind, or as will, by the description and expression of varied emotion in -other minds, awaken similar feelings in the breast of the reader. - -The art of ornamental gardening consists in such an arrangement of the -varied objects which compose a landscape as will awaken emotions of -beauty from a display of unity of design, order, fitness, and utility. - -The term imagination, then, in its most frequent use, signifies _those -new combinations of conceptions which will awaken the emotions of -taste_. - -The painter or the poet, when he attempts the exercise of his art, has -some leading desire of an object to be secured. Under the influence of -this desire, all those conceptions, recurring by the principle of -association, which appear fitted to accomplish this object, immediately -become vivid and distinct, and are clearly retained in the mind. As -other conceptions succeed, other objects are found which will forward -the general design, and these also are retained, and thus the process -continues till the object aimed at is accomplished, and by the pen or -pencil retained in durable characters. - -The action of mind to which the term _imagination_ is thus restricted -differs in no respect from other acts of conception when the mind is -under the influence of desire, except in the _nature of the objects of_ -_desire_. If it is the desire of the mind to establish a proposition by -mathematical reasoning, the mind is engaged in the same process of -conception as when it is engrossed with the desire to form some -combination of taste. In both cases some object of desire stimulates the -mind, and whatever conceptions appear fitted to accomplish this object -immediately become vivid and distinct. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -JUDGMENT. - - -The term _judgment_, as a mental faculty, signifies "that power of the -mind by which it notices _relations_." It is often used to signify all -the intellectual powers, among which it is the most important one. Thus -we hear it said that, in certain cases, the _feelings_ and the -_judgment_ are in opposition, or that the _heart_ and the _judgment_ are -not in agreement. - -It is also used often to signify any act of the mind when a comparison -is made between two things, or between the truths asserted in any -proposition and a truth already believed. The act called _memory_ is a -conception attended with one specific act of judgment, by which a -present state of mind is compared with a past, and the relation of -resemblance perceived. - -The nature of our ideas of relation are very different, according to the -object or purpose for which the comparison is made. If objects are -compared in reference to _time_, we learn some one of the relations of -past, present, or future. No idea of time can be gained except by -comparing one period of time with another, and thus noticing their -relations. All _dates_ are gained by comparing one point of time with -some specified event, such as the birth of the Savior, or some -particular period in the revolution of the earth around the sun. - -If objects are compared in reference to the _succession_ of our -conceptions or perceptions, we gain the ideas of such relations as are -expressed by the terms _firstly_, _secondly_, and _thirdly_. If objects -are compared in reference to the _degree_ of any quality, we gain an -idea of such relations as are expressed by the terms _brighter_, -_sweeter_, _harder_, _louder_. If objects are compared in reference to -_proportion_, we gain ideas of such relations as are expressed by the -terms _an eighth_, _a half_. If objects are compared in reference to the -relation of parts to a whole, we gain such ideas as are expressed by the -terms _part_, _whole_, _remainder_. - -The process of classifying objects and the use of language depend upon -the power of judgment; for if we see an object possessing certain -qualities, in order to apply the name we must compare and observe their -resemblance to the qualities to which such a name has been applied in -past experience, and this feeling of resemblance is an act of judgment. -The application of a name, then, always implies the exercise of the -power of judgment, by which a comparison is made between the present -qualities observed in an object and the same qualities which affected -the mind when the name has formerly been employed. It also implies the -act of association, by which the perception of certain qualities recalls -the idea of the sound or object with which they have been repeatedly -conjoined. - -The mental process called _reasoning_ is nothing but a connected -succession of acts of judgment. It is a comparison of what is asserted -in a given proposition with some truth which is believed, or which has -been established by evidence, and then observing the agreement or -disagreement. Thus the truth that "things will be in agreement with past -experience unless there is some reason for the contrary," is a truth -which every mind believes. Whenever, therefore, any event has been -repeatedly an object of past experience, it is compared with this truth -already believed, and found to be included under it, and therefore -entitled to the same credit. - -Thus, also, the truth that "things which equal the same thing equal one -another," is one which every mind believes. When any object by -examination is found to be included under that class of objects which -are thus equal to the same thing, it is an act of reasoning when we -infer that they are equal to one another. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE SUSCEPTIBILITIES. - - -Having examined the intellectual powers, we will now attend to the next -general class, denominated _the susceptibilities_. - -When the mind is in a state of emotion, this state is always either -pleasurable or painful. _Desire_ relates to the attainment of some -object which will be the cause of pleasurable emotions, or else to the -avoidance of something which will cause painful emotions. This desire -for pleasure and for the avoidance of pain is the mainspring of all -mental activity; for when it is not in existence, neither the powers of -the mind or of the body are called into exercise. - -There are various sources of enjoyment or causes of pleasurable emotion -to the mind of man, the most important of which will now be pointed out. - -The _first_ cause of enjoyment at the commencement of existence is that -of _sensation_.[2] This, at first, is small in amount compared with what -it becomes when association lends its aid to heighten sensitive -enjoyment. The light of day, the brilliancy of color, the sweetness of -perfume, the gratification of taste and touch, the magic influence of -sound, and the pleasure resulting from muscular activity, are probably -the chief sources of enjoyment to the infant mind. As life advances, all -these modes of sensitive gratification become connected with others of -an intellectual and moral nature, so that at mature years it is -difficult to determine how much of the enjoyment we derive from the -senses is the result of association, and how much is simply that of -sensation. - -Another source of happiness to the human mind is the simple exercise of -its intellectual powers. This includes all the pleasures derived from -the exercise of taste and the imagination; all the more profitless -exercises of reverie and castle-building; all the activity of mind -employed in contriving, inventing, and bringing to pass the various -projects for securing good to ourselves and others; and all those -charming illusions which so often give transient delight, but burst like -bubbles in the grasp. - -Another source of enjoyment is the exercise of physical and moral power. -This love of power is one of the earliest principles which is developed -in the human mind. The exercise of the muscles in producing changes in -its own material frame or in surrounding objects is a source of constant -pleasure to the infant mind. There are few who have reared a child -through the period of infancy but can recollect the times that this new -species of delight was manifested, as, with his hand raised before his -eyes, he watched its various motions, and learned his own power to -control them. - -This love of power continually displays itself in the sports and -pursuits of childhood. To project the pebble through the air; to drive -the hoop; to turn the windmill; to conduct some light stream from its -channel; to roll the rock from the mountain cliff--these and many others -are the varied modes by which childhood exhibits its love of physical -power. - -But when man begins to learn the influence which mind can exert over -mind, a new desire is awakened of _moral power_. All the different modes -are then sought by which one mind can bend the will of others to yield -to its controlling influence. It is this desire which is gratified when -the conqueror of nations beholds millions of minds yielding to the -slightest word of his command. It is this which inspires the orator, as -he pours forth that eloquence which charms the delighted throng, and -bends them to his will. It is this desire, which often becomes the -master passion, to which is sacrificed all that is just, lovely, and -benevolent. - -Another cause of enjoyment is that of sympathy in the happiness of -others. This susceptibility is a source of constant enjoyment when those -around us are contented and happy. None can be ignorant of the change -produced in passing from the society of a sprightly, cheerful, and happy -group to a circle soured by discontent or overwhelmed with melancholy. -In early childhood, the effect of this principle is clearly developed. -Even the infant child is affected and disturbed with flowing tears, and -steals away from the chamber of sorrow, while the sight of smiling faces -and the sound of cheerful voices sends through his heart the glow of -delight. - -Another source of enjoyment is a feeling of conscious rectitude. Man is -so constituted that, when he knowingly violates the principles of -rectitude, a painful feeling is the inevitable consequence, while a -habit of constant conformity to them brings a peaceful and happy state -of mind. - -Another source of happiness is the consciousness of being the cause of -happiness to others. This is an enjoyment entirely distinct from that of -sympathy in the happiness of others; for we may see happiness conferred -by another and rejoice in it, but the pleasure of being ourselves the -cause of this enjoyment is one altogether peculiar. It can readily be -seen that the more benevolent a mind is, the more happiness it will -derive from this source; while in exact proportion as the mind is -selfishly engrossed by its own exclusive interests will this stream of -enjoyment cease to flow. - -Another source of happiness is the consciousness of inspiring certain -emotions in other minds, such as esteem, respect, confidence, love, -gratitude, reverence, and the like. The desire for this is one of the -strongest passions, and its gratification often secures the most -exquisite enjoyment. This happiness, ordinarily, is proportioned to the -nobleness of the person who renders this regard. - -Another source of enjoyment is the discovery of certain qualities in -intelligent minds. The perception of the qualities of matter through the -medium of the senses is a very inferior source of gratification compared -with the discovery of certain qualities of mind. This is the source of -the highest enjoyment of which the mind is capable. The emotions thus -awakened are called esteem, veneration, love, gratitude, and the like. -_Love_, in its most general sense, is used for the pleasurable emotion -which is felt in the discovery of any quality that is agreeable, either -in matter or mind. Thus we are said to love the beauties of nature, to -love delicious fruit, and to love the society of friends. But in -relation to intelligent beings, it signifies pleasurable emotion in view -of certain qualities and actions, attended with the desire of good to -the object loved, and also a desire for reciprocated affection. There -are certain qualities and attributes of mind which may be pointed out as -the _causes_ of affection. - -The first is _intellectual superiority_. Our estimate of intellect is -altogether _relative_. What in a child seems an astonishing display of -it, would be considered puerility in a man. What excites admiration in a -savage or in the unlettered, is regarded with little emotion in the man -of education. There are various qualities of intellect which awaken -admiration. Quick perceptions and ready invention are the peculiar -attribute of some minds; others are endowed with great sagacity and -wisdom in adapting the best means to accomplish the best ends; others -possess an energy and force of purpose which enables them to encounter -difficulties, sustain bodily fatigue, and even to face death without -shrinking; others possess a power of forming new and varied combinations -that gratify the taste; others seem to possess a readiness and -versatility of mind which enables them to succeed in almost any object -they undertake. The exhibition of any of these operations of intellect -are causes of emotions of pleasure to other minds. - -The next quality of mind which is a cause of affection is the power of -_sympathy_. There is nothing which so powerfully draws the mind toward -another being as the assurance that all our pleasures will be his, and -that "in all our afflictions he will be afflicted." It is probable that -a being entirely destitute of this susceptibility, however he might -excite the mind by displays of intellectual power, never could be -regarded with the warm and tender emotions of affection. If we -encountered a mind that we felt looked upon our happiness without one -glimmering of pleasure, and who could gaze upon our sufferings without -one shade of sympathizing woe, it is probable the mind would turn away -with feelings of dissatisfaction or disgust. - -Another quality of mind which becomes a cause of love is the power of -_giving_ and _appreciating affection_. There is nothing which is an -object of more constant and fervent desire than the admiration and -affection of other minds. To be an object of attention and of admiration -to others has been the aim that has stimulated the efforts and nerved -the arm of all the heroes and conquerors of the world. To gain the -esteem and affection of other minds is what regulates the actions, the -plans, and the hopes of all mankind. If, therefore, a mind should be -destitute of this susceptibility, that which gives the chief interest -would be withdrawn. If we should find, also, that the gift of our -affections was of no value to another mind, this would deprive it of -much that awakens interest and pleasure. It is the excessive indulgence -of this desire for admiration which leads to ambition and pride--those -principles which have filled the world with contention and deluged it -with blood. - -Another quality of mind which secures affection is _benevolence_. This -consists in such a love for the happiness as induces a willingness to -make sacrifices of personal ease or enjoyment to secure a greater amount -of good to others. Every mind is so made that, if its own wishes are not -interfered with, it is more agreeable to see others happy around than to -see them miserable. There have been cases of such perversion of our -nature that some have seemed to find pleasure in the simple act of -inflicting pain upon others; but this seldom occurs until after a long -course of self-indulgence and crime. All persons, if it cost no -sacrifice, would prefer to make others happy. - -But there is a great difference in the character of minds in this -particular. Some, when they find that certain modes of personal -enjoyment interfere with the interests and happiness of others, can find -a pleasure in sacrificing their own lesser enjoyment to secure greater -good for others. But others are so engrossed by exclusive interest in -their own happiness that they will not give up the smallest amount of -their own good to secure any amount of benefit to others. - -All minds, whatever their own character may be, detest selfishness in -others, and never can bestow any great affection where this is a -prevailing trait. - -These are the leading characteristics of mind which are causes of -admiration and affection. There are other more specific exercises, such -as modesty, humility, meekness, and the like. - -But all these traits of character, which, in themselves considered, are -causes of pleasure, in certain circumstances may, to a selfish mind, -become causes of unmingled pain. If the displays of intellect or the -exhibition of the amiable susceptibilities in another being are viewed -by a selfish mind as the cause of disparagement and disadvantageous -contrast to itself, they will be regarded only with painful emotions. -They will awaken "envy, anger, wrath, malice, and all uncharitableness." -This fact is fully illustrated in the history of the world and in the -daily observation of life. - -The _causes of pain_ to the human mind are in most cases owing to these -very susceptibilities of enjoyment. The organization of the material -frame and of the external world, while it is a source of multiplied and -constant enjoyment, is often also the cause of the most intense and -exquisite suffering. The strongest conception of suffering of which mind -can form any conception is sensitive suffering. There are many minds -whose constitution and circumstances are such that they can form but -faint conceptions of any pain which results from the exercise of -malignant passions, or from other sources of suffering. But every mind -soon acquires a knowledge of what sensitive suffering must be, and can -form the most vivid conceptions of it. Though few ever suffered the -dislocation of joints, the laceration of the flesh, or the fracture of -bones, still descriptions of such sufferings are readily apprehended and -conceived of, and there is nothing from which the mind so involuntarily -shrinks. - -Another cause of suffering consists in the loss of present or expected -enjoyment. There are many blessings which seem desirable to the mind -that are never secured, and yet unhappiness is not caused by the want; -but there is no happiness which is actually in possession of which the -loss does not occasion pain. We may desire the esteem and affection of -certain beings, and yet not become unhappy from the want of it; yet -nothing sends such exquisite suffering through the mind as the -conviction that some beloved object has ceased thus to respect and to -love, or has been taken from us by death. Thus, also, if wealth, which -is the means of purchasing a variety of blessings, be not secured, the -heart can desire it without being made unhappy by the wish, yet the loss -of wealth is attended with painful disappointment and regret. The -possession of power, also, may be desired without uneasiness, but the -loss of it seldom occurs without painful emotions. - -Another cause of suffering is inactivity of body and mind. It has been -shown that desire is the spring both of mental and of physical activity, -and that this activity is one source of enjoyment. The loss of this -species of enjoyment is followed by consequent inquietude and -uneasiness. - -Another cause of suffering is the existence of strong desire with the -belief that it never can be gratified. Some desires exist in the mind -without causing pain, but they may be excited to such a degree that the -certainty that they never will be gratified may produce anguish almost -intolerable. - -Another source of pain is sympathy in the sufferings of others. These -may be so realized as to affect the mind of the observer with even more -pain than the sufferer experiences. It is probable that the tender -mother, in witnessing the distresses of her child, experiences much more -pain than the object of her sympathies. - -Another cause of suffering is the violated sense of justice. In minds of -high moral susceptibilities, suffering from this source may be most -exquisite. - -Another cause of suffering is the consciousness of guilt. The emotions -that follow the commission of crime are denominated repentance and -remorse; and it is probable that the human mind has never suffered -greater agonies than have attended the existence of these emotions. -There are cases on record when intense bodily suffering has been -resorted to as a relief from such anguish by withdrawing the attention -of the mind from those subjects that call forth such emotions. - -Another cause of pain is the apprehension of future evil. This is often -a source of long-continued and of distressing emotions, and the pain -suffered in apprehension is often greater than would be experienced if -the evils were realized. - -Another source of suffering is the exercise of malignant passions, such -as hatred, envy, and jealousy. These emotions never can exist in the -mind without pain. The exhibition of wicked passions and actions in -other minds may also be mentioned in connection with this. It is painful -to behold a mind tossed with the furies of ungoverned passion, or -yielding to the chain of selfishness and pride. - -Another source of suffering is the consciousness of the existence of -certain emotions in other minds toward ourselves. The belief that other -intelligent beings look upon our character and conduct with displeasure, -indignation, or contempt, inflicts the keenest suffering, and there is -scarcely any thing mankind will not sacrifice to avoid these painful -emotions. - -Another source of painful emotions is the view of certain characteristics -in other minds. While the discovery of certain traits in other minds -afford a high enjoyment, the want of them, or the existence of their -opposite, awaken disagreeable emotions, expressed by the terms pity, -contempt, indignation, disgust, abhorrence, and the like. - -There are other sources of pleasure and pain, which will be discussed -more at large in succeeding chapters. - -[2] Hereafter the terms sensation and perception will often be used -synonymously in cases where it is not needful to recognize the -distinction heretofore indicated. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -THE SUSCEPTIBILITIES. EMOTIONS OF TASTE. - - -Among the susceptibilities, the emotions of taste have always been -distinguished, and treated of as a peculiarly distinct class. Why is it -that certain objects of sight, and certain sounds or combinations of -sound, awaken emotions more than other sights and sounds? Why do the -perceptions of the eye and ear so much more powerfully affect the mind -than those of the other senses? These certainly are objects for -interesting inquiry. In attempting the discussion of this subject, the -following particulars need to be considered. - -All pleasurable emotions are caused either by _perception_ or -_conception_, for we have no other ideas but of these two kinds. That -they are not occasioned by perception alone must be evident from the -fact that infants and children, who have the same perceptions as matured -persons, do not experience the emotions of taste in view of the most -perfect specimens of the fine arts. A combination of gaudy colors or a -string of glittering beads will delight a child more than the most -finished productions of a Raphael or a Phidias. That it is not -conception alone which awakens such emotions is manifest from the fact -that it is the _perception_ of objects which are either sublime or -beautiful that awakens the most vivid emotions of this kind. Of course, -it is inevitable that emotions of taste are caused by perception and -conception _through their connection with some past co-existing -emotions_. - -Perceptions and conceptions can _recall the emotions_ which have been -connected with them, and emotions can also recall a conception of the -objects with which they have been united. For example, if some dark wood -had been the scene of terror and affright, either the perception or the -conception of this wood would recall the emotions of fear which had -coexisted with it. If, on some other occasion, a strong emotion of fear -should be awakened, this would probably recall a conception of the wood -with which it had formerly been united. It is no uncommon fact in our -experience to have circumstances about us that recall unusually sad and -mournful feelings, for which we are wholly unable to account. No doubt, -at such times, some particular objects, or some particular combination -of circumstances which were formerly united with painful emotions, again -recur, and recall the emotions with which they were once connected, -while the mind is wholly unable to remember the fact of their past -coexistence. In like manner, pleasurable emotions may be awakened by -certain objects of perception when the mind is equally unable to trace -the cause. - -Objects of _perception_ recall the emotions connected with them much -more vividly than objects of conception can do. Thus, if we revisit the -scenes of our childhood, the places of the sorrows and the joys of early -days, how much more vividly are the emotions recalled which were -formerly connected with these scenes than any _conception_ of these -objects could awaken. - -Certain perceptions will be found to produce emotions similar to those -awakened by the intellectual operations of mind. Thus the entrance of -light produces an emotion similar to the discovery of some truth, and -the emotion felt while in a state of doubt and uncertainty resembles -that experienced when shrouded in darkness. Great care and anxiety -produce a state of mind similar to what is felt when the body is pressed -down by a heavy weight. The upward spring of an elastic body awakens -feelings resembling those that attend the hearing of good news, and thus -with many other perceptions. From this fact originates much of the -figurative language in common use; such as when knowledge is called -light, and ignorance darkness, and care is called a load, and joy is -said to make the heart leap. - -It has previously been shown that the discovery of certain operations -and emotions of mind affords much more pleasure than attends mere -perceptions of material objects. Those who have experienced the exciting -animation felt at developments of splendid genius, and the pure delight -resulting from the interchange of affection, can well realize that no -sensitive gratification could ever be exchanged for them. Whatever -objects, therefore, most vividly recall those emotions which are -awakened when such qualities are apprehended will be most interesting to -the mind. - -Now it will appear that there are no modes by which one mind can learn -the character and feelings of another but by means of the eye and ear. A -person both deaf and blind could never, except to an exceedingly limited -extent, learn either the intellectual operations or the emotions of -another mind. Of course, it is by means of certain forms, colors, -motions, and sounds that we gain those ideas which are most interesting -and animating to the soul. It is by the blush of modesty, the paleness -of fear, the flush of indignation, that _color_ aids in giving an idea -of the emotions of the mind. The pallid hue of disease, the sallow -complexion of age, the pure and bright colors of childhood, and the -delicate blendings of the youthful complexion, have much influence in -conveying ideas of the qualities of mind in certain particulars. The -color and flashing expressions of the eye also have much to do with our -apprehensions of the workings of mind. - -As it regards _motion_ as aiding in imparting such ideas, it is by the -curl of the lip that contempt is expressed, by the arching brow that -curiosity and surprise are exhibited, by the scowling front that anger -and discontent are displayed, and by various muscular movements of the -countenance that the passions and emotions of the mind are portrayed. It -is by the motions of the body and limbs also that strong emotions are -exhibited, as in the clasped hand of supplication, the extended arms of -affection, and the violent contortions of anger. - -_Form_ and _outline_ also have their influence. The sunken eye of grief, -the hollow cheek of care and want, the bending form of sorrow, the erect -position of dignity, the curvature of haughtiness and pride, are various -modes of expressing the qualities and emotions of mind. - -But it is by the varied _sounds_ of voice chiefly that intellect glances -abroad, and the soul is poured forth at the lips. The quick and animated -sounds of cheerfulness, joy, and hope; the softer tones of meekness, -gentleness, and love; the plaintive notes of sympathy, sorrow, and pain; -the firm tone of magnanimity, fortitude, patience, and self-denial, all -exhibit the pleasing and interesting emotions of the soul. Nor less -expressive, though more painful, are the harsh sounds of anger, malice, -envy, and discontent. - -Not only are certain forms, colors, motions, and sounds the medium by -which we gain a knowledge of the intellectual operations and emotions of -other minds, but they are the means by which we discover and designate -those material objects which are causes of comfort, utility, and -enjoyment. Thus it is by the particular form and color that we -distinguish the fruits and the food which minister to our support. By -the same means we discriminate between noxious and useful plants and -animals, and distinguish all those conveniences and contrivances which -contribute to the comfort of man. Of course, certain forms and colors -are connected in the mind with certain emotions of pleasure that have -attended them as causes of comfort and enjoyment. - -In what precedes, it appears that it is those emotions which are -awakened by the apprehension of certain intellectual operations and -emotions of intelligent minds which are most delightful; that all our -ideas of such operations and emotions are gained by means of certain -forms, colors, motions, and sounds; that we designate objects of -convenience and enjoyment to ourselves by the same mode; that -perceptions can recall the emotions which have been connected with them, -even after the mind has forgotten the connection, and that perceptions -recall associated emotions much more vividly than conceptions. - -In consequence of these considerations, the inference seems justifiable -that the emotions of beauty and sublimity are not owing either simply to -the _perceptions_ produced, nor to the _conceptions_ recalled by the -principle of association. But they are accounted for in a great degree -by the fact that certain colors, forms, motions, and sounds have been so -often connected with emotions awakened by the apprehension of qualities -in other minds, or of emotions which arise in view of causes of -enjoyment to ourselves, that the _perception_ of these colors, sounds, -forms, and motions recall such agreeable emotions, even when the mind -can not trace the connection in past experience. - -As an example of this, the emotion of pleasure has been so often -connected with the clear blue of the sky and with the bright verdure of -the foliage, that the sight of either of these colors recalls the -emotions, though we may not be able to refer to any particular time when -this previous connection existed. In like manner, the moaning sound of -the wind in a storm, or the harsh growl which sometimes attends it, has -so often been united with sorrowful or disagreeable emotions, that the -sounds recall the emotions. - -But there is another important fact in regard to the causes of the -emotions of taste. It is found that the character of the _combination_ -of sounds, forms, colors, and motions has as much to do with the -existence of such feelings as the nature of these objects of perception. -The very same colors and forms, in certain combination, are very -displeasing, when in others they are beautiful. Thus, also, certain -motions in certain circumstances are very beautiful or sublime, and in -others very displeasing. The very same sounds, also, may be made either -very disagreeable or very delightful, according to their combination. - -To account for this, it is necessary to understand that objects which -tend to awaken emotions of a directly opposite nature can not both -operate on the mind without causing disagreeable feelings. If we are -surrounded by objects of awe and solemnity, it is painful to notice -objects that are mean or ludicrous. If we are under the influence of -sprightly and humorous feelings, it is painful to encounter solemn and -pensive scenes, with which, perhaps, at other times, we should be -pleased. In order, therefore, to awaken emotions of beauty and -sublimity, there must exist a _congruity_ in the arrangement and -composition of parts which will prevent the operation of causes that -would awaken incongruous emotions. - -But there is another principle which has a still more powerful operation -in regard to the effect of combination and composition. We are always -accustomed to view objects with some reference to their _nature_ and -_use_. We always feel that every effect must have a cause, and that -every contrivance has some _design_ which it was made to accomplish. - -There is no intellectual attribute of mind which is regarded with more -admiration than _wisdom_, which is always shown in selecting the best -means for accomplishing a given end; and the more interesting or -important is the object to be secured, the more is the mind pleased with -discovering the wisdom exhibited in adapting means to secure this end. -Almost every construction of nature or of art is regarded by the mind as -having some use and design. No mind, except one bereft of its powers, -would ever employ itself in designing any thing which has no possible -use, either in benefiting or pleasing the designer or others; and should -any such object be found, it would cause only disgust, as exhibiting the -fatuity of a mind which spent its powers in contriving so useless a -thing. - -There are many objects which meet the eye of man for which he in vain -seeks the use and design; but such objects are never attended with the -conviction that there is no possible use to which they can be applied; -on the contrary, they more frequently provoke curiosity, and awaken -desire to discover their nature and their use. There is a never-failing -conviction attending all our discoveries of new objects in nature that -there is some design or contrivance of which they form a link in the -chain. - -Whenever the object of any design is ascertained, immediately there -commences an examination of the modes by which this object is to be -effected. If every thing is found to harmonize--if a relation of fitness -and propriety is discovered in every part, the mind is satisfied with -the exhibition of wisdom which is thus discovered. But if some parts are -found tending to counteract the general design of the contrivance, the -object is displeasing. Every work of art, then, depends, for the -pleasure it affords, not alone on the various forms, colors, sounds, and -motions which are combined to affect the senses, but on the nature of -the design intended, and on the skill which is shown in so composing and -arranging the several parts that each shall duly aid in effecting this -design. This is the particular in which the genius of the painter, the -sculptor, the architect, the musician, and the poet is especially -exhibited. - -Another particular to be noticed in reference to this subject is the -implanted principle of curiosity, or the desire which the mind feels to -discover what is _new_. After we have discovered the object for which a -thing is contrived, and the fit adjustment of every part to this object, -one cause of interest in it ceases. And objects which have been the -subjects of repeated observation and inspection never yield so much -interest as those which afford to the mind some fresh opportunity to -discover _new_ indications of design, and of fitness in the means for -accomplishing the design. The love of novelty, then, is a powerful -principle in securing gratification to the mind. Of course, the genius -of the artist is to be displayed, not only in arranging the several -parts so as to accomplish a given design, but in the very effort to -secure a design which is new, so that the mind will have a fresh object -for exercising its powers in detecting the fitness of means for -accomplishing a given end. - -From the preceding, we recapitulate the following causes for the -pleasurable emotions which are felt in view of certain objects of sight, -and in certain combinations of sound: They recall emotions which, in -past experience, have been connected with the conception of operations -and emotions of other minds, or with material objects that were regarded -as the causes of pleasurable emotions to ourselves; they recall emotions -that are congruous in their nature; they cause emotions of pleasure from -the discovery of fitness in design and composition; and, finally, they -awaken emotions of novelty. - -Emotions of taste that are painful are caused by the presence of objects -that recall painful emotions with which they have formerly been -connected; by objects that recall incongruous emotions; by objects that -exhibit a want of fitness and design; and by objects that are common, -when the mind has been led to expect novelty. - - -OBJECTS, MOTIONS, AND SOUNDS THAT CAUSE EMOTIONS OF TASTE. - -The _causes_ which produce emotions of taste have now been pointed out. -An inquiry as to _which_ are the objects, motions, and sounds, and their -various combinations, that, in our experience, have awakened such -emotions, may lead to facts that will establish the position assumed. - -Emotions of taste generally are divided into two classes, called -emotions of _sublimity_ and emotions of _beauty_. Emotions of sublimity -resemble those which exist in the mind at the display of great -intellectual power, and at exhibitions of strong passion and emotions in -another mind. Emotions of beauty resemble those which are experienced at -the exhibition of the more gentle emotions of mind, such as pity, -humility, meekness, and affection. - -_Of Sounds._ - -All sounds are sublime which in past experience have been associated -with the strong emotions of fear and terror. Such sounds are heard in -the roar of artillery, the howling of a storm, the roll of thunder, and -the rumbling of an earthquake. Sounds are sublime, also, which convey an -idea of great power and might. This is illustrated in the emotions felt -at the uprooting of trees and the prostration of nature before a -whirlwind; in the force of the rolling waves, as they dash against the -cliffs; and in art, by the working of some ponderous and mighty engine, -that astonishes with the immense resistance it can overcome. - -Other sounds, also, are sublime which have often been associated with -emotions of awe, solemnity, or deep melancholy. Such are the tolling of -a heavy bell and the solemn notes of the organ. - -There may be certain circumstances that render a sound, that otherwise -would be very gentle and beautiful, more strongly sublime than even -those sounds that are generally most terrific. Gray describes such a -combination of circumstances in a letter to a friend. "Did you never -observe," said he, "while rocking winds are piping loud, that _pause_, -as the gust is recollecting itself, and rising upon the ear in a shrill -and plaintive note, like the swell of the Æolian harp? I do assure you -there is nothing in the world so like the _voice of a spirit_." - -We have another example in Scripture: "And behold, the Lord passed by, -and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the -rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the -wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after -the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the -fire a _still small voice_. And it was so, when Elijah heard it, he -wrapped his face in a mantle." In both these cases, the sudden silence -and the still small voice, so contrasted with the tumult around, would -awaken the most thrilling emotions of the sublime. In some cases it is -the sense which these sounds awaken of the presence of some awful and -powerful Being that causes such emotions. - -There are a great variety of sounds that are called beautiful. Such are -the sound of a distant waterfall, the murmur of a rivulet, the sighing -of the wind, the tinkling of the sheepfold, the lowing of distant kine, -and the note of the shepherd's pipe. But it must be remarked that it is -always a combination of circumstances that make sounds either sublime or -beautiful. If we know, by the source from which they originate, that -they are caused by no display of power or danger, or if necessarily they -have low and mean associations connected with them, the emotions of the -sublime or beautiful, which would otherwise recur, are prevented. Thus -the rumbling of a cart is sublime when it is believed to be thunder, and -loses this character when its true cause is discovered. The sound of the -lowing of kine in certain circumstances is very beautiful, and in others -very vulgar and displeasing. - -Music seems to owe its chief power over the mind to the fact that it can -combine all kinds of sounds that have ever been associated with any -emotions, either of dignity, awe, and terror; or of joy, sprightliness, -and mirth; or of tenderness, melancholy, and grief. Its power depends on -the nature of the particular sounds, and also on the nature of their -combination and succession in relation to time, and in relation to a -certain sound which is called the fundamental or key note. - -The art of a musical composer consists in the ability with which he -succeeds in producing a certain class of emotions which he aims to -awaken. The more finished productions of this art are never relished -till long observation and experience enable the listener to judge of the -nature of the design, and with how much success the composer has -succeeded in effecting it. Music, when adapted to certain words, has its -nature and design more clearly portrayed, and in such productions it is -easier to judge of the success of the composer. - -_Of Color._ - -There are no colors which ordinarily excite so strong an emotion as to -be called sublime. The deep black of mourning and the rich purple of -royalty approach the nearest to this character. That colors acquire -their power in awakening agreeable or disagreeable emotions simply from -the emotions which have ordinarily existed in connection with them, -appears from the fact that the associations of mankind are so -exceedingly diverse on this subject. What is considered a dignified and -solemn color in one nation is tawdry and vulgar in another. Thus, with -us, _yellow_ is common and tawdry, but among the Chinese it is a -favorite color. Black, with us, has solemn and mournful associations, -but in Spain and Venice it is an agreeable color. White, in this -country, is beautiful, as the emblem of purity and innocence, but in -China it is the sorrowful garb of mourning. - -_Of Forms._ - -Forms that awaken emotions of sublimity are such as have been associated -with emotions of danger, terror, awe, or solemnity. Such are military -ensigns, cannon, the hearse, the monument of death, and various objects -of this kind. Those forms which distinguish bodies that have great -strength, or which are enduring in their nature, awaken the same class -of emotions. Thus the Gothic castle, the outline of rocks and mountains, -and the form of the oak, are examples. Bodies often appear sublime from -the mere circumstance of size, when compared with objects of the same -kind. Thus the pyramids of Egypt are an example where relative size, -together with their imperishable materials, awakens emotions of -sublimity. The ideas of beauty of form depend almost entirely on their -fitness to the object for which they are designed, and on many casual -associations with which they are connected. - -_Of Motion._ - -All motion that awakens sublime ideas is such as conveys the notion of -great force and power. Motions of this kind are generally in straight or -angular lines. Such motions are seen in the working of machinery, and in -the efforts of animal nature. Quick motion is more sublime than slow. -Motions that awaken ideas of beauty are generally slow and curving. Such -are the windings of the quiet rivulet, the gliding motion of birds -through the air, the waving of trees, and the curling of vapor. - -In regard to the beauty and sublimity of forms and color, it is equally -true, as in reference to sound, that the alteration of circumstances -will very materially alter the nature of the emotions connected with -them. If they are so combined as to cause incongruous emotions, or if -they do not harmonize with the general design of any composition, -emotions of the sublime or beautiful are not awakened. For example, if -the vivid green, which is agreeable in itself from the pleasing emotions -which have been connected with it, is combined with a scene of -melancholy and desolation, where the design of the artist is to awaken -other than lively emotions, it appears incongruous and displeasing. - -The art of the poet consists in the use of such language as awakens -emotions of beauty and sublimity, either by recalling conceptions of -various forms, colors, and motions in nature, which are beautiful and -sublime, or the strong and powerful, or the soft and gentle emotions of -mind. - -Emotions of moral sublimity are such as are felt in witnessing -exhibitions of the force of intellect or of strong feelings. - -Emotions of moral beauty are those that are felt in witnessing the -exhibition of the gentler and tender emotions of mind. These emotions -are much more powerful and delightful than when they are more faintly -recalled by those objects of perception which are called sublime and -beautiful. - -The taste is improved by cultivating a love for intellectual endowments -and moral qualities. It is also cultivated by gaining an extensive -knowledge of objects and scenes which, either in history, or in poetry, -or in any compositions of the fine arts, have been associated with -emotions. It is also cultivated by learning the rules of fitness and -propriety, by studying works of taste, by general reading, by -intercourse with persons of refinement and taste, and by a nice -observation of the adaptation and fitness of things in the daily -intercourse and pursuits of life. - -The highest efforts of taste are exhibited in the works of artists who -make such pursuits the express object of their profession. - -But in ordinary life the cultivation of taste is chiefly exhibited in -the style, furniture, and decoration of private dwellings, and in the -dress and ornaments of the person. In reference to these, there is the -same opportunity for gratifying the eye as there is in the compositions -of the fine arts. On these subjects there are rules in regard to color, -outline, and combination, and also rules of fitness and propriety, of -which every person of taste sensibly feels the violation. In the -construction of dwelling-houses, in the proportion of rooms, in the -suitableness of colors, in the fitness of all circumstances to the spot -of location, to the habits and circumstances of the proprietor, to ideas -of convenience, and to various particulars which may be objects of -regard, in all these respects the eye of taste ever is prepared to -distinguish beauties or defects. - -As it regards dress, every individual will necessarily exhibit, to a -greater or less extent, the degree in which taste has been cultivated. A -person of real refinement of taste will always have the dress consistent -with the circumstances of fortune, the relative rank in life, the -station and character, the hour of the day, the particular pursuit or -profession, and the period of life. - -If a person is dressed with a richness and elegance which fortune does -not warrant, if the dress is either inferior or superior to that of -others of the same rank and station, if it is unfitted to the hour or -the pursuit, if youth puts on the grave dress of age, or age assumes the -bright colors and ornaments of youth, in all these cases the eye of -taste is offended. - -In the adaptation of colors to complexions, and the style of dress to -the particular form of the person; in avoiding the extremes of fashion, -the excesses of ornament, and all approaches to immodesty--in all these -respects a good taste can be displayed in dress, and thus charm us in -every-day life. A person of cultivated taste, in all that relates to the -little arrangements of domestic life, the ornaments of the exterior and -interior of a dwelling, the pursuits of hours of relaxation and -amusement, the modes of social intercourse, the nice perception of -proprieties in habits, manners, modes of address, and the thousand -little every-day incidents of life, will throw an undefined and nameless -charm around, like the soft light of heaven, that, without dazzling, -perpetually cheers. - -_Emotions of the Ludicrous._ - -There is a certain class of feelings called _emotions of the ludicrous_, -which are the causes of laughter. These are generally pleasurable in -their nature, though there are times when the emotions which produce -laughter are painful. Emotions of this kind are usually caused by the -sudden union of certain ideas in our conceptions when the laws of -association appear to be violated. Such ideas are called incongruous, -because, according to the ordinary experience of our minds, they would -not naturally have appeared together. - -In order to awaken this emotion, it is not only necessary that the mind -should discover ideas united which have not ordinarily been so in past -experience, but those which are united in direct _opposition_ to the -laws of association. Thus, if there has been a union of certain -qualities in an object which have uniformly tended to produce emotions -of a dignified and solemn kind, and some particular is pointed out which -is mean, little, or low, the unexpected incongruity occasions mirth. - -In like manner, when an object in past experience has uniformly united -ideas which awakened emotions of contempt, if some particular is pointed -out in association with these which is grand or sublime, this -incongruity occasions an emotion of the ludicrous. This is the -foundation of the amusement produced by bombastic writings, where -objects that are grand and sublime have low and mean conceptions -connected with them, or where qualities that are insignificant or mean -are connected with those which are grand and sublime. - -The following example of the union of such incongruous ideas will -illustrate: - - "And now had Phoebus in the lap - Of Thetis taken out his nap, - And, like a lobster boiled, the morn - From black to red began to turn." - -The sublime ideas connected with the sun, and the classical associations -united with the name of Thetis, would not naturally have recalled the -idea of so insignificant an animal, nor the changes produced in cooking -it, and these connections violate the ordinary laws of association. - -Emotions of the ludicrous are also produced by the sudden conception of -some association in ideas which has never before been discovered. Thus, -if ideas have been united in the mind on some other principle of -association than that of resemblance, the sudden discovery of some -unexpected resemblance will produce mirth. This is the foundation of the -merriment produced by _puns_, where the _ideas_ which the words -represent would never have been united by the principles of association, -but the union of these ideas is effected on the principle of resemblance -between the _sounds_ of the words which recall these ideas. When the -mind suddenly perceives this unexpected foundation for the union of -ideas that in all other respects are incongruous, an emotion of the -ludicrous is produced. This is also the foundation of the pleasure which -is felt in the use of alliteration in poetry, where a resemblance is -discovered in the initial sound of words that recall ideas which in all -other respects are incongruous. - -All minds enjoy the excitement of this class of emotions, but some much -more than others. _Laughter_, which is the effect of this class of -emotions, is enjoyed more or less by all mankind, and is regarded as not -only an agreeable, but as a healthful exercise. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -THE MORAL SUSCEPTIBILITIES. - - -A brief reference has been made to those susceptibilities which are the -subject of this chapter. These, from their importance, are entitled to a -more enlarged consideration. - -Before proceeding, however, it is desirable to refer to the uses of the -term _moral_, inasmuch as it often is employed with a vague -comprehension of its signification. In its widest sense it signifies -_whatever relates to the regulation of mind by motives_ in distinction -from those influences that produce involuntary results. - -In a more limited sense, it signifies _whatever relates to the -regulation of mind in reference to the rules of right and wrong_. - -In the preceding pages it has been assumed that the grand object for -which the Creator formed mind and all things is to produce _the greatest -possible happiness with the least possible evil_, and that this design -is so impressed on the human mind that the needless destruction of -happiness is felt to be _wrong_--that is, contrary or unfitted to the -design of all things; while all that tends to promote happiness is felt -to be right, or consistent with this plan. - -In order to a more clear view of this part of the subject, it is -important to inquire as to the manner in which the ideas of _right_ and -_wrong_ seem to originate. - -The young child first notices that certain actions of its own are -regarded with smiles and tones of love and approval, while other acts -occasion frowns and tones of displeasure. - -Next, it perceives that whatever gives pleasure to itself and to others -is called _good_ and _right_, while whatever causes unpleasant feelings -is called _bad_ and _wrong_. Moreover, it notices that there is a right -and wrong way to hold its spoon, to use its playthings, to put on its -clothes, and to do multitudes of other things. It thus perceives, more -and more, that there is some _rule_ to regulate the use and action of -all things, both animate and inanimate, and that such rules always have -reference to some plan or design. - -As its faculties develop and its observation enlarges, the general -impression is secured that _all_ plans and contrivances of men are -designed to promote enjoyment or to prevent discomfort, and are called -good and right just so far as this is done. At the same time, all that -tend to discomfort or pain are called bad and wrong. - -In all the works of nature around, too, every thing that promotes -enjoyment is called good and right, and the opposite is called evil and -wrong. - -At last there is a resulting feeling that the great design of all things -is to secure good and prevent evil, and that whatever is opposed to this -is wrong, and unfitted to the object for which all things exist. The -question whether this impression is owing solely to observation or -partly to mental constitution is waived as of little practical -consequence. - -But, in the experience of infancy and childhood, the _law of sacrifice_ -is speedily developed. It is perceived that much of the good to be -gained, if sought to excess, occasions pain, so that there must be a -certain amount of self-denial practiced, which, to the young novice, -sometimes involves disappointment and discomfort. It is also seen that -frequently two or more enjoyments are offered which are incompatible, so -that one must be relinquished to gain the other. It is perceived, also, -that there is a constant calculation going on as to which will be the -_best_--that is, which will secure _the most good with the least evil_. -And the child is constantly instructed that it must avoid excess, and -must give up what is of less value to secure the greater good. All this -training involves _sacrifices_ which are more or less painful, so that a -young child will sometimes cry as it voluntarily gives up one kind of -pleasure as the only mode of securing what is preferred. - -It is perceived, also, that there is a constant _balancing_ of good and -evil, so that a given amount of enjoyment cancels or repays for a -certain amount of evil. When a great amount of enjoyment is purchased by -a small degree of labor or trouble, the _compound result_ is deemed a -good, and called right; on the contrary, when the evil involved exceeds -a given amount in comparison to the good, the compound result is called -evil and wrong. - -Thus is generated the impression that there is a law of sacrifice -instituted requiring the greatest possible good with the least possible -evil, and that this is the great design of all things. - -The impression is, not merely that we are to seek enjoyment and avoid -pain, but that we are to seek the _greatest possible_ good with the -_least possible_ evil, and that in doing this we are to obey the law of -sacrifice and suffering, by which the greatest possible good _is to be -bought_ by a certain amount of evil _voluntarily_ assumed. - -In regard to this great law of sacrifice, the highest part of it is -discerned in the earliest experiences of life. The young child very soon -perceives that its mother and its other friends are constantly making -sacrifices for its own good, and bearing inconveniences and trouble for -the good of those around. And those who perform such acts of benevolent -self-sacrifice are praised, and their conduct is called good and right. -_Voluntary suffering to promote the welfare of others_ is discerned to -be the highest kind of good and right conduct in the estimation of all. - -The first feature, then, in our moral nature is that _impression of the -great design of our Creator_ which furnishes us the means of deciding on -the rectitude of all voluntary action. - -The second feature of our moral constitution is what is ordinarily -called the _sense of justice_. It is that susceptibility which is -excited at the view of the conduct of others as _voluntary_ causes of -good or evil. - -In all cases where free agents act to promote happiness, an emotion of -approval arises, together with a desire of reward to the author of the -good. On the contrary, when there is a voluntary destruction of -happiness, there is an emotion of disapproval and a desire for -retributive pain on the author of the wrong. - -These emotions are instinctive, and not at all regulated by reason in -their inception. When an evil is done, an instant desire is felt _to -discover the cause_; and when it is found, an instant desire is felt _to -inflict some penalty_. So irrational is this impulse, that children will -exhibit anger and deal blows on inanimate objects that cause pain. Even -mature minds are sometimes conscious of this impulse. - -It is the office of the intellect to judge whether the deed was a -voluntary one, whether the agent intended the mischief, and whether a -penalty will be of any use. The impulse to punish is never preceded by -any such calculations. - -That this impulse is an implanted part of our constitution, and not the -result of reason and experience, is seen in the delight manifested by -young children in the narration of the nursery tale where the cruel -uncle who murdered the Babes in the Wood receives the retributions of -Heaven. - -Another feature in this sense of justice is the _proportion_ demanded -between the evil done and the penalty inflicted. That this also is -instinctive, and not the result of reason, is seen in the nursery, where -children will approve of slight penalties for slight offenses, and -severe ones for great ones, but will revolt from any very great -disproportion between the wrong act and its penalty. As a general rule, -both in the nursery and in the great family of mature minds, the greater -the wrong done, the stronger the desire for a penalty, and the more -severe the punishment demanded. - -Another very important point of consideration is the universal feeling -of mankind that the _natural penalties_ for wrong-doing are _not -sufficient_, and that it is an act of love as well as of justice to add -to these penalties. Thus the parent who forbids his child to eat green -fruit will not trust to the results of the natural penalty, but restrain -by the fear of the immediate and more easily conceived penalty of -chastisement. - -So, in the great family of man, the natural penalties for theft are not -deemed sufficient, but severe penalties for the protection of property -are added. - -This particular is the foundation of certain distinctions that are of -great importance, which will now be pointed out. - -We find the terms "_reward_ and _punishment_" used in two different -relations. In the first and widest sense they signify not only the -penalties of human law, but those _natural consequences_ which, by the -constitution of nature, inevitably follow certain courses of conduct. - -Thus an indolent man is said to receive poverty as a punishment, and it -is in this sense that his children are said to be punished for the -faults of their father. - -The violations of natural law are punished without any reference to the -question whether the evil-doer intended the wrong, or whether he sinned -in ignorance, or whether this ignorance was involuntary and unavoidable. -The question of the justice or injustice of such natural penalties -involves the great question of the right and wrong of the system of the -universe. Is it just and right for the Creator to make a system in which -all free agents shall be thus led to obedience to its laws by penalties -as well as rewards, by fear as well as by hope? This question will not -be discussed here. - -Most discussions as to _just_ rewards and penalties ordinarily relate to -the _added_ penalties by which parents, teachers, and magistrates -enforce obedience to natural or to statute law. - -In these questions reference is always had to the _probable results_ of -such rewards and penalties in securing obedience. If experience has -shown that certain penalties do secure obedience to wise and good laws, -either of nature or of human enactment, then they are considered just. -If they do not, they are counted unwise and unjust. - -So, if certain penalties are needlessly severe--that is to say, if a -less penalty will secure equal obedience, then this also decides so -severe a penalty to be unjust. - -In deciding on the rectitude of the penalties of human enactments, it is -always assumed to be unjust to punish for any lack of knowledge and -obedience when the subject had _no power_ to know and to obey. If _a -choice to obey_ will not secure the act required of a free agent, then a -penalty inflicted for disobedience is always regarded as unjust. The -only seeming exception to this is the case where a person, by voluntary -means, has deprived himself of ability to obey. But in such cases the -punishment is felt to be right, not because he does not obey when he has -no power, but because he has voluntarily deprived himself of this power. -And he is punished for destroying his ability to obey, and not for -violating the law. - -These things in human laws, then, are always demanded to make a penalty -appear _just_ to the moral sense of mankind, namely, that the subject -have power to obey, and that he has opportunity to know the law, and is -not ignorant by any voluntary and improper neglect. - -In all questions of justice, therefore, it is important to discriminate -between those penalties that are inherent as a part of the great system -of the universe, and for which the Creator alone is the responsible -cause, and those which result from voluntary institutions of which men -are the authors. - -In connection with this subject, it is important to recognize the -distinction that exists in regard to two classes of right and wrong -actions. The first class includes those which are wrong in their nature -and in all supposable cases, such, for example, as the wanton infliction -of needless pain, or the breach of plighted faith, or the returning of -love and kindness with ungrateful treatment. In all possible -suppositions, the mind revolts from such actions as wrong and deserving -of penalties. It is this class of actions which, without any reasoning, -the mind never fails to disapprove, and to desire should be visited with -retributive penalties. - -The other class of right and wrong acts derive their estimate solely -from the circumstances in which they occur. For example, a man is angry -and beats a little child. Now the question whether his feelings and -action are right or wrong depends entirely on circumstances. If the -child has done no evil and the person knew it, his feelings and actions -are wrong. But if the person is a father correcting his child for some -heinous fault and with only a suitable degree of anger, then the feeling -and action are right. - -There is another mode of estimating conduct by which the same act may -have two opposite characters, according to the _relation_ in which it is -regarded. For example, a good parent may give wrong medicine to his -child, or punish an innocent one, believing him to be guilty. - -In such cases the act is right as it respects the motive or intention, -and wrong as it respects the nature of the action. It is sometimes the -case that a man may do a right action with a bad motive, and a wrong -action with a good motive. - -Thus the same act is right in one relation, and wrong in another. It is -important that this distinction should be borne in mind. - -The next feature in our moral constitution is the susceptibility which -is excited by the intellectual judgment of our own feelings and conduct -as either right or wrong. - -In case we decide them to be right, we experience an emotion of -self-approval which is very delightful; but if we decide that they are -wrong, we experience an immediate penalty in a painful emotion called -_remorse_. This emotion is always proportioned to the amount of evil -done, and the consciousness that it was done knowingly and -intentionally. No suffering is more keen than the highest emotions of -this kind, while their pangs are often enduring and unappeasable. -Sometimes there is an attending desire to inflict retribution on one's -self as a mode of alleviating this distress. - -This susceptibility is usually denominated _conscience_. Sometimes this -word is used to include both the intellectual judgment of our conduct as -right or wrong, and the consequent emotions of approval or remorse; -sometimes it refers to the susceptibility alone. Either use is correct, -as in the connection in which it is employed the distinction can -ordinarily be easily made. - -This analysis of our moral constitution furnishes means for a clear -definition of such terms as _obligated_, _ought_, _ought not_, and the -like. - -A person is obligated or ought to do a thing when he has the intellect -to perceive that it is right, and the moral susceptibilities just -described. When he is destitute either of the intellect or of these -susceptibilities, he ceases to be a moral and accountable being. He can -no longer be made to feel any moral obligations. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -THE WILL. - - -It is the _power of choice_ which raises man to the dignity of an -intellectual and moral being. Without this principle, he would be a -creature of mere impulses and instincts. He would possess -susceptibilities of happiness to be excited, and intellect to devise and -discover the modes of securing enjoyment; but without governing -principle, the soul would be led captive with each successive desire, or -be the sport of chances whenever conflicting desires were awakened. - -He who formed man in his own perfect image left not his work without -this balance-power to regulate the complicated springs of so wonderful -an existence. Man is now not only the image of his Creator as lord of -this lower world, but is, like him, the lord and master of his own -powers. - -It has been shown that the constitution, both of mind and of the world, -is such that it is impossible in the nature of things to gain every -object which is the cause of enjoyment. There is a constant succession -of selections to be made between different modes of securing happiness. -A lesser good is given up for a greater, or some good relinquished -altogether to avoid some consequent pain. Often, also, some painful -state of mind is sought as the means of securing some future good, or of -avoiding some greater evil. Thus men endure want, fatigue, and famine to -purchase wealth. Thus the nauseous draught will be swallowed to avoid -the pains of sickness; and thus the pleasures of domestic affection will -be sacrificed to obtain honor and fame. The whole course of life is a -constant succession of such decisions between different modes of -securing happiness and of avoiding pain. - - -_Specific and Generic Volitions._ - -In noticing the operation of mind, it will be seen that there is a -foundation for two classes of volitions or acts of choice, which may be -denominated _specific_ and _generic_. - -A _specific volition_ is one that secures some particular act, such as -the moving of the arm or turning of the head. Such volitions are -ordinarily consequent on some more general purpose of the mind, which -they aid in accomplishing, and which is, therefore, denominated a -_generic volition_. For example, a man chooses to make a certain -journey: this is the generic volition, and, in order to carry it out, he -performs a great variety of acts, each one of which aids in carrying out -the generic decision. These specific acts of will, which tend to -accomplish a more general purpose, may also be called _subordinate_, -because they are controlled by a generic volition. - -It can be seen that the generic volitions may themselves become -subordinate to a still more comprehensive purpose. Thus the man may -decide to make a journey, which is a generic volition in reference to -all acts subordinate to this end. But this journey may be a subordinate -part of a more general purpose to make a fortune or to secure some other -important end. - -It is frequently the case that a generic purpose, which relates to -objects that require a long time and many complicated operations, exists -when the mind seems almost unconscious of its power. For example, a man -may form a generic purpose to enter a profession for which years will be -required to prepare. And while his whole course of action is regulated -by this decision, he engages in pursuits entirely foreign to it and -which seem to engross his whole attention. These pursuits may sometimes -be such as are antagonistic to his grand purpose, so as at least to -imperil or retard its accomplishment. And yet this strong and quiet -purpose remains, and is eventually carried out. - -It is the case, also, that a generic volition may be formed to be -performed at some particular time and place, and then the mind becomes -entirely unconscious of it till the appointed period and circumstances -occur. Then the decision becomes dominant, and controls all other -purposes. - -Thus a man may decide that, at a specified hour, he will stop his -studies and perform certain gymnastic exercises. This volition is -forgotten until the hour arrives, and then it recurs and is carried out. - -This phenomenon sometimes occurs in sleep. Some persons, in watching -with the sick, will determine to wake at given hours to administer -medicines; then they will sleep soundly till the appointed time comes, -when they will waken and perform the predetermined actions. - -In regard to the _commencement_ of a generic purpose, we find that -sometimes it is so distinct and definite as to be the subject of -consciousness and memory. For example, a spendthrift, in some moment of -suffering and despondency, may form a determination to commence a -systematic course of thrift and economy, and may actually carry it out -through all his future life. Such cases are often to be found on record -or in everyday life. - -In other cases, this quiet, hidden, but controlling purpose seems to be -formed by unconscious and imperceptible influences, so that the mind can -not revert to the specific time or manner when it originated. For -example, a child who is trained from early life to speak the truth, can -never revert to any particular moment when this generic purpose -originated. - -It is sometimes the case, also, that a person will contemplate some -generic volition before it occurs, while the process of its final -formation seems almost beyond the power of scrutiny. For example, a man -may be urged to relinquish one employment and engage in another. He -reflects, consults, and is entirely uncertain how he shall decide. As -time passes, he gradually inclines toward the proposed change, until, -finally, he finds his determination fixed, he scarcely knows when or -how. - -Thus it appears that generic volitions commence sometimes so -instantaneously and obviously that the time and influences connected -with them can be recognized. In other cases, the decision seems to be a -gradual one, while in some instances the process can be traced, and in -others it is entirely unnoticed or forgotten. - -It is in reference to such generic purposes that the _moral character_ -of men is estimated. An honest man is one who has a fixed purpose to act -honestly in all circumstances. A truthful man is one who has such a -purpose to speak the truth at all times. - -In such cases, the degree in which such a purpose controls all others is -the measure of a man's moral character in the estimate of society. - -The history of mankind shows a great diversity of moral character -dependent on such generic volitions. Some men possess firm and reliable -moral principles in certain directions, while they are very destitute of -them in others. - -Thus it will be seen that some have formed a very decided purpose in -regard to honesty in business affairs, who yet are miserable victims to -intemperance. Others have cultivated a principle called _honor_, that -restrains them from certain actions regarded as mean, and yet they may -be frequenters of gambling saloons and other haunts of vice. - -In the religious world, too, it is the case that some who are very firm -and decided on all points of religious observances and in the -cultivation of devotional emotions, are guilty of very mean actions, -such as some worldly men of honor would not practice at the sacrifice of -a right hand. - - -_On Causes of Volition._ - -It becomes, then, a most interesting subject of inquiry as to the -_causes_ which decide these diversities of moral purposes, and also the -causes which operate to give them more or less control over other -principles. - -But, preliminary to this, it is necessary to secure some discriminating -accuracy in regard to the signification of the word _cause_ in its -various uses. - -This term, in its widest sense, signifies "_that without which a change -will not take place, and with which it will take place_." This is the -leading idea which is included in every use of the word. - -But there is a foundation for three classes of causes which may be -denominated _producing causes, occasional causes_, and _deciding -causes_. - -A _producing cause_ is that which produces a change by the constitution -of nature, so that in the given circumstances there is no power to do -otherwise. - -_Occasional causes_ are those circumstances which are indispensable to -the action of producing causes. - -Thus, when fire is applied to your powder, the fire is the producing -cause of the explosion, while the act of contact between the fire and -powder is the occasional cause. - -In regard to the action of mind in volition, the mind itself is the -producing cause, while excited desires and objects to excite those -desires are the occasional causes. Or, in other words, mind is the -producing cause of its own volitions, and motives are the occasional -causes. - - -_On Deciding Causes of Volition._ - -But inasmuch as mind always has the power to choose in _either_ of two -or more directions, the question arises as to _the causes which decide -the direction of volitions_, and which may be called _deciding causes_. -Whenever it is asked, "_Why_ did a person choose to do thus?" the -meaning is, What were the causes that influenced him to decide thus? - -Now these causes are ascertained, as all others are, by experience. Men -are always stating to each other, as well as noticing in their own -experience, the causes which decide their determinations. - -First, in certain cases, where two or more objects are presented, of -which only one can be taken, the cause assigned for the direction of the -choice may be that _one excited a stronger desire than the other_. A -vast proportion of human volitions are decided simply by the fact that -one object seems a greater good or excites a stronger desire than any -other, and is thus the strongest motive. - -But there are other cases where, of the objects presented, one excites -the strongest desire, while the judgment perceives that another will -secure a _greater good on the whole_. For example, in case of a sick -person, there may be placed a favorite drink that excites a very strong -desire, and beside it may stand a nauseous medicine. In this case, the -invalid may feel the strongest desire for the drink, and yet choose the -medicine as the greater good in its final results. - -In such cases, what decides the direction of a volition is the judgment -of the mind, that the object chosen, though it does not excite the -strongest desire, is still the greater good. - -Another deciding cause of volition is the nature of the _constitutional -susceptibilities_. For example, when it is asked why did a man forsake -domestic life and become a soldier, the deciding cause may be that he -had a strong constitutional love of the excitement and glory connected -with that profession, and but little susceptibility for the quiet -enjoyments of domestic life. - -It is sometimes the case that a child, from its birth, seems to possess -a natural love for truth, so that instructions on that point are -scarcely needed. In another case, in the same family, and under exactly -the same training, will be found a child who has the contrary -propensity, so that it costs years of careful training to form a -principle of veracity. The same constitutional variety will be found in -reference to other virtues. - -Another deciding cause of volition are _the habits_. The existence of a -_habit of obedience_, for example, will induce the formation of virtuous -purposes that would never have existed but for this. A child who began -life with strong propensities to certain faults, by a wise and careful -training may secure habits that are fully equal in power to the same -constitutional traits in another child. Often, in the result, it can not -be seen whether the generic purpose to be truthful, for example, -resulted mainly from natural constitution or from the formation of -habits. - -The will itself also is more or less regulated by this principle. When a -child is trained constantly to submit to fixed rules, the will acquires -increased ease and facility in doing it. On the contrary, a mind that is -never controlled grows more and more averse to yielding to any -regulating principle. - -Another deciding cause of volition is such _a combination of -circumstances_ as excites one class of desires, while other -sensibilities have no appropriate objects to stimulate them. - -For example, it may be asked, Why did a man choose to drink and gamble? -The cause assigned may be the presence of liquor and of tempting -companions, and the want of objects to excite higher susceptibilities. -He had no wise friends, no business, and no higher sources of enjoyment -immediately around him. - -Another deciding cause of volition is the existence of _principle or -generic purpose_. For example, it may be asked, Why did a man choose to -give up his liberty and property when he could have secured them by -false testimony? The answer may be that he was a truthful man or a -virtuous man--that is, he had formed a strong generic purpose to speak -the truth or to act right on all occasions. - -Another deciding cause of volition is the existence of love and -gratitude toward other minds, and the reflex influence of such minds in -the bestowal of their love, sympathy, teachings, and example. - -This is the most powerful of all the influences which secure and sustain -generic volitions, as will be illustrated more at large in future pages. - - -_Causes that regulate the Power of Generic Volitions._ - -The next inquiry relates to the causes which regulate the _power_ of -generic volition. - -Among those causes, the most prominent is that natural force of will -which is strictly constitutional. Some minds are formed by the Creator -with great energy and great pertinacity of will, so that when a purpose -is formed, all subordinate volitions needful to carry out this purpose -seem easily controlled. Other minds, on the contrary, possess a -naturally feeble will, so that no generic volition has a strong and -steady control, but is constantly interrupted in its power over -subordinate volitions, or is easily changed by conflicting desires. - -In one case the person is denominated a man of firm purpose or a man of -a strong will. In the other case he is called a man of yielding -temperament or a weak character. - -The remaining causes that give strength to a generic purpose are most of -those that have been enumerated as causes of the _direction_ of -volition, or _deciding causes_. These are the constitutional -susceptibilities--the habits--the surrounding circumstances--the -existence of love and gratitude toward other minds, and the reflex -influence of such minds in the bestowal of their love, sympathy, -teachings, and example. - -In all this variety of influences that decide those generic volitions -which are the foundation of moral character, it must be remembered that -in every case the mind has the power to choose that which the judgment -decides to be the greatest good on the whole for itself and for the -commonwealth. - - -_How one Mind causes Volitions in another Mind._ - -In this connection, it is important to secure exact ideas of what is -meant when one mind is spoken of as _the cause_ of the volitions of -another mind. - -Of course, in this relation, no mind can be the _producing_ cause of -volition in any mind but itself. It must be, then, either as -_occasional_ or as _deciding_ causes that we can influence other minds. - -The only mode by which we can regulate the volitions of other minds is -by _the employment of motives to stimulate desire, or by changing the -constitutional susceptibilities_. - -In the first case, men have power to so combine circumstances of -temptation as to affect the most excitable and powerful sensibilities, -or they can remove those objects and influences that sustain moral -principle, or by a long course of training they can form habits and -induce principles. The combinations of motive influences that one mind -can bring to bear on another, as temptations to right or wrong action, -are almost infinite. - -The other mode is by _changing the constitutional susceptibilities_. -This can sometimes be effected to a certain degree by education and the -formation of habits. It can be still more directly effected through the -physical organization. For example, a child may be trained to use -coffee, tea, alcohol, or tobacco, till the nervous system is shattered, -and then a placid temper becomes excitable, a generous nature grows sour -and selfish, an active nature becomes indolent, and multitudes of other -disastrous changes are the result. - -These are the only two modes in which one mind is ever regarded as the -cause of right or wrong volition in other minds. - - -_On a Ruling Purpose._ - -The most important of all the voluntary phenomena is the fact that, -while there can be a multitude of these quiet and hidden generic -purposes in the mind, it is also possible to form _one_ which shall be -the dominant or controlling one, to which all the other volitions, both -generic and specific, shall become subordinate. In common parlance, this -would be called the _ruling passion_. It may also be called the _ruling -purpose_ or _controlling principle_. This consists in the permanent -choice of some one mode of securing happiness as the _chief end_ or -grand object of life. - -We have set forth on preceding pages the chief sources of happiness and -of suffering to the human mind. Now in the history of our race we find -that each one of these modes of enjoyment have been selected by -different individuals as the chief end of their existence--as the mode -of seeking enjoyment, to which they sacrifice every other. Some persons -have chosen the pleasures of eating, drinking, and the other grosser -enjoyments of sense. Others have chosen those more elevated and refined -pleasures that come indirectly from the senses in the emotions of taste. - -Others have devoted themselves to intellectual enjoyments as their chief -resource for happiness. Others have selected the exercise of physical -and moral power, as in the case of conquerors and physical heroes, or of -those who have sought to control by moral power, as rulers and -statesmen. - -Others have made the attainment of the esteem, admiration, and love of -their fellow-creatures their chief end. Others, still, have devoted -themselves to the promotion of happiness around them as their chief -interest. Others have devoted themselves to the service of God, or what -they conceived to be such, and sometimes by the most miserable life of -asceticism and self-torture. - -Others have made it their main object in life to obey the laws of -rectitude and virtue. - -In all these cases, the _moral character_ of the person, in the view of -all observers, has been decided by this dominant volition, and exactly -in proportion to the supremacy with which it has _actually controlled_ -all other purposes. - -Some minds seem to have no chief end of life. Their existence is a -succession of small purposes, each of which has its turn in controlling -the life. Others have a strong, defined, and all-controlling principle. - -Now experience shows that both of these classes are capable, the one of -_forming_ and the other of _changing_ such a purpose. For example, in a -time of peace and ease there is little to excite the mind strongly; but -let a crisis come where fortune, reputation, and life are at stake, and -men and women are obliged to form generic decisions involving all they -hold dear, and many minds that have no controlling purpose immediately -originate one, while those whose former ruling aims were in one -direction change them entirely to another. - -This shows how it is that days of peril create heroes, statesmen, and -strong men and women. The hour of danger calls all the energies of the -soul into action. Great purposes are formed with the strongest desire -and emotion. Instantly the whole current of thought, and all the -co-existing desires and emotions, are conformed to these purposes. - -The experience of mankind proves that a dominant generic purpose may -_extend to a whole life_, and actually control all other generic and -specific volitions. - - -_Mode of Controlling the Intellect, Desires, and Emotions._ - -We will now consider some of the modes by which the will controls the -intellect, desires, and emotions. - -We have seen, in previous pages, the influence which desire and emotion -exert in making both our perceptions and conceptions more vivid. -Whatever purpose or aim in life becomes an object of strong desire, is -always distinctly and vividly conceived, while all less interesting -objects are more faint and indistinct. - -We have also seen that whenever any conception arises it always brings -connected objects, according to certain laws of association, forming a -new and complex picture. - -Whenever the mind is under the influence of a controlling purpose, the -object of pursuit is always _more interesting_ than any other. This -interest always fastens on those particulars in any mental combination -that are connected with the ruling purpose and seem fitted to promote -it, making them more vivid. Around these selected objects their past -associated ideas begin to cluster, forming other complex pictures. In -all these combinations, those ideas most consonant with the leading -interest of the mind become most vivid, and the others fade away. - -The grand method, then, for _regulating the thoughts_ is by the generic -decisions of the mind as to the modes of seeking enjoyment. - -In regard to the power of the mind over its own desires and emotions, it -is very clear that these sensibilities can not be regulated by direct -specific volitions. Let any person try to produce love, fear, joy, hope, -or gratitude by simply choosing to have them arise, and it is soon -perceived that no such power exists. - -But there are _indirect_ modes by which the mind can control its -susceptibilities. The first method is by directing attention to those -objects of thought which are fitted to call forth such emotions. For -example, if we wish to awaken the emotion of fear, we can place -ourselves in circumstances of danger, or call up ideas of horror and -distress. If we wish to call forth emotions of gratitude, we can direct -attention to acts of kindness to ourselves calculated to awaken such -feelings. If we wish to excite desire for any object, we can direct -attention to those qualities in that object that are calculated to -excite desire. In all these cases the mind can, by an act of will, -_direct its attention_ to subjects calculated to excite emotion and -desire. - -The other mode of regulating the desires and emotions is by _the -direction of our generic volitions_. For example, let a man of business, -who has never had any interest in commerce, decide to invest all his -property in foreign trade. As soon as this is done, the name of the ship -that bears his all can never be heard or seen but it excites some -emotion. A storm, that before would go unnoticed, awakens fear; the -prices in the commercial markets, before unheeded, now awaken fear or -afford pleasure. And thus multitudes of varied desires and emotions are -called into existence by this one generic volition. - -One result of a purpose to deny an importunate propensity is frequently -seen in the immediate or gradual diminution of that desire. For example, -if a person is satisfied that a certain article of food is injurious, -and resolves on _total abstinence_, it will be found that the desire for -it is very much reduced, far more so than when the effort is to diminish -the indulgence. - -When a generic purpose is formed that involves great interests, it is -impossible to prevent the desires and emotions from running consonant -with this purpose. The only mode of changing this current is to give up -this generic purpose and form another. Thus, if a man has devoted his -whole time and energies to money-making, it is impossible for him to -prevent his thoughts and feelings from running in that direction. He -must give up this as his chief end, and take a nobler object, if he -would elevate the whole course of his mental action. - -These are the principal phenomena of the grand mental faculty which is -the controlling power of the mind, and on the regulation of which all -its other powers are dependent. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -FAITH OR BELIEF. - - -We have shown that a belief in the reality of the existence, both of -mind and of matter, as _causes_, is one of the implanted principles of -mind. Some philosophers have claimed that there is nothing in existence -but mind, and that all that is called matter is simply _ideas_ of things -in the mind itself, for which there is no corresponding reality. Others -have claimed just the opposite: that there is no such existence as an -immaterial spirit, but that soul is the brain, or some other very fine -organization of matter. - -In both cases, the assumptions not only have no evidence to sustain -them, but are contrary to the common sense or reason of all mankind, and -never can be really believed. - -When _perceptions_ are called into existence by the agency of the -senses, we can not help believing that things _are as they appear to -us_, unless we have some evidence of deception either from disordered -sensation or some other cause. - -But in regard to our _conceptions_ we have two classes. One class is -attended with the belief that they correspond with realities, or the -things they represent. The other class is not attended with this belief. -For example, we can conceive of a house of a color, form, and details -such as we never saw, and this conception is not attended with any -belief of the reality of such an existence; but when we conceive of the -home of our childhood, this conception is attended with a belief of the -reality of the thing conceived. - -This illustration furnishes the means of defining "_truth_" as "_the -reality of things_." We _conceive_ the truth when our conceptions -represent correctly the reality of things, and we _believe_ the truth -when we feel this correspondence to exist. We believe falsehood when we -have a conception attended by a feeling that it represents the reality -of things when it does not. - -All our comfort, success, and happiness depend upon _believing the -truth_; for just so far as our belief or faith varies from the reality -of things, we shall meet with mistakes, disappointment, and sorrow. - -Our beneficent Creator has so formed our minds and our bodies that, in -their natural, healthy state, our _perceptions_ correspond with the -reality of things uniformly, while, as before stated, our belief or -faith also thus corresponds. - -It is very rarely the case that disease or other causes prevent this -uniform correct perception and belief in regard to all things that come -within the reach of our own senses. - -It is only in regard to that knowledge that we gain from the _experience -and testimony_ of others, or from the _process of reasoning_, that we -become liable to a false belief. - -Men often impart their conceptions of things to us, and we find that -they do not correspond with realities. - -We also, by a process of reasoning, often come to conceptions of things, -and a belief in them, which we find to be false. - -_Evidence_ may be defined as all those causes which tend to produce -_correct_ ideas of truth or the reality of things. - -Inasmuch as we find by experience that human testimony and the process -of reasoning do not uniformly conduct us to right conceptions of -realities, we find that there are different degrees of belief according -to the nature of the evidence presented. - -The highest kind of evidence is intuitive knowledge, which is a uniform -result of the constitution of mind and its inevitable circumstances. -This is called _intuitive knowledge_ or _intuitive belief_. - -All other evidence is gained by _experience_ or by _reasoning_. The -experience of other minds we gain by testimony. This is called the -_evidence of testimony_. - -Belief differs in degrees according to the nature and amount of evidence -perceived. The highest kind of evidence produces what is called -_certainty_. It is the kind which is felt in reference to the intuitive -truths. There are all degrees of faith, from the highest certainty to -entire incredulity or unbelief. - -This fact lays the foundation for a distinction in practical matters -which it is very important to recognize. It is often the case that there -is an amount of evidence that produces a conviction which rests in the -mind, but does not produce its appropriate _practical_ result. For -example, a man in feeble health has read enough on the subject to be -convinced that a daily bath in cool water would tend to restore -strength, and yet the belief does not secure the practice. But on a -review of the books which produced the conviction, or on hearing some -lecturer on health, the conviction becomes more powerful, and leads to a -corresponding practice. - -Now, in reference to the fact that there are multitudes of convictions -which are inoperative, which, if vividly realized, would become -principles of action, there is a distinction made, in common parlance, -between a dead or ideal faith, and a living or practical faith. Still -more is this distinction recognized in matters of religion, as will be -hereafter shown. - -The question whether faith or belief is under the control of the will, -or whether it is necessary and inevitable, is one of very great -importance both in regard to our happiness and our obligations. - -If belief is not under the control of the will, it must be because -either the mind has not the power of directing its attention to -evidence, or because it is so made that, when it perceives the truth, it -can not distinguish it from falsehood. - -In regard to the first alternative, the control which the mind has over -its own train of thought has been definitely pointed out and described -in the articles on attention and on the will. It appears that _the will_ -is the regulating principle, which governs all mental operations by -selecting the modes of happiness which the intellect shall be employed -in securing. Whatever mode of present or of general happiness is -selected, immediately all conceptions which the judgment discerns as -having a fitness for accomplishing this object become vivid and -distinct, and recall their associate conceptions. Thus it is the choice -of any mode of enjoyment by the will which determines the train of -thought. - -When, therefore, any question is brought up which demands attention to -evidence, if the mind has some desire to gratify, and the intellect -discerns that the conviction of this truth will interfere with this -chosen plan of happiness, the will refuses attention to what is not in -consonance with the leading desire of the mind. Where conviction of any -truth is foreseen to interfere with some plan of enjoyment already -chosen, the only way by which attention can be secured is by exhibiting -some evil that will follow inattention which will more than -counterbalance the good to be gained. In this case, the mind may choose -to attend, and run the hazard of losing the particular mode of enjoyment -sought in order to avoid the threatened evil from inattention to -evidence. - -This is the method men pursue in all their intercourse with each other. -They find that their fellow-men are unwilling to believe what is -contrary to their own wishes and plans. But when they determine that -belief shall be secured, they contrive various modes to make it appear -either for their pleasure or their interest to attend to evidence, or -else they exhibit some evil as the consequence of neglecting attention. - -The only mode by which mankind are induced to give their thoughts to the -concerns of an invisible world is by awakening their hopes of future -good to be secured, or by stimulating their fears of future evils. It -thus appears, from the laws and operations of the mind of which every -person is conscious, and also from the conduct and recorded experience -of mankind, that the mind _has_ the power of directing its attention to -evidence. - -The other alternative which would establish the principle that belief is -not under the control of the will is, that truth, when seen by the mind, -can not be distinguished from falsehood. But this, it can be seen, -involves a denial of the principles of reason and common sense. It is -saying that the mind may have the evidence of the senses, memory, and -all the other principles included in the laws of reason, and yet not -believe it; for every process of reasoning is, in fact, exhibiting -evidence either of the senses, memory, or experience, that a certain -truth is included under a primary truth. - -The only position which can be assumed without denying the principles of -reason and common sense is, that belief, according to the laws of mind, -is exactly according to the _amount_ of evidence _to which the mind -gives its attention_. - -In order to belief, then, two things are necessary, viz., _evidence_, -and the _choice of the mind to attend_ to this evidence. When both of -these are attained, the belief of truth and the rejection of falsehood -are inevitable. - -The influence which the will and desires have upon our belief accounts -for the great variety of opinions among mankind on almost every subject -of duty and of happiness. - -There are two ways in which the desires and wishes regulate belief. In -the first place, by preventing _attention_ to the subject which would -lead to the belief of truths that are inconsistent with the leading -desires of the mind. This, in a great measure, will account for the -great variety of religious belief. Religion is a subject which is felt -to be inconsistent with the leading desires of most persons who are -interested in the pursuit of other enjoyments than those resulting from -obedience to God in the discharge of the duties of benevolence and -piety. It is a subject, therefore, which receives so little examination -that opinions in regard to it are adopted with trifling attention. - -The second cause of variety of belief is the effect which _desire_ has -in making vivid those conceptions which most agree with the leading -purpose of the mind. When the mind decides to examine the evidence on -any subject, if the decision involves questions which have a bearing on -some favorite purpose, all those arguments which are most consonant with -the desires appear vivid and clear, and those which are contrary to the -wishes are fainter and less regarded. This is a fact which universal -experience demonstrates. Men always fasten on evidence which favors -their own wishes, and but faintly conceive the evidence which is -opposed. This is a cause which operates most powerfully in regard to -religious truths whenever they interfere with the leading desires. - -This view of the subject exhibits the importance of having the mind -directed to proper objects; for if the mind is earnestly engaged in the -pursuit of duty, it will be pleased with every development of truth, for -truth and duty are never found to interfere. _Truth_ is another name for -"things as they are," and it is always the duty and happiness of man to -regulate his conduct by seeing things as they are, rather than by seeing -them in false relations. That man is best prepared to discover truth who -is most sincerely desirous to obtain it, and to regulate his feelings, -words, and conduct by its dictates. - -There is nothing more obvious, from experience and observation, than -that men _feel_ their ability to control their belief, and realize both -their own obligations and those of their fellow-men on this subject. -They know that every man must act according to his belief of right and -wrong, and thus that the fulfillment of every duty depends upon the -nature of our belief. And the more important are the interests involved -in any question, the more men perceive their obligations to seek for -evidence, and obtain the knowledge necessary to enable them to judge -correctly. - -The estimation of guilt among mankind, in reference to wrong belief, is -always proportioned to the interests involved and the opportunities for -obtaining knowledge. In the minute affairs of life, where but little -evil is done from false judgments, but little blame is attached to a man -for believing wrong. Neither is a man severely judged if the necessary -knowledge was inaccessible or very difficult to be obtained. - -But where a man has great interests committed to his keeping, and has -sufficient opportunity for obtaining evidence of truth, the severest -condemnation awaits him who, through inattention or prejudice, hazards -vast interests by an incorrect belief. If an agent has the charge of -great investments, and through negligence, or indolence, or prejudice -ruins his employer, his sincere belief is no protection from severe -condemnation. If the physician has the health and life of a valued -member of the community and the object of many affections intrusted to -his skill, and from negligence and inattention destroys the life he was -appointed to save, his sincere belief is but a small palliation of his -guilt. If a judge has the fortune and life of his fellow-citizens -intrusted to his judicial knowledge and integrity, and, through want of -care and attention, is guilty of flagrant injustice and evil, the plea -of wrong belief will not protect him from the impeachment and just -indignation which await such delinquencies. - -There is no point where men are more tenacious of the obligations of -their fellow-creatures than on the subject of belief. If they find -themselves calumniated, unjustly dealt with, and treated with contempt -and scorn from prejudice or want of attention, the reality of belief is -little palliation of the guilt of those who thus render them injustice. -They feel the obligations of their fellow-men to _know the truth_ in all -that relates to their interests, honor, and good name; and often there -is scarcely any thing which it is so difficult to forgive as the simple -crime of wrong belief. - -The only modes by which men attempt to justify themselves for guilt of -this nature are to show either that the matter was of small consequence, -or that the means of learning its importance and of obtaining the other -necessary information was not within reach. - -It may be laid down, then, as a long-established axiom in regard to this -subject, that men estimate the guilt of wrong belief in all matters -relating to the welfare of mankind in exact proportion to the value of -the interests involved, and to the opportunities enjoyed for obtaining -information. - -Inasmuch as all our success and happiness depends upon our belief of the -truth, we have two of the principles of reason and common sense to guide -us. The first is, that we are to consider that to be right which has -_the balance_ of evidence in its favor; and the second is, that nothing -is to be assumed as true unless there is _some_ evidence that it is so. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -CONSTITUTIONAL VARIETIES OF THE HUMAN MIND. - - -In the preceding chapters have been presented the most important mental -faculties which are common to the race. There are none of the powers and -attributes of the mind as yet set forth which do not belong to every -mind which is regarded as rational and complete. - -But, though all the race have these in common, yet we can not but -observe an almost endless variety of human character, resulting from the -diverse _proportions_ and _combinations_ of these several faculties. - -These constitutional differences may be noticed, first, in regard to the -intellectual powers. Some minds are naturally predisposed to exercise -the reasoning powers. Others, with precisely the same kind of culture, -have little relish for this, and little power of appreciating an -argument. - -In other cases, the imagination seems to be the predominating faculty. -In other minds there seems to be an equal balance of faculties, so that -no particular power predominates. - -Next we see the same variety in reference to the susceptibilities. In -some minds, the desire for love and admiration is the predominating -principle. In others, the love of power takes the lead. Some are -eminently sympathizing. Others have a strong love of rectitude, or -natural conscience. In some, the principle of justice predominates. In -others, benevolence is the leading impulse. - -Finally, in regard to the power of volition, as has been before -indicated, there are some that possess a strong will that is decisive -and effective in regulating all specific volitions, while others possess -various and humbler measures of this power. - -According to the science of Phrenology, some of these peculiarities of -mind are indicated by the size and shape of different portions of the -brain, and externally indicated on the skull. - -That these differences are constitutional, and not the result of -education, is clear from the many facts showing that no degree of care -or training will serve to efface these distinctive traits of the mind. -To a certain degree they may be modified by education, and the equal -balance of the faculties be promoted, but never to such a degree as to -efface very marked peculiarities. - -In addition to the endless diversities that result from these varied -proportions and combinations, there is a manifest variety in the grades -of mind. Some races are much lower in the scale of being every way than -others, while the same disparity exists in individuals of the same race. - -The wisdom and benevolence of this arrangement is very manifest when -viewed in reference to the interests of a commonwealth. Where some must -lead and others follow, it is well that some have the love of power -strong, and others have it less. Where some must be rulers, to inflict -penalties as well as to apportion rewards, it is well that there be some -who have the sense of justice a leading principle. And so in the -developments of intellect. Some men are to follow callings where the -reasoning powers are most needed. Others are to adopt pursuits in which -taste and imagination are chiefly required; and thus the varied -proportions of these faculties become serviceable. - -And if it be true that the exercise of the social and moral faculties -secures the highest degrees of enjoyment, those disparities in mental -powers which give exercise to the virtues of compassion, self-denial, -fortitude, and benevolence in serving the weak, and the corresponding -exercises of gratitude, reverence, humility, and devotion in those who -are thus benefited, then we can see the wisdom and benevolence of this -gradation of mental capacity. - -Moreover, in a commonwealth perfectly organized, where the happiness of -the whole becomes that of each part, whatever tends to the highest -general good tends to the best interest of each individual member. This -being so, the lowest and humblest in the scale of being, in his -appropriate place, is happier than he could be by any other arrangement, -and happier than he could be if all were equally endowed. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -HABIT. - - -Habit is a facility in performing physical or mental operations, gained -by the repetition of such acts. As examples of this in _physical_ -operations may be mentioned the power of walking, which is acquired only -by a multitude of experiments; the power of speech, secured by a slow -process of repeated acts of imitation; and the power of writing, gained -in the same way. Success in every pursuit of life is attained by -oft-repeated attempts, which finally induce a habit. - -As examples of the formation of _intellectual_ habits may be mentioned -the facility gained in acquiring knowledge by means of repeated efforts, -and the accuracy and speed with which the process of reasoning is -performed after long practice in this art. - -As examples of _moral_ habits may be mentioned those which are formed by -the oft-repeated exercise of self-government, justice, veracity, -obedience, and industry. The will, as has been shown, gains a facility -in controlling specific volitions and in yielding obedience to the laws -of right action by constant use, as much as all the other mental powers. - -The happiness of man in the present state of existence depends not so -much upon the circumstances in which he is placed, or the capacities -with which he is endowed, as upon the _formation of his habits_. A man -might have the organ of sight, and be surrounded with all the beauties -of nature, and yet, if he did not form the habit of judging of the form, -distance, and size of bodies, most of the pleasure and use from this -sense would be wanting. The world and all its beauties would be a mere -confused mass of colors. - -If the habits of walking and of speech were not acquired, these -faculties and the circumstances for employing them would not furnish the -enjoyment they were designed to secure. - -It is the formation of _intellectual_ habits by mental discipline and -study, also, which opens vast resources for enjoyment that otherwise -would be forever closed. And it is by practicing obedience to parents -that _moral_ habits of subordination are formed, which are indispensable -to our happiness as citizens, and as subjects of the divine government. -There is no enjoyment which can be pointed out which is not, to a -greater or less extent, dependent upon this principle. - -The influence of habit in regard to the _law of sacrifice_ is especially -interesting. The experience of multitudes of our race shows that such -tastes and habits may be formed in obeying this law, that what was once -difficult and painful becomes easy and pleasant. - -But this ability to secure enjoyment through habits of self-control and -self-denial, induced by long practice, so far as experience shows, could -never be secured by any other method. - -That the highest kinds of happiness are to be purchased by more or less -_voluntary sacrifice_ and _suffering_ to procure good for others seems -to be a part of that nature of things which we at least may suppose has -existed from eternity. We can conceive of the eternal First Cause only -as we imagine a mind on the same pattern as our own in constitutional -capacities, but indefinitely enlarged in extent and action. Knowledge, -wisdom, power, justice, benevolence, and rectitude must be the same in -the Creator as in ourselves, at least so far as we can conceive; and, as -the practice of self-sacrifice and suffering for the good of others is -our highest conception of virtue, it is impossible to regard the Eternal -Mind as all-perfect without involving this idea. - -The formation of the habits depends chiefly upon the leading desire or -governing purpose, because whatever the mind desires the most it will -_act_ the most to secure, and thus by repeated acts will form its -habits. The _character_ of every individual, therefore, as before -indicated, depends upon the mode of seeking happiness selected by the -will. Thus the ambitious man has selected the attainment of power and -admiration as his leading purpose, and whatever modes of enjoyment -interfere with this are sacrificed. The sensual man seeks his happiness -from the various gratifications of sense, and sacrifices other modes of -enjoyment that interfere with this. The man devoted to intellectual -pursuits, and to seeking reputation and influence through this medium, -sacrifices other modes of enjoyment to secure this gratification. The -man who has devoted his affections and the service of his life to God -and the good of his fellow-men sacrifices all other enjoyments to secure -that which results from the fulfillment of such obligations. Thus a -person is an ambitious man, a sensual man, a man of literary ambition, -or a man of piety and benevolence, according to the governing purpose or -leading desire of the mind. - -There is one fact in regard to the choice of the leading object of -desire, or the governing purpose of life, which is very important. -Certain modes of enjoyment, in consequence of repetition, increase the -desire, but lessen the capacity of happiness from this source; while, in -regard to others, gratification increases the desire, and at the same -time increases the capacity for enjoyment. - -The enjoyments through the senses are of the first kind. It will be -found, as a matter of universal experience, that where this has been -chosen as the main purpose of life, though the desire for such pleasures -is continually increased, yet, owing to the physical effects of -excessive indulgence, the capacity for enjoyment is decreased. Thus the -man who so degrades his nature as to make the pleasures of eating and -drinking the great pursuit of life, while his desires never abate, finds -his zest for such enjoyments continually decreasing, and a perpetual -need for new devices to stimulate appetite and awaken the dormant -capacities. The pleasures of sense always pall from repetition--grow -"stale, flat, and unprofitable," though the deluded being who has -slavishly yielded to such appetites feels himself bound by chains of -habit, which, even when enjoyment ceases, seldom are broken. - -The pleasures derived from the exercise of power, when its attainment -becomes the master passion, are also of this description. The statesman, -the politician, the conqueror, are all seeking for this, and desire -never abates while any thing of the kind remains to be attained. We do -not find that enjoyment increases in proportion as power is secured. On -the contrary, it seems to cloy in possession. Alexander, the conqueror -of the world, when he had gained _all_, wept that objects of desire were -extinct, and that possession could not satisfy. - -But there are other sources of happiness, which, while sought, the -desire ever continues, and possession only increases the capacity for -enjoyment. Of this class is the susceptibility of happiness from _giving -and receiving affection_. Here, the more is given and received, the more -is the power of giving and receiving increased. We find that this -principle outlives every other, and even the decays of nature itself. -When tottering age on the borders of the grave is just ready to resign -its wasted tenement, often from its dissolving ashes the never-dying -spark of affection has burst forth with new and undiminished lustre. -This is that immortal fountain of happiness always increased by -imparting, never surcharged by receiving. - -Another principle which increases both desire and capacity by exercise -is the power of enjoyment from being the _cause of happiness to others_. -Never was an instance known of regret for devotion to the happiness of -others. On the contrary, the more this holy and delightful principle is -in exercise, the more the desires are increased, and the more are the -susceptibilities for enjoyment from this source enlarged. While the -votaries of pleasure are wearing down with the exhaustion of abused -nature, and the votaries of ambition are sighing over its thorny wreath, -the benevolent spirit is exulting in the success of its plans of good, -and reaching forth to still purer and more accomplished bliss. - -This principle is especially true in regard to the practice of -rectitude. The more the leading aim of the mind is devoted to _right -feeling and action_, or to obedience to all the laws of God, the more -both the desire and the capacity of enjoyment from this source are -increased. - -But there is another fact in regard to habit which has an immense -bearing on the well-being of our race. When a habit of seeking happiness -in some one particular mode is once formed, the change of this habit -becomes difficult just in proportion to the degree of repetition which -has been practiced. A habit once formed, it is no longer an easy matter -to choose between the mode of securing happiness chosen and another -which the mind may be led to regard as much superior. Thus, in -gratifying the appetite, a man may feel that his happiness is -continually diminishing, and that, by sacrificing this passion, he may -secure much greater enjoyment from another source; yet the force of -habit is such that decisions of the will perpetually yield to its power. - -Thus, also, if a man has found his chief enjoyment in that admiration -and applause of men so ardently desired, even after it has ceased to -charm, and seems like emptiness and vanity, still, when nobler objects -of pursuit are offered, the chains of habit bind him to his wonted path. -Though he looks and longs for the one that his conscience and his -intellect assure him is brightest and best, the conflict with bad habit -ends in fatal defeat and ruin. It is true that every habit can be -corrected and changed, but nothing requires greater firmness of purpose -and energy of will; for it is not _one_ resolution of mind that can -conquer habit: it must be a constant series of long-continued efforts. - -The influence of habit in reference to _emotions_ deserves special -attention as having a direct influence upon character and happiness. All -pleasurable emotions of mind, being grateful, are indulged and -cherished, and are not weakened by repetition unless they become -excessive. If the pleasures of sense are indulged beyond a certain -extent, the bodily system is exhausted, and satiety is the consequence. -If the love of power and admiration is indulged to excess, so as to -become the leading purpose of life, they are found to be cloying. But -within certain limits all pleasurable emotions do not seem to lessen in -power by repetition. - -But in regard to painful emotions the reverse is true. The mind -instinctively resists or flies from them, so that after a habit of -suppressing such emotions is formed, until the susceptibility -diminishes, and sometimes appears almost entirely destroyed. Thus a -person often exposed to danger ceases to be troubled by fear, because he -forms a habit of suppressing it. A person frequently in scenes of -distress and suffering learns to suppress the emotions of painful -sympathy. The surgeon is an example of the last case, where, by repeated -operations, he has learned to suppress emotions until they seldom recur. -A person inured to guilt gradually deadens the pangs of remorse, until -the conscience becomes "seared as with a hot iron." Thus, also, with the -emotion of shame. After a person has been repeatedly exposed to -contempt, and feels that he is universally despised, he grows callous to -any such emotions. - -The mode by which the mind succeeds in forming such a habit seems to be -by that implanted principle which makes ideas that are most in -consonance with the leading desire of the mind become vivid and -distinct, while those that are less interesting fade away. Now no person -desires to witness pain except from the hope of relieving it, unless it -be that, in anger, the mind is sometimes gratified with the infliction -of suffering. But, in ordinary cases, the sight of suffering is avoided -except where relief can be administered. In such cases, the desire of -administering relief becomes the leading one, so that the mind is turned -off from the view of the suffering to dwell on conceptions of modes of -relief. Thus the surgeon and physician gradually form such habits that -the sight of pain and suffering lead the mind to conception of modes of -relief, whereas a mind not thus interested dwells on the more painful -ideas. - -The mind, also, can form a habit of inattention to our own bodily -sufferings by becoming interested in other things, and thus painful -sensations go unnoticed. Some persons will go for years with a chronic -headache, and yet appear to enjoy nearly as much as those who never -suffer from such a cause. Again: those who violate conscience seem to -relieve themselves from suffering by forming a habit of dwelling on -other themes, and of turning the mind entirely from those obligations -which, when contemplated, would upbraid and pain them. Thus, too, the -sense of shame is lost. A habit is formed of leading the mind from -whatever pains it to dwell on more pleasurable contemplations. - -The habits of life are all formed either from the desire to secure -happiness or to avoid pain, and the _fear of suffering_ is found to be a -much more powerful principle than the _desire of happiness_. The soul -flies from pain with all its energies, even when it will be inert at the -sight of promised joy. As an illustration of this, let a person be fully -convinced that the gift of two new senses would confer as great an -additional amount of enjoyment as is now secured by the eye and ear, and -the promise of this future good would not stimulate with half the energy -that would be caused by the threat of instant and entire blindness and -deafness. - -If, then, the mind is stimulated to form good habits and to avoid the -formation of evil ones most powerfully by painful emotions, when their -legitimate object is not effected they continually decrease in -vividness, and the designed benefit is lost. If a man is placed in -circumstances of danger, and fear leads to habits of caution and -carefulness, the object of exciting this emotion is accomplished, and -the diminution of it is attended with no evil. But if fear is -continually excited, and no such habits are formed, then the -susceptibility is lessened, while the good to be secured by it is lost. -So, also, with emotions of sympathy. If we witness pain and suffering, -and it induces habits of active devotion to the good of those who -suffer, the diminution of the susceptibility is a blessing and no evil. -But if we simply indulge emotions, and do not form the habits they were -intended to secure, the power of sympathy is weakened, and the designed -benefit is lost. Thus, again, with shame: if this painful emotion does -not lead us to form habits of honor and rectitude, it is continually -weakened by repetition, and the object for which it was bestowed is not -secured. And so with remorse: if this emotion is awakened without -leading to habits of benevolence and virtue, it constantly decays in -power, and the good it would have secured is forever lost. - -It does not appear, however, that the power of emotion in the soul is -thus _destroyed_. Nothing is done but to form habits of inattention to -painful emotions by allowing the mind to be engrossed in other and more -pleasurable subjects. This appears from the fact that the most hardened -culprits, when brought to the hour of death, where all plans of future -good cease to charm the mental eye, are often overwhelmed with the most -vivid emotions of sorrow, shame, remorse, and fear. And often, in the -course of life, there are seasons when the soul returns from its pursuit -of deluding visions to commune with itself in its own secret chambers. -At such seasons, shame, remorse, and fear take up their abode in their -long-deserted dwelling, and ply their scorpion whips till they are -obeyed, and the course of honor and virtue is resumed, or till the -distracted spirit again flies abroad for comfort and relief. - -There is a great diversity in human character, resulting from the -diverse proportions and combinations of those powers of mind which the -race have in common. At the same time, there is a variety in the scale -of being, or relative grade of each mind. While all are alike in the -common faculties of the human mind, some have every faculty on a much -larger scale than others, while some are of a very humble grade. - -The principle of habit has very great influence in modifying and -changing these varieties. Thus, by forming habits of intellectual -exercise, a mind of naturally humble proportions can be elevated -considerably above one more highly endowed by natural constitution. So -the training of some particular intellectual faculty, which by nature is -deficient, can bring it up nearer to the level of other powers less -disciplined by exercise. - -In like manner, the natural susceptibilities can be increased, -diminished, or modified by habit. Certain tastes, that had little power, -can be so cultivated as to overtop all others. - -So of the moral nature: it can be so exercised that a habit will be -formed which will generate a strength and prominency that nature did not -impart. - -The will itself is also subject to this same principle. A strong will, -that is trained to yield obedience to law in early life, acquires an -ease and facility in doing it which belongs ordinarily to weak minds, -and yet can retain all its vigor. And a mind that is trained to bring -subordinate volitions into strict and ready obedience to a generic -purpose, acquires an ease and facility in doing this which was not a -natural endowment. - -Thus it appears that by the principle of _habit_ every mind is furnished -with the power of elevating itself in the scale of being, and of -modifying and perfecting the proportions and combinations of its -constitutional powers. - -And sometimes the result is that there is no mode of distinguishing -between the effects of habit and the natural organization. - -One of the most important results of habit is its influence on _faith_ -or _belief_. Those persons who practice methods of false reasoning, who -turn away from evidence and follow their feelings in forming opinions, -eventually lose the power of sure, confiding belief. - -On the contrary, an honest, conscientious steadiness in seeking the -truth and in yielding to evidence secures the firmest and most reliable -convictions, and that peace of mind which alone results from believing -the truth. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -MIND AS PROOF OF ITS CREATOR'S DESIGNS. - - -We have seen that the mind of man, by its very constitution, has certain -implanted truths which it believes from the necessity of its nature, and -that these are the foundation of all acquired knowledge, and the guide -to all truth. - -We have seen that, independently of a revelation, we have no other -sources of knowledge except these intuitions, the experience of -ourselves and others, and the deductions of reasoning. - -We have examined as to the amount of knowledge to be gained from these -sources in regard to the nature of mind, the laws of the system of which -it is the essential part, the immortality of the soul, our prospects -after death, and the character and designs of our Creator. - -In discussing the last topic, it has been assumed that the grand and -ultimate design of the Creator is "to produce the greatest possible -happiness with the least possible evil." - -We have examined, at some length, the chief faculties and laws of the -human mind, for the purpose of exhibiting their adaptation to this -design. - -We now proceed to a brief review of this portion as a _summing up_ of -the evidence sustaining the proposition that the grand end of the -Creator, in forming mind, is _to produce the greatest possible happiness -with the least possible evil_. - -As preliminary, however, we need to refer to one principle. - -Whenever we find any contrivances all combining to secure a certain good -result, which, at the same time, involves some degree of inevitable -evil, and then discover that there are contrivances to diminish and -avoid this evil, we properly infer that the author intended to secure -_as much of the good with as little of the evil as possible_. For -example, a traveler finds a deserted mine, and all around he discovers -contrivances for obtaining gold, and, at the same time, other -contrivances for getting rid of the earth mixed with it. The inevitable -inference would be that the author of these contrivances designed to -secure as much gold with as little earth as possible; and should any one -say that he could have had more gold and less earth if he wished it, the -answer would be that there is no evidence of this assertion, but direct -evidence against it. - -Again: should we discover a piece of machinery in which every -contrivance tended to secure _speed_ in movement, produced by the -_friction_ of wheels against a rough surface, and at the same time other -contrivances were found for diminishing all friction that was useless, -we should infer that the author designed to secure the _greatest -possible speed_ with the _least possible friction_. - -In like manner, if we can show that mind is a contrivance that acts by -the influence of fear of evil, and that _pain_ seems as indispensable to -the action of a free agent as friction is to motion; if we can show that -there is no contrivance in mind or matter which is designed to secure -suffering as its primary end; if we can, on the contrary, show that the -direct end of all the organizations of mind and matter is to produce -happiness; if we can show that it is only the _wrong action_ of mind -that involves most of the pain yet known, so that right action, in its -place, would secure only happiness; if we can show contrivances for -diminishing pain, and also contrivances for increasing happiness by -means of the inevitable pain involved in the system of things, then the -just conclusion will be gained that the Author of the system of mind and -matter designed "to produce the greatest possible happiness with the -least possible evil."[3] - -In the review which follows, we shall present evidence exhibiting all -these particulars. - -The only way in which we learn the nature of a thing is to observe its -qualities and actions. This is true of mind as much as it is of matter. -Experience and observation teach that the nature of mind is such that -_the fear of suffering_ is indispensable to secure a large portion of -the enjoyment within reach of its faculties, and that the highest modes -of enjoyment can not be secured except by sacrifice, and thus by more or -less suffering. - -This appears to be an inevitable combination, as much so as friction is -inevitable in machinery. - -We have the evidence of our own consciousness that it is fear of evil to -ourselves or to others that is the _strongest_ motive power to the mind. -If we should find that no pain resulted from burning up our own bodies, -or from drowning, or from any other cause; if every one perceived that -no care, trouble, or pain resulted from losing all kinds of enjoyment, -the effort to seek it would be greatly diminished. - -If we could desire good enough to exert ourselves to seek it, and yet -should feel no discomfort in failing; if we could _lose every thing_, -and feel no sense of pain or care, the stimulus to action which -experience has shown to be most powerful and beneficent would be lost. - -We find that abundance of ease and prosperity enervates mental power, -and that mind increases in all that is grand and noble, and also in the -most elevating happiness, by means of danger, care, and pain. We may -properly infer, then, that evil is a necessary part of the experience of -a perfectly-acting mind. - -So strong is the conviction that _painful penalties_ are indispensable, -that the kindest parents and the most benevolent rulers are the most -sure to increase rather than diminish those that are already involved in -the existing nature of things. - -Again: without a revelation we have no knowledge of any kind of mind but -by inference from our experience in this state of being. All we know of -the _Eternal First Cause_ is by a process of reasoning, inferring that -his nature must be _like_ the only minds of which we have any knowledge. -We assume, then, that he is a free agent, regulated by desire for -happiness and fear of evil. - -We thus come to the conclusion that this organization of mind is a part -of the _fixed and eternal nature of things_, and does not result from -the will of the Creator. His own is the eternal pattern of an -all-perfect mind, and our own are formed on this perfect model, with -susceptibilities to pain as an indispensable motive power in gaining -happiness. - -We will now recapitulate some of the particulars in the laws and -constitution of mind which tend to establish the position that its -Creator's grand design is "to produce the greatest possible happiness -with the least possible evil." - - -_Intellectual Powers._ - -First, then, in reference to the earliest exercise of mind in -_sensation_. The eye might have been so made that light would inflict -pain, and the ear so that sound would cause only discomfort. And so of -all the other senses. - -But the condition of a well-formed, healthy infant is a most striking -illustration of the adaptation of the senses to receive enjoyment. Who -could gaze on the countenance of such a little one, as its various -senses are called into exercise, without such a conviction? The delight -manifested as the light attracts the eye, or as pleasant sounds charm -the ear, or as the limpid nourishment gratifies its taste, or as gentle -motion and soft fondlings soothe the nerves of touch, all testify to the -benevolent design of its Maker. - -Next come the pleasures of _perception_ as the infant gradually observes -the qualities of the various objects around, and slowly learns to -distinguish its mother and its playthings from the confused mass of -forms and colors. Then comes the gentle curiosity as it watches the -movement of its own limbs, and finally discovers that its own volitions -move its tiny fingers, while the grand idea that _it is itself a cause_ -is gradually introduced. - -Next come the varied intellectual pleasures as the several powers are -exercised in connection with the animate and material world around, in -acquiring the meaning of words, and in imitating the sounds and use of -language. The adult, in toiling over the dry lexicon, little realizes -the pleasure with which the little one is daily acquiring the -philosophy, grammar, and vocabulary of its mother tongue. - -A child who can not understand a single complete sentence, or speak an -intelligible phrase, will sit and listen with long-continued delight to -the simple enunciation of words, each one of which presents a picture to -his mind of a dog, a cat, a cow, a horse, a whip, a ride, and many other -objects and scenes that have given pleasure in the past; while the -single words, without any sentences, bring back, not only vivid -conceptions of these objects, but a part of the enjoyment with which -they have been connected. - -Then, as years pass by, the intellect more and more administers -pleasure, while the reasoning powers are developed, the taste -cultivated, the imagination exercised, the judgment employed, and the -memory stored with treasures for future enjoyment. - -In the proper and temperate use of the intellectual powers, there is a -constant succession of placid satisfaction, or of agreeable and often of -delightful emotions, while no one of these faculties is productive of -pain except in violating the laws of the mental constitution. - - -_The Susceptibilities._ - -In regard to the second general class of mental powers--_the -susceptibilities_--the first particular to be noticed is the ceaseless -and all-pervading _desire to gain happiness and escape pain_. This is -the mainspring of all voluntary activity; for no act of volition will -take place till some good is presented to gain, or some evil to shun. At -the same time, as has been shown, the desire to escape evil is more -potent and effective than the desire for good. Thousands of minds that -rest in passive listlessness, when there is nothing to stimulate but -hope of enjoyment, will exert every physical and mental power to escape -impending evil. The seasons of long-continued prosperity in nations -always tend to a deterioration of intellect and manhood. It is in -seasons of danger alone that fear wakes up the highest energies, and -draws forth the heroes of the race. - -Mind, then, is an existence having the power of that self-originating -action of _choice_ which constitutes free agency, while this power can -only be exercised when desires are excited to gain happiness or to -escape pain. This surely is the highest possible evidence that its -Author _intended_ mind should thus act. - -But a mind may act to secure happiness and avoid pain to itself, and yet -may gain only very low grades of enjoyment, while much higher are within -reach of its faculties. So, also, it may act to gain happiness for -itself as the chief end in such ways as to prevent or destroy the -happiness of others around. - -In reference to this, we find those susceptibilities which raise man to -the dignity of a moral being. - -In the first place, there is that _impression of the great design_ of -the Creator existing in every mind, either as a result of constitution -or of training, or of both united, which results in a feeling that -whatever lessens or destroys happiness is unfit and contrary to the -system of things. - -Next there is the power to balance pleasure and pain, and estimate the -compound result, both in reference to self and to the commonwealth. With -this is combined the feeling that whatever secures _the most_ good with -_the least_ evil is right and fit, and that the opposite is wrong and -unfitted to the nature of things. - -Next comes the _sense of justice_, which results in an impulse _to -discover the cause_ of good and evil, and when this cause is found to be -a voluntary agent, a consequent impulse to make returns of good for -good, and of evil for evil, and also to _proportion_ retributive rewards -or penalties to the amount of good or evil done. - -With this, also, is combined the feeling that those retributions should -be applied only where there was _voluntary_ power to have done -otherwise. When it is seen that there was no such power, the impulse to -reward or punish is repressed. - -Such is the deep conviction that such retributions are indispensable, -that where natural pains and penalties do not avail, others are -demanded, both in the family and in the commonwealth. - -Lastly, we find the susceptibility of _conscience_, which, by the very -framework of the mind itself, apportions the retributive pangs of -remorse for wrong doing, and the pleasure of self-approval for well -doing. These, too, are retributions never to be escaped, and the most -exquisite, both in elevated happiness and exquisite pain. The mind -carries about in itself its own certain and gracious remunerator--its -own inexorable prosecutor, judge, and executioner. - -This same design of the Creator may be most delightfully traced in what -may be called the _economy_ of happiness and pain. - -One particular of this is set forth at large in the chapter on the -_emotions of taste_. Here we find the mind formed not only to secure -multitudinous enjoyments through the nerves of sensation, but that, by -the principle of association, there is a perpetual _reproduction_ of -these emotions in connection with the colors, forms, sounds, and motions -with which they were originally associated. Thus there are perpetually -returning emotions of pleasure so recondite, so refined, so almost -infinite in variety and extent, and yet how little noticed or -understood! - -Another indication of the same kind is the peculiarity pointed out on -former pages, where it is shown that securing certain enjoyments which -tend to promote the _general_ happiness increases both desire and -capacity for enjoyment, while those that terminate in the individual -diminish by possession. Thus the enjoyment of power, which must, from -its nature, be confined to a few, diminishes by possession. Thus, too, -the pleasures of sense pall by indulgence. But the enjoyment resulting -from the exercise and reciprocation of love, and that resulting from -benevolent actions, and that which is included in a course of perfect -obedience to all the rules of rectitude, increases the capacity for -enjoyment. - -Another illustration of the same principle is exhibited in the chapter -on Habit, where it is seen that the power of pleasurable emotions -increases by repetition, while painful emotions decrease when the good -to be secured by their agency is attained. Thus _fear_ seems to protect -from danger till caution and habit render it needless, and then it -decreases. And so of other painful emotions. - -It is interesting to trace the same design in the constitution of minds -in _regard to each other_. We find that the purest and highest kind of -happiness is dependent on the mutual relations of minds. Thus the -enjoyment resulting from the discovery of intellectual and moral traits -in other minds--that resulting from giving and receiving affection--that -gained by sympathy, and by being the cause of happiness to others, and -that resulting from conscious rectitude, all are dependent on the -existence of other beings. - -Now we find that minds are relatively so constituted that _what one -desires, it is a source of happiness in another to bestow_. Thus one can -be pleased by the discovery of certain traits in other minds, while, in -return, the exhibition of these traits, and the consciousness that they -are appreciated, is an equal source of enjoyment. One mind seeks the -love of others, while these, in return, are desiring objects of -affection, and rejoice to confer the gift that is sought. The desire of -knowledge or the gratification of curiosity is another source of -pleasure, while satisfying this desire is a cause of enjoyment to those -around. How readily do mankind seize upon every opportunity to convey -interesting news to other minds! - -Again: we find that, both in sorrow and in joy, the mind seeks for the -sympathy of others, while this grateful and soothing boon it is -delightful to bestow. So, also, the consciousness of being the cause of -good to another sends joy to the heart, while the recipient is filled -with the pleasing glow of gratitude in receiving the benefit. The -consciousness of virtue in acting for the general good, instead of for -contracted, selfish purposes, is another source of happiness, while -those who witness its delightful results rejoice to behold and -acknowledge it. What bursts of rapturous applause have followed the -exhibition of virtuous self-sacrifice for the good of others from bosoms -who rejoiced in this display, and who could owe this pleasure to no -other cause than the natural constitution of mind, which is formed to be -made happy both in beholding and in exercising virtue. - -This same beneficial economy is manifested in a close analysis of all -that is included in the affections of _love_ and _gratitude_. - -It has been shown that, in the commencement of existence, the young mind -first learns the sources of good and evil to self, and its sole motives -are desire for its own enjoyment. - -Soon, however, it begins to experience the happiness resulting from the -relations of minds to each other, and then is developed the superior -power of _love_, and its importance as a regulating principle. - -In the analysis of this affection, it is seen to consist, first, in the -pleasurable emotions which arise in view of those traits of character in -another mind pointed out on previous pages. When these qualities are -discovered, the first result is emotions of pleasure in the -contemplation. Immediately there follows _a desire of good_ to the cause -of this pleasure. Next follows the desire of reciprocated -affection--that is, a desire is awakened _to become the cause of the -same pleasure_ to another; for the desire of _being loved_ is the desire -to be the cause of pleasurable emotions in another mind, in view of our -own good qualities. When we secure this desired appreciation, then -follows an increased _desire of good_ to the one who bestows it. - -Thus the affection of love is a combination of the action and reaction -of pleasurable emotions, all tending to awaken the desire of good to -another. This passion may become so intensified that it will become more -delightful to secure enjoyments to another than to procure them for -self. - -Gratitude is the emotion of pleasure toward the author of _voluntary_ -good to self, attended by a desire of good to the benefactor. This -principle can be added to augment the power of love. - -There is a foundation for a very important distinction in the analysis -of the principle of love. In what is thus far presented, we find that -the desire of good to another results solely from the fact that certain -mental qualities are _causes of pleasure to self_. Of course, this -desire ceases when those qualities cease to exist or cease to be -appreciated. This kind of love is the natural result of the constitution -of minds in their relations to each other, making it _easy and pleasant_ -to live for the good of another in return for the pleasure received from -their agreeable qualities and manifestations. - -But the highest kind of love consists in the _desire of good to another -without reference to any good received in return_. It is _good willing_. -It consists in an abiding feeling of desire for the happiness of another -mind. - -This principle exists as a natural impulse more or less powerful in -differently constituted minds. It is the cause of that pleasure which is -felt in the consciousness of being the cause of good to another. But -this natural impulse can be so developed and increased by voluntary -culture as to become the strongest impulse of the mind, and thus the -source of the highest and most satisfying enjoyments. In many minds this -becomes so strongly developed that securing happiness to others is -sought with far more earnestness and pleasure than any modes of -enjoyment that terminate solely in self. This analysis lays the -foundation for the distinction expressed by the terms the _love of -complacency_ and the _love of benevolence_. The first is the involuntary -result of good conferred on _self_; the last is a voluntary act. It is -good willing toward others without reference to self. - -The first can only exist where certain qualities are preserved and -appreciated in another mind. The second can result from voluntary -effort, and become the subject of law and penalties. - -We can never be justly required to love another mind with the love of -complacency except when qualities are perceived that, by the -constitution of mind, necessarily call forth such regard. But the love -of benevolence can be justly demanded from every mind toward every being -capable of happiness. - -Here it is important to discriminate more exactly in regard to the -principle of _benevolence_ and the principle of _rectitude_. - -It is seen that the benevolence which is the subject of rewards and -penalties as a voluntary act consists in _good willing_--that is, in -choosing the happiness of _other_ minds as the object of interest and -pursuit. - -But the principle of rectitude is more comprehensive in its nature. It -relates to obedience to _all_ the laws of the system of the -universe--those relating to ourselves as much as those relating to -others. It is true that, as obedience to these laws includes the -greatest possible amount of good with the least possible evil, both to -the individual and the commonwealth, the tendency of the two principles -is to the same result. But it may be the case that benevolence acts -contrary to the true rules of rectitude, and thus may mar rather than -promote happiness. A mind must not only choose to promote the greatest -possible happiness, but must choose _the right way_ of doing it. - -A very important particular to be considered is, that, while in the -physical and mental constitution there is not a single arrangement the -direct object of which is to produce suffering, the susceptibilities to -pain seem designed to protect and preserve, while the greater the need -the more strong is this protection. For example, in regard to physical -organization, fire is an element that is indispensable to the life, -comfort, and activity of man, and it must be accessible at all times and -places. But all its service arises from its power to dissolve and -destroy the body itself, as well as all things around it. Therefore the -pain connected with contact with fire is more acute than almost any -other. Thus even the youngest child is taught that care and caution -needful to protect its body from injury or destruction. - -Another fact in regard to the susceptibilities of pain is their frequent -_co-existence_ with the highest degrees of enjoyment. The experiences of -this life often present cases where the most elevated and ecstatic -happiness is combined with the keenest suffering, while such is the -nature of the case that the suffering is the chief cause of the -happiness thus secured. The highest illustration of this is in the -suffering of saints and martyrs, when they "rejoice to be counted worthy -to suffer shame," or when, amid torturing flames, they sing songs of -transport and praise. - -Even in common life it is constantly found that a certain relative -amount of happiness is felt to be more than a recompense for a given -amount of pain. This relative amount may be such that the evil involved, -though great, may count as nothing. Where there is a passionate -attachment, for example, the lover exults in the labor and suffering -that will joyfully be received as a proof of affection and secure the -compensating return. - -It is a very common fact that the existence of painful emotions _is -sought_, not for themselves, but as ministers to a kind of mental -excitement which is desired. This is the foundation of the pleasure -which is felt in tragic representations, and in poetry and novels that -present scenes of distress. The little child will again and again ask -for the tale of the Babes in the Wood, though each rehearsal brings -forth tears; and the mature matron or sage will spend hours over tales -that harrow the feelings or call forth sighs. This also is the -foundation of that kind of music called the _minor key_, in which -certain sounds bring emotions of sadness or sorrow. - -Another striking fact in regard to the desire for pain is the emotions -that are felt by the most noble and benevolent minds at the sight of -cruelty and injustice. At such scenes, the desire for inflicting pain on -the guilty offender amounts to a passion which nothing can allay but -retributive justice. And the more benevolent the mind, the stronger this -desire for retributive evil to another. - -Thus it appears that the mind is so made as to desire pain both for -itself and for others; not in itself considered, but as the -indispensable means to gain some consequent enjoyment. - -The highest kinds of happiness result from painful emergencies. The -transports of love, gratitude, and delight, when some benefactor rescues -suffering thousands from danger and evil, could exist in no other way. -All the long train of virtues included in patient toil for the good of -others, in heroic daring, in brave adventure, in fortitude, in patience, -in resignation, in heavenly meekness, in noble magnanimity, in sublime -self-sacrifice, all involve the idea of trial, danger, and suffering. It -is only the highest and noblest class of minds that can fully understand -that the most blissful of all enjoyments are those which are bought with -pain. - -But the most cheering feature in the constitution of mind is all that is -included in the principle of _habit_. We see in the commencement of -existence that every action of mind and body is imperfect, and more or -less difficult, while each effort to secure right action increases the -facility of so doing. We see that, owing to this principle, every act of -obedience to law makes such a course easier. The intellect, the -susceptibilities, the will, all come under this benign influence. Habit -may so diminish the difficulty of self-denial for our own good that the -pain entirely ceases; and self-sacrifice for the good of others may so -develop benevolence and generate a habit that it will become pleasure -without pain. There are those, even in this world, who have so attained -this capacity of living in the life of those around them that the -happiness of others becomes their own, and then there is even less pain -in self-denial for the good of others than for that of self. When this -habit of mind is attained, the happiness of the commonwealth becomes the -portion of the individual. - -[3] Note B. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -SOCIAL AND MATERIAL PROOFS OF THE CREATOR'S DESIGNS. - - -We have now presented the organization of mind as the chief evidence of -the grand design of its Creator in forming all things. We now will trace -the evidences of the same beneficent object in the social and material -organizations. - -First, then, in regard to the domestic relations. We have seen that -while all happiness depends on obedience to laws, every mind comes into -existence in perfect ignorance of them, and without any power to learn -what is good or evil but by experience and instruction. The intention of -the Creator that each new-born being should be taught these laws and -trained to obey them, is clearly seen in the first and highest domestic -relation. In this we see two mature minds, who have themselves been -trained to understand these laws, drawn by sweet and gentle influences -to each other. They go apart from all past ties of kindred; they have -one home, one name, one common interest in every thing. The one who has -most physical strength goes forth to provide supplies; the delicate one -remains behind, by domestic ministries to render home the centre of all -attractions. - -Then comes the beautiful, helpless infant, of no use to any one, and -demanding constant care, labor, and attention. And yet, with its -profound ignorance, its tender weakness, its delicate beauty, its utter -helplessness, its entire dependence, how does it draw forth the -strongest feelings of love and tenderness, making every toil and care a -delight! And thus, month after month, both parents unite to cherish and -support, while, with unceasing vigilance, they train the new-born mind -to understand and obey the laws of the system into which it is thus -ushered. Its first lessons are to learn to take care of its own body. -And when the far-off penalty of pain can not be comprehended by the -novice, the parent invents new penalties to secure habits of care and -obedience. During all this period the great lesson of _sacrifice_ -constantly occurs. The child must eat what is _best_, not what it -desires. It must go to bed when it wants to sit up. It must stay in the -house when it wants to go out. It must not touch multitudes of things -which it wishes thus to investigate. And so the habits of self-denial, -obedience, and faith in the parents are gradually secured, while the -knowledge of the laws of the system around are slowly learned. - -But the higher part of the law of sacrifice soon begins to make its -demands. The child first learns of this law _by example_, in that of -_the mother_, that most perfect illustration of self-sacrificing love. -Then comes a second child, when the first-born must practice on this -example. It must give up its place in the mother's bosom to another; it -must share its sweets and toys with the new-comer; it must join in -efforts to protect, amuse, and instruct the helpless one. And thus the -family is the constant school for training ignorant, inexperienced mind -in the laws of the system of which it is a part, especially in the great -law of self-control and of self-sacrifice for the good of others. - -Next comes the discipline of the school and the neighborhood, when the -child is placed among his peers to be taught new rules of justice, -benevolence, and self-sacrifice for the general good. - -Next come the relations of the body politic, for which labors are -demanded and pain is to be endured under the grand law of sacrifice, -that the individual is to subordinate his own interests and wishes to -the greater general good, and that the interests of the majority are to -control those of the minority. - -Lastly, the whole world is to be taken into the estimate, and the -nations are to be counted as members of one great family of man, for -which every portion is to make sacrifices. Thus, as age, and experience, -and habits of obedience to the laws of rectitude increase, the duties -and obligations grow more numerous and complicated. But the same grand -principle is more and more developed, that each individual is to seek -the greatest possible happiness with the least possible evil, for the -vast whole as well as each subordinate part, while _self_ is to receive -only its just and proper share. - -The same great design of the Creator can be detected also in specific -organizations, by which minds so differ from each other as to fit them -for the diverse positions and relations that the common good demands. If -all were exactly alike in the amount of constitutional powers and in the -proportionate combinations, it can easily be seen that the general -result would be far less favorable to the happiness of the whole. But as -it is, some have the love of power very large, and love to lead and -control; others have it small, and love to follow. Some have elevated -intellect, and love to teach; others have humbler capacities, and better -love humbler pursuits. - -These varied combinations also give scope to the virtues of pity, -tenderness, patience, mercy, justice, self-denial, and many other graces -that could not be called into being without all the disparities, social, -domestic, intellectual, and moral, that we find existing. Meantime, the -principle of habit and the power of the will give abundant opportunities -for modifying these natural peculiarities to accommodate to varying -circumstances. - -To these indications of benevolent design may be added the organization -of the bodily system, and the constitution of the material world -without. In examining the body we inhabit, so nicely adjusted, so -perfectly adapted to our necessities, so beautifully and harmoniously -arranged, so "fearfully and wonderfully made," it is almost beyond the -power of numbers to express the multiplied contrivances for ease, -comfort, and delight. - -We daily pursue our business and our pleasure, thoughtless of the -thousand operations which are going on, and the busy mechanism employed -in securing the objects we desire. The warm current that is flowing from -the centre to the extremities, with its life-giving energies, and then -returning to be purified and again sent forth; the myriads of branching -nerves that are the sensitive discerners of good or ill; the unnumbered -muscles and tendons that are contracting and expanding in all parts of -our frame; the nicely-adjusted joints, and bands, and ligaments, that -sustain, and direct, and support; the perpetual expansion and -contraction of the vital organ; the thousand hidden contrivances and -operations of the animal frame, all are quietly and constantly -performing their generous functions, and administering comfort and -enjoyment to the conscious spirit that dwells within. - -Nor is the outer world less busy in performing its part in promoting the -great design of the Creator. The light of suns and stars is traversing -the ethereal expanse in search of those for whom it was created; for -them it gilds the scenes of earth, and is reflected in ten thousand -forms of beauty and of skill. The trembling air is waiting to minister -its aid, fanning with cool breezes, or yielding the warmth of spring, -sustaining the functions of life, and bearing on its light wing the -thoughts that go forth from mind to mind, and the breathings of -affection that are given and returned. For this design earth is sending -forth her exuberance, the waters are emptying their stores, and the -clouds pouring forth their treasures. All nature is busy with its -offerings of fruits and flowers, its wandering incense, its garnished -beauty, and its varied songs. Within and without, above, beneath, and -around, the same Almighty Beneficence is found still ministering to the -wants and promoting the happiness of the minds He has formed forever to -desire and pursue this boon. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -RIGHT MODE OF SECURING THE OBJECT FOR WHICH MIND WAS CREATED. - - -Having set forth the object for which the Creator formed mind, we are -thus furnished with the means for deciding as to the _right mode of its -action_ in obtaining this object. We may discover the design of a most -curious machine, and perceive that, if it is _rightly regulated_, it -will secure that end; while, if it is worked wrong, it will break itself -to pieces, and destroy the very object which it was formed to secure. - -The same may be seen to be as true of mind as it is of material -organization, and the question then is most pertinent, What is that mode -of mental action which will most perfectly secure the end for which mind -is made? - -We have seen that the self-determining power of choice is the -distinctive attribute of mind, and that all the other powers are -dependent on this, and regulated by it. We have seen that the current of -the thoughts, and the nature and power of the desires and emotions, are -also controlled by the generic ruling purpose, or chief interest of the -mind. - -This being so, then the only way in which mind can act to secure the -object for which it is made is _to choose that object for chief end or -ruling purpose, and actually carry out this choice in all subordinate -volitions_. - -We will now present the evidence gained from experience, as well as what -we should infer from the known laws of mind, to show what the result -would be in _a system of minds_ where each mind should thus act. - -Let us suppose, then, a commonwealth in which every mind is regulated by -a ruling purpose to _act right_, which actually controls every specific -volition. Each mind then would obey all those laws which will secure to -the whole community and to each individual the greatest possible amount -of happiness with the least possible evil. - -To do this of necessity involves the idea that each mind must _know what -are all the laws of the system_; for no one can choose to obey laws -until laws are known. - -Let the result on a single mind be first contemplated. In the first -place, all the trains of thought would be regulated by the _chief -desire_, which would be to make the most possible happiness with the -least possible evil. Of course, all those ideas that were most consonant -with this ruling passion would become vivid and distinct; and as these -ideas also would be connected with the _strongest emotions_, the two -chief causes that regulate association would combine to secure constant -thought and intellectual activity to promote the common welfare as the -chief object, while self would have only its true and proper estimation -and attention. There would be no need of effort to regulate thought and -emotion, for they would all flow naturally to the grand and right -object. - -Next suppose a commonwealth in which every mind had its intellect, -desires, and emotions, and all its specific volitions thus regulated by -the grand aim of making the most possible happiness, guarded, too, by -unerring judgment, so as to make no miscalculation; what would be the -state of things, so far as we can ascertain by past experience and by -reasoning from the known nature of things? - -First, then, in reference to the susceptibilities of sensation. If all -should never touch any food but that which would expose to no danger or -excess; if they never encountered any needless hazard; if they exactly -balanced all the probabilities of good and evil, in every matter -relating to the pleasures of sense, and invariably chose that which -exposed to the _least_ danger; if every being around was anxiously -watchful in affording the results of observation, and in protecting -others from risk and exposure, it is probable that the amount of -sensitive enjoyment would be a thousand fold increased, while most of -the evils caused by improper food and drink, by needless exposure, by -negligence of danger, and by many other causes which now operate, would -cease. With the present constitution of body, which tends to decay, we -could not positively maintain that no suffering would be experienced, -but it is probable that the amount would be as a drop to the ocean -compared with what is now experienced. - -Under such a constitution of things, we can perceive, also, that there -would be no suffering from the painful emotions; for where each was -striving to attain the _greatest_ amount of good to all, there could be -no competition, no jealousy, no envy, no pride, no ambition, no anger, -no hatred; for there would be no occasion for any of these discordant -emotions. Nor could remorse harass, or shame overwhelm; for no -wickedness would be perpetrated, and no occasion of reproach occur. Nor -could fear intrude, where every mind was conscious that its own -happiness was the constant care of every one around. Nor could painful -sympathy exist, where so little pain was known. Nor could the weariness -of inactivity be felt, where all were engaged in acting for one noble -and common object, in which every faculty could be employed. Nor could -the mind suffer the pangs of ungratified desire, while the gratification -of its chief desire was the aim and object of all. So that, if all minds -should act unitedly and habitually on this principle, there would be no -exposure, except to sensitive pain, and this danger would be exceedingly -trifling. - -In the mean time, every source of happiness would be full and -overflowing. All sensitive enjoyments that would not cause suffering, -nor interfere with the happiness of others, would be gained; admiration -and affection would be given and reciprocated; the powers of body and -mind would be actively employed in giving and acquiring happiness; the -pleasure resulting from the exercise of physical and moral power would -be enjoyed, and employed to promote the enjoyment of others; the peace -of conscious rectitude would dwell in every bosom; the consciousness of -being the cause of happiness to others would send joy to the heart, -while sympathy in the general happiness would pour in its unmeasured -tide. But this happiness could not be perfect except in a commonwealth -where _every_ individual was perfectly conformed to the laws of -rectitude. A single mind that violated a single law would send a jar -through the whole sphere of benevolent and sympathizing beings. - -The next question is, How can mind be most successfully influenced to -right action? To answer this we must refer again to _experience_, and -inquire as to the methods which have been found most successful in -influencing the mind to right action. - -The first thing which experience teaches is, that it is indispensable to -right mental action that there should be _a knowledge and belief of the -truth_. We must have _true conceptions_ of reality of things, and of the -right mode of promoting the greatest possible happiness, before we have -power to pursue this course. - -But each mind, as it comes into existence, is a perfect blank in regard -to knowledge or experience of any kind. The only way to gain knowledge -is by experience and instruction. The knowledge secured by experience as -to the laws of a system so vast and complicated comes very slowly and -imperfectly. The chief reliance in the beginning of existence is on the -instructions of other minds. _Infallible teachers, and perfect faith or -belief in such teachers_, then, is the grand necessity of mind as it -begins existence. - -The next thing which experience shows to be effective in securing the -right action of mind is the _formation of right habits_. For this, also, -the new-made being is entirely dependent on those to whom is given its -early training. It comes into life without any knowledge and without any -habits, a creature of mere impulses and instincts. Its very first want -is not only infallible teachers, but patient educators, who shall, by -constant care and effort, form its physical, intellectual, social, and -moral habits. - -The next indispensable requisite to the right action of mind is the -existence of _a ruling generic purpose_ to obey all the laws of -rectitude. - -It has already been shown how all the powers of the mind are regulated -and controlled by the leading purpose, and that it is impossible to -bring all the desires, emotions, and subordinate volitions into right -action except by the power of such a principle. - -But experience has proved that such a generic purpose will not either be -originated or sustained except by the social influences of surrounding -minds through the principles of _love_, _gratitude_, _sympathy_, and -_example_. - -The power of these principles may be illustrated by supposing the case -of a mature mind already embarrassed with habits of self-indulgence and -selfishness. Let such a person be placed in the most endeared and -intimate communion with a being possessed of every possible attraction -which is delightful to the human mind. Let him feel that he is the -object of the most tender and devoted affection to such an exalted -friend, and, spite of his own faults and deficiencies, realize that his -own affection is desired and his communion sought. Let him, in all his -daily pursuits, be attended by the desired presence of the one in whom -his hopes centre and his affections repose; one in whom he sees every -possible exhibition of disinterestedness, tenderness, and love, not only -toward himself, but all other beings who come within the circle of such -benevolence. Let him discover that the practice of all that is excellent -and benevolent by himself is the object of unceasing desire to this -devoted friend. Let him discover that, to save him from the consequences -of some guilty act of selfishness, this friend had submitted to the most -painful sacrifices, and only asked as a return those efforts which were -necessary to overcome such pernicious habits. Let him feel that this -friend, though pained by his deficiencies, could forbear and forgive, -and continue his love in spite of them all. Let him know that his -attainment of perfect virtue was the object of intense desire, and was -watched with the most exulting joy by so good and so perfect a being, -and is it possible to conceive a stronger pressure of motive which could -be brought to act on a selfish mind? Would not every human being -exclaim, "Give me such a friend, and I should be selfish no more. His -presence and his love would be my strength in foiling every wrong desire -and in conquering every baneful habit." - -This illustration enables us to realize more clearly the power of love -and gratitude toward another mind, and the reflex influence of love of -sympathy and of example. Could the young mind be placed under the -training of such minds, and in circumstances where all the rules of -right and wrong were perfectly understood, it can be seen that _the -habits_ would early be formed aright, and that the difficulties against -which the mature mind has to struggle would be escaped. - -Could we suppose a community of such elevated mature educators, with -young minds of various degrees of advancement under their training, it -can be seen that the social influences of all would produce a moral -atmosphere that would add great power to the individual influences. What -every body loves, honors, and admires, secures a moral force over young -minds almost invincible, even when it sustains false and wicked customs. -How much greater this power when it co-operates with the intellect, the -moral sense, and the will in leading to right action! - -The result of all this is to show, as the result of reason and -experience, that it is indispensable to the perfectly right action of -mind to secure _infallible and perfect educators_. - -Meantime, the degree in which any individual mind, or any community, has -or will approach to such perfection, depends entirely on the extent to -which such a character can be secured in those who are to train young -minds. The history of individual families and of large communities shows -that their advance, both in intellectual and moral development, has -exactly corresponded with the character of those who educated the young. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -WRONG ACTION OF MIND AND ITS CAUSES. - - -We have exhibited the _object_ for which mind was created, and the _mode -of action_ by which alone this object can be secured. - -We next inquire in regard to the wrong action of mind; its causes and -its results as learned by reason and experience. - -According to the principles set forth, a mind acts wrong whenever it -transgresses any law. The grand law is that of _sacrifice_, by which -every mode of enjoyment is to be relinquished which does not tend to the -greatest possible happiness with the least possible evil. - -Having set forth those influences or causes which tend to secure the -right action of mind, we are enabled thus to indicate what are the -_causes of its wrong action_. - -The first and leading cause is a want of knowledge of the truth and a -belief of error. We begin existence without knowledge of any kind, and -without any power to receive instruction from others. The newborn mind -is a mere unit of impulses and instincts, with an intellect entirely -undeveloped, and a will which never can act intelligently. It is -entirely dependent for its experience, safety, enjoyment, and knowledge -of all kinds on those around. As it gains by experience and training, -much of its knowledge and belief is correct, and many of its mental acts -are right; but a large portion of its actions are wrong, and many of -them inevitably so. - -And here we must recognize again the distinction which our moral nature -demands between wrong actions that result from unavoidable ignorance, -and those which are committed intelligently and which violate -conscience. In regard to the first class, the natural penalties are -inevitable, and the justice of them involves the great question of the -Creator's character and designs. In regard to those that violate -conscience, our moral nature, as has been shown, leads us not only to -approve additional penalties, but to demand them. - -The violations of law which are sins of ignorance commence with the -earliest period of existence. Owing to its helpless ignorance, often the -little child can no more help acting wrong than it can help thinking and -feeling. - -A second cause of wrong action is false teachings. Although a large -portion of the instruction given to the young, especially in regard to -physical laws, are true, yet the infant commences life among imperfectly -instructed beings, who often communicate error believing it to be truth. -Meantime the little one has no power of correcting these errors, and -thus again is inevitably led to wrong action. - -A third cause of wrong action is the want of good habits and the early -formation of bad ones. As a habit is a facility of action _gained by -repetition_, of course, at first, there can be no habits. And then what -the habits shall be is entirely decided by the opinions and conduct of -its educators. While some habits are formed aright, others are formed -wrong, and thus the disability of nature is increased instead of -diminished. - -The next cause of wrong action is those social influences of other minds -that have most power both in securing and sustaining right action. In -the previous chapter we have illustrated the power of the principles of -_love_, _gratitude_, _sympathy_, and _example_ in securing right action. - -The same powerful influences exist in reference to wrong action. The -child who loves its parents and playmates is not only taught to believe -wrong action to be right, but has all the powerful influences which -example, sympathy, love, and gratitude can combine to lead to the same -wrong courses. Thus, to the natural ignorance of inexperienced mind, to -false instructions, and to bad habits, are often added these most -powerful of all influences. - -The next cause of wrong action is the want of a ruling purpose to do -right. It has been shown that all the powers of the intellect and all -the susceptibilities can be regulated by a generic ruling purpose, and -that it is impossible, according to the nature of mind, to regulate it -any other way. - -When such a purpose exists, and its object is _any_ other except the -right and true one, it is as impossible for a mind to act right as it is -for a machine to fulfill its design when the main wheel is turned the -wrong way. - -That such a purpose does not exist in the new-born mind, and that it -must be a considerable time before it is possible, in the nature of -things, to be originated, needs no attempt to illustrate. Such a purpose -is dependent on knowledge of truth, on habits, and these on the -character of the educators of mind, and on other surrounding social -influences. - -These are the chief causes of the wrong action of mind as they have been -developed by experience. - -In the next chapters we shall consider the results of the wrong action -of mind as they have been exhibited in the experience of mankind, and as -they are to be anticipated in a future world. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -WRONG ACTION OF MIND, AND ITS RESULTS IN THIS LIFE. - - -We have examined into the causes of the wrong action of mind, and have -found them to consist in the want of knowledge, want of habits, want of -social influences from other minds, and want of a right governing -purpose, all of which, so far as reason and experience teach, alone -could be secured by perfect and infallible teachers and educators in a -perfect commonwealth. - -We are now to inquire in regard to the wrong action of mind and its -results in this life. - -The first point to be noticed is the fact that from the first there is -in every intelligent mind _a sense of entire inability_ to obey the laws -of the system in which it is placed. - -This is true not merely in reference to that breach of law which is the -inevitable result of ignorance, but of that also which involves a -violation of conscience. Where is the mother who has not heard the -distressed confession, even from the weeping infant, that he was happier -in doing right than in doing wrong, that he wished to do well, and yet -that he was constantly doing evil? Where is the parent that has not -witnessed, as one little being after another passed on from infancy to -youth, and from youth to manhood, the perpetual warfare to sustain good -purposes and oft-broken resolutions? And where is the conscious spirit -that can not look back on its whole course of existence as one continued -exhibition of a conflict that gives unvarying evidence of this truth? -Men _feel_ that it is as impossible for them to be invariably _perfect_ -in thought, word, and deed, as it is to rule the winds and waves. - -The testimony of mankind through every period of the world, in regard to -their own individual consciousness, attests a sense of the same fatal -inability. If we go back even as far as to the heathen sages of -antiquity, we gain the same acknowledgment. Thus we find Pythagoras -calls it "the fatal companion, the noxious strife that lurks within us, -and which was born along with us." Sopator terms it "the sin that is -born with mankind." Plato denominates it "natural wickedness," and -Aristotle "the natural repugnance of man's temper to reason." Cicero -declares that "men are brought into life by Nature as a step-mother, -with a naked, frail, and infirm body, and with a soul prone to divers -lusts." Seneca observes, "We are born in such a condition that we are -not subject to fewer disorders of the mind than of the body; all vices -are in men, though they do not break out in every one." Propertius says -that "every body has a vice to which he is inclined by nature." Juvenal -asserts that "nature, unchangeably fixed, runs back to wickedness." -Horace declares that "no man is free from vices, and he is the best man -who is oppressed with the least." He adds that "mankind rush into -wickedness, and always desire what is forbidden;" that "youth has the -softness of wax to receive vicious impressions, and the hardness of rock -to resist virtuous admonitions;" that "we are mad enough to attack -Heaven itself, and our repeated crimes do not suffer the God of Heaven -to lay aside his wrathful thunderbolts." - -This testimony of individual experience is verified by the general -history of mankind. All the laws and institutions of society are founded -on the principle that mankind are prone to wrong, infirm of purpose in -all that is good, and that every possible restraint is needed to prevent -the overbreaking tide of evil and crime. When we read the history of -communities and of nations, it is one continued record of selfishness, -avarice, injustice, revenge, and cruelty. Individuals seem equally -plotting against the happiness of individuals, and rejoicing to work -evils on society. Communities rise against communities, and nations dash -against nations. Tyrants fill their dominions with sorrow, misery, and -death; bloody heroes, followed by infuriate bands, spread havoc, ruin, -and dismay through all their course, while superstition binds in chains, -racks with tortures, and sacrifices its millions of victims. - -In tracing along the history of mankind, there is no period which we can -select when mankind have not seemed as busy in destroying their own, and -the happiness of others, as the lower animals are in seeking their -appropriate enjoyments. At one time we behold Xerxes pouring forth all -Asia upon Europe, where three million beings were brought to be -slaughtered by the Greeks. At another time the Greeks, headed by -Alexander, return upon Asia, and spread over most of the known world, -pillaging, burning, and slaughtering. Then we behold Alaric, at the head -of barbarous hordes, desolating all the Roman empire, and destroying the -monuments of taste, science, and the arts. Then we see Tamerlane rushing -forth, overrunning Persia, India, and other parts of Asia, carrying -carnage and the most desolating cruelty in his course, so that it is -recorded that he would cause thousands of his prisoners to be pounded in -mortars with bricks to form into walls. - -From Europe we behold _six millions_ of Crusaders rush forth upon the -plains of Asia, with rapine, and famine, and outrage attending their -course. Then come forth from Eastern Asia the myrmidons of Genghis Khan, -ravaging fifteen millions of square miles, beheading 100,000 prisoners -at one time, shaking the whole earth with terror, and exterminating -fourteen millions of their fellow-men. Then from the northern forests -are seen swarming forth the Goths and Vandals, sweeping over Europe and -Asia, and bearing away every vestige of arts, civilization, comfort, and -peace. At another time we see the professed head of the Christian Church -slaughtering the pious and inoffensive Albigenses, sending horror into -their peaceful villages, and torturing thousands of inoffensive victims. - -At one period of history the whole known world seemed to be one vast -field of carnage and commotion. The Huns, Vandals, and other Northern -barbarians were ravaging France, Germany, and Spain; the Goths were -plundering and murdering in Italy, and the Saxons and Angles were -overrunning Great Britain. The Roman armies under Justinian, together -with the Vandals and Huns, were desolating Africa; the barbarians of -Scythia were pouring down upon the Roman empire; the Persian armies were -pillaging and laying waste the countries of Asia; the Arabians, under -Mohammed, were beginning to extend their conquests over Syria, -Palestine, Egypt, Barbary, and Spain. Every nation and kingdom on earth -was shaking to its centre. The smoke and the spirits of the bottomless -pit seemed coming up to darken, and torment, and affright mankind. The -most fertile countries were converted to deserts, and covered with ruins -of once flourishing cities and villages; the most fiendish cruelty was -practiced; famine raged to such a degree that the living fed upon the -dead; prisoners were tortured by the most refined systems of cruelty; -public edifices were destroyed; the monuments of science and the arts -perished; cruelty, fraud, avarice, murder, and every crime that -disgraces humanity, were let loose upon a wretched world. Historians -seem to shudder in attempting to picture these horrid scenes, and would -draw a veil over transactions that disgrace mankind. - -If from ancient times we look at the present state of the world, at its -present most refined and enlightened period, the same mournful evidence -is discovered. Cruelty and tyranny have changed some of the fairest -provinces of Persia to deserts. The Turk long ago turned the land of the -patriarchs and prophets to a wilderness, and drenched the shores of -Greece with the blood of slaughtered victims, while Syria, Kurdistan, -and Armenia for ages have been ravaged with injustice and rapine. China -and Japan have been shut out from the world by a cold and jealous -selfishness. In Tartary, Arabia, and Siberia, the barbarous tribes are -prowling about for plunder, or engaged in murderous conflicts. In -Africa, the Barbary States are in perpetual commotion; the petty tyrants -of Benin, Ashantee, and other interior states are waging ceaseless wars, -murdering their prisoners, and adorning their houses with their skulls; -and on its ravaged coast the white man-stealer, for hundreds of years, -has been prowling, and bearing off thousands of wretches as a yearly -offering to the avarice of the most refined and Christian nations on -earth. In North America, we have seen the native tribes employed in war, -and practicing the most fiendish barbarities, while in South America, -its more civilized inhabitants are engaged in constant political and -bloody commotions. In the islands of the ocean thousands of human beings -have been fighting each other, throwing darts and stones at strangers, -offering human sacrifices, and feasting on the flesh of their enemies. - -If we select Europe for the exhibition of human nature as seen under the -restraints of civilization, laws, refinement, and religion, the same -evils burst forth from bonds and restraints. In Europe, for ages, the -common people, in slavery and ignorance, have been bowing down to a -grinding priesthood, or an oppressive nobility or monarchical tyranny. -Incessant heaving of the troubled nations portends desolation and -dismay, as man seems waking from the slavery of ages to shake off his -fetters and call himself free. - -If we look to our own boasted land of liberty and religion, what toiling -of selfish and discordant interests--what mean and low-lived arts to -gain honor and power--what shameful attacks on fair reputation and -unblemished honor--what collisions of party-strifes and local interests! -Here also the curse of slavery brings the blush of shame to every honest -man that, from year to year, on the anniversary of the national liberty, -hears the declarations of rights this very nation is trampling under -foot. Millions of slaves, deprived of the best blessing and the dearest -rights of humanity, are held in the most degrading bondage by a nation -who yearly and publicly acknowledge their perfect and unalienable -rights. - -The same melancholy view is no less clearly witnessed in the opinions -and moral sentiments of mankind. The mind of man is formed to love -happiness, to be pleased with what promotes it, and to detest that which -tends to destroy it, yet the long reign of selfishness has seemed to -pervert and poison even the taste and moral sentiments of men. Who is -the hero sung by the poet, eulogized by the statesman, and flattered by -the orator? Who is it presented in classic language to the gaze of -enthusiastic childhood, and pictured forth in tales of romance to -kindling youth? - -It is the man who has given up his life to the gratification of pride, -and the love of honor and fame; the man who, to gain this selfish good, -can plunge the sword into the bosom of thousands, and stand the -unpitying spectator of burning cities, widowed mothers, orphan children, -desolated fields, and the long train of ills that he wantonly pours on -mankind, that he may gain the miserable pittance of gaping admiration -and dreadful renown which rises amid the tears and cries of mankind. It -is the man who, when injured, knows not how to forgive--whose stinted -soul never knew the dignity and pleasure of giving blessing for ill--who -deems it the mark of honor and manhood to follow the example of the -whining infant, that, when he is struck, with the same noble spirit will -strike back again. - -Meantime, the calm forbearance and true dignity of virtue, that would be -humbled at recrimination and can not condescend to retaliate, is put in -the background as unworthy such honors and eulogy. Thus, also, we find -intellect, which the Creator designed only as the instrument of securing -happiness, though perverted to vice and folly, applauded and admired; -and even some of those admired as among the wisest of mankind have often -placed true virtue and goodness below the fancied splendors of genius -and learning. All the maxims, and honors, and employments of mankind -develop the perverted action of the noblest part of the creation of God -in all its relations and in all its principles and pursuits. - -It is into such a world as this that every new-born mind is ushered -without knowledge to guide, without habits to strengthen, without the -power of forming a ruling purpose to do right which shall control all -subordinate volitions. - -Instead of meeting perfect educators to instruct in the laws of the -system, to form good habits, and to exert all the powerful social, -domestic, and civil influences aright, every one of these powerful -principles are fatally wrong. Parents, teachers, companions, and rulers, -to a greater or less extent, teach wrong, train wrong, and set wrong -examples, while the whole moral atmosphere is contaminated and -paralyzing. - -In these circumstances, it is as _impossible_ for a young mind to -commence existence here with perfect obedience to law, and to continue -through life in a course of perfect rectitude, as it is for it, by its -feeble will, to regulate the winds of heaven, or turn back the tides of -the ocean. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -WRONG ACTION OF MIND, AND ITS RESULTS IN A FUTURE STATE. - - -We are now to inquire as to the results of the wrong action of mind in a -future state, so far as reason and experience can furnish data for any -anticipations. - -The following are the principles of mind from which we reason on this -subject. It appears that its constitution is such that the repetition of -one particular mode of securing happiness induces a habit; and that the -longer a habit continues, the more powerful is its force. An early habit -of selfishness is always formed in the human mind, and the penalties -following from self-indulgence and selfishness are not sufficient to -prevent the continued increase of this habit. Though men, from the very -beginning of existence, feel that they are happier in obeying the -dictates of conscience, and that increase of guilt is increase of -sorrow, yet this does not save them, in numberless cases, from -increasing evil habits. - -It is also established by experience that, when a strong habit is -formed, the mere decisions of the will are not sufficient for an -immediate remedy. In this life, it requires a period of long and painful -efforts of the will to rectify an established habit. Every human being -is conscious how difficult it is to force the mental and bodily -faculties to obey its decisions when contrary to the stream of a -long-indulged habit. There are few who have not either experienced or -witnessed the anguish of spirit that has followed the violations of -solemn resolutions, those firmest decisions of the will, in the contest -between habit and conscience. - -Another principle of mind is this, that when selfishness and crime have -been long indulged, the natural constitution of mind seems changed, so -that inflicting evil on others is sought as an enjoyment. In -illustration of this, it is related of Antiochus Epiphanes that, in his -wars with the Jews, after all opposition had ceased, and all danger and -cause of fear was removed, he destroyed thousands for the mere pleasure -of seeing them butchered. An anecdote is related of him, too horrible to -record in all its particulars, where he sat and feasted his eyes on the -sufferings of a mother and her seven sons, when the parent was doomed to -witness the infliction of the most excruciating and protracted tortures -on each of her seven children, and then was tortured to death herself. - -It is recorded of Mustapha, one of the Turkish sultans, that by -honorable capitulations he gained the person of a brave Venetian -commander called Bragadino, who was defending his country from the -cruelty of invaders. After having promised him honorable protection, he -ordered him, bound hand and foot, to behold the massacre of his -soldiers, then caused his person to be cut and mutilated in the most -horrible manner, and then taunted him as a worshiper of Christ, who -could not save his servants. When recovered of his wounds, he obliged -him to carry loaded buckets of earth before the army, and kiss the -ground whenever he passed his barbarous tormentor. He then had him hung -in a cage, to be tormented by his own soldiers, who were chained as -galley-slaves, that they might be agonized by the indignities and -sufferings of their venerated commander. After the most protracted -sufferings and indignities in the public place, at the sound of music he -was flayed alive. - -The history of some of the Roman emperors, even of some who, in early -childhood and youth, were gentle, amiable, and kind, presents the same -horrible picture. Nero set fire to Rome, and dressed the Christians in -garments of flaming pitch, to run about his garden for his amusement. -Tiberius tormented his subjects, and murdered them in cruel pangs, to -gratify his love of suffering, while Caligula butchered his people for -amusement with his own hand. - -The mind turns with horror from such revolting scenes, and asks if it is -possible human nature _now_ can be so perverted and debased. But this is -the humiliating record of some of the _amusements_, even of our own -countrymen, that have occurred in some parts of this refined and -Christian nation. "Many of the interludes are filled up with a _boxing -match_, which becomes memorable by feats of _gouging_. When two boxers -are wearied with fighting and bruising each other, they come to close -quarters, each endeavoring to twist his forefinger into the earlocks of -his antagonist. When they are thus fast clenched, the thumbs are -extended, and _both the eyes_ are turned out of their sockets. The -victor is hailed with shouts of applause from the sporting throng, while -his poor antagonist, thus blinded for life, _is laughed at_ for his -misfortune." - -One very striking fact bearing on this subject has been established by -experience, and that is, that _extreme suffering_, either mental or -bodily, tends to awaken the desire to inflict evil upon other minds. -This is probably one mode of accounting for the increased cruelty of the -Roman emperors. As the powers of enjoyment diminished by abuse, and the -horrors of guilt harassed their spirits, this dreadful desire to torment -others was awakened. - -There are many undisputed facts to establish the principle that extreme -suffering is the cause of terrible malignity. The following is from a -statement of Mr. Byron, who was shipwrecked on the coast of South -America: "So terrible was the scene of foaming breakers, that one of the -bravest men could not help expressing his dismay, saying it was too -shocking to bear. In this dreadful situation malignant passions began to -appear. The crew grew extremely riotous, and fell to beating every thing -in their way, and broke open chests and cabins for plunder that could be -of no use. So earnest were they in this wantonness of theft, that in the -morning a strangled corpse was found of one who had contested the -spoil." - -A still more terrible picture is given in an account of the loss of the -Medusa frigate on the coast of Africa. In the midst of dreadful -suffering from cold, danger, and famine, it is recorded that "a spirit -of sedition arose and manifested itself by furious shouts. The soldiers -and sailors began to cut the ropes, and declared their intention of -murdering the officers. About midnight, they rushed on the officers like -desperate men, each having a knife or sabre, and such was their fury -that they tore their clothes and their flesh _with their teeth_. The -next morning the raft was strewed with dead bodies. The succeeding night -was passed in similar horrors, and the morning sun saw twelve more -lifeless bodies. The next night of suffering was attended with a horrid -massacre, and thus it continued till only fifteen remained of the whole -one hundred and fifty!" - -Another principle of mind having a bearing on this subject is the fact -that those qualities of mind which are the causes of enjoyment in others -around may be viewed with only pain and dislike by a selfish person. -Thus intellectual superiority, in itself considered, is a delightful -object of contemplation; but if it becomes the means of degradation or -of contemptuous comparison to a selfish mind, it is viewed with -unmingled pain. Benevolence and truth are objects of delightful -contemplation to all minds when disconnected with obligations or painful -comparisons, but if they are viewed as causes of evil to a selfish mind, -it will view them with unmingled dislike and hatred. - -Now we find that there are two classes of minds in this world: those who -are more or less benevolent, and find their happiness in living to -promote the general interests of their fellow-beings, and those who are -selfish, and are living to promote their own enjoyment irrespective of -the general happiness. - -If, then, we reason from the known laws of mind and from past -experience, we must suppose that the habits of mind which are existing -in this life will continue to increase, and if the mind is immortal, a -time must come when one class will become perfectly benevolent and the -other perfectly selfish. A community of perfectly benevolent beings, it -has been shown, would, from the very nature and constitution of mind, be -a perfectly happy community. Every source of enjoyment of which mind is -capable would be secured by every individual. - -It can be seen, also, that there must, in the nature of the case, be an -entire separation between two such opposite classes; for it is as -painful for minds suffering from conscious guilt, shame, and malignity, -to look upon purity, benevolence, and happiness, as it is for the -virtuous to associate with the selfish, the debased, and the abandoned. -This separation, therefore, would be a voluntary one on both sides, even -did we suppose no interference of Deity. But if the Creator continues -his present constitution of things, we may infer that his power would be -exerted to prevent the intrusion of malignity into a perfect and -well-ordered community; for he has so constituted things _here_, that -those who are incorrigible pests to society are confined from -interfering with its interests. - -From the laws of mind, then, and from past experience as to the -tendencies of things, we can establish the position that, at some future -period, if the mind of man is immortal, the human race will be -permanently divided into two classes, the perfectly selfish and the -perfectly benevolent. - -Should it be objected to this conclusion that when the mind passes into -another world more effectual motives may be brought to operate, it may -be replied that it is not the office of reason to meet _suppositions_ of -_possibilities_, but to show what the _probabilities_ are by deductions -from principles already known. A thousand possibilities may be asserted, -such as the annihilation of mind or the alteration of its powers, but -these are mere suppositions, and have nothing to do with the conclusions -of reason. - -If mind is immortal and continues its present nature, habits will -continue to strengthen; and in regard to motives, we know already that -the _fear of evil consequences_ will not save from continuance in crime. -How often has a man who has yielded to habits of guilt been seen -writhing in the agonies of remorse, longing to free himself from the -terrible evils he has drawn around him, acknowledging the misery of his -course and his ability to return to virtue, and yet, with bitter -anguish, yielding to the force of inveterate habits and despairing of -any remedy. - -We know, also, that it is a principle established by long experience, -that punishment does not tend to soften and reform. Where is the -hardened culprit that was ever brought to repentance and reformation by -lashes or the infliction of degradation? Such means serve only to harden -and brutify. Experience forbids the hope that punishment will ever -restore a selfish and guilty mind to virtue and peace. - -Reason and experience, then, both lead to the conclusion that the two -classes of minds into which mankind are here divided will, on leaving -this world, eventually become two permanently distinct communities--one -perfectly selfish, and the other perfectly benevolent. - -What, then, would reason and experience teach us as to the probable -situation of a community of minds constituted like those of the human -race, who, in the progress of future ages, shall establish habits of -_perfect selfishness and crime_? - -In regard to the Creator, what may we suppose will be the feelings of -such minds? If he is a benevolent, pure, and perfectly happy being, and -his power is exerted to confine them from inflicting evil on the good, -he will be the object of unmingled and tormenting envy, hatred, and -spite; for when a selfish mind beholds a being with characteristics -which exhibit its own vileness in painful contrast, and using his power -to oppose its desires, what might in other circumstances give pleasure -will only be cause of pain. If they behold, also, the purity and -happiness of that community of benevolent beings from which they will be -withdrawn, the same baleful passions will be awakened in view of their -excellence and enjoyment. - -There is no suffering of the mind more dreaded and avoided than that of -_shame_. It is probable a guilty creature never writhes under keener -burnings of spirit than when all his course of meanness, baseness, -ingratitude, and guilt is unveiled in the presence of dignified virtue, -honor, and purity, and the withering glance of pity, contempt, and -abhorrence is encountered. This feeling must be experienced, to its full -extent, by every member of such a wretched community. Each must feel -himself an object of loathing and contempt to every pure and benevolent -mind, as well as to all those who are equally debased. - -Another cause of suffering is ungratified desire. In this world, perfect -misery and full happiness is seldom contrasted. But in such -circumstances, if we suppose that the happiness of blessed minds will be -known, the keenest pangs of ungratified desire must torment. Every mind -will know what is the pure delight of yielded and reciprocated -affection, of sympathy in the happiness of others, of the sweet peace of -conscious rectitude, and of the delightful consciousness of conferring -bliss on others, while the ceaseless cravings of hopeless desire will -agonize the spirit. - -Another cause of suffering is found in the _loss of enjoyment_. In such -a degraded and selfish community, all ties of country, kindred, -friendship, and love must cease. Yet all will know what _were_ the -endearments of home, the mild soothings of maternal love, the ties of -fraternal sympathy, and all the trust and tenderness of friendship and -love. What vanished blessing of earth would not rise up, with all the -sweetness and freshness that agonizing memory can bring, to aggravate -the _loss of all_! - -But the mind is so made that, however wicked itself, guilt and -selfishness in others is hated and despised. Such a company, then, might -be described as those who were "hateful and hating one another." It has -been shown that both suffering and selfishness awaken the desire to -torment others. This, then, will be the detested purpose of every -malignant mind. Every action that could irritate, mortify, and enrage, -would be deliberately practiced, while disappointed hopes, and blasted -desires, and agonizing misery would alone awaken the smile of horrible -delight. And if we suppose such minds in a future state reclothed in a -body, with all the present susceptibilities of suffering, and surrounded -by material elements that may be ministers of hate, what mind can -conceive the terror and chaos of a world where every one is actuated by -a desire to torment? - -Suppose these beings had arrived at only such a degree of selfishness as -has been witnessed in this world; such, for example, as Genghis Khan, -who caused unoffending prisoners to be pounded to death with bricks in a -mortar; or Nero, who dressed the harmless Christians in flaming pitch -for his amusement; or Antiochus Epiphanes and Mustapha, who spent their -time in devising and executing the most excruciating tortures on those -who could do them no injury. What malignity and baleful passions would -actuate such minds, when themselves tormented by others around, bereft -of all hope, and with nothing to interest them but plans of torment and -revenge! What refined systems of cruelty would be devised in such a -world! what terrific combinations of the elements to terrify and -distress! If such objects as "the lake which burneth with fire and -brimstone, and the worm that never dies," could be found, no Almighty -hand would need to interfere, while the "smoke of their torment" would -arise from flames of their own kindling. - -To fearful sufferings thus inflicted would be added the pangs of -agitating _fear_; for where all around were plotting misery, what -relief, by day or by night, from its withering terrors? Then surely -"fear would come upon them like desolation, and destruction as a -whirlwind." - -Another cause of suffering is inactivity of body and mind. It has been -seen that the desire of good is what gives activity to the intellectual -and moral powers. In such a world, no good could be hoped or sought, but -the gratification of inflicting ill. And even a malignant mind must -often weary in this pursuit, and sink under all the weight and misery of -that awful _death of the soul_, when, in torpid inactivity, it has -nothing to love, nothing to hope, nothing to desire! - -Another cause of misery is the consciousness of guilt; and such, even in -this life, have been the agonies of remorse, that tearing the hair, -bruising the body, and even gnawing the flesh have been resorted to as a -temporary relief from its pangs. What, then, would be its agonizing -throes in bosoms that live but to torment and to destroy all good to -themselves and to other minds? - -In this life, where we can allow the mind to be engrossed by other -pursuits, and where we can thus form a habit of suppressing and avoiding -emotions of guilt, the conscience may be seared. But it could not be -thus when all engaging and cheerful pursuits were ended forever. Then -the mind would view its folly, and shame, and guilt in all their length -and breadth, and find no escape from the soul-harrowing gaze. - -To these miseries must be added despair--the loss of all hope. Here hope -comes to all; but, in such a community, that fearful susceptibility of -the soul--that terrific power of _habit_--would bind in chains which -would be felt to be stronger than brass and heavier than iron. If the -spirit is conscious that its powers are immortal, with this -consciousness would come the despairing certainty of increasing and -never-ending woe! - -This terrifying and heart-rending picture, it must be remembered, is the -_deduction of reason_, and who can point out its fallacy? Is not habit -appalling in its power, and ofttimes, even in this life, inveterate in -its hold? Are not habits increased by perpetual repetition? Is not the -mind of man immortal? Do not the tendencies of this life indicate a -period when a total separation of selfish and benevolent minds will be -their own voluntary choice? If all the comforts, gentle endearments, and -the enlivening hopes of this life; if all the restraints of -self-interest, family, country, and laws; if in Christian lands the -offers of heaven, and the fearful predictions of eternal woe; if the -mercy and pardon, and all the love and pity of our Creator and Redeemer, -neither by fear, nor by gratitude, nor by love, can turn a selfish mind, -what hope of its recovery when it goes a _stranger_ into a world of -spirits, to sojourn in that society which, according to its moral -habits, it must voluntarily seek? And if there exists a community of -such selfish beings, can language portray, with any adequacy, the -appalling results that must necessarily ensue? - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -CHARACTER OF THE CREATOR. - - -The preceding pages have exhibited the nature of mind, the object of its -formation, the right mode of action to secure this object, and the -causes and results of its right and wrong action, as indicated by reason -and experience. - -We are now furnished with farther data to guide us in regard to the -character of our Creator, as we seek it by the light of reason alone. - -We have seen, in the chapter on intuitive truths, that by the first of -these principles we arrive at the knowledge of some _eternal First Cause -of all finite things_. - -By another of these principles we deduce certain particulars in regard -to his character as exhibited through his works. This principle is thus -expressed: "Design is evidence of an intelligent cause, and the nature -of a design proves the character and intention of the author." We are -now prepared to show how much must be included in this truth. - -Our only idea of "an intelligent cause" is that of _a mind like our -own_. This being so, we assume that we are instructed, by the very -constitution of our own minds, that our Creator is a being endowed with -intellect, susceptibilities, and will, and a part of these -susceptibilities are those included in our _moral constitution_. - -This moral nature, which we are thus led to ascribe to our Creator, -includes, in the first place, the existence of a feeling that whatever -lessens or destroys happiness is unfitted to the system of the universe, -and that _voluntary sacrifice and suffering to purchase the highest -possible happiness is fitted to or in accordance with the eternal nature -of things_. - -Next, we are thus taught that in the Eternal Mind is existing that -_sense of justice_ which involves the desire of good to the author of -good, and of evil to the author of evil, which requires that such -retributions be _proportioned_ to the good and evil done, and to the -_voluntary_ power of the agent. - -Lastly, we are thus instructed that the Author of all created things -possesses that susceptibility called _conscience_, which includes, in -the very constitution of mind itself, retributions for right and wrong -actions. - -But while we thus assume that the mind of the Creator is, so far as we -can conceive, precisely like our own in constitutional organization, we -are as necessarily led to perceive that the _extent_ of these powers is -far beyond our own. A mind with the power, wisdom, and goodness -exhibited in the very small portion of his works submitted to our -inspection, who has inhabited eternity, and developed and matured -through everlasting ages--our minds are lost in attempting any -conception of the extent of such infinite faculties! - -But we have another intuitive truth to aid in our deductions. It is that -by which we infer the continuance of a _uniformity in our experience_; -that is, we necessarily believe that "things will continue as they are -and have been, unless there is evidence to the contrary." Now all past -experience as to the nature of mind has been uniform. Every mind known -to us is endowed with intellect, susceptibility, and will, like our own. -So much is this the case, that when any of these are wanting in a human -being, we say he has "lost his mind." - -Again: all our experience of mind involves the idea of the _mutual -relation of minds_. We perceive that minds are made to match to other -minds, so that there can be no complete action of mind, according to its -manifest design, except in relation to other beings. A mind can not love -till there is another mind to call forth such emotion. A mind can not -bring a tithe of its power into appropriate action except in a community -of minds. The conception of a solitary being, with all the social powers -and sympathies of the human mind infinitely enlarged, and yet without -any sympathizing mind to match and meet them, involves the highest idea -of unfitness and imperfection conceivable. - -Thus it is that past experience of the nature of mind leads to the -inference that no mind has existed from all eternity _in solitude_, but -that there is _more than one eternal, uncreated mind_, and that all -their powers of enjoyment from giving and receiving happiness in social -relations have been in exercise from eternal ages. This is the just and -natural deduction of reason and experience, as truly as the deduction -that there is at least one eternal First Cause. - -It has been argued that the _unity of design_ in the works of nature -proves that there is but one creating mind. This is not so, for in all -our experience of the creations of finite beings no _great design_ was -ever formed without a combination of minds, both to plan and to execute. -The majority of minds in all ages, both heathen and Christian, have -always conceived of the Creator as _in some way_ existing so as to -involve the ideas of plurality and of the love and communion of one mind -with another. - -Without a revelation, also, we have the means of arriving at the -conclusion that the Creator of all things is not only a mind organized -just like our own, but that he always has and always will feel and act -right. We infer this from both his social and his moral constitution; -for he must, as our own minds do, desire the love, reverence, and -confidence of his creatures. The fact that he has made them to love -truth, justice, benevolence, and self-sacrificing virtue is evidence -that he has and will exhibit these and all other excellences that call -forth affection. - -But we have still stronger evidence. We have seen all the causes that -experience has taught as the leading to the wrong action of mind. These -are necessarily excluded from our conceptions of the Creator. The -Eternal Mind can not err for want of knowledge, nor for want of habits -of right action, nor for want of teachers and educators, nor for want of -those social influences which generate and sustain a right governing -purpose; for an infinite mind, that never had a beginning, can not have -these modes of experience which appertain to new-born and finite -creatures. - -Again: we have seen that it is one of the implanted principles of reason -that "no rational mind will choose evil without hope of compensating -good." Such is the eternal system of the universe, as we learn it by the -light of reason, that the highest possible happiness to each individual -mind and to the whole commonwealth is promoted by the right action of -every mind in that system. This, of necessity, is seen and felt by the -All-creating and Eternal Mind, and to suppose that, with this knowledge, -he would ever choose wrong is to suppose that he would choose pure evil, -and this is contrary to an intuitive truth. It is to suppose the Creator -would do what he has formed our minds to believe to be impossible in -_any_ rational mind. It is to suppose that the Creator would do that -which, if done by human beings, marks them as insane. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -ON PERFECT AND IMPERFECT MINDS. - - -We are now prepared to inquire in regard to what constitutes _a perfect -mind_. This question relates, in the first place, to the perfect -constitutional organization of mind, and, in the next place, to the -perfect action of mind. - -In regard to a finite mind, when we inquire as to its perfection in -organization, we are necessarily restricted to the question of the -object or end for which it is made. Any contrivance in mind or matter is -perfect when it is so formed that, _if worked according to its design_, -it completely fulfills the end for which it is made, so that there is no -way in which it could be improved. - -It is here claimed, then, that by the light of reason alone we first -gain the object for which mind is made, and then arrive at the -conclusion that the mind of man is perfect in construction, because, if -worked according to its design, it would completely fulfill the end for -which it is made, so that there is no conceivable way in which it could -be improved. This position can not be controverted except by presenting -evidence that some other organization of the mind would produce, in an -eternal and infinite system, more good with less evil than the present -one. - -In regard to the Eternal Mind, the only standard of perfection in -organization that we can conceive of is revealed in our own mind. Every -thing in our own minds--every thing around us--every thing we have known -in past experience, is designed to produce the most possible happiness -with the least possible evil. We can not conceive of any being as wise, -or just, or good, but as he acts to promote that end. - -A mind organized like our own, with faculties infinitely enlarged, who -always has and always will sustain a controlling purpose to act right, -is the only idea we can have of an all-perfect Creator. - -But on the subject of the perfect action of finite minds it is perceived -that reference must always be had to _voluntary power_ and its -limitations. We have shown that the implanted susceptibility, called the -_sense of justice_, demands that the rewards and penalties for good and -evil have reference to _the knowledge and power_ of a voluntary agent; -that is to say, it is contrary to our moral nature voluntarily to -inflict penalties for wrong action on a being who either has no power to -know what right is, or no power to do it. We revolt from such -inflictions with instinctive abhorrence, as unfit and contrary to the -design of all things. - -So, in forming our judgment of the Creator, when we regard him as -perfectly just, the idea implies that he will never _voluntarily_ -inflict evil for wrong action on beings who have not the knowledge or -power to act right. - -Here we are again forced to the assumption of some _eternal nature of -things_ independent of the Creator's will, by which ignorant and -helpless creatures are exposed to suffering from wrong action when they -have no power of _any_ kind to act right. - -For we see such suffering actually does exist, and there are but two -suppositions possible. The one is, that it results from the Creator's -_voluntary_ acts, and the other, that it is inherent in that eternal -nature of things which the Creator can no more alter than he can destroy -his own necessary and eternal existence. - -In judging of the perfect action of finite minds, we are obliged to -regard the question in two relations. In the primary relation we have -reference to actions which, in all the infinite relations of a vast and -eternal system of free agents, are fitted to secure the most possible -good with the least possible evil. In this relation, so far as we can -judge by experience and reason, no finite being ever did or ever can -_act perfectly_ from the first to the last of its volitions. In this -relation, every human being is certainly, necessarily, and inevitably -imperfect in action. - -But when the question of perfection in action simply has reference to -the knowledge and power of the voluntary agent, we come to another -result. In this relation, any mind acts perfectly _when it forms a -ruling purpose to feel and act right in all things, when it takes all -possible means of learning what is right, and when it actually carries -out this purpose, so far as it has knowledge and power_. - -If a human mind is, as has been shown, perfect in that organization of -its powers for which the Creator is responsible, and then forms and -carries out such a ruling purpose, it is, so far as we can learn without -revelation, as perfect in action as is possible in the nature of things; -that is to say, it voluntarily acts to promote the greatest possible -good with the least possible evil as entirely as is possible, and as -really as does the Creator, who himself is limited by the nature of -things. - -It is as impossible for a finite mind to act right, when it does not -know what right is, as it is for the Eternal Mind to make and sustain a -system in which there has been and never will be any wrong action to -cause pain to himself and to other minds. - -What, then, so far as we can learn without a revelation, is a perfect -mind in such a system of things as we find in this world? It is a mind -constituted like our own, which has formed a ruling purpose to feel and -act right in all things, which takes all possible means in its reach to -learn what is right, and which actually carries out this purpose to the -extent of its power. - -In shorter terms, in this relation every human mind is perfect, both in -constitution and in action, so long as it acts as near right as is in -its present power. At the same time, in relation to the infinite and -eternal standard of rectitude, its action may be very imperfect. - -We next inquire as to the _evidence_ of a perfect mind in this secondary -relation; that is to say, how can we know when a mind does reach the -full measure of its power in voluntary right action? - -In regard to this we have two sources of evidence: first, the mental -consciousness of the acting mind itself, and, next, the results of its -action. In regard to the first, every mind, in reference either to its -mental states or external deeds, can have as much certainty as to the -extent of its power as it can of any thing. If we _choose_ to feel in a -given way, or to perform a given act, and what we choose does not -follow, we are certain we have no power to do the thing. All the idea of -_power_ we have is that volition is followed by the result chosen. All -the idea we have of _want of power_ is that the result chosen does not -follow the volition. - -Every mind, then, in regard to _every specific volition_, has the most -perfect of all evidence as to the extent of its powers in its own -experience. - -But the question is a more difficult one in reference to a _generic -governing volition_. A perfectly acting mind, according to our -definition, is one that has formed a generic governing volition to _feel -and act right_ in all respects; that is, it decides that the chief end -of existence shall be to promote the greatest possible happiness with -the least possible evil, in obedience to all, physical, social, and -moral laws of the Creator, so far as it is within the reach of its -powers. - -Now, as to this simple act of choice, a mind can have the highest -possible evidence in its own consciousness. The only question of -difficulty would be as to _the extent_ of its powers to carry out this -decision, and the correspondence of all its subordinate volitions with -this generic purpose. - -To ascertain the truth on this point, let us suppose a mind that has the -highest evidence (that of internal consciousness) that it has formed -such a purpose. Then comes a case where a subordinate decision is to be -made--say it relates to the existence of a certain _feeling_ or -_emotion_, such as love, fear, gratitude, or sorrow. It has been shown -that these emotions are not to be evoked into existence by a simple act -of will. The mode by which the mind controls its own desires and -emotions is set forth on page 162. If, then, the person chooses to do -_all that is in its power at the given time_ to awaken these emotions, -its action is _perfect_ in this respect: it has fulfilled the measure of -its power. It reaches the limit of its power when it can find nothing -more that an _act of choice_ will secure that it perceives will tend to -accomplish the end chosen. That is to say, at each given moment, when a -mind is aiming to know what is right, and to do it, if it has done all -it perceives can be done by any act of will toward this end, then its -decision or mental action is _perfect_; it is as good as is possible in -the nature of things. - -We have the same method of testing our power in regard to the -_prevention_ of desires and emotions. No matter how painful or -inappropriate may be the desires and emotions of any mind, it is acting -_perfectly_ when it goes to the full extent of its power to extinguish -or to control them according to the rules of rectitude. If it wills to -have them otherwise, and uses the appropriate modes to have them so, -this is all it has power to do. - -In reference to _external actions_, there are an infinite variety of -circumstances that must decide the character of actions as right or -wrong. An action which is wise and benevolent in one set of -circumstances becomes foolish and selfish in another combination. More -than half the questions of right and wrong action are to be decided as -to their character by the surrounding circumstances, while no mind but -the one that is infinite and omniscient can pronounce with certainty on -actions whose character is dependent on circumstances and probable -future results. - -What, then, is the limitation of power in these cases? How can we know -when we act as nearly right as it is in our power? - -In the first place, we can have the high evidence of consciousness that -our chief end in life is _to act right_ in all things. In the next -place, we can know certainly whether there is any thing more that we can -do to find out what the right course is. When we have decided that we -have done all we can in the given circumstances, and then are conscious -that we choose _what we believe to be right_, or _that which has to our -mind the balance of evidence in its favor as right, we act perfectly_; -that is to say, we have reached the full measure of our power in -voluntarily acting right. - -But, besides this evidence, that rests mainly on internal consciousness -of the nature of our volitions, we have other evidence to guide us. It -has been shown in the previous pages how our thoughts, and desires, and -emotions are all dependent on the generic purposes of the mind. Whatever -is the _chief end_ of life is the object which excites the strongest -interest and calls forth the deepest emotions. Therefore, when a mind -has chosen _to act right_ as the chief end, all its tastes, desires, and -emotions become conformed to this purpose. Whatever is seen as tending -to promote this end is more desired and valued than any thing else. -Whatever is seen to interfere with this is regarded with dissatisfaction. - -This being so, a mind that is controlled by a ruling purpose to act -right finds those persons and places the most congenial and agreeable -who can lend the most aid in pointing out all that is wrong in thought, -word, or deed, and in helping, by instruction, sympathy, and example, to -do right. One great test, then, of the existence and strength of such a -ruling purpose is the manner in which those are regarded who are most -interested in finding out and doing what is right themselves, and in -aiding others to do so. - -To be "meek and lowly in heart," so as to seek help in learning what is -right from every source, however humble or however imperfectly offered, -is the surest indication that a mind is under the entire control of a -ruling purpose to do right, and is thus _a perfect mind_. - -Such a mind, it must be seen, has _tendencies_ that _fit_ it to that -great system of things in which we find ourselves. Such a mind can not -trace out these tendencies by the light of reason alone without a -conviction that _somewhere_ in the progress of ages it will attain to a -_perfect commonwealth_, where the great end and object of the Creator in -forming mind will be carried to entire perfection in each individual -mind and in the all-perfect whole! - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -ON THE PROBABLE EXISTENCE AND CHARACTER OF DISEMBODIED SPIRITS. - - -We have considered the mode by which, without revelation, we arrive at a -knowledge of the existence and character of one eternal, self-existent -Creator, and of other _eternal beings_ endowed with all the attributes -of the human mind. - -We will next inquire as to the existence of other created minds in -addition to those whose existence is manifested by a material body. -There are several principles of reason to aid us in this inquiry. The -first is that which establishes the existence of mind and matter as two -distinct and diverse causes or existences. By this we decide that every -human being has a body and a soul. - -The second principle of reason to guide us is that which teaches us to -believe that things continue to exist as they are and have been, unless -there is some known cause to destroy or change them. - -The other principles to guide us are, that nothing is to be assumed to -be true unless there is some evidence that it is so, and, in case of -conflicting evidence, the _balance_ of evidence is to decide what is -right and true. - -These principles being assumed, we find that at the death of every human -being we have evidence, first, that the body ceases to be connected with -the spirit, and is dissolved. - -Next, we have evidence at the period of this dissolving of soul and body -that the soul exists without a body, and no evidence that it is changed -in any of its powers, or habits, or character. - -Thus we arrive at the conclusion that the spirits that have existed in -this life connected with bodies are still existing with all the powers, -habits, and character which they possessed in this life, except as they -are modified by causes and tendencies that experience in this life has -disclosed. We thus infer that all minds who have left this world have -continued in the upward or downward tendencies of character which -existed when they were disconnected with the body. - -This is all the knowledge we can gain by reason and experience alone in -reference to other created beings, and their character and mode of -existence. - -As to _the time when the soul commences existence_, we have no evidence -of such existence except what is manifested in the body. We can only -infer, then, that the soul begins to exist when the evidence of its -existence commences in the body. To assert that it begins before that -time is to violate the principle of reason which forbids us to assume -any thing to be true unless there is evidence of it. - -Thus, without a revelation, we are led to a belief in the existence of -two classes of disembodied spirits, the good and the bad. But we have no -evidence of the existence of any other created minds except those that -have formerly been connected with bodies in this world. - -So far as animals give evidence of possessing an independent spiritual -existence, the same argument that proves the continued existence of the -human mind after death, proves that the animal spirit, if there be one, -continues after the dissolution of the body. - -But we can not reason in regard to animals as we can in regard to human -minds, for we never had the _experience_ of animal existence to commence -with, as we have our own experience in reasoning as to the nature and -experience of mind in reference to other beings of the same race. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -PROBABILITIES IN REGARD TO A REVELATION FROM THE CREATOR. - - -We have now completed our investigations as to the nature and amount of -knowledge to be gained on the great questions of life by reason and -experience independently of a revelation. - -We have assumed that the great cause of the disordered action of mind is -that it commences action in perfect ignorance, while all those causes -which experience shows to be indispensable to its right action, to a -greater or less degree, are wanting. - -The great want of our race is _perfect educators_ to train new-born -minds, who are _infallible teachers of what is right and true_. - -We have presented the evidence gained by reason and experience that the -Creator is perfect in mental constitution, and that he always has acted -right, and always will thus act. This being granted, we infer that he -always has done _the best that is possible_ for the highest good of his -creatures in this world, and that he always will continue to do so. - -We proceed to inquire in regard to what would be the best that it is -possible to do for us in this state of being, _so far as we can -conceive_. - -Inasmuch as the great cause of the wrong action of mind is the ignorance -and imperfection of those who are its educators in the beginning of its -existence, we should infer that the best possible thing to be done for -our race would be to provide some _perfect and infallible teacher_ to -instruct those who are to educate mind. This being granted, then all -would concede that the Creator himself would be our best teacher, and -that, if he would come to us himself in a visible form to instruct the -educators of mind in all they need to know for themselves and for the -new-born minds committed to their care, it would be the best thing we -can conceive of for the highest good of our race. - -We next inquire as to the best conceivable mode by which the Creator can -manifest himself so as to secure credence. - -To decide this, let each one suppose the case his own. Let a man make -his appearance claiming to be the Creator. We can perceive that his mere -word would never command the confidence of intelligent practical men. -Thousands of impostors have appeared and made such claims, deceiving the -weak and ignorant and disgusting the wise. - -In case the person with such claims proved to be ever so benevolent and -intelligent, if we had no other evidence than his word, it would, by -sensible persons, be regarded as the result of some mental -hallucination. - -But suppose that a person making claims to be the Creator of all things, -or to be a messenger from him, should attest his claim by shaking the -earth, or tearing up a mountain, or turning back the floods of the -ocean, it would be impossible for any man to witness these miracles -without believing that the Author of all things thus attested his own -presence or the authority of his messenger. We have shown that, in the -very organization of mind, one of the intuitive truths would necessarily -force such a belief on all sane minds. - -One other method would be as effective. Should this person predict -events so improbable and so beyond all human intelligence as to be -equivalent to an equal interruption of experience as to the laws of -mind, as time developed the fulfillment of these predictions, the same -belief would be induced in the authority of the person thus -supernaturally endowed. - -In the first case, the evidence would be immediate and most powerful in -its inception. In the latter case, the power of the evidence would -increase with time. - -_Miracles and prophecy_, then, are the _only_ methods that we can -conceive of that would, as our minds are now constituted, insure belief -in revelations from the Creator. - -But if every human being, in order to believe, must have miracles, there -would result such an incessant violation of the laws of nature as to -destroy them, and thus to destroy all possibility of miracles. - -The only possible way, then, is to have miracles occur at certain -periods of time, and then have them adequately recorded and preserved. - -This method involves the necessity of interpreting written documents. -If, then, the Creator has provided such revelations, the question occurs -as to how far they may be accessible to all men. Are there revelations -from the Creator in such a form that all men can gain access to them and -interpret them for themselves, or are they so recorded that only a few -can gain the knowledge they impart, while the many are helplessly -dependent on the few? - -It is with reference to this question that the interpretation of -language becomes a subject of vital and infinite interest to every human -being. This subject will therefore occupy the remaining portion of this -volume. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -INTERPRETATION OF LANGUAGE. - - -The mind of man is confined in its operations by the material system it -inhabits, and has no modes of communicating with other minds except -through the medium of the eye and ear. It is by signs addressed to the -eye and by sounds affecting the ear that ideas are communicated and -received. - -It is by the power of _association_, which enables us to recall certain -ideas together which have been frequently united, that the use of -language is gained. The infant finds certain states of mind produced by -material objects invariably connected with certain sounds. This is done -so often that whenever a certain perception occurs, the sound recurs -which has been so often united with it. - -If language is correctly defined as "any sound or sign which conveys the -ideas of one mind to another," it is probable that children learn -language at a much earlier period than is generally imagined. It is -impossible to know how soon the infant notices the soft tones of its own -voice when happy, or the moaning or shrill sound that expresses its own -pain, and by comparing them with those of its mother, learns, through -its little process of reasoning, that another spirit has emotions of -pleasure and pain corresponding with its own. Nor can we determine how -soon these pleasant sounds of the mother's voice begin to be associated -with the benignant smile, or the tones of grief with the sorrowful -expression, or the tones of anger with the frowning brow. - -It seems very rational to suppose that _sound_, to the infant mind, is -what first leads to the belief of the emotions of another mind, by means -of a comparison of its own sounds with those originating from another. -After this is done, the eye comes in for a share in these offices. The -little reasoner, after thousands of experiments, finds the pleasant -sound always united with the smiling face, until the object of vision -becomes the sign for recalling the idea at first obtained by sound. In -gaining the common use of language, we know this is the order of -succession. We first learn the _sounds_ that recall ideas, and then, by -means of a frequent union of these sounds with some _visible sign_, the -power once possessed simply by the sound is conveyed to the sign. Thus -we have words that are sounds and words that are visible signs. - -The communion of one spirit with that of others in every-day life is -maintained ordinarily through the medium of _sounds_; but when distance -intervenes, or when some record is to be preserved of the thoughts and -feelings of other beings, then signs addressed to the eye are employed. -In civilized nations, the signs used are a certain number of arbitrary -marks, which are arranged in a great variety of combinations, and each -combination is employed to recall some particular idea or combination of -ideas. These arbitrary signs are called letters, and in the English -language there are only twenty-six; yet, by the almost infinite variety -of combination of which these are capable, every idea which one mind -wishes to communicate to another can be expressed. - -A _written word_ is a single letter or a combination of letters used as -a sign to recall one or more ideas. It is considered by the mind as a -unit or whole thing, of which the letters are considered as parts, and -is shown to be a unit by intervals or blank spaces that separate it from -the other words of a sentence. The fact that it is considered by the -mind as _a unit_, or a sign separate from all other combinations of -letters, is the peculiarity which constitutes it a _word_. A _syllable_ -is a combination of letters which is not considered as a unit, but is -considered as a _part_ of a word. - -Words are used to recall the ideas of _things_, _qualities_, _changes_, -and _circumstances_. Some words recall the idea of a thing without any -other idea connected with it; such are the words _mind_, _ivory_. Some -words recall the idea of quality simply, such as _red_, _hard_, _sweet_. -Some words recall the ideas of change merely, such as _motion_, -_action_. Some words recall simply the idea of relation or circumstance, -such as _on_, _under_, _about_. Sometimes ideas of things, and their -actions and relations, are recalled by the same sign; thus _wrestler_ -recalls the idea of a thing and its action, and _giant_ of a thing and -its _relation_. Some words recall a variety of ideas; thus the term -_begone_ recalls the idea of two things, of the desire of a mind and of -its mode of expression. - -In the process of learning language, mankind first acquire names for the -several things, qualities, changes, and circumstances that they notice, -and afterward learn the process of _combining_ these names, so as to -convey the mental combination of one mind to another. A person might -have names for all his ideas, and yet, if he had never learned the art -of properly combining these signs, he never could communicate the varied -conceptions of his own mind to another person. Suppose, for -illustration, that a child had learned the meaning of the terms _cup_, -_spoon_, _the_, _put_, _into_, _little_, _my_; it would be impossible -for him to express his wish till he had learned the proper _arrangement_ -of each term, and then he could convey the conception and wishes of his -own mind, viz., "Put the spoon into my little cup." - -We see, then, how the new combinations of ideas in one mind can be -conveyed to another. The two persons must both have the _same ideas_ -attached to the _same sign_ of language, and must each understand the -_mode of combination_ to be employed. When this is done, if one person -sees a new object, he can send to his friend the signs which represent -all its qualities, circumstances, and changes arranged in a proper -manner. The absent person will then arrange the _conceptions_ recalled -by these words, so as to correspond with those of his correspondent. - -In all languages, the same word often is used to recall different ideas, -and the meaning of words depends often on their _mode of combination_. - -The _art of interpreting_ consists in ascertaining the particular ideas -conveyed by words _in a given combination_. - -There are two modes of using language which need to be distinctly -pointed out, viz., _literal_ and _figurative_. - -In order to understand these modes, it is necessary to refer to the -principles of _association_. Neither our perceptions or conceptions are -ever single, disconnected objects except when the power of abstraction -is employed. Ordinarily, various objects are united together in the -mind, and those objects which are most frequently united in our -perceptions, as a matter of course, are those which are most frequently -united in our conceptions. - -Now, by the power of _abstraction_, the mind can regard the same object -sometimes as a unit or whole, and sometimes can disconnect it, and -consider it as several distinct things. Thus it happens that ideas which -are connected by the principles of association are sometimes regarded as -a whole, and sometimes are disconnected, and considered as separate -existences. - -Language will be found to be constructed in exact conformity to this -phenomenon of mind. We shall find that objects ordinarily united -together, as cause and effect, have the _same name_ given, sometimes to -the _cause_, sometimes to the _effects_, and sometimes it embraces _the -whole_; or the thing, its causes and its effects. As an example of this -use of language may be mentioned the term _pride_. We sometimes hear -those objects which are the _cause_ of pride receiving that name. Thus a -child is called the pride of its parents. The same name is applied -simply to the _state of mind_, as when a man is said to be under the -influence of pride, while the _effects_ of pride receive the same -appellation when we hear a haughty demeanor and consequential deportment -called pride. The term is used in its most extended signification as -including the thing, its causes, and its effects, when we hear of the -"pride of this world," which is soon to pass away, signifying equally -the causes of this feeling, the feeling itself, and the effects of it. - -_Literal language_ is that in which all words have the ordinary meaning -as commonly used. - -_Figurative language_ is that in which the ordinary names, qualities, -and actions of things are ascribed to _other things_ with which they -have been associated. - -As an example of the use of language which is _figurative_, we find -_tears_, that are the _effects_ of grief, called by the name of the -_cause_; thus: - - "Streaming _grief_ his faded cheek bedewed." - -On the contrary, we find the cause called by the name of the effects in -this sentence: - - "And _hoary hairs_ received the reverence due." - -Here age is called by the name of one of its effects. - -The indiscriminate application of names to things which have been -connected by _time_, _place_, or _resemblance_, abounds in figurative -language. The following is an example where one object is called by the -name of another with which it has been connected by _place_: - - "The _groves_ give forth their songs." - -Here birds are called by the name of the groves with which they have -been so often united as it respects _place_. The following is an example -where an object is called by the name of another with which it is -connected by _time_: - - "And _night_ weighed down his heavy eyes." - -Here _sleep_ is called by the name of _night_, with which it has been so -often united. The following is an example where one object is called by -the name of another with which it has been connected by the principle of -_resemblance_: - - "You took her up, a little, tender bud, - Just sprouted on a bank." - -Here a young female is called by the name of an object with which she is -connected by the association of resemblance. When one object is thus -called by the name of another which it resembles, the figure of speech -is called a _metaphor_. - -When dominion is called a _sceptre_; the office of a bishop, the _lawn_; -the profession of Christianity, the _cross_; a dwelling is called a -_roof_; and various expressions of this kind, one thing is called by the -name of another of which it is a _part_, or with which it has been -connected as a circumstance, cause, or effect. - -Not only do objects which have been united in our perceptions receive -each other's _names_, but the _qualities_ of one are often ascribed to -the other. The following are examples in which the qualities of the -cause are ascribed to the effect, and the qualities of the effect are -ascribed to the cause: - - "An impious mortal gave a _daring_ wound." - -Here the quality of the _cause_ is ascribed to the _effect_. - - "The _merry_ pipe is heard." - -Here the quality of the _effect_ is ascribed to the _cause_. The -following is an example where the quality of one thing is ascribed to -another connected with it by _time_: - - "Now _musing_ midnight hallows all the scene." - -The following is an example of the quality of one thing ascribed to -another, connected with it by _place_: - - "when sapless age - Shall bring thy father to his _drooping_ chair." - -We have examples of the qualities of one thing ascribed to another which -it _resembles_ in such expressions as these--"imperious ocean," -"tottering state," "raging tempest." The following is an example of a -thing called by the name of one of its qualities or attending -circumstances: - - "What art thou, that usurpest this time of night, - Together with the fair and warlike form - In which the _majesty_ of buried _Denmark_ - Did sometimes walk?" - -Here a king is called by the name of a quality and by the name of his -kingdom. - -It is owing to the principle of association that another mode of -figurative language is employed called _personification_. This consists -in speaking of a quality which belongs to living beings as if it were -the being in which such a quality was found. This is owing to the fact -that the conceptions of qualities of mind are always united with some -being, and therefore such ideas are connected ones. Thus it is said in -the sacred writings, - - "Mercy and truth are met together." - - "Righteousness and peace have embraced each other." - - "Wisdom crieth aloud, she uttereth her voice." - -Another mode of personification is owing to the fact that the actions -and relations of inanimate existences very often resemble those of -living beings, so that such ideas are associated by the principle of -resemblance. In such cases, the actions, properties, and relations of -living beings are ascribed to inanimate objects. Thus, when the sea -roars and lifts its waves toward the skies, the actions are similar to -those of a man when he raises his arm in supplication. An example of -this kind of figurative language is found in this sublime personification -of Scripture: "The mountains saw thee, and trembled; the overflowing of -the waters passed by; the deep uttereth his voice, and lifted up his -hands on high; the sun and moon stood still in their habitations." Other -examples of this kind are found when we hear it said that "the fields -smile," "the woods clap their hands," "the skies frown," and the like. - -One cause of figurative language is found in the similarity of effects -produced on the body by operations of mind and operations of matter. -Whatever causes affect the mind in a similar manner are called by the -same name. Thus, when a man endeavors to penetrate a hard substance, the -muscles of his head and neck are affected in a particular manner. The -same muscles are affected in a similar way when a person makes powerful -and reiterated efforts to comprehend a difficult subject. Both these -actions, therefore, are called by the same name, and a man is said to -_penetrate_ the wood with an instrument, or to _penetrate_ into the -subject of his investigations. Thus joy is said to _expand_ the breast, -because it does, in fact, produce a sensation which resembles this -action. There is a great variety of figurative language founded on this -principle. Indeed, there is little said respecting the mind, and its -qualities and operations, where we do not apply terms that describe the -qualities, actions, and relations of matter. - -It is also the case that _actions_ and _relations_ that resemble each -other are called by the same name, without regard to the objects in -which they exist. Thus the skies are said _to weep_. Here there is, in -fact, the same action as is weeping in mankind, and it receives the same -name, though it is connected with a different subject. Thus, also, the -sword is said to be "_drunk_ with the blood of the slain." Here the same -relation exists between the blood and the sword as between a man and an -immoderate quantity of liquor, and the relation receives the same name -in each case. - -_An allegory_ is a succession of incidents and circumstances told of one -thing which continually recall another thing, which it resembles in the -particulars mentioned. Thus the aged Indian chief describes himself by -an allegory: "I am an aged hemlock. The winds of a hundred years have -swept over its branches; it is dead at the top; those that grew around -have all mouldered away." - -_A parable_ is of the same character as an allegory. - -_A type_ is an object of conception in which many of its qualities and -relations resemble another object that succeeds it in regard to _time_. - -_Hyperbole_ is a collection of actions, qualities, or circumstances -ascribed to an object which are contrary to the laws of experience, and -this language is employed to express excited feeling. Thus, by -hyperbole, a person is said to be "_drowned_ in tears." - -_Irony_ is language used in such a manner as to contradict the known -opinions of the speaker, and is intended to represent the absurdity or -irrationality of some thing conceived by him. - -_Symbols_ are material things employed to convey the ideas of one mind -to another. Thus, as the cultivation of the olive is connected with -seasons of peace, an olive branch is used to express the idea of peace. - -_Symbolic language_ is the use of words that are names of symbols in -place of the names of things represented by symbols. Thus the word olive -might be used instead of the word peace. - -Figurative language, especially metaphors and symbolic words, abound in -the writings of the earliest nations; and as what are claimed to be the -earliest revelations of the Creator are recorded in these languages, the -rules for interpreting figurative language are of the highest -importance. - -The preceding illustrates the principles upon which both literal and -figurative language are constructed. The question now arises, How are we -to determine when expressions are to be interpreted literally and when -they are figurative? One single rule will be found sufficient in all -cases, viz.: - -All language is _literal_ when the common meaning of each word is -consistent with our experience as to the nature of things, and -consistent with the other sentiments of the writer. - -All language is _figurative_ when the names, qualities, and actions -ascribed to things are inconsistent with our experience of the nature of -things, or contradict the known opinions of the writer. - -In the preceding examples of figurative language, it can readily be seen -that a literal interpretation would in all cases form combinations of -ideas which are opposed to experience as to the nature of things. For -example, "_grief_" can not be conceived of as "bedewing a face," because -it is an emotion of mind; nor do "hoary hairs" literally ever receive -honor; nor do "groves sing," nor "night weigh down the eyes." - -In like manner, where the qualities of one thing are ascribed to another -with which it has been connected, there is no difficulty in determining -that the language is figurative; for a "wound" can not have the quality -of "daring," which belongs only to mind, nor can a "pipe" be literally -considered as "merry," or "midnight" as "musing;" nor would it be -consistent with experience to think of a "chair" as "drooping." Nor in -the case of personification is there any more cause of difficulty. Mercy -and truth, righteousness, peace, and wisdom, are qualities of mind, and -can not be conceived of as "meeting," "embracing," and "crying aloud" in -any other than a figurative sense. And when the ocean is said to "lift -up his hands," and the sun and moon to "stand still in their -habitations," the laws of experience forbid any but a figurative -interpretation. - -In the case of an _allegory_ and all symbolic language, the same rule -applies with equal clearness and certainty. In the example given, it -would be a violation of the laws of experience to conceive of a man as a -tree with branches and a withered top. - -_Hyperbole_ is readily distinguished by the same rule. _Irony_ is known -by its being contradictory to the known opinions of the writer. Thus -there is never any difficulty in deciding when language is literal and -when it is figurative in cases where men have the laws of experience by -which to determine. - -On the supposition of a revelation from the Creator, there must be -subjects upon which mankind have had _no experience_, such as the nature -of the Deity, the character and circumstances of the invisible world and -of its inhabitants. On these subjects all language must be literal when -the literal construction is not in contradiction to the known or implied -opinion of the other declarations; for on these subjects, as the laws of -experience can not regulate in deciding between figurative and literal -language, it is impossible to show any reason why words should not be -literal except by comparison with the other statements of the same -author. If these show no reasons for supposing it figurative, it must of -necessity be considered as literal; for if neither experience nor the -writer's opinions oppose a literal meaning, there is _no_ cause why the -ordinary and common signification of words should not be retained. - -The next inquiry is, How are we to ascertain the ideas which are to be -attached to words that are used figuratively? If the common ideas which -are recalled by words are not the proper ones, what are the data for -knowing _which_ are the ideas to be recalled? The laws of association, -upon which language is founded, furnish an adequate foundation for -determining this question. If language is such that a literal -construction is contrary to the nature of things, the words used -figuratively must express something which has been connected with the -object recalled by the literal signification, either as _cause_ or -_effect_, or as something which it _resembles_, or as something it has -been connected with as a _part_, or by circumstances of _time_ or -_place_. Of course, a process of reasoning will soon decide which of -these must be selected. Take, for example, the expression, - - "Streaming grief his faded cheek bedewed." - -Here, as "grief" can not bedew the cheek, it must be the name of -something which has been connected with grief, either by the principle -of resemblance, contiguity in time or place, or by the relation of cause -and effect. It is easy to determine that it can not be either of these -except the last. Tears are the effect of sorrow, and are therefore -called by this name. The nature of the idea conveyed by the figurative -term will show whether the cause or effect, or some object related to it -as it respects time, place, or resemblance, is intended, and no -difficulty can ever occur in deciding. In all cases this general rule -avails: when words are used figuratively, such ideas as have been in any -way connected with them are to be retained as will be consistent with -the known nature of things, and consistent with other assertions of the -writer. - -In regard to the _literal_ use of language, it has been shown that the -same term is sometimes used for the name of the thing ordinarily -expressed by it, sometimes for its cause, sometimes for its effect, and -sometimes as including all these ideas. The rule for determining in -which of these senses the term is used is the same as in regard to -figurative language, viz., that signification must be attached to the -term which is in agreement with experience as to the nature of things, -and with the other sentiments of the writer. Thus, in relation to the -example given of the term pride, suppose a child is called the "pride of -its parents." We know it can not mean the _emotion of mind_; that it can -not mean the _effects_ of this state of mind; and its only other meaning -is found consistent with experience, viz., it is the _cause_ or occasion -of pride to its parents. The same mode of reasoning can be applied to -the other uses of the term. If a man is said to feel pride, there is but -one meaning which can be attached to the term. If it is said that "the -pride of the world passeth away," it includes the whole, and signifies -that the causes of pride pass away, and with them the emotions and the -effects. - -The following, then, are the clear and simple rules to employ in -interpreting all language: - -LAWS OF INTERPRETATION. - -1. The literal, ordinary meaning is to be given to all words, unless it -would express what is inconsistent with experience as to the nature of -things, or inconsistent with the opinions of the writer. - -2. When the words in a sentence are capable of several literal meanings, -that is to be chosen which makes the writer most consistent with himself -and with all known circumstances. - -3. When the literal meaning expresses what is not consistent with the -nature of things or with the writer's other declarations, then the -language is _figurative_, and only such a part of the ideas as have been -in any way connected with the words used are to be retained as will -secure such consistency. - -4. In deciding the meaning of words, we are to be guided by the -principles of common sense, viz.: No meaning is to be given unless there -is _some_ evidence that it is true; and, when there is conflicting -evidence, that meaning is the true one which has the _balance_ of -evidence in its favor. - - - - -ADDENDA TO VOL. I. - - -The second volume will commence with a description of the _kind_ of -evidence which sustains the Bible as a collection of authentic and -authoritative records of revelations from the Creator. This kind of -evidence, it will be shown, in one grand feature is entirely diverse -from any that ever existed, or even that was ever _claimed_ to exist in -reference to any pretended revelations. - -It will also be shown that this evidence is as strong and reliable as -that which regulates men in their daily practical concerns. - -This attempt the writer supposes to be, in some respects, peculiar, and -one that is particularly calculated to affect popular apprehension, -especially that of well-balanced and practical minds. Instead of a great -array of detail and argument, the whole will be contained in a very few -pages, easily comprehended, and demanding but little time or effort. - -In the next place, the laws of interpretation, and the principles of -common sense as set forth in this volume, will be _applied_ to discover -the answers of the Sacred Oracles to the great questions of life, and -their agreement with reason, experience, and the moral sense of mankind. - -This will involve a discussion of the _philosophical theories_ which it -is believed have obscured and diminished the influence of the great -Atoning Sacrifice of "the Great God our Savior Jesus Christ." - -The work will conclude with the practical application of the views set -forth to the greatest of all human interests, the _right_ training of -the human mind in infancy and childhood. - -Before offering to the public the topics to be embraced in the last -volume, it is deemed expedient to present the _great principles_ on -which all the discussions are to rest, and also a fair illustration of -the mode in which these principles will be applied. - -The following is the illustrative example: - - -_Theological Dogma of a Depraved Mental Constitution._ - -In the preceding pages we have seen the evidence that the mind of man is -_perfect_ in its _constitutional powers_, and is thus the chief and -highest evidence of the wisdom, justice, and benevolence of its Creator. - -But the systems of theology in all the Christian sects, excepting a -small fraction, teach that the mind of man comes into existence in this -world with "_a depraved nature_;" meaning by this a mental constitution -more or less depraved. - -That this is the ordinary dogma of theological teachings is clear from -this statement of the case. A thing can be wrong in only two conceivable -ways: one is by its nature or original construction, and the other is by -its action. The mind of man, therefore, if it is not perfect every way, -is either wrong in _construction_ or wrong in _action_. Now no person -ever claimed that the mind of man was not depraved in action, and -therefore all who teach that it is depraved any other way must teach -that it is depraved in its constitution, or in that nature it received -from its Maker, for there are only these two modes of depravity -conceivable. - -It being granted, then, that the mind of our race is depraved in its -nature, of course the Author of this nature is responsible for this -inconceivable and wholesale wrong. This forces us to the inevitable -conclusion that the Creator of mind is a being guilty of the highest -conceivable folly, injustice, and malignity. For reason and common sense -teach that "the nature of a contrivance is proof of the character and -intention of its author." Therefore, if mind is depraved in -construction, the Author of it is a depraved being, and totally unworthy -of our trust, respect, or love. - -This is the argument which, in all ages, has been pressed on those -theologians who maintain the dogma of the depraved nature of man, and -there have been these various methods by which this difficulty has been -evaded: - -One class openly avow that the Creator had power to make the mind of man -perfect in all respects, and that he has proved that he has this power -by making the minds of angels and of our first parents thus perfect. -But, in consequence of our first parents eating the forbidden fruit, -every mind created since that time has been ruined in the making, so as -to be totally depraved. This, it is maintained, it was right for God to -do. _How_ it was right we have no business to inquire. It is an awful -mystery; but it was so done that God "is in no way the author of sin." - -This amounts simply to a denial of the principle of reason, "that the -nature of a contrivance is proof of the intention and character of the -contriver." It is saying that the author of sin is not the author of -sin. - -This will be still farther apparent if we refer to page 158, where is -exhibited the only conceivable modes in which one being can be the cause -of sin or of wrong action in others. God is undisputably the author of -all the _outward_ circumstances that surround us. If, then, he has made -our susceptibilities wrong, or combined them wrong, he is the author of -sin in every conceivable sense. - -Whoever, therefore, affirms that God is the author of a depraved mental -organization of the human mind, affirms that he is "the author of sin" -in every conceivable sense. To assert such a fact, and then deny that -God is the author of sin, is simply a contradiction in terms. - -To avoid this dilemma, theologians have instituted the following -theories: - -The first class teach that the first pair of the human race were made -with perfect minds, and then stood as representatives of the race and -sinned for the whole. The first part of the penalty came on the actual -sinners in the ruin of their own mental constitution, and then, all men -being _represented_ in Adam and Eve, the Creator "imputed" this sin to -all their posterity, and, as a penalty, all receive a depraved mental -constitution. - -That is to say, though each of the unborn millions descended from Adam -was innocent of the crime, in order to be just, God "imputes" it to -each, and, as a penalty, ruins each in its organization, when He has -full power to make perfect minds. - -Another class assume that the Creator established such a constitution of -things that the nature of one mind is transmitted to all its myriad -descendants, by the same law as the nature of a plant is included in one -seed and is transmitted to all of its future kind. The first parents of -our race, receiving perfect minds from their Creator, ruined them by one -act of disobedience. Then, by the above law, instituted by their Maker, -they transmitted this depraved constitution of mind to all their -descendants. - -This mode of evading responsibility is about as honorable as if a -teacher should so construct springs and traps for his pupils that one -little fellow, when forbidden to do it, should touch a spring that -should cut off his own hand, and thus move other springs that would maim -all the rest of the school, while the master lays all the blame on the -child that disobeyed. - -Another class teach that the first man and woman of the race were made -with perfect minds, and then such a constitution of things was -instituted by God that every mind of the human race was so existing with -or in them, that when Adam and Eve _voluntarily_ disobeyed the Creator's -first law, every one of their descendants _voluntarily_ did the same -thing; and then, as a penalty for the deed, the parent and every one of -the embryo descendants became "totally depraved." - -This theory, which makes every human being guilty of a crime thousands -of years before we were born, and for which we are suffering the most -awful of all penalties, has nearly passed away to the puerilities of the -old schoolmen, and yet there are some of the most popular professors in -our largest and most respectable theological seminaries who are publicly -advocating it at this very time. - -Another method promulgated is the assumption that all the race were -originally created perfect, and then, while in the possession of every -possible advantage for virtue and happiness, they ruined themselves in a -previous state of existence. This is the only theory which really meets -the difficulty, and relieves the character of the Creator from being the -guilty author of depraved minds. - -But this theory, even if it could be established by revelation, does not -remedy the strong argument of reason and experience against the wisdom -and benevolence of the Creator, on the assumption of a depraved -constitution of mind. The man denying a revelation, who is called upon -to receive one, can say, Here is a race, every one of whom is ruined, -and, so far as I can see, in the making of his mind by the Creator. -Therefore this Creator, by his works, is shown to be a being of infinite -folly and malignity, from whom no _reliable_ revelation is possible. - -Granting the mind to be depraved, the light of reason inevitably guides -to a weak or malevolent Creator. To illustrate this, suppose a man is -seen manufacturing beautiful porcelain vases, and out of the "clay of -the same lump," as he makes them, he spoils every one, cracking, -marring, and defacing them in the very process of manufacture. Now -suppose this person should turn to a witness, and offer to instruct him -in the _best way of doing things_, what would be the common-sense reply? -Exactly that which would be due to a Creator who has ruined every mind -he sent into this world, and then proposes to reveal the _right way for -those ruined creatures to act_! - -Another illustration may be permitted. Suppose a colony, by some -mischance, settles on an isolated island, which is found covered with -the tobacco plant. They clear their plantations, but find that, by a -remarkable and unintelligible arrangement, after every shower there is a -fall of tobacco seeds, disseminated from an inaccessible height by a -machine erected for the purpose and constantly supplied. - -After some years, they receive a missive from the king to whom the -island belongs, in which he informs them that tobacco is the chief -object of his detestation; that it is doing incalculable mischief to his -subjects; that it is the chief end of his life, and he wishes it to be -of theirs, to exterminate the plant, and thus its use. - -He, at the same time, states that he is the author of the contrivance -for scattering the seed, and that he keeps it constantly supplied, and -claims that he has a right "to do what he will with his own," without -being questioned by his subjects. - -He then enacts that any person who is found to use tobacco, or even to -have a single seed or plant on his premises, shall be burned alive in a -caldron of fire and brimstone. - -If, in addition to this, that king were to command supreme love to him, -and perfect confidence in his wisdom, justice, and goodness, all this -would but faintly illustrate that awful system under consideration, -whose penalties are _eternal_. - -The assumption that the constitution of mind is depraved not only -destroys the evidence of the Creator's wisdom and benevolence by the -light of reason, but _destroys the possibility of a credible and -reliable revelation from him_. - -For the belief in the existence of a God is dependent on an intuitive -truth, while his character is understood, without a revelation, only by -the aid of that intuitive truth which teaches that the nature of his -works proves his character and designs. Now if his greatest work, the -immortal mind, that which alone gives any value to his other works, is -malformed, and thus made the cause of all the misery, crime, and evil of -this life, what is there to give any foundation for confidence that his -revelations will not be false, pernicious, and malignant? - -No man can start with the assumption that there is a revelation from the -Creator that needs no proof. The only basis for such a revelation is -that intuitive truth by the aid of which miracles and prophecy become -evidences of the interposition of the Creator. Thus we perceive that the -proof that "the author of a depraved constitution of mind is a depraved -being," is as strong as the evidence of a revelation by miracles and -prophecy can be. - -In regard to these theories, and in regard to the dogma of theology -which they are instituted to explain, it is claimed that both reason and -the Bible equally forbid each and all of them. - -It has already been shown, in Chapters xxii. and xxiii., that all the -evidence of reason and experience goes to prove that the mind of man is -perfect in its organization. We have only to inquire, then, in regard to -the evidence claimed to be found in revelations from the Creator. - -Before examining this evidence, it is important to notice the -distinction between _revealed facts_ and the _theories_ invented to -explain them. - -The _fact_, which both experience and revelation agree in teaching, is -that man, as a race, is guilty and depraved in _action_, and that from -the earliest periods of life this _depraved action_ is manifested. - -The _theories_ relate to _the cause_ of this wrong action, and there are -only two. The first theory is, that the constitution of mind is perfect, -and that the wrong action results from a want of experience, knowledge, -right habits, right training, and right social influences. - -The second theory is, that the constitution of mind is depraved, and -that its wrong action is the inevitable result of this wrong -construction. - -Then come the theories in reference to _the cause_ of this assumed -malformation of mind. There are only two ever assigned, viz., God and -man: God by creation, and man by sinning _in_ Adam or _before_ Adam in a -pre-existent state. - -By those who ascribe the deed to God, it is claimed that he perpetrated -this wholesale wrong to our race in one of two ways, viz., either by the -direct miscreation of each mind at or near the time of birth, or by -creating such a constitution of things that by one wrong act the first -pair transmitted, from parent to child, through the whole race, a -vitiated and depraved mental constitution. - -We now resort to the Bible to ascertain what are its teachings on this -subject. - -In the first place, then, we find a constant recognition of the fact of -a depraved _action_ of mind, and that this commences at the earliest -period of life. On this, as a revealed _fact_, there is no debate. - -Next, in regard to the _theories_ instituted to account for this fact. -Here we shall only discuss the commonly accepted theory of the Christian -world, and leave the other for the future volume. - -The main reliance for the support of the common theory of a miscreated -mind is found in Genesis, chapters i. and v., which, it is claimed, -teaches, in the first place, that God could and did create the first -human pair with minds perfectly organized, and, next, that after they -sinned, their descendants came into life with a depraved mental -constitution. The passages read thus: - -Gen., i., 26, 27: "_And God said, 'Let us make man in our image, after -our likeness.'_" - -"_So God created man in his own image; in the image of God created he -him, male and female created he them._" - -Gen., v., 3: "_And Adam begat a son in his own likeness, after his -image, and called his name Seth._" - -The whole question in these passages turns on the meaning of the words -"image" and "likeness." - -Now the only conceptions possible of the "image or likeness" of a human -mind to its spiritual Creator are, first, resemblance in its -constitutional powers of intellect, susceptibility, and will, and, next, -resemblance in the _action_ of these faculties. - -That man is the image and likeness of his Maker in constitutional powers -is clear, because we can not have any conception of the Creator but as -of a mind like our own, infinite in the extent of such capacities. This, -then, is _one_ respect in which the first pair could be in the image or -likeness to God. - -The other only conceivable respect in which they could resemble their -Creator is by _their own voluntary action, and this can not be conceived -of as created_. - -Man is the sole producing cause (see page 158) of his own _voluntary_ -acts, which alone decide moral character. Should God create these, man -would cease to be their author and cease to be a free agent. - -It is thus manifest that a mind can be _created_ in the image of God, so -far as we can conceive, only in its constitutional powers of intellect, -susceptibility, and will. - -This being established as the meaning of the word when it is said that -Adam begat Seth "in his own image," if it has reference to the mind -alone, or chiefly, then it means that the mental organization of the -child was like the parent's, and thus like the Creator's. - -In the New Testament, the chief passages which are supposed to bear on -this subject are in Romans, chapter v. These are the main texts: - -Verse 12: "_Wherefore as by one man sin entered into the world, and -death by sin, and so death passed upon all men for that all have -sinned._" - -Verse 19: "_For as by one man's disobedience many were made sinners, so -by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous._" - -Here we again are to discriminate between _facts_ and _theories_. The -_facts_ here stated are, that by one man sin entered into the world, and -death by sin; that death comes on all men because all sin; and that by -one man's disobedience many were made sinners. - -Then come the _theories_ as to _the mode_ by which many were made -sinners by the sin of one man. - -Here the Bible is silent. But theologians have manufactured the _theory_ -that when Adam sinned the constitution of his mind was changed, and then -that this nature was transmitted to his descendants. All this is without -a word of proof. - -Others have assumed that all mankind were existing in Adam, and "sinned -in him, and fell with him," which is both unintelligible, and equally -without support from the Bible. - -These, it is believed, are all ever claimed as direct Scripture evidence -of a depraved constitution of mind consequent on Adam's sin. Two other -passages are quoted as having an _indirect_ bearing on this subject. -They are as follows: - -2 Peter, ii., 4: "_For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but -cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness to be -reserved unto judgment_"-- - -Jude, 6 verse: "_And the angels which kept not their first estate, but -left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under -darkness unto the judgment of the great day._" - -In regard to these passages, we are to notice, as before, first, the -_facts_ revealed, and, next, the _theories_ instituted in regard to -them. - -The facts are, that there are two classes of angels, those that have -sinned and those that have not; that those that sinned kept not their -first estate, but left their habitations; that God cast them down to -hell, and that they are reserved in chains of darkness unto the judgment -of the great day. - -These are all the facts disclosed. Not a word is said as to the _cause_ -or _reason_ why some sinned and some did not, nor as to the mode or -manner by which these events were brought about. Here the _theories_ -come in. - -Those who maintain the depravity of the human mental constitution frame -their theory on these passages thus: - -It is here taught that there are a class of minds that have never -sinned. There must be _a cause_ for this diversity from man's -experience. _This cause is a perfect mental constitution._ This, it is -seen, is _a mere assumption, without a word of proof from the passages -quoted_! What is quite as remarkable is, that this theory is maintained -in the face of the concession that both Adam and the fallen angels were -as well endowed as the unsinning angels in regard to mental -constitution, and yet that they all sinned just as the descendants of -Adam have done. - -This dogma has been sustained by certain misconceptions that should be -considered. - -The first is in the use of the term "nature." As this word is ordinarily -used, it signifies that constitution, received from the Author of all -things, which makes certain results or effects _invariable_. Thus, when -a fountain invariably sends forth bitter waters, it is called its -"nature" to do so; when a tree invariably produces bitter fruit, this is -called its "nature." Now if it was a fact that the human mind never -acted right, but invariably wrong, it would be proper to apply this -term, and to say that in its "nature" it was totally depraved. - -But this is not the fact. "Sin is a transgression of law," and every -child, from the first, sometimes obeys and sometimes disobeys the -physical, social, and moral laws of God. No child ever _invariably_ -breaks them, but sometimes obeys and sometimes disobeys. - -But theologians have mystified the subject by assuming the very thing to -be proved, and then "reasoning in a circle." Thus they assume, not only -without, but contrary to evidence, that all human minds _invariably_ act -wrong from the first; therefore there must be a cause, and this cause is -the "nature" received, directly or indirectly, from the Creator. Then -they assume that, as every mind is "totally depraved" in its "nature," -it can no more produce holy acts than a corrupt tree can produce good -fruit, or a bitter fountain send forth sweet waters. - -Another misconception which has embarrassed this subject has arisen from -the supposition that it is irreverent, and contrary to the Bible, to -allow any limitation to _almighty power_, even in "the nature of -things." - -But it can be clearly shown that every person who maintains that there -is a Creator who is "perfect" in wisdom and benevolence, does, by this -assertion, maintain that very limitation to which the objection is made. -This is shown by means of accurate definitions. - -Thus "_perfect wisdom_ is that which adapts the _best possible_ means to -the _best possible_ ends." - -"_Perfect benevolence_ is that which produces the _greatest possible -good_ with the _least possible_ evil." - -That is to say, a Creator who is perfect in wisdom and goodness has done -the best that possibly can be done for the great universe of mind in all -its infinite and eternal relations. This being so, certainly "_He has no -power to do better_." - -The only way this is evaded is by using different words that mean the -same thing, and then refusing to define these words, or to accept exact -definitions of them from others. - -The infidel, who allows a God of perfect goodness and wisdom, and the -strict Calvinist, who is shocked at hearing that God "_has no power_" to -make a better system, or one that has less of evil, say the very same -thing themselves, only in more vague and misty modes of expression. -They, therefore, are precluded from objecting to positions that involve -such a limitation, when it is the very one which they themselves assume. - -To affirm that almighty power can make black white and yet black at the -same time, or a straight line crooked and still straight, even the -strictest upholders of the extent of almighty power would hesitate to -affirm, because they are contradictions and absurdities. But they teach -equal contradictions who claim that a mind can be _created_ with -knowledge, habits, and experience, when it has had neither instruction, -training, or experience. - -Instead of claiming these absurdities as included in our ideas of this -attribute of Deity, we are rather to assume that by almighty power is -signified "a power to do all things _except contradictions and -absurdities_." - -Thus has been presented what is claimed as the evidence in the Bible in -favor of a depraved mental constitution in the human race, and it is -maintained that it amounts to _nothing at all_. - -This being so, then we appeal to the principle of reason and common -sense (p. 25), "that _nothing is to be assumed as true unless there is -some evidence that it is so_." - -Moreover, in Chapters xxii. and xxiii. is exhibited the evidence of -reason and experience that the human mind is perfectly organized, and -thus the highest evidence of its Maker's wisdom and benevolence. - -So we can again appeal to another principle of reason, that "_we are to -consider that right which has the balance of evidence in its favor_." If -there is no evidence to prove the mind of man depraved in organization, -and all the evidence of reason and experience is in favor of its perfect -organization, is it not to be assumed that it is thus perfect? - -To this might be added the teachings of the Bible in the same direction. -But this is deferred to the future volume. In the present illustrative -example, the aim is simply to exhibit the fallacy of _one_ of the -theological theories that has been incorporated as a part of the -teachings of the Bible, thus lessening the respect and confidence -accorded to it, and impeding the true religious development of our race. - -How it has happened that a dogma, which is so contrary to the moral -feelings and the common sense of man, and, at the same time, unsupported -by revelation, should have become so incorporated with the teachings of -the Christian Church, will be set forth in the next article. - - -_History of the Dogma._ - -The history of the dogma of the depraved constitution of the human mind -imparted directly or indirectly by the creative agency of its Maker has -become a matter of profound interest. - -So far as appears, _theories_ on the _philosophy_ of religion did not -agitate the apostolic age. Christianity first spread among the humbler -classes. They felt that they were sinful and miserable in the present -life, and looked with dread and dismay to the dark passage of the grave -and the destinies to follow. They were taught to "believe on the Lord -Jesus Christ," and that thus they would become good and happy now and -forever. This they understood to mean, not a mere intellectual -conviction, but a _practical faith_, in which Christ was received as -their supreme Lord and teacher _by conforming their feelings and conduct -to his teachings_. - -But, after a while, the philosophers and rulers became Christians, and -then commenced the two grand evils: first, the _theories of philosophy_, -and, next, the _enforcing of these theories by pains and penalties_. -About A.D. 400 commenced the discussion of the theory under -consideration. _Pelagius_, a learned and devout man of Great Britain, -aided by his friend Celcius, promulgated the common-sense views on the -nature of mind derived from reason and experience, mainly as set forth -in this volume, and claimed that these views were sustained by the -teachings of the Old and New Testament. He and his friend traveled and -disseminated these views in Great Britain, France, Africa, Italy, and -Palestine, over which Christianity to a great extent prevailed. The -celebrated Augustine, a man of great goodness, talents, and learning, -became their leading antagonist. He set forth the philosophical theories -afterward adopted and taught by Calvin in the form which is now -denominated _the system of High Calvinism_. - -This system starts with the assumption (without proof) that the Creator -_could_ form mind on a more perfect model than that of our race, and -that he _proved_ it by forming the minds of angels and of our first -parents on this pattern. But, as a penalty for one act of disobedience -by them, first their own mental constitution was vitiated. Next, in the -language of standard Calvinists, "Such as man was _after_ the fall, such -children did he beget; corruption, by the righteous judgment of God, -being derived from Adam to his posterity, not by imitation, but by the -propagation of a vicious nature. Wherefore all men are conceived in sin, -and are born children of wrath; unfit for every good connected with -salvation; prone to evil, dead in sins, and, without the Holy Spirit -regenerating them, they neither _will_ nor _can_ return to God, amend -their depraved nature, nor _dispose themselves for its amendment_." - -Men being thus terribly incapacitated for right action, so that they -have no power "to amend their depraved nature," nor even "to dispose -themselves for its amendment," the whole race became liable not only to -the pains and penalties of sin through this life, but to _eternal_ and -hopeless misery beyond the grave. Nor could any one of the race do a -single thing to escape this doom, or to induce the Author of their Being -to pity or help them. Instead of this, a certain portion of the race -were "elected" by God to be restored to the state from which their first -parents fell by "the Holy Spirit regenerating them," while all the rest -were left to eternal torments, "to illustrate God's justice and hatred -of sin!" Moreover, whoever was thus elected was sure to "persevere." -These tenets are usually called the "five points of Calvinism," viz., -_original sin_, _total depravity_, _election_, _regeneration_, and -_saints' perseverance_. - -Pelagius denied that there was any difference between the mental -constitution of Adam and his descendants, or any other connection -between his and their sins than always exists between the sins of -children and those of their parents. Of course, the vitiated nature -imparted directly or indirectly by God, and the tenets based on it, were -denied by him. - -At this period all matters of doctrine were settled by ecclesiastical -councils. The first council on this matter was in Africa, and, led by -Augustine, they condemned the views of Pelagius. The two next councils -were in Palestine, and both sustained his teachings. Next, in Italy, the -Pope, then at the early period of pontifical power, first sustained -Pelagius, but finally, by the exertions of Augustine and his party, was -led to condemn him with the greatest severity. Finally, the emperors -were enlisted against him with their civil pains and penalties. The -result was, Pelagius and his followers suffered the perils and miseries -of civil and ecclesiastical persecution. "And thus," says the historian, -"the Gauls, Britons, and Africans by their councils, and the emperors by -their edicts, demolished this sect in its infancy, and suppressed it -entirely." - -It is very probable that, if Pelagius had had the power and adroitness -of Augustine, the edicts of emperors and decrees of councils would have -maintained _his_ views, and those of Augustine would have gone into -obscurity. But ever since that day the organized power of the Latin, -Greek, and Protestant churches have been arrayed to sustain the theories -thus inaugurated. - -But the common sense and the moral nature of man have maintained a -feeble but ceaseless warfare against the tenets of the Augustinian and -Calvinistic creed, while now this "conflict of ages" is invigorated by -the intervention of a new power. The authority of councils, popes, and -emperors is on the wane, while _the people_ are fast advancing to that -position of umpires in the moral and religious world which they have -gained in the political. - -In this long and unequal struggle, the principal actors since the days -of Pelagius have been, in the first place, _Arminius_ at the time of the -Reformation. While maintaining the foundation dogma of a depraved mental -constitution consequent upon Adam's sin, he strove to give some slight -feature of humanity and tenderness to the consequent system by -maintaining that there was _some_ way in which man, in spite of his -ruined nature, could attain some right feeling and action acceptable to -his Creator, and tending in some degree to remedy the dreadful calamity -inflicted on the race. - -The historian thus narrates: - -"After the appointment of Arminius to the theological chair at Leyden -(University), he thought it his duty to avow and vindicate the -principles which he had embraced, and the freedom with which he -published and defended them exposed him to the resentment of those that -adhered to the theological system of Geneva (Calvinistic), which -prevailed in Holland. The Arminian doctrines gained ground under the -mild and favorable treatment of the magistrates of Holland, and were -adopted by several persons of merit and distinction. The Calvinists -appealed to a _national synod_. Accordingly, the Synod of Dort was -convened (by the States-General), and was composed of ecclesiastical -deputies from the United Provinces, as well as from the Reformed -churches of England, Hessia, Bremen, Switzerland, and the Palatinate. - -"It was first proposed to discuss the principal subjects in dispute, and -that the Arminians should be allowed to state and vindicate the grounds -on which their opinions were founded. - -"But some difference arising as to the proper course of conducting the -debate, _the Arminians were excluded from the assembly, their case was -tried in their absence, and they were pronounced guilty of pestilential -errors, and condemned as corrupters of the true religion_! - -"In consequence of this decision, the Arminians were considered as -enemies to their country and its established religion, and were much -persecuted. They were treated with great severity, deprived of all their -posts and employments, their ministers silenced, and their congregations -suppressed. The great Barnevelt was beheaded, and the learned Grotius -fled and took refuge in France." - -Thus it is seen that, while Pelagius and his followers were wasted by -persecution in the commencement of the Calvinistic system under -Augustine, the attempt to soften its hard features by Arminius was put -down by the same method. - -But, in spite of all such opposition, Arminianism gained ground, and the -Arminian and Calvinistic systems have existed side by side in most -Protestant communions. In the Church of England, and formerly in the -Methodist churches, these two parties have existed. So in the -Presbyterian, Congregational, and Baptist churches, there has always -been a division in reference to the tenets of Calvinism, some holding -them strictly according to Augustine and Calvin, and others more or less -modifying their sterner features by various theories and expositions. - -The main point of difference between these two classes is in reference -to that most disheartening and deplorable tenet of men's entire -inability to "amend their depraved nature," or even to "dispose -themselves for its amendment." The strict Calvinist maintains that the -mind of man is so entirely ruined in its nature that no one but the -Author of mind can rectify it, while he can in no way be moved to this -act of mercy (justice?) by any thing the _unrenewed_ creature can do. -The Arminian sects hold that, though the "natural man" is utterly -incapable of any acceptable moral action in himself, yet, through the -atonement of Jesus Christ, he is endowed with "a gracious supernatural -ability," by which he can accept the offers of salvation. This, it is -supposed, is a statement that most Arminians would accept as expressing -their views. - -In our own country, the earliest leader of an attempt to modify the -Calvinistic system was the celebrated metaphysician, Jonathan Edwards. -While maintaining, as did Arminius, the foundation theory of an utterly -depraved mental constitution of the race as a penalty for the first act -of disobedience, he first labored to prove this penalty to be _just_, -inasmuch as in some mysterious way the whole race existed in Adam, and -sinned just as he did, thus becoming the authors of their own mental -ruin and incapacity. - -And inasmuch as our moral nature revolts from the infliction of -penalties for not doing what there is _no power_ to do, he originated a -metaphysical theory to this effect: that, in spite of the injury -resulting from this first sin of the whole race, there is full power and -obligation in every human being to obey all that the laws of God -demanded, but that man is _unwilling_ instead of _unable_. This -_unwillingness_ is the result of that first sin of the race; and so -great is its pertinacity, that no man ever did or ever will feel or act -right in a single case, from the beginning to the end of life, until -"regenerated by the Holy Spirit." Neither will they do any thing "to -amend their depraved nature," or to "dispose themselves to its -amendment;" nor will any man, before "regeneration by the Holy Spirit," -do a single thing that has even any _tendency_ to gain this Divine aid, -but it is all dependent on "sovereign, unconditional election." Still -worse, the more efforts an unrenewed man makes to love and obey God, the -more wicked he grows, because he is _voluntarily_ resisting increased -light and obligation in refusing to regenerate himself, which, on this -theory, he had full power to do. - -As it respects God, this theory, indeed, relieves his character very -essentially; but as to affording any comfort to man, it only adds a new -thorn to wound sensitive consciences. For no man could possibly help -feeling that when, according to High Calvinism, he had _no power at all_ -to do right, he was relieved from some portion of obligation, even if, -six thousand years ago, he did join Adam in that sinful repast. But -President Edwards and his followers took away this small alleviation, -and put the whole blame entirely on the depraved and guilty creature, -both for the ruin of the fall and the refusal to remedy the evil. - -This attempt to prove that _God does not require men to perform what -they have no power to do_, has been regarded as a most terrific heresy -by the strict Calvinist, while for nearly a hundred years New England -and the whole Presbyterian Church have been agitated by it. Again and -again, some of the wisest and best of their clergy have been arraigned -for this heresy, with the threatened or inflicted penalty of loss of -character, profession, and daily bread for themselves and their -families. Three times the author has seen a revered parent thus -arraigned. And in these ecclesiastical trials, she has herself heard -otherwise sensible persons maintaining that men were required by their -Maker to do what they had no power of _any_ kind to do, under the -penalty of eternal damnation, and that it was a dangerous heresy to -maintain that God did not thus require it. - -Another attempt to modify the Augustinian dogma is found in the work -entitled "The Conflict of Ages," by the Rev. Edward Beecher. The theory -there presented was first started by the great and learned Origen in the -third century, and has been advocated by individuals ever since. It -assumes the entire and fatal depravity of the mental organization, but -relieves the Creator of all blame by assuming that every human mind was -created with a perfect mental organization, and placed in the most -favorable circumstances possible in a _pre-existent state_; and yet the -same sad results then occurred as our race are approaching, viz., the -existence of two classes of minds, the holy and the sinful. Meantime -this world was prepared as a merciful arrangement to afford a _second_ -probation to those who ruined themselves in the pre-existent state. - -This theory entirely relieves the Creator of all blame, but gives no -other help or comfort to the miserable race of man. It certainly _is_ a -comfort to feel that our Maker is not a being who ruins his creatures in -the very process of creation, and then exposes them to eternal, hopeless -misery as the consequence of it. But whoever believes this pre-existent -theory takes the load of a guilty conscience for all he considers as -wrong in his own mental constitution, and for all the dreadful -consequences. - -These several theories all were originated to escape from the inevitable -deduction of reason, that _God, as the author of a depraved constitution -of mind, is himself depraved_. - -And yet neither of them avails but one of the two _pre-existent -theories_, that makes man himself the author of this ruin of his own -mind, either _in_ Adam or _before_ Adam, while neither of these is -supported either by reason or revelation. - -Moreover, neither of these theories _could_ be established by revelation -for want of means to prove a revelation to beings who find themselves -endowed with _miscreated_ minds, as has been shown on pages 287 and 288 -of this volume. - -Another effort to change the hard features of Calvinism was by the New -Haven school of theologians. These gentlemen maintained that _a holy -nature_ and _a sinful nature_ were not what _could be_ created, inasmuch -as all sin implies a knowledge of what a morally right choice is and -power to make such a choice, while it consists not at all in a wrong -_nature_ or _constitution_, but solely in _wrong voluntary action_. - -This is precisely what, as the author supposes, was the doctrine of -Pelagius in opposition to that of Augustine, and for the propagation of -which, popes, emperors, and councils drove Pelagius and his followers -from their churches. - -A similar penalty seemed for a while to await the New Haven innovators; -for, as professors in a theological seminary connected with the most -influential university in the nation, their doctrine on this subject -occasioned a controversy that agitated all the New England as well as -the Presbyterian churches. - -At the same time, an earnest controversy was in progress with the -Unitarian sect, which had adopted this tenet of Pelagius as a part of -their creed. Of course, the charge, both of Pelagianism and -Unitarianism, was rife all over the land against these innovators on the -established creed of the churches. - -To meet this, these gentlemen maintained that they had not essentially -departed from the system of New England divinity as exhibited in the -writings of President Edwards. Thus they had two labors to perform--the -one to maintain the doctrine that sin consisted solely in wrong _action_ -and not at all in _nature_, and the other to show that in this they did -not differ from Edwards. - -In attempting the first, at one time and another, they have maintained -that mankind _since the fall_ are as truly created in God's image as -Adam was; that the nature of man is still like the nature of God; that a -corrupt, depraved, or unholy nature can not be affirmed of the human -mind in any proper use of these terms. - -The inquiry, then, must arise, in many minds that are familiar with the -writings of President Edwards, how it is possible that men so -intelligent and so honest should maintain that on this subject they had -not departed from the system of New England divinity as exhibited by -Edwards. - -To the author this enigma is solved by the character of Edwards's -writings, which, like those of many other metaphysicians who hold -theories contrary to common sense, are _contradictory and inconsistent_. -Thus it is seen that one class of very acute minds find in Edwards's -_Treatise on the Will_ the most complete exposition and defense of -_fatalism_, and thus the author regards it. Another class, equally -acute, claim this same essay as a full exposition and defense of the -contrary doctrine of _free agency_. - -The Augustinian theory of a totally depraved mind, transmitted through -the Catholic Church to its reformed offsets, was received by Edwards. He -perceived that if God was the cause of this depravity, he is the author -of sin, and so he labored to prove that all mankind "sinned in Adam and -fell with him," and thus caused their own depravity. - -He perceived, too, that requiring men to originate holy acts with a -totally depraved nature seemed to demand what they had no power to -perform, and thus made God unjust. So he brought forth his _Treatise on -the Will_ to prove that man had a _natural ability_ to obey God, and a -_moral inability_; and so at once he established _fatalism_ to one class -of minds, and _free agency_ to another. - -Thus it is that the New Haven divines find language in Edwards that -sustains their views, while their antagonists find as much, or more, -that condemns them. - -The ancient followers of Pelagius, the modern Unitarians, and the -leaders of the New Haven school of divines, all hold exactly the -position set forth in this work of the _perfect organization_ of the -human mind, while the only depravity maintained by them is that of -_voluntary action_. At the same time, it is believed that but a very -small portion of the younger clergy of _any_ theological school in New -England, or in a large portion of the Presbyterian churches, would -openly avow a belief in the depraved mental constitution of man as -created by God, either directly at or near birth, or indirectly by -hereditary transmission. - -It is interesting, yet sad, to trace the dominant influence of the -Augustinian theory of a depraved mental constitution in originating most -of the leading sects of the present Christian world. - -Man being assumed to be thus miserably miscreated, and his sole hope -being the gift of the Holy Ghost to recreate, the priesthood soon -claimed to be the only medium through which this gift could pass; and -having the eternal life and death of the soul in their hands, they -speedily thus gained that domestic, civil, and religious power which -made the papal hierarchy the most tremendous tyranny that earth ever -witnessed. - -The question of the transmission of this power through properly ordained -persons was the chief feature of the Episcopal organization. - -Most of the other large sects in this country are descended from the -Puritans, who, as it appears, were the first to institute "a church" as -consisting solely of persons who "profess" to be "regenerated" on the -theory of the renewal of a misformed or depraved mind. - -The Greek, Roman, Episcopal, Scotch, and European Protestants recognize -no such organization, all being born into the Church; and this seems to -have been the case in the first churches of the New Testament, where -parents and _their families_, and all who joined their communities, were -considered as constituting the Christian Church, whether "regenerated" -or not.[4] So, in the Jewish Church, all who submitted to the initiatory -rite were members, without respect to religious attainments in -character. This new principle of organization, originating with the -Puritans, is retained among most sects in this nation, and is the -foundation of their separate organizations. - -Thus the Baptists are separated on the question of the mode of -administering the _rite of admission_ to this Church. - -The Presbyterians and Congregationalists separate on the question of -_appointing the officers_ of this organization. - -The Methodists are an offset from the Episcopal Church, with reference -chiefly to modes of bringing men into their Church. - -All agree that it is "regenerate persons" alone who are fully members of -this organization. - -There are diversities of opinion as to the relation of baptized children -to this body, but none allow them to be admitted to its distinctive -ordinance except they profess to be "regenerated." - -It is a matter for interesting conjecture as to the probable results on -Christendom had the theory of Pelagius been established by pope, -emperor, and councils instead of that of Augustine. - -In that case we may suppose that the efforts and energies of the -churches, instead of to these rites and forms, would have been mainly -directed to the _right training_ of the human mind in obedience to all -the physical, domestic, social, and moral laws of the Creator. - -Instead of instituting two standards of right and wrong, the "common" -and the "evangelical," as is now so generally done, children would have -been taught that all that was just, honorable, benevolent, and lovely in -their feelings and conduct was as acceptable and right to God as it is -to men. Their parents, instead of that sense of helpless inability -resulting from the belief that their little ones could feel and do -nothing but sin until new mental powers were given, and that the gift -was bestowed by the rule of sovereign "election," would have felt that -every successful effort to cultivate all lovely and right habits and -feelings was advancing their offspring nearer to God and their heavenly -home, and that, when their wisdom failed, the promise of "the Comforter" -was given to encourage them in this great work. - -Thus they would expect their children to become "new creatures in Christ -Jesus" by the combined influence of the heavenly and earthly parents -gradually transforming their ignorance and selfishness to knowledge and -benevolence. - -That the theory of Augustine, originally established in the Christian -churches by pains and penalties, is still sustained there by such -influences, is apparent from these facts. - -Although there is a large amount of real virtue and piety that is not -within the pale of any sectarian organization, yet the vast majority of -conscientious persons are either enrolled in _the Church_, or intimately -connected with it in principle and feeling. All this intellectual and -moral power is organized into various denominations, each controlled and -led by a number of highly-educated, conscientious, and religious men. - -With these denominations are connected high positions in the pulpit, -with great influence and liberal salaries; literary institutions, with -posts of honor and competency; and theological seminaries that are the -central ecclesiastical mainsprings of influence. - -Then there are connected with each denomination large voluntary -associations for benevolent purposes, with officers who control large -pecuniary means. Finally, each sect has its quarterlies, monthlies, and -its religious newspapers, whose editors are speaking every day to the -minds of thousands and hundreds of thousands. - -Now it is a fact that this vast array of wealth, position, influence, -and ecclesiastical power is actually combined to sustain these -theological theories. So much is this the case, that a minister, -theological professor, president of a college, secretary of a benevolent -society, or editor of a periodical or newspaper, could not openly deny -this Augustinian tenet but under penalty of the loss of reputation, -position, influence, and the income that sustains himself and family. -Our largest and best theological seminaries demand an avowal of belief -in this dogma as a condition of holding any professorship, and in some -of them it must be renewed by all the professors every few years. - -At the same time, this dogma of a depraved mental constitution -transmitted from Adam is inwrought into all the standard works of -theology, the sermons, the prayers, the sacred poetry, the popular -literature, and even the Sunday-school and family literature of -childhood. - -The power of such influences is intensified by the present stringency of -sectarian organization. By those who have marked the tendencies of the -religious world, it will be remembered that, at the time the -associations for religious benevolence began their great work, all sects -seemed to be harmonizing and uniting in the efforts to send Bibles, -tracts, and missionaries to the destitute. At this period, the questions -that separated Christians in reference to modes of ordination, baptism, -and church officers, seemed to disappear as matters of small moment -among all whose great aim was to save the lost of every name and nation. - -But, while this served to liberalize the feelings and opinions of good -men in all sects, it soon became apparent to the leaders that, if these -tendencies were not counteracted, the sects would all come together. - -If this should happen, where would be all the great machinery that was -supported by these several denominations for their distinctive aims? - -Soon the tide turned, and, though now there is less sectarian -bitterness, and most sects can allow each other to be Christians with -different names and badges, yet each is active for its own separate -interests more decidedly than ever. And now the _leading_ concern of -each denomination seems to be, to increase its own separate churches, -schools, colleges, theological seminaries, religious periodicals, and -benevolent associations, not because the salvation of the lost depends -on these distinctive matters, but chiefly as modes of increasing the -_extent_, _respectability_, and _influence_ of their sect. In order to -do this, the importance of the points which divide each from the other -must be magnified; for if there is but a trifling difference between an -Old School and New School Church, or a Baptist, Congregational, or a -Presbyterian, then, in small places, and especially in our new -settlements, all these would unite in one large, harmonious church, that -could properly support all its own ordinances, and send of its surplus -to supply the destitute. On the contrary, if these differences are -magnified, there will be two, three, or four small churches, all -contending with each other, poorly supporting their own ordinances, and, -instead of helping the destitute, sending to other churches of their own -sect for help. - -Thus it is that we see vast sums raised every year to multiply these -needless, weak, and militant churches all over the land. There are facts -on this subject that should be deeply pondered.[5] - -So in regard to education; although intelligence has diminished the -acerbity of sectarianism, it has led to a higher appreciation of -educational institutions as an element of _sectarian influence_ and -_respectability_. From this has come the struggle to multiply colleges -and female seminaries in each of the several denominations. Each is now -acting _as a sect_ in starting new institutions all over the land, that -demand immense investments for buildings, apparatus, and endowments, and -this without reference to the actual wants of the community. For -example, in Indiana, where the low state of common school education -makes such institutions least patronized, there are _eleven endowed_ -institutions, with an aggregate income from these endowments of $14,000 -_per annum_, besides tuition. In Ohio there are _twenty-six_ colleges -and professional schools, with an annual income from endowments of -$25,000; and yet, as appears in the public prints, $100,000 has been -subscribed in one city in this same state to start another college for -the Old School Presbyterians, who are expected to raise as much more -among that sect. Besides endowments to support teachers, vast sums are -expended in buildings, some of which are standing unused for the purpose -for which the money to build them was given. This is a fair specimen of -what is transpiring in most of the other states in raising new -institutions or increasing the funds of those already started. In this -way, two, three, and four colleges are often found as competitors in a -section that could properly patronize scarcely one. - -After each sect has thus reared an institution, it must then struggle to -find pupils, and thus multitudes of young boys, who are to go into -future pursuits where such knowledge will be of little or no service, -are pressed into a Latin and Greek course, which probably the larger -portion of them forsake before it is completed, with little knowledge of -ancient literature, and far less of their own mother tongue. The waste -of educational benefactions in this way is little realized, while the -effect of congregating the young in boarding-school life, away from home -and parental influence, is most disastrous. - -How can it be otherwise? To take the unformed youth at the most -excitable period of the nervous system, at the point where temptations -are strongest, and habits of self-control the weakest, away from -mothers, sisters, and home influences; herd them promiscuously with good -and bad; stimulate the brain to excess; end all the healthful domestic -exercise, and what could be expected but just such wrecks of health, -morals, home habits, and all that is good and pure, as is constantly -going on in such institutions? - -If parents could hear the details that have come from mothers and their -young sons of the experiences of boarding-school and college life all -over the land, especially in reference to that most contaminating and -horrible literature and prints that no care can exclude, they would -understand only a small part of the evils included in such institutions -for the young. - -Not only colleges, but female seminaries, and even private schools, are -becoming more and more sectarian, as especially patronized by some one -denomination, and relying on this for success. - -All this sectarian influence in education is, in fact, operating to -sustain the Augustinian theories _by the pains and penalties_ that first -enforced them; for no teacher of a school, or college, or female -seminary could avow a dissent from theories so powerfully sustained, -without subjecting himself, his institution, and his sect to attacks -from other sects and institutions, as one mode of supplanting a rival. - -It was this powerful array of antagonistic influences that for years -withheld the author from any public expression of some of the views set -forth in this work. - -It has been stated in the introduction that, while teaching mental -science, in connection with the Bible, to highly gifted minds, an octavo -volume was printed, but not published, which embraced the leading -features of this work. In that, the principles of reason and -interpretation were _not_ applied to the theories of a depraved mental -constitution, which at that time were not, to her own mind, -satisfactorily solved, but to theories on the character and atoning -sacrifice of Jesus Christ, where relief was first experienced by the -writer. - -On taking advice as to the publication of such a work, it became clear -that it would probably result in such powerful theological influences as -would end a connection with a public institution, and all labors as a -teacher. - -In obedience to the counsel of friends, it was concluded to go quietly -on as an educator, and work out practically all that could be done -without innovating on accepted opinions, and wait till time and -circumstances should afford more maturity and completeness to the -writer's own views; for it was soon perceived that no one ever objected -to having children trained exactly according to the author's present -views, provided nothing was said against the accepted theological -theories. So faithfully has this method been pursued, that it is -probable that there is not an individual with whom the writer has been -associated as an educator, who will not, for the first time, learn her -views on the Augustinian and Calvinistic theories from this work; while, -even in her own family circle, though opinions have been expressed -freely, all discussions on this subject have been avoided. - -In pursuing the course of a practical educator, the first years were -spent mainly in the intellectual department, at the period when the -"higher branches" first began to enter as a part of female culture. -Surrounded by some of the most gifted female minds in the country as -both teachers and pupils, and all excited by the interest of pioneers in -the effort to elevate the standard of female education, there resulted -such an amount of intellectual activity and enthusiasm as has never been -witnessed by the author before or since. - -Ignorant of the laws of health, and unaware of any danger from excess, -the result was such entire and irretrievable prostration of the nervous -system as forbade forever any farther labor as a practical teacher. - -Extensive journeyings to restore health among a widely-dispersed family -connection led to frequent reunions with former pupils. Thence resulted -a deep conviction of the necessity of _training the domestic habits and -tastes_ of young girls as had never yet been attempted, and of the -extreme suffering and _ill health_ consequent on the neglect of it as _a -part of school education_. This led to two works on Domestic Economy, -one of which was designed as a text-book for girls at school, and the -other for their use after they became housekeepers. - -Continued ill health, inducing frequent resort to health establishments, -where invalids from all classes were congregated, increased the -conviction that modes of education and other causes were fatally -undermining national health, especially that of women. Thus originated a -work on Health, and another on Physiology and Physical Training. - -Incapacitated from labor as a teacher, the only field of effort to the -author was in more general efforts to interest her own sex to enlarged -and _organized_ efforts to secure the proper training of woman for her -distinctive duties, and also to provide _employment_ for her in her -appropriate profession. - -Two small works addressed to American women on this subject were issued -by her, and two organizations were the result: one conducted by ladies -in Boston, and one by Governor Slade as General Agent of the Board of -National Popular Education. - -As both of these restricted their efforts mainly to providing employment -for teachers already educated, the next attempt was to secure an -organization to prepare woman for her _distinctive duties_ on a more -complete and comprehensive scale. - -In this attempt, it was perceived that the other sex have always secured -proper attention to any particular department of education by -_endowments to support highly-educated teachers to give their whole time -to that object_. Thus chemistry, agriculture, and the practical sciences -are made honorable, and are insured as branches of liberal instruction. -The question then arose, Why should not this method be taken to make -woman's _distinctive_ profession honorable, and to secure a proper -training for it? - -The business of a woman is divided into three as distinct departments as -the liberal professions of law, medicine, and divinity for men, which -are so honored and endowed. Nor are they less important or universal. -For, in the first place, woman is to train the human mind at just that -period when principles, tastes, and habits are most firmly fixed; next, -she has the care of the human body all through its period of -development, when the physical habits are formed, and also in periods of -sickness for all ages. Lastly, she has charge of the whole circle of -domestic economy, and of all the _home_ interests of the family state. -Educator, nurse, and housekeeper, these three departments are not less -in importance than law, medicine, and divinity. - -The leading feature, then, in this attempt was to secure an organization -of American women, who should aim to establish model institutions for -woman, that should prepare her _thoroughly and properly_ for the three -distinctive employments of her profession, by means of endowments to -support highly-educated teachers for this express object. In all other -female institutions, the training of the _intellect_ has been the -leading object; in these, the preparation of woman for her distinctive -duties was to be the leading object. - -To the common remark that the mothers must do this _at home_, it is -replied, in the first place, that the mothers, to a great extent--_as -the general rule, having but few exceptions_--are not qualified to do -this; and, next, if they were, they have not the _health_, or they have -not the _time_, or they have not the _will_ to do so. When men wish to -perfect and honor any profession, they provide _endowments_ to sustain -teachers of the highest order. Thus, for example, though it may be said -that farmers can best train their sons for their own profession, still -agricultural professorships in our colleges, and teachers sustained by -endowments, are found to be indispensable to honor and raise that -pursuit to a _science_ and a _profession_. - -While the young women of the nation see every thing else more honored -and provided for than the very profession and future business of their -lives, they will grow up to neglect and despise such duties. - -The education of woman, to be what Heaven designed for the race, should -unite the _home training_ of the parents with the _school training_ of -the teacher. Instead of taking young girls from all domestic interests -and pursuits, and turning all the energies of their nervous system into -the intellectual department of the brain, there should be an equable and -healthful training, at once, of the bodily powers, the social and -domestic habits, the intellect, and the moral nature; and in effecting -this, the parents and the teachers should _work together_ harmoniously. -It is in reference to this that the tendency of this age and country to -conduct the education of the higher and middling classes in -_boarding-schools_ instead of _at home_ is most disastrous. -Boarding-schools should be the exceptions to meet the wants of a sparse -population. Instead of this, the country sends its daughters to city -boarding-schools, and the city sends to country boarding-schools, and so -_home_ education is becoming more and more neglected. - -The consequences to the health, happiness, and moral interests of woman -are more and more disastrous. - -In reference to this, the efforts of the above association have been -confined to establishing what it is hoped would become _model -institutions_ in the _centres of influence_ of the states where they -were located, in which the funds should _not_ be spent in providing -great buildings to take children away from all home influences and -domestic pursuits, but rather in providing such teachers and influences -as would have a direct bearing on the homes of the pupils, and aid the -parents in cultivating _home habits_, _home virtues_, and _home tastes_ -and _pursuits_. - -This brief history of the writer's efforts is given because its results -will now be seen to form a part of the "history of the dogma" which is -the subject of this section. - -For, during the whole period of these efforts to promote the _right -training of the human mind by woman as the Heaven-appointed minister for -this end_, the influence of this dogma has been constantly forced on -attention as the real antagonistic force. That is to say, the whole -energies of the Christian Church, in its distinctive character, are -organized to remedy the evil _after the mind is educated wrong_, while -little is attempted by the powerful agency of _organization_ to secure -its _right education_. In proof of this, it will be seen that all the -great benevolent organizations for which collections are enforced from -the pulpit are for adults, with one only seeming exception. There is an -organization to send Bibles, another to send tracts and colporteurs, -another to send missionaries abroad, another to send home-missionaries, -another for the sailor, another for the slaves, another to educate -ministers, another to raise up colleges, another for temperance, and so -on. All these have as their direct aim those who are educated wrong, and -are to be redeemed from sinful habits. Not one has any direct reference -to the _formation of right habits in the daily training of every-day -life_. - -The Sunday-school is the only seeming exception. But this is only a -weekly exercise of an hour or two, in which every sect secures the -training of its children in its own religious system, while this system, -in most cases, is based on the Augustinian doctrine of the inability of -children to feel or do a single right thing till they are "regenerated," -while not only the teaching, but the Sunday libraries for children all -enforce this dogma. The practical influence of this, though counteracted -more or less by other influences, is fairly illustrated in the mental -history of the author in the Introduction. - -Thus the Christian Church has all its organizations to _cure_ diseased -and miseducated mind, and not a single one to _prevent_ this ruin by its -right training. - -This being so, this effort to promote the neglected and yet great end of -Christian effort has been looked on with indifference, or as a small -concern to receive its mite, while all others are to receive their -hundreds and thousands. - -Moreover, the enterprise has been looked upon with jealousy by many -whose attention has been called to it as a _covert_ sectarian movement -to promote the interests of that denomination with which some of its -movers have been connected. Then, too, because it really has not favored -any one sect, it has secured the special favor and sympathy of none. -There has never been a time when its movers have not been made to -understand that success in raising endowments would be certain if the -anti-sectarian feature could be relinquished, and the enterprise could -assume a sectarian banner. - -The most influential clergy of the large sects are engaged in -denominational enterprises, to found colleges or theological seminaries, -or to establish book or newspaper agencies _devoted to the interests of -their sect_. The great body of laymen who have wealth to bestow in large -sums are more or less influenced by their clergymen, either as personal -friends or as spiritual advisers. Especially is this true of the few -benevolent ladies who have such independent means as to be able to -furnish endowments. - -And thus it has come to pass that this first attempt yet known to -organize Christians _as Christians_, to train woman for her great work -of forming the physical, social, domestic, and moral habits of childhood -by methods deemed indispensable by man for his professions, is on the -verge of failure, after four years of trial. And this is not owing to -the fact that the motives, or the plan, or the conductors of it have -been extensively distrusted, or in any particular disapproved. On the -contrary, the leading clergymen of most of the Protestant sects have -given their unqualified approval, while the Board of Managers embraces a -large proportion of the most distinguished female educators and -authoresses, with some of the most distinguished business men and -financiers of our land. At the same time, the agents and educators who -have performed for four years the details of the enterprise have secured -the entire approval and confidence of the public as to their -qualifications. - -The real difficulty at the root of all is the indifference to the -training of the habits of childhood, resulting from the long-established -dogma of a misformed mind, whose propagated incapacity is not within the -reach of educational training. Meantime, the chief energies of the -Christian Church are now tending to the extending of sectarian -organizations, based on peculiarities as to baptism, ordination, and -church officers, which no intelligent person believes are either -indispensable to salvation, or even so important as to be subjects of -direct Divine commands. - -It is this view of the subject that has at last brought the author to -relinquish any farther practical educational efforts, and now to attempt -whatever may be in her power in directing public attention to what seems -to be one grand impediment in the Christian world to the right training -and development of the human race. - -In presenting this work to the special attention of the laity, the -author does not intend to imply that theologians are not to take the -lead in all discussions and investigations that are to guide and -enlighten mankind in their special department. - -The aim is rather to lessen the general impression that the whole matter -is to be left exclusively to them; that it is a _professional_ concern, -in which a layman is to resign his own judgment as he does to his -physician or lawyer. Instead of this, there are some reasons why the -laity have superior advantages to the clergy in cases where -long-accepted theological errors are to be eradicated. - -In the first place, they are free from the strong influence of _a -system_ into which the mind has been _educated_. The power of a system -over men who are trained to reason, and who reason on that subject which -involves all the greatest interests of existence both for time and -eternity, is most insidious and incalculable. To this is added the -reverence, love, and veneration felt by pious persons for those great -and good men who, like Augustine, Calvin, and Jonathan Edwards, have -been the revered masters of theological systems for ages. Under these -two influences, every new opinion is compared with _a system_, and when -it is seen to be inconsistent with it, all the veneration attached, both -to that and to its authors and advocates, stands opposed to any -innovation. - -The powerful influence of educational training, and of love and -reverence to a revered parent, has taught the author to understand and -sympathize with other minds similarly influenced. - -From all such biasing influences the laity are far more free than their -clerical guides. - -Add to this the fact that the "pains and penalties" attached to all -change in theological opinions have very little reach among the laity. -Any layman, if he adopts new views, can quietly withdraw from one -religious communion and join another more congenial, or remain -unconnected with any, while no man can call him to an account. But men -connected with parishes, colleges, and all educational institutions, are -subject to the supervision of councils, presbyteries, synods, and many -other organs of surveillance, making it indispensable that all changes -should be known to the public. Thus profession, reputation, and daily -bread become more or less involved. - -And here it is but justice to express the author's convictions, which an -extensive acquaintance with the clergy of various sects has induced, -that there is not another body of men, of equal number and education, -who are so free from personal considerations of this kind in forming and -maintaining opinions. - -The entrance on the clerical profession in this country involves the -sacrifice of all hope of wealth and its advantages, and includes often -poverty and a painful dependence on the vacillating favor of parishes; -so that, to a man of talents and worldly ambition, the command to enter -this profession is very nearly equivalent to that of the Great Master's, -"Sell all that thou hast and give to the poor, and come and follow me." - -But while allowing that, as a class, this profession is, most of all, -free from biasing influences of the kind indicated, it can not but be -allowed that they are subject to like temptations as other men, and that -these considerations must have more influence with them than with the -laity, who are exposed to little or nothing of this kind. - -To this, add the fact that men in other professions are far more -habituated to look at all questions in a _practical_ relation, and to -use the principles of _common sense_ more than the principles of _a -system_. - -The writer has had frequent occasion to notice how the well-trained -reasoners of other professions throw aside the theories and systems of -theology, and settle down on the great practical truths of Christianity. - -It has sometimes been a matter of wonder to perceive how little -attention is often given by some of the most gifted and well-trained -laity, even those that are devoutly religious, to questions deemed of -paramount and absorbing interest by the clergy. - -In presenting this work to public attention, the author is not animated -with the expectation of any immediate or very striking results. - -Long-established and time-honored opinions, especially when they are -entwined with the sacred hopes and interests of religion, are changed -only by slow and gradual transitions, and these, often, almost -imperceptible. - -It is the hope of the author to do something to promote at least a -_renewed discussion_ of these subjects, under more favorable auspices -than have heretofore existed. - -The circumstances that favor and indicate such a renewal are, in the -first place, a gradual change that has been going on the last thirty -years in the theological world as the result of discussions on these -very subjects. Some of the most candid and acute minds that have been -interested in such discussions have, more and more, been led to feel the -difficulties involved in the accepted theory of Augustine; and though -few have come to such clear convictions on the subject as to feel -warranted in taking any public stand as innovators or reformers, many -are ready to examine and discuss in a very different attitude of mind -from what has ever before been so extensively experienced. - -One striking indication of this change is the almost universal neglect -of "indoctrinating preaching" among the younger clergy in those sects -where, forty years ago, it was deemed indispensable to success to thus -establish the "five points of Calvinism." - -A still more important change is an increase in that _practical_ -preaching that urges on the consciences of men all their domestic, -social, and moral duties, _as constituting an essential part of -religion, as truly as the affections toward God and the special duties -owed to him_. - -An equal or greater change is apparent among the laity. The strong -Calvinistic doctrines that used to be so reverently received are either -simply tolerated or quietly rejected. This is particularly the case with -mothers and teachers, both in the family and in the secular and Sunday -schools. Thousands of practical, tender mothers utterly refuse to teach -their little ones that a depraved nature has descended to them from -Adam, and that they can never perform any thing that is right or -pleasing to God till this nature is recreated; or, if they use such -language, it is with explanations entirely un-Calvinistic. - -Instead of this, they teach their offspring that they can please and -obey their Heavenly Parent as truly and acceptably as they do their -earthly parents; that when they have so learned to love and please Him -(or to feel and act right) that it is their _chief desire_ thus to do, -they have a _new life_. This "new birth," they also teach, is the result -of that aid from the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, which both parents and -children so need that they can never succeed without it, and yet which -is promised to all who earnestly desire it, and seek it by proper -methods. - -Multitudes of parents and teachers are pursuing this method in churches -whose ministers would entirely revolt from the idea of denying the -Augustinian theory or the system of Calvin resting upon it. Many are -doing this, unconscious that they are taking a course that is contrary -to the standards of their Church. - -In conclusion, the author would ask attention to the chief points -presented in this volume. - -The main question is, are these principles of reason or common sense, -and the rules for interpreting language here set forth, accepted as -guides in deciding the great questions of life? - -Next, are the deductions gained by their aid as to what can be learned -without a direct revelation from the Creator accepted? - -Lastly, is the Augustinian theory of a depraved mental constitution -consequent on the sin of the first parents of the race, as tried by -these principles, supported either by reason or the Bible; and, if not, -should not all men renounce it, both theoretically and practically? - -In answering this last, it is to be remembered that the question is not -one of _fact_ as to the _depraved action_ of mind, but of the -_philosophy_ of this fact, or _the cause_ of this wrong action. A man -may not be able to form any satisfactory theory on this question, and be -content, as the early Christians used to be, to remain without one. The -repudiation of the Augustinian theory does not necessarily involve the -adoption of any other, while it does remove insurmountable difficulties -from just and generous minds in accepting the Bible as of Divine -authority while encumbered with what seems so contrary both to the moral -sense and the common sense of mankind. - - * * * * * - -It has been the privilege of the author all her life to be intimately -associated, by family and other connections, with the ministers of -religion in a variety of denominations--those intelligent, excellent, -and pious men who, more than any other class, can understand that heavy -burden of spirit connected with that awful subject, _the eternal loss of -the human soul_. - -Before closing, they will permit a few inquiries in reference to this -subject. The almost universal cessation of "revivals" of religion, the -diminished attendance of the masses on Sabbath worship, the decrease in -the relative proportion of the ministry, the diminution of spirituality -and the consequent laxness in the Church, the increase of skepticism and -infidelity of various grades, the terrific rush of worldliness on all -classes, as wealth, and luxury, and temptations of all kinds abound, are -not all these signs of the times of fearful import, foreshadowing either -some dreadful judgments, or the advent of some moral forces that are -appropriate to such a crisis? - -In this position of the moral world, is it to be supposed that theology -alone, of all departments of science, has reached its culminating point, -so that there is no possibility of improvement? Is there not manifestly -needed far more powerful motives than any now wielded to stop the -inrushing tide of worldliness? In former times, when revivals abounded, -it was the principle of _fear_ that was first appealed to with such -wonderful results. But where now are such appeals made as once shook -men's consciences with fears of "_the wrath to come_?" - -If such preaching abounds in any quarter of our nation, where is it? In -all her travels the writer finds it wanting, and the testimony of others -is similar. - -Here, now, is the great question: Could the ministry _now_ preach the -_distinctive_ theories of Calvinism, and at the same time those awful -views of the _eternal loss of the soul_, warranted by Scripture -language, with any prospect of being sustained by the moral sentiments -of the great body of benevolent and intelligent hearers? Would not some -be driven to reckless worldliness, others to infidelity, others to -Universalism, others to another style of preaching, till the remainder -could scarcely maintain any preaching at all? Is not this perceived and -felt by many ministers, and is not this one great reason why that -terrible doctrine, on which the whole Gospel is based, is now so hidden -or so slightly recognized in the pulpit ministrations? - -And yet, to the writer, it seems that this very doctrine, so plain and -awful in Holy Writ, could be so drawn forth by the light of reason alone -as to furnish a power of motive now almost unwielded. It seems as if the -terrible exhibitions of this volume in the chapters on _Habit_, and on -the _Wrong Action of Mind in a Future State_, might be wrought out by a -man of talent and eloquence so as to draw such audiences as once -thronged around Whitfield, and with equal results. What, then, could be -done with the added power of revelation, dissevered from obstructing -theories? - -When the writer looks back on her own mental history for the last thirty -years, and feels how every step of her life, during the whole of that -period, has been regulated by the overmastering pressure of this -tremendous subject, and when she is sure that a conviction that no such -awful dangers beset our race would bring her life on to just that level -where so many Christians complain that they find themselves, the query -will often arise whether ministers who _say_ so little about the matter, -and those professed Christians who _act_ so little in consistence with -it, _really do believe it_? And yet, when her own difficulties in -expressing all that has been thought and felt are recalled, it is -understood how others too may have been equally embarrassed and -restrained. - -In regard to the main topics of this work, is not every minister called -to decide, _practically_, between these two theories? - -The first is, that the great and leading aim of all Christian -organization should be _to train new-born minds aright_, and that it is -the special office of the ministry to influence the _educators_ of the -race to the right performance of this, their chief duty. - -In doing this, it is to be assumed that the end for which we are made is -"to glorify God" by obedience to those laws by which "the most happiness -with the least evil" is to be secured to His vast eternal empire. - -That, at the _first birth_ of a child, it is "impossible, in the nature -of things," for it to feel and act for the happiness of others till it -has learned to know what gives pleasure and pain to _self_, and to -understand that there are other beings who can thus enjoy and suffer; so -that a child, by its very nature, is at first obliged to be _selfish_ in -the _exercise_ of faculties which, _in reference to the great whole_, -are perfect. - -That the "second birth" is the sudden or the gradual entrance into a -life in which the will of the Creator is to control the self-will of the -creature; while, under the influence of love and gratitude to Him, and -guided by "faith" in his teachings, _living chiefly for the great -commonwealth_ takes the place of _living chiefly for self_. For this, -the supernatural aid of the Holy Spirit is promised to all who seek it; -and, without this aid, success is hopeless. But the grand instrumentality -is the _right training_ of parents and teachers. - -Then, in reference to that great change of character which -wrongly-educated mind must pass in order to gain eternal life, there are -three modes of expression in the Bible in regard to that, viz., "love to -God," "faith in Jesus Christ," and "repentance." - -According to all uses of these terms, in _practical_ matters, _love_ is -nothing which does not include obedience or conformity of will and -action to the being loved. _Faith_, or _belief_, is nothing unless it -includes its fruits of obedience. _Repentance_ is nothing unless it -includes ceasing to do evil. - -_Obedience_ to the laws of God, physical, social, moral, and religious, -is the grand, indispensable requisite. Now, when any person is so -engaged in striving to obey all these laws that it is the _first -interest_ of the mind, then there is a "new heart;" and so great is the -change from the life of self-indulgence and disobedience to one of such -earnest desire and efforts to obey God, that it is properly expressed by -the terms "born again" and "created anew." - -The contrasted theory is, that the chief end of man is "to glorify God," -without, perhaps, any very definite ideas of what this signifies; that -our whole race comes into life with dwarfed and ruined moral powers, so -that it is as impossible, before a "second birth," to feel and act -right, as it is for a corrupt tree to bear good fruit, or a bitter -fountain to send forth sweet waters; and that the great end of Christian -organizations is to secure and administer certain appointed methods by -which God re-creates these diseased minds. Thus all training, all -instructions, all good habits, are nothing as having any fitness toward -either preparing a child for eternal happiness, or inducing God to -re-create its mind. For it is "unconditional election," and not any -foreseen act, either of parent or child, that decides their eternal -destiny. - -Can any minister preach without assuming one of these two theories as -the very foundation-principle of his ministrations? And is this matter -any the less a _practical_ one to all the laity? - -During the period in which the author has been engaged as a practical -laborer in the field of education, her chief earthly reliance has been -on the counsel, sympathy, and co-operation of _her own sex_; and in -closing a work especially dedicated to them, a few parting words may be -permitted. - -This work is offered, not as one of metaphysics and theology, to -exercise the intellect alone. It presents the grand practical question -of life to _woman_ as the mother, the educator, the nurse, and the -fountain of home sympathies for the race. It is the question over which -every Christian mother ponders with aching heart as every new immortal -is brought to her arms. It is the question where every Christian teacher -stands in awe, as, gazing into the dark futurity over the dim ocean of -eternity, each young mind is felt to be a voyager whose frail and -solitary bark is soon to be launched. The Protestant mother or teacher, -with the Bible in her hands, can not, as in the Catholic Church, throw -off this tremendous responsibility on to _her priest_. She may go to her -minister for aid, but at the last _she must decide for herself_ what is -that path which Jesus Christ decides to be right in guiding the lambs of -His flock through such awful dangers. - -Here, then, is the great practical question on which depends the _life -of the soul_, and for ETERNITY! and every parent and every teacher must -decide on which theory the young minds committed to their care shall be -trained. - -In contemplating the discussions that must ere long be renewed on these -great topics, and in such forms as to involve, not theologians alone or -chiefly, but _the_ _people_, and especially the most intelligent of her -own sex, the writer recalls with deep interest her early efforts as a -pioneer in elevating the course of female education. Then she supposed -herself the first, as she was among the first, to introduce such works -as Butler's Analogy, Mental Philosophy, and a Mathematical course as a -regular part of female education. And as she recalls the hundreds of -bright, vigorous, and independent minds under her care thus trained to -reason accurately, and now scattered as mothers and influential members -of society in almost every state in the Union, and then remembers, too, -how many institutions all over the land have for years pursued the same -course, she can not but thankfully believe that the Almighty Teacher and -Ruler was thus preparing her sex for these very responsibilities. - -In relinquishing that educational enterprise which for years has -absorbed her time and strength, while as yet it is so imperfectly -understood and so little appreciated, she asks, with tender and grateful -memories, the attention, not only of her dear former pupils, but of that -multitude of noble and benevolent women who, at so many times and -places, have afforded her their sympathy and aid, to what is still -farther offered on this subject in the closing note.[6] - -[4] The word "church" in the New Testament, in the Greek, signifies -"assembly" or "congregation," and not an organization of regenerate -persons. - -[5] See Note C. - -[6] See Note D. - - - - -NOTES. - - -NOTE A, page 17. - -Some atheists imagine that they escape the difficulty by assuming that -matter is eternal, and thus uncreated. But the question is, not in -reference to the existence of matter, but as to the _organization_, -_contrivances_, and _changes of matter_, all of which prove the -existence of some Intelligent First Cause. - -The theory of an "infinite series of changes and causes without a -beginning" is a contradiction in terms, as can be shown to any person -who understands the use of definitions, and no other person is prepared -to discuss such subjects intelligently. - -Let it be remembered that the author, in this work, has not attempted to -present a complete exhibition of _all_ the intuitive truths, but only -such a portion of them as are adapted to the design of this work. At the -same time, by a close analysis, some here presented as distinct -intuitions could be shown to be specifics, under a more general -proposition. But in a popular work, and for the purposes aimed at, this -close analysis is inappropriate. - - -NOTE B, page 192. - -"Man's chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him forever," is an -expression equivalent to what is here maintained, if we assume that the -chief "glory" of God consists in the rectitude and happiness of his vast -empire of intelligent minds. - -Various other terms used to express the ultimate end of the Creator in -his works, _accurate definitions_ would show to be simply different -words chosen to express the same idea as that here presented. - - -NOTE C, page 314. - -In the _Home Missionary_ for February, 1856, is the following mournful -exhibition of the results of these sectarian divisions: - - -"_Subdivision a Source of Weakness and Destitution._ - -"Now it is but too evident that our American Christendom is prosecuting -its work, in some respects, at a disadvantage. True, funds have been -furnished with a commendable liberality; but, worse than a dearth of -money--which a few months of vigorous effort, or a prosperous turn in -the market might remove--there is a dearth of men. Fields are explored, -openings are found, communities are fast forming, and even make urgent -requests for ministers, but often there are no ministers to send. The -great exigency of the missionary work now is the want of capable and -devoted _men_. - -"However we may charge this upon the lukewarmness of the churches, upon -the absence of correct views respecting ministerial support--and its -consequent meagreness--or on the prevalence among young men of a subtile -skepticism, we may not shut our eyes to the fact that the want must -continue as long as that unfortunate division of the field continues, -which must ever come from divided counsels and sectarian rivalries. -Destitutions are likely to last while alienations last. - -"Every denomination naturally feels that it must be strong in the -centres of population; and so, without asking whether the Church of -Christ needs so many congregations there, we crowd our six separate -enterprises, of as many rival names, into a little place where two -churches would do more good than the half dozen. - -"The evils that result from this course are many and various. One -consequence of it is a weakening of the unity and the moral force of the -Church as a whole. Another is the diminution of the numbers and the -strength of the several local societies, so that an amount of assistance -many times greater is needed, and this need is prolonged for years, when -often its period should have been reckoned in months. But a third -consequence of this overcrowding of one portion of the missionary field -is the _destitution_ of other portions. While many villages are so well -supplied as to leave pastors and churches leisure to quarrel, many rural -districts and young communities are almost totally neglected. If all the -preachers in the United States were evangelical men, well educated and -devoted to their work, they would no more than supply the real wants of -the country, upon a system of wise distribution. On a system, then, so -unfortunate as this, its destitutions are not supplied; and we hear from -all quarters the cry, Send more laborers into the harvest. - - -"_A Cause of Unwillingness to enter the Ministry._ - -"Again, a fourth consequence of our denominational divisions, and -another cause of destitution, is seen in the difficulty of persuading -young men of enterprise to enter the ministry. When we consider how the -field of ministerial labor is cut up into small parishes, affording to -men of superior capacity but a limited scope for some of their best -qualities--with scarcely the possibility of much improvement--promising, -also, only a meagre support and a moderate usefulness, we can not wonder -that young men who are conscious of the ability to occupy a larger -sphere, and whose nature thirsts after something stirring and an -opportunity for a hopeful struggle and for achievement, should often -shrink from the seeming narrowness and hopelessness of the work which is -here offered them. We need not praise the truthfulness of their -appreciation in all particulars, but have we, on the whole, a right to -anticipate a different decision? No. The result is manifestly one that -must be _expected_. There is not the least doubt that this diminution in -the size of parishes is also a diminution in the attractiveness of the -pastoral office. And so this very multitude of denominations, which has -increased the want of ministers, operates, in more ways than one, to -diminish the supply. - - -"_A Discouragement and a Weariness._ - -"But, what is yet worse, it tends to _injure_ the ministry. No preacher -but has felt, at times, the depressing influence of a small audience. A -large proportion of the missionaries at the West feel this at all times; -and often the intellect is jaded, and the heart is wearied out, from the -want of that natural stimulus which the presence of a multitude and the -pressure of an important occasion alone can afford. If it is -discouraging to find your people coming out in small numbers on rainy -Sabbaths, what is it to have nothing but small numbers the year through, -and year after year? How must this tend to check youthful enthusiasm, -and to dull the fires of intellectual and moral energy. If our brethren -of the West have not fallen behind themselves, it certainly is not due -to the inspiration of large audiences or of populous and able parishes; -for, with so many divisions in such sparse and unstable communities, -these can not be otherwise than small. Good men will labor on, indeed, -under all these discouragements; and the greatness of their faith will -make their work and achievement great. They may triumph over these -difficulties, but they contend at disadvantage; and the difficulties are -_real_, notwithstanding the highest fidelity. - - -"_Number and Policy of Denominations._ - -"There are more than _forty_ religious denominations in the United -States. Four of these--the N. S. Presbyterians, the O. S. Presbyterians, -the Congregationalists and Baptists, together with the Methodists and -Episcopalians--habitually esteem it a matter of obligation to be -represented in every community where it is possible to gather a church -of their name, and, in establishing these churches, deem it no part of -their duty to consider, in the least, the welfare of any congregation of -a different name that may have been previously gathered. We have six -great evangelical churches, each one of whom feels bound to push forward -its own growth, with a disregard of the interests of all other churches, -which is equivalent to an ignoring of their existence, and, in practical -effect, identifies the Kingdom of God with the denomination. It is very -much as though each one had laid it down as the fundamental principle of -its procedure--WE are the saints. - - -"_Waste of Resources._ - -"Now it is obvious that this system must bring about an unfortunate -distribution of labor and a great waste of power; in some localities -multiplying churches to excess, and leaving other regions destitute; -making the town congregations weak, from their very multitude, and -losing the happy moment in communities that are just forming from the -want of the right men to occupy them at the right moment; while many -laborers abuse as much time and strength in working against each other -as they use in working for Christ. So churches are born weak, and are -compelled to worry through a long and fretful infancy, are kept on a -diet irritatingly low, and compelled to struggle, with slow and -uncertain growth, toward a maturity which must come late, and may come -never." - - -_Statistics._ - -Here follow statistics, the details of which we omit, and give these as -the results, as seen in _three_ of the larger denominations, viz.: the -O. S. Presbyterian, the N. S. Presbyterian, and the Congregational. - -In this table is shown the _number of churches_, with a given number of -members to each church. - - -------------------+------+------+------+------+------+------------ - | Not | Not | | | | - | more | more | More | More | More | - | than | than | than | than | than | Total - Number of Members. | 50. | 100. | 100. | 200. | 300. | reporting. - -------------------+------+------+------+------+------+------------ - Presbyterian O.S. | 1239 | 1907 | 763 | 278 | 101 | 2670 - Presbyterian N.S. | 743 | 1180 | 432 | 163 | 70 | 1612 - Congregational | 696 | 1219 | 752 | 245 | 83 | 1971 - +------+------+------+------+------+------------ - Total of three | | | | | | - denominations | 2678 | 4306 | 1947 | 686 | 254 | 6253 - -------------------+------+------+------+------+------+------------ - - -"_Proportion of strong and weak Churches._ - -"More than _one fifth_, therefore, of all the churches connected with -these denominations may be counted as _very weak_, none of them having -more than twenty-five members, and the average falling considerably -below that number. Nearly _one fourth_ may be counted as _weak_, their -membership ranging between twenty-five and fifty; and these, taken -together with those that are weaker yet, constitute nearly forty-three -per cent. of the whole. More than two thirds of all the churches do not -contain over one hundred members. Those that exceed one hundred are -about thirty-one per cent., and those that exceed two hundred are not -quite eleven per cent. of the entire number. - - -"_Present Supply of Ministers inadequate._ - -"The whole number of ministers in these three denominations is 6150. The -number of pastors and stated supplies (errors excepted) is 4336, leaving -1814 to be classed as without charge, as professors, teachers, editors, -secretaries, etc. - -"The number of churches in the three denominations whose membership -exceeds fifty is some five hundred less than the number of pastors and -stated supplies. If, therefore, each of the five hundred men remaining -after the largest churches were supplied were to take two of the smaller -churches, more than sixteen hundred churches would still be left -destitute; and if allowance be made for those not reporting, this number -must be taken as exceeding two thousand. Probably none of these contain -more than thirty-five members. - - -"_Deficiency due to Divisions._ - -"Now we need a thousand-fold _increase_ of our effective force in the -great harvest-field of the world; but have we any reason to expect that -the Lord of the harvest will hear our cry for laborers, and raise them -up indefinitely, in order to meet wants unnecessarily, nay, wickedly -created by our divisions? Would a spendthrift son expect to prevail with -an indulgent father to administer to his necessities on the plea or the -confession that he had squandered his former bounty, and, moreover, was -intending to make a similar use of what he then solicited? The -responsibility rests upon Christians of no one name, and it would seem -that if the people of God every where could but have a full realization -of the heart-rending inadequacy of all means yet employed for the -conversion of the world, or of the utter hopelessness of ever meeting -the vast want under such a waste of power, the work of economical -adjustment would at once and earnestly commence, and also a new -consecration--that the evangelization of the world may be carried -forward upon a scale commensurate with the providential openings for -missionary effort. - -"That would be, indeed, a glorious revolution which should bring the -true disciples of Christ every where to this position--to a consecration -that should keep nothing back from the Lord, to a heaven-appointed -economy in the adjustment of forces, a _condensation_ of churches in the -same neighborhood, till the combined body could support a pastor, -furnish him with all needed facilities for the prosecution of his work, -and, at the same time, open to him an _adequate_ field of labor. All -supernumerary ministers in a given locality would thus be set loose for -effort where men are perishing for lack of vision. Then Apollos would -not interfere with Paul when he planted, nor Paul with Apollos when he -watered, nor would both either plant or water at the same point or time, -provided one could do the work. - - -"_Divisions unnecessary._ - -"But it is possible that some, calling to mind the large number of weak -congregations at the East--where denominational rivalry is less active -than at the West--may claim that this feebleness is but a part of the -necessary imperfection of human arrangements; that we must always have -the poor with us, and that it is not the sectarianism of the West which -so reduces our churches. It were sufficient to suggest, in reply, that -the weak churches in the older states are found where the communities -are weak, in barren or uncultivated districts, or in regions depopulated -by emigration, while a large proportion of the feeble churches of the -West are in populous, vigorous, growing communities, where nothing but -irreligion or division could keep the congregations from being numerous, -and where nothing less than the combination of the two could keep them -so small as they are. Yonder are three debilitated churches struggling -for existence against each other. Is it necessary to ask whether, if -they were joined in one, and were with one heart and voice contending -for the kingdom of God, the Christian strength of that community would -not be greater? - - -"_Proportion of weak Churches at the West._ - -"But facts are at hand which show that the relative number of feeble -churches is much larger at the West than at the East. Of the churches in -Illinois and Iowa connected with three leading denominations, the -proportion that must be accounted very weak--having not more than -twenty-five communicants--is almost twice as great as in the same -denomination taken entire, and amounts to nearly _two fifths_ of the -whole number reporting. These, again, taken with those whose membership -ranges between twenty-five and fifty, make up nearly _seventy per cent._ -of the whole!" - - * * * * * - -The author would ask attention to a few questions in view of these -statistics. - -The above table was formed from _reporting_ churches. There are 934 -churches _not reporting_. Giving to these last the average proportion of -ministers and weak churches, and we find this result: - - Whole number of churches 7187 - Ministers acting as pastors and supplies 4336 - ---- - Churches without ministers 2851 - -That is to say, in three of our largest and most wealthy and intelligent -denominations, _nearly one third_ of their churches are without -ministers, and _nearly one half_ of them have not over fifty members, -and the majority of these members, no doubt, are women. Then the -relative number of ministers is _constantly decreasing_. - -In this state of things, to what is the Church and ministry coming? - -When young men of talents and energy see not only independence, but -wealth before them in other callings, where, in preparing, they will not -need to spend _nine years_ in dead languages and literature never to be -used; where they can have an abundant field of usefulness, and where -their minds can be _free_ from creeds and the supervision of -ecclesiastics and parishes, how long will any such seek the ministry? - -Will not the ministry thus soon become the resort, first, of poor, -ambitious young men, who find in its official standing the surest mode, -with moderate talents and means, to gain the _highest social position_; -and next, of _ambitious young men of talents_, who, among such inferior -competitors, are sure of the best pulpits and highest salaries? - -Again: How long will the _laity_ so freely pour out their earnings to -endow colleges and theological seminaries when such results as these are -seen? - - -NOTE D, page 336. - -In resigning all farther agency in practical educational efforts, the -writer hopes, after so many years of devotion to it, she may be allowed -to speak with entire frankness her views as to the present modes of -education. - -The last thirty years have witnessed great efforts all over the nation -to improve and increase common schools, and to multiply higher -educational institutions. Although much has been said and written in -regard to physical and moral training in schools, unfortunately very -little has been accomplished. - -It is the intellectual department of the brain that has absorbed -attention, as if this were the chief, or even the whole of man. Parents -stimulate, teachers stimulate, lecturers stimulate, superintendents -stimulate, school committees stimulate--all turning their full energies -on to only one function of the brain. - -In our colleges, this _intellectual_ stimulating is divided and -subdivided, one professor for one department, another for a second, and -another for a third, and so on, till from twelve to twenty are thus -employed. Meantime the training of the body, or the development of the -social, domestic, and moral powers, have not even one to minister the -needful care. - -Then, in preparatory boarding-schools for boys, taken from mother, -sisters, and home influences in the first blush of youth, all the school -stimulus is turned on to the brain to develop Latin, Greek, and -mathematics, while health of body and soul perish under abuse or -neglect. - -Then the boarding-school is taking the young girls through a kind of -college course at the most critical period of life, while their chief -nervous energies are exhausted in completing _a given course of study in -a given time_, and almost every law of health for body and mind are -violated. - -Then, in our primary schools, especially in cities, where pure air, -healthful exercise, and home employments are least at command, all the -energies of school committees and superintendents of schools are -directed to securing a given amount of intellectual labor. - -But what is the teaching of physiology on this matter? Through one of -its greatest writers, thus it speaks: - -"If young children are compelled to sit quietly while their minds are -urged to undue action, _we take from them the noblest part of their -strength, and consume it in the function of thinking_. Thus growth is -retarded, the limbs imperfectly developed, the digestion (and thus the -blood) becomes bad, scrofula perhaps appears, and then ensues a great -predominance of the nervous system. Any _unequal_ development of our -faculties is injurious. It is certain that _mental exertions_ weaken the -more they are unaccompanied by bodily movements. Those who, _between_ -mental occupations, take bodily exercise, can _do more_ than those who -neglect this exercise." - -The grand evils of our present modes of education are, not that too much -intellectual training is bestowed, but that physical, social, and -domestic training are neglected. The result is a _universal decay of -national vigor and health_. Other causes, such as the use of stoves and -unventilated houses, improper diet and dress, with excess in other modes -of stimulating, have had a large share in the evil, but there can be no -doubt that mistaken modes of education are the chief causes of the -acknowledged fact that our national health is perishing at a frightful -rate. - -There are facts that prove the Anglo-Saxon race, as developed in America -under the best circumstances, is the most perfect race on earth as it -respects size, strength, and beauty. The mountain regions of Kentucky -and Tennessee, where the climate allows all to live in pure air night -and day, with the simple food and habit of forest life, send out sons -that, appearing in foreign lands, are followed by admiring crowds as -specimen giants. General Washington's staff, though not picked men, were -most of them over six feet in height, with size and muscle to -correspond. The vigorous mothers and stalwart sons that achieved our -Revolution have given place to sickly mothers with a delicate and puny -offspring. - -The Greeks, though they educated the mind, took even more pains to train -the body, and thus they became the wisest, strongest, and most powerful -people on earth. We might do the same, and with far greater facilities; -but, should our present rate of deterioration proceed, two or more -generations would bring us out a race of deformed and unhealthy pigmies. -For facts to sustain such a prediction, the author begs leave to refer -to her _Letters to the People on Health and Happiness_. - -The great point now urged is that woman should be _trained_, not, as -some would urge, to enter the professions of men, but _for her own -proper business_, in educating mind in developing the body of infancy -and childhood, and in conducting the economy of an orderly, happy, and -well-regulated _home_. These arduous and complicated duties demand able -assistance, and here is the calling of the female educator; not to carry -off children from their parents and home, but rather to aid these -parents in education in _all_ departments. - -It is manifestly the Divine intention that parents should be the chief -educators of the race, and all plans consistent with this will succeed, -and all counter to it will fail. The boarding-school is not in -consonance with this Heaven-appointed plan, and the evils multiply -around it so fast that a nation of so much common sense as ours must -soon forsake it for the true method. - -Again: in the grand object of educating humanity for an _eternal_ -existence, the questions as to how ordination or baptism shall be -administered, or whether it shall be church elders or church committees -that rule, are to be made secondary, and the followers of Christ are to -unite for the education of the race, not as _sects_, but as -_Christians_. - -These views present the principles on which is organized the _American -Woman's Educational Association_. - -Its main features are, that it unites all sects in education; that it -spends its funds, not for great buildings to deprive the young of -parents and homes, but to provide well-trained educators to assist -parents _in_ their homes; and, finally, its leading aim is to prepare -woman for her _distinctive duties_ as educator, nurse, and fountain of -home sympathies for the race. - -In attempting this, the methods the other sex have employed to honor and -sustain _their_ professions have been claimed, viz.: institutions -governed by _a faculty_ instead of an individual, and teachers supported -by _endowments_ for this express object. - -The following extract from the _fourth_ Annual Report of this -Association gives some of the results. - -"We are now prepared to indicate what has been accomplished. We have, -then, in the first place, evolved and set forth a fundamental _idea_. -This is no small part of the success of any great movement. Whatever -were the difficulties of first learning to print, the triumph of -Gutenberg was nearly achieved when he first mastered the _idea_ of the -type. It was a secondary affair to work it out and set the world -vibrating to its power. We have got the _idea_, and done something -toward its execution. - -"We have secured the existence of two institutions on our plan, one at -Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and the other at Dubuque, Iowa, whose united -catalogues will show some five hundred pupils the past year. Both are in -very successful operation, with efficient boards of teachers, silently -doing the work for which they have been established. - -"We have united all the Protestant citizens in the noble work of -founding and patronizing these institutions, which they cherish as among -their most valued public establishments. We have shown that the _faculty -principle_ is as good for female institutions as for those of the other -sex, and that results may be expected from it for woman corresponding in -utility and dignity with those it has secured to man. - -"We have shown that, by the _offer_ of the small endowment of twenty -thousand dollars, we can secure the establishment of one of these -invaluable institutions, and make it a permanent source of measureless -good--a most economical and wise expenditure of educational -benefactions. - -"We have, in short, carried out our plan successfully just as far as it -can be done _before_ the endowments are actually furnished. - -"We have made a beginning toward raising the first endowment, and are -able to report on hand and pledged nearly ten thousand dollars. - -"Our movement has the confidence and full endorsement of many leading -clergymen, educators, and editors of our country. Our institutions have -the hearty co-operation of the religious bodies where they are located. - -"At our last annual meeting, an urgent request was made to the -Association to aid in the establishment of a third institution at -Kalamazoo, Michigan. Without any pledge of immediate action, it was -agreed that, if the citizens should comply with our conditions, we would -aid them as soon as our means would allow. Those conditions have not yet -been met, and we have not, therefore, been called to do any thing at -that place. - -"It has seemed desirable, moreover, that the endowment of the two -institutions already established should be completed before attempting -to found others." - -The questions most frequently proposed to the conductors of this -enterprise, and the answers to them, will now be introduced. - -How can the business of domestic economy be taught as a part of school -training? - -Not in great boarding-schools, where it never was or can be done. The -"Mount Holyoke" plan, now so popular, is widely supposed to embrace this -in its design. But the _teaching_ of this science is not the aim of -their domestic department. It is a measure for _reducing expenses_ by -saving hired labor, while certain social advantages are supposed to be -combined with it. But no pupil is to be _taught_ any thing in this -department. Meantime, introducing cooking, washing, ironing, and -house-cleaning as a regular part of school duty, makes a system of such -detail and complication, demanding so many rules and such strict -obedience as adds enormously to the already excessive pressure that is -put on the female brain. This is probably an insuperable difficulty -attendant on this system, that will forever forbid its introduction -wherever the _healthful_ development of woman has its proper regard. - -How, then, is the object aimed at to be accomplished? - -In reply we say, that, with institutions established for the express -purpose of training women to be healthy themselves, and to perform -properly all their duties as educator, nurse, and regulator of the -domestic state; with teachers supported by endowments for this express -object; with a board of managers embracing some of the most influential -ladies in the land, who are or have been both practical teachers and -housekeepers; with committees of influential ladies in each place where -such institutions are located to co-operate, the thing attempted can not -fail to be done, and in the best manner. Whatever ought to be done, can -be; and whatever can be done, will be, when energetic American women -fairly undertake it. - -But will endowments for such institutions be furnished? - -In reply, we point to the multitudes of needless colleges for the other -sex all over the land, for which the people are pouring forth such -abundant endowments, while _women_ are even more liberal, according to -their relative means, than men. - -Since this effort commenced, one lady has endowed a professorship in -Brunswick College, Maine. Another lady has added $20,000 to the nearly -_one million_ endowments of Cambridge. These two are the first cases of -endowments for the _physical_, _social_, and _moral_ departments of -education. Woman, then, has first done for man what is now sought for -her sex. - -In this same short period, sufficient for the endowment of a theological -professorship in Connecticut has been furnished by female benefactors. -In New Jersey a lady has given some $30,000 for a college. In New York -City another lady has endowed a theological professorship. In Albany, -New York, a lady has given $50,000 for a scientific institution for man. -In Massachusetts a lady has given more than enough to endow a -professorship for a college in Wisconsin. Many more cases can be given -of large benefactions, amounting in all to hundreds of thousands, given -by woman within a few years for the richly-provided professional -institutions of man, while as yet not one complete endowment for her sex -has been raised. - -Why is this? Because it is so difficult to change long-established -customs and habits of thought. The idea that every thing must be done -for man's profession, and nothing for woman's, has so long been -dominant, that even our own sex have fallen into that belief and -practice. - -But the American people are eminent for practical wisdom and common -sense. The time is certainly coming when the _true view_ is to possess -the public mind, and then the right practice will follow. The question -is simply one as to time, and as to _who_ are to be the first to provide -means for this great movement to promote the right physical, domestic, -and moral training of our race, whose names shall shine as benefactors -of our sex, as Harvard and Yale have shone for the other. - -But it is asked, Why go to the West to establish such institutions? - -Because the evils of sectarian strife affect educational interest most -severely there; because educational institutions are most needed there; -and because the moral soil, like the natural, bears fruit so quickly and -so abundantly. - -But why not endow large boarding institutions already established? - -Because it is contrary to the grand design of Providence to take -children away from parents to educate them; because it is more -economical to provide superior teachers and school-houses in cities and -large towns, than to turn funds into brick and mortar to congregate -great communities of the young away from parents, home, and all domestic -pursuits; and because those who need to go to boarding-schools can find -homes in private families in large towns. - -But why not have our public schools on this model? - -Because it can not be done until the public, by fair experiments, have -tested the value of such institutions. So long, too, as foreign lands -are emptying all classes into our country, and their children enter all -public schools, it will be impossible to bring the children of the -wealthy classes into them. - -In conclusion, the author asks every true woman who reads this to help -in this effort for the _women and the children_ of our country. If she -has money to give, it can be sent to our agent, Rev. William L. Parsons, -No. 11 Cliff Street, New York. - -If she has _time_ to devote to the work, let her send $1 25 by mail to -Harper & Brothers, New York, and she will receive, without farther -expense, the author's two works, one on Domestic Economy, and the other -on Physiology and Physical Training, designed as text-books for schools. -She can then _use her influence_ to introduce them, while the author's -profits, as they ever have been, will be devoted to this object. - -The following is the Constitution of the association and the names of -the ladies and gentlemen who superintend the enterprise. Most of them -have been practical teachers, most are practical housekeepers, while -they represent seven different religious denominations: - - -CONSTITUTION OF THE AMERICAN WOMAN'S EDUCATIONAL ASSOCIATION. - -ART. 1. The name of this Society is the AMERICAN WOMAN'S EDUCATIONAL -ASSOCIATION. - -ART. 2. The object of this Association is to aid in securing to American -Women a liberal education, honorable position, and remunerative -employment _in their appropriate profession_; the distinctive profession -of woman being considered as embracing the training of the human mind, -the care of the human body in infancy and in sickness, and the -conservation of the family state. - -ART. 3. The leading measure to be pursued by this Association is the -establishment of permanent endowed institutions for women, embracing the -leading features of college and professional institutions for the other -sex, _i. e._, they shall be conducted by a _Faculty_ of _Teachers_, each -being the head of a given department, and no one having control over the -others. An office corresponding to that of the President of a college -shall be optional with those who control each institution. - -ART. 4. The mode of establishing such institutions shall be as follows: -An agent of this Association shall make this offer to some city or large -town in a section where teachers and schools are most needed. - -First: That the citizens shall organize a Board of Trustees, in which -the various religious denominations of the place shall be fairly -represented; that these Trustees shall provide temporary accommodations, -and pupils enough to support four Teachers; that a Primary and a High -School Department be organized, and that the college plan of a Faculty -of Teachers be adopted. - -On these conditions, the Association shall furnish the Institution with -a library and apparatus to the value of one thousand dollars. The first -Board of Teachers shall be appointed by the Association, with the advice -and consent of the Trustees, and thereafter the Faculty shall have the -nominating and the Trustees the appointing power. - -Second: As soon as the Teachers have secured public confidence, and -proved that they can work harmoniously together, the citizens shall -erect a building at an expense of not less than ten thousand dollars, -and engage to give gratuitous tuition to twenty Normal Pupils. In -return, the Association shall provide an endowment of twenty thousand -dollars, the interest of which shall furnish the salaries of the three -superior teachers, each having charge of one of the three departments -set forth above as constituting the profession of woman. They shall also -aid in the literary instruction. These three teachers, with the -beneficiary Normal Pupils, and any others who may wish and are qualified -to enter, shall constitute the Normal Department. The Normal Pupils -shall act as Assistants in the Primary and High School Departments, -under the direction of the Principal Teachers. - -ART. 5. With each institution shall be connected an organization of -ladies resident in the place of location, who, with the Teachers of the -Normal Department, shall carry out a system for raising up schools in -destitute places, and for securing employ and suitable compensation for -all teachers trained in the institution. When the home supply is -inadequate, the Teachers shall be sought from the Board of National -Popular Education, and other similar associations. All teachers thus -located shall be under the special care of this local Association, and -the boarding establishment of the Normal Department shall serve as a -temporary home to them in all emergencies demanding it. - -ART. 6. Funds contributed for endowments shall be held in trust for this -Association by gentlemen Trustees incorporated for the purpose. - -ART. 7. The whole control of the business and funds shall be in a Board -of Managers, who shall appoint their own officers, agents, and executive -committee. This Board shall have power to perpetuate and increase -itself, but the number from any one religious denomination shall never -exceed one fifth of the whole. Not less than seven different -denominations shall be represented in the Board, and a majority shall be -ladies who are or have been practical teachers. Any number of members -present, of the Board or of the Executive Committee, at any meeting of -either, due notice having been given of such meeting, shall constitute a -quorum. The Board shall meet annually at such time and place as it shall -appoint, and the presiding officer shall be appointed at each meeting. A -meeting may also be called at any time, at the request of any three -members of the Board. - -ART. 8. Any person may become an honorary _life member_ of this -Association by the payment of twenty-five dollars, and an _honorary -patron_ of the enterprise by the payment of fifty dollars or upward. - - -BOARD OF MANAGERS OF THE AMERICAN WOMAN'S EDUCATIONAL ASSOCIATION. - - Mrs. Z. P. G. Banister, _Newburyport, Mass._ - Mrs. L. H. Sigourney, _Hartford, Conn._ - Mrs. S. J. Hale, _Philadelphia_. - Miss P. Fobes, _Monticello, Ill._ - Mrs. Gen. J. Gould, _Rochester, N. Y._ - Mrs. E. Ricord, _Newark, N. J._ - Mrs. H. B. Stowe, _Andover, Mass._ - Mrs. Prof. H. C. Conant, _Rochester, N. Y._ - Miss C. E. Beecher, _Boston, Mass._ - Miss Mary Mortimer, _Milwaukee, Wis._ - Miss C. M. Sedgwick, _New York_. - Mrs. Prof. D. C. Van Norman, " - Mrs. Marcus Spring, " - Mrs. C. M. Kirkland, " - Mrs. Prof. H. Webster, " - Mrs. A. H. Gibbons, " - Mrs. C. W. Milbank, " - Mrs. Rev. Dr. Cheever, " - Mrs. Henry Dwight, Jr., " - Mrs. James Harper, " - Mrs. D. Codwise, " - Mrs. Charles Abernethy, " - Mrs. Prof. Henry B. Smith, " - Mrs. Joseph F. Stone, " - Miss Caroline L. Griffin, " - Mrs. Rev. Abel Stevens, " - Mrs. Rev. W. L. Parsons, " - -The following gentlemen are the Officers under the Act of Incorporation -granted to the Association by the Legislature of New York in 1855. - - BENJ. W. BONNEY, President. - WM. L. PARSONS, Cor. Secretary. - HENRY A. HURLBUT, Treasurer. - - -BOARD OF MANAGERS. - - CYRUS W. FIELD, - JOSIAH W. BAKER, - BENJ. W. BONNEY, - HENRY A. HURLBUT, - WM. L. PARSONS. - - -FINANCE COMMITTEE. - - CYRUS W. FIELD, - JOSIAH W. BAKER, - BENJ. W. BONNEY. - - -FORM OF BEQUEST. - -I give and bequeath to the "American Woman's Educational Association," -incorporated by or under an Act of the Legislature of the State of New -York, the sum of [space] Dollars, which I direct to be paid by my -executors to the Treasurer of said Association for the time being. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Common Sense Applied to Religion, by -Catharine E. Beecher - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMMON SENSE APPLIED TO RELIGION *** - -***** This file should be named 55531-8.txt or 55531-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/5/3/55531/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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