Chapter II: Part 2

Language is the circulating medium of our thoughts; and the meaning of words much resembles the value of money. But great diversity of opinion prevails. In the minds of some philosophers, money means only metallic currency, which may be assayed, and its real value ascertained; and this seems to relate to etymology. Others less solid in their views, and gifted with a finer fabric of fancy, are disposed to consider the abstractions of paper to be equivalent to the concrete of bullion, and have accordingly constituted it the jus and norma by authority. To insist on the meaning of a word, because its interpretation has been previously assumed, carries no conviction of its truth. The "jus et norma loquendi," must ever prevail as the currency between human beings; but this acknowledgment should not, in the course of circulation, diminish, the undoubted right we possess, to detect and refuse such as are base or counterfeit.

It will not be disputed, that some words bear a much higher importance than others. The names of familiar objects are of little consequence, because we can examine them by our senses, and thereby obtain just perceptions of their character and properties: but general or abstract terms, which are not the objects of sense, but the abbreviations of subjects of reflection, are of the highest interest to our advancement in knowledge and moral conduct. To exemplify the views that have been taken on this subject, three words have been selected:--_to feel_, _to ransack_, and the adjective, _naked_. Of the first, Dr. Johnson, the best authority we now possess, has given six different senses or acceptations as a verb active, and four, as a verb neuter, and has cited the different authorities. He says it is derived from the Anglo-Saxon, _felan_, without explaining what _felan_ means; it however means to feel: but the adduction of a word in another language, of similar sound and identical signification, does not impart meaning. Yet when we find that in the Anglo-Saxon _fell_ means _skin_, which is the seat of feeling, we directly understand the word and all its dependencies; as _fell_ of hair, _felt_ hat, _fell_-monger, _film_, which is a thin fine skin or pellicle. Thus we become enabled to understand and reconcile variety and extension of meaning, from the preservation of integrity of figure.

The verb _to ransack_, is another example. Of this word Dr. Johnson has given three senses. According to him, it is derived from _ran_, Anglo-Saxon, and _saka_, Swedish, to search or seize; but we are not informed what _ran_ in Anglo-Saxon signifies, and it so happens that there is no such Swedish word as _saka_, to search. The word _ransack_, for which the Anglo-Saxons had _ransaka_, is derived to us from the Gothic, in which _razn_ (pronounced _ran_) signifies a house, and _sokjan_ to search; so that, _to ransack_, implies to search the house.

To the adjective _naked_ Dr. Johnson has given four different meanings. Its etymology, he says, is from the Anglo-Saxon, _nacod_, which in that language was of similar signification: but this imparts no meaning. It is a compound word: _na_, in Anglo-Saxon, signifies _new_, and _cenned_, _born_, so that the condition of the _new-born_ child affords an appropriate interpretation of the term _naked_.

To ordinary minds, that which is said to be authority is decisive[10]; a particular author of celebrity is cited, and thus the business concludes. The reasons, which induced him to employ the word in such particular sense, it is in most cases fruitless to enquire; as during their lives, authors have seldom been appreciated: so that the silence of death seems indispensable to procure the consent of authority.

As language is the instrument of thought, the vehicle of intelligible communication among human beings, it is impossible to attach too high importance to its precise signification: the difficulties of effecting this concordance have been pointed out, but the remedy has not yet been applied. After all the investigation that has been given to this interesting subject, one leading fact seems indisputable, that all the terms which designate the faculties and operations of our minds, are of physical origin, as well as those which characterise the thinking or immaterial principle itself: and for this, there is sufficient reason; as all language, in order to be adapted for our use, in this state of existence, can only be the representative of the objects of our perceptions and reflections,--an instrument calculated for the meridian of this transitory life: for, when the holy light of happiness to come was revealed to the human race, it was found expedient, for their comprehension, to transmit its rays through a material prism.[11]

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Mr. Locke, as he advances in his essay, expresses considerable distrust of the existence of these powers and faculties of the mind. "Yet I suspect, I say, that this way of speaking of faculties has misled many into a confused notion of so many distinct agents in us, which had their several provinces and authorities, and did command, obey, and perform several actions, as so many distinct beings; which has been no small occasion of wrangling, obscurity, and uncertainty in questions relating to them."--Vol. i. p. 192. 10th edition.

[9] To afford a single illustration of this fact, let the verb to _bewray_ be selected, which, although a word of very different meaning, has been confounded with to _betray_. The meaning of the former is to discover, expose, and is derived from a Saxon verb bearing that sense; the latter, Dr. Johnson has derived from the French _trahir_, and has cited some instances, as authorities for its perverted sense. It is but justice to observe, that these words preserve their distinct and separate sense in all the instances where they have been employed, both in Shakspeare and the Bible. It may therefore be inferred, to have been a recent corruption.

[10] Of this, Mr. Locke appears to have been fully sensible:--"When men are established in any kind of dignity, 'tis thought a breach of modesty for others to derogate any way from it, and question the authority of men who are in possession of it. This is apt to be censured, as carrying with it too much of pride, when a man does not readily yield to the determination of approved authors, which is wont to be received with respect and submission by others; and 'tis looked upon as insolence for a man to set up, and adhere to his own opinion, against the current stream of antiquity, or to put in the balance against that of some learned doctor, or otherwise approved writer. Whoever backs his tenets with such authorities, thinks he ought thereby to carry the cause; and is ready to stile it impudence in any one who shall stand out against them."--Locke's Works, vol. ii. p. 306.

[11] This material prism is to be understood to apply to language; and in this view Newton himself surveyed the question. "For all language as applied to God, is taken from the affairs of men, by some resemblance, not indeed a perfect one, but yet existing to a certain degree."--Newton's Works, edit. Horsley, vol. iv. p. 430.

ON WILL OR VOLITION.

In the consideration of the nature and offices of the human mind, there is no subject of higher importance than the will, or volition. Every person must have observed, that he is capable of performing certain motions, which he is able to commence, to continue, and to arrest; and the same faculty is possessed by many animals. A slight degree of information will also instruct him, that there are certain motions of his animal frame, over which he has no immediate control. The motions which he is able to direct and regulate, have been termed voluntary; and those over which he possesses no influence or command, have been denominated involuntary motions. The most perfect instances of the latter are the pulsations of the heart, and the movements of the intestines, usually called peristaltic. The curiosity which is natural to man as an intelligent being, would of course prompt him to enquire into the cause of these phenomena, although the result of his investigations might be inadequate to the toil of his research: for, he would be as much puzzled to account for the influence by which certain muscles are moved at will, as he would at others which possess a determinate motion, and are not subject to this direction. While man continues in a healthy state, he is enabled to move at pleasure those muscles or instruments of motion which are subject to his will; and the involuntary muscles continue duly to perform their appropriate office; but in certain morbid states it sometimes occurs, that the exertion of the will to move a leg or arm is ineffectually directed, and however much we desire, wish, or will such motion, these limbs are disobedient.[12] This condition of the members has been termed paralytic: the will to move remains perfect; but the organs to be acted on are insensible to that influence which, in a sound state, excited them to motion. As in the healthy state the will has the power to produce motion, so it is also competent to prevent it; therefore to move or to abstain from motion, are equally the dictates of the will. But it not unfrequently happens, when we intend to thread a needle, to write our name, or to perform some surgical operation, that the will exerts all its influence to keep the hand steady for the due performance of these necessary acts; yet, notwithstanding these implicit commands, the hand continues to move in all directions, but those which could accomplish the object. So, that these muscles, ordinarily voluntary, become, in a certain degree, converted into involuntary muscles. A higher degree of this state prevails in the affection called St. Vitus' Dance, and likewise in some convulsive symptoms attendant on locked jaw, where the body is drawn with incredible violence. It may be noticed, that these states are attended with consciousness.

Concerning the nature of this influence, termed the _will_, a great variety of discordant opinions prevail. To enumerate or refute these would be unprofitable labour, more especially as the majority are the mere assumptions of their particular authors. They all, however, seem to be agreed that the will is an inherent faculty, or component part of the mind; and some are induced to consider it as holding the highest office in the department of intellect. The only mode of investigating this subject satisfactorily, according to my own views, is to trace the progress of volition from its feeble commencement, to the full exercise of its important function,--from the dawn to the meridian.

As a general observation, it may be remarked that the same influence of the will, which directs the movements of the body, is likewise exerted over the faculties of the mind; although generally in an inferior degree, both from the greater difficulty and less importance of the latter, for the ordinary purposes of life. When we observe the newly-born infant,--that helpless mass of animation,--we perceive no indications to induce us to conclude, that it possesses a voluntary power of directing its movements.[13] It is furnished with the organs of motion, but is unable to exert that influence which manifests direction; yet its involuntary motions continue perfect, and these, as will be subsequently explained, may be considered in their nature and effects as very similar to that, which, in animals, is termed instinct. In the progress of this enquiry, it will be seen that some degree of mental advancement must have been made, before the infant can _direct_ any of the motions of its body; because direction implies knowledge to an extent sufficient for the purposes of command, and also a consciousness of the effort. In the infant, all the organs of sense by degrees become awaked by their appropriate stimuli or objects, and perception is the result. Although we have no memory of our earliest perceptions, which are solely produced by the excitation of external objects, without any direction of the will; yet from the mental indications of the infant, these perceptions would seem to be confused and indistinct. It is some time before the eye appears to notice, and longer before the hand can grasp and manipulate the substances within its reach: in this state, volition would be superfluous if it were possessed. By slow gradations, we find the child capable of directing its eye, of listening to sounds, and of examining by the touch; and these imply the efforts of the will, which appear to be subsequent to perception. As we advance in knowledge, our perceptions, which are the sources of intelligence, are principally acquired by the agency of volition, which directs the organ to the object, but we still continue to be acted on involuntarily by forcible impressions, or striking phenomena.

Previously to the acquirement of language, perception, memory, and volition are in their simplest state, such as we observe in animals, and as in them, we are only able to estimate the amount of their mental possessions, from the intellectual phenomena they display. In the infant, the separate and combined examination of objects by the eye and touch are the circumstances most deserving of notice.

It may here be proper to explain why these earliest of our perceptions are never remembered in after-life. The long period of human infancy, is a powerful argument for the superiority of our species: the mind of man is built up by his own exertions, and his progress is in the ratio of his experience to his capacity: his mission is more important, and consequently requires a longer period to fulfil: he has few instincts; and the sum of his knowledge is the elaboration of his extended endowments. To have remembered the confused dawnings of his perceptions, the imperfect and obscure transmissions of his unpractised organs would have been superfluous, and the sources of error. In this early state, there is no medium by which his perceptions can be artificially connected; nor do they admit of communication or record. When language is acquired, our perceptions become "doubly armed," and impress the memory with additional effect: the employment of the term as the representative of the object, recalls the original perception, and thus invests the mental phantasm with "a local habitation and a name." Thus our earliest recollections are never anterior to a certain progress in the art of speech.

As we possess the instruments of motion in our muscles, they would have been useless without the performance of their function, and our bodies would have been stationary. It is also equally evident that this office must be performed by ourselves, or fulfilled by others. It has been already pointed out that there are certain motions, essential to the preservation of our animal system, termed _involuntary_, which do not originate from ourselves, but are the directions of a superior power, and are effected independently of our experience and control: the other motions, that have been termed voluntary, are the result of acquirement or practice, and have been gradually formed by our exertions. The reader will now be prepared to understand the wisdom of this arrangement, which, in a future chapter, will be more copiously treated; and to feel that the superiority of man, as an intellectual being, and a responsible agent, consists in the formation of his own mind, and in the direction of his thoughts and actions.

That we should exert our utmost endeavours to become acquainted with the nature of this influence, which we term the will, is most natural; but hitherto our researches have been wholly unavailing; and it should be recollected that the appearances of life cannot be accounted for by that which is inanimate, nor can the phenomena of intelligence be solved by material analogies. As we are possessed of the implements of motion, it is evident that they were constructed to accomplish their destined purpose; but of the intimate nature of the stimulus which goads them to action, we have no conception: it seems, however, certain that there exists a mutual consent,--a reciprocal subaudition,--a compact, the result of exercise and experience,--between the implements of motion and the will or influence which excites them.

As far as we are able to discover, by the most attentive and deliberate examination of our own minds, we do not appear conscious of any intermediate perception, between the motive and the performance of the action, or the execution of the will. If it were allowable to indulge in analogical reasoning, which usually diverts us from the consideration of the subject, we might endeavour to illustrate this process by the firing of a pistol. When we have taken due aim, we have only to draw the trigger, which produces the explosion: in doing this, however, we perceive the emission of light from the combustion of the powder; but to this there is nothing analogous in the operation of the will:--the dictate of the will, and the motion excited, when watched with the utmost attention, appear instantaneous, and become synchronous by habit. Considering the celerity of our voluntary movements, there appears a good reason why no perceptible intervention should exist, to divert the mind from the immediate performance of the will. The correspondence of the motion to the intimation of the will, is the business of education and the performance of habit.

The exertion of the will on the bodily organs having been generally described, it now remains to demonstrate its influence on the mind; and so far as we are enabled to discover, it appears to be performed by the same process. The direction of the several organs of sense to the examination of objects, is an act of the will, and has been named Attention; which, by some writers, has been deemed a peculiar and constituent faculty of the mind; but in the present view it is considered only as the practical result of the operation of volition on the organs of sense, on memory, and on reflection. The soundest mind (as far as it has been hitherto considered) may be attributed to him who possesses the most enduring control over the organs of sense, in order to examine objects accurately, and thereby to acquire a full and complete perception. That memory is the best, which can voluntarily and immediately produce that which has been committed to its custody; and that reflection is the most perfect, which is exclusively occupied with the subject of consideration. There seems also to be a considerable similarity between the morbid states of the instruments of voluntary motion, and certain affections of the mental powers: thus, paralysis has its counterpart in the defects of recollection, where the utmost endeavour to remember is ineffectually exerted; tremor may be compared with incapability of fixing the attention, and this involuntary state of muscles ordinarily subjected to the will, also finds a parallel, where the mind loses its influence on the train of thought, and becomes subject to spontaneous intrusions; as may be exemplified in reverie, dreaming, and some species of madness.

As attention is considered an exertion of the will on the organs of sense and faculties of the mind, it may be allowable to remark on the nature and meaning of the term. It was evidently imposed under a prevailing hypothesis, that the mind possessed a power of stretching or extending itself to the objects of its perception, or to the subjects of reflection; it is therefore a figurative term. Indeed something of this nature actually takes place in the organ:--in minute examinations by the eye, we actually strain and stretch its muscles, and feel the fatigue which results from over-exertion:--when we listen, the neck is stretched forward, and such position enables us to collect those vibrations of sound, that would be otherwise inaudible. We are not unaccustomed to describe the higher and more felicitous productions of intellect, as a vigorous grasp of the mental powers, or as a noble stretch of thought: but to infer that the mind itself was capable of being extended, would be to invest it directly with the properties of substance, and at once plunge us into the grossest materialism. The perfection of this voluntary direction, or, as it has been termed, faculty of attention, consists in intensity and duration. Of the former there can be no admeasurement, excepting by its effect, which is recollection: its duration can be well ascertained. The faculty of attention in the human mind may be exerted in two ways; first, by the organs of sense to the objects of perception; and, secondly, by the mind to the subjects of its recollection; and this latter exercise of attention, as will be hereafter explained, seems to be in a very great degree peculiar to man, and to be nearly wanting in animals.

According to the nature and constitution of the human mind, the effective duration of the attention seems to be very limited: if the eye be steadily directed to any particular object, after a few seconds, it will be found to wander; and if the mind be exerted on the subjects of its recollection, there is very soon perceived an interruption, from the intrusion of irrelevant thoughts. The effective duration of the attention will much depend on the superior capacity, nature, or constitution of the intellect itself; but still more on the manner in which these habits of attention are exercised; for, by proper cultivation, its duration may be considerably protracted. As a proof of the limited endurance of the faculty of attention in ordinary minds, allow the following experiment to be made.

Let two ordinary persons, A. and B., take a map of a district with which they are unacquainted, and let each be allowed half an hour to study the map. Desire A. to fix his attention undeviatingly to the map for this time; and at its expiration, the map being withdrawn, request him to put on paper the relative situations and names of the different places; and for the performance of his task, allow him another half hour. As the experiment has been repeatedly made, it may be confidently predicted, that A. would exhibit a very incorrect copy of the original map. Let B. take the same map to study for the same time; but instead of keeping his eyes undeviatingly fixed to the object, desire him to view it only for a few seconds; and then, shutting his eyes, let him endeavour to bring the picture of the map before his mind: his first efforts will convey a very confused notion of the actual and relative positions; but he will become sensible of his defects, and reinspect the map for their correction. If this successive ocular examination and review by the mind, be continued during the half hour, or even for a less time, B. will be competent to make a drawing of the map with superior accuracy to A., who endeavoured to fix his attention for the whole of the time allotted. In conducting this experiment some very curious phenomena may be observed. If A. had directed his eyes to the object intensely and undeviatingly, especially in a strong light, and had then covered or shut his eyes, in order to recollect the relative situations in the map, the straining of the organ to the object would defeat his endeavours; and instead of being able to bring the picture before his mind, he would be annoyed and interrupted by the intrusion of ocular spectra, undergoing the succession of changes described by Dr. Darwin.[14] Thus there are limits to the duration of our effective attention: if the organ of vision be too long directed to the object of perception, ocular spectra arise, fatigue and confusion ensue in the other senses; and if the subjects of recollection be too long and intensely contemplated, delirium will supervene.

In page 52, after enumerating the wonderful productions of the hand, an objection was foreseen, which may be conveniently examined in the present chapter. That all the performances of the human hand, and of the other members of the body, which are not the result of involuntary movements, must have been the consequence of the direction of the will, is indisputable: it is, in fact, the common relation of cause and effect: but the creation of this distinction, would assign separate offices to the mind and to the organ;--or to the power directing, and to the instrument by which the command is executed. Sufficient has been already adduced, to render it obvious, that mind or organ _alone_ would be inadequate for the purposes of intelligence. Perception, without its record or memory, would be a useless endowment; muscles or organs of motion, without a power to direct their actions, could have answered no purpose: to be effective, volition must have an object on which its influence can be exerted. In the case of a paralytic arm or leg, the exercise of the will is a fruitless endeavour; and the command to render fixed a tremulous hand is equally unavailing. The power or capacity of moving the muscles,--of directing the organs of sense to the examination of objects,--of recollecting,--and of regulating our thoughts or reflections, constitutes the will; but this acquirement is of very gradual formation, and the result of mutual and progressive exercise, both of mind and organ. Ordinary persons have no information of the structure by which they perform their motions; and it may be also doubted if an able anatomist would be competent to describe the action of the different muscles, in complicated movements. The most dexterous artificer, is wholly ignorant of the intimate construction of the organs by which he performs his wonderful elaborations,--he has acquired the happy facility by repeated exercise. There is a tacit and practical convention between his mind and the powers which produce the performance; tacit, as he is unable to describe them, and practical, as, if naturally left-handed, he is unable by any mental directions or influence of volition, to exhibit the same performance with the right. The apparent facility and astonishing rapidity with which, by practice, we perform many of our voluntary motions, has induced an opinion, that such motions might be considered as automatical, which implies that they were performed by the organ independently of the will; but this would be to maintain, that the most difficult and felicitous of our voluntary motions were themselves involuntary. This supposition is so absurd that it refutes itself; its admission would be a libel on the perfection of human attainment, and tend to subvert the best portion of our existing morality.

That voluntary muscles may be converted into involuntary, has been already observed; but this conversion is to be considered a morbid state, and must be regarded as a degradation of our nature, instead of its perfection. Excess in the use of fermented liquors, will generally produce it; and the habitual practice of intemperance will destroy the influence of volition over the intellectual powers; so that the control over the succession of our thoughts can be no longer exerted, and when we give them utterance they are without connection, and we talk at random.

It is not to be expected, in a work which professes to be merely contributions to the Natural History and Physiology of Intelligent Beings, that a particular discussion of moral subjects should be instituted; and such is the question concerning the freedom of the human will: the reader is therefore referred to those writers who have fully, and with considerable acuteness, discussed this intricate and important topic. The nature of this attribute is however so interwoven with the philosophy of mind, so connected with the view which has been taken of its history and constitution, that it is impossible wholly to abstain from the consideration of its influence on the excellence and demerit of human actions. It has been endeavoured, throughout this chapter, to establish, that the power which goads or stimulates the muscles to action, and the mind to exertion, is not inherent, but acquired by practice; and this is exemplified by the state of the new-born infant, which, at that period, manifests no more of volition, than of perception, reflection, or reason. It has also been conjectured, that the possession of this influence must be subsequent to perception, for reasons which have been assigned. With its intimate nature we are unacquainted; but we see, as far as muscular motion is concerned, that the same effect is produced by the stimulus of galvanism after the head is removed, and when, according to our existing philosophy, consciousness is destroyed, and the power of willing is abolished. It is by no means intended to suppose that the stimulus of the will has any affinity with the galvanic fluid, because we are unable to prove it; although such opinion has been entertained. According to my own interpretation, Will is to be considered as the mere spur, the simple stimulus to action: it possesses no intelligence to direct; but in the healthy state, excites motion in consequence of being itself directed to such excitement. To invest Will with intelligence sufficient for its purposes, would render reason, the highest of our attainments, superfluous. Those who have most strenuously contended for the freedom of the will, have insisted that it possesses the liberty of choosing or preferring: allow this, and then enquire what must be the nature of that choice or preference, which is selected by an arbitrary decision, without the previous estimate or calculation of reason. Man, beyond all other beings, is endowed with superior means of accumulating knowledge, and of preserving experience; by these, therefore, his actions should be directed. If, independently of these, his will possessed a power of directing his actions, it would be equivalent to the instinct of animals: he would, like them, be stationary, and his conduct liable to no responsibility. The long period of infancy in man has been frequently adverted to; and it is a considerable time before he acquires sufficient experience to direct his conduct; and during which, many of the species of animals have completed several generations. For this reason, the wisest legislators, of all ages, have exempted children under a certain age, from the punishment of death for their actions; and although many of them have entertained erroneous notions concerning the nature of the will, yet they tacitly admit, in the instances of infants, idiots, and madmen,--that is, where the understanding is not sufficiently formed by experience, or where it is perverted by disease, that the acts of the will ought not to be visited by the severity of the law. This is perhaps the best practical illustration, that the will to act, is governed and directed by reason. Had the mind of man, like animals, been furnished with instinct, which, in them, implies a wise, preconcerted, and unvarying performance of important functions, for their individual preservation, and for the continuance of their race,--as may be exemplified in the construction of the habitations of the bee and beaver, together with their wonderful economy,--the fabrication of the spider's web, and many others,--he would, like them, have been stationary, having received from Infinite Bounty and Wisdom sufficient for his destination: his will would have been directed by unerring motives; and thus his conduct would have been absolved from all responsibility. But man is gifted with few instincts, which appear to decline as his reason advances: his intellect is more capacious, and of a finer staple; he possesses additional organs for the accumulation of knowledge; and, by the peculiarity of his construction, is enabled to preserve his acquirements, to avail himself of the treasures of those who have preceded him, and to transmit his collections to posterity. Man, in possession of ampler materials and superior capacity, becomes the architect of his own mind; and to him it is alone permitted, by the aid of experience, and the estimate of reason, to direct his actions: but this generous and exalted faculty involves him in awful responsibility. The same light which discovers to him that which is good and lawful, also exposes its opposite, which is evil and forbidden; and the nature of good and evil, as it forms the foundation of human institutions, has been derived from our experience of their effects, or a calculation of their tendencies. The will of man, therefore, is as free as his experience dictates, and his reason urges to action: yet, that he should often act in opposition to both, is as lamentable as certain: in the transport of immediate gratification, or in the hopes of enjoyment, precept ceases to influence, and example loses its warning.

Video meliora proboque, deteriora sequor.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] In some of these instances, where the will has ceased to influence the muscles, the due sensibility of the nerves has remained.--Medico-Chirurgical Transactions, vol. ix. p. 8.

[13] So little does the infant appear to possess any control over those organs which afterwards become subject to voluntary influence, that it may be sufficient to remark the flow of saliva, of urine, and the more solid evacuations, are subject to no restraint, and for some time are passed with little or no consciousness: even the motions which are excited in the limbs, appear to be spasmodic, rather than the effect of direction.

[14] Vide Darwin's Thesis de Spectris Ocularibus.

ON THOUGHT OR REFLECTION.

Those recollected objects, which have been transmitted by the senses, or which we have perceived by their means, are the subjects of our thoughts or reflections; for these terms will be indifferently employed, as designating the same faculty or process. The obvious meaning of the word _reflection_, is the representation of any object in a mirror. This term, so well understood in that department of natural philosophy named optics, has been transferred to mind, in order to explain a process, supposed to be similar. If, however, we examine the analogy, it will not accord:--to produce reflection in the mirror, the object must be present; in the mind, the reflection takes place when the object is absent. Although the simile, strictly speaking, is imperfect, yet the figure is beautiful, and, considering the metaphorical nature of language, as applied to mental operations, the most natural and appropriate that could have been selected; for, speaking in a general way, our thoughts, in themselves appear very much as the shadows or reflection of our perceptions. As we are but little capable of communicating the nature of our perceptions, independently of language, we must have recourse to inference and conjecture. It is fully understood that our visual perceptions, through the medium of recollection, may be represented by the skilful execution of the hand; and that those of smell, taste, and touch do not directly admit of such delineation. We might next inquire, if the odours we perceive are as strongly impressed on the olfactory organ, as the subjects of visual perception on the eye? Are they as fully and distinctly recollected? and are they capable by themselves of affording the materials for thought or reflection? Animals possess certain senses in common with ourselves; and, in many, the organs are more susceptible than our own; but there are no circumstances which have yet transpired, to induce us to suppose that the perceptions they have acquired are reviewed by their minds, when the objects which excited them are absent. The memory they possess of the perceptions they have experienced, is perhaps superior to that of human beings; still it does not appear, from any manifestations they afford, that it is actively exercised, as with ourselves, but occasionally excited by the recurrence of the object which originally produced it. Language is the pencil which marks the bold outline, and lends a colouring to our different perceptions; and with this boon man is exclusively gifted. A rational curiosity will prompt the reader to inquire, in what our perceptions consist independently of the language in which we ordinarily clothe them. In the instance of optical perception, we know that it is _something_ which is retained by the memory, and may be traced by the hand, so as to convince others that it is truly remembered or recollected[15]; but let the same enquiry be made concerning the perceptions we receive by the touch, the smell, and the taste: in this investigation we shall experience much greater difficulty, as it is an endeavour to conceive the nakedness of a figure which is always clothed. That these perceptions must also be _something_ abstracted from the terms which represent them, is proved, by the circumstance, that they are recollected when they occur again. As we are educated by language, and acquire a facility of employing it as the vehicle of our thoughts, we are little accustomed to contemplate the subject in this manner, and this also enhances the difficulty. When, however, the importance of speech is adequately considered, it will, I think, be detected, that the terms which we employ as the representatives of the perceptions of touch, smell, and taste, are the only media by which they can be voluntarily recollected or communicated to others; and, as signs of such perceptions, are equivalent to the representations by the hand of those which have been perceived by the organ of vision. To attempt the analysis of these silent deposits, to endeavour to describe these bare perceptions, would be altogether unavailing, because description implies language. In fact, it would be an effort to detect the symmetry of the human frame, by loading it with modern finery. The wonderful capacity which man exclusively enjoys, both for the communication of his thoughts, and for the improvement of his memory, in being enabled to acquire and transmit knowledge by impregnating sound with intelligence, and more especially in exhibiting its character embodied to the eye, leaves the rest of animated creation at a prodigious distance. This endowment of language to man, whereby he can, by an articulate sound, recall the perception of objects, (not indeed equal to the sensorial impression, but sufficient for their recollection, and also for the proof of their identity)--whereby he can with equal intelligence exhibit their character to the eye, is sufficient to explain of what the materials of his thoughts consist:--and to prove that animals being unable to substitute a term for their perceptions, are incapable of the process which we denominate thought or reflection. To fathom this mystery, is perhaps impossible; but, from attentively watching that which passeth within us,--from considering the state of animals which want this endowment altogether, it seems to be a law of our intellectual constitution, that our thoughts or reflections can only consist of the terms which represent our perceptions; and this is more evidently true, when we reflect on those subjects which are of a general or abstract nature.

Whoever will attentively watch the operation of his own mind,--for this subject admits of direct experiment,--will find that he employs terms when he conducts the process of reflection. In order to afford a fair trial, it is necessary that he should be alone, and subject to no interruptions. It will also add to the facility of the experiment, that he select a subject with which he is but little acquainted, as the process will be more deliberate. On topics with which we are familiar, we have acquired a rapidity of exercise which renders the detection of the process more difficult and perplexing. In this trial, he will be aware that he is repeating words as the materials of his thoughts. If the subject on which he should think involves persons with whom he is acquainted, or scenes he has viewed, he will, in addition to the terms he employs, have the pictures, or visible phantasmata, of these presented to his mind, conjunctively with such words. That we actually employ terms in this process is evident in many, who, when exercising their thoughts on any subject, are found, as we term it, talking to themselves; so that we are enabled to observe the motion of their lips: and this circumstance is to be noticed in most persons when they are counting.

The contrivances of language enable us to connect our thoughts; for our perceptions are distinct and individual, and of themselves can possess no elective attraction to _associate_ and combine: they may however, by repetition or habit, become so allied, that the occurrence of one will excite the sequence of the other. We ordinarily recollect them very much in the order and succession of their occurrence; but we are also able to arrange and class them, and by such means, of recollecting them according to the artificial order of their distribution. This may be exemplified in the various expedients that have been devised for the acquirement and retention of knowledge: thus, chronology records events according to the order of their occurrence; an encyclopaedia arranges according to alphabet or subject; and the most perfect of this kind, like the index to a book, consists in their mutual reference.

This wonderful faculty of thought or reflection, so far as we possess the means of detecting, appears to be peculiar to man; and if it be admitted to consist of our recollected perceptions, by the contrivances of language, we shall find that animals are not in possession of the necessary materials.

The ear transmits sounds to animals possessing this sense; and in some species it is so exquisitely susceptible, as to surpass, by many degrees, the acuteness of the same organ in the human subject. It is also recorded, that in some of the wilder tribes of man, the hearing possesses a delicacy of percipience unknown to the inhabitants of a polished community. Superadded to the conveyance of ordinary sound, the ear of man is the great inlet of communication, and the vehicle of articulate intelligence. Through the medium of this sense his knowledge becomes extended, and his memory improved; for every conversation is either a review of his stores, or an addition to his stock. As our thoughts or reflections are conducted by language, great caution is required that the terms we employ should possess a fixed and determinate meaning; and this is more especially important, when we employ words which are not the representatives of the objects of our perceptions, but of a complex nature, or, as they have been denominated, general terms; such as those which are used to designate the faculties and operations of the mind, and such as convey our moral attributes. The perfection of the process of thought, consists in the attention which the will can exert on the subjects of[16] consideration. The nature and endurance of the attention, which the organs of sense can bestow on the objects of perception, have been already discussed; and it will be found, that the same influence is directed when we exercise reflection: so that that mind is to be considered as most efficient, (in proportion to its natural capacity,) which can dwell on the subjects of its thoughts without interruption from irrelevant intrusions. The exertion of voluntary control over our thoughts has been denied; but if we were to subscribe to such doctrine, it would follow that this noble faculty of reflection would be merely a spontaneous concurrence of images and terms accidentally revived,--on rare occasions fortuitously blundering on wit, and ordinarily revelling in the absurdities of distraction. In proportion as we have been duly educated, we become enabled to direct and fix the organs of sense to the objects of perception, to be able at will to revive our memoranda, or to call on the memory to exhibit the deposits which have been confided to its custody, and to dwell pertinaciously on the materials of reflection. It is, however, certain, that in ordinary minds, the attention is little capable of being fixed to objects, and still less to the subjects of reflection; but this incapacity, in both instances, is principally to be attributed to the defects of education, and to a want of proper discipline of the intellectual powers. The endurance of attention in minds of the highest order, by a wise law of our constitution, is limited; and if it be attempted to continue the exertion beyond the natural power, the effort is infructuous. As straining the muscles produces fatigue, stiffness, and tremor;--as ocula spectra intrude on the forced and protracted attention of the visual organs,--so confusion ensues, when thought is racked and goaded to exhaustion.

As the staple of the human intellect is vastly superior to that of animals, so we find among our own species a considerable range of capacity; but however we may estimate mental excellence, it should be recollected, that its possession has seldom contributed to the happiness of the individual; so that experience would lead us to prefer the sober medium, which is included by a parenthesis, between the extremes of genius and dulness, and which appears to be the unenvied lot of the mass of society. The two great distinctions which mark the intellects of our species, seem to consist in the difference of character, which is established by those who excel in the exercise of their perceptions and consequent recollection, and those who cultivate and discipline the energies of thought. The former are distinguished by a vigorous activity, a penetrating and unwearied observation; their curiosity seems rather to be attracted by the object itself than directed by the mind. This incessant occupation and restless inquiry furnishes the memory with an abundant vocabulary: they recollect each object they have seen, and can retrace every path they have trodden; the ear greedily imbibes the conversations to which they are anxiously disposed to listen; that which they read, they verbally retain; they excel in quickness of perception and promptitude of memory, and appear to have every thing by heart; they are "the gay motes that people the sun-beams" of the intellectual world:--thus we find them, as inclination may sway, accurate chronologists, biographers pregnant with anecdote, expert nomenclators, botanists, topographers, practical linguists, and bibliographers; in short, the opulent possessors of whatever perception can detect, and memory preserve. The other order of men, (and they are comparatively few,) are the creatures of reflection:--with them the senses are little on the alert; they do not fatigue the wing by excursions through the field of nature; but that which the recollection retains becomes the subject of mental examination. An event is not registered from having merely occurred; but the causes which produced it are investigated, and a calculation is instituted concerning its probable tendency. Words are not simply regarded as the floating currency or medium of exchange, but they are severely subjected to analysis to establish their standard, or to detect the excess of their alloy; their senses are little awake to external impressions; the objects which a change of scene presents are slightly noticed, and feebly remembered; their curiosity is not attracted from without, but excited from within; they are strangers to the haunts of gay and mirthful intercourse, and are rather consulted as oracles, than selected as companions. This constant occupation of thought produces the philosophical historian, profound critic, physiologist, mathematician, general grammarian, etymologist, and metaphysician. After long exertion they become disposed to melancholic disquietude, and often turn in disgust from a world, the beauties of which they want an incentive to examine, and taste to admire. Both of these intellectual orders of our species contribute, but in different manners, to the stores of knowledge. The sound, efficient, and useful mind consists in a due balance and regular exercise of its different faculties.

How great soever the pains which an individual may bestow, to fix his thoughts to the examination of a particular subject, he will find that the effective duration of his attention is very limited, and that other thoughts, often wholly unconnected with the subject, will intrude and occupy his mind; on some occasions they are so prevailing and importunate, that he loses the original subject altogether. It is acknowledged, that the soundest and most efficient mind, is distinguished by the control it is capable of exerting on its immediate thoughts; which consist, as has before been observed, of terms, and the phantasmata of visible recollection:--this wandering of the thoughts to other subjects, or this intrusion of irrelevant words and pictures, whichever may be the case, appears to bear a very strong resemblance to a morbid state. It is usually the attendant on indolence, and has probably its source in a want of the proper occupation of mind, and, by indulgence, may become an incurable habit. Yet this rumination of mind has its votaries: by some it is courted as a delightful amusement, and eulogies are bestowed on the incoherent tissue of these reveries and day-dreams. Although these illegitimate offsprings of "retired leisure" may be considered as a perversion of the noblest attribute of man; yet they serve, in some degree, to recruit our recollection of past transactions, which might otherwise have faded in obscurity, or perished from natural decay. In the soundest and most refreshing sleep we seldom dream; so, in those wholesome exercises of the intellect where the mind is fully occupied, and, more especially, when such pursuit is combined with bodily exertion, these masterless associates do not intrude. By continuance, this habit may be so formidably increased, more especially under the guidance of malignant or depressing passions, that these shadows become embodied, and assume a form so potent and terrible, that the will is unable to bind them down, and the understanding attempts to exorcise them in vain.

The act of thought or reflection, therefore, appears to consist, not in the operation of an exclusive and particular faculty, but in the voluntary recollection of pictures, as far as visible perception is involved, and of terms or words which are the types or representatives of our perceptions, together with those general terms, which are to be considered as abbreviations of meaning or intelligence. All this would, however, only amount to an act of memory, of such pictures and terms, particular and general; and would not comprehend or include their analysis, estimate, admeasurement, or _ratio_, with inquiries into their source and tendency, which is denominated _reason_, and which will compose the materials of the following chapter. Suffice it to observe that our thoughts on any subject can only be according to the extent of our knowledge of things and opinions; and, therefore, that our thoughts or reflections necessarily involve our reasonings, as they are only recollections without them.

FOOTNOTES:

[15] In this capability animals will never rival us, as they are deficient of the _hand_, the operative instrument by which it is effected.

[16] It may be proper to explain the origin and meaning of this word, and of another usually employed in a similar sense, namely, contemplation. The former is compounded of _cum_ and _sidus_, and presumes a fixity of mind adequate to the survey of the heavenly bodies; the latter is derived from _cum_ and _templum_, and imports the same gravity and concentration of thought which we carry to the fane of devotion.

ON REASON.

The opinions of the thinking part of mankind have been much divided concerning the signification of the term Reason. Every person, conceives himself privileged to reason upon all the subjects of human intelligence; and whatever he may chuse to offer on any side of a question, he denominates his reasons for or against it. By some, this power is held to be the exclusive possession of man; and such persons naturally conclude that an offence is offered to his intellectual dignity, if the smallest portion be conceded to the most docile animals. This is, however, a question for future examination, and will be discussed when their faculties are more particularly investigated. Those who have affirmed that our own species is exclusively gifted with reason, have not in any manner defined the nature of this faculty, or enumerated the steps of the process by which reasoning is performed: indeed, so ambiguous has been the signification annexed to this term, that it is not uncommon to meet, in the best authors, with the expressions of right reason, false or inconclusive reasonings, absurd reasons, &c. These epithets are, however, perfectly correct, as will be demonstrated in the course of this enquiry.