wmmm pes**?. *$J &'&' wm. PEwivr BRISTOL, IrRA.. -^ lilf SURGEON GENERAL'S OFFICE LIBRARY. Section, M. jSfkl fc, A FAMILIAR FORENSIC VIEW MAN AND LAW By ROBERT B. WARDEN. " The sciences are of a sociable disposition."—Blackstonb. ■£?}F ■ n't Pi COLUMBUS: FOLLETT, FOSTER AND COMPANY. MDCCCLX. w GOO « W2£5f I860 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, By ROBERT B. WARDEN, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of Ohio. FOLLETT, FOSTER * CO., Printers, Stereotypers, Binders and Publishers, COLUMBUS, OHIO. TO HON. THOMAS EWING. Mr Dear Sir: I have begged permission to inscribe this work to you, because your eminence as a forensic expert is not that of a mere lawyer. You have acted on the faith of that saying of Blackstone, which I have selected as the motto of this volume. "Whether at the Bar or in the Senate, in high office or in private life, you have preferred the comprehensive to the narrow. By your own example you have proven that philosophy and jurisprudence, great success in practice and great liberality in studies and pursuits, may quite harmoniously form the character. I thank you equally for that example and for the permission to inscribe my work to you. The former has encour- aged me to offer my production to the public; the latter has enabled me to connect with that production such a name as may secure for it just estimation and fair criticism. More than this no writer has a right to ask. Your much obliged, R. B. WARDEN. ERRATA. Page 19, line 16, for constrains read constrain. " 112, " 18, " needful " needless. " 145, " 25, " science " art. " " " 26, " art « sci^ce. 198, 244, 266, 352, 400, 3, " Eomeopathists " Ebmosopathists. 2, " that 11, " cerebuttum 23, " remember 4, " marital 416, head-line," TVefo'ra " the. " cerebellum. " remind. " conjugal. " Cretin. 494, before Impulsive insert Doctrine of. TABLE OF CONTENTS. BOOK I. INITIAL OBSERVATIONS. CHAPTER I. ^gk First Appearance of Man in Nature and Art...................... 1 CHAPTERS H, HI, IV. The Brotherhood involved in Unity of Origin..................... 14 CHAPTER V. Man, the " Lawer "............................................... 75 CHAPTER VI. The Zoologic Rank of Man........................................ 93 BOOK II. FORENSIC PHYSIOLOGY. CHAPTER L The Need and Characters of a Forensic Physiology..............."107 CHAPTERS II, III, IV, V, VI. Sources of Forensic Physiology................................119-204 CHAPTER VH. View of an Ideal Standard Man................................... 205 CHAPTER Vni. Mind-Force and Nerve-Force...................................... 229 VI CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. PAGB Nearer View of the Nerves...................................... 241 CHAPTER X. The Eye and its Connexions....................................... 255 CHAPTER XI. Theory of Perception.....................e...................... 267 CHAPTER XII and XIII. Varieties of Cerebration.................................• • • • • 290-307 CHAPTER XIV. Body and Mind.—Hallucinations and Illusions..................... 329 CHAPTER XV. The Understanding and the Will................................. 345 CHAPTER XVI. Concluding View of Standard Man................................ 369 CHAPTER XVII. Type Womanhood................................................. 386 CHAPTER XVHI. Life in its Beginnings............................................ 400 CHAPTER XIX. Infancy and Idiocy................................................ 412 CHAPTER XX. Childhood, Youth and Adolescence................................ 429 CHAPTER XXI. From Infancy to Age............................................. 444 CHAPTER XXII. Facts and Fancies in Pathology...................................454 CHAPTER XXHI. Physical and Psychical Etiology.................................. 471 CHAPTER XXIV. Varieties of Madness............................................. 489 CHAPTER XXV. Pathology v. Jurisprudence....................................... 505 CHAPTER XXVI. Final Observations.............................. ................ 531 PREFACE. As will be seen from the opening chapter of Book First, this work presents itself to general readers. It is not a law-book merely, though it is a lawyer's view of Man and Law. A glance at chapters I, V, and VI, of Book First, to- gether with chapters I, II, VII, and XXVI, of Book Second, may enable readers to conjecture what the wri- ter has in view in his design at large. More careful reading of these chapters will reveal the fact, that the en- tire design of the work includes a yet unpublished Book. That Book will be conversant chiefly about Polity and Jurisprudence. It will deal with the development of Art and Law, with Forms of Law and Jural Forms (or Legal Formal Acts), and with other objects of interest in a Forensic View of Man and Law. Although it is by no means necessary to include Book Third in the volume here offered to the public, I expected, when the printing of this volume was com- menced, to make Book Third a part of it. This state- ment will explain some sentences which readers will encounter in Book Second. viii PREFACE. When I entertained the expectation alluded to, I im- agined that I should be able to condense the yet unpublished book so that it might appropriately consti- tute a mere division of a single volume. But I have discovered, that such condensation of Book Third as would be necessary in order to make it part of this publication, would involve a great departure from the object of the work at large. On the other hand, the present volume is so complete in itself, and so independ- ent of Book Third, that it may, with propriety, be pre- sented as it is, and as though Book Third had not been part of my design. BOOK FIRST. INITIAL OBSERVATIONS. CHATTER I. FIRST APPEARANCE OF MAN IN NATURE AND ART. ANY view of Man that promises to add to our ready knowledge of human nature, or to make us more dili- gent students of a rational Anthropology, may well be offer- ed to the general reader. A forensic view of Man, by any competent observer, may alike increase our familiarity with human nature and add new attractions to the study of all that is worthy of respect in Anthropology. A forensic view of Man, as here intended, is, simply, a view of Man from the forensic stand-point. All may well participate in such an observation of the physical and psychical in Man as may be taken in a court of justice. Lawyers may, indeed, be chiefly interested in such an observation. But we shall discover, that all who are disposed to study hu- man nature, with attention, with regard to what is real in the learning known as Anthropology, and with the purpose to discriminate the practical from the speculative in that learning, may with great propriety take part in a forensic view of Man. How is it with a forensic view of Law ? Such a view is almost necessarily practical in its re- sults. The forum does, indeed, to some extent, suggest the speculative in philosophy. If readers, of whatever class, will but participate in the intended observation, they 2 NATURE OF HIE VIEW PROPOSED. will find that principles of metaphysical philosophy, which simple speculation has discerned and theorists have made a part of jurisprudence, are applied to practice in the min- istry of justice. So that here, as elsewhere, we may often find it difficult to draw the line between the so-called spe- culative and the so-called practical. But a forensic view of Jurisprudence and of Anthropology, must aim, at least, to attain to the real, practical, and practicable, in the phi- losophy of human nature. Thus a forensic view of Law will endeavor to discern the fitness or unfitness of all legal maxims, doctrines, and forms or modes of art. The fit- ness or unfitness of these maxims, doctrines, and forms or modes of art, must be determined with strict reference to the various knowledges of human nature which philosophy presents to our consideration. If we can but ascertain the truthful in the Philosophy of Man, we may ascertain the truthful in the Philosophy of Law. Now, all who live where Law exerts its forces have a vital interest in the question whether the forensic philosophy is or is not truth- ful. Thus, it would appear, all thinkers may be summon- ed to whatever view of Law fairly compares the forensic Anthropology with other forms of the philosophy of hu- man nature. A fair and full forensic view of Law, I shall attempt to show, involves the comparison alluded to. It is not, then, to lawyers only that this book presents itself. That some of its contents may chiefly interest the legal mind, and even may chiefly relate to the -practice of the law, I do not wish to hide from any reader. But I do not look to lawyers only for the estimation of this humble offering to science. Thinkers of all classes are invited to become fair judges of this book. As we proceed, we shall discover, that no single art no single interest, exclusively engages our attention. Man Law, Nature, Art, present themselves to observation in a court of justice. THE FORUM. 3 To manifest the interest of such a view of Man and Law as that here offered, we need only to proceed directly to behold Man in a Court of Law; Law in the place of its enforcement; Art in the place of its nearest relation to Law, and active in the enforcement of the latter; Nature as supplying the forces and the substances in which the Art of Man gives application to the Law of Man. The writer chooses to summon his readers into the place, where most of his studies have been, for some years, rela- ted to the practice of the Law. We enter a building differing from all by which it is surrounded. However rude or mixed its architecture, the image of blind Justice with her sword and scales, which makes the highest point and the distinctive mark of the edifice, informs us of its purpose. And when we enter, all we see confirms the information. It is true, that neither the axe, nor the sword, nor the wheel, nor the fagot, nor the rope, reminds us of the times when the ostentation of the armor of justice distinguished the place of judgment. The judge, plainly appareled, but raised above the rest, attracts attention by his place and voice; but no grim servant of the law attends him with the ensigns of its forces. There is present hardly an em- blem of the might of Man, enforcing order through mate- rial instruments of Law. Only man's hand, only man's unweaponed hand, is here applied by his will to the en- forcement of his law. But even if all the grosser forces, of which the axe, the wheel, the fagot, and the rope, are but types, were here, " To fright the souls of fearful adversaries" of the Law, we should still remark, that man's knowledge of his need, man's exercise of his capacity, man's gratifi- cation of his affections, alone enforce his Law. Without 4 NATURE MODIFIED BY ART. the movement of man's will, and the might and cunning of his hand, when expressing that will, under the correc- tion of reason, all the grosser instruments of law in place and force would only rot or rust. And here we find this man—without whom law would have no power save when miraculous enforcement should be made of God's com- mandments to His creature—busy in artful operations, employing the forces of nature in righting the wrong, in ascertaining the right, in enforcing the law. The superiority alike of the Art.and of the destiny of Man appears in all that we observe, and in all of which we hear, in this court of justice. The solemn appeals to man's responsibility to God, the solemn recognitions of man's destiny to know, and love, and be forever joined to God, by which the production of testimony, the arguments of counsel, and the reasons of judgment, are distinguished, show how the science and the art of law attest the noble destiny of human nature. Of this attestation we shall see more hereafter. At present let it suffice to note, that the science of the law—with which the art must be harmoni- ous—appears to begin with God and to end with God; that it seems to be, as one has well suggested, the science of the steps which man makes towards the noble end already recognized.* But let ua take, in this immediate connection, such an observation only as will show what is distinctly natural, and what distinctively belongs to Art, in what we here behold. Hardly an object meets our glances, or attracts our scru- tiny, within this building, or immediately connected with it, in which Nature, modified by Art, is not thrown into strong relief. And so we cannot carefully examine this forensic scene, without perceiving how it is connected with the wonderful variety of Nature, as she manifests herself (a) See Domat's beautiful Treatise of Laws, introductory to his " Civil Law in its Natural Order." NATURE'S WATS AND WORKS. 5 throughout the wide extent of earth and sea and air. The Nature, modified with reference to the pursuits of life forensic, is none other than the Nature which philosophers and poets have conspired to deify. We cannot here per- mit ourselves to worship Nature. Lessons taught with sharp distinctness daily teach the lawyer to distinguish well between the blind subjection of the Natural to the Divine and the Divine itself—between the action of the Voluntary and the action of the Involuntary. We are not in danger here of finding only Nature in the wonders work- ed throughout the sphere, with which this human life, by presence or by knowledge, is conversant. Yet even here, where human Art has built a temple dedicated to the Law, in which that Art is most conspicuously manifested, we may study Nature, conning with delight the lessons taught by science and by poetry alike of Nature's wonder-working sway. How Nature moulds the mountain; how she scoops the vale, and shapes the hill, and spreads the plain; how she indents the ocean coasts, and bounds the lakes, and guides the flow and fall of mighty rivers, or the dropping of the tinkling rills; how she provides, here flowers, and there tempting fruits; how she is circulating in the veins alike of men, and trees, and tender cereals; how she de- scendeth in " the gentle rain from heaven, Upon the place beneath," and shineth in the sweet contention of the sun and air, which shall excel in brightening and blessing; how she is beautiful in human forms and powerful in human hearts, most mighty in a mother's love; how the ennobling pas- sion for the Good, the True, the Beautiful, though Art, exalted by God's grace, do most ennoble it, is born of Nature; — all this we may study here with hearts not ill attuned for such exalting contemplations. But what most concerns us here is that, in which Man's 6 FORENSIC ART. life has greatest prominence. We have not yet noticed all in which the nearness, yet the numerical and specific dif- ference of Art and Nature, may be studied in this place of judgment. If the architecture of the building has not perfectly expressed its meaning as a work of Art (as Art shall presently be defined), the operations of the human hand, the utterances of the human voice — all, in a word, which we behold " at bar," within the building, speaks to us of Art not ill accomplishing its purpose, and again of Nature, clearly distinguishable from the merely artful, yet most intynately joined to Art. An art, peculiar to the ministry of justice, rules each trial that we witness. The question to be tried is always made by written pleadings, ordered to conform to settled rules. The coming into court of parties and of witnesses, and the presence and duties in court of judges, lawyers, jurors, and attendant and executive officers — all these things are ruled by art. Little, indeed, is left entirely to the impulse of the moment. Witnesses are sworn to tell the truth, and jurors take the solemn oaths of triers, not alone when some one calls for such solemnity, but com- monly, and as in course. In each case, we see the art peculiar to the ministry of justice making the same tests of testimony, subjecting to the like ordeal, claims of right or matters of defense. In all this forensic art, the nearness yet distinctness and specific difference of Art and Nature are apparent. They are apparent in the part which body plays with refer- ence to that performed by mind, when purposed acts occur; and they are equally apparent when unpurposed action of the body and unpurposed action of the mind fill up the intervals of purposed action. Presently, indeed it will appear, that human life belongs distinctively in part to Nature, and in part to Art. But it will not appear that life, the natural, is or can be far removed from life as life belongs to Art. But more of this hereafter. THE ARTFUL AND THE NATURAL. 7 What we learn from scrutinizing human life as here ap- parent, we must also learn from all that human Art has here assembled and combined. Nature, working ever, ever teaching human Art, and all the Art below the Art of angels, that the artful has its limits, and that Nature only yields to Art in one direction, to surprise and to sub- due it in another; Art, subdued, surprised, and brought to nothingness in one direction, finding out another way to modify and to control the natural, and ever multiplying objects for man's characteristic affection for the Good, the True, and the Beautiful; this Nature and this Art are present in each feature of the place, in which we make our observation. In these grounds, which public spirit has set apart for health and for adornment, in the place where Justice is to be administered, we have the forms of veget- ative life, which taste would set apart for such a purpose; and we have the art of man accomplishing what taste has pointed out as fit to be performed. The trees, the tender, trampled grass, with its neglected clover blooms, the paved and unpaved walks—these tell us how Nature and the Art of Man live neighborly together. The building, which arises in the midst of the restrained and disciplined veget- ative life we have been contemplating—sculptured Justice crowning it with its distinctive ornament—its firm found- ation and its various superstructure,—these again show the close intimacy which subsists between the artful and the natural. No particles of matter would cohere—no matter would be present—could we banish Nature from this scene, though here the Art of Man seems at a first glance most notably of all apparent, and though here that Art has certainly been busy, not without effect. Nature being banished, not one stone would stand upon another—not one atom would exist of all which we behold. Art being banished, tangled vegetation, poisonous productions mixed with wholesome growths, disorder where we now find order, 8 NEARNESS OF ART AND NATURE. would convert the scene into a wretched wilderness. For Nature was designed to meet and to embrace, and even to possess, in some degree, the life of Man, and to confess the power, and obey the sceptre, of this highest of the earthly artists. So, complying, yet most mighty, Nature now submits, now checks; now owns the modifying power of Art, now teaches Art like lessons to the lesson taught at Babel. Light, enabling us to contemplate the scene, inviting us to enter and survey the works of human Art within the building, streams through manufactured glass; and shadows fall within the house from objects which the hand of man alone can shape. Air, purer in the grounds than in the building, owns the power of the artful, yet asserts its own natural capacity to limit the capacity of human Art. Nay, in the very shapes of human bodies, what the Art of Man can do is here apparent. What the mind may owe to Art, and how the mind is subject to the artful, we shall see more clearly in another place. Yet here and now we are prepared to own, that it is in Man— so wonder-working in the realm of Nature, modifying so incalculably all that Nature brings within his reach—that Nature is most limitary, and that Art finds most resist- ance. You cannot shape a man as you would shape a statue. Returning thus to human life, as manifesting the exceed- ing intimacy yet the clear distinctness of the artful and the natural, we have occasion to reiterate, that it is in human life that we can best discern the nearness yet spe- cific difference of Art and Nature. What belongs in Man to Art rather than to Nature, we may best discover, by reviewing Man's original appear- ance in the Order of Nature and the Order of Art. And so it is, that from this scene of Art, and of Nature modified by Art, sustaining Art, and setting bounds to Art, a view of human Art in its beginnings seems to beck- PHYSIOLOGICAL DISTINCTIONS. 9 on us. Let us near it. It will teach us many things, in which the intellect may find what the affections will em- brace with interest. In contemplating the beginning of human art, we con- template the first appearance of Man in the Order of Art. This appearance is, if Genesis be not a fabulous and now discredited narration, the appearance of a single individu- al. Adam first appears in the Order of Nature; next, and almost simultaneously, in the Order of Art. In distinguishing between the first appearance of the first of men in the Order of Nature, and his first appear- ance in the Order of Art, it may be necessary to define a little, and to repeat a little. Nature, Art, and Law, are words familiar to abuse. They mean now this, now that, now nothing. I purpose no inconvenient strictness in their use in the present work. On the contrary, I may be charged with looseness in the use of the terms Nature and Art. I propose to distinguish between them, however, in accordance with what I under- stand to be their well established meaning, though not precisely according to the distinction which most frequent- ly presents itself in current literature. In view of the here intended distinction between the Order of Nature and the Order of Art, I ask the reader to invade with me the realm of Physiology. The Physiolo- gists distinguish between the Organic or Vegetative Life of Man and his Animal Life, or Life of Relation.b The Organic Life of Man, although most intimately connected with the Life of Will, and constantly affected more or less by wilful acts and by emotions springing out of wilful acts, is quite Involuntary. It belongs, therefore, to Nature, which I would distinguish as the realm of the Involuntary. Nature, I would say, contains all inanimate (b) Carpenter, Human Phys. 48. 10 VEGETATIVE AND ANIMAL LIFE. things, all vegetative life, and all the involuntary life of animals. It includes the sum of the objects, forces, and changes, which involuntarily proceed and succeed, alter and stand related, in an order of which they have no con- sciousness. Its distinction is the absence of Will. Its action and changes are not obedience to Law. Whatever be the true characters of its forces, and howsoever God apply those forces, we feel safe in holding it to be subject- ed rather than intelligently obedient. If Nature may be thus defined—say, rather if the definition of Nature may be thus suggested—the Organic or Vegetative Life of Man, most evidently, is but natural. Its functions — or the groups or sets of its actions, " which, though different in themselves, concur in effecting some determinate purpose" —are directly concerned in the development and mainte- nance of the human fabric.0 We have no present occasion to examine, with micro- scopical scrutiny, the several organic or vegetative func- tions. Of Digestion, Circulation, Respiration, and the like, we need take at present only a passing notice. From the Organic Life of Man, Physiology distinguish- es Animal Life, designating as the functions of the latter, those which render the individual conscious of external impressions, and capable of executing spontaneous move- ments.d Of this Animal Life, a portion is apparently as involuntary as the whole of Organic Life. This portion of Animal Life, therefore, may be regarded as simply natural. But another, and this the highest, part of animal existence, is Volitional. This Volitional Life I would dis- tinguish as the Life of Art. For the purposes of the present work, Art may be de- fined as the intelligent and voluntary adaptation of means to ends; in contradistinction to Nature, in which as (c) Carpenter, 48. (d) lb. FIRST APPEARANCE OF MAN. 11 already observed, we find only the involuntary relation, procession, succession, and alteration, of objects, forces, changes, and phenomena. According to this distinction between Nature and Art, Man may be considered as having first appeared in the Order of Nature, but as having almost instantly thereafter appeared in the Order of Art. With reference to the same distinction, it is to be observed, that the Organic Life of Man may be regarded as constantly continuing in the Order of Nature, and as belonging to that Order only; and that the Animal Life of Man is active in the realm, and with the forces, of the simply natural. If, allowing some little liberty to fancy, we imagine Adam looking his first look upon creation, we may be enabled to distinguish clearly between the Organic or Vegetative, and the Animal Life of Man. The Bible does not more inform us of Adam's first im- pressions of the outward, than science informs us of the first impressions of the outward, in the history of infants. The scientific exegesis of the biblical account of Man's creation has large liberty of supposition. We may imag- ine Adam, when " man became a living soul," as standing in the midst of nature. Thus we best recognize one of the distinctive marks of our humanity, and thus do honor to the dignity of Man in nature. "Godlike, erect, with native honor clad, In naked majesty," the first of men may be imagined as facing first the objects soon to be his property, in that commanding attitude which marks him " Lord of all." At first, he stands upon the earth, unconscious of the out- ward as external to himself. Subjectively, a picture of 12 ADAM AND THE NATURAL. exceeding beauty is presented to his mind. Of the reality of which that picture is the appearance, he as yet knows nothing. Motionless except as his Organic life itself is motion, he is standing in the midst of motion and of rest. Silent in the midst of sound and stillness, he is inattentive to his thoughts, or does not think at all. As, thus visited by outward Nature rather than perceptive of the outward, Adam faces his destined dominion, he seems rather the most attractive form of the simply natural, than the Artist who is soon to modify the natural. We might almost fancy him some Plant of rare proportion and of various beauty, rather than the King of Animals and Lord of all the life below his own. How much of Organic Life is active in the frame of Adam, while we contemplate him standing thus, uncon- scious of relation, it would rudely break the spell of our imagination to inquire. But in his breathing, in the circulation of his blood, and in the other operations of organic life, which most distinctively belong to what is dignified in man, the life of Adam at the moment of our contemplation is as simply natural as any thing external to his body. Will is not yet active in the first of men. Purpose is as yet unknown to his experience. Relation to the objects which surround him has not dawned upon his mind. But soon a wondrous change appears in Adam. There was but now "No speculation in his eyes." But God has spoken to his soul—and he is looking out- ward on the loveliness of Nature. The outward smiles upon him. Nature offers him her sweet embraces. He moves, now slowly, now as if his feet were winged. Here he stoops to pluck a flower, there he reaches to the pend- ent clusters of the fruits of Paradise. His hand delights MAN APPEARS IN ART. 13 him with the sense of touch, and, with its delicate prehen- sile power, ministers in countless forms to his delight. Here it brings an odor nearer, there caresses some rare form of animal existence, and there aparts the interlacing vegetation, which had half concealed a prospect of some distant beauty. Man is full of life, and life is full of gratitude to the Source of life. Articulate and musical expressions of delight and thankfulness are mingling with the other sounds of Eden. The first hymn of Man to his Creator tones through Paradise. We thus behold Man appearing in Nature and in Art. In Nature, in the involuntary life of his body and the invol- untary receptivity and unpurposed action of his mind; in Art, in the wilful operations of his mind and the respons- ive action of his body. When Adam stands, more like a wondrous Plant than like a Man, his mind takes in what eye, and ear, and other organs, bring to it without its agency; but when he moves; when purpose guides his hand and gives direction to his feet; when he embraces pleasure as an object, or refers the Good to God; his mind is not receptive merely. It has grown active. It acts with purpose. Man appears in the Order of Art. CHAPTER H. THE BROTHERHOOD INVOLVED IN UNITY OF ORIGIN. IT is not without a purpose, that I point to the appear- ance of a single individual, as the first appearance of Man in the Order of Nature and in the Order of Art. From the beginning to the end of the studies here at- tempted, I would have the reader bear in mind the broth- erhood of Man. A distinctively forensic view of Man may indeed well reveal contending human passions, war- ring human interests, the evil that stands hostile to the good in human life. But it will reveal far more than this. It will reveal the sentiment of kindness conquering con- tending passions, reconciling warring interests, exalting over evil that which is its opposite. It will display the generous and emulative struggle of the good to distance competition in conferring, as well as the most opposite en- deavors of the heartless and the mean, in acquiring, what we call the goods of life. And, though I do not expect to find Man's motive for subjecting his participation in the life of Art to the restraint of Law, in the feeling of the brotherhood dependent on a common and consanguine descent from Adam, I may not conceal the value I attach to such a feeling, in connection with that motive, what- ever it may be. I am aware, that such writers as Agassiz argue, that the real unity of Mankind does not lie in the consanguinity THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN. 15 of a common descent, but has its basis in the participation of every race in the same moral nature, and in the com- munity of moral rights, which hence becomes the privilege of all. I am aware, also, that such argument appears to be regarded as "just and powerful," even by learned ad- vocates of the received doctrine touching human brother- hood.a But I discover in the received doctrine much to make me cling to it in this forensic Philosophy, unless compelled by love of truth to give it up. No small portion of the Good for which Man cultivates affection, grows out of the feeling of kindness, by which each individual feels connected with his fellow-men, when he considers them as derived, with himself, from a single pair, the parents of the human family. Nay, more. The enjoyment of this feeling of kindness is in itself part of the Good for which Man cherishes affection. Obedience to law, when law commands good neighborhood, seems easier—more " natural," as men would say—when neigh- bors can regard themselves as brothers, than when they have no assurance of a common origin. We are, indeed, informed that, rejecting the received doctrine, we are war- ranted in believing, that " men must have originated in nations as the bees have originated in swarms." b And it may be thought, that he who becomes disconsolate on learning that he cannot trace his origin to Adam, may console himself with the reflection, that he belongs to the same national hive to which his neighbor appertains. But I discover many reasons for doubting whether he could indulge such a reflection. Amalgamation of the nations is so frequent as to leave us quite at sea, when we inquire into the national derivation of particular individuals. And only learned men—philosophers, philanthropists, cos- mopolites—can scale the height, from which the signifi- (a) Carpenter's Human Physiology, 835. (b) Types of Mankind, 78, quoting Agassiz. 16 VALUE OF RECEIVED DOCTRINES. cance of a common descent from a single primeval pair, becomes lost to view. We, who live nearer the earth, discern it clearly. Travelers in climes most distant, find no region where the question, "Are not all men brothers?" loses its importance. In the common ways of life, the question never can be asked, and answered by the heart, without contributing to make men better satisfied with duty, kindlier in sentiment, more neighborly in conduct; in a word, more willing to maintain the Law. A real value, then, resides in the received opinion, touch- ing human origin and the existing human brotherhood. A forensic thinker will not easily surrender this opinion, when informed that the participation of every race in the same moral nature, and in the community of moral rights, which hence becomes the property of all, is a " bond which every man feels more and more the farther he advances in his intellectual and moral culture, and which in this de- velopment is continually placed upon higher and higher ground; so much so, that the physical relation arising from a common descent is finally lost sight of, in the consciousness of the higher moral obligations."0 For, a forensic thinker must remember, that the feeling of the brotherhood in question is not inconsistent with the con- sciousness of the "higher obligations" alluded to; and that, at the came time that it is powerful with those who feel the higher obligations, it is not less significant to minds which may not reach the height at which the value of the "higher obligations" best appears. And when the advocates of the novel doctrine of Human Unity existing in Plurality of Origin, inform us, that " while Africans have the hearts and consciences of human beings, it could never be right to treat them as domestic cattle or wild fowl, if it were ever so abundantly demonstrated that i (c) Carpenter, 835; quoting, perhaps, Agassiz, or perhaps a writer in the " New Quarterly Review." SLAVERY AND BROTHERHOOD. 17 their race was but an improved species of ape, and ours a degenerate kind of god;" forensic thinkers may admit the truth proposed, but they must see its painful suggest- iveness. They must see how it suggests the eagerness, with which those who cling to property in Africans, have sought out scientific pretexts for denying that the negro race is of the same species as the white race. They must see how novel theories, asserting the original inferiority and specific difference of the negro type, may have con- tributed to that unhappy judgment, which alike perverted justice and ignored the history of our experiment in gov- ernment—which alike violated our own constitution and degraded our pretensions to an elevated rank among the Christian nations—by deciding that a negro may be owned precisely as a horse is property. And so forensic thinkers will begin to think of all the mischief that may follow the abandonment of the received opinion, that all men are derived from a single primeval pair. Perhaps they may discover many doctrines more objectionable than the doc- trine which denies the correctness of that received opinion; but they cannot carefully examine the relations of right and duty, by which individuals are connected in society, without discovering much to warn them against the hasty reception of the novel doctrine. Imperfect as the sanctions of all human law appear to be at present, they would be still more imperfect if the Christian doctrine of the unity in origin and destiny, which constitutes the brotherhood of man, should be surrendered to the scientific theorists, who now propose to stamp that doctrine as absurd. While, therefore, not caring much to question whether a unity, which might, in the better days of philosophy, be nearly as striking as that of consanguinity, might have existed in the absence of consanguinity, I believe that the unity actually existing is more perfect than the supposed unity, which might have existed; and that, in a forensic 2 jg ONE ORIGIN, ONE DESTINY. Philosophy of Man and Law, the real Unity has a greater value than could ever have been discovered m the Unity which might have been substituted for it. The existing unity connects the individuals composing the society of Man, by ties so tender, in an origin so noble, and a des- tiny so high, that we cannot come to speak of Law as affecting human intercourse without perceiving its import- ance. But I have another reason for beginning this work with the recognition of the first appearance of Man in Nature and in Art, as the appearance of a single individual. The development and progress of Art and Law may best be comprehended, when we thus recognize the "first begin- nings" of Law and Art. But have I warrant for continuing to hold the doctrine rejected by Agassiz ? It was in Nott and Gliddon's " Types of Mankind," that the writer first encountered the doctrine already alluded to, according to which men were created in nations. A work, for the production of which Agassiz is largely the creditor of the scientific world, has since appeared. In that elaborate and admirable work, Agassiz has not abandoned the doctrine just presented to the reader. On the contrary, he says: " It was a great progress in our science, when the more extensive and precise knowledge of the geographical distribution of organized beings forced upon its cultivators the conviction, that neither animals nor plants could have originated upon one and the same spot upon the surface of the earth, and hence have spread more and more widely until the whole globe became in- habited. It was really an immense progress which freed science from the fetters of an old prejudice; for, now we have the facts of the case before us, it is really difficult to conceive how, by assuming such a gradual dissemination from one spot, the diversity which exists in every part of AGASSIZ, MORTON, NOTT. 19 the globe could ever have seemed to be explained. But even to grant distinct centers of distribution for each spe- cies within their natural boundaries, is only to meet the facts half way, as there are innumerable relations between the animals and plants which we find associated every- where, which must be considered as primitive, and cannot be the result of successive adaptation. And if this be so, it would follow that all animals and plants have occupied, from the beginning, those natural boundaries within which they stand to one another in such harmonious relations. Pines have originated in forests, heaths in heathers, grass- es in prairies, bees in hives, herrings in schools, buffaloes in herds, men in nations!" In opposition to this doctrine, love of truth, and interest in the production of a true forensic Philosophy of Man and Law, constrains me to adhere to the belief, that Black- stone and the Bible well distinguish Adam as our first ancestor. I am quite aware of the apparent audacity of such a declaration. Not Agassiz only has rejected that account of the apparition of Man in Nature and in Art, which I determine to respect. " After twenty years of observation and reflection," says Dr. Morton, " during which period I have always ap- proached this subject with diffidence and caution; after investigating for myself the remarkable diversities of opin- ion to which it has given rise, and after weighing the difficulties that beset it on every side, I can find no satis- factory explanation of the diverse phenomena that char- acterize physical Man, excepting in the doctrine of an original plurality of races." d More stormy, but less powerful, is that assault on Gene- sis, of which the learned Nott is captain. He has done with the attempt " to conciliate sectarians, and to recon- (d) Types, 305. 20 ENCOUNTERS WITH THE SCIENTIFIC. cile the plain teachings of science with theological preju- dices." He has " no longer any apologies to make, nor favors of lenient criticism to ask." He nails " the broad banner of science" to the mast of the vessel, in which he departs from the harbor of received opinions. Really, if life forensic had not taught the writer some- thing of the limits in which scientific theories deserve acceptance, he might tremble at the thought of thus en- countering the teaching of Agassiz, the assured conviction of Morton, and the stormy declamation of the learned Doctor, resident in Alabama. We, who, for the most part, meet the scientific in the shape of sworn opinions, are taught some curious lessons, relating to the proper estimation of the scientific in opin- ion. We encounter science, making no pretension to be learned out of our own calling, save as a certain superficial learning in the other sciences is involved in a thorough knowledge of the law. But the superficial learning allu- ded to is not to be despised. It takes note, chiefly, of the relations of the arts and sciences. I call it superficial only as compared to the exhaustive learning, which those devoted to particular sciences acquire in their preferred studies. It enables us to stand erect, with knees quite free from knocking, in the presence of opinions, which, though arrogating scientific rank, are hostile to the common sense of men. In thus encountering the arrogance of science, lawyers only claim, at last, the common right to judge of scientific theories, with some additions, drawn from practice in ex- amining the testimony of experts, and from a general familiarity with rules of evidence and tests of testimony. In presuming here to hold received opinions, notwith- standing a supposed scientific demonstration of their falsity, I arrogate nothing, which the intelligent reader will deny to me or to himself. I enter on this task with- EXPERTS IN THE COURTS. 21 out the slightest pretension to learning, as learning is commonly estimated. I pretend to no ability to try the scientific theories which aim to set aside the Biblical account of Man's crea- tion, except as we, the jurors of all scientific controversies —we, the common, unpretending, undistinguished public, to whom scientific theories appeal for favorable verdicts— are supposed to have ability to hear the learned, and de- cide, from time, against or for whatever they advance against the common faith, or offer as additions to the sum of common knowledge. We may err. We know that we are liable to error. We know how often we have crucified the truth, while aiming only to make truth triumphant. We know how often we have been compelled to set aside our verdicts, and to accord the laurel where we had insane- ly ordered ignominy. But we also know, that learning has its answering follies and offenses. We cannot always trust to learning. Learning is but fallible and peccable, at last. We must not find a Living Buddha in each haughty teacher of the scientific. We must reverence the truth too much to take for truth all that the learned press upon us. Fallible, and sensible that we are fallible, we must not only strike, but hear; but we must strike as well as hear. Considerations such as these are forced from time to time on the attention of all. But in the life of lawyers, they are constantly enforced. At bar, the lawyer often meets the learning of experts, so proud, so haughty, so insanely arrogant, as almost to defy all question; yet so baseless, so extravagant, so fanciful, or otherwise unwor- thy of reception, as to prove that learning is not seldom twin to folly. Lawyers often meet this learning as they should not meet it. Nay, they often rail at learning which deserves the highest honor. But their error will not seem quite inexcusable, when we consider with what 22 THE BOOK OF GENESIS. "Fantastic tricks before high Heaven,'' scientific theorists have moved the tears of angels. Far from us be it, however, to regard Agassiz as un- worthy of respect in his opinions. We may safely reject those opinions, but we cannot fail to honor him who holds them. I adhere to the history of Man contained in Genesis, only so far as the purpose of the narrative, as I shall here- after endeavor to explain that purpose, has controlled the language of the sacred writer. I shall treat as sacred, as connected with the dearest interests of Christian civiliza- zation, all that may be considered as the execution of the purpose, and the expression of the thoughts, with which the sacred writer was inspired. This adherence to the Mosaic record of creation appears to me a warranted adherence, notwithstanding all that science has established or is likely to establish. I shall not, here, or in any part of the present work, undertake to vindicate the record against all objections. Many of the objections have been so well encountered elsewhere, that I have a right to consider them as quieted. Others, however, are so recent, or so recently presented in seem- ingly formidable shapes, as to call for some examination in a forensic view of Man. We are not to be expected here to examine questions, which have been frequently examined by the learned and the competent, and quieted in favor of the commonly re- ceived opinion. We need not here examine the question whether the diversity of color now observed among typese of mankind, is inconsistent with that commonly received opinion, according to which all human life began in Adam, and in her whom we consider as the mother of the human (e) Of course, I use this word in its common sense, and not as Ethnologists employ it. THE ARGUMENT DERIVED FROM COLOR. 23 race. It is enough to know that Physiologists discover many theories, which may account for the diversity of color, without involving the surrender of the commonly received belief of men, respecting human origin. We may content ourselves with a single word in passing, so far as color is concerned. It may not be absolutely puerile to suggest, that the learned may well busy themselves with the endeavor to answer the following questions: What was probably the color of Noah? What was the color of Noah's wife? Were this husband and this wife of the same color? If they were of different colors, were their varieties of color proximate or widely variant ? Independent of the influ- ences of parental ideas, what would be the colors of their offspring ? What is the influence of parental ideas on the color and other peculiarities of offspring ? What parental ideas may be attributed to Noah and his wife ? What was the probable influence of physical nature—what the probable influence of religious sentiments and habits on those ideas ? What is the true physiological theory of the influence of climate in deepening or varying color? When questions such as these shall have been carefully examined and fairly answered, we may begin to speculate on the question whether the observed diversities of human color affect the probability, that all the individuals known as men were derived from a single human pair. I will only venture to add, that I am unaware of any physiological reason for doubting that colors, which might afterwards be varied—paled or deepened—by moral or physical causes, may have appeared in the family of Noah and in their immediate descendants. What we consider as un- alterable in color may not really be unalterable. We have no knowledge, justifying us in asserting positively, that color is unalterable. But now we encounter quite another style of objection to the narrative in Genesis. 24 AGASSIZ'S THEORY. The objection which I shall first notice is presented by Agassiz. Agassiz cannot be attacked as many Ethnolo- gists might be attacked. He has acquired the reputation of candor, while winning the renown of an exhaustive learning. We must deal with him as with no contempt- ible antagonist. And yet, on our allegiance to the truth, we must resist his theories when they resist the truth, which ages have received and Christianity continues to regard as vital. In considering what Agassiz urges, we may well con- sider that the learned Dr. Nott and his consular associate, have urged to the same effect, in a book which I cannot but regard as slightly missionary in its character/ The book alluded to seems to me too intimately related to cer- tain local interests, to be beyond the reach of censure as to the spirit in which it is written; but I propose, never- theless, to examine some of its theories. The examination I propose may be, in some sort, foren- sic. We may consider, that we have erected a proper tribunal, in which we may try the following allegations: 1. There is no evidence, that mankind originated from a common stock. 2. There is evidence, that " the diversity among animals is a fact determined by the will of the Creator, and their geographical distribution part of the general plan, which unites all organized beings into one great organic concep- tion : whence it follows, that what are called human races, down to their specialization as nations, are distinct pri- mordial forms of the type of man." * Separating the issues which our denial of these proposi- tions constitutes, we may first try the allegation, that there is no evidence that mankind originated from a common stock. Our denial of this allegation is equivalent to an (f) Types of Mankind. (g) lb.—Sketch contributed by Agassiz, lxxv. HIS CONSTRUCTION OF GENESIS. 25 affirmation, that there is evidence that mankind origin- ated from a common stock. Making such an affirmation, we ma}7 proceed as holding the affirmative. Accordingly, we offer here the narrative in Genesis. In offering this narrative, I do not overlook how a portion of its contents seems to be contradicted by such scientific demonstration as the learned and the pious quite harmoniously take for demonstration. And, as we shall see hereafter, I am not disposed to make a close construction of the narrative, except as it refers directly to the origin, the destiny, the duties of mankind. But I do insist upon the competency of the narrative, until impeached, to prove, that all the individuals of our own rank in being—that is to say, all men—are derived from a single pair. Agassiz once encountered this testimony, by insisting, that Genesis must be considered as chiefly relating to the history of the white race, with special reference to the Jews.h But, having argued, that men originate in nations as bees originate in swarms, Agassiz must excuse us if we here impute to him a little want of candor. If he seriously holds, that all men originated in certain numeric propor- tions— might we not describe them as uncertain?—he cannot save the narrative in Genesis from conflict with his theory, by any such construction as he has attempted. Unless nationality may be discovered in a single pair — such nationality, I mean, as Agassiz contemplates — the narrative in Genesis, even if construed as pointing only to the Jews, must be rejected, if we are to take the theory presented by Agassiz. I insist on no severe construction of the record. I would have it read, in this connection, just as it would be construed by the forensic expert. How forensic ex- perts would construe it, I expect to show hereafter. It (h) Agassiz, quoted in the " Types," 79. 26 THE RECEIVED CONSTRUCTION. may be considered for the present simply as a history of Man, presented to a portion of the human race for a religious purpose. As such record, we are to regard it as importing verity, above all frittering and frivolous construction, and quite unquestionable, until directly im- peached, in so far as it relates to our descent from Adam; to establish that being, as I believe, the chief object of the earlier narrative in Genesis. I admit, of course, if science establish the falsity of the record in the particular, in which I characterize it as unquestionable, it cannot be sus- tained, and it ought not to be sustained. How, and by what species of reasoning the supposed revelation or inspi- ration of which the narrative is held to be the expression, may be shown to have no reality, I need not here inquire. For, I expect to show that the hostile theory which I am about to examine, so far from setting aside the narrative, confirms the faith it means to overthrow. At present, I only desire to say, that according to what seems to me the true construction of the narrative in Genesis, that narra- tive must be regarded as asserting that all mankind are derived from a single pair, and that to construe away this meaning of the narrative is wholly to destroy the narrative in all its parts. I may best vindicate this construction of the narrative, by pointing in the first place, to the fact, that it is the re- ceived construction; and by reminding the reader in the next place, that it is generally regarded as a vital one. To show that it is the received construction, I have only to direct attention to the terms in which Agassiz offers a quite opposite construction. For, he does not rely upon his own construction as a received one, but presents it as one of which he " would particularly insist upon the propriety."» But the learned Dr. Nott, having nailed to the mast " the broad banner of science," is quite explicit (i) Types, 79. IS IT VITAL? 27 on this point. He says, " it is really trifling with language to say that the Text does not distinctly convey the idea that all the creatures of our day have descended from the seed saved in the Ark."J Having thus ascertained what, indeed, is so notorious as not to need ascertainment, namely, that the received con- struction of the record we present is such as we have represented it, we now inquire, how does the received con- struction of this record stand related to essential doctrines of the Christian system ? All persons claiming to be Christians certainly do not assert, that mankind originated from a common stock. Not intending here to advocate the doctrines of any par- ticular church, I must not argue here, that the unity of human origin is a doctrine absolutely vital in the Christian system, and essential to it. But, without offence to any, I may here explain, that not by Catholics alone, but by the largest protestant bodies, the umtj of human origin is taught, as I have indicated, and that to catholicity, at least, the doctrine seems to stand in the relation of a vital part. " The Word of God," says one of the most emi- nent of living Catholics, " hath always considered man- kind as descended from one parent, and the great mystery of redemption rests upon the belief that all men sinned in their common father. Suppose different and unconnected creations of men, and the deep mystery of original sin, and the glorious mystery of redemption, are blotted out from religion's book." k If the construction of Genesis here relied on is received, and regarded as vital, I may surely here content myself with pointing in addition to the language construed. The words of Genesis, as every reader will know on merely (j) Types, 63. (k) Connex. between Science and Revealed Religion, I, 137. Mcehler's Sym- bolism, Book I, Part I, ch. 1, 2. 28 THE FAUNJE DOCTRINE. consulting his memory, will bear no other construction than the received one. To restrict the history to a part of mankind would be to destroy it. It would be no more itself, than Niagara would be Niagara without the water and the rocks. I conclude, then, that there is evidence, that all man- kind originated from a common stock. How is this evidence encountered, when we force our adversaries to admit, that, taken to be true, it proves what we continue to believe respecting human origin ? In the first place, our adversaries say, that our record is impeachable by evidence, establishing that all the animals below the rank of man must have been specially created in and for the zones or provinces in which we find them at the present day. Speaking only for myself, yet speaking, as I hope, with- in the liberty of scientific exegesis which all churches re- cognize, I must object to the attempted impeachment on the ground, that to prove what is thus asserted by our adversaries, will not contradict our record so as to affect its integrity. This objection I will waive for the present, recurring to it hereafter. I mention it now, to indicate the liberality with which I feel enabled to examine the evidence here offered to impeach our record. Agassiz tells us, that " natural combinations of animals circumscribed within definite boundaries are called fauna*, whatever be their home—land, sea, or river. Among the animals which compose the fauna of a country, we find types belonging exclusively there, and not occurring else- where ;..........others, which have only a small number of representatives which they specially characterize;...... and again others, which have a wider range." He recog- nizes the "grand divisions of the animal kingdom" as "primordial and independent of climate." But species, he says, are " intimately connected with the conditions of THE ARCTIC. 29 temperature, soil, and vegetation." He finds, in the arc- tic fauna, " a remarkable instance of this distribution of animals with reference to climate." This fauna, he informs us, " contains a great number of species common to the three continents converging towards the North Pole," and " presents a striking uniformity, when compared with the diversity of the temperature and tropical faunae of those same continents."1 "Though," he says, "the air-breathing species are not numerous here, the large number of individuals compen- sates for this deficiency, and among the marine animals we find an astonishing variety and profusion of forms. In this respect, the vegetable and animal kingdoms differ entirely from each other, and the measure by which we estimate the former is quite false as applied to the latter. Plants become stunted in their growth or disappear before the rigors'of the climate, while, on the contrary, all classes of the animal kingdom have representatives more or less numerous, in the arctic fauna. Neither can they be said to diminish in size under these influences; for, if the arctic representatives of certain classes, particularly the insects, are smaller than the analogous types in the tropics, we must not forget, on the other hand, that the whales and larger cetacea have here their most genial home, and make amends, by their more powerful structure, for the inferiority of other classes." m " The large mammalia which inhabit this zone are—the white bear, the walrus, numerous species of seal, the rein- deer, the musk ox, the narwal, the cachalot, and whales in abundance. Among the smaller species we may mention the white fox, the polar hare, and the lemming..... Some marine eagles, and wading birds in smaller number are found; but the aquatic birds of the family of palmi- pedes are those which especially prevail. The coasts of (1) Types of Mankind, lviii, lix. (m) lb. lx. 30 ADAPTEDNESS IN ANIMALS. the continents and of the numerous islands in the arctic seas are peopled by clouds of gannets, of cormorants, of penguins, of petrels, of ducks, of geese, of mergansers, and of gulls, some of which are as large as eagles, and like them, live on prey. No reptile is known in this zone. Fishes are, however, very numerous, and the rivers espe- cially swarm with a variety of species of the salmon family. A number of representatives of the inferior classes of worms, of Crustacea, of mollusks, of echinoderms, and of medusse, are also found here." n Agassiz accompanies his " Sketch " with a tableau—of which the first column " represents the types which best characterize this fauna; viz: the white or polar bear, the walrus, the seal of Greenland, the reindeer, the right whale, and the cider duck." ° On this description of the arctic fauna, I propose to make some observations. By the argument of our antagonists, it is asserted that the animals enclosed within this fauna must have been created in and for it. Why ? Are they so well adapted to the province, that their adaptedness proves that they must have been created for it ? What is the quality that most adapts an animal for arctic regions ? How is it— whatever it may be—discernible in the polar bear, the polar seal, the polar stag, the polar whale, the polar duck, or the walrus ? Does it reside in magnitude ? Is great size the test of adaptedness ? Why then is the reindeer smaller than the elk? Why is the polar insect more diminutive than the insect of the tropics ? Why are any of the arctic animals smaller than "analogous types" in other zones? But is diminutiveness the test? It may be so. Is not the Lap a dwarf and the Esquimaux a pigmy? But why, then, is the arctic whale so much of a whale? Why is not the reindeer smaller than (n) Types of Mankind, lxL Co) lb. lxii. WHAT IS ADAPTEDNESS? 31 the common stag? Why is not the white bear smaller than the common bear ? I conclude, that the size of an animal is not the test of its adaptedness to the zone in which wc may discover it—or that, if I am wrong in this, the arctic zone contains large numbers of animals not de- signed to inhabit it. Is color the test of adaptedness ? I have no doubt, that white is more distinctively arctic than black. We find in the arctic fauna white bears, white foxes—and why not white whales, white walruses, white reindeers, and above all, white Laps and Esquimaux ? If there is an arctic color, why are the arctic animals so various in color? Have they wandered into arctic provinces from zones more fa- vorable to their hues? "If the animals of the North," says Agassiz, " are less striking in external ornament—if their colors are less brilliant—yet we cannot say that they are more uniform, for though their tints are not so bright, they are none the less varied in their distribution and arrange- ment." p If animals originated in a common centre—say in Asia—and were thence distributed to arctic and to other zones, we may account for colors various yet faded, in the arctic plumage and the arctic furs. But if the arctic favors white, yet does not reject other colors, we cannot well account for the paling of the colors in the arctic ani- mals. Why were their colors such as needed paling? Color cannot be the test of the adaptedness of animals to their peculiar provinces—or if it is, the arctic zone includes large numbers of animals which were not designed to in- habit such a zone. And so I might proceed to speak of fur—of feathers— of the skin—and of the inner animal. No sensible man will attempt to say in what the peculiar local adaptedness of the animals of the arctic or other zones essentially con- sists. But if we cannot say in what the supposed adapt- (p) Types of Mankind, lx. 32 PROBABILITIES AND POSSIBILITIES. edness is to be found, are we authorized to say that it exists at all ? Doubtless, some of the animals found in the arctic are, as we should say in ordinary conversation, better adapted to it than others. The bear is better adapted to the arctic than the insect. The walrus is better adapted to the arc- tic than the Lap or the Esquimaux. But what becomes of the theory we are examining if this be so ? The ani- mals which seem but ill adapted to the place in which we find them, must have been designed for some more genial province. " The arctic representatives of certain classes, particularly the insects," being "smaller than the analo- gous types in the tropics," must have been designed for the tropics. Or, if the arctic representatives of the classes re- ferred to are of the standard size, the analogous types in the tropics may be too large, and may have been designed for the arctic. Or, if neither the arctic nor the tropical types alluded to seem well adapted to the province wherein we find them, they may have been designed for the tem- perate zone. On the other hand, the bear, the reindeer, the walrus, the whale, and the eider duck, appear to be at home in arctic regions. In the grand design of Provi- dence, the arctic may appear to be their destined place. But does it follow, that they were created in the arctic as well as for the arctic ? Is it less improbable, that by such means as we are yet unable to conceive, the animals allu- ded to proceeded to the arctic from the common centre of creation, than that among the animals designed for arctic regions some should be ill-adapted to their province ? Supposing that the animals, which in the arctic are in- ferior to their analogous types in other zones, are wander- ers from other zones into the arctic, what are we to think of that design, according to which they were created for a zone to which they do not appear to be confined ? Is it to be answered, that some animals are designed to wander MYSTERIES OF SCIENCE. 33 and some are designed to be fixed ? Why, then, are not the wanderers made capable of meeting all that arctic rigor or the heat of the tropics can present to them ? The Christian has a ready answer; but what answer have our adversaries? To the christian mind, all the deeper de- signs of God are simply wonderful, mysterious, inscrutable, except as revelation has assisted reason. But to " science " there is no inscrutable, no mysterious, no wonderful. It has the key to all the plans of God. It analyzes things divine and human. All is open to its vision—all is subject to its logic. Science, therefore, which attacks the myste- ries of faith, cannot allege a mystery of science, in proof that christian mysteries are mere delusions. Science tells us—God designed all things for certain places and for cer- tain uses. Science tells us—God most perfectly adapts all things to His design. Let Science, therefore, answer: Why did God, designing certain animals to wander, fail to make them equal to all changes to which their wander- ing must subject them? (And, if it be said, that the animals which we find in the arctic without apparent adaptedness to the regions in which we find them, violated nature in departing from their province, why shall we not say, that the Lap and the Esquimaux violated nature in seeking arctic homes ? This, parenthetically.) Such were the terms in which, when I first encountered Agassiz's theory of the geographical distribution of animals, I felt permitted, nay, required, to meet it. Nor, since I have encountered other presentations of the theory in question by the same learned theorist, have I felt permit- ted or required to make any considerable modification or correction of the language, in which I have indicated my rejection of the theory. Perhaps a closer study of Agas- siz's views might render it my duty to correct what I have submitted to the reader. But I have carefully read the 3 34 AGASSIZ'S VIEWS AGAIN. article contributed by the philosopher to the American Journal of Science and Arts, (Vol. 9, 369, New S.,) and the several chapters of his admirable "Contributions," which refer to this subject, without discovering the pro- priety of abandoning the position I have ventured to assume. Nothing can exceed the care with which Agassiz pro- ceeds to verify, or the emphasis with which he continues to repeat, that the physical influences under which animals and plants subsist cannot logically be considered as the cause of their diversitiy, since, 1. The most diversified types of animals are every where found under identical circumstances; and 2. " To maintain the contrary, would really amount to asserting that wherever a variety of or- ganized beings live together, no matter how great their diversity, the physical agents prevailing there, must have in their combined action, the power of producing such a diversity of structures as exist in animals, notwithstanding the close connection in which these animals stand to them, or to work out an intimate relation to themselves in be- ings, the essential characters of which have no reference to their nature. In other words," he says, " in all these ani- mals and plants, there is one side of their organization which has an immediate reference to the elements in which they live, and another which has no such connection, and yet it is precisely this part of the structure of animals and plants, which has no direct bearing upon the conditions in which they are placed in nature, which constitutes their essential, their typical character. This," he justly adds, "proves beyond the possibility of an objection, that the elements in which animals and plants live, (and under this expression I mean to include all that is commonly called physical agents, physical causes, etc.,) cannot in any way be considered as the cause of their existence." i Admit- (q) Contributions, 33. TYPES AND THEIR RELATIONS. 35 ting that the mediums in which animals live, and all physical agents at work in nature, have a certain influence upon organized beings, he nevertheless properly contends, that the physical influences alluded to cannot be regarded as more than modifying such diversities as, independently of the physical influences, and antecedently to their opera- tion, distinguished animals, one from another. Nothing, let me repeat, can exceed the emphasis with which he con- tends that, since the animals and plants living together in the same region are greatly diversified, it were simply absurd to contend that physical influences have produced the observed diversity. Identical types, he informs us, occur everywhere upon earth under the most diversified circumstances. " If," he says, " we sum up all these various influences and conditions of existence, under the common appellation of cosmic influences, or of phys- ical causes, or of climate in the widest sense of the word, and then look around us for the extreme dif- ferences in that respect upon the whole surface of the globe, we still find the most similar, nay, identical types (and I allude here, under the expression of types, to the most diversified acceptations of the word) living normally under their action. There is no structural difference be- tween the herrings of the Arctic, or those of the Temper- ate Zone, or those of the Tropics, or those of the Antarctic regions; there are not any more between the foxes and wolves of the most distant parts of the globe. Moreover, if there were any, and if the specific differences existing between them were insisted upon, could any relation be- tween these differences and the cosmic influences under which they live be pointed out, which would at the same time account for the independence of their structure in general ? Or, in other words, how could it be assumed that while these causes would produce specific differences, they would at the same time produce generic identity, 36 LOGIC OF AGASSIZ. ordinal identity, class identity, typical identity ? Identity in every thing that is truly important, high, and compli- cated in the structure of animals, produced by the most diversified influences, while at the same time these extreme physical differences, considered as the cause of the exist- ence of these animals, would produce diversity in second- ary relations only. What logic!"r In the presence of these important teachings and this interesting argument, it is in vain that the philosopher calls our attention to such facts as that there is a definite relation between the size and structure of animals; that each type shows decided relations, within its own limits, to the elements of nature; that the aquatic Mammalia, as a whole, are larger than the terrestrial ones; that so are the aquatic Birds and the aquatic Reptiles; that in fami- lies which are essentially terrestrial, the species which take to the water are generally larger than those which remain permanently terrestrial; that the same relation is observed in the different families of Insects, which number aquatic and terrestrial species; and that " it is further remarkable, that among aquatic animals, the fresh water types are in- ferior in size to the marine ones."s It is equally in vain, that, without attempting even to show in what the sec- ondary relation of animals to their geographical distribution essentially consists, or how their relations are so necessary as to be evidently designed by the plan of creation, the philosopher insists, with repetition and with emphasis, that " every animal and plant stands in certain definite relations to the surrounding world."' Once informed that the physical influences to which the Polar Bear is subject cannot be regarded as sufficient to produce it, we may well inquire, are they sufficient to account for its presence in the Arctic ? Once informed, that " what con- stitutes the Bear in the Polar Bear, is not its adaptation (r) Contributions, 16-17. (s) lb. 49. (t) lb. 57. THE YET UNWRITTEN BOOK. 37 to an aquatic mode of existence," u and that, like other animals, the Polar Bear has one side of organization, im- mediately referring to the elements in which it lives, and another which has no such connection; we may well in- quire, was the side of its organization referring to the conditions of life in the Arctic, designed and necessary, or is it accidental, and due to altered habits in the animal? And we cannot regard ourselves as answered, when in- formed, that " a book has yet to be written upon the independence of organized beings of physical causes, as most of what is generally ascribed to the influence of physical agents upon organized beings ought to be consid- ered as a connection established between them in the gen- eral plan of creation."v For, until the writing of that book, we may still feel at liberty to doubt whether the great comparative size of some Arctic animals, for instance, and the comparative diminutiveness of other Arctic animals, as well as the diversity of colors perceived in Arctic animals, " ought to be considered as a connection established be- tween them" and Arctic physical conditions, "in the general plan of creation," or as due to altered habits and a changed " habitat," in animals created in other zones and originally inhabiting quite different regions.* (u) Contributions, 50. (v) lb. 17. (w) I have not overlooked the arguments of Agassiz derived from the observed community of structure among animals living in the same regions. Whatever force may be apparent in such arguments, when we attend only to what is ob- served in particular zones and provinces, we cannot concede to it any formida- ble force, when we consider the absence of any such community of structure in other zones and provinces. Indeed, I do not understand Agassiz himself as attaching much importance to the arguments in question. I would add, that what Agassiz presents on the subject of the Immutability of Species, seems to me quite inconclusive as an argument in favor of the theory I am endeavoring to show cause tor rejecting, however valuable it may be with respect to the im- mediate purpose of Agassiz in presenting it. CHAPTER m. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. BUT now I ask the leave of the learned and the pious to maintain, that, even if the evidence presented should require us to conclude, that all the types of animals below the rank of Man were created in and for the zones or provinces in which we find them now, the narrative in Genesis would be quite unimpeached by the showing sup- posed to overthrow it. I ask leave, because I know that I cannot so maintain, without seeming, at first view, disposed to concede too much to science, and disposed to approach too boldly to the work of construing the inspired Word. I am not disposed to concede too much to science. But there should be allowed to science all the room, and light, and heat, which normal scientific growth requires. And I feel disposed to admit, presently, a probability, which suggests the propriety of leaving science free to prove, that there were several centres of creation for the lower animals. Nor am I disposed to approach with boldness, the task of construing the inspired word. Attacks are made on that word from every quarter and of every description. I propose to show that some supposed demonstrations of its falsity, do not approach its vital parts. This I can only do, in the given instance, by ascertaining what portion of RETURN TO GENESIS. 39 the narrative in Genesis may be regarded as importing absolute and literal verity, and what portion thereof, if any, is to be subjected to the full exercise of exegetical liberty; and by proceeding to such construction of what- ever is open to construction, as will vindicate the narrative in its real integrity. For the purpose of introducing the constructions on which I shall attempt to prove my right to insist, as well as with simple reference to homaging the truth, I admit that, without reference to the narrative in Genesis, the 'probability would be, that certain arctic animals were spe- cially created in the arctic for the arctic. On the other hand, I must insist, that, equally without reference to the narrative in Genesis, the probability would be, that certain animals now found in the arctic, were created in other zones for other zones. Can these two probabilities be reconciled with the Mo- saic narrative ? They are in harmony with each other— are they in harmony with Genesis ? To attempt to ascertain the true construction of the narrative in Genesis, without paying any attention to the question, what portion of the narrative has been construed with reference to matters of christian faith as well as with reference to the purposes of scientific exegesis, would be disrespectful to religious sentiment and otherwise objec- tionable. Always under the correction of the learned, I purpose, therefore, to insist, that Christianity has never taught, as of faith, that Genesis must be construed to make Asia a common point of origin for all the animals below the rank of man. Under the same correction, I propose to show, that the true canon of interpretation will not so construe the narrative in question, as to make it mean, that Asia was the common point of origin for all the lower animals. That Christianity has taught, as of faith, that the narra- 40 EXEGESIS. tive in Genesis is true, in all parts of its meaning, and to the full extent of its significance, I may admit without affecting what I undertake to prove. But I do not find that Christianity has ever taught, as of faith, that the meaning of the sacred narrative, or its true significance, requires us to believe, that all the animals below the rank of man were created where man was created, and were thence distributed to provinces in which we find them at the present day. I would not be understood to deny, that christian teach- ers, christian preachers, christian writings, christian con- versation, have asserted as the meaning of the narrative in Genesis, that Asia was the common point of origin for all the animals below the rank of man. It must not be forgotten, however, by the Catholic, who honors me with his attention, that a vast amount of con- struction of the sacred writings has been made on grounds for which the Church has never held herself responsible, and in respect to which she has conceded the liberty of scientific exegesis. " The interpretation of the Church does not," says Moehler,a " descend to the details, which must claim the attention of the scientific exegetist. Thus, for example, it does not hold it for a duty, nor include it in the compass of its rights, to determine when, by whom, and for what object the Book of Job was written; or what particular inducement engaged St. John to publish his gospel, or the Apostle Paul to address an epistle to the Romans; in what order of time the epistles of this mes- senger of the Lord followed each other, etc., etc. As little doth the church explain particular words and verses, their bearings one to the other, or the connection existing be- tween larger portions of a sacred book. Antiquities, in the widest sense of the word, fall not within the domain of her interpretation; in short, that interpretation extends (a) Symbolism, 366. mcehler's view. 41 only to doctrines of faith and morals. This much as to the extent of her interpretation." " But now," he continues, " as to the nature and mode of the Church's interpretation ; this is not conducted ac- cording to the rules and well-known aids of an historical and grammatical exegesis, whereby the individual seeks to obtain scientific insight into the sense of Holy Writ. On the contrary, the doctrinal contents of Scripture she desig- nates in the general spirit of Scripture. Hence, the earli- est oecumenical councils did not even adduce any particular scriptural texts in support of their dogmatic decrees; and Catholic theologians teach with general concurrence, and quite in the spirit of the Church, that even a Scriptural proof in favor of a decree held to be infallible, is not itself infallible, but only the dogma as defined. The deepest reason for this conduct of the Church, lies in the indispu- table truth, that she was not founded by Holy Writ, but already existed before its several parts appeared. The certainty which she has of the truth of her own doctrines, is an immediate one, for she received her dogmas from the lips of Christ and the apostles; and by the power of the Divine Spirit, they are indelibly stamped on her conscious- ness, or, as Irenseus expresses it, on her heart." On the consciousness of the Church, on the heart of the Church, we cannot suppose to have been stamped such a doctrine as that all the lower animals originated at a sin- gle point, and in one creation. Never was the christian mind concerned with such a doctrine. Scientific exegesis of the scripture may have concerned itself with the ques- tion, whether, according to Genesis, all animals originated at the point where man himself originated, but the Church did surely never so concern herself. No heresy directed her attention to such a question. No doctrine, which, even without the motive of defending truth against heretical opinions, she ever defined, included the construction of the 42 RULE OF LUTHER, ZUINGLIUS, CALVIN. narrative in Genesis, so far as it relates to animals below the rank of man. With man, with human history, with human duty, and with human destiny, was she concerned. Having thus shown the rule of interpretation in the Catholic church, I must proceed to show how Protestants have looked upon the narrative in Genesis. Moehler says of Luther: " They are far from duly ap- preciating Luther's views and spirit, who imagine that he absolutely believed that he could discover the true sense of scripture by an historico-grammatical interpretation. Nothing was more alien to him—nothing more at variance with his whole system: the very notion, that by human exertions we can win and appropriate to ourselves the knowledge of divine things, he held to be the acme of un- godliness. Learned interpretation was by no means his method for discovering the sense of the Bible, but only for obtaining for himself and others, an exegetical explication of the sense, engendered in man by the immediate and exclusive operation of the Deity." . . . The opinion of Luther and Zuinglius is further stated by the same writer, as follows: " God, by his own interior word of power, working with human co-operation, hath implanted his doctrine within us through the vehicle of the Sacred Scrip- tures. According to this interior word, whose working forms the christian consciousness, the outward word must, in its details, be thus explained." b What Calvin taught in this respect I do not know, ex- cept that I understand he, like Luther, " makes belief in the divinity of the Scriptures depend on the testimony of the Holy Spirit in the interior man." ° But let us see how modern Protestant theologians have written on this subject. "We may not stop," says Archbishop Whately,d "to (b) Symbolism, 386-387. (c) lb. 414. (d) Introduc. and Prelim. Dissert. Encyc. Brit. whately's rule. 43 discuss the various objections (some of them more or less plausible, and others very weak) that have been brought —on grounds of science, or supposed science—against the Mosaic accounts of the creation, of the state of the early world, and of the flood, and to bring forward the several answers that have been given to those objections. But it is important to lay down the principle on which either the Bible, or any other writing or speech ought to be studied and understood, viz, with a reference to the object proposed by the writer or speaker." " For example," he continues, " if we bid any one pro- ceed in a straight line from one place to another, and to take care to arrive before the sun goes down, he will rightly and fully understand us, in reference to the prac- tical object which alone we had in view. Now, we know that there cannot really be a straight line on the surface of the earth; and that the sun does not really go down, only our portion of the earth is turned away from it. But whether the other party knows all this or not, matters nothing to our present object; which was not to teach him mathematics or astronomy, but to make him conform to our directions, which are equally intelligible to the learned and the unlearned." " Now," he proceeds, " the object of the Scripture reve- lation is to teach men, not astronomy or geology, or any other physical science, but Religion. Its design was to inform men, not in what manner the world was made, but ivho made it; and to lead them to worship Him, the Crea- tor of the heavens and the earth, instead of worshiping his creatures, the heavens and earth themselves, as gods; which is what the ancient heathens actually did. " Although, therefore," concludes Archbishop Whately, " Scripture gives very scanty and imperfect information respecting the earth and the heavenly bodies, and speaks of them in the language and according to the notions of 44 Wiseman's rule. the people of a rude age, still it fully effects the object for which it was given, when it teaches that the heavens and the earth are not gods to be worshiped, but that lGod created the heavens and the earth,' and that it is He who made the various tribes of animals, and also Man. But as for astronomy and geology and other sciences, men were left, when once sufficiently civilized to be capable of improving themselves, to make discoveries in them by the exercise of their own faculties." It will be observed, that Archbishop Whately not only recognizes the propriety of a scientific exegesis of Genesis, but lays down the rule to be observed in such exegesis of the Scriptural narrative. I am unable to find in any Catholic work in my collection, so distinct a statement of the principle, with reference to which the Scriptures are to be construed, in exegetical investigation. But the rule of Archbishop Whately I consider as the rule which Chris- tian exegetical writers, of whatever school, have in general observed. This is a point of so much consequence, that I must be allowed to illustrate it yet a little more. One of the most eminent Catholic writers of the present day is the author of a work on the Connection between Science and Revealed Religion. He has argued for the unity of human origin, with learning and ability which few could bring to such a task. He constantly insists on the received construction of the narrative in Genesis, al- most in every particular. We can see, that if he had laid down the rule of exegetical construction of the Scriptures, he would have done so far more cautiously than Arch- bishop Whately has laid it down. He would, in connec- tion with the laying down of such a rule, have warned his readers, that it is vital to Catholic Christianity, that Adam was the father of all men. He would have warned his readers to beware of all construction, which could touch THE FORENSIC RULE. 45 the doctrine of original sin, of nature, and of grace. He would have warned his readers against all constructions of the scripture, which could clash with the authoritative reading of the sacred text by its infallible interpreter, and by patristic exegesis. He would have argued the necessity of an infallible interpreter, as shown by the very necessity of such construction, and of limitations to the latter. But, however this might have been, had his Eminence discussed the question as Archbishop Whately has discussed it, we have only to observe at present, that he has, while holding the unity of origin of human nature as a vital christian tenet, treated some constructions of the Bible, not proceed- ing from the Church, yet departing from received construc- tions, as allowable. Of course, I do not mean to intimate that Cardinal Wiseman or any other Catholic ecclesiastic would allow validity to any private interpretation of the scripture, in respect to matters of faith, unless in harmony with what the Church itself has taught. But I do mean to say, that the Cardinal apparently regards as not of faith some generally received constructions of the sacred text, and entertains such new construtions, as, not clashing with the doctrines of the Church, are recommended, in the in- terest of science, by a fair and candid spirit of inquiry and of criticism. Assuming, however, that Archbishop Whately's rule substantially agrees with the Catholic canon of interpreta- tion in respect of scientific exegesis, I must now explain that the forensic canon of construction is in harmony with such a rule. The narrative of a witness is, indeed, often rejected, be- cause, in what is merely incidental to the main design of his testimony, he departs from probability. But, unless on cross-examination, he has been enabled to direct his mind to this portion of his testimony with a greater attention than he would have given to it if not cross- 46 FORENSIC CONSTRUCTION OF GENESIS. examined, the construction of the merely incidental in his testimony will be far more liberal than the construction of what therein relates more closely to the merits of the con- troversy between the parties to the cause. And even if, on cross-examination, he is not enabled to give an air of probability to what he says of incidental matters, he may still escape all hostile criticism. For, all advocates and jurists know, the memory is often responsive only to de- mands, of which she recognizes the importance. Hence, no indictment for perjury can be maintained on testimony which was immaterial. Considering the narrative in Genesis in a forensic light, we must regard it as the testimony of a witness not cross- examined. We must, until the witness is impeached, consider what he says as true. The attempted impeach- ment must be subject to the rule, that what the witness says as merely incidental to the purpose of his narrative, is to be construed with less severity, less rigor, less literal- ness, than what constitutes, or closely connects itself with the thread of his narration. Construing Genesis with reference to such a rule, I cannot look upon the narrative as having a more than incidental concern with animals below the rank of Man. So construing the sacred narrative, I cannot look upon it as forbidding science to establish, if it can establish, the probability, that there may have been several centres of creation for the lower animals. So construing the record, I cannot regard it as impeached by evidence, that the animals saved by Noah in the ark were only a portion of the animals now discoverable on the earth, as we at present know the earth; that there were other animals created after the deluge; or even that the deluge, though a universal one in the sense of universal as applied to the earth then known, did not visit some of the zoological provinces. LATENT AMBIGUITIES. 47 Suppose, in other words, that science raises a vehement probability that the animals below the rank of man were created in several centres of creation. That will not tend to contradict the record. For the record does not tell us that there was a single centre of creation for the lower animals. But suppose that science shall go further, and present a probability equally vehement with the former, that all the animals now found distributed over the surface of the earth cannot be connected with the seed saved by Noah in the ark. Will science then and thus necessarily contradict our record? I think not. It will establish, that there is what lawyers call a latent ambiguity in the use by the record of certain words, such as the word " earth," for instance; but it will not necessarily contradict, much less will it impeach, the sacred narrative. It may be objected, that it is perilous to allow science thus to raise the presumption of a latent ambiguity, as to the use in our record, of words apparently importing the destruction of all the lower animals, and of language which has long been understood to mean that the flood was absolutely universal. But it is only perilous as all construction of the sacred narrative is perilous. It is only perilous as all exegesis of the Scripture may be perilous. If private judgment, as the Protestant asserts; if an infal- lible interpreter, as Catholics believe, continues competent to separate the vital and the inconstruable from what is matter of indifference and matter of construction, no con- struction such as that I offer can alarm the pious, or impose even upon the unlearned. It is because I recognize the scientific probability that there were several centres of creation for the lower ani- mals ; it is because I can discern no religious value in the doctrine that there was but one centre of creation and distribution for those animals; that I desire to leave free scope for scientific exegesis of the Bible in this particular. 48 THE READING OF THE RECORD. It is not because I fail to see the vitality, the beauty, or the certainty of the doctrine, that in Adam we must recognize the father of the human brotherhood. I trust I have established, that I am at liberty, if appar- ently warranted by a fair exegesis of Genesis, to construe that narrative as I shall proceed to construe it. It remains to show the process of the exegetical investigation, to which I have resorted, and thus to vindicate the record from the attempted scientific impeachment now in ques- tion. After God had said: " Let the waters bring forth the creeping creature having life, and the fowl that may fly over the earth under the firmament of heaven;" after He had " created the great whales, and every living and moving creature, which the waters brought forth, ac- cording to their kinds, every winged fowl according to its kind;" He "blessed them, saying: Increase and multiply, and fill the waters of the sea; and let the birds be multiplied upon the earth."e And, on the next day, " God said : Let the earth bring forth the living crea- ture in its kind, cattle, and creeping things, and beasts of the earth according to their kinds." f Whatever indica- tion we may find in this language that all animals below the rank of man were created in pairs, the language does not indicate that Asia was a common point of origin for the animals below the rank of man. If we are compelled to read with literal precision, that " the Lord God having formed out of the ground all the beasts of the earth, and all the fowls of the air, brought them to Adam," & we are not compelled to suppose that any of the marine animals were thus brought before Adam. And, when we compare the language of verse 19 of the second chapter of Genesis with verses 20 and 21 of the first chapter of the same, we find a variance as to the origin of the " fowls of the air." (e) Genesis, i, 20, 21, 22. (f) lb. 24. (g) lb. ij, 19. THE DELUGE—WAS IT UNIVERSAL? 49 Iii the first chapter of Genesis, the waters bring forth the " winged fowl." In the second chapter of Genesis, God forms out of the earth " the fowls of the air." This vari- ance, taken together with whatever astronomical or other science has really detracted from the literal accuracy of the two chapters referred to, leads me to suppose, that the theological construction of the Bible, in this particular, would much resemble the forensic. It is certain, that the history of lower animals and of all nature external to humanity, is only incidentally involved in what the Bible teaches us of man. It is certain that the history of man is only so far given in the Bible as religious purposes re- quired such a history. It is equally certain that the true construction of the narrative must emphasise what is in- cluded in the purpose of the narrative, and that construc- tion will abuse the narrative if it should emphasise what is but incidental to that purpose. How can it be a part of the purpose to which I have alluded, to inform mankind that all the habitable earth was visited by the deluge ? How can it be a part of that purpose to inform mankind, that all the animals of earth, as earth is known to us, were destroyed by the waters of the deluge, except as seed was saved with Noah in the ark? Why should we have had a revelation touching animals, their origin, and their distribution, and yet have had no revelation anticipating the discovery of Columbus ? WTiy should we have had a revelation in zoology, and none in astronomy or in geology ? It seems to me, we may consider that the deluge, though it visited all the earth then known, or then inhabited, and there destroyed all men and animals not saved in the ark, did not in truth visit arctic zones, or other regions then not visited by man. To maintain this view, it is only necessary to be careful in our reading and comparison of the following passages: " And God seeing that the wickedness of men was great 4 50 THE LANGUAGE OF THE TEXT. on the earth, and that all the thought of their heart was bent upon evil at all times, it repented him that he had made man on the earth. And being touched inwardly with sorrow of heart, He said: I will destroy man, whom I have created, from the face of the earth, from man even to beasts, from the creeping things even to the fowls of the air, for it repenteth me that I have made them. But Noe found grace before the Lord."h "And the earth was corrupted before God, and was filled with iniquity. And when God had seen that the earth was corrupted (for all flesh had corrupted its way upon the earth), He said to Noe: The end of all flesh is come before me, the earth is filled with iniquity through them, and I will destroy them with the earth." And again: " Behold I will bring the waters of a great flood upon the earth, to destroy all flesh, wherein is the breath of life under heaven. All things that are in the earth shall be consumed. And I will es- tablish my covenant with thee, and thou shalt enter into the ark, thou and thy sons, and thy wife, and the wives of thy sons with thee. And of every living creature of all flesh, thou shalt bring two of a sort into the ark, that they may live with thee; of the male sex and the female: Of fowls according to their kind, and of beasts in their kind, and of everything that creepeth on the earth according to its kind: two of every sort shall go in with thee, that they may live. Thou shalt take unto thee of all food that may be eaten, and thou shalt lay it up with thee; and it shall be food for thee and them. And Noe did all things which God commanded him."* " And the Lord said to him : Go in, thou and all thy house into the ark: for thee I have seen just before me in this generation. Of all clean beasts take seven and seven, the male and the female. But of the beasts that are unclean two and two, the male and the female. Of the fowls also of the air seven and (h) Gen. vi, 5, 6, 7, 8. (i) lb., 11 to 14, and 17 to 22. FORENSIC RULES AGAIN. 51 seven, the male and the female: that seed may be saved upon the face of the whole earth. For yet a while, and after seven days, I will rain upon the earth forty days and forty nights: and I will destroy every substance that I have made from the face of the earth." " And Noe went in .... And of beasts clean and unclean, and of fowls, and of every thing that moveth upon the earth. .. And after the seven days were passed, the waters of the flood overflowed the earth..... In the self-same day Noe, and Sem, and Cham, and Japheth, his sons; his wife, and the three wives of his sons with them, went into the ark: They and every beast according to its kind, and all the cattle in their kind, and every thing that moveth upon the earth according to its kind, and every fowl according to its kind, all birds, and all that fly, went in to Noe into the ark, two and two of all flesh, wherein was the breath of life. And they that went in, went in male and female of all flesh. .. . And the waters increased. .. For they overflowed exceedingly, and filled all on the face of the earth. .. And the waters prevailed beyond measure upon the earth: and all the high mountains under the whole heaven were covered....... And all flesh was destroyed that moved upon the earth, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of beasts, and of all creeping things that creep upon the earth: and all men. And all things wherein there is the breath of life on the earth, died. And he destroyed all the substance that was upon the earth, from man even to beast, and the creeping things and fowls of the air: and they were destroyed from the earth: and Noe only remained, and they that were with him in the ark."j The reader least familiar with forensic or other rules of construction, cannot fail to notice, that it was the wicked- ness of man, which, if I may so express my thought, moved God to think of man's destruction. It was man's (j) Gen. vii. 52 THE THOUGHT OF GOD. corruption which corrupted all the lower life upon the earth. How the corruption of the lower life was connected with that of human nature, and in what the lower life was in fact corrupted, we are not informed. That the animals which lived in the waters were not included in the sentence of destruction, is apparent. Why they were not so included, we are not informed. Was it merely be- cause their destruction could not be effected by the means provided for destroying man and the lower animals in- habiting "the earth?" No, surely. God might have destroyed all life, if God had willed that all should be destroyed. Again: If man's corruption caused corruption of the birds, how did the dwellers of the sea escape cor- ruption ? Are we not to read the passages before us rather with reference to the design of God, than with a literal, precise, inflexible construction of each word ? May we not reverently trace from word to word of what we read, the thought of God, distinguishing from it the thought, and modes of thought, of man ? If we may, it seems to me, the reading of these passages is easy. Let us essay it. Thus: The wickedness of man involved to some extent a breach of the relation between man and all the lower life, with which his life contacted. The breach of this relation broke the order of the lower life as well as that of human life. All flesh connected with the human modes of life in this corrupt condition of- the latter, shared the morbid and abnormal character of human life. When the corruption of this human life determined the Divine displeasure to destroy the life of man, all life corrupted by its contact with the life of man must share the fate of human life. But as one human family was saved, by reason of one man's continued obedience to the laws of God, so some parts of lower life, selected from the whole of lower life, were saved to be the meat, and to contribute to the use and pleasure, of the family preserved, and of their de- GEOGRAPHY OF GENESIS. 53 scendants. The life of man did not so come into contact with the life of the marine animals as to affect the latter, with man's breach of what we call the laws of nature. Therefore, the marine animals were not included in the sentence of destruction. Now, did the life of man contact with all the life of lower animals, distinguished as terres- trial ? Were men so multiplied at the date of the deluge as to have taken possession of all the earth ? Was all the earth, as we now know it, covered by the waters of the deluge? What was " the earth" referred to in the sacred writings ? Was it not the earth as known, explored, in- habited, when Moses wrote of it ? Did it include an entire zone—did its boundaries extend to the farthest Eastern or the farthest Western shores—to the most northern North or the most southern South ? The reader will observe, that I do not deny that the deluge may have visited earth's remotest boundaries, as earth is known to us to-day. He will be pleased to bear in mind, that I do not deny that all the life of earth may have been destroyed, except as life was saved in Noah and with him. He will not imagine, that I dare to limit the Divine Omnipotence, or to revise the plan of God's crea- tion or regeneration of the life of earth. All I desire is to construe the record, to which Christianity attaches so much veneration, in such a manner that science may have all the freedom of inquiry, which does not detract from what is sacred in the sacred text. In so construing that record, I have no desire to compromise with science, or admit away the doctrines vital in the christian system. Man's history, so far as it is given in immediate connection with the doctrine of primeval innocence,—the doctrine " Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world and all our wo, With loss of Eden," 54 ANOTHER THEORY. —and the doctrine of redemption through the Son of God,—I would not venture to construe in any thing. It is above, beyond, construction. But I cannot so regard the biblical account of man or animals without the sacred circle of the vital doctrine. Whatever is wedded to what is expressive of that vital doctrine, I would hold to be the purpose, the design, the meaning of the narrative of Genesis. If such construction be permissible, and the results I have supposed to result from it be questionable, I desire to bring before the reader yet another theory. To this as to the former, I am quite unwedded. But it seems to me a theory as reasonable as the theories which we encounter as the adversaries of the truth of christian doctrine. It may be thus stated: If the language of the sacred text compels us to construe it as informing us, in terms com- pelling us to treat the information as material and unde- niable, that all the animals not native to the sea, and not preserved with Noah in the ark, were destroyed by the deluge, we are still at liberty to hold, that after the deluge there may have been special creations of the lower animals, for certain zones and provinces. Applying to the con- struction of the Bible such a rule of construction as I have attempted to apply to it, such a theory will be entirely free from conflict with the sacred text CHAPTER IV. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. OUR record, then, is not impeachable by scientific dem- onstration, that all the lower animals did not originate in Asia. As little, if I am not wrong in my construction of the record, can it be impeached by astronomical, or chronological, or geological demonstrations, save as some geologists have started certain theories, concerning sup- posed human fossils. I may speak of the latter hereafter. We come, then, to the more direct attempt to impeach our record, which is made by the Ethnographers, who furnish us the facts concerning the geographical distribu- tion of the lower animals. Ethnology itself deserves a passing notice, ere we enter on the task of showing how its cultivators have despised the common faith of Christen- dom, and almost deified their own unwarranted deductions. It seems, that " Mr. Luke Burke, the bold and able editor of the London Ethnological Journal, defines Ethnology to be * a science which investigates the mental and physical differences of Mankind, and the organic laws on which they depend; and which seeks to deduce from these in- vestigations principles of human guidance, in all the important relations of social existence.'" It is plain enough, therefore, that if Ethnology be all Ethnology pretends to be, its "bold and able" advocates are preach- ers of a gospel which may take the place of Christianity. 56 FAITH AND SCIENCE NOT UNFRIENDLY. Ethnology is modest. So it ought to be. For it is young —" born, we may say, within our own generation," says Dr. Nott.a The learned Nott has thumped the pulpit, in which he preaches the new gospel, with a vigor reminiscent of the anecdotes of clerical vehemence. " On former occasions," he informs us, " and in the most respectful manner, we had attempted to conciliate sectarians, and to reconcile the plain teachings of science with theological prejudices; but to no useful purpose. In return, our opinions and motives have been misrepresented and vilified by self- constituted teachers of the Christian religion! We have, in consequence, now done with all this; and no longer have any apologies to offer, nor favors of lenient criticism to ask. The broad banner of science is herein nailed to the mast. Even in our own brief day, we have beheld one flimsy religious dogma after another consigned to oblivion, while science, on the other hand, has been gaining strength and majesty with time." b We could afford to smile at this raving, if it did not sound so much like mere irreverence, and if it did not attempt to make antagonism between faith and science. Science, that is, real science, cannot be opposed to faith. Faith, that is, the faith of Christians, cannot be opposed to science. The highest part of science is but faith; the highest part of faith is as much science as the lowest part of man's belief. If flimsy dogmas of pretended faith are daily passing into oblivion, flimsy sciences are constantly committing suicide. If science gains, from year to year, new strength and majesty, it only ministers to faith with all its strength—it only gives to faith the homage of all its majesty. But let us hear the novel demonstration, that the uni- tarian doctrine of the origin of man is but a flimsy dogma. (») Types, 50. (b) lb. 61. ANOTHER SHOT AT GENESIS. 57 We are told, that the coincidence between the circum- scription of the races of man and the natural limits of different zoological provinces characterized by distinct species of animals, is such as to establish, even as against the record offered — 1. That the adaptation of different races of men to different parts of the world must be inten- tional, as well as that of other beings. 2. That men were primitively located in the various parts of the world they inhabit, and that they arose every where in those harmo- nious numeric proportions with other living beings, which would at once secure their preservation and contribute to their welfare; or, in other words: 3. That zoologically, the races or species of mankind obey the same organic laws which govern other animals: they have their geo- graphical points of origin, and are adapted to certain external conditions that cannot be changed with impu- nity.0 The first question, therefore, which we are compelled to examine, is : What evidence have we that any race of man is circumscribed within the limits of any zoological prov- ince ? Next, we may inquire : If any race appear so cir- cumscribed, what is the nature of the coincidence between its circumscription and the limits of the circumscription which confines the lower animals of the same province ? Let us once more scrutinize the arctic fauna as described by Agassiz. It extends to the utmost limits of the cold and barren North. It is most strikingly characterized by the uniform distribution of its animals. Its aspects are the same in three parts of the world which converge to- ward the North Pole. Though its air-breathing species of animals are not numerous, its large number of indi- viduals compensates for this deficiency. Among its marine animals, we find an astonishing profusion and variety of (c) Types, 78, 79. 58 ARCTIC MAN. forms. All classes of the animal kingdom have represent- atives, more or less numerous, in its fauna. The white or polar bear, the walrus, the seal of Green- land, the reindeer, the right whale, and the eider duck, are represented as the types which characterize best this fauna. Each of these is large. What rank in this respect the arctic bear deserves is quite familiar to the reader. Walruses are no mere playthings. Greenland seals are quite respectable for magnitude. The elk alone—himself a northerner—outranks the reindeer in the stag department of mammalian life. The arctic whale hides no diminished head when other whales are mentioned. Eider ducks com- pare quite favorably with the ducks of other zones. In presence of these arctic magnates, what a sorry figure is presented by the men known as Esquimaux, Lapland- ers, Samojedes, and Tchuktshes! Like the insects of the arctic, and like certain other forms of animal existence there, the arctic men shrink into insignificance when we compare them with the answering types of other zones. Whence is this difference ? If arctic man was from the first designed for Hyperborean experience, and destined to perpetual confinement in his frozen prison, why is he a pigmy ? Why is he a pigmy while the whale, the bear and the reindeer, Greenland seals and eider ducks, rejoice in magnitude ? Why is he a shapeless pigmy, while the glacial stag, the equal of the common stag in size, trans- cends him in strength and usefulness ? Why is arctic man deprived of strength, and dignity, and grace, in presence of the animals below his zoologic rank ? Finding the arctic insect so diminutive, and ascertain- ing other animals, which are not known exclusively in arctic regions, to be smaller than the types analogous to them in tropical and other zones, we find some light for this inquiry, and we ascertain some facts of deep signific- ance. A CONJECTURE. 59 Take the case of Esquimaux, and that of arctic insect, into view. Was what we recognize in Esquimaux or insect as the type of the one or of the other, certainly original, primor- dial ? Or is it quite as scientific to suppose, that altered states of man and insect have here altered types of insect and of man ? Let us theorize a little, taking, for our warrant, just the facts, which our opponents use as warrant for their hostile theory. Wandering from regions where man sees a glimpse of physical perfection in his features and his form, to arctic rigors and privations, man surrendered to the glacial life his fair proportions, size, and strength, of body and of mind. The individuals, who thus proceeded from more genial climes to the realms of ice, did not, however pliable their bodies may have been, at once endeavor, like a Franklin or a Kane, to penetrate the arctic mysteries and to en- counter all the arctic perils. Step by step was their advance. And, step by step, they more and more pre- pared themselves for Esquimaux experience, and step by step reduced themselves to what we see in Esquimaux to- day. If it be true, indeed, that we cannot entice the Hyper- borean from norland rigors and privations, it may seem, that in his want of " pliability," we find an indication of the asserted coincidence between the circumscription of the arctic fauna, and the range of arctic human life. But in this very want of pliability resides the mystery yet un- explained by learned theorists, assailing the received account of man's creation and his fall. Was it original ? Or is it due to such migration as I have supposed, and to the subsequent experience of arctic life ? Does ethnolog- ical or other science answer ? 60 WEAKNESS OF ETHNOLOGY. It attempts, perhaps, to answer, but it does not answer. For, it does not know. It cannot decently pretend, that what it has asserted, touching the original adaptedness of Hyperborean stature, hue, and other physical peculiarities, to the peculiarities of Hyperborean climate, soil, produc- tions, and inevitable modes of life, rests even on a clear, consistent theory. It dare not say, that in the presence of the arctic ice- bergs, of the huge inhabitants of arctic seas, and of the larger animals which roam the arctic shores, man is di- minutive that he may be adapted to the region where he lives. This were so plain a begging of the question, that not even ethnological science would assume it; and to prove it is impossible. It is improbable when it is stated. Man, the wanderer, not so acquainted with the regions into which he ventured as to guard himself against its rigors, may have sacrificed to his adventurous departure from more genial climes the dignity of mien and grace of form by which he had been marked in other regions. But we can conceive no reason why the Esquimaux should be a pigmy, if his type is one of those aboriginal, primordial forms, which indicate diversity of origin in human nature. And, I think, for reasons already hinted, ethnology will never venture to rely on color as the character in which we see the supposed adaptedness. Nor will it join to color size and shape, and find in color, size and shape combined, the correspondence sought. What correspondence, natural and useful correspond- ence, I would say, can be discovered between the color, size, and shape, of the Australian, and the climate, soil, productions, and inevitable modes of life, by which Aus- tralia is distinguished? Dr. Nott informs us, that "this immense country, extending from latitude 10° to 40° south, attests a special creation—its population, its animals, birds, insects, plants, etc., are entirely unlike those found in any AUSTRALIAN MYSTERIES. 61 other part of the world. The men present altogether a very peculiar type: they are black, but without the fea- tures, woolly heads, or other physical characters of Ne- groes."6 In another place, he groups descriptions, of which we may treat the following as the result: Austral- ians are of middle height, perhaps a little above it. Slenderly formed, long of arm and long of leg, with fore- heads unusually narrow and high; having deep set, small, black eyes; with noses aquiline by nature, but deformed by barbarous maternal tenderness ;f showing high cheek bones, large, teethy mouths, retreating chins, and short, thin necks; their color varies from deep black to reddish black.* Now what of natural adaptedness to regions, which can boast the palm, the cedar, and the pine, hard timber, and gigantic grasses, can we find in men like these ? Well may Dr. Draper exclaim, " What more humilia- ting spectacle could be offered to us than the annexed engraving from M. d'Urville ? Even a negro of Guinea might look down on such a specimen of human imbecility and physical weakness with contempt, and refuse to rec- ognize such a being as a man at all." h Would not another color, shorter arms and legs, a broader forehead, better features, nobler bearing, be as useful, as desirable in all respects in this peculiar region, as in those where glimpses of man's physical perfection have been had ? Can we give any better reason for Aus- tralian imbecility and weakness in the presence of luxuri- ant nature, than we can assign for arctic dwarfishness in presence of the massive and the powerful ? Do we not (e) Types, 70. (f) The nose as seen in the adult is described as '•' much depressed at the upper part, between the eyes, and widened at the base, which is done in infancy by the mother, the natural shape being of an aquiline form." Types, 433. (g) Types, 433. (h) Physiology, 564. 62 ADAPTEDNESS AGAIN. find another evidence of man's unresting and adventurous disposition, penetrating, unprepared and ignorant, into a region little like man's genial home, in other lands? " What is it," says the physiologist just cited, " that has brought this man and his companion to such a pass ? An almost tropical sun, a pestilential climate, starvation, na- kedness, the want of shelter, personal fear: these have done their work on the successive generations of his mis- erable ancestors, who have been forced from step to step in a descending career, and here is the result."' In passing, let me guard myself against a misconstruc- tion, by reminding the reader, that I am not disposed to attribute color entirely to climatic causes. I am inclined to believe, that colors formed an original diversity of hu- man nature. Climate may have deepened shadows into darkness. Climate may have blanched a skin, which formerly had borne " The shadow'd livery of the burnished sun." But climate, I incline to think, cannot be regarded as the source of the original diversities of color in varieties of man. All I desire at present is to show, that those who treat with such contempt the history of human nature, which derives it from one creation, and makes all mankind the children of a single parentage, have failed to point out in the Arctic and Australian types, the fitness of each type, respectively, to its abiding place or province. When I ask, if the Australian needs the color that he bears, I only ask: Is his peculiar hue the only conceivable color, which, assuming that his type is a primordial form, and was cre- ated for the place in which we find it, would adapt him to the circumstances of his state ? And so as to size and (i) Op. cit. loc. cit. OUR OWN HYPOTHESIS. 63 shape of body. I desire to know, assuming still that Arctic and Australian types were formed primordially for just the place and just the climate, in connection with which we know them, why the Arctic or Australian man should be inferior in size or shape to man as found in Araby ? If God had pleased to give the Esquimaux more pliability; if, where we see a pigmy, it had pleased the great Creator to delight our sight with fair proportions, is it inconceivable that God could have infused a vigor, a resisting power, into Arctic constitutions, which would have preserved the type thus fashioned from the rigors of the climate ? On the supposition, that He specially created Arctic and Australian types, it is almost impossible to en- tertain the strange hypothesis, that He permitted man to be deprived of stature, shape, and the beauty of color, in the presence of a vegetation such as we behold in the Australian realm, or such luxuriance and strength of lower animal existence as we find in the Arctic Zone. On the hypothesis which I prefer, however, all our speculations on this subject easily repose. We find man various in color from the first. We find him various in stature, form, and strength, from the beginning. And we find in these varieties, sometimes, the very motive for the wandering into unknown, and dangerous, and distant regions. That they do sometimes fit the wanderer for his new home, we cannot doubt. That they are often deepened by climatic causes and inevitable modes of life—by food, by occupa- tion, by the course of thought—we cannot entertain a reasonable doubt. But here I may be told of Jews, who always plainly manifest the Jewish type, in whom, however altered, we can always recognize the Jewish physiognomy. " It is admitted," says Dr. Nott, " by ethnographers of every party, that mankind are materially influenced by climate. The Jewish skin, for example, may become more 64 JEWS, WHITE AND BLACK. fair at the north, and more dark at the tropics, than in the Land of Promise; but, even here, the limit of change stops far short of approximation to other types. The com- plexion may be bleached or tanned, in exposed parts of the body, but the Jewish features stand unalterably through all climates, and are superior to such influences." * I will not so wrong the learned Doctor as to quote at large the argument, in which he treats of white and black Jews at Malabar. Ethnographers may have a privilege of designating as "mendacious instances," and "dodging," what they find opposed to their hypothesis or to their his- tory of man. But I will not so honor such a claim of privilege as to present at length the language, in which Nott has exercised the ethnographic right of so abusing what may be opposed to ethnographic theories. I will, however, grant, for the sake of argument, that black Jews are not Jews.k I will, for the sake of argu- ment, agree, that "the evidence of Dr. Buchanan can scarcely leave room for a doubt, that the white Jews had been living for at least a thousand years in Malabar, and were still white Jews, without even an approximation, in type, to the Hindoos; and that the black Jews were an 'inferior race'—not of pure caste'—or, in other words, adulterated by dark Hindoos—Jews in doctrine, but not in stock."» I will, for the sake of peace as well as for the sake of truth, agree that the true Jewish complexion is fair, and that there is an unmistakable identity of features in all Jewish physiognomies. But I have searched in vain for any evidence to sustain the assertion, that the Jewish " species" has "preserved its peculiar type from the time of Abraham to the present day, or through more than one hundred generations; and has therefore transmitted directly to us the features of Noah's family, which preceded that of Abraham, accord- (j) Types, 118. (k) lb. (i) ib. 120. THE CAUCASIAN MISSION. 6$ mg to the so-termed Mosaic account by only ten genera- tions." m I will not make any extended showing against this too bold assertion. At present, I will only state, as the result of what the learned Nott has stated—constantly assuming that his facts, unlike the Jews which are not Jews, are facts—this proposition : That from early times, the Jewish type has been distinguishable, and that it con- tinues still to be so, independent of all change of place and climate. So conceding, let us note, that Jewish types are found in every clime, in every development of social order. If the type was, as the learned Nott insists, primordial, it was created for the very province in which history discerns its place of origin. Why does it wander from that prov- ince ? Man, we are informed, was not created in a single pair. Nations were created as nations, thus reminding us of bees. I have not forgotten what our learned theorists advance, concerning what they recognize as the Caucasian " mis- sion." I have not forgotten, that, according to the theory we are examining, the arctic man has ne'er a mission. He is kept at home for want of the Caucasian mission to civ- ilize the earth, to extend over and colonize all parts of the globe. The "wandering Jew" is only blindly acting out his mission. But, beloved Dr. Nott! I see not one, nor two, but many difficulties in this missionary theory. We begin by finding, that a type of mankind—the Jew- ish type as well as any other—is a primitive or original form, independent of climatic or other influences. " AH men," we are told, " are more or less influenced by exter- nal causes, but these can never act with sufficient force to transform one type into another." We are next informed, that the boundaries within which the different natural (m) Types, 124. 5 66 STRANGE FATE OF THE MISSIONARIES. combinations of animals are known to be circumscribed, coincide with the natural range of distinct types of man. We are not told, that distinct types confine themselves within their respective natural ranges. We are only told that each type has a natural range, and that " history, traditions, monuments, osteological remains, every literary record and scientific induction, all show that races have occupied substantially the same zones or provinces from time immemorial." n But now we learn, that, far from having occupied ^substantially'' the same zones or provinces from time immemorial, the types distinguished as Caucasian cannot be confined, and never were confined, within the zone where we distinguish them as most at home. We find them penetrating arctic seas, and visiting the jungle and the deserts. Among the miserable Australians, we dis- cover the Caucasian types, digging for gold. In Green- land we discover them, robbing the eider duck of the precious down, which is to be transported to most distant climes. We find them carrying the cross, or following the compass, into every quarter of the earth. " The higher castes of what are termed Caucasian races, are," says our most learned theorist, " influenced by several causes in a greater degree than other races. To them have been assigned, in all ages, the largest brains and the most powerful intellect; theirs is the mission of extending and perfecting civilization — they are by nature ambitious, daring, domineering, and reckless of danger—impelled by an irresistible instinct, they visit all climes, regardless of difficulties; but how many thousands are sacrificed annu- ally to climates foreign to their nature !" ° Now, if Caucasian types were especially created, each for an appropriate province, each in a distinct nationality, we may inquire, why was not each specific type confined (n) Types, 77, 80. See, also, lb. lviii. (o) lb. 67. ETHNOLOGICAL SUICIDE. 67 to its intended province, by that species of local attach- ment which holds the Greenlander to Greenland ? Why did types amalgamate? Why do amalgamated types transcend the limits of the zone for which they were de- signed? The christian ethnology, asserting unity of origin, asserting a diversity of types in the first pair, not question- ing, that in the infancy of human history diversity of types may have appeared, with seeming spontaneity, but real harmony with great designs and out of natural or super- natural causes—this christian anthropology enables us to answer why and how it may have been, that types unfitted for the rigors of the arctic zone, may have surrendered to those rigors some of their original characteristics. It en- ables us to speculate in harmony with common sense, upon the types we find perverted in New Holland. But the ethnological account of man is utterly unable to remove the difficulty which I have presented. It does not inform us of primeval innocence, of disobedience, of the fall, and of the fatal change which followed man's departure from the grand design of his creation. It denies that man was ever in the state of Adam in the garden. If it graciously allows, that Adam is not fabulous, it finds that Adam was the type of Jewish nationality, and not the father of the human race. It cannot trace the typical varieties of hu- man nature, as the Christian traces them, to those vast possibilities of kind which were embodied in the nature of the pair, from whom all human races are derived. It has asserted, that the types have each a natural province, and that in the circumscription of that province we may easily discern a plain coincidence with that of types of animals below the level of humanity. It cannot tell us why the human types so circumscribed, have ventured into prov- inces for which another type alone was fitted by the plan of nature. And it cannot tell us why the types designed to be specific, have confused their characters by mere amalgamation. 68 DEPARTURE FROM THE NATURAL DESIGN. For, it will not do to say, that the Caucasian types amalgamated that they might be strong for conquest, and disposed to take possession of the earth. Amalgamation is departure from the plan of nature, as the plan of nature is defined by those who quite reject the theory of unity. The disposition to subdue and take the place of feebler and immovable varieties of man, such as we find, for in- stance, in Australia or in Greenland, is a disposition to depart from that same plan of nature. So, indeed, the ethnological account of man informs us. For, most strangely arguing in favor of the quite unsupported state- ment, that we find coincidence between the circumscrip- tions of the natural range of distinct types of human nature and the limits of the provinces in which the an- swering types of lower animals are circumscribed, it asserts triumphantly, that men in whom we recognize the type appropriate to the temperate zone, are constantly perishing in arctic and in other regions, into which they are blindly driven by their aforesaid " mission." Argu- ment like this may be respectable in ethnographic " dem- onstrations" against fundamental doctrines of the faith of Christendom; it would not be respectable in courts of justice. If Caucasian types must perish when their "mis- sion" leads them into regions not designed for their abode, we must either set aside the doctrine that their mission is a natural one, or quite deny that their confinement within the temperate zone is natural. The mission doctrine can- not harmonize with that of local circumscription. Man cannot be at once designed to be confined within a certain zone, and destined to be unconfined by any boundaries. The instinct of our human nature would confine us to our destined spheres of action, if the doctrine that each type was specially created for a certain nationality, in an appropriate division of the earth, had any claim to our attention, higher than its novelty and boldness have con- INCONSISTENCY. 69 ferred upon it. Men would not be wanderers, if they had been created to be fixtures. Types would not amalgamate if they had been designed for modes of life for which amalgamation would unfit them. Instinct would prevent amalgamation, even as it would prevent migration. Inconsistency is certainly much oftener apparent in the ethnographical attempts to set aside the Bible, than the theorists themselves are likely to suspect. But it is never more apparent than in the particular now under notice. The class of Mammifers, we are informed,? " is composed of about two hundred genera, which may be divided into two parts. 1st. Those whose habitations are limited to a single Zone. 2d. Those, on the contrary, which are scat- tered through all the Zones. There would at first' seem to be a striking contrast between these two divisions; on the one side, complete immobility, and on the other, great mobility; but this irregularity is only apparent, for when we examine attentively the different genera, we find them governed by the same laws. Those of the first division, whose habitat is limited, are, in general, confined to a few species, while those of the second, on the contrary, contain many species, but which are themselves confined to certain localities, in the same manner as the fewer genera of the first division. Thus we find the same law governing spe- cies in both instances. We will cite a single example out of many. The White Bear is confined to the Polar regions, while other ursine species inhabit the temperate climates of the mountain chains of Europe and America; and finally, the Malay Bear, and the Bear of Borneo, are restricted to torrid climates." Assuming that this statement is correct, so far as respects the lower animals, we find the ursine species strictly limited to their appropriate divisions of the earth. And it may be insisted, that the White Bear and the Es- (p) Types, 64. 70 MORE INCONSISTENCY. quimaux are equally confined within the arctic regions. This may not be precisely true; but we will here concede it to be true. But ethnological as well as other learning tells us that, while the circumscription of the arctic human being and the circumscription of the arctic bear, may thus appear to coincide, no such coincidence exists between the circumscription of the human being in the temperate zone, and that of bears in the same zone. The species of man in the temperate zone are not, like arctic bears or bears of Borneo, confined to any province. Wandering is rather the rule than the exception to the rule, which all the types of the temperate zone observe. But we have not yet seen the inconsistency referred to in the strongest light in which it may be contemplated. Ethnographical denouncers of the biblical account of man's creation, do not merely point to Franklin perishing in arctic winter, or to like examples of the penalty, which types created for the temperate zone must pay for ventur- ing beyond the limits of that zone, and entirely overlook the argument against them in the fact, that countless in- dividuals have thus departed from the province for which (we are told) their type was, from the first, designed. They are blinder than this simple statement of their in- consistency reveals. They are so blind and inconsistent as to tell us, that the great division of the human family distinguished as Caucasian, is " increasing in numbers, spreading in all directions, encroaching by degrees upon all other races wherever they can live and prosper, and gradually supplanting inferior types." « In a word, they are so blind as to assert, with the same breath, that the types of the temperate zone cannot with impunity trans- gress a certain boundary, and that their mission is to occupy all portions of the globe! But now we must encounter mummied heads, with He- (q) Types. THE ARGUMENT FROM ICONOLOGY. 71 brew faces,—heads which may have been as old as Moses, or as young as Anno Domini three hundred ;r bas-reliefs of Jewish captives from Lachish; and retrogressive series of monumental evidences back to dates yet older than the time of Abraham's arrival in Egypt. Who will give us such assurance as we need of the fidelity of pictures thus presented ? Who will kindly show the mummies or the monuments so copied, to be copied by an art unprejudiced as well as capable? But, not imputing the design of in- troducing into copies, Abrahamic features not apparent in originals, I am content to note the objection here hinted at, and to proceed as though no such objection could be taken. When Dr. Nott arrives at dates preceding those of Hebrew annals, he invents a new cognomen for the Jewish type. He makes it now Chaldaic. Then, inform- ing us that " the sixteenth century b. c, according to Lep- sius's system of chronology, touches the advent of Abraham and later sojourn of his grandson Jacob's children in the land of Goshen," he alleges, that " relations of war, com- merce, and intermarriage, between the people of the Nile and those from the Tigris and Euphrates, in these times, were incessant. Semitic elements (as we shall see in the gallery of royal Egyptian portraits further on) flowed from Asia into Africa in unceasing streams. The Queens of Egypt, especially, betray the commingling of the Chaldaic type with that indigenous to the lower valley of the Nile ; and although we shall resume these evidences, the reader will recognize the blending of both types in the lineaments of Queen Aahmes-Neferari, wife of Amunoph I, son of the founder of the XVIIth dynasty, about 1671 b. c. Hers is the most ancient of regal feminine likenesses identified; and of it Morton wrote, ' Perhaps the most Hebrew por- trait on the monuments is that of Aahmes-Nofre-Ari.' " Having thus," continues our theorist, " traced back (r) Types, 116. 72 ARCHAEOLOGICAL INDICATIONS. the Chaldaic type into Egypt before the arrival of Abra- ham, first historical ancestor of the Jews, we have proved the perpetuity of its existence, through Egyptian and As- syrian records, during 3500 years of time, down to our day. But the Jewish type of man must have existed in Chaldsea for an indefinite time before Abraham. After all, he was merely one emigrant; and his ancestral stock, at 1500 b. c, must have amounted to an immense popula- tion. We hold, without hesitation, that 2000 years before Abraham, there had already been intermarriages between the Chaldaic and the Egyptian species. No ethnographer but will perceive, with us, the Jewish cross upon Egyptians of the IVth Memphite dynasty, 3500 years b. c, say about 5400 years ago: and such amalgamations must then have been far more ancient."s What does this amount to ? If Aahmes-Neferari was an instance of the blending of Chaldaic and Nilotic types, and Abraham an instance of the unadulterated Chaldaic type, how shall we wonder if, in Abraham's de- scendants, his peculiarities were well preserved, while in Aahmes-Neferari's children, what was not Nilotic in her constitution disappeared ? Why need we wonder, if the Chaldaic type, as it existed in the father of the Jewish multitude—the parent of many nations—was preserved by causes, such as religion, language, a community of interest, and similarity of mental modes in general ? Why need we wonder, if the sympathy of faith, the habits of a people that was taught to look upon itself as chosen, and the like, may have so deepened the peculiarities of the Chaldaic type — in itself quite alterable—as to produce a seeming indelibility in the Abrahamic type? And what is proved against the doctrine we defend, by the mere fact, that the type which in the Jew seems quite unalterable, is evidently present in Chaldsea, at a date anterior to Abraham ? Will (s) Types, 134-135. CONCESSIONS. 73 any one pretend, that the fact, that the type, which, since the time of Abraham, has been apparently indelible, " ex- isted in Chaldoea for an indefinite period before Abraham," does more than tend to prove originality in the Chaldaic type ? Will any one pretend, that it even strongly tends to prove, that the Jewish peculiarities formed a primitive type of Man ? I confess, that I begin to weary of the task in which I am engaged. There is, in all the theories which I have examined—however respectably advanced or endorsed— so little to justify a reasonable thinker in abandoning the narrative in Genesis, that I feel disposed to seek better company than that of the inconclusive but pretentious theories with which I have endeavored to deal. The most that can be said of these theories is, that if they were un- contradicted, they might lead us in the direction of their conclusions. Contradicted, however, as they are, by the traditions of that part of the human race to which we are indebted for the only rational theology, they could not stand for a moment against the Book of Genesis, even if we should consider the latter as the mere uninspired evi- dence of the antiquity of those traditions. It will not be expected that I shall attempt to follow the learned authors of the " Types" throughout the ponderous volume, in which they present so many supposed impeach- ments of the Mosaic narrative. We have seen the kind of reasoning on which they claim a verdict. It is right to say, that the specimens of that reasoning here presented to the reader are fair specimens, and that no stronger showing, of any kind, is anywhere presented than that we have encountered. I have not overlooked the most unsat- isfactory showing with reference to human fossils. I have not overlooked the chapter on the Hybridity of Animals, considered with reference to Man. I have overlooked nothing. But, I repeat, every just concession is made in 74 CONCLUSION OF THE ARGUMENT. favor of the strongest theories presented in the volume alluded to, when we concede, that many facts, apparently tending to show that the types of Man were original diver- sities, proceeding from different centres of creation, are collected by the industry, and over-estimated by the zeal, of our learned theorists. Against this tendency appears the tendency of the narrative in Genesis. The latter ten- dency is stronger than the former. It is far more harmo- nious with the facts produced to overthrow it, than the very theories which the facts are produced to establish. Considerations such as these, appear to warrant me in declining to devote a larger portion of this volume to the examination of the supposed impeachments of the narra- tive on whose verity I am disposed to insist. I have dis- credited the reasoning, on the supposed strength of which our adversaries attack our record. I demand a verdict in its favor. Before agreeing to that verdict, the intelligent reader will, of course, examine the work to which I have alluded so often, in the parts not here subjected to minute exam- ination. He will endeavor to discover truth, indeed, wherever truth presents itself as relative to the great ques- tion we are trying. When he reaches a conclusion, he will disregard all mean considerations in delivering his verdict. But if, as I anticipate, his verdict must be, that the faith of Christendom is not to be discredited by the scientific theories which assert the plurality of human origin, let him then rejoice. Let him rejoice, that we are not to set aside the faith of christian ages and the memo- ries of christian Art. Let him rejoice, that christian faith may still relate to life to come, and christian Art still aim to make its works suggestive of that Perfection, which, quite unattainable on earth, still beckons the earthly artist to the realm, where the Good has no taint of ill, and the True is the all-knowing, and the Beautiful is free from blemish. CHAPTER V. MAN, THE "LAWER." THE appearance of Man in the Order of Art precedes the appearance of Law. Neither the presence of Man in Nature, nor his first appearance in the Order of Art, is due to the operation of any Law. Strictly, indeed, Law has no operation. It is the rule of operation rather than a force of operation. We abuse our minds when we dis- course of Laws of Nature, unless we carefully remember, that the language in which we so discourse is simply met- aphorical. It may seem proper enough to speak of God as observ- ing His own Laws in Creating and Preserving; but, after all, the only Law of which we have the right to speak with confidence, is Law given by God to His creatures, or Law invented by His creatures to be observed in the earthly life of Art. After carefully endeavoring to reduce my own concep- ton to harmony with that affected by the learned, I find myself unable to regard Law otherwise than as common language, and the common understanding of language, attest the meaning of the word. The law of nature I re- gard as nothing more, so far as man is concerned, than the light in which reason would reveal duty, if God should make no revelation. Law I must consider as a thing, laid down, or placed, before a thinking mind as the rule of its 76 LEGAL ETYMOLOGY. action, and of the action of the body in which the mind is active. When Adam appeared in Nature, he may have appeared in harmony with a Will of God analogous to Law. But, as already intimated, when we say that God proposed to Himself the creation of the world, and of Man in the world, as man proposes to himself a law, we quite transcend the region of things known to us. The objection here made to the use so frequently made by the learned of the word Law, will not seem puerile when we consider with what purposes we enter on the present studies. Certainly, a work pretending even to the lowest rank of the philosophical, must not insist on literal distinctions, or the niceties of etymology, unless for a sub- stantial purpose. The purposes for which I insist on the etymological value of the word Law, are not unsubstan- tial. Loose definitions of the word lead to loose notions of the thing—and the thing is among the most important concerns of human being. It will be apparent, to such as are well acquainted with the history of this production, that I do not here strictly adhere to any preconceived opinions, merely because they were preconceived. On the contrary, I correct, to some extent, a published opinion, when I assume the position here taken. I am content, at present, to regard Law as a rule of action, passion, state or condition, and property, without insisting, as I once insisted, that the notion of words must necessarily enter into its true definition. I still insist, as I formerly insisted, that the etymology of the word Law is of great practical significance. I still insist that, as to human beings, Law is of little value until worded in some form. The word in question is derived from the ancient verb lagen, to lay down, or from the noun Lage, still employed in German, to signify site, situation, position. Thus, posi- THE WORD LAW. 77 tiveness belongs to the notion of Law. But, as has been well observed by more than one writer, more than this belongs to it. Intelligence on the part of the being ob- servant of Law, no less than positiveness and intelligibility in the Law itself, must be supposed, when we consider being, action, or passion, as affected by law. An anno- tator has well observed, that what Blackstone calls the "more confined sense" of laws, is, perhaps, the only sense in which the word Law can be strictly used. That more confined sense accepts laws as " the rules, not of action in general, but of human action or conduct; that is, the precepts by which man, the noblest of all sublunary beings, a creature endowed with both reason and free will, is commanded to make use of those faculties in the general regulation of his behavior." Such is the language of Blackstone. And the annotator alluded to observes, that in all cases where the word law is not applied to human conduct, it may be considered as a metaphor, and in every instance a more appropriate term may be found. He adds, that " when law is applied to any other object than man, it ceases to contain two of its essential ingredient ideas, viz, disobedience and punishment." a A learned physiolo- gist—so often referred to in the course of this volume as almost to appear the writer's only scientific teacher—has also objected to the usage of the learned in the particular here in question. Having to some extent stated his ob- jections, Carpenter proceeds: " In its scientific acceptation, therefore, a Law of Nature must be admitted to possess no coercive power whatever; and to speak of phenomena as being governed by laws, is altogether incorrect. The only sense in which this form of expression can be admit- ted to have any true meaning, is when the law is the expression of a will, which is potent to produce, to direct, or to restrain the actions, to which it relates. Thus the (a) 1 Bl. Comm. 39, and note (1) by Chitty. 78 ART AND LAW. laws of a State are expressions of the Will of the govern- ing power, intended to regulate the conduct of the com- munity over which it rules; and they become entirely inoperative, from the moment when that power ceases to be effectual to carry out the purposes which it has thus announced. So, then, if we recognize in the Universe the existence of a sustaining and controlling Power, we may regard the Laws of Nature which Man has discovered, as expressions of the plan (so far as he has succeeded in un- veiling it) according to which that Power acts; and we may then legitimately speak of the phenomena of Nature as governed by, or rather taking place according to, Laws—it being always borne in mind, however, that these laws are mere human expressions of the plan on which the Divine Power seems to operate, and may be not only very imper- fect, but also very incorrect." While, however, I insist that, when we suppose God to be observant of His own Laws, we have no such knowl- edge of God as makes the supposition more than fanciful, I do not think it quite exceptionable to indulge the sup- position, that the Highest Will may be observant of the Highest Law. That God is, as it were, a Law to Himself, may be supposed equally without irreverence and without absurdity. I shall, therefore, entertain the hypothesis alluded to. And, entertaining that hypothesis, I beg the reader to allow some further speculation, touching the re- lation of Law to Art. What we have seen of Nature, shows her as supplying all the forces and the substances in which the operativeness of Art is manifest. Nature, therefore, seems to be the all- containing. But there is an Art superior to Nature. In Creation, we may, perhaps, without irreverence, con- sider Art as producing Nature. The first appearance of Art, therefore, with reference to what we distinguish as Nature, is the appearance of the divine Art, of which Na- THE DIVINE ART. 79 ture itself is the created work. This divine Art, higher than Nature, is yet operative throughout the whole of Nature. Theologians tell us of the " perpetual and inti- mate conservation by which God preserves all things. Creation and preservation," they inform us, " are not two different actions. They can be separated only in idea. The one is the going on of the other. It is an opinion which has found favor in the schools, and which is pecul- iarly in harmony with the language of the ancient fathers, that no less an influx of God is required to preserve a thing in being than to call it first out of its original nothing- ness." b But the theological doctrine of grace, as recog- nized by the laws of Christendom in the conservation of the christian system, is a still more striking assertion of the operation of the divine Art in Nature. For, although we here distinguish all the voluntary life of Man as belong- ing to the Order of Art rather than to the Order of Nature, we do not forget that it is in Nature, and with natural forces, that the Art of Man is operative. If, then, the divine Art directly influences human Art, and if human Art is operative in nature, and with the forces of nature, we see how completely the Art of God must permeate the nature it created and continues to preserve. Art, then, permeates Nature. And, as the proposition or contemplation of a work of Art is, in some sense, the positing of a law, we may consider that all the changes in Nature are the work of Art obedient to, or harmonious with, what we have ascertained to be Law. It is, then, a question of some interest, whether it is only in God respecting His own laws, or in Man obedient to laws of God or Man, that we may distinguish the law- abiding, law-observing, law-obeying, lawful ? I have indicated, that in Nature, as I understand it, not a trace of obedience to Law can be discerned. The con- (b) The Creator and the Creature, 155. 80 ZOOLOGICAL DISTINCTIONS. formity of the natural order to the laws of the Divine Art by which Nature was created, I have considered as other than obedience to law. Obedience to law I limit to the life of Art. But is the earthly life of Art confined to Man? The lexicographers remind us of the fable, in which ^Esop tells us of the question which the Lion raised with his human interlocutor, concerning works of art portray- ing man's assumed supremacy. They tell us, that the word art is derived from a word significant of manly strength or skill;0 and that art itself is the application of human knowledge or skill in the formation of things.*1 And when we consider how the soul of Man forms his distinction—when we remember all that marks the mind of Man—we cannot quarrel with the lexicographers. It is with this presiding mind that we have most to concern ourselves, when we treat of Animal and Artistic Life. The voluntary mind is the true Artist. For it, the eye is an optical instrument, and the ear collects the waves of sound. For it, all the senses do their wonderful offices. By it, is the eye of the workman directed; by it is his hand applied to the production of the useful and the beautiful. By it, are the steps of Man conducted to discovery, and by its power are inventions added to the products of skill. By it is the Good discerned, the True known, and the Beautiful appreciated. It is so high in the exalted life of Man, that we must approach it with a feeling near akin to reverence. It points to Heaven. It defies the King of Terrors. It survives the ruin of its tenement. Its joys still live in hope, when sorrow only visits earthly life. Such mind as this, immortal in a mortal body, seems to us confined to Man alone. And yet all animal existence shows a principle most like to human mind. " It may be, as I observed on a former occasion," says Sir Benj. Brodie, (c) Richardson. (d) Worcester. INSTINCTIVE ARTISTS. 81 " that some of those beings, which are usually regarded as the very lowest form of animal life, have no endowments superior to those which belong to vegetables. Setting these aside, however, I apprehend, that no one who con- siders the subject can doubt that the mental principle in animals is of the same essence as that of human beings; so that even in the humbler classes we may trace the ru- diments of those faculties to which, in their state of more complete development, we are indebted for the grandest results of human genius. We cannot suppose the exist- ence of mere sensation, without supposing that there is something more. In the stupid carp, which comes to a certain spot, at a certain hour, or on a certain signal, to be fed, we recognize at any rate the existence of memory and the association of ideas. But we recognize much more than this in the dog, who assists the Shepherd in collecting his sheep in the wilds of the Welsh mountains."e When I first published, in any form, my thoughts con- cerning the distinction between Law-Making Man and the Instinctive Artists of the life below the rank of the Lawer, I felt puzzled by the apparent conflict of the distinction made by science, in this respect, with well known facts. I have not yet attained to any satisfactory opinion on this subject. Certainly, we may well incline to the opinion of Carpenter, when stated as follows, in view of the remark- able performances and modes of life of certain Insects. " When," says that writer, " we attentively consider the habits of these animals, we find that their actions, though evidently adapted to the attainment of certain ends, are very far from evincing a designed adaptation on the part of the beings that perform them, such as that of which we are ourselves conscious in our own voluntary movements or which we trace in the operations of the more intelligent Vertebrata. For, in the first place, these actions are in- (e) Mind and Matter, Dialogue V, p. 175. 6 82 THE SOCIAL INSECTS. variably performed in the same manner by all the individ- uals of a species, when the conditions are the same; and thus are obviously to be attributed rather to a uniform impulse, than to a free choice; the most remarkable ex- amples of this being furnished by the economy of Bees, Wasps, and other ' social' Insects, in which every individ- ual of the community performs its appropriate part, with the exactitude and method of a perfect machine. The very perfection of the adaptation, again, is often of itself a sufficient evidence of the unreasoning character of the beings which perform the work; for, if we attribute it to their own intelligence, we must admit that this intelligence frequently equals, if it does not surpass, that of the most accomplished Human reasoner. Moreover, these opera- tions are performed without any guidance from experience; for it can be proved in many cases, that it is impossible for the beings which execute them to have received any in- struction from,their parents; and we see that they do not themselves make any progressive attempts towards perfec- tion, but accomplish their work as well when they first apply themselves to it, as after any number of repetitions of the same acts. It is interesting to observe, moreover, that as these instinctive operations vary at different peri- ods of life, so is there a corresponding variation in the structure of the Nervous system. Thus we see that, in the larva of the Insect, these operations are entirely directed towards the acquisition of food; and its organs of sense and locomotive powers are only so far developed as to serve this purpose. But in the imago or perfect Insect, the primary object is the continuance of the race; and the sensorial and motor endowments are adapted to enable the individual to seek its mate, and to make preparations (frequently of a most elaborate kind) for the nurture of the offspring. Hence we can scarcely fail to arrive at the conclusion, that the adaptiveness of the instinctive opera- THE HIVE. 83 tions of Insects, etc., lies in the original construction of their nervous system, which causes particular movements to be executed in direct respondence to certain impressions and sensations. And this view is confirmed by the com- parison of these movements with those which have been always recognized as 'instinctive' in the Human being; thus, the act of sucking in the infant requires the combin- ed exertion of a considerable number of muscles, which combination is clearly not the result of intelligence and will, but is a purely ' reflex' act; and the same may be said of the acts of coughing and sneezing, the purpose of which is most obvious, and the adaptation to that purpose most complete; yet these acts are most assuredly not performed with any notion of their purpose, but at the prompting of an irresistible impulse, which, originating in an excitation applied to a sensory surface and conveyed to the automatic- centres, becomes the immediate source of all the separate muscular contractions which combine to accomplish the pre-arranged result."f But some historian of the Bee may deny the conclusive- ness of such authority. He may point to that " reputed perfection of policy and government," which, in reference to these little insects, " has long been the theme of admi- ration," and has " afforded copious materials for argument and allusion to the poet and the moralist in every age." * The theme will not be found below the dignity of the occasion. "It is a subject that has been celebrated and adorned by the muse of Virgil, as well as illustrated by the philosophic genius of Aristotle. Cicero and Pliny report that Aristomachus devoted himself during sixty years to the study of these insects; and Philiscus is said to have retired into a desert wood, that he might pursue his observations on them without interruption. A pro- digious number of authors have written express treatises (0 Carpenter, 5th ed., 643. (g) Encyc. Brit. tit. Beb. 84 REASON V. INSTINCT. on bees; periodical works have been published relating exclusively to their management and economy; and learn- ed societies have been established for the sole purpose of conducting researches on this subject."11 We cannot follow Philiscus to his desert wood, to learn from his observations of bees, whether, in their wonderful economy, there may be found anything in the least re- sembling the making of laws, as the means of government and the mode of controlling the one through the will of the many. Neither can we, in emulation of Aristomachus, devote sixty years of life to the study of the question, whether it is by an industry due to the excellence of apial legislation, that the "little busy bee" doth so " Improve each shining hour." If we improve the shining hours of useful study, we can- not, perhaps, determine the question thus brought before our minds. But, as already observed, the question is an interesting one. It deserves more than a passing notice. It may shed much useful light on the observations we are to make hereafter. I propose, therefore, to take some notice of the views assumed by at least one learned physi- ologist, of the distinction between the Art of Reason and the Art of Instinct. Sir Benjamin Brodie, who appears to have studied this subject with some interest, will not allow that it is easy to say how far the capacities of brutes are limited even by the want of the power of speech. It is not to be denied, he admits, that the aid of language is necessary to any long or complex process of reasoning. But he points to the reasoning, within limits, of those born deaf and dumb; and he thinks it may be questioned whether some animals are so wholly unprovided with language as certain phi- (h) Encyc. Brit tit. Bee. BRODIE'S VIEW. 85 losophers have supposed.1 He collects a great many facts and suggestions to support his position, that the mental principle in the lower animals is of the same essence as that of human beings. I will not attempt to follow him. I omit altogether, at least for the present, what he says of the connection between two orders of facts, in which it appears, " that there is in the different species of animals, on the one hand, a great difference as to the extent of their moral and intellectual faculties, and on the other hand, a not less remarkable difference in the size and formation of the brain." It will be of greater interest to the reader to note, in this connection, such facts as re- late to the differences observed as to the structure and relative value of the organs of sense. The complication and perfection of the eye of the bird, more complicated and perfect even than the eye of man; the eyes of insects, " consisting of as many as a thousand hexagonal and transparent plates, arranged, not in the same plane, but at angles to each other, so as to form altogether a large por- tion of a sphere, each having belonging to it what seems to be its own peculiar retina—so that the vision of insects, while it has an enormous range, has no such distinct pic- ture as is formed on the human retina, and probably affords its possessor less perfect means of distinguishing near and distant objects from each other—these and like facts, show, that the relations of animals to the external world, and their conceptions of objects external to them- selves, must differ according to the difference in their respective faculties of sense. Still, as Frederick Cuvier justly observes, ' we must not, therefore, exaggerate the« influence of the organs of sense on the mental functions; nor can we admit the doctrine which some authors have held, that the perfection of the intellect depends very much on the greater or less perfection of these physical organs.' (i) Mind and Matter, 178, Dial. V. 80 THE YOUNG OF LOWER ANIMALS. This is, indeed, an hypothesis clearly unsupported by facts." i Rejecting the hypothesis just stated, and denying that the perfection of the human hand makes man what he is, Sir Benjamin Brodie proceeds to a most interesting view of the distinction between instinct and reasoning. Putting his readers on their guard against Dr. Darwin, " whose great, but too discursive genius, was apt to travel too fast for the cautious pursuits of science," Sir Benjamin pro- duces several well known facts, accompanied by simple explanations. Food, he observes, is required to maintain life; but one does not ordinarily think of its ultimate object. It is merely to relieve the uneasy sensation called hunger that we are led to eat. This simplest form of in- stinct goes far towards explaining more complicated forms. The newly-born child has the same hunger as the grown up man; "and when applied to his mother's breast he knowsk at once how to obtain it, by bringing several pairs of muscles of his mouth and throat successively into action, making the process of suction. The newly-born calf needs no instruction to enable him to balance himself on his four legs, to walk, and seek the food with which he is supplied by his mother. The duckling hatched by the hen, as soon as his muscular powers are sufficiently developed, is im- pelled by the desire to enter the neighboring pond, and, when in the water, without example or instruction, he calls certain muscles into action, and is enabled to swim. When a sow is delivered of a litter, each young pig as it is born runs at once to take possession of one of his moth- er's nipples, which he considers as his peculiar property ever afterwards. So the bee prepares his honey-comb, and the wasp his paper nest, independently of all experience or instruction. It is worth your while to refer to the humor- ous exposition which Lord Brougham has given of the (j) Mind and Matter, 194. (k) Such is the language of Sir Benjamin. THE BEE AND THE MATHEMATICIAN. 87 mathematical accuracy with which the former does his work. Yet I do not see that is at all more marvelous than what we see in the young calf.1 It would require a pro- found knowledge of mechanics, and a long investigation, to determine beforehand what muscles should be called into action, and in what order they should act, to enable him to balance himself on his feet, to stand and walk. Yet all this he accomplishes at once, as if it were a mere matter of course. I do not see," says Sir Benjamin Brodie, " how these and a thousand other things can be explained on the hypothesis of Darwin, or otherwise, than by sup- posing that certain feelings exist which lead to the volun- tary exercise of certain muscles, and to the performance (1) In a note to Carpenter, we find the following: " The hexagonal form of the cell is the one in which the greatest strength and the nearest approach to the cylindrical cavity, required for containing the larva, are attained, with the least expenditure of material. But the instinct which directs the Bee in the construction of the partition that forms the bottom or end of the cell is of a nature still more wonderful than that which governs its general shape. The bottom of each cell rests upon three partitions of cells upon the opposite side of the comb; so that it is rendered much stronger than if it merely separated the cavities of two cells opposed to one another. The partition is not a single plane surface ; but is formed by the union of three rhomboidal planes, uniting iu the centre of each cell. The angles formed by the sides of these rhombs were determined by the measurements of Miraldi to be 109° 28' and 70° 32'; and these have been shown, by mathematical calculation, to be precisely the angles at which the greatest strength and capacity can be attained, with the least expenditure of wax. The solution of the problem was first attempted by Koenig, a pupil of the celebrated Bernouille ; and as his result proved to differ from the observed angle by only two minutes of a degree, it was presumed that the discrepancy was due to an error of observation, which it was easy to account for by the smallness of the surfaces whose inclination had to be measured. The question has been since taken up, however, by Lord Brougham (Appendix to his Illustrated edition of ' Paley's Natural Theology'); who has worked it out afresh, and has shown that, when certain small quantities, neglected by Kcenig, are properly introduced into the calculation, the result is exactly accordant with observation — the Bees being thus proved to be right, and the Mathematician wrong." 88 HUMAN MIND AND OTHER MIND. of certain acts, without any reference at the time to the ultimate object for which these acts are required." m It is to be observed in passing, that what the learned writer says of the knowledge of the newly-born infant, and of the newly-born calf, must have been inadvertently said. And it is also to be observed, that it is not accurate to say, that it would require a profound knowledge of me- chanics, and a long investigation, on the part of the newly- born calf, in order to know how to stand or to walk! The human infant does not instinctively stand or walk, but is taught to stand and to walk. Howsoever he learns how to do these things, it is evident that he learns, in some man- ner, to perform them, rather than instinctively performs them. And he acquires a sufficient knowledge for this purpose without dreaming of mechanics, or of long inves- tigations. But the fact, that the lower animals are born with the capacity which the human infant slowly acquires through knowledge, is certainly a most important fact in such an inquiry as the present. Its full significance, how- ever, will best appear hereafter. Sir Benjamin Brodie is inclined to hold, that " it is in the proportion which their instincts and intelligence bear to each other, that the difference between the mind of man and that of other animals chiefly consists. Reason- ing is not peculiar to the former, nor is instinct peculiar to the latter. Even as regards insects, which are generally, and properly, regarded as being below the vertebrate animals in the scale of existence, and whose nervous system is of so simple a structure as to admit of no comparison with that of the human subject, we cannot well hesitate to believe, that they are not altogether de- prived of that higher faculty which enables ourselves to apply the results of our experience to the new circumstan- ces under which we are placed. (m) Mind and Matter, 197, 198. (Dialogue V.) BEES AGAIN. 89 "'Esse apibus partem divinse mentis,' is no mere fiction of poetry. It is by instinct that the bee collects his honey, and constructs the hexagonal cells of his honey-comb (always according to the same pattern), from the wax provided for that purpose by his own secre- tions. But instinct will not account for all that he does besides. When a swarm is transferred to a new hive placed among many others, at first they are found fre- quently mistaking other hives for their own, and it is only by experience that they are taught after some time to distinguish the particular hive in which their queen is lodged." n I do not think it necessary to follow Sir Benjamin through what he says further of bees, or what he has col- lected touching the modes of life distinctive of ants—these excellent weavers, house-builders, makers of diving bells, galleries, vaults, and bridges. But it is well enough—even at the risk of apparent episode—to note, in passing, that Sir Benjamin intimates, that "bees have some means of communicating with each other, answering the purpose of speech," and thence to proceed to other notices of apial modes of life, and, especially, apial legislation. The polity and modes of life of bees have been described in such terms, that the writer, as an unlearned lawyer, knows not where to look for truth, where bees are con- cerned. If we are to believe a tithe of what we read, we are to credit bees with marvelous capacity. According to such philosophers as Reaumur, bees are to be credited with extraordinary wisdom and foresight. We are to consider them as animated by a disinterested patriotism, and as uniting a variety of moral and intellectual qualities of a (n) Mind and Matter, 200-201, referring to Carpenter's Principles of Physi- ology, Second Edition, 224. 90 APIAL POLITY. higher order.0 Even such writers, however, as reject what seems extravagant in the views of Reaumur, trace in apial life, " a community of wants and desires, and a mutual intelligence and sympathy, which lead to the constant in- terchange of good offices, and which, by introducing a sj'stematic division of labor, amidst a unity of design, lead to the execution of public works on a scale of astonishing magnitude." The same writers glorify " the attachment of bees to their hive, which they defend with a courage and self-devotion truly admirable; their jealousy of in- truders ; their ready co-operation in all the labors required for the welfare of the community; their tender care of their young; the affection and homage which they bestow on their queen, and which they manifest on all occasions in the most unequivocal manner." p Certainly, it is significant of Art, as we have character- ized it, rather than of Nature as we have characterized it, that cells should be adapted to receive eggs; that the queen bee should seem aware of the nature of the eggs she is laying, and deposit each in the kind of cell adapted to receive it; that she may be seen attentively examining the capacity of the cell before laying her egg. Certainly it is indicative of the same, that as soon as the eggs are depos- ited, the bees eagerly seek for that species of nourishment on which the larva is to be fed, and that as soon as the latter emerges, in its perfect form, its guardians assemble round it, caress it with their tongues, and supply it plenti- fully with food. The rivalship of queen bees, and the royal prisons of the hive, are unmistakably artful, and wonderfully like the art of human beings! The departure and succession of swarms, the massacre of the drones, the provision for winter, the depredations among hostile hives, and the lamentations for the loss of the queen, belong to the same class of indications. (o) Encyc. Brit. tit. Bee. (P) lb. DOUBTS AND DIFFICULTIES. 91 ' It is plain enough that these examples, added to what familiar life informs us of the horse, the dog, the cat, the birds, and other vertebrated animals, leave no room for question that a not inconsiderable portion of the life of animals, is distinctively artistic rather than instinctive. Will is not confined to Man. Intelligence is not confined to him. The artistic is not necessarily the human. Indeed, we have no means of deciding absolutely, as contended by Carpenter, that even what is constantly recognized by science as instinctive, proves itself to be in- stinctive by its very perfection. That sounds, at first, like a strong argument, which asserts, that if we attribute the perfection of the adaptation seen in the apial life and operations to the intelligence of bees, we must admit that this intelligence frequently equals, if it does not surpass, that of the most accomplished Human reason. But why should not the intelligence, for certain purposes, of the unprogressive bee surpass that of the progressive human being? And, reverting to the humble illustration of Bro- die, why should not even the ungainly animal that is born to the knowledge of locomotion and the capacity to per- form it, surpass in the rapidity with which it acquires the little knowledge that it needs, that human being, who, when fully educated, scales the very heavens with his daring vision, and aspires to knowledge yet more perfect in a life beyond the limit of this mortal span ? I do not mean to indicate any disposition to disagree from the learned writers, to whose learning I have chiefly appealed, when they attribute to simple instinct the won- derful performance of the bee in the construction of the honey-comb, or the like so-called instinctive acts of other animals. On the contrary, I am content with their views on this subject when I am allowed to add, that I consider our notions of the distinction between instinct and art as very far removed from certainty. 92 MAN NOT THE ONLY ARTIST. I recognize the life of all the Animals, therefore, as to some extent, at least, artful, artificial, or artistic. Pre- cisely as I recognize a part of human life as simply natural, I recognize a part of lower animal existence as simply natural. Precisely as I recognize the Volitional Life of Man as artistic, I recognize the Volitional Life of Lower Animals as artistic. CHAPTER VI. THE ZOOLOGIC RANK OF MAN. E have thus ascertained, that the artistic life of Man is not the only artistic life of earth. We have found artists in all the lower animals, in which a well marked animal existence is perceptible. And the question, wheth- er any of these artists, save the great Two-Handed, make, observe, or reverence what we distinguish as Law, must now be answered. The agreement of minds that a certain order of action, passion, disposition, and property, shall be constantly maintained, is the making of a law, that that order shall be constantly maintained. The maintenance of the order is the thing desired. It is proposed to the mind, no matter how. The mind contemplates it. It is laid down by the mind as the rule of its action. It is a law to the mind. In some instances, not a word is spoken towards the making of the law. A certain order is observed, because the community in which it is observed, is composed of in- dividuals agreeing in the desire to observe such an order, and prompted to observe it, not by words, but by the in- terest which each feels in its observance, and by an under- standing common to all the individuals of the community that such an order will be for the interest of all. The agreement of many minds lays the maintenance of this order before each mind as the law of individual conduct. ¥ 94 RELATION OF LANGUAGE TO LAW. What, revelation being out of the question, we call the Law of Nature, is, after all, nothing but the order of action, passion, disposition, and property, which the un- clouded reason of Man would invent, in presence of the harmonies of what is commonly called Nature, as analo- gous to those harmonies. It is the order which the same unclouded reason would determine ought to be observed, to enable Man to conform his conduct to the end of his creation. Whatever is regarded by Man as an order, which he ought to observe to the end of conforming his life to its design, he will, when seeking real happiness, deter- mine to observe. Each individual, agreeing in that pursuit of happiness which forms the tie of national community, will join in the determination to observe whatever order seems to make Man's life conformable to its design. Each individual, so agreeing, and so determining, may manifest both agreement and determination, without the use of words. But the order proposed must be really harmoni- ous with Nature, or with what each individual of the community regards as best for common interests, if all the individuals at once, and tacitly, proceed to its observance. Language has, therefore, in every instance since the fall of Adam, recommended, advocated, and to some extent preserved and attested, the established order of every hu- man community. Of course, if we can look upon the Bible as less than ruined by the assaults of scientific books—if, in this battle of the Books,, the Bible still remains the Book of Books— we are not to regard all Law, applied to human conduct, as of human origin, or as proceeding out of Man's percep- tion of the harmonies of Nature. For, if the Bible may still be cited in a forensic Philosophy of Man and Law, it teaches of not one, but many Laws, delivered to Man by his Creator. In the communication to Man of a divine commandment, we need not suppose the use of speech as SIMPLEST FORM OF LAW. 95 the instrumentality. The earliest commandment of God is represented as the commandment: " Be light made." But this is plainly enough a mere poetical expression of the fact, that God willed the creation of light. Are we otherwise to regard the saying of God, " Increase and multiply," until it is addressed to Man ? Nay, are we to regard Man himself as otherwise commanded in this par- ticular, than as the inspiration of God, added to the " in- stinctive tendency of nature," moved the first of men to institute the order of the family ? We must answer these questions only by a confession of our ignorance. We do not know that God communicates with animals below the rank of Man, except as He communicates with them through Man; we do not know that He does not other- wise communicate with them. Nor are we able to say, whether in any manner, or to any extent, the life of the animals below our rank is governed by law, whether that law be of their own invention or of divine authority. We know nothing of animal life which absolutely forbids us to suppose, that the bee, the wasp, the ant, or the beaver, may legislate, and judge, and punish, even as the human animal legislates, and judges, and enforces laws. We know nothing of animal existence, which makes it proba- ble that any thing nearly resembling the making and ob- servance of laws by which Man is distinguished, is to be found except in the society of men. But when we look at the simplest form in which Man may be governed by Law, we may find some reason for hesitating to deny the probability, that some of the lower animals conform their conduct to law, of which they understand the nature, and appreciate the value. The simplest form in which Law can govern conduct, is the form in which it is made by an individual the rule of his own behavior. I may lay before my mind the notion of a conduct, which I ought to observe. I may give 96 MAN, IN FORO. a certain fixedness to this notion. I may determine fre- quently to contemplate it, and never to violate it. My will thus becomes, as it were, a law to itself and to the mind in which that will is the determining power. All my conduct thus becomes conformed to a standard, which I have thus laid down (or lawed) before my mind, or rather in my consciousness. Now, we may certainly suppose the lower animals to be familiar with Law, and observant of it, in this sense, and in this form. Examples do not need suggestion. They will present themselves without suggestion. Let me repeat, a closer observation than any yet made by a fully competent observer, might detect in the knowl- edge of the animals below our rank, and in their artful modes of life, a still nearer resemblance to the science of Man, and his artful life as governed by Law. It might reveal the observance by those animals of Law in a more complex form than that just contemplated. But, knowing so little on this subject as we do, and warranted in assert- ing for Man an artful capacity as much nearer to perfec- tion than the artful capacity of the lower animals, and an end as much nobler than theirs, as his beginning of life is feebler and more dependent than that of the inferior life, we may confidently point to Man as distinctively the Maker and Observer and Enforcer of Law. If we return to the scene of our first observation of Man and Law, we may there discover in what it is that the artful life of Man outranks the artful life of other animals. We may find the forum offering facilities for a much nearer view of the artful capacity of man, than any we have yet attempted. The capacity in question cannot be considered as other than a psychical capacity. But we cannot estimate it properly without considering the physical instruments which have been supplied to it by simple nature, or which HANDIWORK. 97 it fashions for itself in the realm and with the forces of modified or artistic nature. Among these physical instruments the hand of man has a distinguished place. Volumes have been written to illustrate the relation of the human hand to the wonderful performances of human art. In the domain at large of that art, the hand is largely employed to conform the use of things to their design, and thus to assemble, combine and appropriate the constituents of the Good, considered as including the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. From the furrow to the statue—from the ploughman's labors to the sculptor's triumphs—art employs the hand to produce the Good in the Useful and in the Beautiful. The arts of life come to the courts of justice, either presentatively or representatively—either to contribute to the service, or to be regulated by the rules, of human law. And this hand of man, so busy elsewhere, is not here in- active. It does service to the law as well as to the arts of which law is the regulator. The prehensile faculty, of which the English word that names the hand is so express- ive,*1 and the wonderful nicety of the artificial performances which it makes possible to man, must bear a near relation to the making of laws, to the expression or significance and the permanence of the science out of which they issue, and to the operation of the art by which they are enforced. In the place of the present observation, we find the hand of man employed directly in the service of the law, or note the evidence of service elsewhere done by its instrumen- tality to jurisprudence. (q) "Goth. Handus; A. S. Wand; Dut. Hand, hard; Ger. Hand, handt; Sw. Hand; from the A. S. Hentan; Ger. Henden; Sw. Ebenta, capere, to take. Wachter is persuaded to prefer this etymology, quia manus in corpore humano est naturale et unicum capiendi instrumentum : the verb (henden) he derives from the Lat. Hendere (used only in composition), which, in Tooke's opinion, is just the reverse of the truth." Rich. Die. tit. Hand. See Prize. 7 98 THE HAND AND LANGUAGE. Behold! The busy pens of barristers and judges fly from page to page of noted testimony. With statelier sweep, the clerkly pen records the judgment, which may doom a life or wreck a fortune. Massive volumes of decisions and enactments are from time to time consulted; and we see the hand of man employing printing in the service of his jurisprudence. Turn; regard that prisoner! His hand is trembling while the witness speaks of that same hand, directing to a brother's heart the murderous weapon. Follow, in your thought, the murderer to execution. Still the human hand adjusts the rope, or wields the axe, which makes an end of law and life to him, who scorned them both. But do not, in the wonder which your study of the hand awakens, quite forget, that all the actions most distinctive of man, in the establishment of order made significant by law, while they are partly manual, must constantly remind us of the words, of which the written or the printed letters are themselves but signs. And what are words ? Condemned to restrict the scope of the present work to the limits in which the mere outlines of a forensic Philos- ophy may be contained, the writer cannot enter largely into the learning touching language. He cannot enter, with Carpenter, into the discussion of the question, wheth- er the Vocal Ligaments are strings, or flute pipes, or whether they more resemble metalic or elastic tongues. He cannot nicely examine the production of the voice in the larynx, or its modification into articulate speech in the oral cavity. He must consider speech as sufficiently un- derstood by the reader, without any novel suggestion in this place. Nor can the writer more than mention the interesting questions, which the learned have entertained, touching the origin of language. We cannot here inquire whether language slowly grew from accidental joinder of two sounds, to that most wonderful perfection of the art of HARMONY OF BODILY PECULIARITIES. 99 speech, distinctive of the Bible and of Shakspeare.' We must, however, so far violate our habits of mind, as to form to ourselves a clear notion of speech, as but the action of an agency, material as the hand itself, and sub- ject, like the hand, to higher powers. We must remember, that nerves, muscles, bones, ligaments, and air, are set to act, when language is produced, by something higher than themselves, their action, or the sounds which they produce. Nor, in our eagerness to rhapsodize about the power of speech, must we forget how the hand in gesture, and the face in expression, are joined to the simple articulation of sounds, when the miracles of speech are accomplished; nor how the erect bearing, and beautiful form, and grace- ful motion of the entire body, contribute to these won- derful results. Considerations such as these enable us to perceive, that neither the hand alone, nor the voice alone, nor the face alone, nor any other single physical peculiarity of man, has worked the wonders which enthusiasts attribute to (r) Read together the following: 1. " According to my fullest conviction, speech must be regarded as naturally inherent in man ; for it is altogether inexplicable as a work of his understanding in its simple consciousness. We are none the better for allowing thousands and thousands of years for its invention. There could be no invention of language, unless its type already existed in the human understanding. Man is man only by means of speech, but in order to invent speech he must be already man." Such is the language of William Von Humboldt, (cited in Fowler's Eng. Lang. 19.) 2. "To speak I tried, and forthwith spake; My tongue obeyed, and readily could name What'er I saw." Paradise Lost, Book VIII. 3. "Diese Sprache nun. diese wundervolle und kostbare Gabe des Himmels, wie ist sie entstanden? War sie dem Menschen angeboren, oder hat er selbst sie gebildet ? Viele haben das Erste behauptet, was gegen die Analogie der ganzen Natur streitet. Wohl ist Sprachfoehigkeit den Menschen angeboren; aber sie musz, wie seine Anlagen und Faehigkeiten alle, durch aeuszere Anlaesse entwic- kelt und ausgebildet werden." 1 Rotteck, Allgem. Geschichte, 303. 100 INSUFFICIENCY OF UNDERSTANDING. mere speech. Let Herder say, that " not Amphion's lyre, but Speech, built cities; by no magic rod were deserts turned to gardens; Speech it was that did it—Speech, the wonderful companioner of Man." We must guard our- selves against declaring, as we are tempted to declare, that to Speech we owe all words, to words all law, to law all order, and to order all our happiness and all our hopes. We must content ourselves with less impassioned language, touching speech. We must find the excellence of the art- ful capacity of man, not in some single physical peculiarity, but rather in the excellence and harmony of all human peculiarities, in combination. It is not even in the mere Reason or Understanding of Man, that the human capacity to be a progressive Artist, and to that end, to be a maker and, above all, an improver and developer of laws, pre-eminently dwells. As we have already seen, Reason more distinguishes the high estate of man by its degree than by its mere possession. Mind— the mind of reason and the mind of mere affection—is not evidently wanting in many of the animals, which man has ranked below his level, in his history of nature. In the lower life, which in some directions most nearly approaches ours, the nerves, the bones, the muscles, and the ligaments, which are employed in speech, give imitations of the won- derful submission of the human body to the human mind, by producing sounds not far removed from language. Nay, we have already seen, that certain animals have such perfection of the Instinct, as might lead a fanciful philoso- pher to claim for them the lowest place, at least, in our own rank as makers and observers of law. And who allows himself to be ashamed of the fellowship of mind, which often makes a real friendship between man and his swift " Tartar of the Ukraine breed," and even binds in loving, sympathetic and familiar rela- tionship the canine and the human race ? MYOPIA OF MIND. 101 Mere reason might content itself with inquisition into facts, which sensual supplies should bring before it; and might realize what Cowper says of false philosophy, and be " From instrumental causes proud to draw Conclusions retrograde, and mad mistake." We know, indeed, it has been so in man's experience. We know how reason has reduced to nothingness, in many a mind superior to its doom, all evidences of the senses, though denying the existence of all other testimony. "When the mass of mankind," says Sidney Smith,"8 "hear that all thought is explained by vibrations and vibratiuncles of the brain—that there is no such thing as a material world—that what mankind consider as their arms and legs, are not arms and legs, but ideas, accompa- nied with the sense of outness—that we have not only no bodies, but no minds—that we are nothing, in short, but currents of reflection and sensation; all this, I admit, is well calculated to approximate, in the public mind, the ideas of lunacy and intellectual philosophy." We know further, that there is Myopia in the mind as well as in the body—near-sightedness of reason—just as we perceive it in the vision. If, as we are told, "a 'short-sighted' per- son, whose nearest limit of distinct vision is not above half that of a person of ordinary sight, can see minute objects more clearly; his eyes having, in fact, the same magnify- ing power which those of the other would possess, if aided by a convex glass that would enable him to see the object distinctly at the shortest distance;" * we may well attrib- ute to the reason similar capacity to magnify what comes before it, when its " eye-sight of discovery," though far from blind, is shortened and restricted. "But as the myopic structure of the eye," says Carpenter, " incapacit- (s) Sketches Moral Philosophy, 15. (t) Carpenter's Phys. 671. 102 VALUE OF AFFECTION. ates its possessor from seeing objects clearly at even a moderate distance, it is desirable to apply a correction." " Now, in the normal mind of man, no mere near-sighted- ness of reason, magnifying the minute, but blind to the remote, can be deducted from the sum of man's capacity to govern his society, through legal order. Clouds of darkness may destroy the reach of mental vision—dark- ness of the soul; and even clouds of seeming fire may sear the eyesight of the mind, if it too daringly attempt to drink their too resplendent beauty. Thus, perhaps, the mind may take disease from what seemed full of promised health. However this may be, it needs the sympathy between affection and the intellect to open, wide and clear, the eyes of reason for performance of its perfect office. Reason, then, is most distinctive of law-making man, when we regard it in its union with affection. Man is marked by an affection so embracing and sublime, that earth and centuries cannot content it. This enspirits reason to foresee a life in which the sufferer and the op- pressed in this, may find their here denied repose, or health, or freedom. Making all enamored of the human order, which prepares us for that state, superior and blessed, it surrounds the law as the sole means of human order, with a thousand sanctions, which the armory of kings cannot supply. The affection, which thus sublimely looks to the future and the perfect, does not despise the present and the im- perfect. It constantly seeks the Good in the conformity of itself, and all the earthly objects with which the mind of man is conversant, to the end for which God designed them. It constantly searches for the True in the knowl- edge of itself, and of all the relations and contents of being. It constantly delights in the Beautiful, which it finds in what is most agreeable and ennobling in phenom- (u) Op. cit. loc. cit. ITS ASPIRATIONS. 103 enal existence. The earthly Good, the earthly True, the earthly Beautiful, it finds imperfect, but relates to the perfect Goodness, the complete Truth, and the faultless Beauty, of a life to come. And thus it dedicates Art, and Law which is the regulator of Art, to a present, relative, imperfect, but still hopeful and aspiring enjoyment of the imperfect Good, the incomplete True, the not faultless Beautiful, which Art and Law assemble and combine in social order; and to a preparation of the soul of man for the sphere of the future, the absolute, the perfect enjoy- ment of the true and beautiful Good, the good and beau- tiful True, the true and good Beautiful. BOOK SECOND. FORENSIC PHYSIOLOGY. CHAPTER I. THE NEED AND CHARACTERS OF A FORENSIC PHYSIOLOGY. THE view already taken of Man's power to adapt means to ends—in other words, of the artful capacity of the human being—has, to some extent, reminded us of that in which the power in question may be said to reside. But we shall not complete the studies, in which we are now engaged, without discovering, that a forensic view of Man requires much nearer scrutiny than any yet attempted, of the harmonious relation of the human mind and the hu- man body, in which consists the human capacity for artful life, as law is guide, protector, and corrector of that life. The human hand would not be instrumental in produc- ing the effects of Art, but for the delicate connection between the hand and the brain, which nerves, proceeding to and from that hand, may be regarded as supplying. But the connection thus referred to, is not the only delicate connection necessary to the cunning of the hand, or the achievements of the voice, or any of the triumphs of the body in the realm of Art. The brain itself is probably but the medium of connection between the mind and the body, and with objects in and about the body. And the mind, which is the contriver of effects—which fashions the ideal of the statue, or the picture, or the temple, and in things less dedicated to the beautiful, alike foresees and predetermines what it will accomplish—this mind can only 108 RELATION OF BODY AND MIND. know the outward as its images or concepts visit it through nervous agency. I am aware, that here I enter upon ground not easy to survey, and ground on which it is not less than perilous to such a work as this to enter. Yet I cannot choose but enter on it. Here, indeed, it may be proper to confess, that in pre- ceding chapters I have sought to toll my readers towards what I thought inevitable, yet feared to mention at the outset. I have endeavored to give all who have shared these studies, glimpses of a Physiology distinctively foren- sic, but of interest to all who live beneath the sway of Law. I have thus intended to prepare my fellow-students for a portion of this work, in which, assembling formally, or by mere reference or otherwise, whatever in preceding chapters properly belongs to such a Physiology, I should add, by a like species of composition, whatever seemed most germane to forensic anthropology. I say, by a like species of composition; for, for reasons partly known already to my readers, partly yet to be explained, I am quite unwilling to attempt the severely systematic produc- tion of even such a Physiology as that alluded to. We have now reached the point at which I think it safe to own my purpose, and to sound the note of preparation for the attempt to accomplish it. It cannot be denied, that the relation between body and mind is of a practical importance in a view of Man and Law such as the present. Not alone with reference to what I have distinguished as the artful or artificial powers of the human being, looked upon as artist or artisan, is that relation interesting. It is interesting specially to lawyers, as experts in their proper pursuits, as shall be more and more unquestionable, as we make due progress with our studies. This not denied, I have only to make a few additional suggestions, to shield what I design from all but an unworthy species of censure. HOW SHALL WE LOOK AT MIND? 109 To examine the relation which connects two things, is always, in some sort, to examine those two things them- selves. And when the relation of two things appears to be that of interaction, coaction, reciprocal and suppletory agency, in a sphere of activity such as that in which the soul and body of the human being illustrate the suggested relation, not the relation only, but the things related, will be attractive of the closest scrutiny for which we find ourselves prepared. Thus, being brought to the propriety and made sensible of the importance of examining with care the relation which connects the mind and body of the human being, we are brought to the propriety and made sensible of the importance of examining in like manner both the body and the mind of Man. But it is quite unnecessary, at the present day, to make experiments in order to acquire the information, that we cannot very profitably look at mind save as we scrutinize it through the body. Not intending to abandon to the censure of the physiologists all metaphysical philosophy— contemplating, on the other hand, an argument to show that Physiology has not acquired the right to speak with absolute contempt of Metaphysics—I design to honor Physiology by the concession, that to the physiologist far more than to the metaphysical philosopher we ought to look for a reliable Psychology. What I design, therefore, is, first of all, to indicate with more than ordinary care, the proper sources of a Physiol- ogy, distinctively forensic; and, next, to bring before my readers so much of the proper contents of such a Physiol- ogy as, with due reference to the general design of my undertaking, I find myself enabled to compose. I say, I mean to indicate with more than ordinary care, the proper sources of the Physiology in question. This I mean to do, chiefly because I do not think it just to esti- 110 SCOPE OF THIS UNDERTAKING. mate at a very high figure, my performance under the second branch of what I undertake. I have no expecta- tion of establishing a splendid name among the Physiol- ogists by my attempt to indicate the contents of forensic Physiology. Nor, indeed, ought I to be entirely mindless of Uriah Heep, when I advance to indicate the proper sources of the lawyer's proper Physiology. But when I deal with sources rather than with contents, I shall be less apprehensive of unfriendly criticism, than when I attempt to bring before the reader interesting sections of the Phys- iology itself, and to connect these as they ought to be connected. I design, therefore, to be quite unrestricted in my indi- cation of the proper sources of a properly forensic Physiol- ogy. Indeed, intending to continue the process of tolling, already alluded to, I mean to treat of sources in such a manner that, while I so treat, my readers shall find them- selves introduced to many, if not most, of the questions now attracting the examination of the learned, as relating to the proper ministry of justice. In what I purpose—even as I have explained its unpre- tending character—I feel that I venture much, yet not so much as some might fancy, on the simple statement of my purpose. Let me further guard my essay from all evit- able misconception. A lawyer, whose expertness, if he be at all expert, is often tried in such encounters with the scientific as I have already mentioned, cannot safely be entirely ignorant of Physiology. But while the writer is enabled to say that he has endeavored, by a study of the principles of Phys- iology, to manifest his sense of its importance to forensic excellence, he must here acknowledge, that his study of the Physiology of Carpenter and others, has not made him an expert in what he studied. Life forensic had too close a hold on him to leave it possible that he should master EXPECTED OBLIGATIONS. Ill Physiology. The utmost is pronounced in favor of his physiological acquirements, when he ventures to assume his competency to produce, and entertain, and, in some sense, to estimate, such teachings of the physiologist as most concern forensic experts. It is from Carpenter that I expect to take the largest portion of the learning, which I mean to bring before my readers. Anticipating the production of a larger work than that here offered to the public, I wrote to the learned Physiologist, apologizing for the liberty I expected to take with his inestimable work. Dr. Carpenter gracefully and generously gave me leave to exercise the largest liberty of fair quotation ; and I meant to exercise that liberty so as to make my readers well acquainted, not only with the doctrines of the learned writer, but with his language. For, pretending to originality in so far only as the office I have hitherto performed for the assistance of the reader is consistent with originality, and anxious more to make a worthy book than to achieve a reputation, I desired to make my readers familiar with the science so adorned by Carpenter, as well as with other branches of learning, less familiar than they ought to be, to forensic students. Du- ties, so imperative as not to be denied, compel me to abandon what I purposed, and to make myself content with the production of a single volume. In the compass of that volume, space cannot be found for the extensive indebtedness to Carpenter originally contemplated. Yet I shall, in terms or substance, often bring his views before the reader. And now we may begin to study that relation of the body and the mind, in which we may discern the artful capacity of the human being. That we should not at- tempt to study such a relation save in a forensic physiolo- gy, I have already indicated. That we shall not here con- fine ourselves to a view of the artful capacity of man, but, 112 CONTENTS OF FORENSIC PHYSIOLOGY. for economical reasons, shall connect with such a view all that properly belongs to a distinctively forensic physiology, I may here announce. It thus appears, that what we undertake at present is to explore the field of a distinctively forensic physiology. But what is a distinctively forensic physiology ? I beg the scientific reader to indulge me, if, instead of furnishing a definition as an answer to this question, I proceed to show what properly belongs to a forensic phys- iology. When Jefferson defined the objects of all government, he found it possible to classify them as life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. We may go further. We may say, that human life, with reference to its relations, is the single object of all human government. For civil liberty is but the circle in which human life may lawfully be act- ive, self-directive, free from all but monitory guidance and from needful restraint—it is the Wirkungskreis of life, as life is left to its own interests, attractions, and preju- dices. And the pursuit of happiness is but the living of a life in harmony with its design, or the endeavor to con- form a life to its design—in other words, it is the endeavor of life to reach its object and attain its end. It might therefore seem, that a distinctively forensic physiology might be constructed so as to include all objects of concern to legal minds. If, indeed, I should treat all we have already seen, and even all we are to encounter, in these studies, as but a liberal examination and indica- tion of forensic physiology, I would not do a thing without a precedent. But I prefer to find the limits of forensic physiology much narrower than they would be, if they should take-in all the matters to which I have alluded. I intend, indeed, to interweave with what I here present as strictly physiological, some examinations and discus- sions, which can hardly be regarded as "sounding" in physiology. FORESHADOWINGS. 113 But even if I had not here reserved this liberty, I would have imitated Carpenter in treating freely all the questions which present themselves to the Psychologist, whether considered as a (so-called) moralist, or as a (so-called) in- tellectual philosopher. One difference between my aim and that of Physiologists like Carpenter, will be apparent in a single statement. I have already pointed to the distinction taken by physiologists, between the Organic or Vegetative Life of Man, and his Animal Life, or Life of Relation. Now, at the outset, it appears, that in a distinctively forensic phys- iology, the functions of Organic or Vegetative Life would be less important than the functions of Animal Life. No such difference, perhaps, would be recognized by a medical physiologist. At all events, however, it is safe to say, that I expect to pay comparatively less attention to the func- tions of Organic or Vegetative Life than to those of Ani- mal Life. On the other hand, a physiology, distinctively forensic, must embrace some views of life, which physiology, as part of Medicine, does not include. As obviously, the forensic physiology cannot present minutely all that med- ical accounts and theories of life elaborate. How human life is reproduced in individuals, all phys- iology inquires. What regulations should be made with reference to the reproduction of life, forensic physiology adds to the questions asked in other physiologies. When life begins, all physiology attempts to ascertain. The duty of the government with reference to the protection of hu- man life, may be examined with peculiar interest in a forensic physiology. How life may be destroyed—how it may be affected beneficially or otherwise—are questions with which the medical physiology must be especially familiar. They are questions also of great interest in a forensic physiology. How life may be supplied with lib- 114 ARROGANCE IN ANTHROPOLOGY. erty of action, what should be the limits of its freedom, how it may pursue its objects, how its powers may be used in legal service, in the national defence, and otherwise in public duty—what may work a forfeiture of life, or of the liberty so dear to it—these questions also might, perhaps, be treated as belonging to a distinctively forensic view of life. I do not promise to pursue each line of exploration into science, which appears in the preceding statement. Hav- ing indicated, that I do not always reverence the learning which assumes the rank of systematic science, I will not proceed to what I purpose as towards a severely system- atic physiology. I have, throughout, endeavored to keep as far as possi- ble away from everything, which could mislead the reader into fancying, that I intend to claim exalted rank for my production. I intend, in what shall follow, to observe the policy with which I entered on my work. I shall avoid, with a peculiar care, all arrogance in offer- ing a physiology distinctively forensic. Such a physiology, as we shall see hereafter, and as we have partly seen al- ready, must be much conversant with the mind of man. In treating of the mind, we cannot be too careful to avoid all arrogance, all ostentation. Definitions, formal state- ments, scientific modes of composition, must appear but seldom in a treatise of the mind. It is hardly a matter of surprise, that the mind finds it exceedingly difficult to word its own idea or name its own notion of itself. Indeed, if it is the mind which sends thoughts along nerves, to become words or acts through grosser agencies; if to mind, nerves convey the signs or sensations of outward things, which it perceives — in a word, if it is mind which thinks, feels, and wills — the wonder is that it can see itself in itself so as to make of itself any verbal description whatever. We cannot wonder, if I may so express my thought, that the soul cannot so remove EMBARRASSMENTS OF METAPHYSICS. 115 itself out of itself as to make that microscopic scrutiny, without which no definition or description can be perfect. Says Dr. Reid: " It must, indeed, be acknowledged, that though it (the mind) is of all objects the nearest to us, and seems the most within our reach, it is very difficult to attend to its operations so as to form a distinct notion of them; and on that account, there is no branch of knowl- edge in which the ingenious and speculative have fallen into so great errors, and even absurdities. These errors and absurdities have given rise to a general prejudice against all inquiries of this nature. Because ingenious men have, for many ages, given different and contradict- ory accounts of the powers of the mind, it is concluded, that all speculations concerning them are chimerical and visionary. But whatever effect this prejudice may have with superficial thinkers, the judicious will not be apt to be carried away with it. About two hundred years ago, the opinions of men in natural philosophy were as various and as contradictory as they now are, concerning the powers of the mind. Gallileo, Torricelli, Kepler, Bacon, and Newton, had the same discouragement in their at- tempts to throw light upon the material system, as we have with regard to the intellectual." We have here, well indicated, one source, at least, of the errors and uncertain- ties of mind. Familiar with the " operations" of his mind, the thinker still finds it difficult to " form a distinct notion of them;" that is, a notion that can be made distinct in words. Attending to words, that he may overcome this difficulty, he attends, at first, less closely, and at last, not at all, to the mental operations themselves, proceeding to construct his theory on words rather than on things. I have once before glanced at this subject; but this reiteration is not unimportant. The infrequency of any thing resembling definition in this " physiology," may seem to some objectionable. I must excuse it, if I can. 116 DANGER OF DEFINITIONS. I am aware, that it has been supposed by Dr. Reid and others, that the definitive style might well be borrowed from mathematics by psychology. But we can point to many instances, in which severity of definition has almost rendered writers unintelligible. Still more frequently, a severely systematic work finds few readers. Imposing, architectural arrangements of language are, indeed, not seldom useful, and they are often beautiful. But all my purposes require me to avoid such arrangements of lan- guage, if, indeed, I am not quite incapable to make them. I have spoken thus far in the first person, and without pretension to oracular rights. I purpose to continue this mode of speech. I will not so arrange my sentences, I will not be so humbly modest, that the reader shall at any time imagine, that my utterances claim to be those of authority. Do you not know, that a writer may so avoid the vanity of egotism as to put on the air of speaking in the name of all philosophy ? Whenever I apparently forget this caution, let it be re- membered, that I do not arrogate the right to place my system in a fixed relation to the science known as posi- tive. There can be no valuable teaching of our nature, which, while it is attentive to the collection of all know- able facts, is not at the same time the reverse of arrogant in forming its deductions into system. Let us beware of dogmatism in the philosophy of human nature. Let us abhor the boldness of the anthropologist, who teaches us a perfect " system " in twelve lectures at a dime a head. Let us not fancy, that we can define what is above or otherwise beyond our power of definition. Signs of thoughts are seldom perfect pictures. We are not, in- deed, to hide what we have brought together as materials for scientific temples yet unbuilt. We may, without im- modesty, or injury to real science, make toy models of the structure to be erected. But if we forget that what we SOCIABLE DISPOSITION OF THE SCIENCES. 117 fashion and regard with interest, as our addition to the works of science, is only worthy of the rank which models hold when fashioned by the architect, we may find a rude disturbance of our dreams, and wake to find our fancied temple but a thing for sport or scorn.a One further prefatory observation may be proper. I have long endeavored to act upon the faith of Black- stone's maxim, that the sciences are of a sociable disposi- tion, and flourish best in the neighborhood of each other. To this maxim, I shall more than once refer in future chapters. I consider, that it cannot be too often pondered by the lawyer worthy of his calling. In the spirit of the maxim, I have long desired to make an effort such as this. This, truly, is an humble effort. But, whatever rank may be accorded to it in the world of books, its object should protect it from entirely hostile criticism. I am quite mistaken if an effort such as this, when earnestly made by one who does not love the truth less ardently than I have always loved it, can be quite indifferent to any true well-wisher of the scientific. This book is noth- ing less than an endeavor to shed the light of other sciences on legal learning, and to shed the light of legal science on other learning. In other words, it is an en- deavor to perform on legal science an operation similar to that performed on theology by a distinguished theologian. (a) " Man hat daher in wissenschaftlichen Dingen gerade das Gegentheil von dem zu thun, was der Kuenstler raethlich findet; denn er thut wohl sein Kunst- werk nicht oeffentlich sehen zu lassen, bis es vollendet ist, weil ihm nicht leicht jemand rathen noch Beistand leisten kann ; ist es hingegen vollendet, so hat er alsdann den Tadel oder das Lob zu ueberlegen und zu beherzigen, solches mit seiner Ertahrung zu vereinigen und sich dadurch zu einem neuen Werke aus- zubilden und vorzubereiten. In wissenschaftlichen Dingen hingegen ist es shon nuetzlich, jede einzelne Erfahrung, ja Vermuthung, oeffentlich mitzutheil- en, und es ist hoechst raethlich ein wissenschaftliches Gebaeude nicht eher auf- zufuehren, bis der Plan dazu und die Materialen allgemein bekannt, beurtheilt und ausgewaehlt sind." (Goethe. Der Versuch, als Vermittler von Object und Subject.) 118 LAW IN THE CIRCLE OF THE SCIENCES. It is an attempt to bring jurisprudence somehow into the circle of the other sciences.11 I cannot, indeed, flatter myself with the expectation of accomplishing this result as the learned theologian alluded to accomplished his purpose. He brought theology into the circle of the other sciences, " by showing how beauti- fully it is illustrated, supported, and adorned by them all;" by proving "how justly the philosopher should bow to her decisions, with the assurance, that his researches will only confirm them;" by demonstrating " the converg- ence of truths revealed with truths discovered." I expect, indeed, if I accomplish any part of my purpose, to show how beautifully jurisprudence is illustrated, supported, and adorned by all the other sciences. I expect to prove how justly the philosopher may turn to legal science as a body of important truth, which he may well consult, and of which he ought not to be ignorant. But I do not ex- pect to confer on jurisprudence the crown which I have already recognized as the true distinction of theology. The altar of justice may be elevated, but it is below the altar of God. When jurisprudence is adorned, supported, and illustrated by other sciences, it is not always the ob- ject of a voluntary worship. But all hearts not grown incapable of worship offer on the altar of religion all the choicest tributes of science. (b) Cardinal Wiseman, Connex. betw. Science and Revealed Relig. Sec. I. CHAPTER II. SOURCES OF FORENSIC PHYSIOLOGY. THESE observations I thought proper to submit in nearing legal science as an anthropology, because, in estimating it with reference to other anthropologies, I may not seem to treat it with such honor, as, regarded as a whole, it certainly deserves. A forensic physiology must honor legal science, and the art therewith connected. Yet the most devoted lover of the science illustrated in the legal Commentaries and Reports, will hardly venture to demand an elevated rank for the written science of the law, considered as an Anthropology, containing Phys- iology. The acts chiefly regarded by the law, with reference to the regulation of the artful life of man, are, indeed, acts of the body. For, though purpose, will, intention, are, when manifested in the operations of the body, properly considered as giving character to the corporeal acts; the overt act, the operation of the body, is the thing regarded by the law, when it commands or when it speaks in pro- hibition. Punishment, moreover, though intended to affect the mind, is operative in, and on, and through, the body. Nor can laws take note of injuries to life and limb without some knowledge of the body. Evidence of facts committed is derived from bodily supplies to one mind, 120 ANTHROPOLOGY OF LAW-BOOKS. through bodily deliverance of what another mind has taken into knowledge through the body. The body of the judge or juror furnishes to his mind the evidence de- livered through the body of the witness from his mind; just as it was through the body that the witness saw or heard what he delivers in his testimony. These, and other instances, would seem to show that legal science should embrace a physiology of no contemptible propor- tions. But the physiology of law-books, even if Fo- rensic Medicine be treated as a part of legal science, does not tell us much of body as the instrument and comple- ment of mind. Nor will the advocate of legal science as an Anthropol- ogy, discover in the law-books such a system of Psychol- ogy as may be found in Medicine. The operations and necessities, as well as the adorn- ment, of forensic art, would seem to call for a forensic system of Psychology. The logic and the rhetoric of forensic art should be conversant with the faculties of the human mind as well as with the corporeal part of our hu- manity. Indeed, as we shall see hereafter, lawyers are disciples of a distinctively forensic Philosophy, in which no despicable system of Psychology presents itself. But though, in the unformed Philosophy of which forensic ex- perts are disciples, much that might be added to the most valuable system of Psychology, may be encountered; law- books teach us comparatively little of Psychology, except as to the capacity to perform certain permissible acts, or to commit forbidden acts, or to enjoy certain rights. Moreover, not normal, but abnormal mind is chiefly the concern of the Psychology contained in law-books. And, even in respect of defective and abnormal mind, the law-books do not teach us all we ought to know. Nor is their teaching always accurate. This is the more remarkable, when we only glance at such a work as that of Blackstone. LEGAL VIEW OF INSANITY. 121 Here we find that legal science is a learning chiefly conversant with rights and wrongs. It nicely classifies them, and, with almost painful accuracy, points to their distinctive characters. We see, that if one will make him- self a lawyer of the school of Blackstone, he must soon become a reasoner, a nice distinguisher of differences, and a firm pursuer of the truth of things. So far, therefore, as in our physiology we are to be engaged with intellectual philosophy, we do not find that law books are unpromis- ing of light. But though, (as we shall see more clearly in another place,) among the rights defined, the right of life holds a conspicuous position, neither in the definition of that right, nor in examining provisions for the preservation of life, nor in inquiring when and how it has beginning, nor in treating of the means whereby it may be violently ended, do the law-books teach us what we might expect to find in them as parts of physiology. Two principal interests of legal science seem to point to a necessity for a more perfect anthropology than any we can now discover in the law-books. One of these relates to the capacity for what I have described as artful life, considered purely with reference to the performance of acts other than criminal. The other has relation to the cognizable states of mind in which commission of a crime is possible. As to the acts which most readily occur to recollection in this connexion, legal science is not silent. The capacity to make a deed is carefully examined in the law-books. The capacity to make a will is likewise scrutinized with great particularity. Indeed, I am inclined to look upon the anthropology of law-books with the feeling most re- sembling pride, when I consider what we find in them — especially in the Ecclesiastical Reports of England — on the subject of testation. But as I shall have occasion to remark hereafter, neither as to the capacity for making a 122 STARE DECISIS. devise nor as to that involved in making a deed, do we find in legal science all we might expect to find in it. Nor is it otherwise when we consider legal science, as it touches guardianship and interdiction. We cannot justly claim for legal science the distinction which it would deserve, if we could find in it a view of normal and abnormal mind, enabling courts to make the nice distinctions often necessary to decide respecting guardianship and interdiction, and to ascertain capacity for unrestricted competition in the artful life of legal order. And, I may be told, there is but little prospect of amend- ment. For, it may be said, as long as judges foolishly adhere to foolish precedents, there is no hope of true amendment in the law. I grant, that while the judges foolishly adhere to foolish precedents,- there is not much hope of true amendment in the law. But I will show, that all adherence to the settled rules of precedent is not to be disposed of by a rounded sentence. I will show, that as to all the modes of action pointed out by law, in which convenience rather than the sense of what is most harmonious with right according to the " law of nature," founds the rule of law,—for instance, in the law merchant, or commercial law — adherence to the precedented is a duty of the courts, which hardly any reasonable thinker can be brought to question. All this I will undertake to show in a proper connexion in Book Third. At present, I will only add a few consid- erations on this subject. I expect to indicate hereafter, instances in which there may be found occasions for judicial action, disregarding or correcting doctrines, which the precedents have honored. One of the important instances which I expect to notice has such a relation to the questions, which we have in mind at present, that I must refer to it in this connexion. The doctrine of insanity as judges are its teachers, stub- DOCTRINE OF IMPULSIVE INSANITY. 123 bornly resists corrections, offered to the law by medicine. I am not inclined to ridicule or to denounce this resistance as Ray and others have ridiculed or denounced it. I con- sider, that the doctrines of insanity which Ray and others have proposed to substitute for the legal doctrines, have been ill commended to the courts by some of those, who have attempted to secure their recognition in the ministry of justice. Ray, especially, has singularly sought to re- commend his doctrines, by displaying something very like contempt for legal learning. But I cannot therefore over- look the fact, that certain doctrines of insanity respected in the courts of justice, have been quite discredited by the investigations and discoveries of medical and other stu- dents of abnormal and disordered mental action. Carpen- ter, for instance, describes a form of insanity as emotional or impulsive, which, though not so named in common lan- guage, is familiar to the common mind. We have all seen, we have all shuddered at beholding, this particular descrip- tion of insanity. What it is, we find it difficult to say; but we have seen it in the purest and most pious of the sex, distinguished by its greater purity and piety. We have encountered it in children and in men of genius. It has been observed wherever delicate and sensitive organi- zations have attracted close attention. Liability to its attacks is not the fruit or the seed of crime. But judges, finding no description of it in the law reports of the great- est antiquity—not finding that it is described by Coke or Blackstone — set aside the testimony of their own self-in- trospection ; set aside the testimony of the learned who have studied it, and of the vulgar, who have long distin- guished it from crime; and stubbornly refuse to recognize it as distinguishable from malice, purpose, criminality. And their excuse deserves a fair examination. For, they tell us, if the doctrines of insanity here in question must be recognized as true, the recognition ought to be a legis- 124 "RIGHT AND WRONG TEST." lative act, and not a judicial one. They point to passages in Swinburne, Blackstone, and others, according to which it would seem that the law had attempted to define the forms of incapacity to make a will or to commit a crime. We are, indeed, as we have seen, informed by legal writers, that we may ascertain who may make a will or commit a crime, by ascertaining what descriptions of persons are designated by the law as incapable of testation, and irre- sponsible for crime. But are we to regard as settled law the anthropology of Coke, or Holt, or Blackstone ? Was it ever meant to settle as law, unalterable save by legisla- tive power, the definitions and descriptions of the incapac- ity to make a will or to commit a crime, which a defective knowledge long ago respected in the rude, imperfect min- istry of justice? This was evidently meant to be estab- lished as a law, unalterable save by legislative power: That whosoever shall, out of malice aforethought, kill another, shall be punished as a murderer; and this: That whosoever shall, in the commission of an act itself unlawful, kill another, undesignedly, or whosoever shall, upon a sud- den heat, voluntarily kill another, shall be punished for manslaughter. But it was not meant to be established as a law, reformable by legislative power only, that whosoever has capacity to see that what he does when he commits a homicide is wrong, and kills without the excuse of exciting circumstances, such as commonly create a sudden heat, but on an impulse, morbidly responsive to a homicidal thought, is guilty of aforethought malice, and must be treated as a murderer. Nor was it meant to be established as incon- trovertible in law, that the only test of the responsibility of one accused of crime, is to inquire, whether, when the act was done, he could discern that such an act was wrong. Before one shall be deemed a violator of the law, the law itself requires, that it shall be established that he had a free will to violate it. If it appear that the accused did not TRUE RULE OF PRECEDENT. 125 design to violate the law, his act is ranked with accidents, and not with crimes, however ill its consequences, even though it desolate a happy household, or lay waste a coun- try smiling with prosperity. Whatever shows that he had not a free will to violate the law, disproves the charge of malice as to one accused of murder—nay, whatever would show that will was overmastered in the given instance, was from the beginning a complete defence of one accused of any thing against the law. Now, if scientific theories establish, with sufficient certainty, that the impulsive or emotional in man may be diseased, without supposing any taint of crime, so that an act abhorred, avoided, fled from, when the thought of it presents itself to the mind in mo- ments of mental health, becomes, though still abhorred, fatally attractive to the impulses of the same mind, when these impulses become disordered; who shall say, that proof of an emotional, impulsive, or, as some prefer to call it, moral insanity, shall not be treated precisely as would be the proof of any other form of insanity? What judge can safely venture to inform a jury, in the face of such a case as I have hinted at, that if the act in question was the act of one who could and did discern that it was wrong, the actor is a violator of the law, and cannot be allowed to say, that a diseased condition of his impulses accounts for what he did? Can any judge declare, that by the common law all cases and varieties of mental alien- ation were considered, and the cases and varieties which should be regarded as inconsistent with crime, distinguish- ed, designated, and defined, with reference to an unalter- able rule ? Would not such a declaration wrong the past, as well as wound the present, of the law ? Did any of the worthies, who attempted, in the elder times, to name the marks, and specify the tests, of mental alienation, venture to assume infallibility, omniscience, or any other title, to perpetuate what they believed (or fancied) of disease in 126 SCIENTIFIC REFORMATION OF THE LAW. mind or body? Certainly, it would be a thing not quite so far removed from nonsense as judicial doctrine ought to be, gravely to limit the discoveries of science touching mental alienation, by a strict regard for precedent. A just regard for precedent would (for instance) carefully pre- serve the rule, that whosoever kills with malice afore- thought, is a murderer; but that were not a wise regard for precedent, which should determine that the common law had well defined all instances in which the presence of disease, rather than that of malice, may be detected. In a future chapter, I expect to show, that scientific theo- ries — though they be often wanting in regard for com- mon sense—have not entirely erred as to the required reform of legal rules, respecting mental disease. If I suc- ceed, I shall insist, that judges need not wait until the legislative power recognizes demonstrations made by sci- ence; but at least to the extent of recognizing emotional or impulsive insanity, as Carpenter describes it, may pro- ceed at once to honor science, and vindicate the vulgar faith—here harmonizing with most learned theories—by departing from the test, which many judges seem to think the only proper test, of mental alienation. CHAPTER III. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. I HAVE tried to state with fairness the defects of legal anthropology. Since, however, I may reasonably ex- pect to find errors and defects in medical as well as in legal treatises of mental alienation, of idiocy, and the like, and since not even physiology as due to medicine may prove quite perfect; we must not dispose ourselves to speak with absolute contempt of the anthropology of law-books. It may teach us moderation, in this particular, if we but remember, that Forensic Medicine itself, though chiefly cultivated by medical writers, fails to meet all reasonable expectations. Here, it may be proper to observe, that anxious as I am to widen the boundaries of legal science, and to magnify its value, I am not quite certain that I ought to treat the (so called) Medical Jurisprudence as a part of Forensic Jurisprudence. This doubt may be offensive, but it is not meant to be offensive. I am well inclined to recognize the misnamed Medical Jurisprudence as a body of science in the process of translation or transition from medicine to legal science. But I cannot think with those who not only treat it as part of legal science, but even as a part of the authorita- tive law itself. 128 FORENSIC MEDICINE. It is not because I doubt the value of the contributions made by medicine to legal science, that I hesitate to treat as a part of the latter what the former has set apart with reference to the improvement of forensic skill. I have already shown, and I shall show throughout the present work, a quite unfeigned respect for medicine. I freely own the obligations of legal science to the science culti- vated with reference to the cure of bodies, as well as to the science cultivated with reference to the cure of souls. But I cannot therefore consent to exalt the medical in science into such an estimation as does not belong to it, or to attribute to it a legal rank, which it has not yet at- tained. It is a fact of some significance in this connexion, that, although the work of Blackstone must have received the last touches of the author's learned pen as lately as the year 1769, there is no reference to Forensic Medicine in any part of the work. This is the more remarkable, because the Commentator was the grandson of an apothecary, and the brother of a physician. But, however well estated in other countries, Forensic Medicine had not been publicly acknowledged as a new or necessary branch of legal study, at the period when the Commentaries first appeared.* The writer who so annotates has added, " nor had the converse been at all acknowledged, namely, the propriety of medical men be- ing somewhat informed as to what the law may require shall be proved or adjudged upon their testimony. The elaborate works of Dr. Paris and of Dr. Smith, and of others treating forensic medicine at length, sufficiently show, that the faculty of physic may not unusefully apply themselves to the study of the law applicable to cases of death by apparently doubtful or suspicious means; to (a) See Lee's note (3) to 1 Bl. 14. " MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE." 129 cases of unsound mind; or to those where want of suf- ficient disposing power in a last illness might be evident or presumed." The annotator might at present add an- other note to Blackstone, dated as of to-day, and noting that in this particular the medical man and the lawyer have not so changed their conduct as the interests of legal science plainly require. Most lawyers have had, at bar, unpleasant reasons for the observation, that the medical expert often comes into court with a remarkably imperfect notion of his rights and duties as a witness. On the other hand, it is not to be questioned, that the lawyer may apply to testimony furnished by the experts of another calling an unfair, illiberal rule of estimation. Nay, he may be quite incapa- ble of giving such testimony its fair application. It is manifest, that the English and American method pf pro- ducing the testimony of experts is not a little answerable for the evils here alluded to. That method is inferior to the methods provided by the laws, wherever the Civil rather than the Common law has prominence in legal systems. It becomes the lawyer, the physician, the well wisher of the ministry of justice, whatever be the nature of his avo- cations, to employ his influence in favor of such legal " betterment," as will enable medical and forensic experts to meet on fair terms, and as will make it their interest to seek light rather than darkness in their encounters in the trial of causes. Law and Medicine, as I shall show hereafter, should not be unfriendly. But let us look a little more closely at Forensic Med- icine. The misnomer, Medical Jurisprudence, deserves some attention. If it stood alone, it would indicate what we have otherwise learned—namely, that the relations be- tween medicine and jurisprudence have been misunder- 9 130 CHITTY'S ACCOUNT. stood. "Medical Jurisprudence," says the pains-taking Mr. Chitty, "is the science by which anatomy, physiology, pathology, and surgery, and their collateral branches, are made subservient to the preservation of Public Health, and the Protection of the Person from injury, and to the formation, construction, elucidation, and administration of the laws, relative to the same subjects ; and it therefore resolves itself into two great divisions; namely, into Fo- rensic Medicine, comprehending the Evidence and Opin- ions necessary to be delivered in courts of justice relating to criminal and other matters to be there determined; and, secondly, into what has been termed, Medical Police, embracing the consideration of the policy and efficiency of legal enactments and regulations, for the purpose of preserving the general health and physical welfare of the community. It combines, as well an acquaintance with so much of medical science as is necessary for the eluci- dation of legal subjects and a knowledge of the existing law, and the rules of evidence as applicable in all cases where medical science and its subjects can become the object of inquiry in courts of justice. It is a combined view of the two sciences of law and physic, showing their mutual relevance." b The supposed combined view is very imperfectly taken in all the works of the so-called Med- ical Jurisprudence, with which I am acquainted. The nature of medical learning and of legal learning, the evi- dence of medical and legal facts, and the authority of medical and legal opinions, ought to be well displayed in a combined view of law and physic, showing their mutual relevance. But perhaps no work of Medical Jurispru- dence will enable the reader to take any such view. And, even if such a combined view should be taken by any writer, legal or medical, his would not be a work of Ju- (b) Chitty's Med. Jur. 4. LEGAL IGNORANCE OF FORENSIC MEDICINE. 131 risprudence, medical or other ; and it would also not be a work of Medical Science, forensic or other. A new name must be fitted to it. Medicine, not ceasing to be medi- cine, may be forensic; law, continuing to be law, may be medical. But the term Medical Jurisprudence is not used to signify the science of law cultivated for medical appli- cation ; but if it has any meaning at all, it signifies law medically cultivated for forensic application. Now such a cultivation of the law would be more curious than val- uable. But a forensic application of medicine and a medical application of law are things of conceivable ben- efit. So, in accordance with German usage, we should employ the designations, Forensic Medicine (Gerichtliche Medicin) and. Political Medicine (Staatsarzneikunde.)0 But, well named or ill named, Forensic and Political Medicine is a science whereof the English Lawyer has had little direct, and not a large incidental acquaintance. Nothing can be more absurd than most forensic " exhibi- tions," to use a medical word, of medical testimony. I confess, however, that only one of the works on Forensic Medicine (Chitty's book) appears to me to be readable by a lawyer, unless I make another exception in favor of Wharton & Stille's late work on Medical Jurisprudence. (c) Reil having suggested, that, although natural science may be applied to forensic uses, there can in truth be no Forensic Medicine, since Medicine really consists in the application of natural science to the art of healing, and cannot continue to be Medicine when, instead of the former application, it relates to the trial of causes; some writers have proposed the designations: Forensic Anthropology, Forensic Physics, Forensic Life-Observation Learning (Lebens- beschaulehre), etc. To the proposed change, Henke (Gerichtliche Medicin) objects, preferring the old name : 1. Because it is the old name, with which every one connects a definite idea, and we should not needlessly change names of art in established use ; 2. Because the proposed names are too narrow to designate the truths and teachings, drawn from all physical and medical learning, which the forensic medical-man requires, to furnish the explanations necessary to the elucidation of doubtful legal questions ; 3. Because many cases come into court, in which not Anthropology, not Natural Science, but only practical Medicine, the Medicine which belongs to the art of Healing, can furnish the key. 132 WHARTON & STILLE'S BOOK. Until lawyers consider anatomy, physiology, and the principles of medicine, as proper preparatory studies, I have little hope, that the medical works on Forensic Med- icine will prove of much real service to lawyers. There is a striking difference between the two professions in this respect. A lawyer must avail himself of medical science in the practice of his profession; but the practice of med- icine has no such dependence on the law. No medical man makes himself sufficiently familiar with the law to estimate the probable wants of the legal profession. Ac- cordingly we often find the medical treatises of forensic Medicine, dusty, unread, altogether neglected, on the upper shelves of the lawyer's library. When Mr. Wharton joined with Dr. Stille in the prepa- ration of a work, in which, as the preface informs us, it was designed to bring together " stereoscopically" the Legal and Medical points of vision, so that the informa- tion required by each profession might be collected and viewed at the same time and within the same compass," we were warranted in hoping, that the great defects of Chitty's book would be supplied. That Chitty's plan is substantially correct with reference to the endeavor to produce a work of Forensic Medicine, is, I think, admit- ted by most legal readers. That his execution is not equal to the execution of his other works, is quite as in- disputable. When, therefore, Wharton & Stille's book appeared, I hoped to find in it a method modeled after Chitty, and an execution leaving little to desire. I own that I was disappointed. Yet I would not undervalue what is really contained in the work alluded to. The book deserves the highest commendation. It was only not a bringing together of the Legal and Medical points of vision, such as I expected. It may be worth our while in passing to correct the error into which, as already intimated, the learned Mr. Wharton not inexcusably falls, respecting the opinions of THE COMMON LAW. 133 experts, and consequently as to the forensic rank of Fo- rensic Medicine. "The common law," says Mr. Wharton, "has been defined to be statutes worn out by time; it may more properly be treated as the precipitate of the wisdom of all ages, all professions, all countries. If a question is to be tried involving the most delicate point of mechanics, the testimony of experts is taken, and what they declare to be the law of philosophy, the judge declares to be the law of the land. If a question of marine right is to be determined, the mysterious laws of the sea are invoked— the «sweet influences of the Pleiades and the bands of Orion'—and as taught by science, they become part of the common law. And so on a trial where the question at issue was whether a certain species of fish was able to surmount obstacles by which a river had been dammed up by parties interested in the soil, it was held, that the observations of scientific men, versed in this particular topic, were part of the common law of the land for the specific case; and that therefore naturalists, who had given attention to the habits of this fish under such cir- cumstances, could be called to give their opinion on the merits.........And the great works of the masters in all professions, have become, also, part of the common law."d If Mr. Wharton had not been misled by language used by judges, I would hardly find it possible to understand how he could be betrayed into the error here apparent. Any one who only carefully considers how even judicial expositions of the law are tried by time and criticism and correction, ere they can be safely treated as a part of com- mon law, will see that Mr. Wharton errs in considering (d) Wharton & Stille Med. Jur. 36, note—referring to Cottrill v. Maton, 3 Fairf. 222. 134 palmer's case. as part of common law the often hastily expressed and ill-digested views of medical or other experts. In the case of William Palmer, indicted for poisoning, in England, some five or six years ago, a number of ex- perts testified in such a manner as seemingly to warrant quite unfriendly criticism. I read the medical report of what they said, and did not join in the severer censure with which their testimony was visited. But I noted at the time certain facts, the like of which may well induce the learned writer on whose error I am now remarking, to amend the language to which I allude. One of the witnesses, Thomas Blizard Curling, speak- ing of his own treatise of Tetanus, says : " When I wrote that book, I was a young man, twenty-two years of age. I have maturer judgment and greater experience now." Another, Professor Christison, author of the well-known work on Poisons, being interrogated in reference to opin- ions expressed by him in his book, " explained, that this work was written twelve years ago, and that the experi- ence he had since obtained had modified some of the opinions he then entertained." At present, I am disposed to confine myself to this instance, and thereupon to in- quire, whether the earlier or the later opinions of Mr. Curling or Professor Christison, or both the earlier and the later opinions, must be recognized as part of the common law ? The common law must have an ill-regu- lated disposition, indeed, if it will embrace not only all natural science but all theories in medicine and all the opinions of the scientific. Medical Jurisprudence, Foren- sic Medicine, or whatever be the name of the forensic ap- plication of medicine, cannot, I think, be added to any other title of the law than that of evidence—in which it stands not as a series of truths laid down as law, but as a body of science formed for the purpose of facilitating the investigation of doubtful questions of fact. FLOATING PHILOSOPHY OF THE BAR. 135 But even if Forensic Medicine could justly claim the rank to which certain writers would exalt it, it would still be quite unsafe for the forensic expert to rely upon it as completing forensic Anthropology. It is, indeed, but just to the work of Wharton and Stille to say, that if its teachings be but added to what common introspection teaches all of us of mind, and to what the observation of a busy yet reflective lawyer daily teaches him, the pro- duct may be no contemptible psychology. For, though the scope of the work alluded to does not embrace some things which in the plan of Chitty are presented to the legal mind, it is inclusive of a vast variety of learning, most for use, but some for ornament, which every legal mind must be exceedingly gratified to find in such a work. But, after all, the lawyer cannot safely overlook what life forensic and the studies it necessitates or makes attractive, furnish for the completion and illumination of forensic Anthropology. There is a learning, yet unformed, which I have ventured to denominate the Floating Philosophy of the Bar, and which deserves to be regarded by all students of a Physi- ology like that of which I shall attempt to indicate the outlines. I do not know that what I shall derive from this Phi- losophy will be apparently derived from such a source. I only know, that it is proper here to notice it, and to resolve to treat it with respect, if we shall chance from time to time to meet it in these explorations. The Forum is life in little. Lessons not to be learned in books,—lessons of all kinds,—high-life lessons and low- Jife lessons,—lessons from goodness and lessons from wick- edness,—lessons from courage and lessons from cowardice, —lessons from faith and lessons from falsehood,—teach the lawyer in the courts, if he be worthy of his calling. From books, the lawyer learns much of the mind and 136 FORENSIC LIFE OF LAWS. heart lore which makes up his peculiar philosophy; but more he takes from tradition, observation and experience. The school in which the lawyer must be profoundly learned, how superficial soever he may be in others, is that of action, insight, introspection, life. The mysteries of consultation, the conflicts of the forum, the trials and verdicts of the jury, are principal teachers of what the lawyer learns of nature and of law. This floating philosophy it is, which suggests the appli- cation to the service of the law of other sciences and arts. It becomes constantly more and more conversant with learning of all kinds, and skill of every description. It summons the experts of all trades and mysteries, the vota- ries of all science, the sages of every philosophy, to aid in the investigation of facts, and the administration of laws. Even religion sometimes seems to answer its invocation, in order to give solemnity to its proceedings and elevation to its art. Unformed and unpretending as it may appear, the Float- ing Philosophy of the Bar is the very life of the law—its active spirit and real force. In vain the most careful en- actments, if they only stain with dead signs the pages of a book. In vain doctrines of right, if right be not studied in its life-lessons, as these shine through the antagonism of passions in the conflicts of society. This philosophy takes large notice of that antagonism, and has much to do in the quieting of those conflicts. Derived from books and from experience and observation alike, it is another proof that books are not the all-in-all of knowledge. There is a daily necessity, and a constant habit, in the courts, of trying men by face, figure, bearing, look, and tone — of looking through the body into the mind. But there is also a constant necessity, respected in practice, of correcting the judgments so formed, and making allowances for the possible errors in calculating the worth of bodily SOURCES OF FORENSIC PHILOSOPHY. 137 indications, and finding the meaning of what is purely physical in manner, tone, and look of a party, a witness, or a juror. The forum then brings man face to face with man—man in the body as well as man in the mind. The forensic ex- pert does not, indeed, attempt to describe with scientific precision the marks of villainy, or the signs of honesty, the manifestations of an observant, intelligent mind, or the indications of a weak, wandering and worthless dis- position, which speak of the inward through the outward man. But the expert in legal science and art constantly acts on a belief in the reality, and a confidence in the trust- worthiness, of what, in a forensic observation, the body informs us of the mind. The juror, who is to be accepted or rejected; the witness, who is to be credited or tried as by fire ; each passes the ordeal of a judgment by inspec- tion. But we must not forget that, however wide the range of the learning contained in the books, or available in the practice, of the law, the forensic philosophy is a part of general knowledge, not the sum of science. Imperfec- tions will be apparent, as, throughout the present work, it is encountered and contrasted or compared with other kinds of learning or of speculation. I shall perhaps, here- after, devote a little space to the consideration of its influ- ence on the development of character. But for the pres- ent, I desire to indicate its sources, in order to subject the latter to such scrutiny as may contribute to prepare our minds for the investigations into which we are about to enter. The experts of the Floating Philosophy of the Bar find its sources, at the present day, I. In the symbolical books of the law; that is to say, the codes, charters, constitutions, statutes, and reported 138 ANTICIPATED OBJECTIONS. decisions of courts, which may be considered as authori- tative, and, therefore, representative expositions of law. II. In commentaries on the law and unreported decis- ions, or reports of decisions not received as symbolical. III. In theology, in moral (considered as including met- aphysical) philosophy, and in political economy. IV. In the medical science (and speculation) of phys- ical and psychical man. V. In parts of all the other sciences, which, though not formed for forensic use, are, in part, of forensic appli- cability. VI. In the mirror of life contained in history, poetry, the noveL, criticism, and general literature. VH. In the observation of popular manners, customs, and modes of thought. VIII. In familiarity with the art with which it is most intimately blended. FX. In the conversation of lawyers. X. In personal experience and self-study. This statement of the sources whence the Floating Phi- losophy of the Bar derives its light, may meet exceptions even on the part of lawyers. Others may object, that such a range of vision as I here attribute to the lawyer never yet was taken by forensic experts. Lawyers may object that such a range would take from legal vision its capacity for concentrated observations. Learned but illib- eral disciples of the law may, indeed, resort to many " Wise saws and modern instances," in order to show that I am indicating to the student of the law a course of study frowned upon by all the " author- ities." I may as well encounter here as elswhere these objec- tions, and all others which I may anticipate. POLITY AND JURISPRUDENCE. 139 Among the sources of the Floating Philosophy of the Bar, I have discerned Political Economy. I refer to this at present because such a reference will enable me to en- counter at once what I regard as the most formidable assault ever made on the pretensions of forensic philos- ophy. I do not venture to assert, that lawyers are, in general, acquainted intimately with the science of Political Econ- omy. For their general want of acquaintance with much of the contents of that science, however, it is not difficult to account. We may hereafter have occasion to observe the law dis- tinctively political, accompanied in its development by the development of Polity, considered as a science. We may witness the development of the law distinctively forensic —part of which is at first distinctively political—accom- panied by the development of Forensic Science. We may speculate, as we witness these developments concerning imperfections in the science of pure polity, and in the science which grows up in courts. Among these imper- fections, we must think, are many due to the fact, that the political science and the forensic science of law have been developed separately. Polity would seem inclusive naturally of the several distinguishable sciences, which may be classed as legal. And Jurisprudence—or Forensic Science—would seem inclusive of the science, not only of what is the law, but why it is.e Polity should be a perfect jurisprudence—jurisprudence should include the whole of Polity. (e) " Die Rechtswissenschaft (jurisprudentia) is die Wissenschaft der im Staate durch die Obrigkeit erzwingbaren Rechtsnormen, nach ihren Gruenden und Quellen. Die blosze Kenntnisz der in einem Staate geltenden Rechte und Gesetze verdient daher noch nicht den Namen Rechtswissenschaft, sondern ist blosze R e c h t s und Gesetz kunde. Den Namen einer Wissen- schaft verdient die Rechtskenntnisz erst dann, wenn mit ihr auch Philosophic und Geschichte des Rechts verbunden ist." Lehrbuch des heutigen Roemischen Rechts, von Dr. Ferdinand Mackeldey. Vol. 1, p. 10, § 9. 140 WHAT POLITY OUGHT TO BE. Polity may seem to be, with great propriety, developed separately from jurisprudence, because the former is con- versant rather with the duties of the State than with the duties of the individual; and Jurisprudence is conversant rather with the duties of the individual than with the duties of the State. But duties of the individual are such as polity expressly orders or allows to be established as a part of Law; and in ordering or allowing and enforcing these consists the whole of polity. For among individual duties are the duties which connect the individual with the community, embodied in the State. When, therefore, polity has ascertained and enforced the duty of each indi- vidual towards the State, and has ordered or allowed and enforced the duties of each individual towards his fellows in society, its task is perfectly accomplished. All the duties of the State are then performed. But to know the duties of the State, of which we thus perceive the character, is evidently to know the whole of Jurisprudence. All the duties of forensic life are evidently either duties of the individual towards the State, or duties of the individual towards his fellows. All these duties, therefore, are of great concern to polity. On the other hand, the science of the law, developed out of the experiences of life in courts of justice, and con- nected with the art there practiced, is a science of the duties of the State—the limits of its powers and the na- ture of the laws which it may make a part of the order ruling the artful life of man—as well as, and even because it is, a science of the duties springing out of individual relations. These considerations serve to show that polity, when perfect, must include the whole of jurisprudence; and that jurisprudence, perfect, must include the whole of polity. But, looking chiefly now towards the history of Law in WHAT IT IS. 141 England and America, we may observe, that men have reached the highest honors of political philosophy, with- out attempting even to become familiar with the science of the law, as it has been developed in the courts. I do not know, that I can truly add, that men have reached the highest honors of forensic philosophy without attempting to become familiar with the science known as polity. In England, it would seem, that men distinguished at the bar, and there distinguished as not narrow minded or illiberal, but liberal and noble minded, have not seldom failed to take the highest rank of statesmen when admit- ted into Parliament. To account for the apparent unfitness of distinguished lawyers, for performing duty in the legislative province of the government, appeal is often made to what was said by Edmund Burke, concerning law and lawyers as law makers. "What Burke said of Mr. Grenville—two men in this respect the very antipodes of each other —is worthy of being borne in mind by every young lawyer, be his preten- sions at starting what they may: < Sir, if such a man fell into errors, it must be from defects not intrinsical; they must be rather sought in the particular habits of his life; which, though they do not alter the groundwork of char- acter, yet tinge it with their own hue. He was bred to the law; which is, in my opinion, one of the first and noblest of human sciences —a science which does more to quicken and invigorate the understanding than all the other kinds of learning put together; but it is not apt, ex- cept in persons very happily born, to open and to liberalize the mind exactly in the same proportion.'"f I do not overlook what follows, touching office life__ the office life of statesmen. For the present, I will only meet the sentence which apparently degrades from philo- (f) Warren's Law Studies, Ch. IV. 142 NARROWNESS OF LEGAL MINDS. sophic rank the lawyer's learning of the nature and the laws of God's most perfect work. Let it be admitted that the science, " which does more to quicken and invigorate the understanding than all the other kinds of learning put together," is " not apt, except in persons very happily born, to open and liberalize the mind exactly in the same proportion." Of what occupa- tion can it with truth be said, that, whatever its tendency to sharpen or to strengthen the mind, it tends exactly in pro- portion to the tendency supposed, to give the mind enlarge-' ment, openness, or freedom from the prejudice of class or caste ? Let us not arrogate too much for the law; let us not meanly and cowardly confess the judgment, which delivers it to contempt. The studies and pursuits of him, who looks to the prac- tice of the law for revenue or renown, are not the only narrowing experiences of this life. " All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame," have more or less power, and enter more or less into the character of individuals in society, according to the selec- tion they make of means for supporting life, or indulging taste, or satisfying their ambitious wishes. Few live in the pure air and unclouded light of mere philosophy. Of all our callings may be said what Burke pronounced of the law—if they " do not alter the groundwork of char- acter," they " yet tinge it with their own hue." The truths thus brought before the reader are of more than common interest to the forensic student. Not alone, indeed, because they warn him against a devotion too ex- clusive to his chosen studies and the habits of forensic life; but also with a view to practice in the courts. How wit- nesses are turned in this direction or the other by the ten- FAMILIARITY WITH FORMS. 143 dencies of occupation—how the blacksmith and the mer- chant differ in the view they take of life — how all the media of observation take some color from the habits of observers—these are matters of great moment in the con- tests of the bar. We may freely acknowledge that the habits of the law- yer's life do narrow and peculiarize his sphere of thought. But with a sole exception, we may well deny, that any other calling is less narrowing to the mind than that of the lawyer. The exception intended is not an exception of the call- ing of the statesman. If polity were what it should be, politicians might well claim a higher philosophic rank than that accorded to the lawyer. For, as we have seen already, polity is naturally representative of all interests, considerative of all duties, and related to all affections. But Mr. Burke has almost pictured polity in picturing a politician. Speaking still of Mr. Grenville, the philosopher, (who himself, perhaps, " Narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind,") continues thus: " Passing from that study,s he did not go very largely into the world, but plunged into business. I mean into the business of office—and the limited and fixed methods and forms established there. Much knowledge is to be had, undoubtedly, in that line; and there is no knowledge which is not valuable. But it may be truly said, that men too much conversant in office, are rarely minds of remarkable enlargement. Their habits of office are apt to give them a turn to think the substance of busi- ness not to be much more important than the forms in which it is conducted. These forms are adapted to ordi- nary occasions ; and, therefore, persons who are nurtured (g) The study of the Law. 144 RANK OF JURISPRUDDNCE. in office do remarkably well, as long as things go on in their common order; but when the high roads are broken up, and the waters out—when a new and troubled scene is opened, and the file affords no precedent — then it is that a greater knowledge of mankind, and a far more ex- tensive comprehension of things is requisite than ever office gave, or than office can ever give." h This picture of a placeman's life displays the narrowing of mind, to which the politician's way of life has a marked tendency. But other pictures might be drawn, less favor- able than the picture drawn by Burke. The bigotry of form is not the only blemish in the character of statesmen. Party prejudices narrow mind far more than any other prejudices—and it is in politics that party flourishes. It is divinity to which I point when I declare that I know of but one vocation in which less narrowing of the mind can be involved than is involved in strict devotion to forensic life. The vocation itself of the divine may dispose the mind to a larger and more liberal contempla- tion of all that lies before us in this mortal sphere, than that which any other calling favors. Theology is naturally the containing science or philosophy of all the other sci- ences and philosophies. And whether it contains at pres- ent more than the merest principles of other sciences, or is inclusive only of those principles, the objects it proposes to contemplation and affection are certainly such as can- not be contemplated or affected by a narrow mind, without to some extent enlarging that mind. The whole earthly circle of the Good, the True, and the Beautiful, falls within the sphere of the Good, the True, and the Beautiful, with which theology is conversant. While, however, I thus recognize the pre-eminence of theology, I cannot allow any other science to take a place (h) Warren's Law Studies, Ch. IV. FORENSIC ART. 145 between jurisprudence and theology. Others may aspire to a place beside jurisprudence; none, I think, can take a place above her. She may not be what she has sometimes ventured to call herself—the knowledge of things divine and human, the science of the just and the unjust—-but she is a philosophy of the Good, the True, and the Beau- tiful, only less heavenly, only more " of the earth, earthy," than the Good, the True, and the Beautiful of theology. The forum, I repeat, is life in little. All the operations of man's artful life, all sciences, all interests, are touched by legal forces, forced to serve the ministry of justice, or compelled to own the power of the law. To be concerned as expert in the ministry of laws is eminently favorable to the taking of enlarged and liberal views of all the wide extent and all the wonderful variety of man's activity. All types of human character are present in the courts, to judge, to advocate, to witness, or to be subjected to the judgment of the law. Accordingly, the lawyer worthy of the name is no " mere lawyer." He must be a true phi- losopher. But now it may be objected, that a close examination of the art peculiar to the courts of justice, will deprive the Floating Philosophy of the Bar of much that I have alleged in its favor. Here, I may be told, is the art which stands to the philosophy in question just as the science of any thing stands to the art of the same thing. And here, it may be added, is a mean and sordid art, which good men hate, and wise men seek to dispense with. Nay, good lover of the Good, the True, the Beautiful: "Be not so curst!" Remember well—examine carefully—and tell me where, and in what interest and way of life, you find less sordid- ness and greater liberality of soul:—if you can find the one or the other save where you descry 10 146 TRIAL OF A CASE. " a preacher such as Paul, Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own," then I abandon to your unsparing censure life forensic, with its judges, barristers, and all. Let us examine here, as challenged, this same art, pecu- liar to the courts of justice. We have glanced at it al- ready. Let us now return to the forensic scene of our first observation, and subject the art there practised to a closer observation. A case is called for trial. It has a plaintiff and defend- ant, not speaking for themselves, but represented by per- sons, evidently expert in the art, whatever it may be, of which the scene before us is the place of operation. A jury is chosen. It is sworn to find its verdict, or true- word. The testimony of witnesses, we observe, only reaches the understanding, or lodges in the memory, or is submitted to the will, of the final triers, after it has been subjected to the following tests: 1. The oath of the witness. 2. The questions in examination and cross-examination. 3. The rulings of the court as to its competency, and its quantity. 4. The arguments of counsel. 5. The charge of the court. And what lawyers call the cause is only brought to its final determination when, having been subjected to the first test of & forensic logic in the written " pleadings," and the further tests just brought under notice, it has passed through the intelligence, the power of recollection, and the conscience of its final triers. The body plays no inconspicuous part in all the opera- tions just described. And when those Operations are en- gaged in reproducing, as it were, the facts to which the judgment is intended to apply, the part which body had in the occurrence of these facts, as well as in the lodge- TEACHINGS OF FORENSIC ART. 147 ment of the knowledge of them in the memory of wit- nesses, appears as an obviously important part. Each utterance of human voices in the hall of justice, speaks of body acting with and for what is within body. Rhetoric attains its highest power, when the body of the reasoner, responsive to the action of his mind, expresses, in the grace or force of sound and gesture, what the mind has formed for simple beauty, or would use as a consuming fire. While the rapid speech is rushing on its course, the mind and body of the speaker seem but one and indivis- ible. What a study, then, is the connexion between mind and body! How wonderful at such a moment blood, with its conducting arteries, and veins, and capillaries; nerves, with their connexions at the brain and at the muscle; muscles with the bones they wield as weapons, or employ as instruments of peaceful forces; all the various and powerful yet delicate machinery of human nature, quick- ened in 'its action by the glowing thoughts, which voice and gesture, trained by human art, are telegraphing from the one mind to the many. The daily familiarity of lawyers with the art in which these wonders are exhibited, cannot but teach forensic ex- perts something of the sympathy between our bodily and mental conditions, and the harmony between the powers of the body and the powers of the mind. Nor can an art like that we have been contemplating be en- tirely destitute of light for such investigations as we now approach so nearly. I do not, indeed, consider the forensic art in some respects precisely as it has appeared to others. Writers have distinguished a forensic logic in the science and art of pleading, such as bears a close comparison with syllo- gistic reasoning. I do not find in the pleader's logic all that others have discovered in it. But I discern in the art peculiar to 148 lawyers' logic and rhetoric. courts of justice, taken as a whole, a logic and a rhetoric, reminding us of logic and rhetoric as Mr. Mill defines them. The office of the logician, according to that writer, is to examine the operations of the understanding, which are subservient to the estimation of evidence; Logic, itself, being nothing more or less than the science of those operations. "The sole object of Logic," according to Mr. Mill, "is the guidance of one's own thoughts." Rhetoric, on the other hand, is concerned with the presentation of our thoughts, including logical results of reasoning, to other minds. Such, if I understand the views of Mr. Mill, is the substance of his opinion.1 Now, having seen the art peculiar to the courts of jus- tice in a view, which shows how it reveals the intimate relation of the human body with its tenant mind, we may observe it in another light. It here appears as the art of making cases for judicial determination, of presenting them for that determination, and of applying to them the principles by which they ought to be determined. It therefore includes: First: A forensic Logic, which, still keeping Mr. Mill's definition before us, we may define as the science of the operations of the understanding, which are subservient to the estimation of the evidence produced in forensic trials. Second: A forensic Rhetoric, to make that estimation known and acceptable to the final triers and judges of the facts, and of the rules of law or right ap- plicable to those facts. Third: The learning, belief, or knowledge estimated by that logic, and prepared for com- munication in that rhetoric. It contains, then, the science and art of presenting cases for determination by courts — and this is, at present, its distinguishing operation and significance. (i) The communication of our thoughts to others is represented by the logi- cian as falling "under the consideration of Rhetoric, in the large sense in which that art was conceived by the ancients; or of the still more extensive art of education." System of Logic, 3. HISRORY OF A CASE. 149 To present and to conclude a case is, in general, first, to bring those concerned in its determination into the place of its intended trial; or to give them the opportunity of being there; second, to make the accusation, complaint, or demand, of the party plaintiff; or to answer or defend such accusation, complaint or demand; third, to produce the evidence relating to the cause; fourth, to compare or contrast the things offered in evidence with the written pleadings or with each other; fifth, to ask for the proper verdict or judgment; sixth, to carry that judgment into effect. The requirement of the new codes, that the com- plaint or demand shall be made before the party defend- ant is summoned, does, indeed, alter the order of proceed- ings just given; but that is not at all important to our immediate purposes. The first notable application of the forensic logic is to the legal estimation of the facts presented to the lawyer by way of accusation or complaint, supposing them prov- able. The first notable application of the forensic rhetoric is in the statement of those facts, in the written pleadings. I need not notice the application of logic and rhetoric to the answer, defence, or abatement of the suit or prosecu- tion. But when the logic of the adversary has subjected each of these pleadings to the estimation of the con- sistency of the facts with each other, and of their legal cogency with reference to the judgment asked on the one side or the other; and when the forensic rhetoric has brought that estimation into favor or the contrary with the court; when the pleadings are at last so made up that the proof of the facts is next in order, the forensic logic and the forensic rhetoric have a wider field and a more exciting contest. All the illustrative knowledge of the disputants as well as the testimony of the witnesses, be- comes subject to the peculiar logic of the forum and the characteristic rhetoric of the lawyer. 150 APPEAL TO THE LIVES OF LAWYERS. It seems to me, that glimpses such as these of the pe- culiarities of forensic art and science, added to the view which we shall take hereafter of the Commentaries and Reports most honored in the Courts of Justice, must es- tablish all I claim in favor of the Floating Philosophy of the Bar. But we are all so deeply interested in the character of that Philosophy—it touches all the interests of life so often —it is so entirely unconfined in influence to the contracted scene in which it seems to move — all hearts and homes are visited so nearly by the forces it directs — that I am anxious to encounter all the forms in which it has ever been formidably attacked. Lawyers have too often preached from the forensic pul- pit sermons not acceptable to the self-love of society—they have, too often, done the work of operative moral surgery — to be without a host of censors. We have not yet done with the objections to the character I have assigned to the Floating Philosophy of the Bar. It is or may be next objected, that I cannot prove by examples, what I have asserted as to the forensic range of studies and of observations. If I may be heard with patience, I will quiet this ob- jection with the others. It is an abuse of language to speak as Lord Campbell has written of the great old lawyer, Chief Justice Holt. " Of all the Judges in our annals," says Lord Campbell, " Holt has gained the highest reputation, merely by the exercise of judicial functions. He was not a statesman, like Clarendon; he was not a philosopher, like Bacon; he was not an orator, like Mansfield; yet he fills nearly as great a space in the eye of posterity; and some enthu- siastic lovers of jurisprudence regard him with higher veneration than any English Judge who preceded or has followed him.......But there is no absolute incompatibil- Campbell's life of holt. 151 ity between the profoundest knowledge of jurisprudence and any degree of culture and accomplishment. We can conceive that Holt, like Somers, might have been Presi- dent of the Royal Society, and a member of the Kit-Cat Club. But he seems to have been wholly unacquainted with the philosophers and wits who illustrated the reigns of King William and Queen Anne; and Steele, who cele- brates him in the Tatler, evidently speaks of Verus only as an idol whom he has seen and worshipped from a dis- tance. We are left to conjecture as to his habits, and his talk must have been of ' contingent remainders.' Yet he is the first man for a * mere lawyer' to be found in our annals. Within his own sphere, he shone with unrivalled brightness."j If, indeed, Lord Campbell himself had not rendered absurd his own " conjecture," that Holt's talk must have been of contingent remainders, and in like manner discredited the use he attempts to make of the fact that Holt did not associate with the Queen Anne wits and philosophers, we might allow that Holt was a rare in- stance of renown acquired " merely by the exercise of ju- dicial functions," and that he was only the first of " mere lawyers." But even if every true lawyer, American and English, had not better learned the lesson of Holt's great- ness from the good sense, the breadth, the strength, of his opinions; even if Macaulayk had not informed us, that, when made Chief Justice, Holt was " a young man, but distinguished by learning, integrity and courage;" Lord Campbell himself has put his own description of Holt, in the passages cited (supra), beyond justification. Refer- ring to what is said of an early period in Holt's life, the learned Whig biographer of the Whig Judge who was not a mere partisan, uses the following language : " It is said, that during the whole of this time he was remarka- ble for being idle and mischievous — a statement which I (j) 2 Chief Justices, 99, 100, 137. (k) III Eng. 18. 152 ABILITIES OF HOLT. entirely disbelieve. * The boy is the father of the man,' and though there may be a supervening habit of dissipa- tion—which may be conquered—the devoted application to business, the unwearied perseverance, and the uniform self-control, which characterized Sir John Holt, could only have been the result of a submission to strict discipline in early youth."1 Lord Campbell is a singularly inconsistent writer, though his "Lives" place the profession under deep and lasting obligations. He says in another place,m "Unfortunately, we have no particular account of the manner in which he (Holt) rendered himself so consum- mate a jurist. ' Moots' and ' Readings,' at the Inns of Courts, were going out of fashion ; and the ponderous common-place book, by which every student was expected to make out for himself a Corpus Juris Anglicani, was, since the publication of Rolle and other compilations, thought rather a waste of labor. I suspect, that, after acquiring a knowledge of practice from his attorney tutor, young Holt improved himself chiefly by the diligent pe- rusal of well selected law-books, and by a frequent attend- ance in the Courts at Westminster when important cases were to be argued. By an intuitive faculty, not to be found in your mere black-letter lawyer, he could distinguish genu- ine law, applicable to real business, from antiquated rub- bish, of no service but to show a familiarity with the Year Books. He made himself master of all that is useful in our municipal code, and, from his reasoning in Coggs v. Barnard, and in other cases, it is evident that he must have thoroughly imbued his mind with the principles of the Roman civil law. If he once took delight in classical studies, he now renounced them; and he never wandered into philosophy, or even cared much about the polite lit- erature of his own country. But he mixed occasionally in general society, and picked up much from conversation; so (1) 2 Ch. Jus. 100. (m) Op. cit. 102 WAS HOLT A MERE LAWYER? 153 that he was well acquainted with the actual business of life, and had a keen insight into character. His mother- wit was equal to his clergy." The suspicions and conject- ures of Lord Campbell are at war with his facts. Here is a man who certainly was irregular in his youth, as, not- withstanding the denial of what is asserted of his boy- hood, his noble biographer has expressly admitted. He reforms, without vow, but in earnest. He applies ardently to the study of the law, and his moral conduct becomes altogether irreproachable.11 All we know after that, is, that he mixes in general society, picks up much in conver- sation — proves in all that he shows of himself, that his " mother-wit is equal to his clergy " — that " to unsullied integrity and lofty independence," he adds " a rare com- bination of deep professional learning with exquisite com- mon sense"0—and so bears himself as man and as Judge, that the lovers of jurisprudence traditionally perpetuate his name as the first and greatest of English Judges, and the traditions of the people keep him in an honorable re- membrance, such as they seldom give to the memory of lawyers. Notwithstanding these known facts, notwith- standing his own acknowledgment, that " the manner in which Holt rendered himself so consummate a jurist," is not known to us by any " particular account;" without giving any proof that Holt ever entirely renounced the classics, or that he never wandered into philosophy, or even that he was really indifferent to the polite literature of his country; and in the face of the declaration, that, at a later period of his life, " we are left to conjecture as to the habits of Sir John;" the learned biographer, who has also expressed his grief that " we know so little of Holt in private life," suspects and conjectures enough to make Holt a mere lawyer. I am not disposed to admit the va- lidity of such suspicion and conjecture. I would point to (n) Op. cit. 102. (o) Op. cit. III. 154 HOLT WAS NO MERE LAWYER. Holt as the greatest of English judges, to justify the qual- ification I would make of Burke's remark on the narrow- ing effect of legal studies, and to enlarge the exception he makes of the " happily born." I do, emboldened by the example of Holt, take leave to qualify that sentence of Burke. I venture to say, that the science of the law is not apt, except in those who are happily born, or liberally bred to its cultivation, to enlarge and liberalize the mind exactly in the same proportion in which it quickens and invigorates the understanding. This qualification admits the substantial justness of Burke's observation. Having selected the instance of Holt to justify that qualification, however, I must allow that Holt was one of the " happily born." Nature pointed out for him the vocation he so illustrated. But the most valuable objects I have in view require me to make it clear, that this greatest of English Judges was no mere lawyer. If Holt was, indeed, only " the first" of "mere lawyers," judgment may go against my book. I have already inti- mated that even such a lawyer as Mr. Warren has describ- ed as belonging to the class of mere lawyers, would fully justify the observation of Mr. Burke, if strictly limited to such as he. And I may as well explain, that I discern several ranks of mere lawyers, in none of which can I consent to place Holt. Lowest of all is that mere lawyer, who deserves all the odium ever cast upon the disciples of the law. He is the lawyer who seems to warrant the pen of satire, and inspire the pencil of caricature. He alter- nately fixes the finger of scorn, and provokes the laughter of ridicule. He is too poor a devil to bear serious discus- sion. He may be painted — all monsters, even those of meanness, may be painted. He may be disgraced in the drama as Mark Meddle, or made contemptible in the novel as Mr. Quirk. Pity or the pillory can alone be due to such a character. But the mere lawyer is not always MERE LAWYERS. 155 so mean or so low. There is another kind, of which the representative man seems base, when he does not mean un- worthily. Such a lawyer, indeed, does not even aspire to greatness. He does not concern himself with the reason or spirit of laws. He fancies that he can find the law without finding its reason. He is industrious, and success- ful in getting employment. He often gains causes — be- cause a well employed lawyer must have many obviously good causes. But the " goodness " claimed for such a man by Mr. Warren can only be verdicted in his favor, after full proof of his partial insanity. It is, indeed, of such lawyers as he, that the strongest dislike exists in every community—and not without reason, or the show of rea- son. But there is a mere lawyer, who aims higher. He may come to be a Chief Justice, like Coke or Kenyon. But even with such examples of the varieties, which are to be discerned in the observation of mere lawyers, clearly noted and fairly contemplated, I beg leave to say, that the mere lawyer is, in general, neither remarkably useful nor overwhelmingly amiable. The truth of this will appear, when we consider the law as the direction of force in the affairs and upon the minds and bodies of men; when we remember that such a force, wrongly directed, must always prove the worst foe to right and to truth; when, informed by such facts as have already been referred to, we take note of what the narrowed mind of the mere lawyer may do to give a wrong direction to that force of the law in the affairs and upon the minds and bodies of men. The law is pushed to extremity by the mere lawyer, when the action of courts will rather work oppression than make the wrong right. When the mere lawyer is allowed to legislate, he is generally found to legislate, " not wisely but too well." If, indeed, " All constraint Except what wisdom lays on evil men Is evil," 156 HOLT AGAIN. the mere lawyer should never be law maker, or judge under the law. All power in the hands of the narrow- minded is dangerous; it is arrogant and oppressive, to the point of enkindling resistance—fearful and powerless when that point is reached. The mere lawyer, again, may be learned; but not as Sir John Holt was learned. He may have integrity; but his integrity is not that which charac- terized Holt. He may have courage; but his courage would not have supported him in a contest like that of Holt with the Parliament. It is well to assure ourselves of these things. It is well to assure ourselves, that no mere lawyer can be a Sir John Holt either in merit or in reputation. And it is well to understand, in what sense it is necessary to be " happily born " in order to escape the application of Mr. Burke's animadversion on legal science. He is happily born to be a lawyer, who is born with a mind, large, liberal, strong, and brave. In that sense, Holt was, indeed, happily born. Let it be granted, that the boy at the Abingdon Free School was idle and mischievous—a statement which Lord Campbell entirely disbelieves. Let it stand for history, that at Oxford, he was guilty of great irregularities. " His biographers represent him as copying Henry V, when the associate of Falstaff, and not only indulging in all sorts of licentious gratifications, but actually being in the habit of taking purses on the highway. They even relate that many years after, when he was going the circuit as Chief Justice, he recognized a man, capitally convicted before him, as one of his accomplices in a robbery, and that, having visited him in gaol, and inquired after the rest of the gang, he received this answer: * Ah, my Lord, they are all hanged but myself and your Lordship.'" Let these stories, like that of the charm he used to pay his bill, when on one of his unlicensed rambles, and of its conse- quences to himself and the old witch, in after life, be be- lord Campbell's life again. 157 lieved, with some allowance for exaggeration. But, though such a preparation for a good and useful life is one not to be imitated, let it not be forgotten, that the errors of which it was in part made up, were those of a man, who proved that he had " the virtue to repent, and the energy to atone." After that proof, his errors, even, were teachers of philosophy. Born a few months after the first work of Hobbes was printed for private circulation, he was old enough when put under the care of the sober attorney, bold enough by nature, and taught enough by experience, to estimate rightly the doctrines of the Leviathan. I sub- mit, that there is no proof and no probability, that such a work was unread by the young student of law and gov- ernment. Locke's Essay, however, was not published until a year after Holt was made Chief Justice. Of Bacon's works, he may have been a student, or he may have been ignorant. The memory of Bacon's vices was too green in the minds of men for the interests of his philosophy. Whatever vices, moreover, may be imputed to Holt, they were of a kind to make him despise Bacon, unless he should forget the man in the philosopher. These things being considered, it may not be rash or unsafe to admit that Holt " seems to have been wholly unacquainted with the philosophers and wits who illustrated the reigns of King William and Queen Anne." It may savor of cruelty to a biographer to cite Lord Campbell again; but he has really shown so well how inapplicable to Holt is the desig- nation, " mere lawyer," that I must quote him once more: " From his start as a magistrate, he exceeded the high ex- pectations which had been formed of him, and during the long period of twenty-two years, he constantly rose in the admiration and esteem of his countrymen." . . . . " According to a homely but expressive phrase, ' there was no rubbish in his mind.' Familiar with the practice of the court as any clerk — acquainted with the 158 TRUE CHARACTER OF HOLT. rules of special pleading as if he had spent all his days and nights in drawing declarations and demurrers—versed in the subtleties of the law of real property as if he had con- fined his attention to conveyancing—and as a commercial lawyer much in advance of his contemporaries—he ever reasoned logically—appearing at the same time instinct- ively acquainted with all the feelings of the human heart, and versed by experience in all the ways of mankind." p Let me be indulged in a few suspicions and conjectures. I suspect, that of what Holt knew, the largest portion was taken from observation; but I conjecture that he also learned something of books. I suspect, that law books chiefly occupied his hours of study; but I conjecture that conversation and reading other than " of contingent re- mainders " was added to the study of black letter law. I suspect, that he took great pains to form himself as a law- yer ; but I conjecture that he took equal pains, the while, to form himself as a man. If he studied life more than books, what wonder ? Books, whether law or lay, are not all of knowledge. Authors fill the world with the praises of books. I deny not their value. I shall appeal to them, I shall quarrel with them, I shall delight in them, too often, as we go forward, to make any show of right to contemn or to despise them. But the apprenticeship I have served in the law would be of little worth to me, if I had not learned how little of man's knowledge, how little of the best and truest philosophy has been written or printed. The next examples to which I mean to direct attention, may well be ushered in, by some notice of a maxim, or saying hardly less than a maxim, which is often cited against the liberality of forensic studies. We are often told, that the law is a jealous mistress. Let the saying pass for a maxim; but let it be rightly understood. The (p) Ch. Jus. III. SOCIAL DISPOSITION OF THE SCIENCES. 159 law is, indeed, jealous of the devotion due at her altars; too jealous to accept, as the evidence of that devotion, either a docket in the courts, or a name among the philos- ophers. Mere business cannot satisfy her; mere philoso- phy will not purchase her favors. She is practical in her immediate purposes; she demands, therefore, a practical devotion. She is philosophical in her highest aims; she demands, therefore, a philosophical devotion. She cannot surely give up to money, or to labor, or to dullness, what she denies to philosophy. A tempered devotion to science, a moderate devotion to business; these are her exactions of such as would be admitted to her priesthood. But why urge such considerations for the conviction of the mere lawyer ? He will only repeat the saying alluded to, and call for the authorities against his reading of it. Very well. If we should choose to humor his blind reverence for the books, and his stupid submission to authority, we might fill volumes with authorities—such as he cannot and dare not call in question. Not only the way of life, but the expressed opinions of all eminent lawyers might be appealed to. What does he think of such words as these from Blackstone ? " For sciences are of a sociable dispo- sition, and flourish best in the neighborhood of each other; nor is there any branch of learning but may be helped and improved by assistance drawn from other arts. If, therefore, the student in our laws hath formed both his sentiments and style by perusal and imitation of the purest classical writers, among whom the historians and orators will best deserve his regard; if he can reason with precis- ion, and separate arguments from fallacy, by the clear simple rules of pure unsophisticated logic; if he can fix his attention, and steadily pursue truth through any the most intricate deduction, by the use of mathematical de- monstrations ; if he has enlarged his conceptions of nature and art, by a view of the several branches of genuine ex- 260 WILLIAM BLACKSTONE. perimental philosophy; if he has impressed on his mind the sound maxims of the law of nature, the best and most authentic foundation of human laws; if, lastly, he has contemplated those maxims reduced to a practical system in the laws of imperial Rome; if he has done this, or any part of it, (though all may be easily done under as able instructors as ever graced any seats of learning,) a student thus qualified may enter upon the study of the law with incredible advantage and reputation. And if, at the con- clusion, or during the acquisition of these accomplish- ments, he will afford himself here a year or two's further leisure, to lay the foundation of his future labors in a solid scientifical method, without thirsting too early to attend that practice which it is impossible he should rightly com- prehend, he will afterwards proceed with the greatest ease, and will unfold the most intricate points with an intuitive rapidity and clearness." Nor is the mere lawyer to explain away the force of this authority, by suggesting, that it relates only to the prepa- ration for the bar; and that, therefore, it does not warrant the study of other sciences than the law, or other than law books, after being called to the bar. The whole life of Blackstone forbids such a construction of his language. Even his Farewell to his Muse does not keep it in counte- nance. For though he did indeed bid farewell to poetry when he went to the law, the versification of that Fare- well was not his last. He wrote several fugitive pieces afterwards —and we learn that "some notes on Shak- speare, which, just before his death, he communicated to Mr. Stevens, and which Mr. S. inserted in his last edition of that author, show how well he understood the meaning, as well as the beauties of his favorite among the English poets." q In short, whether we consider his taste for archi- tecture, which never appears to have died out, his appre- (q) Life of Blackstone, prefixed to Chitty's Ed. of Bl. Coram. ERSKINE. 161 ciation of medical science, his classical attainments, or that remarkable command of the English language, which, together with his legal and poetical writings, induced Ma- lone to pronounce, that " Sir W. Blackstone is one of the most eminent literary characters that the present age has produced;" we shall see how little warrant there is for the sense sometimes attached to the proverb on which we have been commenting. If, when Blackstone bade fare- well to his Muse, he had not " Reluctant moved, with doubtful mind, Oft stopped, and often looked behind," his Commentaries would not have been, as they still are, the delight of the learner, the resort of the learned, the model of forensic eloquence, and the boast of forensic science. Erskine, who was a much greater practical lawyer than Blackstone, was as liberal in his studies, though his learn- ing in strict science, especially natural science, was by no means great. Indeed, from practical life, rather than from books of any kind, he took most of his lessons in the knowledge demanded by his vocation. But the liberality of his reading will appear in what we learn from one of his biographers. Lord Campbell tells us: " At the gram- mar school of St. Andrews, under Mr. Hacket, a zealous teacher, but not much of a scholar, he attained only a moderate proficiency in Latin, and learned little of Greek beyond the alphabet. But he was carefully taught to compose in English, as if it had been in a foreign language, and being fond of books, he read, in a desultory way, many English poems, plays, voyages, and travels. He never was matriculated in the University of St. Andrews, but in the session 1762-3, he attended the Mathematical and Natural Philosophy classes, taught by professors of considerable eminence, and from them he imbibed the small portion of 10 162 THE JUDGE, THE COMMENTATOR, AND THE ADVOCATE. science of which he could ever boast."r His fondness for the plays of Shakspeare appears remarkably in all we see of him, and Lord Campbell has particularly mentioned his " intense and unremitting study of the best English wri- ters, both in prose and verse." We have thus seen, that the greatest English Judge, the greatest* English Commentator, and the greatest British Advocate, did not find the law a mistress so jealous as to demand all their affections, all their thoughts, all their powers. Neither of these chosen illustrations is the in- stance of a mere lawyer. Each of them was profoundly taught by experience; each of them was learned in books. Holt and Erskine were bold and original thinkers; Black- stone could best express the thoughts of others. It was not from choice—let us be assured of that—that Erskine was comparatively ignorant of natural science. His love of learning breathes through all he says, and shines through all he does. He chiefly affects poetry, however, and, agreeing with Blackstone, and, perhaps, with Holt, finds in Shakspeare the noblest philosophy and the richest mine of thought. Closely as we may examine, we shall generally find this same love of Shakspeare in all the great lawyers, from Pemberton to Webster. I might rely on this single fact to show, that the true lawyer does hab- itually take a large and liberal view of the nature of man and the power and dignity of law. But, be this reasona- ble or extravagant, the instances I have given, fully make out the case I offered to establish. Need I, then, add to these examples the other shining names, which attest the possible variety, and illustrate the desirable liberality, of forensic studies and pursuits? Need I speak of Sir Thomas More, of Ellsmere, Bacon, Selden, Hale, Claren- don, Hardwicke, Somers, Mansfield, Camden, Mackintosh, Jeffrey, Talfourd, Brougham, Warren, in England, or of (r) 6 Lord Chancellors, 302, 303. A POSSIBLE GALLERY OF PORTRAITS. 163 our own worthies of the law—the elder and the younger Adams, Hamilton, Wirt, Parsons, Webster, Spencer, Gas- ton, Story, Legare, Walker, Taney, Ewing, Choate, and others ? What a gallery of portraits might not some mas- ter hand make up of such materials and subjects! CHAPTER IV. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. HAVING recognized, among the sources of the Floating Philosophy of the Bar, theology, as well as moral (considered as including metaphysical) philosophy, I may as well encounter here, as elsewhere, the opposition which such recognition may provoke. For, in attempting to ex- amine what we know, in any manner, of the human body and the human mind as unitedly or reciprocally agent in man's artful life, I cannot entirely overlook the obligations of all anthropology, to theologians, moralists, and meta- physical philosophers. And here I am reminded, that in venturing to recognize an affection for the Good, the True, and the Beautiful, as motiving the artful life of man in its obedience to law, I also ventured to describe the supposed affection as looking through the present imperfection to the future perfect. It was indeed a venture so to recognize the christian view of life. Philosophers are writing histories to prove that Christianity is dead; that she surrendered to the forms, which, to ingratiate herself, she early substituted for her earlier forms, not her body only but her spirit. Learned writers venture to describe theology as hardly more to be regarded than a dead lion. Some of them, indeed, can hardly own that she was ever worthy of regard. They do RELATIONS OF CHRISTIAN THEOLOGY. 165 not find that she was the discoverer of anything. She did not invent a new principle of humanity. At best, she only redeemed humanity. She only dealt with moral agencies—and moral agencies are but stationary when considered in comparison with intellectual agencies, as movers of the wheels revolving in the interest of progress. Such a view of the theology, which, teaching by exam- ples such as He who spoke in parables alone could furnish, shows us life in its reality and its integrity—not as philo- sophical anatomy might forge resemblances to its constitu- ents, and awkwardly assemble these into some likeness of humanity—a view like this of the theology, whereof the life of Jesus is the beautiful epitome, I cannot quite ac- cept. I am not philosophical enough to recognize the evidences that the faith delivered to the twelve, was either quite so fruitless of discoveries, or quite so eager to surrender its vitality to its ingratiation, as philosophers would have us think. Though I have tried the beautiful philosophy of " hardness of belief," which Mr. Buckle so delights to honor, I have never found much satisfaction in decrying or in undervaluing the ethics of the christian system. But intending to produce a book which all who claim the name of christian may receive without offence, and which the nonmalignant unbeliever even may not find offensive, save as it presents a view of government which he may deem objectionable, I will not assume the task of shielding Chris- tianity from all assaults. But I must be permitted to observe, that the enemies of Christianity are not, in every instance, avowed enemies. Doctors and doctrines claim- ing christian designations must be drawn from the chris- tian stronghold ere the latter can encounter all its opposi- tion, fairly as it is. I am not a theologian, and I could not do the work of freeing Christianity from enemies in masks, or doctrines that betray. And even if I could, I would not think it proper to attempt it here. I write en- 166 INTEREST LN THEOLOGY. tirely in the interest of life forensic. This is not intended as a theological production. If it were, I might with great propriety proceed to such a view of Christianity as would involve the advocacy of a church as well as of the dogmatic in theology. Without such advocacy, I could not permit myself to undertake the full defence of Chris- tianity. But, having recognized the affection pre-eminently dis- tinguishing the christian system as the real sanction of human laws, and having also recognized the theology cul- tivated by christian theologians, as a proper source of a distinctively forensic physiology, I must defend these acts of recognition. Their complete defence may not appear until the very close of what shall follow. But at present, I design to indicate this proposition: In Christianity, not only do we find a source of a distinctively forensic physiology, but we may well discern a favorite, protected, honored system, treated throughout Christendom as near akin to jurispru- dence, and as furnishing the highest moral force connected with the law. By Christianity, at present, I would have the reader understand, Theology. And I will even be so bold as to declare, that Mr. Buckle reads with ill-attention, or with little profit, all the indications of the times, when he permits himself to'use such sentences as follow: "Within the short space of three centuries, the old theological spirit has been compelled, not only to descend from its long-established supremacy, but to abandon those strongholds to which, in the face of advancing knowledge, it has vainly attempted to secure a retreat.....Disputes which, a century ago, would have set the whole kingdom in a flame, are now regarded with indifference by the vast majority of educated men. The complications of modern society, and the immense variety of interests into which it THE THREE LAWS. 167 is divided, have done much to distract the intellect, and to prevent it from dwelling upon subjects which a less oc- cupied people would deem of paramount importance. Besides this, the accumulations of science are far superior to those of any former age, and offer suggestions of such surpassing interest, that nearly all our greatest thinkers devote to them the whole of their time, and refuse to busy themselves with matters of mere speculative belief."a Never was assertion less supported by the facts than the assertion of the learned writer, as to the attention paid by our greatest thinkers to such scientific studies as exclude Theology. Theology, defended or attacked, is constantly presented to our minds, in every production of the day. Not even such a work as that of Mr. Buckle can avoid it. Mr. Buckle is not ignorant of this. But he and Theodore Parker have determined to exclude from pure theology all scientific speculations. They will have it, that logicians, chemists, mathematicians, historians, among the clergy, are necessarily diverted from theology, while occupied in their preferred pursuits of leisure hours and literary labor. Never was mistake more signal. True theology rejects no scientific tribute. Truth, religious truth as well as any other, is the friend of learning, whether learning treat of spirits or of stones. It is not extravagant or fanciful to say, that we have at present, governing the operations of man's artful life, a law distinctively political, a law distinctively forensic, and a law distinctively religious. No sharp distinction sepa- rated these in ancient times. I have undertaken to estab- lish, that they are not strangers to each other now. The political law determines the limits within which the law distinguished as forensic shall have vigor. So the political law determines within what limits the religious law of man shall govern social conduct. To the individual, the law (a) Hist. Civ. in Eng. 256-257. 168 THEOLOGY IN CHRISTENDOM. distinctively religious holds the nearest place as well as the highest rank. Within certain limits, the same law is honored by the law distinctively political as quite above its reach. Within certain limits, the law distinctively forensic looks to the religious law for sanction and assist- ance. The law distinctively political finds in religious law the model of enactments, the philosophy of laws, the power which motives men to be obedient to the command- ments of the State. Intimate as the relations which subsist at present be- tween the law political and forensic on the one hand, and the law distinctively religious on the other, much more intimate were these relations in the infancy of nations. Indeed, I shall be solemnly arraigned or fiercely challeng- ed for maintaining, as I must maintain, that in no single state of Christendom has polity entirely freed itself from religion, or ventured to attempt the enforcement of the laws without the aid of the religious forces. For, not heated theorists alone, but grave and recollected judges, have contended, that however it may have been in ancient times or in other places, we, who make, in a new world, a new experiment of government, have separated the politi- cal from the religious, so that polity and jurisprudence have here no remnant of their once so intimate connexion with religion. Nay, such writers as the learned Mr. Buckle, hold that even in England, the connexion between Church and State is a dead form, or a doomed and dying form, and that new theories of government have there pronounced divorce between theology and politics. Unable to agree, that either in England or America, accepted theories of government have alienated polity and Christianity—persuaded, that in any chosen instance, I should be enabled to point out continued intimate rela- tions between the political and the religious forces—I would willingly take such a retrospect of history and such CONTENTS OF PROTESTANT THEOLOGY. 169 a view of present politics, as 'might assist us to maintain what I advance in this particular. The interest of such a retrospect to all who would become familiarly acquainted with the tone and tendencies of jurisprudence, cannot be inconsiderable. I will hereafterb submit a showing, which may prove, that if theology can anywise enlighten a forensic physi- ology? it may be treated as a proper source of such a physiology. And that it may illuminate and guide foren- sic learning, hardly can be questioned. I will not attempt to indicate precisely what may be derived from theology by a forensic physiology. But from a simple statement of the method sometimes observed by theologians, it may be seen that much may be extracted from theology for the enlightenment and guidance of forensic psychology—and this we have determined to regard as only part of a forensic physiology. The only Protestant theology which I have been enabled to examine for the purpose of ascertaining the method of theologians, is that of Dr. Dwight. An analysis of his theology shows it to be conversant, first, with the " System of Doctrines;" second, with the " System of Duties;" third, the System of Dispensations consequent on the State of Probation. The System of Doctrines includes: 1. Doctrines of Natural Religion; 2. Doctrines peculiar to the Christian Religion. The Doctrines of Natural Reli- gion relate, a, to the Existence of God ; b, to God's Unity; c, to His Attributes; d, to His Decrees; e, to His Sover- eignty ; /, to God's Works. The Doctrines peculiar to the Christian Religion (or the Mediatorial System) relate, a, to the Character of Jesus Christ, the Mediator; b, to the Covenant under which Christ acted; c, to the Offices which Christ sustained; d, to the Miracles of Christ; e, to His Resurrection; /, to the Amiableness of Christ in publish- (b) See Book III. 170 DIVISIONS OF CATHOLIC THEOLOGY. ing the Gospel to Mankind; g, to the Consequences of Christ's Mediation. The System of Duties includes: 1. Duties of Natural Religion; 2. Duties of the Christian Religion. In examining the former, the theologian con- siders, a, the Character of the Law of God; b, in what that Law is summed up; c, Man's Inability to obey the Law of God. In treating of the Duties of the Christian Religion, Dr. Dwight considers, a, the Mode of Restora- tion to the Spirit of Obedience; b, Means of Restoration, or Means of Grace. The System of Dispensations conse- quent on the State of Probation is divided into two con- siderations: 1. That of Death; 2. That of the Conse- quences of Death.0 Theology, as cultivated by the Catholic theologian, is sometimes divided and related, according to its conver- sance with— I. Doctrines belonging to the Supernatural Order; II. Doctrines belonging to the Natural Order.d With reference to such a distinction, " Natural Theology treats of Truths of the Natural Order. Revealed The- ology treats of Supernatural (i. e., of Revealed) Truths, whether these belong to the Natural or Supernatural Order of Truths. " Again: The subjects treated are either Speculative Truths, the object of the intellect, or Moral Truths, the practical rule and law for the will. Hence, Theology is either Dogmatic or Moral; or, in other words, Speculative or Practical. Considering the manner in which theologi- cal subjects may be treated, Theology is Positive or Dis- cursive. " Positive, or Doctrinal, is that which proposes leading or doctrinal truths, and proves these by Scripture, Fathers, Councils, etc., etc., and makes us*, to this end, of the or- naments of style; hence, also, called Oratorical. (c) 1 Dwight's Theology (ed. of 1825), 63. (d) It is to be observed that the Natural Order of Theology is not coincident with the Order of Nature, as I have attempted to describe it. LEX NON SCRIPTA OF THEOLOGY. 171 "Discursive consists in developing these doctrinal truths, and deducing conclusions according to the rules of strict dialectics; called also Demonstrative. Scholastic is the strictest form of Discursive, and aims at explaining every thing, and proving each proposition, by following the method of strict definitions, methodical divisions, and the syllogistic form of argument." Readers need not be told, that in the quite minute ex- amination of the notion of human acts, distinguishing their several kinds, and analyzing them so as to ascertain their principles, the moral theologian is often occupied with simple metaphysics. But it is not merely moral theology which thus includes the metaphysical. Moral philosophy, as cultivated by certain philosophers, includes the metaphysical. It is chiefly as Moral Theology is conversant with the metaphysical, especially with the affections, that it is available for the enlightenment and guidance of forensic physiology. It is not proper here to enter into the disputed questions which divide the Churches, save as well established legal doctrines cannot be maintained without maintaining doc- trines in theology. I shall, with care, avoid all advocacy of what any might distinguish justly as the "peculiar" doctrines of any particular religious body. I am warned to do so, not alone by the design of such a course of studies as the present, but by the consideration, that I am unversed in theologic learning, save as I have learned it from certain symbolic books and from the pul- pit. The theology with which I am in any sense familiar might be called the lex non scripta of theology—its custom- ary, common law form. And it is this unwritten theology from which the lawyer derives the theological additions to forensic learning. I have been so careful to establish the propriety of 172 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. adding to forensic learning from the learning of the theo- logians, that it may be expected that I will attempt dis- tinguishable derivations and additions here. But I do not expect to do so. Theologians and jurists, better versed than is the present writer in theology, may, however, undertake the task which I do not expect to accomplish. I may borrow something from the theologians not already made a part of legal science; but I promise nothing of the sort. And now we come to that Moral Philosophy which •some philosophers consider as including Intellectual Phi- losophy. Without determining the strict propriety of such a view of Moral Philosophy, we may conveniently treat the latter as inclusive of the Metaphysical, or rather as not to be distinguished from the Metaphysical. " By the term Moral Philosophy," says Sydney Smith, " is popularly understood ethical philosophy, or that sci- ence which teaches the duties of life: but Moral Philoso- phy, properly speaking, is contrasted to natural philosophy; comprehending every thing spiritual, as that comprehends every thing corporeal, and constituting the most difficult and the most sublime of these two divisions under which all human knowledge must be arranged. In this sense, it is taught in the Scotch Universities, where alone it is taught in this island; and in this sense it comprehends all the intellectual, active, and moral faculties of man; the laws by which they are governed; the limits by which they are controlled; and the means by which they may be improved: it aims at discovering, by the accurate analysis of his spiritual part, the system of action most agreeable to the intentions of his Maker, and most con- ducive to the happiness of man."e In recognizing as a source of the lawyer's characteristic (e) Sketches of Mor. Philosophy, Introduc. Lee. INTRODUCTION TO METAPHYSICS. 173 philosophy, and as interesting to us in this exploration into Anthropology, a learning known as metaphysical, I have already said, that I peril much the reception of my book in legal circles. True, the very science of the law is metaphysical. True, the practice of the law is quite fa- miliar with the metaphysical. The logic of the pleader, and the tests applied by counsel to the testimony of the witnesses at bar, are metaphysical. Yet if one do not well select, and carefully prepare, the legal circle, in which metaphysics shall be mentioned, he may chance to frighten some well-meaning minds from their propriety. Indeed, if one abruptly mention metaphysics to a lawyer in full practice, he may find himself reminded of what Sydney Smith resorted to, in order to convince his hearers, that there was no danger in a course of metaphysical discourses. " There is," said that witty philosopher, " a word of dire sound and horrible import which I would fain have kept concealed if I possibly could ; but as this was not feasible, I shall even meet the danger at once, and get out of it as well as I can. The word to which I allude is that very tremendous one of Metaphysics; which, in a lecture on Moral Philosophy, seems likely to produce as much alarm as the cry of fire in a crowded play-house, when Belvidera is left to weep by herself, and every one saves himself in the best manner he can. I must beg my audience, how- ever, to sit quiet till they can hear what can be said in defense of Metaphysics, and in the meantime to make use of the language which the manager would probably adopt on such an occasion—I can assure ladies and gentlemen, there is not the smallest degree of danger."f I know too little of the learning known as metaphysical, to make a confident appraisement of that learning. But I cannot see the justice of objections made to it by certain writers. (f) Sketches, Introd. Lee. 174 THE RAGE FOR SCIENCE. Theology, the chief concern of the human mind and the human heart, is metaphysical. In Physiology, large part of what is of the highest interest, is metaphysical. In Physiology, we have contained Psychology. Psychology is but another name for Moral Philosophy, or Metaphysics. All the sciences that deal with the operations and the so- called "laws" of reason are distinctively but metaphysical. The interest, therefore, of Metaphysical Philosophy can- not be inconsiderable. But it is not to be concealed, that constantly pretending to a positiveness, which it will not find in any part of metaphysics, what we commonly distinguish as the scien- tific, wages unrelenting war against the metaphysical phi- losophers. Readers of Macaulay may remember how he paints a period, distinguished not by real love of science only, but by an affected fondness for the scientific, and especially for such as now claims rank as positive science. He de- scribes the revolutionary spirit, which had ceased to ope- rate in politics, as operative in the various departments of physics. " The torrent which had been dammed up in one channel rushed violently into another." The Royal Society, " destined to be a chief agent in a long series of glorious and salutary reforms, began to exist. In a few months experimental science became all the mode. The transfusion of blood, the ponderation of air, the fixation of mercury, succeeded to that place in the public mind which had been lately occupied by the controversies of the Rota. Dreams of perfect forms of government made way for dreams of wings with which men were to fly from the Tower to the Abbey, and of double-keeled ships, which were never to founder in the fiercest storm. All classes were hurried along by the prevailing sentiment. Cavalier and Roundhead, Churchman and Puritan, were for once allied. Divines, jurists, statesmen, nobles, princes, swelled CONTEMPT FOR METAPHYSICS. 175 the triumph of the Baconian philosophy. Poets sang with emulous fervor the approach of the golden age."..... " It was almost necessary to the character of a fine gen- tleman to have something to say about air pumps and tel- escopes ; and even fine ladies, now and then, thought it becoming to affect a taste for science, went in coaches and six to visit the Graham curiosities, and broke forth into cries of delight at finding that a magnet really attracted a needle, and that a microscope really made a fly look as large as a sparrow."8 We, to some extent, repeat the fashionable rage for sci- ence, which Macaulay thus depicts. Science — science! science! Who is not the author of a scientific system, positive as death ? What cannot become the basis of a scientific system? Where is courage to resist preten- sions, stamped with scientific designations and assuming scientific rank? Among the advocates of greater positiveness than be- longs to metaphysical philosophy are certain learned phys- iologists. These speak with great contempt of all the schools of metaphysics. It is indeed quite apparent,11 that Physiologists assume (g) 1 Eng. 318, 319, 320. (h) " Throughout the work," says Dr. Draper in the preface to his recent work on Physiology, " Physiology is treated after the manner known in Natural Phi- losophy. It was chiefly, indeed, for the sake of aiding in the removal of the mysticism which has pervaded that science, that the author was induced to print this book. Alone, of all the great departments of Knowledge, Physiology still retains the metaphysical conceptions of the Middle Ages, from which As- tronomy and Chemistry have made themselves free. To exorcise it from such nonentities as irritability, plastic power, vital force, is the duty of the rising generation of physicians. It is also their interest. Empiricism will never be banished from the practice of medicine until Physiology is made an exact science." " The reader," he continues, "will also find, that the opportunity is taken, whenever it occurs, of directing his attention to these arguments which the subject offers for elucidating the moral nature of man. Believing that the right progress of society depends on its religious opinions, and observing with con- cern the growing carelessness which is manifested in these respects in our times, the author has not hesitated to show how advantage may be taken of the facta 176 WHAT IS SCIENCE? to set aside all reverence for metaphysical Philosophy, and claim for what the Physiologist asserts relating to the highest objects of all metaphysical investigation, rank with what is positive in learning. WTien is a thing so known that what we know of it is positive ? What mode of coming to the knowledge of a thing assures us that we know it positively ? What amount of contradiction, conflict and confusion, in the promulga- tion and the definition of the known, deprives the theories connected with that definition and that promulgation, of all pretension to be positive ? Can any one connected with the schools of medicine with safety venture to prescribe the Metaphysical in learning, because there have been contradiction, conflict and confusion, in the schools of Metaphysics ? It may be proper here to look a little into some of the conceptions of the scientific, which have tended to mislead the minds of many as to science, and the value of its doc- trines. Science,' I may be informed, is systematic; science must be positive. It does not rest in theory. It is not science till it is reduced to form in writing, or in the equivalent of writing. presented by Physiology. We live in a period of difficulty. Metaphysical Phi- losophy has lost its hold upon the human mind. Tlie uncertainties, contradictions, and emptiness of the English, Scotch, French and German schools, are manifest. Already the belief is wide spread, that their barrenness of result and consequent worth- lessness are the necessary incident of their method of investigation, and that we must look to some wholly new system as a guide to truth on the topics they have had under consideration. That guide is Positive Science." " It would be in vain," adds Dr. Draper, " to discourage the cultivators of Positive Science from attempting the solution of questions which have foiled Speculative Philosophy. The attempt will certainly be made, and will inevita- bly conduct us to the truth. Our concern should be to direct it from the outset in the right course. The existence of God; his goodness, power, and other attributes ; the existence of the soul of man, its immortality and accountability; the future life; our relations to and position in the world ; its government; these are topics with which Physical Science is concerning itself, and from which Physiology cannot hereafter be disconnected." DID THE ARTS PRECEDE THE SCIENCES? 177 On the other side of the question, however, authorities may be appealed to. " The order of invention," says Stewart,1 " is, in most cases, the reverse of that fitted for didactic communication. This observation applies not only to the analytical and synthetical processes of the individual, but to the progress- ive improvements of the species, when compared with the arrangements prescribed by logical method, for conveying a knowledge of them to students. In an enlightened age, the sciences are justly considered as the basis of the arts; and in a course of liberal education, the former are always taught prior to the latter. But in the order of invention and discovery, the arts preceded the sciences. Men meas- ured land before they studied speculative geometry; and governments were established before politics were studied as a science." Approaching the assertion, that Logic " comprises the science of reasoning as well as an art, founded on that science," Mr. Mill observes -J "Art necessarily presup- poses knowledge; art in any but its infant state, presup- poses scientific knowledge." If this language be compared with what the same writer elsewhere k lays down, it may be concluded that Mr. Mill did not choose language ex pressive of his meaning when he used the sentence I have placed beside the language of Dugald Stewart. If it should be otherwise determined, however, I must venture to dissent from each of the learned writers. If Mr. Stewart had attempted to define the sum of knowledge, and the precise order of the arrangement of learning, which are necessary to the notion of Science, he might have found reason to doubt whether he had not fallen into an error. If Mr. Mill, on the other hand, had consulted his own definition of art—namely, that it " con- (i) Desserta. I, Encyc. Brit. (j) System of Logic, 2. (k) lb. 591, sec. 5. 12 178 ART PRESUPPOSES SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE. sists of the truths of Science, arranged in the most conven- ient order for practice, instead of the order which is the most convenient for thought"—he would have seen, that, even in its infant state, Art necessarily presupposes a knowledge, which is, relatively speaking, scientific. I venture to think, that Science ever precedes or pre- exists Art; but that Art, embodying and making visible the inventions of Science, constantly adds to the bulk, and new-models the form, of the Learning from which it at first proceeded. I find it difficult to think of an art with- out a corresponding science. Even the notion of the in- tuition of genius does not make the conception easy. In- tuition sees the why and the how, as well as the possibility of an action or the impulse to perform it. Some sort of instinctive art in the human infant, belonging to its nour- ishment, may, indeed, feebly remind us of the merely instinctive art of the bee, or the yet anonymous art of the beaver. But even the highest of these instances only sup- ports the general truth, that whatever art involves skill, involves a foregone perception, attention, conception, asso- ciation of ideas, reasoning, as each of these is defined by Mr. Stewart himself—in short, it involves knowledge and understanding, which must be some degree of science un- der any possible definition. This will partly appear, indeed, from Mr. Stewart's own language, when (in his " Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind,") treating of In- vention in the Arts and Sciences, he says, that invention " is the result of acquired habits, and not the original gift of nature;" and, in connexion with his distinction between invention and discovery, he further says: " Discoveries in science, therefore, unless they are made by accident, imply the exercise of invention." And again: "It was before remarked, that in every instance of invention, there is some new idea, or some new combination of ideas, which is brought to light by the inventor; and that although this SCIENCE PRECEDES ART. 179 may sometimes happen in a way which he is unable to explain, yet when a man possesses an habitual fertility of invention in any particular Art or Science, and can rely with confidence on his inventive powers, whenever he is called upon to exert them, he must have acquired, by pre- vious habits of study, a command over those classes of his ideas, which are subservient to the particular effort he wishes to make. In what manner this command is acquir- ed, it is not possible, perhaps, to explain completely; but it appears to me to be chiefly in the two following ways: In the first place, by his habits of speculation, he may have arranged his knowledge in such a manner as may render it easy for him to combine, at pleasure, all the various ideas in his mind, which have any relation to the subject about which he is occupied; or, secondly, he may have learned by experience, certain general rules, by means of which he can direct the train of his thoughts into these channels, in which the ideas he is in quest of may be most likely to occur to him." The question, I am aware, is not whether knowledge comes before art: Mr. Mill distinctly asserts, Mr. Stewart plainly concedes, that art always presupposes knowledge. Indeed, there could be no question seriously raised as to the correctness of that admission. The simplest motion of our bodies, is never purposely performed, till the knowl- edge of the manner enters into the understood conscious- ness of the power. The only question is, whether some rude science must have pre-existed the rudest art—whether some simple science of measures must have pre-existed the measurement of land—whether some unsystematic science of politics must have been studied before any government was established by law. It seems to me, that we must allow to the science, a pre- cedence over the fact, of government. Science is nothing but knowledge prepared for art. That knowledge would 180 THE "POSITIVE" IN PHYSIOLOGY. seem to be scientific, which, relatively speaking, is fit to be expressed in a practicable art. No precise sum, no unalterable system, no given form, can be prescribed, as the amount, the method, or the sig- nificant, of knowledge deserving the designation in ques- tion. Nor can I acknowledge a distinction between the person who prepares science for art, and the person who carries art into practice. No such idea or supposition be- longs to the true definition of science, as I apprehend it. Writing is not necessary to science; the division of labor is not necessary to science. Both may improve art and increase the sum of science; either may be so used as to pervert or prevent the growth of skill, or to narrow the field of knowledge and investigation. Things known to one man ought, indeed, not only to be learned by his neighbors, but inherited by his children and the world. But a body of science may be conceived without the con- ception of its being written, or that of its formation by students other than artists. I may here return to Physiology as cultivated by the learned Dr. Draper, with the right to say, that much of its contents can only rank as scientific, on the assumption that I have correctly viewed the scientific in general. At the same time, we have occasion for the observation, that after all, even as " a cat may look at a king," the unlearned may still continue to breathe freely in the presence of the scientific. Here, however, I desire to make it clear, that I do not design to behave towards the science known as Medicine, as certain Physiologists, while aiming to exalt that science, apparently incline to behave towards all metaphysical phi- losophy. I will not, therefore, triumphantly direct atten- tion to facts notoriously exhibiting the perils which must attend the warfare of the medical, whenever it assails a ri- val science, on the ground that it is full of contradictions. I DISTINCTIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 181 will not require the devotees of Physiology, as part of Medicine, to vindicate their favorite science when assailed as full of contradictions. I will not inquire how far the errors and uncertainties of metaphysical philosophy may be traced to errors and uncertainties in physiology as it has been developed with strict reference to Medicine. I have a real, an unchangeable respect for Medicine. I know, that notwithstanding all its contradictions, errors, and uncertainties, it well deserves far higher estimation as a science than it has as yet attained. I know, moreover, that in Physiology, as Carpenter has cultivated it, a just regard for what is practical, and verified, and otherwise deserving honor, in the learning known as metaphysical, is constantly apparent. Let us deal more charitably with writers such as Dr. Draper, than such writers seem inclin- ed to deal with Reid, or Hamilton, or Balmes. But let us not entirely overlook the arrogance of writers such as Dr. Draper, in assailing as they have assailed all meta- physical philosophy. As for the positiveness and the certainty of medical learning, I have only to observe at present, that its teach- ings are as speculative as the teachings of theology. Theology takes facts as certainly ascertained as any known to medicine—takes facts, indeed, of medicine, of law, of every art and every science—and upon these facts, as well as on the evidence of revelation, builds the theory of God and human duty. Medicine cannot pretend to higher certainty. What certainty, what positiveness, will the learned Draper claim, for doctrines such as this ? " If there be a property which is characteristic of the nervous mechanism in its utmost degree of development, it is this of retain- ing the relics or traces of impressions which have for- merly been made upon it. As it goes on increasing in perplexity as we rise through the animal series, the pro- 182 DR. DRAPER'S METAPHYSICS. vision for the retention of such impressions becomes more and more strongly marked. Ganglionic masses, which from their position and structure, are marked out for this duty, appear in that ascending scale in increasing magni- tude. To these we may aptly apply the designation of registering ganglia, since they truly store up the traces of ancient impressions and keep them in reserve. These ganglia must, moreover, be the scenes of the interaction and interference of the impressions they thus contain. The registering ganglia thus introduce the element of time into the action of the nervous mechanism. The im- pression, which without them would have forthwith ended in action is delayed for a season, nay, perhaps, even as long, though it may be in a declining way, as the structure itself endures; and with the introduction of this condition of duration come all those important effects which ensue from the various action of many received impressions, old and new, upon one another."1 When the learned physiologist commiserates the case of the metaphysicians, he observes: " They have given us imposing doctrines of the nature and attributes of the mind, in absolute ignorance of its material substratum. Of the great authors who have thus succeeded one an- other in ephemeral celebrity, how many made themselves acquainted with the structure of the human brain? Doubt- less some had been so unfortunate as never to see one! yet that wonderful organ was the basis of all their specu- lations." Is this more than speculation ? Is it positive ? Can we certainly declare, that the brain is the material substratum of the mind ? Is it so " positive," that that wonderful organ is the basis of all proper speculation touching mind? Is the mystery of the connection be- tween mind and body dissipated by the sun of modern (1) Drap. Phys. 269. MYSTERIES OF PHYSIOLOGY. 183 science ? I trow not. The doctrine of the Trinity itself is not more speculative than the doctrines, which profess to teach how ganglia become the registers for memory ; and it is scarcely more mysterious than Carpenter or Brodie's theory of the connection between mind and body. CHAPTER V. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. I DO not mean to question, that a positiveness quite wanting to any well known system of Psychology, may be attained when Physiology shall be more regarded by Psychologists than it was by some metaphysical philos- ophers. It is plain enough, that mind and body are united in so intimate relations, that no perfect study of the mind can be accomplished save through physiology. Nor can it be denied that Dr. Draper speaks but justly when he says: " It is greatly to be regretted, that evidence drawn from structural arrangement has hitherto, by very high authority, either been totally cast aside or held in very light esteem." a But we must not deceive ourselves in this particular. The evidence drawn from structural arrange- ment has not constantly produced harmony of doctrine, even when considered with the closest scrutiny. Indeed, the " systems " of " Positive Science " founded on results, announced by men who have, as they declare, made careful scrutiny of just such evidence as that which Dr. Draper so exalts, are quite discordant. One may quietly submit to something like an unbecoming arrogance in writers such as Draper or as Ray. The arrogance of Positive Science as they have illustrated it almost be- (a) Physiology. ' EXPERTS AGAIN. 185 comes a virtue, when compared with the pretensions of the " irregular " forms in which Positive Science delights to dazzle the unlearned. We, who are not scientific ex- perts, hardly know the real from the pseudo sciences. Pretenders and Philosophers are sometimes undistinguish- able by unlearned eyes. We have so many " systems" now a days, that really we find it difficult to count the names, much more to be familiar with the contents, of the sciences. The worst is, that no matter what the new "system" maybe conversant with, it claims the honors due to what is positive in science, and denounces scientific sentence against unbelievers. At the bar, we are from day to day encountering pre- tensions of the scientific, which we do not always find it easy to respect. An instance may be given. A woman was indicted as a poisoner.b Her counsel set up the defence that she was irresponsible, on the ground that the poisoning was an instance of imbecility educated to do the act in question. Experts were examined. Two of these belonged to the old school of Medicine. Two others were Eclectics — one, the author of an Anthropol- ogy. Dr. Buchanan, when presented as a witness, was proceeding to express his opinions founded on his " An- thropology,"6 when an objection was submitted to the Court, relating to the competency of opinions such as his, so founded. But the Court allowed him to proceed. He testified among other things, to indications of idiocy, which he distinguished in a bodily examination of the prisoner. " My opinion," he said, " is not given simply as a craniologist, but the whole constitution is embraced in my teaching......In testifying, I proceed upon the prin- ciples of the entire science of Physiology, assisted by a (b) I refer to Nancy Farrer's case. 2 Ohio State R. (c) Since published in a volume of nearly 400 pages. 186 Buchanan's system. special study of the anatomy and physiology of the brain, which has been my principal study for fifteen years, and with which I ought to be acquainted if I know any thing. ......Sciences, which have been taught for many years are not hypothetical matters, though they may be subjects of debate and discussion. I would stake my life upon the practicability of determining positively by science, which we now possess, the moral and intellectual characteristics of any individual." But Dr. Edwards (of the old school) testified : " I do not think it possible to tell with perfect accuracy the moral and intellectual character of any in- dividual by science. I do not agree with [Dr.] Buchanan that it is possible. I would prefer to trust common sense [rather] than science." d The system of Buchanan is according to its author quite as positive as any other system. He declares, it is not hypothetical. He verifies it by his oath. He avows, that he is ready with the risk of life to verify it. When we look into its teachings, we encounter a variety of sci- ences combined. The Science of Phrenology—the Science of Cerebral Physiology — the Science of Pathognomy — the Science of Sarcognomy — make up the Anthropology before us. These again are subdivided, and we find fresh wonders in each subdivision. Among other things set down as positive in this peculiar system, are doctrines such as these: Neurology gives to the external senses their definite lo- cation in cerebral organs, thus supplying a singular hiatus in the Gallian system. " The Higher or More Subtle Powers of the Mind.— Neurology recognizes, explains, and locates those won- derful powers which maintain our relations to the subtle influences of nature, which give rise to the phenomena of animal magnetism, and which bring us into contact with (d) I quote from the bill of exceptions in the record—not from the report. PSYCHOMETRY AND PHYSIOGNOMY. 187 the sphere of what is called spiritual and supernatural. The importance of these powers to the progress and ele- vation of mankind can be appreciated only by the more advanced students of anthropology. " In addition to these new classes of cerebral organs, a great number of faculties or organs of the more familiar species, which have heretofore been overlooked, are dem- onstrated by Neurology. " Moreover, the Neurological system of investigation es- tablishes three distinct and important contributions to mental science — Psychometry, Physiognomy, and Sarcog- nomy. "1. Psychometry. — The Psychometry, or mind-measur- ing of the Gallian system was merely a rude system of cran- iology, sketching boldly and roughly the profile of a char- acter appropriate to the skull, which the individual often failed to realize practically from the want of full and sys- tematic mental cultivation. The Psychometry of the Neurological system determines the actual power of the organs by the impression which they give of their vital energy to an impressible and intuitive person. Hence the new Psychometry differs from the old Cranioscopic sketch- ing as much as a cast or daguerreotype of the face differs from a penciled profile. Our Psychometry has also the advantage that it is entirely independent of the cranium, and applies with as much facility to the absent, the dead, or the ancient, as to the present. "2. Physiognomy.—The Neurological system differs from the Gallian system in the fact that while the latter gives us only a limited Craniology, the former gives us, in ad- dition to a very extensive and minute Craniology, a system of facial and corporeal Physiognomy, which enables us to determine even without the sympathetic Psychometry, the general character and condition of the brain, as they are distinctly indicated in the countenance and person. A reference to Physiognomy is often as important as the ex- 188 SARC0GN0MY. amination of the cranium, in determining the actual char- acter. " 3. Sarcognomy.—The laws of sympathy between the mind and body, of which the Gallian system offered no explanation beyond the location of the mind in the brain, may now be understood. Neurology, by showing that every individual portion of the brain sympathizes and is connected with a corresponding portion of the body, explains all the sympathies of the mind with the body and the body with the mind, both in health and in dis- ease. The sympathy, connection, or correspondence be- tween the cerebral and corporeal organs, is such that we make a Psychological map of the body corresponding to that of the brain, in all its organs and sub-divisions. In the study of these new relations and correspondences we obtain a large amount of psycho-sarcological knowledge of the relative development of mind and body. This Sarcological knowledge being principally exercised in dis- covering the mental sympathies and characteristics con- nected with the different parts of the body, may be appro- priately called Sarcognomy. By this name we give it a position by the side of Physiognomy, which interprets the character of the face as Sarcognomy does of the body, revealing laws, connections, and sympathies of immense importance to the physician, the artist, and the teacher." I do not bring these doctrines and pretensions into view, in order to pronounce upon them. What their real worth may be, I am not well prepared to say. In general, they seem to me but fanciful, or worse. But I own, that I have read with more than ordinary interest, the portion of Bu- chanan's work devoted to Sarcognomy. There is a beau- tiful suggestiveness in much of this. Its author takes a picture of the Greek Slave, and treating it as craniologists would treat an image of the cranium, marks on it, here, this indication, there another, so distinguishing how the LEARNING for the millions. 189 development of body manifests the prominence, or want of prominence, of mental characters in individuals. But while I thus do justice to a system, which has not been well received beyond the limits of its merely popular recep- tion, I must point to it as illustrating how absurdly posi- tiveness is asserted as the character of systems, far more speculative than the metaphysical had often shown itself, before the day when all the scientific arrogated rank as positive. To this illustration we may add yet others. Moved by the consideration, that forensic learning can- not safely be entirely ignorant of the irregular, empirical, unwarranted, in anthropology—since lawyers may en- counter often such a question as arose in Nancy Farrer's case, concerning the opinion of experts—and by the fur- ther consideration, that in the unauthorized and unre- ceived in anthropology, we may encounter much, " Which, like a toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head," I once chose to purchase a small library in anthropology. It was not an expensive library. It promised to convey all necessary learning touching human nature, for a most reasonable consideration paid in money. All the books I purchased were prepared for popular enlightenment. Their learning was learning for the millions. At the shop of a blind phrenologist, I bought a paper- covered volume, price twenty-five cents, being Alfred Smee's " Principles of the Human Mind," together with a lecture by the same philosopher on " Electro-Biology, or the Voltaic Mechanism of Man." At the same time and place, I bought for fifty cents a like paper-covered volume, entitled " Mental Alchemy, a Treatise on the Mind, Nerv- ous System, Psychology, Magnetism, Mesmerism, and Diseases. In Twelve Chapters. By B. Brown Williams, M. D.;" and, for a like sum, I purchased a like copy of 190 EMBARRASSMENTS. " The Philosophy of Electrical Psychology; in a course of Twelve Lectures. By John Bovee Dods." All these books were published by a single New York house. How much the public honors " Positive Science;" how many readers works of science must attract; the facts just stated very well evince. But if, in sober seriousness, we are to recognize as science what the works alluded to con- tain, and if theology must yield to such advancement as they indicate, our churches should at once be stripped of all that marks their character, and be converted into col- leges of psychological professors. Mr. Buckle would not treat as scientific much that I have thus presented to the reader as pretended scientific systems. The suggestions of surpassing interest, to which he has alluded, do not rise from Biologic or Alchemic studies. At the cost of repetition, let me say, that if all that claims the authority of Positive Science must be hon- ored as such, confusion, taking the place of intelligent obedience, and perplexity, restraining the expression of a discriminating regard, may serve as our excuse for failing in the proper demonstrations of respect. We may submit, when Geology, setting up the altars of its novel Genesis, pronounces the major excommunication of science, not only against the heretic who denies, but against the skeptic who ventures to doubt, the authority of the new revelation. We may not murmur, when As- tronomy, altering the received scheme of creation, does unto death all antique believers in the stars. We may not resist, when Physiology, proving the existence of God and His attributes by Positive Science, studied in structural arrangement, thunders its fatal decree against all the Speculative Philosophy of Human Nature. We may even be amazed into silence, when Craniology hangs its map in CONCESSIONS. 191 the halls of science, and demands the undivided attention of the learned. Nay, more. We may follow the Gallian Phrenology, through all its phases, into its development and correction by our own Buchanan. But patience, be- ginning to grow faint when we encounter such a science as the learned Smee condenses into 347 lines of printed letters, pica, is exhausted, when we are commanded to pay all the honors due to what is positive in Science to the works of Davis or of Dods. I trust, however, none will understand me as denying to the truly scientific all that science fairly challenges from any, the most ardent, lover of the true in knowledge. I am anxious only to distinguish between what is positive in learning and what falsely arrogates that character, and to do but simple justice to the useful learning which may be discerned in metaphysical philosophy. I may add, that if, as I have suggested, we have lately revived the rage for science, which Macaulay has described among the follies and extravagances of a former period, our affectation is not such as should be most severely cen- sured. Our science has been positive enough to work a thousand wonders, soon reduced to blessings, in the realm of Art. Our day of the world is a day of material splen- dor and power; and we learn by the "perfectest report" of science and experience, that such material splendor and power, is sometimes wealth to the mind and the heart, as well as to the coffers, of the world. A day of the world, let us add, which subjects the tissues of the human body to the microscopic revelation of wonders, wondrously de- lineated, as soon as revealed, and with a precision mock- ing belief; which almost begins to demonstrate to the sensible eye how near this immaterial is to this material self; which, by making man better acquainted with his nature, enables him better to lay down the laws of his conduct; such a day promises to do much for Positive 192 RETURN TO METAPHYSICS. Science and for priceless truth. But we must not fancy in the mere promise its own fulfilment, or hasten to degrade all learning which does not assume the name of positive. If in what I have written of metaphysics, I have seemed to acquit the learning in question, of all dispara- ging criticism, I have not in fact overlooked the striking imperfections of its science of human nature. An obvious source of its errors and uncertainties has already been brought under observation, at least incidentally. It paid too little attention to Physiology, Hygienic as well as Pathological. Nor was the motive of this disregard very creditable to some of its disciples. Fear of ridicule, in- duced by some conspicuous failures to show the relation between bodily structure and mental constitution, induced the metaphysical philosopher to turn away from the stu- dies, in which these failures occurred. On the other hand, the effort to define the yet unknown, or the yet imperfectly known, or even the naturally inde- scribable, is often made by metaphysical philosophers. That they should often fail in their attempts, is not a cause of surprise. Nor need we be amazed, if we shall sometimes find the metaphysical philosopher delighted with supposed success in definition, when, in truth, he has deceived himself far more than enlightened others. The already mentioned temptation, which many writers find irresistible, to essay the description of the indescri- bable, and to essay the definition of what really defies all definition, deserves more attention than the learned have devoted to it. In the same connexion, it might be well to bring under observation the curious fact, that the very act of writing, or, rather, the contemplation on paper of thoughts signified by letters, especially if the letters be printed, will sometimes deceive the most modest writer into the belief, that there is a certainty in the thought signified, which it had not before it was joined to its symbol. An WHAT METAPHYSICS TEACH. 193 air of something like authority thus seems to lurk in printed letters. Facts like these, perhaps, account for much that is ex- ceptionable in the books of metaphysical philosophy. The arrogance by which some, the air of making us acquainted for the first time with long known truths, by which others, make their writings subject to unfriendly criticism, may be due to just such facts, as those to which I have referred. But, however this may be, in metaphysical philosophy the reasoning of learned men has well established certain theories, of which vulgar observation had not dreamed; and when we take a fair, comparative view of the collec- tion of facts and inferences contained in metaphysics, comparing it with any well known science, we shall find its facts as certain, and its inferences quite as useful, as the facts and inferences contained in any other system. They enforce moral lessons of the greatest interest to all the busy strugglers and competitors of civilized society. They warn us to attend, in order first to understand, and next to keep in mind, all our surroundings. They enable us to give direction to our thoughts by showing how they tend, when uncontrolled, and how we may control them. They distinguish between soundness and its opposite in reasoning. They show us what is madness by producing vividly before us the conception of a mind entirely free from every taint of the unwholesome and from all the wants of the defective. That the best metaphysical works do most of this by mere suggestion—just as Shakspeare paints a Perdita, or colors a Miranda — I admit. But they are not, therefore, so imperfect as to be contemptible. Without dwelling longer on my reasons for reserving liberty to draw from metaphysical philosophy, some por- tion of the light, in which I hope to make some explora- tions of the ground of Anthropology, I here reserve that 13 194 MEDICINE AND METAPHYSICS. liberty. I may not exercise it largely. In the works which Medicine has carefully prepared with reference not only to the Medical in Science, but to forensic purposes, I may find so much derived from metaphysics as to render it but seldom necessary to resort to the metaphysical works themselves. CHAPTER VI. THE SAME SUBJECT CONCLUDED. THE writer was chiefly moved to notice what has been objected against metaphysics, by the desire to prepare the reader for an estimate of Medicine, which otherwise might seem too hastily made up, if not too rudely brought before the public eye. In view of what I have already drawn from Physiology as part of the science due to Medicine, as well as in antici- pation of what I expect to derive from the same science, I should show myself insensible to obligation if I should approach the medical in science with any thing resem- bling disrespect. In truth, I could not speak without respect of Medicine as a science, save at the expense of feigning what I do not feel. But, as already intimated, I do not allow respect for any science or its cultivators to release me from allegiance to the truth. In Medicine, therefore, I cannot recognize that positive and certain science which some of its cultivators have discerned in it. That it is partly speculative—that its physiology is largely metaphysical—I wished to show before approaching such a view of it as that attempted here. That it is worthy of high honors, I do not deny, but rather shall endeavor plainly to display as we proceed. The great anthropological value of the science due to 196 BRANCHES OF MEDICINE. the necessity of providing for the cure of disease, will be apparent in a simple statement of the parts into which the science branches. First of all, we have Anatomy. Here, science as it were dissects the human body, in order to point out the number, shape, situation, structure, and connexion — in a word, of all the apparent properties, of organized bodies.* Another form of expression may be, that anatomy teaches the structure and relative position of the different parts of an organized body. Now to know the structure and rela- tion of the different parts of the human body is of great concern to all who wear the human shape. Its nearest in- terest, however, is to the physician, and its next succeed- ing importance is, perhaps, to lawyers practising in courts, which have the cognizance of crimes. But what more nearly touches us at present, is the value of anatomy con- sidered in relation to forensic physiology. This value is far less than the value of the same anat- omy considered in its relation to the physiology of medi- cine ; but some acquaintance with anatomy is quite essen- tial to the study of forensic physiology. We may draw from the anatomist somewhat as we proceed. In analysing Medicine as science, we encounter next that Physiology to which I am to be so much indebted in the present undertaking. Carpenter defines the object of this part of Medicine. This object is to bring together, in a systematic form, the phenomena, which normally present themselves during the existence of living beings; and to classify and compare these in such a manner, as to deduce from them those general laws or principles, which express the conditions of their occurrence, and to determine the causes to which they are attributable.1* But when we look (a) Dungl. Med. Die. tit. Anatomy. (b) Introduction to 5 Am. ed. In general, I quote from the smaller edition of 1855. PREFERENCE OF THE " OLD SCHOOL." 197 beyond the introduction, in which the learned Physiolo- gist so limits Physiology, we find some reason for regard- ing this part of medical science as really embracing nearly all contained in medicine. Not only is it treated as inclu- sive of Psychology, of which a definition is varied by Carpenter from his own definition of Physiology, showing its object to be " to bring together, in a systematic form, the phenomena which normally present themselves during the existence of thinking minds; and to classify," etc.;c but Physiology is treated as related to Pathology, Thera- peutics, Hygiene, and Forensic Medicine. And in the Psychological division of the book, we are very fully in- formed of phenomena which abnormally present themselves during the existence of thinking minds; just as, in other parts of the work, we find the author treating of defective and of excessive development, of normal and of abnormal growths, and the like. All this is eminently proper; and I point to it without objection. But I must explain, that, while I shall, like Carpenter, concern myself alike with the abnormal and the normal, I may not attempt to draw much light from works, distinctively relating to diseases and their remedy. With Materia Medica and Therapeutics, I may not concern myself at all. I have not more than glanced at them while looking into medicine as science. Yet in works devoted to these titles I have often found materials for such a physiology as I attempt to outline. And in works like that of Dr. Williams on the Principles of Med- icine, I find a most inviting presentation of Pathology. It will be observed, as we proceed, that I avoid discus- sion of the questions which divide the schools of Medicine. I do not regard myself as competent to engage in such discussion. I prefer the school denominated " old," and " regular," and " allopathic." I am governed in this pref- (c) Carp. Phys. 5 ed. 770. 198 SURGERY. erence by such presumptions as are honored in the law. I think, the well known facts of history make a prima facie case against the Homeopathists and others, who assail with bitterness the old established practice. But I am not sure that some eclectic system may not yet arise to such importance, as to call for sweeping changes in the theory and practice of regular Medicine. At Hygiene — or that part of medicine whose object is the preservation of health, I shall but glance from time to time as we proceed.3 I had almost forgotten the part of Hamlet in the play of Hamlet. I had almost, forgotten Surgery. This now noble and always useful art, was long treated with contempt, and was even lately held to most absurd responsibilities. But now it assumes its proper rank, and forces the respect of all true lovers of the useful and the wonderful in human art. I need not here refer to history in order to maintain what I have said respecting the once almost contemptible condition of the surgeon. Nor, I am rejoiced to add, need I produce the evidence that a better day has dawned on Surgery. All are familiar alike with its former poor estate and with its present honorable rank. But all may not be well acquainted with the manner in which law, enacted or defined, has distinguished surgeons and their art. " The province of a Surgeon," says a legal writer, " is confined to the reduction and cure of fractures, and other injuries affecting the limb, or such external ailments as may require the operation of the knife; it cannot be ex- tended to internal complaints or local diseases."e (d) Materia Medica is that division of medical science, which treats of the knowledge of medicines, their action on the animal economy and mode of ad- ministration. Dunglison. Pharmacy is described as " the art, which teaches the knowledge, choice, preservation, preparation, and combination of medicine."' lb. (e) 1 Steph. Nisi P. 310, referring to Allison v. Haydon, 4 Bing. 619. MR. MILLER ON SURGERY. 199 Mr. Miller, in his work on Surgery, refers to the word denominative of the art as originally signifying " the man- ual procedure, by means of instruments or otherwise, di- rected towards the repair of injury, and the cure of dis- ease; in contradistinction to the practice of Medicine, which denotes the treatment of disease by the administra- tion of drugs, or other substances supposed to be of a sanative tendency."f Even if we take this medical description of the Sur- geon's art precisely as it stands, it shows a great defect in the legal definition. But this is not all. Mr. Miller pro- ceeds : " Such a meagre description applied but too justly to surgery in its infancy, and still more after its separa- tion from its twin-sister medicine, in the twelfth century. When its practice was denounced by the Council of Tours as derogatory to the dignity of the sacred office of the priesthood, and beneath the attention of all men of learn- ing, the term chirurgery, in its most literal interpretation, was quite sufficient to comprehend the duties of the de- graded and uninformed surgeon, who had degenerated into a mere mechanic, attached to, and completely de- pendent on, the learned and philosophic physician. But the matured progress of the healing art, fortunately for science and humanity, has rendered such a definition of surgery in these days utterly untenable. Its com- plete separation from medicine would now be attended with the utmost difficulty; nor is it desirable that the at- tempt should be made, because its success, however partial and imperfect, would be most hurtful to both. They are now, and it is to be hoped will ever remain, one and in- separable. Their principles are the same throughout, and the exercise of their different branches requires the same fundamental knowledge; but their details are so numer- ous and intricate as to render it most difficult, if not im- (f) Historical Notice, prefixed to Miller's Principles of Surgery. 200 LINE BETWEEN SURGERY AND PHYSIC. possible, for any one individual to cultivate all with equal success. The consequence has been, that while the theory and principles of physic and surgery remain united, as constituting one and the same science, the practical parts are now frequently separated into distinct professions; each person adopting that department most congenial to his pursuits, and for the management of which he con- ceives himself best qualified." It is to be observed, however, in defence of the some- what narrow legal definition of surgery, that under the English rules of law, it was, and it may continue to be, necessary to find the line which separates the surgical from the other part of medicine. Barristers and physicians were unable to maintain an action for their fees, " thus," as it has been observed, "forming an exception to the general principle, that he who bestows his labor for an- other is entitled to an adequate compensation."8 Sur- geons and apothecaries on the other hand, might, besides their charges for medicine, recover such charges for at- tendance as the jury should consider to be fair and reason- able.11 Legal purposes, therefore, required the fixation of a line—or the attempt to fix a line—between the province of the surgeon and that of the physician. It was, I need not add, impossible to fix any such line. For, says the learned writer already referred to, "many and labored " — and, he might have added, entirely in vain — "have been the attempts to define surgery according to its present state, so as to prevent interference with the de- partment of physic." This example, Mr. Miller will not follow. He considers, that the arrangement as to what is medical and what surgical, must, in a great measure, depend on custom, not on fixed and permanent rules. (g) 1 Steph. N. P. 310. It is added, however, that " no action can be main- tained against a counsel for negligence, or to recover a fee given to argue a cause which he did not attend." (h) Handey v. Henson, 4 C. & P. 110. LOCKE AND STEWART V. SHAKSPEARE AND MOLIERE. 201 I am unable to anticipate the answer to the question, how far is surgery a source for such a physiology as that here outlined ? But I thought it only proper thus to rec- ognize the value and the dignity of Surgery, so long de- graded and contemned, now taking elevated rank among the arts of civilized society. The only remaining sources of light for our intended exploration, which I think it necessary to examine ere proceeding to the body of the task I have imposed upon myself, are: " the mirror of life, contained in history, poetry, the novel, criticism, and general literature;" and " the observation of popular manners, customs, and modes of thought." In these, as in the "personal experience and self-study," which I have also recognized as a source of the Floating Philosophy of the Bar, the lawyer grows familiar with those standards or ideals, with which he may compare all cases of supposed abnormity, or with reference to which he may ascertain the harmony of given charac- ters, when that becomes an object. We shall see, hereafter, that the same learned medical writer, who will be found pointing to the creations of Shakspeare and Moliere as better teachers of mental phi- losophy than Locke and Stewart, has denied the value of the standards or ideals alluded to with reference to such a purpose as that, with reference to which I hold them priceless. We shall give attention in another place to his opinion. For the present, let us simply point with him to Shakspeare and Moliere, as worthy teachers in the school of anthropology. In the succeeding chapter, we shall find that not the poet only, but the painter and the sculptor, have so pic- tured human life, as to deserve respect in a forensic Physi- ology. And yet I cannot fail to foresee, that my work may be subjected to unfavorable criticism, in so far as it thus re- 202 IMAGINATIVE ART. cognizes ideal Art as a source of Physiology. True, none dispute that history, which teaches by example, is a proper source of Physiology. Indeed, the Physiologists have lately shown a disposition to invade the province of the histo- rian.1 And some historians invent a Physiology with reference to history j But when I thus allow Imagination to assist us with examples, I may be informed, that I for- get the proper dignity of science. And the fearful prece- dent of one Macaulay may be cited as a warning against the proposed consultation of the poets, the painters and the sculptors. Even if such consultation should in truth involve a loss or lowering of the severe and solemn dignity of scientific treatises, I have already shown, that I would not regard it as objectionable in a work like this. This is a familiar Forensic View. And I am not convinced that the Mac- aulay precedent contains the warning which to some may be apparent in it. If Macaulay has forgotten, sometimes, what historians ought never to forget, I cannot find the cause in his determination to consult the poets and the novelists, the pamphleteers and the journalists, as well as grave and reverend and recognized " authorities." In very truth, I am compelled to own, that if I could not turn from the "authorities" in Physiology and Meta- physics to Shakspeare and his fellows, I would be inclined to doubt, at times, the value of Psychology in any form. It is in studying the scientific portraitures of Man, and even scientific treatises of the other contents of the sphere in which man's life is active, that we feel so often the uncer- tainty and littleness of human knowledge. Science, even when conversant with the simply natural, as I define it, often seems but vain and useless speculation. Nature often gleams upon us through the theories of science as the (i) See Draper's Physiology, Chapter on " Social Mechanics." (j) See Buckle's Hist, of Civ. in Eng., Vol. 1, ch. I. IMAGINATION TEACHING BY EXAMPLES. 203 yet unpenetrated mystery, unknown—unsearchable. The sighs of Goethe and of Felltham then recur to recollection. With the former, we are ready to exclaim, that though surrounded by the natural, and unable to recede from its embraces, we are still unable to attain to deeper insight into nature.k With the little known but interesting author of " Resolves, Divine, Moral and Political," we often feel inclined to confess with sadness, that we can " sound Na- ture" only "in the shallows of her revelations. We may trace her to her second causes; but beyond them, we meet with nothing but the puzzle of the soul, and the dazzle of the mind's dim eyes." It is in the works of science, that we find, that "learning is like a river, whose head being far in the land is at first rising, little, and easily viewed; not without pleasure and delightful winding, while it is on both sides set with trees, and the beauties of various flow- ers. But still the further you follow it, the deeper and the broader 'tis; till at last it inwaves itself in the un- fathomed ocean; there you see more water, but no shore —no end of that liquid fluid vastness." In the study of the poets, and the painters, and the sculptors, we are reassured a little. Here we find imagin- ation teaching by examples, even as we find history—in which imagination is involved—a teacher by examples. Novels, poems, in a word, ideal art of all descriptions, may be treated as a species of history and of historical philosophy. The higher, purer efforts of the reason are involved in poetic Art. Imagination, as hereafter we may see more plainly, is the understanding dealing with ideal objects, just as it at other times is conversant with reality. I shall not, therefore, scruple to acknowledge Art of all (k) "Natur! wir sind von ihr umgeben und umschlungen ; unvermoegend aus ihr herauszutreten, und unvermoegend tiefer in sie hinein zu kommen...... Sie schafft ewig nene Gestalten ; was da ist, war noch nie ; was war, kommt nicht wieder; alles ist neu, und doch immer das Alte." 204 FORENSIC VALUE OF IDEAL ART. descriptions as a source of this Forensic Physiology. I shall, indeed, begin the effort, which I here approach, to bring before the reader some portion of the contents of such Physiology, by looking into the poetic Arts for in- troductions and suggestions. Let the issue test the justness or the erroneousness of such a mode of introducing what we are about to study. I am quite content with such a test. CHAPTER VII. VIEW OF AN IDEAL STANDARD MAN. ART has often taxed Imagination to conceive Ideals of Humanity as perfect. Pictures of the Savior may be mentioned as among the proofs of this assertion. Sculp- ture also furnishes some illustrations — as in the Apollo Belvidere and the Laocoon. The Apollo Belvidere displays the god "in a movement of indignation against the serpent Python, which he has just killed with arrow-shots, and in a sentiment of con- tempt for a victory so little worthy of a divinity. The wise artist, who proposed to represent the most beautiful of the gods, placed the anger in the nose, which, accord- ing to the ancients, was its seat; and the disdain on the lips. He expressed the anger by the inflation of the nos- trils, and the disdain by the elevation of the under lip, which causes the same movement in the chin." Such is the result of-the analysis of Winkelmann.a It is plain, therefore, that the Apollo Belvidere will not supply us with the realized conception of a perfect human being. What is wanting is not the reduction of the god to the level of the man. Anthropomorphic art sought only to express idealized humanity in its objective conceptions of the gods. Greek art, especially, could hardly look above (a) Quoted in Cousin's Lee. on the True, Beautiful and Good—Lee. VII, 206 THE APOLLO AND THE LAOCOON. idealized humanity for the conception of divinity. It would not be impossible, therefore, to discover in the cele- brated statue of Apollo as described by Winkelmann, and after him by the philosopher, Cousin,b the characters of perfect but mere humanity, if only what Lavater calls the physiognomonic state of the divinity had been depicted. Physiognomonic character is character at rest; the pa- thognomonic is the character in motion. Character at rest alone displays perfection. The Apollo is but slightly removed from the physiognomonic state; but it is not perfectly at rest. The Laocoon is, I would say, from the descriptions I have read, a noble effort, to balance in an "admirable equi- poise," as Schlegel has it, " the efforts of the body in • enduring, and of the mind in resisting." The story of Laocoon is known to readers. At the altar of his god, engaged in sacrifice, the priest beholds his children in the serpent's coils, and, vainly offering to aid them, is himself involved in their destruction. How the sculptor has suc- ceeded in expressing this catastrophe, let Schlegel tell us: " The children calling for help, tender objects of com- passion, not of admiration, recall our eyes to the father, who seems to be in vain uplifting his eyes to the gods. The wreathed serpents represent to us that inevitable des- tiny which often involves all the parties of an action in one common ruin. And yet the beauty of proportion, the agreeable flow of the outline, are not lost in this violent struggle; and a representation, the most appalling to the senses, is yet managed with forbearance, while a mild breath of gracefulness is diffused over the whole." Of course, the writer never has examined any remark- ably well executed picture of the sculptured group alluded to. Indeed, having seen nothing but pictures of it, the best executed picture he has seen is but a wood-cut. Yet he (b) Lee. VII. PICTURES AND IMAGES OF THE SAVIOR. 207 fancies that pen-pictures such as that of Schlegel have en- abled him to form a not remarkably inaccurate conception of the Laocoon. Laocoon, himself, alone attracts attention here. He is the central figure, and the most attractive feature, of the group. In his sublime endeavor to preserve the balance of endurance and resistance, he approaches nearly to our highest, true conceptions of humanity. Per- haps, if features more Adamic, if I may be suffered so to speak, had been depicted in his countenance—if he had been portrayed as representative of Man, and not as rep- resentative of a single type of humanity—we might have found Laocoon an unexceptionable realization of the ideal of perfect humanity, in a noble exaltation of its powers. But the state of the Laocoon, however beautifully it may balance endurance and resistance, is not such a state as we desire to find depicted in the portraiture of human per- fection. Even when we come to the attempts to represent the physical characters of the Savior, we can only hope to find the indication of perfection in such pictures as display the look and bearing of the Savior at a time not nearly con- nected with the passion. But, after all, the Savior is the only conceivable repre- sentative of perfect humanity. The painters have, I think, endeavored to avoid the Jewish physiognomy, while aim- ing to express a just conception of the Savior. That they have, in every instance, failed in some particular, cannot surprise us. In the first place, while avoiding Jewish physiognomy, the painter has not always well avoided that peculiar to his own nationality, while forming the conception of the outward look of the Savior. In the next place, while forming such conception, the conception of the moral qualities of Jesus as God-Man would always be attempted, and would always be imperfect. Thus, the artist being 208 IDEAL STANDARD MAN. but imperfect man, has always failed in his ideal of the Savior. But, moreover, painters have in general, failed also in expressing on the canvas even their ideal of the Savior. Yet the purpose of the artist, in attempting to produce a statue or a picture of the Savior, has always been, simply, to conceive and represent an ideal standard man, through whom, indeed, the Deity might seem to shine with more than human luminousness, but who should be after all but perfect man. Perhaps, the very sense of the divinity of Jesus may account for all the failures to portray His body as express- ive of His mind. However this may be, a plain, unques- tionable failure always is discernible in the attempts of art in this direction. Features representative of nationality, and a figure representative of a division of the race rather than of the race itself, may be pointed out in all the well known pictures and images of the Savior. I have pointed to these examples for a double purpose. In the first place, I desire to remind the reader, that the conception of an ideal type, or standard man, is not im- possible. In the second place, I wish to remind my fellow- students, that such a conception is not easy, when it is attempted for a given purpose. I believe, that we are constantly, though quite uncon- sciously, comparing our conceptions of the human beings who surround us, with a more or less inaccurate conception of a standard man, which we have formed, we know not how. And I desire my fellow-students to correct, as far as they may be able to correct, the standard conception with which they are accustomed to compare their concep- tions of individuals. For, intending to examine human life as it appears in the differential characters produced by varieties of organization, age, sex, size, shape, and the like, I wish to begin with the examination of life as it appears in an ideal standard man. The ideal standard here allu- NATURE OF THE ATTEMPTED CONCEPTION. 209 ded to is such as the anatomist conceives when he describes the place, the form, the size, the connexions, and the con- stituents, of the components of the human body. It is such as the physiologist conceives when he examines func- tions and their modifications.0 It is such as the patholo- gist conceives when he describes the deviations from the standard of health, their causes, the elements of the com- plex states and actions involved in them, their phenomena, their symptoms, and the like.d It is such as, notwith- standing Dr. Ray's opinion,6 I maintain, each competent observer of insanity regards while examining supposed evidences of disordered mind. And finally, it is such as human laws regard, when pointing out the modes of art- ful life, the limitations of legal restraint, the boundaries of individual freedom, the discriminations necessary to distinguish guilt from innocence. It may not be precisely what I thought it, when, in another form of publica- tion, I ventured to relate it to the very constitution of the national varieties of government. The legislator, such as Moses, Solon, Alfred, may not have regarded it, when forming the conception of a polity adapted to a people. But that it may be conceived—that such a standard may be used for purposes of grave importance—that, although unconsciously, we all regard it with a greater or a less ap- proximation to correctness, I have not a doubt. At all events, with reference to the design of our in- tended studies, the conception of an ideal type or standard man may be of great advantage. I intend to make the effort to produce, suggestively, at least, the outline por- traiture of such a man. While making such an effort, we shall have, of course, some glimpses of the deviations from the standard. We shall not be able to produce the por- (c) Compare Draper, Hum. Phys. 565, with Carpenter (5 ed.), § 1041, § 1045. (d) Williams, Princ. Med. §§ 5 and 7. (e) Med. Jur. Insan., § 114, § 115. 14 210 STANDARD FOR ALL THE WORLD. trait of a standard man without some reference to the varieties of differential character, which, after the produc- tion of the portrait, we design to bring into comparison with the suggestively delineated standard. But the value of the conception of the ideal of a standard man will not be thereby lessened. We shall find as we proceed abund- ant reason for proceeding as I prefer to proceed in this particular. I am aware, that Dr. Carpenter has intimated that a work of Mental Physiology, in which the development of human life from its beginning moments should be traced, would be of great value. And I do not question that it would. But after all, could any one begin to write, could any one begin to study, such a work, without such a con- ception of a standard man as that I have supposed ? A standard man for all the human race would not be a man of commanding stature. He would measure just five feet four inches/ JSor would he in any thing move us to admiration, when compared with other men, until atten- tive scrutiny should slowly recognize his close approxima- tion to perfection. H, indeed, a theory of Beauty such as might be made from the materials supplied by St. Augus- tine and Buffier might be accepted, we might find in such a man a standard of the beautiful. But we should not, on first observing such an individual, pronounce him beautiful, or approach him with the awe with which we near commanding forms of our humanity. He would be neither weighty nor the opposite. He would be neither so strong as to excite our wonder, nor so weak as to excite compassion. All his qualities would be of moder- ate and even character, and all would be assembled in the harmony of moderation. All his moral qualities would be in harmony with this description of his body. Mind and body both, in other words, would be entirely free from what (f) Draper's Physiology, 540, citing Quetelet. STANDARD FOR CHRISTENDOM. 211 amazes us in greatness, or delights us in the eccentricities of genius, or awakes our sympathy in the remarkably imper- fect. Here, however, as in all varieties of man, we should perceive the "looking upward "of the life of man—its pres- ent imperfections, and its expectations of the perfect life to come. Religion here as elsewhere sets its seal on our hu- manity. A higher elevation seems the proper rank of such a standard man as we have here the interest to bring before our minds for observation. Such a standard man as we are interested to observe, is not a standard for the human race. He is only a standard for Christendom. And such a standard man is of a greater altitude in body and in mind, than would be such a standard man as we could look upon as representative of all mankind. To find his height precisely is not here important. Nor is it important to distinguish his precise temperament. He may be of the Blond Race or the Brown Race, accord- ing to the system of the learned surgeon,s who describes these races as primitive in Europe. Yet I would prefer to think him an American of the composite order, in which all our promise of true greatness is manifest. And if there is a real " tonic " temperament—of which a word or two hereafter—I would much prefer to have my stand- ard man considered as approximating that peculiar com- bination of varieties in action and in tendency. I do not look for any thing like accuracy in our stand- ard portraiture, although the reader fully aid me in the task of its delineation. But the reader must assist me, or I must inevitably fail in all I undertake. The reader must conceive, as clearly as he can, the bod- ily and mental character of some one whom he can regard as approximating such a standard as is here in question. When he has succeeded pretty well in this particular, he may begin to look into the books of science, with a view (g) Bodichon. Quoted in Types of Mankind, 106. 212 FORMATION OF THE NEEDED CONCEPTION. to the correction of his conception. Here, among other things, he will encounter Dr. Ray's suggestion, as to the defect of metaphysical descriptions of humaninty. Not perfectly agreeing, perhaps, with the learned Medicus, he will not overlook the metaphysical delineations of a stand- ard man. Proceeding out of physiological metaphysics into what I might be suffered to denominate mere meta- physics, he will crown his studies with the study of Shak- spearian portraitures of character. If he will do so, faithfully, and if he can return to these poor studies after such a preparation for them, he may well assist me to sug- gest the portrait of a standard man, such as we here desire to contemplate. If, however, the importance of the object here proposed should seem to warrant more extensive preparation, Art as it exists in painting or in statuary may be studied with advantage. But I warn the reader, that he will probably discover what may much surprise him in this respect. It will be more in poetry and in the background of the cel- ebrated pictures, than in sculpture that he will encounter models. For, the chisel chiefly images remarkable pecul- iarities of human nature. And our standard man is neither an Apollo nor an ^Esop. So it is with painting. In the foregrounds of the pictures, we admire the noble or the wonderful in some of its varieties, far oftener than we discern the simple representatives of our humanity. If it is but seldom that we find in statuary or in the foregrounds of pictures, what we seek, be sure we are not to detect it in the sighing, speculative Hamlet, in the rash Othello, or in him whom " fate and metaphysical aid " be- trayed into the murder of the sleeping Duncan. None of these are for our purpose. Even the Laertes whom Po- lonius painted, would be too remarkable a man — and, on the other hand, would not, in moral traits, be equal to the needed standard. In Laertes so portrayed, we have the ITS RESULT. 213 perfect model of a prudent man, with not a little dash of the heroic. But the noble qualities which He, who lived the model life of Christians, left for Christian imitation, are entirely wanting in the chamberlain's description of Laertes, as the father hoped to find him when perfected at the court of France. In such a standard man as we are seeking, much that old Polonius wished to find devel- oped in Laertes must appear; but christian faith and charity, of which Polonius spoke not, must be part of the distinctive character of him we seek. Yet, I repeat, when we shall find our standard man, the sense of wonder will not be exalted till we shall have scrutinized him closely. For, as I have already intimated, nothing awakening a special admiration, nothing disa- greeable, no marked peculiarity of any kind, must be dis- cernible in such a standard man as I attempt to bring before the reader by these suggestions. He must be a man in whom we recognize the representative, but not the hero of the multitude. In person neither tall nor short, neither thin nor fat; in movement neither heavy nor light; in action neither awkward nor uncommonly dex- terous ; in mind neither narrow nor remarkably compre- hensive ; neither brilliant nor dull; neither notably strong nor notably weak; such is the character, in mind and body, of the desired ideal type or standard man. And yet, when we consider what mysteries of wish and aim — what hidden hatreds or what secret loves — what powers either for the good or for the evil—are alive with- in this naked and unweaponed man, we cannot near him rudely or too freely. We might almost say with Herder, as we near this common, unimposing human being, " where is the hand that shall grasp that which resides beneath the skull of man ? Who shall approach the sur- face of that now tranquil, now tempestuous abyss ? Like as the Deity has ever been adored in sacred groves, so is 214 DISSOLVING VIEWS OF MAN. the Lebanon, the Olympus of man, that seat of the secret power of the Divinity, overshadowed! We shudder at contemplating the powers contained in so small a circum- ference, by which a world may be enlightened, or a world destroyed." But it is not the "Plastik" of a writer such as Herder that can most exalt our wonder or excite our fear as we approach the human being, to observe what is apparent to the sight of nature, and to look through this into the in- ward man as only science could enable us to look. We may indulge poetical conceits while we are gazing on the mere exterior of man. But when, with scientific instru- ments, we look quite through " the blooming tincture of the skin," we cannot dwell in poet fancies. Speculation, with the light of science, does indeed discern materials for yet un- written poems, in the most interior structure of the human body. Even the bases of the forming structure of the body are not hidden from this scientific speculation. It detects the blastema or cyto-blastema, the apparently homogeneous glass-like medium, in which the microscope reveals the nucleolus, and the nucleus, and the cell-wall of the little cell, which some theorists have erroneously fan- cied to be the universal primitive form of every tissue.h Tissues of a wonderful variety appear to us, as, with the light of science, we illuminate the body of our standard man, that we may see what even microscopic scrutiny, un- aided by scientific logic, could not show us. Here we find the tissues, known as primary, which science may present to us in such dissolving views as we have seen in dioramas. Thus the tissue which subserves the mechanism of the frame in the various forms of areolar or connective tissue,1 (h) Morton Hum. Anat. 20. (i) Simple fibrous. THE TISSUES. 215 as in tendons, ligaments, aponeuroses, and the like,J" ap- pears to our inspection. It is followed by the membranes known as Fibro-Cellular — composite structures, showing textures of the interwoven fibres, simple basement mem- brane covering the surface of these, and one or more lay- ers of cells upon the free surface of the basement-mem- brane. This appears in the exterior covering of the body, in the mucous membranes prolonged from the skin through all its open cavities, and in serous and synovial membranes. Tissues known as purely cellular are next revealed to observation. Here we find the tissue known as adipose. The study of this tissue is suggestive, va- riously. It suggests excessive and deformed development, and with it some peculiar and absurd ideals of the beau- tiful. But, as we shall perceive hereafter, woman's beauty, and the beauty which appears in children, are indebted to this tissue for no little portion of their loveliness. At present we cannot permit ourselves to dwell upon the aesthetic relations of adipose tissue. We must note as part of the tissue known as cellular, the cartilaginous—with which we may contrast the " sclerous " tissues, bones and teeth, which next appear. Here also we can only pause a moment. But the bones perform such offices in artful oper- ations, and in guarding and upholding all the inward frame, that we cannot dismiss them with mere mention. Bony cavities contain the tissue, which will prove of highest interest in these investigations — that called nervous — though the bones be not permitted to approach the neurine with too rough embraces. That they share with membranes the defence of nervous matter, that they serve the nerves and muscles in expressing the emotions and volitions, that they are the strong sustaining frame of the body, must invest them with no common interest in obser- vations such as these. But now we must allow them to (j) Apononeuroses are white shining membranes. 216 THE BLOOD. dissolve a moment, while we view another tissue which may seem of even greater interest. What we here observe is that system of tubular tissues, seen in the blood vessels and in the absorbents. The nature of the contents—not constituents—of the blood vessels, even as discerned by minds quite unfamiliar to the light of anatomy and physiology, is such that we must give it close attention. We are not required, indeed, to measure the corpuscles which the microscope detects in the constituents of blood. Some notion of their wonderful minuteness may be formed from the consideration of the name by which the smallest vessels are distinguished. Blood corpuscles, as contained in capillaries* must be very small. And it may aid us to appreciate the interest of such an observation as the present, to consider this mi- nuteness of the blood, corpuscles. But the nice examina- tions of anatomy and physiology need not be here attempt- ed. It may be enough to note a few particulars, preparing us to view the yet remaining objects of concern to our investigation. The performances of blood throughout the system may be here considered chiefly with mere reference to the functions of digestion, respiration, nutrition, secre- tion, and excretion, some of which may seem entirely dis- connected with the blood, but all of which are nearly related to the circulation. In the circulation itself, how- ever, is the object of our greatest interest in this examina- tion. This is manifest as visiting with the arterial current all the tissues of the body, and especially the nervous matter. Blood and neurine are distinguished as the only all-pervading contents of the body.1 In a portion of the neurine, known as generating nerve-force—for I venture so to designate itm—we discern the presence of the blood, (k) From capillus, a hair. (1) Holland, Mental Physiology, 273. (m) Sir Henry Holland is more cautious. But of this hereafter. ARTERIAL AND VENOUS BLOOD. 217 and note the differences in the colors of the blood. Arte- rial blood is recognized as that required with reference to what we call nutrition, and to the already mentioned generation of the nervous force. Regarding in the latter something which we may discriminate from that in which it acts, and making like discrimination of the so-called mind-force from the mind in which it acts, and of which it is the immediate instrument, we find that sanguine states have much to do with the proper action of these forces. We are told, that if the scarlet or red-colored blood be not prepared for its accustomed visit to the mat- ter of the brain, and venous or dark-colored blood be substituted for it, some phenomena of curious interest ensue. The forces recognized as mental and as nervous are thereby disordered. Death by drowning has been studied with the purpose of comprehending these phe- nomena. And some phenomena which are not fatal have been studied with the like design. If I have understood what I have read as the results of these examinations, I may mention some of a decidedly forensic interest. It seems, that not only in the presence in the blood of toxic agents, such as alcohol and other poisons, but in any state of blood which shows the venous characters where the arterial are proper, we may find the source of mental action in the nature of insanity.11 And we shall find here- after, that emotional conditions, which disturb the circu- lation, are productive of effects analogous to those already mentioned. I will not at present enter into discussion of the questions thus suggested. I have only purposed in the present observation to distinguish leading characters of tissues, and their obvious relations to the mental and the nervous forces, in the correlation of which the mind and the body seem to have their yet mysterious union. But I ought to note, in this connexion, that " oxygena- (n) Brodie, Mind and Matter, Dialogue III. 218 CONNEXIONS OF THE CIRCULATION. tion" of the blood, which seems to have relations of such interest to normal action of the mental and the nervous forces. Here we find another illustration of the wonderful dependence of the artful life of man, as I define that life, on vegetative life as known in physiology, and of the like dependence of the latter on the atmosphere of nature which surrounds all human life of all descriptions. Nature, which according to my notion of the natural, composes part of animal existence—even part of mind—here mani- fests itself as reaching into the interior organism of the human being, to perform an office of exceeding interest and beauty. The oxygenation of the blood is this most interesting office. Here we find the blood, which, in its visitations for nutrition, has contracted what we call its venous characters, restored to its lost characters by the removal of the deleterious carbon, and prepared for the renewed performance of the function known as nutritive. We need not scrutinize the pulmonary system. It is enough to note it as we pass. The blood is our concern at present, and especially the blood as it appears in the " intimate connexion of the nervous and vascular systems." But before proceeding to a further view of that connex- ion, let us merely notice the absorbent system. Interposed between the walls of the intestine and the sanguiferous system, we discover vessels, taking up imper- fectly solved components of the nutritive matter, and pre- paring them for introduction into the sanguine current.0 But, in addition to these "absorbents of the intestinal walls," we find yet others, of a higher order. I will not describe the glands and vessels which make up the system, nor will I discuss the question, of " the degree in which the function of nutritive absorption is performed by the lacteals and the sanguiferous system respectively."p It may suffice to note, that "the whole absorbent system (o) Carpenter (5th ed.), 439. (p) lb. 442. NERVE-FORCE AND THE CIRCULATION. 219 may be looked upon as constituting one great Assimilating Gland, dispersed through the body at large," of which the leading purposes are nearly related to sanguification.^ We may also properly refer in this connexion to secre- tion. This we chiefly see in glands, elaborating or sepa- rating the materials of the blood at the very extremities of the arterial system, or rather of the vascular excretory system.1 All of the secretions are connected nearly with emotional conditions, and the lachrymal and lacteal are of special interest in any study of the nearness of the body to the mind. We need not longer keep away from the intended fur- ther view of blood in its intimate connexion with the nervous system. Physiologists, here speaking as anatomists as well as physiologists, have pointed out "the close and constant intertexture of nerves and blood vessels throughout every part of the body, and especially in those organs whence the nerves originate, and in the sentient surfaces over which they are diffused."fl Finding the nervous distribution of the blood as chiefly notable in what we shall distinguish as the cineritious or vesicular description of nervous matter, we are not sur- prised to learn, that the capillaries perform the more important offices of the blood. The mechanism in which these performances occur is described as " a mechanism of parts, vascular or interstitial, so exquisitely minute and complex, that our finest instruments can hardly find access to the spaces within which they are included." * It may be proper to subjoin, that the only known all- pervading agents in the human body are the blood and (q) See at large Carpenter's Chapter on Absorption and Sanguification, Phys. (5th ed.), 438. (r) Dungl. Med. Die, tit. Secretion. (s) Mental Physiology, 272. (t) lb. 220 THE KINDS OF BLOOD AGAIN. the nervous force. "We cannot designate a single portion in the whole economy of animal life in which we do not find these two great powers conjointly concerned; their co-operation so essential that no single function can ap- parently be performed without it; their relative parts in action so determinate that disorder ensues, if either one or the other is deficient or in excess." u The so-called vitality of the blood is more important in another species of Physiology than in the present. So are all the questions raised upon the supposition of the inner- vation of the vital fluid. Whether nervous influence do or do not affect the blood, as those who argue for the innerva- tion of the latter have supposed, we know enough to satisfy us of the near relation which subsists between the nervous matter and the blood. To what we have already seen of this relation, we may add, though it involve some repetition, that with reference to it we must distinguish the arterial from the venous blood. Thus, though we have not thought it necessary to describe the capillaries with minuteness, we are led to notice the distinctions of the vascular system, so far as to remember, that arteries convey the bright red- colored blood employed for the nutrition of the tissues; that veins are the returning channels of the dark-colored blood; and that the capillaries form the net-work of connexion be- tween veins and arteries. We may be interested to exam- ine the relation between the nervous matter and the blood on remembering, that the " influence of the scarlet or arterial blood is necessary to the due performance of the cerebral functions. If dark-colored or venous blood be substituted for it, and transmitted to the brain by the ar- teries, the animal lapses......into a state of total insen- sibility to external impressions." Considering this fact as established according to the views of Bichat, Sir B. Brodie proceeds to observe : " We cannot be surprised that blood (u) Mental Phys. 273. GENERAL VIEW OF THEIR FUNCTIONS. 221 of an inferior quality, or containing something which healthy blood should not contain, may disturb the func- tions of the brain, so as even to affect the mind itself." v It may not be of practical importance in this course of studies, to determine how it is that the disturbance of the brain is occasioned by the venous blood. But it may be of interest to add, that the phenomena of drowning have been studied with reference to this subject. By the action of the heart in one drowning, venous blood must be trans- mitted to the brain. In two or three minutes, the sensi- bility as to external impressions, and the power of volun- tary movement, are suspended or destoyed. And it is maintained by those who have studied these phenomena, that they are chiefly due to the fact that "the dark-colored blood affects the brain simply by a negative influence; by depriving it of that, whatever it may be, which exists in the scarlet blood, but not in the dark-colored blood, and which is necessary to the generation of the nervous force." w It cannot be entirely uninteresting, however, to note that the near connexion of the blood with nervous force and nervous action is but part of its importance to the life of Man. Taking its components from the organic and inorganic constituents of food, it yields to each tissue of the body those constituents of the tissue, which either pre-exist as such in the blood, or may be chemically trans- formed from the latter. It also furnishes the means of removing the effete particles, which are freed by the dis- integration of the tissues.* And it is to be added, that introducing oxygen from the atmosphere, and taking carbonic acid to the lungs and skin that it may be elimi- nated, blood performs a service like to that in which we have just encountered it as aiding in construction and re- moving the products of waste. The presence of oxygen (v) Mind and Matter, Dialogue Third. (w) lb., Dialogue Fourth. (x) Carpenter (5 ed.), 154. 222 THE MUSCULAR TISSUE. " appears to be an essential condition of the peculiar vital activity of the nervous and muscular tissues." y What is the necessity of eliminating carbonic acid needs not to be stated. We have seen it in the difference between arterial and venous blood. Other services are performed by the blood; but these are all we need remember as we pass. Whatever else needs mention, may be mentioned hereafter. So many actions of the mind, though operative first of all in nervous matter find expression in the actions popu- larly known as muscular, that we may well proceed from the examination of the blood to that of muscle. Of the delicate performances of muscle in the hand and in the parts connected with the management of language, we have seen a little. I do not expect to make these much more intelligible, or to make their wonderful variety much more apparent, by my draught upon anatomists and physiologists in this connexion. But I think it may be well to look a little into the learning alluded to with reference to muscular tissue and the functions of the muscles. Muscle plays no undistinguished part in human life. In dignity, it seems to occupy a place below the nervous matter and the blood. But its connexion with organic life is most important; and its offices with reference to the volitional in man are of a yet more remarkable descrip- tion. Voluntary life, the life of Art, employs the muscles largely. But the wonders we behold in muscular ex- pression of volition, whether in manual performances or in vocal action, are not all that moves the sense of wonder, when we treat of muscles. Some emotional ex- citements find expression through the nerve and muscle, not alone without the intervention of the will, but even in contempt of the volitions! Will, as we shall see hereafter, (y) Carpenter '2 ed.), 154. CONTRACTILITY. 223 is not always master of emotion, or of instrumental action, such as commonly expresses will. This is a point of first importance in the study of the differential characters of age, of sex, and of disease. It will be more apparently of interest hereafter, but we ought to note it as we pass, and we cannot too often bring it into proper estima- tion. The relations of the tissue here in question to the ner- vous system cannot be examined without some reference to quantity, etc., as they will presently engage attention in respect of nervous force. Sir Henry Holland, having learnedly discussed quantity, quality, and intensity, with reference to nervous force, proceeds to view the contractil- ity of muscles with like reference. He refers to mooted questions touching the relation of the nervous matter to the proper contractility of muscular fibre. These, he tells us, " principally regard the varying proportion which the nervous and muscular powers bear to each other in the numerous phenomena of action, exhaustion, intermission, and reparation: and further, their respective relations in the voluntary and involuntary muscular actions — a phys- iological problem of high interest, but not less obscurity."z According to this learned writer the quantity of muscular contractility is like that of the nervous power, " of very variable amount; depending partly on its expenditure in action, partly on other natural or morbid conditions of the body. But in themselves the two powers [muscular contractility and nervous power] are independent and dis- similar. They have their origin in different sources; and presumably often exist at the same time in very different proportions and capacity for action."a I am not aware, that any of the purposes which lie be- fore us call for nice examination of the two orders of mus- cular tissue, known, respectively, as striped and unstriped, (z) Mental Physiology (2 Lond. ed.), 324. (a) lb. 324. 224 THE NERVOUS TISSUE. striated and non-striated. It may be enough to note that such distinction has existence, and that it has been sup- posed to mark the voluntary (striated) from the involun- tary (non-striated) muscles, though, it seems, the demarca- tion is not accurate.15 But it may not be improper to observe, that in the organ which we name so often in con- nexion with emotion, a peculiar fibrous structure and ar- rangement are discernible. It seems, that in the heart, we find the general arrangement of the non-striated mus- cles, as regards a peculiar interlacement of the little bundles (fasciculi) of fibrils, and the absence of fixed points of attachment with the ultimate structure of the striated.0 And we ought at least to glance at that won- derful rhythmical propulsion by the heart of the vital current, which, almost entirely independent of the will, is so affected by emotional conditions. The vital and distinctive character of muscular tissue is that contractility, with reference to which, as we have seen already, we have no occasion to make ourselves parties to the controversies prevalent among the physiol- ogists. The last of our dissolving scientific views of the organic structure and the wonderful congeries of functions, mak- ing up the body and the life of body in our type ideal man, will show the nervous system. Here we have renewed occasion to remark how all the most important efforts of the scientific blend discovery with speculation. Here we are compelled to own how often we must act on mere hypothesis. However valua- ble the known truths respecting nervous matter and its functions, we are forced to own, that much remains in speculation, which we might expect to find in knowledge. But whatever the defects of scientific knowledge, as to (b) Compare Carpenter (5 ed.), 303 ; Morton Hum. Anat. 159. (c) Carpenter (5 ed.), 310. REVIEWING OBSERVATIONS. 225 nervous matter and its functions, let us not imagine them as greater than they are. We may approach the nervous system with assured conviction, that we near the mind in nearing nervous action. So assured, we may appropriately honor the approaching view of nervous matter by a rapid repetition of the views already taken, noting as we pass, particulars but slightly noticed, or not at all noticed, in our former observation. Looking through the skin, we find its structure bearing wonderful relations to the inward life, which only science, and the speculation near akin to science, could reveal to us. Accepting the results of art which has explored with mi- croscopic light and ever-careful scrutiny of chemical exam- inations, all that forms or substances the human body, we have pierced quite through and through the tissues hidden from our common vision. Starting now at the surface, we are able to discern the cutis vera, with its complex fibrous tissue, nerves, lymphatics, and blood vessels, its investing basement membrane, and the thick, tenacious epidermis which is its exterior protection. Having seen the pigment cells, which, mingled with the ordinary epidermic cells, secrete the matter that gives color to the skin, we hasten with increasing wonder to the other revelations made by observations but " skin deep." The ridges called papilla}, taking in impressions known as tactile through afferent nerves, which bear to the sensorium the vast varieties of touch—the capillary plexuses, through which the flowing red and colorless corpuscles, measurable only by the art perfected by the microscope, seek the parts eonnected with excretion, and perform yet other offices — the local branches of the " great Assimilating Gland," d which may be said to be composed by the Absorbent system—these and other wonders would seduce us into lingering exam- (d) Carpenter, 450 (5 ed.) 15 226 APPROACHES TO NEURINE. inations, if the deeper mysteries to which they only serve as invitations, did not summon us to more interior views of our humanity. The vital, visiting arterial currents and the altered and returning venous tides—the blessing, blessed influences of the circulation in each part of body —brain renourished constantly as mental exercise subjects its substance to continual waste—the muscles, even the unyielding bone, deriving nourishment from visitations of the vital fluid — oxygen employed to purify it in the tiny vessels which we find in pulmonary regions—liver serving it—digestion keeping up its substance — all the functions of organic life engaged in friendly offices in its behalf— all this cannot be hidden from the curiosity of science, all this science curiously scrutinizes and most carefully de- scribes. But, vital as the circulation of the blood, and admirable as the system most subservient to it — interest- ing as the action of that central muscle, which our fancy will not suffer us to look upon as other than the seat of all affections—neither heart, nor arteries, nor veins, nor organs of secretion and excretion, nor, in short, the won- derful machinery considered as the whole of what distinct- ively pertains to life organic, can detain us long. More wonderful machinery than this attracts us. Higher life than the organic life we have been contemplating, in- wardly invites us. Not the bones of the extremities, nor the protecting bones which form the spinal column or compose the cranium and the face, though they be won- derfully instrumental and subservient to what is most at- tractive to our scrutiny, make us impatient for their nearer observation. Nor do those yet nearer instruments of mind, distinguished as the muscles, now attract us with an irresistible attraction. Their contractile properties could not, indeed, be passed without examination. We saw their close connection with the nerves, and with the harder substances which keep the frame erect. Now, we \ GLORIES OF NEURINE. 227 note that the aid they render to the contents of the tissue, called areolar, in giving beauty to the shape, and the ser- vice which they pay the Graces in the movements of the body, as well as what they do for Art in manual accomplish- ments ; must make them objects of exceeding interest to all observers. But there is a system, very near to that in which we find the muscles, more attractive in an observa- tion such as this than any other part of our corporeal humanity. Through the " mother membrane," through the pia mater, through reflected membranes, Neurine, in its various forms, invites our most attentive scrutiny. There, in that little cord, defended by the vertebrae, we find what nerves, afferent and efferent, and the nervous masses, also show, the white and gray—the fibrous and vesicular — components of the nervous matter, which we find distributed throughout the system. And, when we have marked how white and cineritious neurine are to be distinguished in a microscopic observation, we observe how, in the little cord we are examining, the columns sacred to sensation and the columns sacred to the nerves of motion, find superior connections, leading upward or conveying down the afferent or efferent influences. Near- ing yet more closely our delighted observation, we per- ceive how this connection finds its highest point, in that mysterious " mass of convolutions," called the cerebrum, in which mind may be regarded as especially residing, and converting its peculiar forces into those which nerves conduct throughout the body. Even here, although the microscope refuses further to enlighten us, the light of science does not wholly fail. Hypotheses deserving scientific rank, bring Mind before us, not to mock us with absurd attempts to weigh, or measure, or describe it; but to recognize its presence in its sanctuary, and to point to evidence that here the images or concepts of the outward are presented to its 228 REVELATIONS OF NEURINE. contemplation. Even so! When touch originates its proper motions, when the yet imperfectly explored retina is impressed, or other points devoted to the service of sensa- tion are invaded, we do not merely mark the course of the conveyed impression to the friendly ganglia, and so to the expectant mind. Nor when a sudden anger flushes in the cheek, or threatens in the eye, or rushes into fatal action through the armed hand, is what we see confined to deli- cate machinery, on which the swifter lightning of con- verted mind-force leaps from thought to action. Nor, again, when warmer, fuller action of the heart, attests the sympathy of bodily conditions with the spiritual, in the presence of some deed of mercy or of love, do we content ourselves with tracing quickened currents, due to the emotional excitement of the brain. For, Speculation, born of Science yet producing Science, here, with steady inquisition, looks still inward, more and more inward, finding evidence in all her careful scrutiny that something in us is to live beyond the grave—that something in us reasonably looks to live forever, and with reason fixes its supreme affections on the things which speak to it of the hereafter. Thus the physiologist, perceiving how immor- tal mind gleams through its mortal body, may well become a theologian; and thus may all perceive, through all the present imperfection, promise of the perfect life beyond the grave. CHAPTER VIH. MIND-FORCE AND NERVE-FORCE. THE view which we have taken of the nervous system falls far short of the requirements of these studies. I have yet to justify what I have said of force. I have, to some extent, adopted Carpenter's peculiar theory of force. But if I understand that theory, I do not thoroughly accept it. It does not discriminate, as I discriminate, the forces acting from the things in which they have activity. Without the clear discrimination of the so-called Mind- Force from the Mind itself, I cannot look on Mind-Force and Nerve-Force as convertible. I do not undertake a definition of the thing called Force. I do, indeed, denominate it immaterial. But by the im- materiality alluded to, I only mean an unknown something operative in material substances, which is not manifest to us as matter is. By matter, here, I mean what the un- learned understand by matter—that of which the concepts visit the mind through sensual intelligencers. From matter such as this I think I can distinguish all the forces opera- tive in and through and from it. And, not venturing to make a definition of the mind, I find it likewise possible to make discrimination of the mind itself from its peculiar force or forces. 230 FORCE — WHAT IS IT? " Two ideas," we are told, " may be formed of the rela- tion between force and matter. We may either consider force to be independent of matter, separable from it, and influencing it, perhaps, in the manner in which we conceive that the Deity influences the Universe as its Creator and Ruler; or force may be considered as being inseparable from matter, as are the body and soul in the living being." * Whether we adopt the former or the latter view, we may distinguish, clearly, force from matter. Mortal body and immortal mind are quite inseparable in the living human being, as we know him here; but I am quite con- tent with such a view of force and matter as would illus- trate their difference by pointing to the union of the body and the mind, as we are conscious of its nature. We are sometimes told, however, that we ought to abandon the old conception of the material universe, as being made up of matter and forces and phenomena, in favor of the doctrine that the universe is matter in motion. I adhere to the old conception until some more cogent argument than any I have yet encountered shall compel me to abandon it. But I do not desire to quarrel about names. The crude conception which I venture to regard as worthy of attention, may be entertained without reviving ancient quarrels touching immateriality. The immortality and indestructibility of mind may not depend upon its immateriality, in any given sense of immateriality. It is enough for all our present purposes, to establish, that a certain force may be of the mind, and in it, and productive in it of phenomena, without being mind or part of mind. This being shown, it follows, that there may be another force, or another form of the same force, of nervous matter, in it, and productive in it of phenomena, without being nervous matter or part of nervous matter. (a) Schoedler's Book of Nature, 14th Eng. ed. CARPENTER'S HYPOTHESIS. 231 But it has been said, there is no necessity for such hy- potheses. A simpler and more philosophic doctrine is that force is not merely inseparable from matter, but is matter. It is enough to say, that if by the hypotheses in question, we can form a better notion of the union in which mind and body manifest their various phenomena, we ought to entertain the hypotheses. For, we have thus far seen, that they are subjected only to the exception that they are needless. But they are not needless if they tend to make more comprehensible that union of the faculties and func- tions, which we know to be a real union, not a fanciful conception. But it may not be conceded, that the only conceivable exception to the hypotheses in question is their needless- ness. It may be said that, supposing force to be distinct from mind, we do not lessen the mystery of the mental and bodily relations by supposing force to be the connect- ing link. But, I must think, it is not quite so easy to suppose the mind conversant with the matter of the body as to suppose it conversant with a force, which acts upon and in that matter. And I fancy that no reader will dissent from such a proposition, when it is remembered, that of force the natural conception is that of something finer, more ethe- real, than the material in which it is active. Let us here examine Carpenter's conception of the cor- relation of the forces known respectively as Mind-Force and Nerve-Force. 1. The essential nature of the two entities, Mind and Matter, is such that no relation of identity or analogy can be supposed to exist between them.b 2. But a very close relation may be shown to exist be- tween Mind and Force. (b) See also Brodie, Mind and Matter, Dialogue. 232 MIND-FORCE AND NERVE-FORCE. 3. Force, like Mind, can be conceived of only as in a state of activity. 4. Our consciousness of Force is as direct as is that of our own mental states. 5. In the phenomenon of voluntary movement, Mind plainly appears as one of the dynamical agencies, capable of acting on matter. 6. In the change of condition in the nervous matter of the brain effected by an act of will, we see that the imme- diate operation of the will is not upon the muscle but upon the brain. 7. The operation of the will upon the brain excites that active state of Nervous matter, designated as Nerve-Force. 8. Mental activity, on the other hand, may be excited by Nerve-force. 9. Thus we are led to perceive, that as the power of the will can develope Nervous activity, and as Nerve-force can develope Mental activity, there must be a correlation be- tween these two modes of dynamical agency. 10. The connection between Mind and Body, thus and otherwise apparent, is such, that each has, in virtue of its constitution, a determinate relation to the other during present life. 11. Facts0 and inferences fairly warrant us in holding, that the nervous matter of the cerebrum is the material substratum through which the metamorphosis of Nerve- force into Mind-force, and of Mind-force into Nerve-force, is effected.*1 12. The same facts and inferences warrant us in holding, that the cerebrum is the instrument of all the Intellectual (c) Some of these have been already brought before the reader. (d) The argument, if not the theory, apparent in these 11 propositions is al- most as distinctively and peculiarly the property of Carpenter as the theory relating to Sensory Ganglia. For a fuller statement of them, see Carp. (ed. of 1855), 540, et seq. MY VIEW OF FORCE. T233 operations, and that it also affords, in part at least, the instrumental conditions of Emotional States.6 13. The cerebrum has no communication with the ex- ternal world, otherwise than by its connexion with the Sensori-motor apparatus.1 I will not at present bring before the reader a descrip- tion of the cerebrum, or of the Sensori-motor apparatus. Let it be enough to know, that the cerebrum is the supe- rior portion of the brain—sometimes called the true brain. My object is only to examine the notion of Mind-Force and Nerve-Force, as apparent in the thirteen propositions just submitted to the reader. As I understand this system, it does not necessarily treat the mental forces as a part of mind. We may accept it, still regarding force as merely produced or set in motion by the mind. It does indeed assert, that only in the idea of succeeding states of mind are we enabled to conceive of mental essence; and it teaches, that force, like mind, can be conceived of only as in a state of activity. But while succeeding states of mind are thus regarded as its mani- festations, no severe requirement calls upon us to treat the succeeding states of mind as the essence of force, nor are we urgently required to look on force as part of that in which it is produced or which it manifests, or in which it is the operative cause of changed conditions. If I am in error here, I am not ready to accept the theory of forces which the learned physiologist advances. If, in other words, force of a certain order is not merely of a mental origin, but is a part of mind itself, I cannot look upon it as convertible into force of another order, which, according to a like hypothesis, not only appertains to body, but is a part of body. Let me be indulged in yet another statement of my view of force. (e) Carp. 535, 536, (ed. of 1855.) (f) lb. 438. 234 THE OLD VIEW OF FORCE. Regarding force as it has been long regarded—namely, as distinct from that in which it causes alteration of condi- tions and of action—it is easy to accept the Carpenterian view of Mind-force as convertible into Nerve-force. But if we are to hold with certain theorists, that the universe is matter in motion,—motion being nothing distinguisha- ble from the moving body,—and that force is not a thing, but only a state of things;« in other words, if force and matter are but one and indivisible; we may be led to look on Carpenter's peculiar theory as not entirely unobjection- able. In holding, as he does, that the production of Nerve- force in the central organs, is dependent on the develop- ment of the peculiar cells constituting the ganglionic or vesicular neurine; and, that either cells or cell-nuclei are the agents in the origination of Nerve-Force, at the peripheral extremities of the nerve-fibres; Carpenter does not confuse the notion of the production or origination of the force in question with the notion of the essence of the nervous matter wherein the production or origination manifests itself. One may, while following with absolute devotion doctrines such as those of Carpenter, follow other teachers, who inform us, that " we must assume, that in addition to matter, there exists a special cause of the phenomena which are exhibited, a cause which is termed Force." h I think, that I can mark essential dif- ferential characters of mind and body, yet conceive of mind and body as connected, and alike affected and affect- ing, through a force, distinct from both, appurtenant to both, and variant in its phenomena accordingly as it is active in the one or in the other. If a thought like this, expressed as I express it, be not absolutely void of mean- ing, Carpenter has not afforded aid and comfort to absurd (g) Holcombe on Homoeopathy, 88. (h) Schcedler's Book of Nature, 14. DISTINCTIONS. 235 materialistic doctrines in his theory of a converted mind- force playing through the nervous system. On the other hand, Dr. Carpenter has argued with great interest, that his peculiar theory does not conflict with doctrines, teaching christians of a life beyond the grave. The reader who will take the trouble—manifest- ing so his taste for real learning—to procure a copy of the work of Carpenter, will find it full of argument in favor of the fundamental thought of Christianity, consid- ered as a metaphysical philosophy. I am assured that I do not materially dissent from Carpenter, in taking such a view as that I have presented of a force, distinguisha- ble from the matter which it affects with motion or re- duces to the state, which all but the philosophers continue to describe as rest. The learned author of a recent work has ridiculed a theory which we must carefully distinguish from the the- ory of Carpenter. He tells us of a lecturer, by whom " the interposition of ' a very attenuated nervous fluid' was made the scapegoat of all the old difficulties in the action of the Mental upon the Material. ' What can be more absurd,' the learned gentlemen proceeded to say, ' than that the ethereal mind should directly act upon coarse matter ?' The absurdity, he thought, was * done for,' when he made his ' ethereal mind' act upon an * ex- ceedingly rarified nervous fluid,' and this fluid upon the body. He did not seem to suspect, that, according to his own statement and view, his ' exceedingly rarified fluid' must be either material or mental, so that at best he added to the plight by complicating nature's 'machin- ery.'"1 Assuming that the lecturer exposed to ridicule intended to maintain, that his exceedingly " rarified nervous fluid" is neither material nor mental, nor a thing distinct alike (i) Philosophy of Nature, 36, note *. 236 THE VIEW OF CARPENTER AGAIN. from mind and matter, there may be good warrant for the terms in which Judge Stallo treats his theory) But if the lecturer intended only to point out the prob- ability that the communication of mind with matter is through some very delicate material, his theory would hardly be ridiculous. Without attempting to defend such theories from ridi- cule, however, we must note that Carpenter advances no such theory. Perhaps, he dangerously enters ontological domains, when he pronounces that the entities, known to us as mind and matter, cannot be related identically — in other words, that no relation of identity can exist between them. Here he wanders darkly, as we all must wander, when we talk of matter and of mind. Here he seems about to justify the language used by Stallo : " Matter is essentially crazy; the understanding becomes literally insane in fol- lowing it up to its ultimatum." k But he does not lose his head, although he ventures into speculations which endan- ger wisest heads. The " matter " which he distinguishes from mind and force alike, is manifestly matter, manifest to human senses as extended. Force, for all he says, may be an indescribable something, fit to intermediate between material life, of which it may itself be the inscrutable, in- visible, yet evidently present principle, and life the imma- terial, to which it may be near enough in characters for such a purpose. Force, thus viewed, is, if I may be a little paradoxical—or Irish—entirely viewless, and so wholly indescribable, that we will show our wisdom by avoiding all endeavors to describe it, yet so evidently part of being that we may, with great propriety, declare our faith in its existence. But whether Force be such a thing as I have here sup- G) Op. cit. loc. cit. (k) lb. 40. HOLLAND ON NERVOUS POWER. 237 posed, or something more describable, the learned physiol- ogist has certainly advanced no theory of nervous fluids, rarified exceedingly, in order to connect the body with the mind. On the whole, it is but just, therefore, to Dr. Carpenter, to own that nothing of materialistic tendency appears in his peculiar theory. And it is likewise only simple justice to acknowledge, in bringing this particular discussion to a close, that his hypothesis concerning forces of the Mind and Forces of the Body is as reasonable as hypothesis of its description well can be. Perhaps, before proceeding further, we may well exam- ine other theories relating to the " force" or " power" known as nervous. Sir Henry Holland has evidently devoted great atten- tion to the questions, which have been discussed with ref- erence to this power or force. With Dr. Carpenter, Mr. Solly, Sir B. Brodie and others, he regards it as generated in the cineritious neurine, and as conducted by the white or fibrous neurine.1 What it is, how nearly it may come to absolute identity with electricity, he will not undertake to decide. But in favor of the hypothesis which supposes the ex- istence of a single agent of nervous power, the learned writer alluded to has argued with great clearness, and great strength. And he has well examined the poperties or conditions which may be assigned to the nervous power. Quantity he finds to be, among these, the most determinate. A constant supply of nervous power from the organs generating it to the conducting nerves, is needed to maintain the efficiency of the latter in minister- (1) Mr. Solly is quoted by Dr. Morton (Hum. Anat. 485), as contending, " that the cineritious portion of the nervous system stands in the same relation to the rest of the system as the secreting portion of a gland does to the rest of that organ, though one portion would be useless without the other." " The Human Brain," 37. 238 QUANTITY, INTENSITY, AND QUALITY. ing to the peculiar actions, single or sympathetic, of ani- mal life. Nor is this relation of demand and supply appar- ent only in the given instance. In the seemingly quite independent but in truth subordinate system of the nerves of organic life, the quantity of nervous power, though only observable in obscure relations, is apparently in- volved. And so the language of physicians, which dis- tinguishes excess and deficiency, exhaustion and repair, in nervous power, seems but reasonable to the learned writer. It is interesting to all students to observe how mental action of a given kind may have for consequence deficiency of nervous power. Thus, protracted, intent thought, or deep emotion, may exhaust the power in ques- tion.01 Not less interesting to forensic students is the learning which relates to the excess of nervous power. We shall see hereafter that in mania we have a morbid exaltation of the faculties and functions. But there are conditions not distinctly morbid in which this excess is obvious. " Every one," says Sir Henry Holland, " must recollect moments of unusual energy in the active powers both of body and mind, but still under control of the will. These natural effects pass, by a series of continuous gra- dations, into the more extreme cases, which constitute disease."11 I will not dwell on Sir Henry Holland's views of what he regards as the very obscure notions of intensity, con- sidered as distinct from quantity, and the like obscure notion of quality, as applied to the nervous power. Here it may be proper to observe, that nothing is less satisfactory in its results, than speculation either as to force or as to motion. I have kept as well away from all such speculation in the present work, as I have found my- self enabled to keep away from it. This statement may provoke a smile; but not in readers well informed with (m) Ment. Phye. 307. (n) lb. 308. THEORIES OF NERVOUS POWER. 239 reference to the philosophy of human nature. I do not refer alone to such philosophy as bears the name of meta- physical. Nor do I here refer alone to Anthropology, as- suming to possess a clearer positiveness than belongs to metaphysics. Nor do I confine myself to such Psychology as we encounter in a work like that of Carpenter. Quite independently of psychological discriminations, Physiol- ogy at large, and the Pathology connected with it and with Therapeutics, are converfant with innumerable spec- ulations, very few of which I have considered as a neces- sary part of our examinations. And we ought to bear in mind, in this connexion, what I have already noticed as to metaphysical distinctions made in legal science, and by lawyers who would be alarmed at simple mention of a purposed metaphysical examination. It is not to be for- gotten, that we are compelled to act with reference to the most important interests, upon the mere belief of many things which have their root and their development in simple metaphysics, or in theories of only hypothetical verity. We often wander darkling, where we boast a clear and unmistakable acquaintance with our path- way. Vet I feel the difficulty of encountering speculative the- ories of force. I feel it the more keenly in my sense of little learning such as I discern in many of the theories which I cannot accept. But I have thought it proper to encounter all the criticism which may be provoked by simple statement of my simple notions. The exposure of whatever fallacy may be detected in them may do service to the cause of science. My unvarnished statement of my unpretending notions may, moreover, serve as indication of the vulgar notions on this subject. And the ascertainment of these vulgar notions is of interest to science. Science ought to interest itself not merely to present its learning to unlearned 240 VALUE OF SUCH THEORIES. minds, but to dispel the mists of ignorance which might prevent the general acceptance of correct ideas. I believe, whatever may be fairly charged against the learned, they cannot be fairly charged with any disposition to withhold their learning from the vulgar mind. And I am willing to expose to proper scrutiny and fair exposure my un- learned notions as to force. I am not certain, then, that I have full capacity to com- prehend the learning which relates to force. Perhaps, however, few of those who have advanced, with seeming philosophic accuracy, quite imposing theories of force, have an unquestionable understanding of their theories. Philosophers sometimes appear to have experienced the short reach of the line of learning, and the dazzle of the mind's dim eyes,0 while painfully elaborating their pecul- iar notions. Other theorists present their theories in forms not unat- tractive to unlearned minds. And I have tried to com- prehend such theories. I may have failed. But I have done my best to deal with theories respecting force, with some regard to the proper estimation of them. On the whole, whatever may remain for ascertainment, it seems plain enough, that theories of force like those we have encountered in the Physiology of Carpenter and in the Mental Physiology of Holland, well deserve examina- tion. (o) Ante p. 203. CHAPTER IX. NEARER VIEW OF THE NERVES. E must now proceed to nearer views of nervous mat- ter. In connexion with them, I purpose to explain and to defend my view of what we call Sensation and Perception. I have made it plain, from the beginning: of these stud- ies, that I do not follow Reid and his disciples as to what they call the immediateness of our perceptions. I prefer hypotheses which Sir William Hamilton has lately made it perilous to treat with honor. I consider all perception as in fact amounting to conception. I deny that there is any evidence that we perceive immediately the objects of perception, as defined by Reid or by Sir William Hamil- ton. And I propose to show, that I must so deny and so consider until better reasons shall be urged in favor of im- mediate perception, than philosophers have yet assigned in that behalf. I purpose to establish, that the theory I have preferred must stand until the revelations of the mi- croscope shall be subordinated to the seeming testimony of the so-called consciousness. Philosophers, other than physiologists, observing facts which seem to indicate the inwardness of mind with refer- ence to body, and unable to account for the optical ap- paratus of the eye, and for other things relating to the 16 W 242 QUESTION TO BE TRIED. sensual supplies, without supposing that the mind em- braces only images of what exists externally to the senso- rium, have so supposed and so contended. Reid, however, followed by thinkers far more learned if not far abler, has insisted that this hypothesis is not to be received. I believe, that the hypothesis in question is as nearly necessary as hypothesis can be without ceasing to be hy- pothesis. But I do not regard myself as quite at liberty to found an argument on the simple statement, that I accept the doctrine of one set of philosophers in preference to the teaching of another set of philosophers. My set is, in- deed, the larger; but it may not be the apparently strong- er. For some of those who belong to the smaller set, have boasted that their learning is in harmony with the natural, unforced opinions of all who have not embraced a false philosophy. It is, perhaps, familiar to the reader, that Dr. Reid, admitting that most philosophers had de- cided against his theory, assumed, in favor of that theory, that it commanded the assent of all the vulgar, with whom he proudly chose to stand on such a question. Be- ing of the vulgar, I must here record my vote against this philosophical assumption. I propose to try the question, whether we should follow Reid and his disciples, or that other set of thinkers, whom the learned Hamilton distinguishes as Hypothetic Realists, Cosmothetic Idealists, etc. I propose to try it here, where we are studying the learning which relates to man, in presence, and with full remembrance, of the practical. It will be found desirable to " enter at the eye," in view- ing man for such a purpose as we have in view at present. Visual perception, first of all, invites attention. And it will be found most richly to reward attentive study. In its organs, we shall find an object of exceeding beauty and of such a complex structure as the curious delight to VALUE OF THE PURPOSED VIEW OF VISION. 243 analyse and reconstruct. Nor is this all my reason for preferring thus to enter at the eye. The movements of the eye, though often of the kind distinguished as reflex or automatic, are so often nicely governed by the move- ments of the will, that when we study visual perception, we are students also of the nervous and the muscular, as agents of the will. Before proceeding to the view of visual perception here intended, it may be of interest to note the value of the view intended to forensic students. And it will not be of interest to them alone to indicate that value. For, apart from the consideration that the interest of a forensic physiology is, after all, a common interest, there is a feature in forensic tests of scientific theories, which shows their special interest to all investigators. In the trial of a cause, the objects are too real to be reached through idle speculation. Real interests, ruin or prosperity, a life of honor or a death of infamy, may be dependent on the right pursuit of truth in testimony. When, therefore, I show my purpose to subject to the forensic tests what- ever I shall offer, touching visual perception, I but show my purpose to inquire into the absolute reality or relative certainty of what I may produce for estimation. Now, intending to make a forensic estimation of the theories or doctrines which we are to notice, I desire to show that the forensic student has a special interest in all the real revelations and all the sober speculations touching visual perception. It is observed by a favorite writer on the law of Evi- dence,* that "the highest degree of certainty of which the mind is capable, with respect to the existence of a particular fact, consists in the knowledge of the fact de- rived from actual perception of the fact by the senses; and even this degree of evidence is obviously capable of being (a) 1 Starkie's Evidence, 37, note (6). 244 VARIETIES OF PERCEPTIVE CONDITIONS. strengthened by particular circumstances." And, having found the second degree of evidence in that information derived from others, he says: " The truth of the fact in question depends upon the powers of perception possessed by another; the opportunity afforded him of applying them; his diligence in making that application; the strength of his recollection, and his inclination to speak or to write the truth." It is, perhaps, a common error in the trial of causes to overlook certain indisputable truths in the science of mind and body, to which I desire, through the foregoing cita- tion, to direct attention. Allowing that the witness exam- ined is normally constituted and up to the average of capacity; conceding that his opportunity to apply his per- ceptive powers has been good; admitting that he has diligently applied those powers in the particular instance; and not denying that his purpose as well as his power of reporting what is registered in his memory is unexception- able ; we may still find that he has strangely varied from the apparent and certain truth of the facts which he observed. In looking into books for explanation of these facts, w e find a learning touching what it calls hallucinations and illusions, in which the forensic student as well as any other student may feel deeply interested. It is not absolutely accurate, perhaps, to say that the forensic student ought to feel the deepest interest in this most interesting learning; but it is quite certain that he cannot safely be indifferent to it. It is of interest to the practical lawyer to note, that beside the fixed varieties in the power of perception which are discernible in the well known varieties of bodily and mental structure and organization, there are varieties of mental and bodily condition, even in the normally consti- tuted individual, by which his power of perception is HALLUCINATIONS AND ILLUSIONS. 245 seriously affected. This will be apparent in another place; I only mention it at present, to reveal the practical interest of the intended view of visual perception. That the sane may be hallucinated or illuded, all have learned from personal experience and observations; but, it may be, all have not become acquainted with the ascertained or sup- posed causes of hallucinations and illusions. I propose, while examining visual perception, to keep an eye to legal interests in this particular. It will be found that the phenomena to which we have alluded, as relating to disturbed or false perception, are of interest to all connected with the practice of the law. It is not merely in the practice under the so-called criminal law, that the knowledge of the phenomena al- luded to is interesting. In purely " Civil" cases, the facts sometimes appear in depositions, that is to say, without the presence in court of the witnesses examined—and the barrister who tries the case is often thus deprived of much that he finds available when witnesses are present. But when witnesses can be examined thoroughly, in presence of the jury, knowledge of the facts relating to perception is of great importance, even in the trial of " commercial " cases. Even as to such controversies, careful scrutiny of inconsistencies in testimony produced by false perceptions may be necessary. For the question may arise upon a claim of damages in a collision case, on water or on rail- way or the like, and terror may have " supervened," as the doctors say, in thooe who testify. I shall proceed, therefore, with the intended trial, quite assured that the forensic student cannot be indifferent to its result. Nor can I doubt that even such practitioners of the law as most affect contempt for metaphysics, may be won to listen patiently as we proceed with witnesses to prove what we advance, especially when visual perception is in question. For, knowledge touching visual percep- 246 INTEREST OF THESE STUDIES. tion cannot be without some interest to experts, constantly endeavoring to estimate the testimony of witnesses. Finding in the eye " an optical instrument of great per- fection,"1* the forensic expert ought to add to legal knowl- edge some acquaintance, such at least as school-boys have, with optics. Whether light be an emanating fluid or not, he may indeed decline to make the inquiry in the present state of science. But he cannot be entirely ignorant of optics, if he wishes to be up to the requirements of his art. His art is constantly engaged in estimating testimony. Whether testimony is to be regarded as true evidence, as amounting to proof, he must assist the triers to pronounce. And since the witnesses are testifying chiefly to what visual or auditory consciousness has registered in memory, forensic art should not be ignorant of what belongs to visual supplies or auditory information. That a witness may be honestly mistaken as to what he saw, or over- positive in statement, just because he is entirely ignorant of optics, or because he has not happened to remember what he knew of optics; that a witness, on the other hand, may forge a narrative, entirely false, without regard- ing optics, leaving optics to expose his falsehood; all this is conceivable, not as remotely interesting to forensic art, but as of near concern to the forensic expert. And if this be not enough to make the lawyer study optics, or brush up the studies of his school-boy days, perhaps, a sentiment of gratitude may lead him to such study. Coke and Black- stone, and "most reverend" Fitzherbert, would be names of little light to him, but for the operation of cause and effect in optics. All the learning of executive devises, all the dear delights of the conveyancer and of the special pleader, would have been to him as though they never were, but for the like succession of phenomena in optics. And now we come once more to neurine, and the nerv- (b) Carpenter, 66 VARIETIES OF NEURINE. 247 ous system. Here, there must be talk once more, of cells. According to Dr. Carpenter, there can be no reasonable doubt of the dependence of the production of Nerve-force in the central organs, upon the development of the pecul- iar cells which constitute their ganglionic or vesicular substance. We shall presently scrutinize this substance with some interest. Meantime, it may be proper to add this additional remark of Carpenter: namely, " that the progress of physiological inquiry seems to justify the belief .....that cells or cell-nuclei are usually the agents in the origination of nerve-force at the peripheral extremities of the nerve-fibres. " This nerve-force," continues Car- penter,0 " may be regarded as the very highest manifesta- tion of Vital Power, in virtue alike of its intimate relation with Mental agency, which it serves to excite, and by which it is in turn excited, of its power of exciting or checking Muscular movements, and of the control it exerts over the Vital operations of cells in general, whether these take the form of multiplication or chemico-vital trans- formation, or present themselves under any other aspect." The neurine just distinguished as vesicular constitutes the gray or cineritious portion of the brain and spinal cord. Fibrous, medullary, or tubular neurine, embraces the pearly white or medullaryd portion of the brain and spinal cord, and the whole of the peripheral nervous sys- tem, excepting only the sympathetic nerve."e It may be proper before proceeding to examine nervous trunks and ganglia and their connexions, to remind the reader, that the brain is often used as a collective term, signifying those parts of the nervous system, (exclusive of the nerves themselves,) which are contained within the cranium. These are the cerebrum, or brain proper, the cerebellum, or little brain, and the medulla oblongata. This (c) Physiology (5 ed.), 132. (e) Morton, 485-487. (d) Medulla—marrow. 248 THE TRUNK AND THE GANGLION. last is a pyramidal prolongation of the spinal cord. By " the brain," however, we shall generally signify the cere- brum. It may also be useful, before proceeding further, to point out, without minuteness, the positions of the spinal cord and its superior connections. The spinal cord is limited, and its place supplied, below, by the cauda equina, a little bundle (fasciculus) of large nerves, branching from the cord. The "horse tail" begins towards the upper part of the region of the loins. The cord ascends to the line arbitrarily fixed for the beginning of the medulla oblongata.* The medulla oblongata lies within the cranium, upon the basilary portion of the bone, at the posterior and inferior part of the cranium. The little brain, or cerebellum, is a portion of the medullary mass, contained within the cavity of the cranium. No particular description of its boundaries, or those of the cerebrum, is necessary at this time. The nervous trunk is a fasciculus of fibrils, in which we have the fibrous (otherwise called medullary) neurine. In the swelling or enlargement in the course of a nerve, formed by an accumulation of what are called ganglion globules, we discover neurine of the kind distinguished as vesicular. The fibrous neurine, in its most complete form, is dis- tinctly tubular, the diameter of the tubes varying from the a^th of an inch to half as much. These tubes are larger in the nerves than in the brain, and they diminish in the latter as they approach the vesicular neurine. We may well indulge ourselves with curious examina- tions of the delicate component parts of that machinery in which the body executes the purposes of mind, or fills the mind with images and other store of mental wealth. The fibrous neurine is especially inviting to such curious (f) Medulla—marrow. VESICULAR NEURINE. 249 examinations. Morton describes every fibre as enveloped in a very delicate, transparent, elastic membrane, similar to the sarcolemma of the fibres of voluntary muscles, and, like it, serving more completely to isolate the contained substance. The investing membrane—neurilemma— re- ceives no blood vessels and does not intermouth (anastomose) with other sheaths. It is therefore supposed to be contin- uous from the origin to the termination of the nervous trunk. Its contained neurine is readily distinguished into an external portion, lining the cylinder, and an inner por- tion constituting its central mass. The external portion, being the white substance of Schwann, differs in chemical composition from the contained nervous matter. It is supposed to serve, like its investing membrane, for the more complete isolation of the internal cylinder, s The latter or central substance is transparent; it is called the axis cylinder by Rosenthal, and is regarded by Solly and others as the active portion of the fibrous neurine.h The ganglia of nerves, as we have seen already, intro- duce us to a nearer view of vesicular neurine. This, when examined by the microscope, is observed to consist almost entirely of cells, having a nucleus and a nucleolus, in vari- ous stages of development. The envelope is finely granu- lated with nucleated particles, and of an extremely delicate structure. The general form of these cells is spheroidal, whence they are sometimes called ganglion globules; but in some instances they assume other shapes, being more or less flattened, and presenting remarkable tail-like pro- longations. " These last," says Dr. Morton, " are some- times subdivided into filaments, which are probably a medium of connection with other cells. The interior con- struction of the cells is of a finely granular nature, in the midst of which are pigment granules collected around the nucleus and giving it a reddish or yellowish brown color."1 (g) Morton here refers to Carpenter. (i) Morton, 484. fh) Morton, 485, 486. 250 OTHER FORMS OF NEURINE. The cineritious substance is, it appears, extremely full of vessels, the capillaries being arranged in an intricate plexiform manner, and so numerous that Ruysch supposed the cineritious substance of the spinal marrow to be en- tirely composed of blood vessels.j The ganglia, in which we find the accumulated glob- ules of this cineritious substance, also contain, according to Morton, a portion of gelatinous neurine. This is more abundant, however, in the sympathetic than in the cerebro- spinal ganglia. It may be proper here to note its char- acters. Morton, following Henle, described this modification of nervous structure as homogeneous in appearance, resem- bling the vesicular neurine in containing numerous cell- nuclei of a round or oval shape, their long diameter being in the axis of the nerve. This form of neurine Morton represents as destitute of the white substance of Schwann. It would seem, he adds, that the gray color of some nerves is owing to the presence of a large proportion of gelatinous neuriue. The mode of connection between the gelatinous fibres and the elements of the nervous centres seems to be as yet unknown. They are chiefly found, as we have seen already, in the sym- pathetic nerves, and are regarded as their distinctive ele- ment by Dr. Carpenter, who calls them organic nervous fibres. Our purposes require, that we should not content our- selves with such a view of nervous centres and connections as we have already taken. Nearer yet and nearer must we come to trunks and ganglia, and all the wonderful varieties of nervous matter. We must not forget, that we have yet to vindicate the doctrine of Perception, which we have preferred. Approaching the examination of the nervous system once more, we must encounter one of those quite unex- (j) Morton' 484. SIR CHARLES BELL. 251 ceptionable theories, in which the dignity, the calmness, of a true philosophy will be apparent. Very interesting is the history of theory and theorist alike, at which we ought at least to glance, when we attempt to state the theory of Bell, concerning the afferent and efferent nervous fibres. This most beautiful as well as interesting theory, is elaborated in the Physiology of Carpenter, recognized and stated in the work of Morton, and accepted generally by the (medical) scientific. Yet, I think, few lawyers are familiar with it. Science is indebted for this theory to the same Sir Charles Bell, who has so beautifully illustrated the perfection of the human hand, not merely by a scientific description of the hand, but by artistic use of that unequaled instru- ment. Familiar with Anatomy, "the admirable use of his hands, exhibited both in his dissections and his draw- ings," became conspicuous at a comparatively early age. We learn, that his operations as a surgeon were distin- guished by their dexterity and simplicity. Being, at Edin- burgh, one of the surgeons of the Royal Infirmary, he eagerly availed himself of all the means thus afforded to him for improvement in pathology. In view of his desire for such improvement, it appears, that he invented a method of representing morbid parts in models, some of which are still preserved in the museum of the Royal Col- lege of Surgeons of Edinburgh. After difficulties such as genius often owes to its adver- sary dullness, Bell removed to London, where he rapidly rose to distinction, chiefly through a course of lectures on anatomy and surgery. Before leaving his native place, however, he had written a work on the Anatomy of Ex- pression. This was published soon after his arrival in London. It immediately attracted attention. There is said to be reason for believing, that the inquiries into 252 THE THEORY OF BELL. nervous function which were made by Bell in connexion with the anatomy of expression, led him " to prosecute those investigations, which terminated in the most re- markable anatomical discovery of our time. In the same manner as it had been taught before the discoveries of Harvey, that there was a flux and reflux of the blood in the arteries and veins, so it was taught, before the discov- eries of Bell, that the same nerves transmitted the man- date of the will from the sensorium to the organs of vol- untary motion, and likewise carried to the sensorium intelligence of the conditions of their extremities or sensa- tion ; and that, in some mysterious manner, these two impulses might be simultaneously communicated along the same cord in opposite directions without impairing the efficiency of either. This doctrine, which now appears to be startling, continued to be taught, or was left to be inferred, by every anatomical teacher in Europe for at least a year after Sir Charles Bell had announced—in let- ters still extant, and bearing the London and Edinburgh post-marks of the 5th and 8th December, 1807—his ideas on the nervous system. To him we owe the discovery that no one nerve serves the double purpose of minister- ing both to motion and sensation; that the spinal nerves and the fifth nerve of the brain, which had been regarded each as one nerve, consisted each of two distinct nerves connected with different portions of the brain, inclosed in one sheath for the convenience of distribution, but per- forming different functions in the animal economy, corres- ponding with the different portions of the brain, to which they could be traced—the one conveying the mandates of the will from the sensorium, the other conveying to the sensorium intelligence of the condition of distant parts, or sensation; that, as the arteries carry the blood from the heart, and the veins carry it to the heart, so one set of nerves carries the impulses of volition from the brain, AFFERENT AND EFFERENT NERVES. 253 and another carries the impulses of sensation to the brain; that the brain is divided, together with the spinal marrow which is prolonged from it, into separate parts, ministering respectively to the distinct functions of motion and sensa- tion ; and that the origin of the nerves, from one or other of these sources, seems to endow them with the particular property of the division whence they spring." k In introducing this most interesting theory, I do not much expect the " practical" to censure it. I must ac- knowledge, indeed, that Bell was in some degree inclined to what the practical regard as almost sinful. Something like enthusiasm glances through his conduct. When de- prived of the advantages before referred to in the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh, he did not, indeed, attempt to hang or to drown himself. But he did offer to pay £100 a year, and to transfer for the use of the students the mu- seum he had collected, on condition that he should be " allowed to stand by the bodies when dissected in the theatre of the infirmary, and to make notes and drawings of the diseased appearances." And he did voluntarily proceed to the scene of action during the war in the Pe- ninsula, in order to attend the wounded on the field of battle! Worst of all, if Mr. Buckle is a true philosopher of progress, Bell displayed a disposition to connect theology and science. He was so reactionary as to write on the evidences of divine design to be found in the anatomy of the human body! But, for all that, the practical will not be much averse to such a theory as Bell advanced, and men like Carpen- ter, and Brodie, and Morton carefully elaborate and learnedly support by argument. In Carpenter's elaboration of this theory, we have the distinction plainly marked between the afferent (sensory) (k) Encyc. Brit. tit. Bell, Sir Charles, K. H. 254 MUELLER AND CARPENTER'S MODIFICATIONS. and the efferent (motor) fibres of the nerves. And we are told, that there is reason to believe that every fibre runs a distinct course between the central organ, in which it loses itself at one extremity, and the organ of sense, muscle, or other tissue, in which it terminates at the other; in the terminal ramifications of the nerves, however, a sub-divis- ion of the fibres is frequently observed. " Each nervous trunk is made up of several fasciculi of these fibres; and each fasciculus is composed of a large number of the ul- timate fibres themselves. Although the fasciculi occasion- ally intermix and exchange fibres with one another (as occurs in a plexus), the fibres themselves never inosculate. Each fibre would seem, therefore, to have its appropriate office, which it cannot share with any other."1 Of the statements made by Carpenter, as adopting the doctrines of Prof. Mueller with some modifications, I will only give the skeleton—referring all to the book itself for the entire argument. I. When the whole trunk of a sensory nerve is irritated, a sensation is produced, which is referred by the mind to the parts to which its branches are ultimately distributed; and if only part of the trunk be irritated, the sensation will be referred to those parts only, which are supplied by the fibrils it contains. H. The sensation produced by the irritation of a branch of the nerve, is confined to the parts to which that branch is distributed, and does not affect the branches which come off from the nerve higher up. HI. The motor influ- ence is propagated only in a centrifugal direction, never in a retrograde course. It may originate in a spontane- ous change in the central organs, or it may be excited by an impression conveyed to them through afferent nerves; but in both cases its law is the same. IV. When the whole trunk of a motor nerve is irritated, all the muscles which it supplies are caused to contract. (1) Carpenter (ed. of 1855). 442. CHAPTER X. THE EYE AND ITS CONNEXIONS. AND now, I trust, we are prepared to near the organ of vision. We are not at present to examine all its parts and char- acters. Its great perfection as an optical instrument will only come before us after we shall have looked upon it merely as the point to which the visual sensation draws our notice when we see. None need to be informed, that the eye-ball is a hollow sphere, of which the solid portion is made up by three concentric envelopes, and that this hollow sphere is filled with what have been named humors. That these humors are fluid or semi-fluid bodies — that the concentric envel- opes are known as the coats of the eye—all readers are in- formed. That, somewhere in the eye, a nerve, known as the optic, is expanded into the retina, and conveys, or is supposed to convey, some likeness or suggestion of the images which light has painted on that yet mysterious retina to the special seat of mind; this also is familiar to all readers. In order to enable readers to understand what is to be said of the retina, it is quite convenient to make a de- scription of the contents of the eye-ball. But the reader is to bear in mind, that, while, as we proceed, the evidence 256 COATS OF THE EYE. will more or less unfold itself, that the eye has a capacity which is not ill-compared with that apparent in the pho- tographic process, I do not now describe the eye in order to produce such evidence. Among the envelopes distinguished as the coats of the eye, the most exterior is the sclerotic. Within we have the choroid coat with the iris as its front. And, most in- teriorly, we have that wonderful retina. The white, opaque, glossy, blue-tinted, strong tunic, known as the sclerotic, is of fibrous tissue, the layers crossing each other at right angles. This unyielding, dense sclerotic, though considered as including the transparent cornea, may be described as letting the cornea into a cir- cular perforation in front, above which the arched projec- tion of the cornea resembles a watch-glass. The cornea reveals the iris and the pupil, which, as we have seen, belong to the choroid. A firm, elastic membrane, the cornea is set firmly in the beveled edge of the sclerotica, of which it may be said to form the sixth part of the contained sphere, although, as we have seen, it is more convex than the sclerotica. Neither the sclerotica proper nor the "cornea proper" show blood—and though perfo- rated by the optic nerve, the sclerotica is, strictly speak- ing, wholly destitute of nerves. The cornea, though it seems " pellucid as glass," and in effect is so, is composed of five lamina?, distinguished as the conjunctival epithelium, the anterior elastic lamina, the cornea proper, the posterior elastic lamina, and the posterior epithelium. The " cornea proper " consists, it is said, of more than sixty lamellae.* Two sets of blood " vessels, superficial and deep-seated, surround its margin: the former are extended a short distance upon the con- junctiva, but they terminate in veins at from J to J a line from the point of ingress. The deeper vessels appear at (a) Draper, Phys, 384; Morton, Anat. 600. THE CHOROID. 257 first to enter the cornea proper; but they terminate in veins at the point of junction, between the cornea and sclerotica."b At the "line of junction, the fibres, which in the sclerotica, have been densely interlaced in various directions, and mingled with elastic fibrous tissue, flatten out into a membranous form, so as to follow, in the main, the curvature of the surface of the cornea." ° The iris, perforated by the pupil, next attracts us, and its observation shows it as a part of the choroid. United round the edge of the cornea, with the coat distinguished as sclerotic, the membrane called choroides is not unlike the coat containing it, in tissue, but is chiefly made up of blood vessels and certain cells, which we must not omit to notice with attention. Pigment cells, or particles contain- ing the coloring matter of the choroid coat, appear, of a pentagonal or hexagonal shape, in the third layer of the choroid (called the choroidal epithelium), and also, in va- riable shapes, in the substance of the choroid. The cho- roid, it is to be observed, is " usually, though artificially," described as composed of three coats. Of these, the first or external tunic, is a curvilinear arrangement of veins, " converging, before they leave the choroid, into four or five trunks, called vasa vorticosa, which empty into the posterior ciliary veins." " The second layer is the tunica Buyschiana, a plexus of arterial capillaries disposed in a close net-work, more elaborate behind than in front, and all derived from the posterior ciliary arteries."4 The third layer we have already distinguished. It is some- times called the membrana pigmenti, and is the " black pigment" of Draper, in which he supposes images to form, and which darkens the interior of the eye. That learned physiologist describes the choroid, at large, as " a sheet of blood capillaries arranged in two layers, an arterial and a (b) Morton, 601. (d) lb. 602. (c) lb. 600. 17 258 THE IRIS. venous, in such a way as to give the utmost freedom of access for the arterial blood to the retina within."e The iris, commonly regarded as a processf of the cho- roid coat, floats freely in one of the humors, glanced at at the outset,g called the aqueous humor. It is, indeed, " attached by its periphery to the ciliary ligament," (not yet examined here,) "and by the latter to the choroid coat, which it is by some anatomists regarded as a con- tinuous, though modified structure. Where it joins the ciliary ligament, it also becomes continuous, through its anterior surface, with the posterior elastic lamina of the cornea."h It is, as we have seen, perforated, for the ad- mission of light to the retina, by the pupil, an opening of which the size is varied by the dilation and contraction of the iris. The " color of the eye," as commonly described, depends upon the pigment of the anterior surface of the iris. Its posterior surface is also covered by pigment. The iris has in front, the cornea, and, behind, the lens, of which we shall see more hereafter. The tissue of the iris, though arising from the choroid, is generally considered as a modification of muscular tis- sue — that distinguished as unstriped.1 It is by the power of the radiating fibres converging from the periphery to the centre, that the dilation of the pupil is accomplished; whilst contraction is produced by another and circular set surrounding the pupil. These two sets of fibres are dis- tinguished as the lesser and greater circled The ciliary ligament, a bluish white ring more than a line in width, and composed mainly of a dense cellular tissue, connects the choroid and sclerotica. It adheres more closely to the former than to the latter. Neither this ligament, nor the ciliary body, as described by the anatomists, need more than mention here. A "ciliary (e) Drap. Phys. 384. (h) Morton, 604. (f) Prolonged part. (i) Ante, p. 223. (g) Ante, p. 253. (j) Morton, 604. ARTERIES. 259 muscle," as to which I find no certainty in any book I have examined, is described by Dunglison and Draper— by the former, as part of the muscle, called^orbicularis pal- pebrarum in the vicinity of the ciliary margin — or as the grayish, semi-transparent structure behind the ciliary liga- ment, and covering the outside of the ciliary body. The latter, according to Dunglison, is " a ring of the choroid surrounding the chrystalline in the manner of a crown " — "resembling the disk of a radiated flower," and "formed by the union of the ciliary processes." Dunglison further describes the ciliary body as placed behind the iris and the ciliary circle.k Draper describes the ciliary muscle as of the unstriped kind; and tells us that its action is to move the lens. And Dunglison informs us, that " by its con- traction the ciliary processes, and with them the lens, must be drawn towards the cornea." I am not aware that any of our purposes require a close description of the arteries which branch to the choroid from the ophthalmic artery, or of the veins which enter into the beautiful arrangement of blood vessels in the choroides and iris. The ophthalmic artery, however, may be mentioned as entering the optic opening (foramen) beneath the optic nerve, and running a spiral course with- in the orbit, which it leaves at what is called the inner canthusl of the eye. This artery gives off the lachrymal artery, the central artery of the retina, the supra orbitar artery, and the ciliary arteries. The latter are distinguish- ed as the short ciliary (ten or twelve in number), the long ciliary (two in number), and the anterior ciliary, (variable in number.) It is the ciliary which compose the beautiful and complicated vascular network within the ball of the eye. I reserve the description of the nerves connected with the choroid. (k) Dung. Med. Die. tit. Ciliary Body and Ciliary Muscle. (1) Corner angle. 260 THE RETINA. Coming now to the retina, we begin to feel that we are nearing wonders. Beginning at the point of entrance of the optic nerve, of which it is described as an expansion, it is interposed between the vitreous humor and the choroid coat. It terminates behind the ciliary body in an irregu- lar border. It arises from the tubules of the optic nerve, which have cast off their covering investitures on their passage through the sclerotic. It is thicker behind than before. Its color is grayish white with a tingy red. Mor- ton tells us that it is "of a pulpy consistence and nearly transparent;" Draper, that it "is perfectly transparent during life, though it soon becomes semi-transparent.""1 The orange-colored spot, about the twentieth or twenty- fourth of an inch in diameter, called the yellow spot of Soemmering, dots the retina, in the optical axis of the eye. Its uses are unknown.11 In the order of dissection, the retina shows, 1. The membrana or tunica Jacobi; 2. The nervous membrane, lamina nervosa; 3. The vascular membrane, lamina vascu- losa. The first of these laminae is described as forming the connecting link between the choroidal epithelium and the retina, and as attached to the exterior of the retina in flocculent portions. It is an extremely delicate structure.0 In the nervous membrane, we find a thin, semi-trans- parent bluish white layer—a most intimate intertexture of filaments forming a perfect membrane, of which the texture is analogous to the vesicular neurine of the brain. The remaining membrane is regarded as a congeries of minute blood vessels, connected, so as to form a perfect membrane, by cellular tissue. Such is the substance of the Morton view of the retina. In the physiology of Draper are distinguished four "stra- ta," namely—1. The membrane of Jacob, which Draper (m) Morton, 606; Draper, 385. (n) In this account of the retina, I have followed Morton and Draper. (o) Morton, 606, 607. 4 OPTIC NERVES. 261 calls a layer of rods and cones; 2. The granular layer, a congeries of granules; 3. The vesicular layer; 4. The fibres of the optic nerve. But he prefers, to any such view of the retina, what he calls the radiated fibre system. This system, introduced by Mueller, examines the retina in its radial section. From this it appears that the layers just enumerated are all so connected, that, passing in a radial direction, as respects the globe of the eye, all the different enumerated elements are successively combined. " Thus, from each of the proper fibres of the optic nerve, a thread-like body passes radially through the thickness of the retina, including in its outward passage a vesicle, and again, beyond that, a granule, and still further, a cone, and terminating in a rod; so that from the extremi- ty of the rod, there is a continuous communication through the thickness of the retina to the fibres of the optic nerve; the rods are therefore to be regarded as the termination of the optic fibres. In the opinion of Mueller and Kolliker, the rods and cones composing Jacob's membrane are the true percipients of light, communicating their condition to the fibres of the optic nerve by means of the connection which they thus maintain with it; or, perhaps, the rods and cones are conductors of the luminous impressions to the nerve-cells of the retina, which constitute a ganglion capable of perceiving light, and the fibres of the optic nerve merely communicate those impressions to the sen- sorium." p Leaving for examination in another connexion what we have distinguished as the humors of the eye, I purpose here to follow each optic nerve in its inward course, as it departs from the expansion known as the retina. Each optic nerve, originating where we find that expansion, and being but the coalition of the expanded fibres, perforates the choroid and the sclerotic, passes through the optic (p) Draper, Phys. 390, 391. 262 OPTIC TRACTS, ETC. foramen already mentioned, joins its fellow of the opposite side, and becomes involved with it, in the optic commis- sure or chiasm.*1 Within the commissure or chiasm, anato- mists have found a remarkable " decussation " or crossing of fibres — the innermost being sometimes described as crossing each other to pass to opposite eyes, and the outer as continuing their course to the eye of their own side.1 According to Draper, the commissure consists of three distinct systems of tubules — an anterior set, which are commissures between the two retinse, a posterior set, com- missures between the two optic thalami, (yet to be exam- ined, as supposed important parts of the sensorium,) and an interior set, the proper tubules of the optic nerve, which cross those from the right eye going to the left side of the brain, and those from the left eye going to the right side of the brain."s Two flattened bands, the optic tracts, diverging from the chiasm, wind around the two white cords, respectively, in which we recognize " peduncles " * of the cerebrum, under the designation crura cerebelli; and terminate, respectively, in the corpora geniculata of the optic thalamus, and, by scattered fibres, in the medullary surface of that ganglion, and also in the peduncles of the pineal gland; also, in the tubercula quadrigemina.u By the corpora geniculata of the optic thalamus, we are to understand three little elevations, found on each of the two convex, pear-shaped bodies, called the thalami optici. A nice description of these elevations is unneces- sary here. But all our purposes require us to give a par- ticular account of optic thalami and the tubercula quad- rigemina. The latter are sometimes described as the optic lobes. (q) Morton, 569. (r) Wilson, Anat. 395. (s) Draper, 391. (t) A prolongation, which suggests the notion of a foot, is called a peduncle. (u) In this description, I have followed Dr. Morton, who has followed Mr. Solly. THE THALAMI. 263 Their aspect is that of four rounded elevations, separated from each other by a crucial furrow. Without a full de- scription of the cranium and its contents, I could not in- dicate their places. Let it be enough for all our present purposes to know, that they are situated at the base of the brain, and that they are connected with the optic thalamus, in a manner presently to be described. Divided into pairs, the tubercula (commonly known simply as cor- pora) quadrigemina are distinguished as nates and testes— of which the former are placed above the latter. The nates, which are the larger, are covered externally by neurine of a grayish-white color. The testes are, extern- ally, nearly as white as medullary matter elsewhere* In- ternally, the corpora are wholly cineritious or gangliformw in structure. Their connexion with the thalamus is by a rounded fasciculus of medullary fibres. This fascicu- lus extends from the cerebellum to the testes, thence proceeding to one of the little elevations already distin- guished as the corpora geniculata. The thalami themselves are, as we have already seen, pear-shaped. Bodies, known as the corpora striata, lie be- fore them, and, as it were, embrace them; thus, as we shall see, enjoying a proximity of place, not unsuggestive of the near relation which the physiologist discovers in their functions. The thalami themselves, in like manner, em- brace the crura cerebri, already mentioned. The external aspect of the thalami is that of medullary neurine,x but, internally, the medullary is blended with the cineritious. Each thalamus is continuous with the corres- ponding " olivary " ganglion of the medulla oblongata.y This olivary ganglion may be described hereafter. For the present, let me beg the reader to remember these de- scriptions. Dry as they appear, they are of real interest to this investigation. (v) Ante, p. 203. (x) Ante, p. 248. (w) Ante, p. 249 ; Morton, 559. (y) Ante, p. 248. 264 THE THALAMI AND THE STRIATA. The peduncles of the pineal gland have been distin- guished as a point of termination for the optic nerve. These peduncles are the two cords of medullary neurine, which connect with the brain, a conical mass of vesicular neurine (the gland), placed upon the nates of the corpora quadrigemina. They run along the upper internal border of the optic thalamic I have thus traced the optic nerve, from what with Mr. Solly, here indorsed by Morton, I prefer to recognize as its beginning to its " double termination," as described by competent anatomists. I thought this tracing necessary to a complete description of the eye itself. And now, albeit such a course may look capricious, I propose to hold yet in reserve all further scrutiny of the eye-ball, and to pro- ceed to view the ganglia, of which the thalami just now examined constitute a part. My object in proceeding so, may vindicate the course I take to reach it, as we pro- ceed.. I have referred, under the name of corpora striata, to the ganglia, distinguished by anatomists as the anterior ganglia of the brain. The thalami and the striata, I have hinted, are of near relationship, and we shall see, though their supposed functions differ, they reciprocate or correspond in such a manner as to bind the thalami and the striata in an intimate relationship. But the thalami and the striata are only parts of a chain of ganglia be- neath the hemispheres of the cerebrum. "Anteriorly, we find the olfactive ganglia, or bulbs of the olfactory nerves, which are seated upon peduncles, though their character is manifest from the gray matter they contain. Behind these are the tubercula quadrigemina, to which the optic nerves run, and which are therefore their gan- glionic centres. What answers to the auditory ganglion is lodged at a distance back, at the fourth ventricle, and (z) Morton, 560. THEORY OF CARPENTER. 265 the gustatory ganglion is in the medulla oblongata.3 These," says Dr. Draper, here adopting the important theory of Carpenter, to be examined presently; " these are the ganglia of special sense, and to be regarded as subordinate to the thalamus, which is their common reg- ister." b This observation may appropriately introduce a theory, deserving all the honors due to truly scientific articles of faith. Bell's discovery of the distinction between fibres affer- ent and fibres efferent was followed by discoveries less striking, but of great importance. Hall first clearly recognized the conversion of impressions made at the periphery into that peculiar action already glanced at in another part of this volume.0 Now we are to recognize in Carpenter the accredited and worthy author of a the- ory, which many may regard as hardly of inferior rank to that which made the name of Bell illustrious. It is considered by Carpenter, that the assemblage of ganglionic masses, lying along the base of the skull in man, and partly included in the medulla oblongata—with which may probably be associated two pairs of ganglionic bodies known as the corpora striata and thalami optici— may be comprehended under the term Sensory Ganglia. Into the corpora striata and thalami optici may be traced the greater proportion of the fibres that constitute the various strands of the medulla oblongata, " and which," says Carpenter, " seem to stand in the same kind of rela- tion to the nerves of touch or l common sensation,' that the olfactive, optic, auditory, and gustative ganglia bear to their several nerve-trunks."d In the other ganglionic masses, comprehended under the term Sensory Ganglia, the nerves of the " special senses," taste, hearing, sight and smell, have their central terminations. (a) Ante, p. 248. (c) Ante, 83—referring to " reflex " acts. (b) Drap. Phys. 315. (d) Carpenter (ed. of 1855), 437. 266 SENSORY GANGLIA. It is remarked, as not a little interesting, that the cranio-spinal axis, (consisting of the spinal cord, the medulla oblongata, and the sensory ganglia,) and repre- senting in Vertebrated animals the whole nervous system of the Invertebrata (with the exception of the rudiments of the sympathetic which they possess), exists in the low- est known Vertebrated animal without any superaddition, and yet is sufficient for the performance of all its actions. This condition, it is said, has its parallel, even in the human species, in infants born without either cerebrum or cerebullum. Such infants, we are assured, have existed for days, breathing, sucking, crying, and performing va- rious other movements. Carpenter, indeed, finds no phys- iological reason, why their lives should not be prolonged, if they be nurtured with sufficient care.e The cerebral hemispheres, or hemispheric ganglia nor- mally superimposed on the Sensory Ganglia in all the higher Vertebrata, are in man so greatly developed as to cover in and obscure the Sensory Ganglia. But " it is a point especially worthy of note, that no sensory nerves terminate directly in the cerebrum, nor do any motor nerves issue from it; and there seems a strong probability that there is not (as formerly supposed) a direct continuity between all or any of the nerve-fibres distributed to the body, and the medullary substance of the cerebrum. For, whilst the nerves of ' special sense'f have their own gan- glionic centres, it cannot be shown, that the nervous fibres of' general' sense, which either enter the cranium as part of the cephalic nerves, or which pass up from the spinal cord, have any higher destination than the thalami optici. So the motor-fibres which pass forth from the cranium, either into the cephalic nerve-trunks, or into the motor columns of the spinal cord, though commonly designated as cere- bral, cannot be certainly said to have a higher origin than the corpora striata." g (e) lb. 438. (f) Ante, p. 265. (g) Carpenter (ed. of 1855), 438. CHAPTER XL THEORY OF PERCEPTION. CARPENTER himself does not present this theory as clashing with the theory of Reid, improved by Ham- ilton. Indeed, I half suspect, that interfering shadows of authoritative names obscured his clearness of " mental" perception, when he recognized the presence of the learned theories respecting the immediateness of perception. But the simple statement of his theory assures us, that the learned physiologist cannot well believe, that in percep- tion, mind immediately knows the objects of perception. Indeed, he says expressly: " However difficult it may be, under the influence of our life-long experience, to dissoci- ate any sensation of which we are cognizant, from the notion of its external cause—since the moment the feeling is experienced, and the mind is directed to it, the object from which it arises is immediately suggested—yet noth- ing is more certain than that all of which we are ourselves conscious, in any case whatever, is a certain internal or subjective state, a change in our previous consciousness; and that the mental recognition of the object to which that change is due, is dependent upon a higher mental process, to which the name of Perception or Perceptive Consciousness is now generally accorded." a (a) Physiology, 554. 268 KNOWLEDGE OF OUTNESS. Carpenter has also quoted and approved the language of a writer on the " Philosophy of Religion," who has well observed : " If we could by any means transport ourselves into the mind of an infant before the perceptive conscious- ness is awakened, we should find it in a state of absolute isolation from everything else in the world around it. Whatever objects may be presented to the eye, the ear, or the touch, they are treated simply as subjective feelings, without the mind's possessing any consciousness of them, as objects, at all. To it, the inward world is everything, the outward world is nothing." And again: "A sight or a sound, which at first produced simply an involuntary start, now awakens a smile or a look of recognition. The mind is evidently struggling out of itself; it begins to throw itself into the objects around, and to live in the world of out- ward realities." b And, in immediate connection with the last preceding sentence, Carpenter observes, that " a similar transition, more rapidly effected, may be distinguished in ourselves, during the passage from sleep, or from the insensibility of a swoon, to the state of complete wakefulness; when we are at first conscious only of our own sensations, and gradually come to the knowledge of our condition as it relates to the world around, and of the position and cir- cumstances, new and strange as they may be, in which we find ourselves." c True, the learned physiologist proceeds to say, that " the apprehension, or formation of an ele- mentary notion, of the outness or externality of the cause of a sensational change, is an operation, which the mind seems necessarily to perform, when it has attained a cer- tain stage of development; instinctively or intuitively making a definite distinction between the self, and the not-self, the subject and the object. "We do not," he ob- serves, as if by way of concession, and I think he thought (b) Morell, Philosophy of Religion, 7. (c) Carpenter (ed. of 1855), 554. IS IT INFERENTIAL? 269 of Hamilton when so conceding; " we do not infer the existence of objective realities by any act of the Reason ; in fact, the strict application of logical processes tends rather to shake than to confirm the belief in the external world ; but the qualities of matter are directly and imme- diately recognized by our minds, and we gradually learn to interpret and combine the impressions they make upon our consciousness, so as to derive from them a more or less definite notion of the object." But it is to be observ- ed, that Carpenter has hastened, by a note, to qualify this doctrine. He informs us,d that "outness" or "externali- ty" is to be understood in the present inquiry, as implying what is external to the mind. " Viewed in that aspect, the bodily organism stands in the same kind of relation to it, as does the world beyond; and the changes in the former which gives rise to sensations, are as much object- ive as those of the latter." But the language of the learned physiologist in the (supposed) concession, is not happy, even if we take explanatory notes into account. The necessary character of the operation performed by the mind, when it has attained a certain stage of development, is not quite clearly shown; nor do I find myself disposed to accept the proposition that we do not infer the existence of objective realities by any act of the reason. The yet unknown experiences of the foetal mind, and of the mind of early infancy, may be experiences of such acts of reason as we cannot even conceive of; and I am disposed to add, that the strict application of logical processes does not tend rather to shake than to confirm the belief in the ex- ternal world. At all events, I quite deny the right of any reasoner to lay it down, among the things incontrovertible, that the qualities of matter are directly and immediately recognized by our minds. On the whole, I am disposed to think, that Carpenter is not quite consistent with him- (d) lb., note 2. 270 DISTINCTIONS. self when he concedes as we have seen; and I adhere to what I may distinguish as the body of his theory, which, well adhered to, ranks its author where he ought to stand, in opposition to the views of Hamilton. I deny not that what we call perception is " an imme- diate knowledge of the present." All that I contend for is the true distinction as to what it is of which the mind has this immediate knowledge. Is it a sensation which is present to the mind, or is the thing sensated also present? I maintain with Newton and his school, and all the ancients whose opinions were approved by Newton, that there is present to the mind only the yet imperfectly known suggestion of the outward, which sensation and attention, with the aid of memory and understanding, may present as signals of the outward. I believe with Mr. Mill, that "in almost every act of our perceiving faculties, observation and inference are intimately blended. What we are said to observe is usually a compound result, of which one-tenth may be observation, and the remaining nine-tenths inference. " I affirm, for example," continues our logician,* " that I hear a man's voice. This would pass, in common lan- guage, for a direct perception. All, however, which is really perception, is, that I hear a sound. That the sound is a voice, and that voice the voice of a man, are not per- ceptions, but inferences. I affirm, again, that I saw my brother at a certain hour this morning. If any proposi- tion concerning a matter of fact would commonly be said to be known by the direct testimony of the senses, this surely would be so. The truth, however, is far otherwise. I only saw a certain colored surface; or rather, I had the kind of visual sensations which are usually produced by a colored surface; and from these as marks, known to be such by previous experience, I concluded that I saw my (e) System of Logic, B'k IV, ch. i, § 2. INDICATIONS. 271 brother. I might have had sensations precisely similar, when my brother was not there. I might have seen some other person so nearly resembling him in appearance, as, at the distance, and with the degree of attention which I bestowed, to be mistaken for him. I might have been asleep and have dreamed that I saw him; or in a state of nervous disorder, which brought his image before me in a waking hallucination. In all these modes men have been led to believe, that they saw persons well known to them, who were dead, or far distant. If any of these suppositions had been true, the affirmation that I saw my brother would have been erroneous; but whatever was matter of direct perception, namely, the visual sensations, would have been real. The inference only would have been ill grounded; I should have ascribed these sensations to a wrong cause." How plainly Mr. Mill has recognized the truth, that what we "see" or "hear" is the result of Reasoning— that is to say of Inference—is now apparent to the reader. But it may be well to add, that in all the instances of what are vulgarly called errors of sense/ he finds erroneous inferences, but holds that " there are none of them prop- erly errors of sense." It is in view of the facts as I understand them, however, rather than of the authority which may be recognized in the name of any man, that I contend against the theory of Reid. The facts appear to warrant us in holding, that the Will, directing the Attention, and the Memory, asso- ciating with the product of Sensation all that must be noticed for Induction, and the Understanding, acting on the facts thus brought before it, are productive of Percep- tion when it is most perfect; and that in involuntary Per- (f) Here distinguished as Hallucinations, or as Illusions, according to a given rule. Post. 272 , RESUME OF FACTS. ception, only Will is wanting, all the other acts occurring, be it even with an inconceivable rapidity. I am not, then, to be regarded as denying, that what we call perception is, as described by Reid, " an immediate knowledge of the present." What I hold is only a dis- crimination as to what is truly present, and as to its mode of presence, to immediate cognition. Nor need any pious apprehension startle at the statement of the simple theory which I prefer. It will be found, as we proceed, that the doctrine of perception, which the learned Hamilton im- proves without establishing, is subject to animadversion like that made by Brown, respecting Reid's own version of the theory. I will attempt to show, that the doctrine of Hamilton " affords, in truth, no better evidence of the existence of an external world " than the theory which I prefer, and which I look upon as proved by Carpenter. But do the facts support our theory ? We have seen the neurine, known as cineritious or ve- sicular, and the medullary or white variety of nervous matter. We have tried the reasons for distinguishing the roots of nerves as Bell distinguished them. We have dis- cerned afferent and efferent nerves. In the nervous ganglia, we have discerned what is apparently devoted to the " motor " influences, and what is apparently sacred to sensation. In the ganglia, distinguished as the true Sen- sorium, we have found a point to which afferent nerves may probably convey impressions; from which the efferent tissue may conduct the mental influences into action or expression. Objects which composed and sober physiolo- gists distinguish as the " central terminations" of the nerves devoted to the " special senses," taste, hearing, sight and smell; and objects which Carpenter describes with approbation as the analogous terminations of the nerves of touch or common sensation,8 are presented to (g) Ante, p. 265. SPECIAL SYSTEM OF THE EYE. 273 the scrutiny of the anatomist. These objects indicate the inwardness of the percipient mind. And when we eome to the renewed examination of the eye-ball, still we find renewed inducements to believe as I prefer to hold concerning visual perception. This I am disposed to hold without completing our examination of the eye-ball. Still reserving our description of the lens and its connections, as they most assure us that the eye is an optical instrument, I find in the other machinery con- nected with the eye-ball, and in the sensations which ac- company a visual perception, ample proof of the hypothe- sis—if I may call it so—which I prefer. The optic nerve, which we have traced from its begin- ning, as the coalition of the fibres which compose the retina, to its " double termination" in the ganglia devoted to sen- sation, is to be here considered as belonging to a special ' system. Of this system, are, of course, the olfactory and auditory as well as the optic sensory nerves; and all the motor nerves of the encephalon,h as well as those distin- guished as " of compound function." In such system, we should also find the muscles which are active in the movements of the eye. For, though, at present, we are not examining what constitutes the eye an optical instrument, strictly speaking, that its muscles are responsive to the action of its nerves in movement is a fact of interest in this immediate connexion. Even if we to- tally reject the theories, which argue that upon the black pigment, or upon the retina, images are formed, the eye is still a point at which the visual sensation points atten- tion during visual perception. And the muscles, playing here their beautiful responsive part, would form a part of any special system such as that I here suppose. It is not necessary for my present purposes to enter into a (h) A word of various U6e. Here used to signify the contents of the cephalon alone. 18 274 INDICATIONS OF A PARTIAL VIEW. nice description of the muscles, active in the movement of the eye. Let it serve our purpose to consider simply, that they answer to the power of nerves in ministering to the optic movements. So considering the muscular and ner- vous system, which we may for present purposes describe as visual, we may regard it simply as a part of that ar- rangement of nervous and muscular tissue, in which we find the plain distinction between the afferent and the ef- ferent—between the motor and the sensory. The nerve called motor oculi would then appear, as it does now, to have its origin within the cerebrum, the seat of higher mind, and thence to pass, in branches, to the eye-ball muscles, there to bear the messages of mind to which the eye is so responsive. Then, as now, the pathetic nerve would bear like mental messages to the pathetic muscle.1 Then, as now, trigeminus would play his part of motion and his part in mere sensation. All the motor nerves or parts of nerves would do their offices almost as evidently as at present. And the nerves and parts of nerves which now apparently relate to mere sensation, would plainly so relate, if we should still regard the optic nerve with its expansion just as we regard the other nerves of special sense. The feeling which accompanies a visual perception, would then as now direct attention to the eye. And, in view of the facts produced by Bell, and the additional facts produced by those who have adopted his system, verifying the distinction between fibres of sensation and efferent fibres,J I would venture to maintain the theory which I prefer, without the aid of what remains for scru- tiny within the eye-ball. To justify this proposition, I must bring before the (i) The action of the trochlearis muscle is to roll the eye downwards and out- wards. " It gives a sentimental expression to the eye, and is hence called the musciilus pathelicus; and the trochlear or pathetic nerve is exclusively distrib- uted upon it." Morton, 179. (j) Ante p. 253. DOCTRINE OF REGISTERING GANGLIA. 275 reader certain views of Dr. Draper, which I cannot be too guarded in producing. I would not be understood as eager to adopt or ready to reject them. Here, in presence of the ministry of justice; here, where testimony, which is but the revelation of what memory has registered or other- wise preserved, is constantly in question; such a theory as that of Dr. Draper may appear too fanciful, but it can- not be treated with indifference or disrespect. The theory in question is, in substance, found in Carpen- ter. But Dr. Draper has improved upon it, and extended and applied it, so that now, whoever may have first pro- duced it, it presents itself as Dr. Draper's own peculiar theory. By Carpenter himself, some species of registry for the impressions taken to the ganglia in which he finds the seat of consciousness, is evidently contemplated—nay, ex- pressly shown to be supposable. But it is in the language of the more enthusiastic Dr. Draper, that the doctrine is most startling. Here, we find the designation "registering ganglia" employed so frequently and with such perfect confidence, as to persuade us, that a little caution in ap- proaching Dr. Draper's views, may be desirable. How Dr. Draper has supposed the functions of the gan- glia in question to be involved in perception, we have partly seen already. We may see it more distinctly in another place. At present, if is only just to add, that Dr. Draper does not find "any necessary coincidence between an external form and its ganglionic impression any more than there is between the letters of a message delivered in a telegraph office and the signals which the telegraph gives to the distant station; yet these signals are easily retranslated into the original words — no more than there is between the letters of a printed page and the acts or scenes they may chance to describe ; but these letters call up with clearness in the mind of the reader the events and scenes. Indeed," he continues, " the quickness with which 276 DR. DRAPER'S DOCTRINE. the mind interprets such traces or impressions in its regis- tering ganglia is illustrated by the rapidity with which we gather the sense of a printed page without individualizing each of the letters it contains; or as a skillful accountant runs his eye over a long column of figures, and seems to come by intuition at once to the correct sum. The capa- bility which -we thus possess of determining a final percep- tion or judgment of results, without dwelling on the intermediate traces or steps, is also illustrated by our appreciation of music without concentrating our thoughts on the time and intensities of vibration or interference of the notes, though these mathematical relations are at the very bottom of the harmony; and conspicuously does the Supreme Intelligence, God, reach with unerring truth to every final result, without any necessary concern in the intermediate steps." If there be anything in such a theory as this, it well de- serves forensic study, and may well excite forensic expect- ation. When it is connected with the notion, that upon the retina, after death, may be discovered traces of the object last presented to the vision of the dead, it cannot be regarded with indifference. I adopt, then, as hypothetically probable, a part of Dr. Draper's theory. I may thereupon observe, that, if the theory so preferred, involves the notion that impressions must be made on nervous tissue, still we must remember, that the characters impressed need not be characters of representation or monographic characters. They need not make what we would call a picture of the outward, repre- sented object. And, withal, I do not propose absolutely to commit myself to any theory respecting registry. But I do believe, quite independently of all that we have yet to scrutinize within the eye-ball, that the impressions taken inwards by the nerves, do, in some shape, stand be- fore the mind as though legible. But when we add, what the anatomist and the optician THE STAND HERE TAKEN. 277 teach us of the humors of the eye, and of the instrument which they complete, we may with confidence conclude against the theory of Hamilton. I will not here attempt minute description of the lens, (called crystalline,) or of the other " humors " of the eye. It is enough to know, that no observer doubts, that, added to the parts we have already scrutinized, the humors con- stitute the eye "an optical instrument of great perfection." Thus, at present, we need only note, that the aqueous humor, which is mostly water, fills the anterior and pos- terior chambers of the eye as formed by the vertical sep- tum of the iris; that the jelly-like vitreous humor fills the area of the retina; and that the double-convex lens, dis- tinguished as the crystalline, is placed in the anterior body of the vitreous humor, the one being excavated in a cup- shaped manner for the reception of the other. For, in all the books of physiology, however unpretending, we have read of lens and humors and retina. And we know, that, whether images are photographed, as Dr. Draper argues, on the black pigment, or impressed on the retina, as be- lieved before his theory suggested reexamination, images are somehow formed within the eye, by the admitted light, to serve some purpose of the inward contemplative mind. Without concluding, therefore, all I have to say of visual perception, I will venture here to stand against all comers in defense of the theory of visual perception here preferred. The facts collected by the learned for the information of the vulgar of the present day, have led us, vulgar, to believe with Newton, rather than with Dr. Reid or any of his followers. Nor can we suffer any one to frighten us into the notion that the ghost of Berkely or the shade of Hume has paid us some nocturnal visit, and seduced us into infidelity or skepticism. We are just so foolish and foolhardy as to hold, that the facts collated by science are entirely inconsistent with the theories of Reid, of 278 sir william Hamilton's objections. Stewart, and of Hamilton. They seem to prove to us, that the object of consciousness in perception is what Hamilton contends we are not warranted in supposing it, if not "a modification of the percipient subject," then, in some sort, "a phenomenon numerically different from the object it represents." They seem to warrant a large en- listment under the banners of the Hypothetic Dualist, otherwise called Cosmothetic Idealist and Hypothetic Realist. They do not contradict, as Sir William Hamil- ton insists, that the theory founded on them contradicts, the fact given in consciousness. The theory founded on them does not bely the testimony of consciousness to our immediate perception of an outer world, and does not therefore " bely the veracity of consciousness altogether." It explains, without belying, the testimony of conscious- ness. It ascertains that " our immediate perception of an outer world" is not a fact given in consciousness. In various forms of objection, Sir William Hamilton contends, that the theory here preferred cannot show, that the fact of an intuitive (or immediate) perception as given in consciousness, ought not to be accepted; that it is un- able, therefore, to vindicate its own necessity, in order to explain the possibility of our knowledge of external things. He tells us, that the fact or facts for which a hypothesis is excogitated to account, must not themselves be hypothet- ical. And he insists, that " to account for the possibility of an unknown external world, the hypothesis of represen- tation is devised; and to account for the possibility of rep- resentation, we imagine the hypothesis of an external world." If the fact of an immediate or intuitive perception be indeed given in simple consciousness, it ought to be ac- cepted, and all argument is plainly needless to convince the H}'pothetic Dualist that he maintains a foolish theory. But if only a seeming fact can be discovered where the EXPLANATIONS and concessions. 279 "Natural Realist" asserts the presence of a real fact; if nearer observation of the fact supposed by the Natural Realist, discloses, that it is not of the supposed character, no testimony of our consciousness is wounded, and we may still regard the testimony of consciousness as unbelied. It was not in order to explain the possibility of our knowledge of external things—it was not to account for the possibility of an unknown external world — that the hypothesis of representation was devised. Certain facts representative of other facts—certain objects representative of other objects, were discovered in the external world. An apparatus of representation was discovered in the hu- man organism. The uselessness of such an apparatus, if the perception of the outer world be immediate, was and is apparent. Useless faculties and powers are not willing- ly attributed to human nature. Finding, in the eye, an apparatus apparently fitted to perform a part in the pro- cess of representation, and, in the nerves connected with the eye, a provision fit to take yet further inward what the eye receives; and finding in the apparent relation of all the nerves to the brain in one direction, and to other parts of the bodily organism in another direction, the constant suggestion of the inwardness with reference to body of percipient mind; philosophers have, not too hastily, con- cluded, that the mind does not immediately know things outward to itself. The theorist, who challenges this con- clusion—who asserts that perception is not representa- tive but immediately presentative—may seem to carry the voice of vulgar consciousness, when he so challenges and so asserts. But he who challenges conclusions in astrono- my may similarly boast of what the vulgar once believed, and what the ignorant continue to imagine. I admit, that the fact or facts for which a hypothesis is excogitated to account, must not themselves be hypothet- ical, except where we are unable to substitute for the 280 FURTHER ADMISSIONS AND EXPLANATIONS. hypothesis to be accounted for an absolute certainty. But if I show, that the hypothesis in question is the most prob- able of all hypotheses, where we have nothing higher than hypothesis, I sufficiently show the necessity of the hypo- thesis which I prefer. And if the main hypothesis be thus vindicated, the number and variety of the subaltern hy- potheses to which Hamilton objects, will hardly be allowed to set aside the chief hypothesis. I admit, that when we consider only the apparent tes- timony of our consciousness, it makes as strong a case for the doctrine of intuitional or presentative Perception, as this: The seeming testimony of Perception seems to fur- nish evidence against the scientific doctrine that the earth really bears the relation to the sun, which the sun appar- ently bears to the earth. I admit that our minds — that we—seem to look out of our bodies on the outward ; and that it requires the same species of reasoning, which proves, that mind and body, though apparently identical, are truly distinguishable—that the sun, though apparently rising and setting with reference to the earth, is quite otherwise related to the earth—in order to establish that a picture of the outward is inwardly presented to our con- templation. I further concede, that no individual human being ever born into the world could ever remember how or when he began to regard the inward appearance as representative of the outward reality. But I insist, that there is no such unimpeachable veracity in the seeming testimony of consciousness as Sir William Hamilton sup- poses. I insist, that we have no certainty of that, for which we have the seemiDg testimony of our consciousness —that we do not know, and cannot certainly declare, that in perception we immediately perceive what I regard as only the primary, mediate, and remote object of perception. But, we are told, the representative theory being, as aforesaid, merely hypothetical, violates the rule, that a legitimate hypothesis must account for the phenomenon heads of Hamilton's argument. 281 about which it is conversant, adequately and without vio- lence, in all its dependencies, relations, and peculiarities. And it is here objected, " the hypothesis in question only accomplishes its end — nay, only indicates its utility, by a mutilation, or more properly, by the destruction and re- creation, of the very phenomenon of the nature of which it would account. The entire phenomenon to be explain- ed by the supposition of a representative perception, is the fact given in consciousness, of the immediate knowl- edge or intuition of an existence different from self. This simple phenomenon it hews down into two fragments; into the existence and the intuition. The existence of external things, which is given only through their intui- tion, it admits; the intuition itself, though the ratio cog- noscendi, and to us, therefore, the ratio essendi of their reality, it rejects. But to annihilate what is prior and constitutive in the phenomenon, is in truth, to annihilate the phenomenon altogether. The existence of an exter- nal world, which the hypothesis proposes to explain, is no longer even a truncated fact of consciousness; for the existence given in consciousness, necessarily falls with the intuition on which it reposed. A representative percep- tion, is therefore, an hypothetical explanation of a suppos- ititious fact: it creates the nature it interprets." Under another head of objection to the representative theory, it is said, that the fact, which a legitimate hy- pothesis is devised to explain, must be within the sphere of experience. The fact, however, for which that of a representative perception accounts (the existence of ex- ternal things) transcends, ex hypothesi, all experience; it is the object of no real knowledge, but a bare ens rationis — a mere hyperphysical chimera. Another head of objection is, that " an hypothesis itself is probable in proportion as it works simply and naturally; that is, in proportion as it is dependent on no subsidiary hypothesis, as it involves nothing petitory, occult, super- 282 difficulties of the hamtltonian theory. natural, as an element of its explanation. In this respect, the doctrine of a representative perception is not less vicious than in others. To explain at all, it must not only postulate subsidiary hypotheses, but subsidiary mir- acles. The doctrine in question attempts to explain the knowledge of an unknown world, by the ratio of a repre- sentative perception; but it is impossible, by any con- ceivable relation, to apply the ratio to the facts." l It may be refreshing to know, that the grave Sir Wil- liam is able to indulge in the humorous observation, that " the Hypothetical Realist, in his effort to be ' wise above knowledge,' like the dog in the fable, loses the substance in attempting to realize the shadow." m The learned philosopher allows that the doctrine of in- tuitive perception is not without its difficulties. It calls, he admits, for careful distinction between perception proper and sensation proper. It must encounter disputes among its advocates as to what qualities are to be referred to the object perceived or non-ego, and what qualities to the percipient subject or ego. It must assert, as the law gov- erning the manifestation of perception proper and sensa- tion proper, "that perception and sensation, the objective and subjective, though both always coexistent, are always in the inverse ratio of each other"—in other words, that " above a certain point, the stronger the Sensation, the weaker the Perception."n Nevertheless, he insists, that the scheme of Natural Realism (in which the immediate- ness of Perception is asserted) is the only system in which the truth of consciousness and the possibility of knowledge can be vindicated; and, like Dr. Reid, Sir William Ham- ilton triumphantly takes position with the vulgar against the learned, maintaining with heartiness and trenchantly, that the external reality itself constitutes the immediate (1) Op. cit. 192, et seq. (n) lb. 199-419. (m) lb. 198. HAMILTON ON COSMOTHETIC IDEALISM.' 283 and only object of perception. "All perception," says our Philosopher, "is an immediate or presentative cognition, and has, therefore, .... only one univocal object, that, to wit: which it apprehends as now and here existent." ° There are, according to the same doctrine, two forms of perception—one of which, however, may, as conversant about a subject-object, be designated as Sensation proper; the other, as conversant about an object-object, being dis- tinguished as Perception proper. "All Perception," says Sir William, "is a sensitive cognition: it, therefore, appre- hends the existence of no object out of its organism, or not in immediate correlation to its organism; for thus only can an object exist, now and here, to sense."p By way of showing, that the representative or vicarious hypothesis does not work so simply and naturally as the theory of Natural Realism, Sir William Hamilton expends great learning in dividing, subdividing, subalternating, and otherwise torturing, the theories objected to. Some of the Cosmothetic Idealists (as we have already observed, I think) are represented as endeavoring to maintain, that the representative object is a modification of the mind or self. Others are distinguished as endeavoring to maintain, that the representative object is something in, but not a mere mode of mind; in other words, that it is a tertium quid, numerically different both from the subject knowing and the objected represented. Of the first class, some are represented as holding, that the immediate or ideal object is only logically distinguished from the perceptive act; others, as holding, that the immediate object is a mode of mind, existent out of the act of perceptive consciousness, and though contemplated in, not really identical with, that (o) Op. cit. 417. (p) lb. 418. I do not desire the reader to understand that Sir William Ham- ilton has made no other objections to the doctrine of Hypothetic Realism, than those I have stated. All I mean to indicate is, the character of the objections he has made. 284 DISCRIMINATIONS IN REPRESENTATIONISM. * act. It would be alarming to many of my readers if I should simply proceed to transcribe what is written by Sir William, in dividing this form of Hypothetic Realism in both its degrees, into "certain subaltern genera and species, according as the mind is supposed to be determ- ined to represent by causes—either (a) natural, physical, or (b) supernatural, hyperphysical." But, after inform- ing the reader, that I do not mean to ask more than a passing notice of the distinctions made by Sir William, I may proceed. " The natural determination to represent, is," continues Sir William (explaining the rejected theo- ries), " either (1.) one foreign and external (by the action of the material reality on the passive mind, through sense;) or (2.) one native and internal (a self determination of the impassive mind, on occasion of the presentation of the material object to sense;)—or finally (3.) one partly both (the mind being at once acted on and itself react- ing.") " The hyperphysical determination, again, may be maintained—either to be (1.) immediate and special; whether this be realized—(a) by the direct operation or concourse of God (as in a scheme of Occasional Causes)— or (b) by the influence of inferior supernatural agencies: —or (2.) mediate and general (as by the predetermined ordination of God, in a theory of Preestablished Harmo- ny.") If the representative object be viewed as something in, but not a mere mode of, mind; this second form of Representationism falls, we are told, "with certain inferior species: for the ideal or vicarious object has been held (i.) by some to be spiritual;—(ii.) by others to be corporeal;— while (iii.) others, to carry hypothesis to absurdity, have regarded it as neither spiritual nor corporeal, but of an in- conceivable nature between, or different from, both." q I confess, that if I had followed Sir William Hamilton through his notice of the "inferior species" of the second (q) Op. cit. 269. VINDICATION OF REPRESENTATIONISM. 285 form of Representationism, I would have presented an alarming picture of the variety of opinion, to be found among the advocates of the theory which I prefer. But what of that? If, answering the objection of Sir William, that the hypothesis which occasions this variety of opinion is itself unnecessary, I show that it is opposed to no certainty; that it is the most probable of all hypoth- eses, where we are left to simple supposition, the variety of subordinate or subaltern theories need not alarm us. We have much to learn, and many theories to reconcile, in all departments of scientific investigation. The world of physics as well as the world of metaphysics is familiar with contending theories. And we have seen, that the Natural Realist cannot boast of an unbroken harmony in the schools of his Philosophy, and that the doctrine of in- tuitive perception is not without its difficulties. I am wholly unable to perceive, that to explain his hy- pothesis, the Hypothetic Dualist " must not only postulate subsidiary hypotheses, but subsidiary miracles." I have, indeed, in my picture of Adam's first perception of the outward, ventured to suppose, that his first knowledge of the outness of what he perceived was supernaturally be- stowed upon him. But that supposition was chosen, be- cause it supposes a shorter process than that of the infer- ence which may acquaint the infant mind with the outness of things outward to itself. No miracle need be supposed in order to the supposition, that the knowledge we have of things outward to ourselves, is due to the representation of those things with which the mind is conversant. Sup- posing that the object of consciousness in perception is a modification of the percipient subject, or, at least, a phe- nomenon numerically different from the object it repre- sents, we may suppose the knowledge that the representa- tive object is such modification, is so numerically different, to be acquired in processes of foetal or of infantile expe- rience yet unrevealed to us. We are in no danger of 286 SOURCE OF THE notion of outness. supposing, that there is no real " object-object" because there is, apparently, a representative " subject-object." At the time of earliest recollection we believe in outness. How we came to know of outness yet remains for question. That we know of it, cannot be questioned. Let it be sup- posed, that the unseen guardians of our earliest moments of existence have informed us of the outward. Let it be supposed, that unremembered trains of reasoning informed us of the outward. Let hypothesis of any kind, not vio- lative of our consciousness, be entertained. The fact remains, that we believe in outness, that we know of out- ness— that the doctrine of outness does not surprise us, that it harmonises with our reason, that to contradict it sounds to folly. I fear I do not understand Sir William, when he says, that the fact for which the hypothesis of a representative perception accounts (the existence of external things) transcends, ex hypothesi, all experience. I am too unlearn- ed to say whether or not any advocate of the hypothesis in question ever entertained it for the purpose of account- ing for the existence of external things. But I know, that it may be entertained without any such purpose. The existence of external things does not depend upon expe- rience—it does not depend upon perception. The knowl- edge that there are things external to the knowing mind is assisted by perception, applied by it, and made various in it. But it cannot properly be regarded as dependent on perception. The reason does not reside in mere perception. Knowledge, higher than the knowledge of perception, able to correct the errors of the latter, ante- cedent to it, and surviving it, may certainly reside in the human soul. The existence of external things, though unperceived and not experienced, may be the proper ob- ject of a real knowledge, more than a bare ens ration is, other than a mere hyperphysical chimera. And the ac- ceptance of the doctrine that external things are specific- DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE SCHOOLS. 287 ally and particularly known through objects representative of them, does not necessitate the admission, that we know only through perception that things external to percipient minds really exist. I have, perhaps, already sufficiently answered the ob- jection, that the representative theory hews down into two fragments, the fact given in consciousness, of the immediate knowledge or intuition of an existence differ- ent from self. But let us look once more at this objec- tion. It is said, that our hypothesis divides the simple phenomenon given in consciousness into the existence and the intuition. Now, can one even speak of consciousness without distinguishing the existence from the intuition ? How is the distinction made by the Hypothetic Dualist to be distinguished from the distinction involved in the very notion of consciousness ? Is not the existence of self-con- templative self distinguishable from the intuition of self by self? Is the existence of self resident only in the con- templation of self? Is the ratio cognoscendi of self the ratio essendi of self? Is the intuition of things perceived prior and constitutive in the phenomenon of perception — or do we require, in order to perception, first, existence, and, next, intuition, of the presented or represented fact of ex- istence ? The only difference between the Hypothetical Dualist and the Natural Realist, is that the former limits the intuition to internal things representative of external things, wrhile the latter extends the intuition to external things, and quite ignores the apparent provisions for rep- resentative perception. The one says: What I behold directly is a phenomenon numerically different from the thing which I perceive as outward to myself. The other says: What I behold directly is the thing which I per- ceive as outward to myself. Each distinguishes, or may distinguish, between the existence of the thing looked upon and the intuition of that thing. Without pretending, then, to have either the under- 288 CONCLUSION. standing of Sir William's reasoning, which would enable me to state with perfect clearness what he means, or the capacity to answer with perfect clearness all his various objections, I presume to keep away from his peculiar doc- trine of Perception. I prefer the beautiful hypothesis which makes the mind conversant with the outward through the instruments, and in the modes, which we have partly contemplated while observing visual per- ception. I do not forget the great uncertainty, which still be- longs to all relating to the nervous system. But, in the face of all that may be said in this respect, if I could try the Carpenterian theory of the Nervous System, presenting it entire, and with its author's argu- ments, I might demand a verdict, quite in harmony with all the rules of legal findings and of the peculiar logic of forensic reasoning, as follows: I. We find, that nothing in the theory of Carpenter, peculiar to his system, or derived from that of Bell, belies the testimony of our consciousness, even if the theory in question be construed as hostile to Natural Realism as explained by Hamilton. II. That Carpenter's entire expression of his theory perfectly agrees with all the testimony of enlightened consciousness, with all the facts now certainly discovered, with the probabilities of future ascertainment and the progress of discovery, and, in a word, with all the rational in speculation. III. That the beautiful and interesting theory of Car- penter, considered as a whole, reposes on such facts and inferences as may be regarded as a rational foundation for a scientific theory. IV. That, taken to be true, the theory in question has the merit of removing difficulties and enlightening obscur- ities, not otherwise to be enlightened or removed. V. That such a theory presents so many marks which DISCOVERY LN METAPHYSICS. 289 commonly declare the presence of a truth, that we may safely treat it as a proven theory, until its fallacy, or some ill-consequence of its adoption, shall be made quite indis- putably apparent. Such a verdict being gained, I must insist upon the conflict of the theory so favored, with the theory of Reid, of Stewart, and of Hamilton, concerning the immediate- ness of perception. And, reiterating that I arrogate no philosophic rank; that only love of learning, not the fancy that I have it, has emboldened me to quarrel with the learned; I insist that the immediateness of our perceptions is not proven, and is quite improbable. Thus we perceive, that though a certain school of metaphysics has attempted to go backwards, metaphysical investigation did discover something which may well be added to our store of knowledge, and that Jeffreyr has mistaken the true value of that method of investigation. (r) Post. 19 CHAPTER XII. VARIETIES OF CEREBRATION. E have now reached a point at which it may be conven- ient to review what we have observed of human life. We have seen, that this life is partly natural and partly artful. We have seen, that it is partly organic or vegeta- tive, and partly animal. We have seen, that the natural in human life extends beyond the limits of the merely organic or vegetative. We have seen, that the life of will, or volitional, or artful life, is informed of the world ex- ternal to its organism through sensual intelligencers. We have seen, that that part of the mind which belongs to the volitional in human life, receives the information of the outward through the operation and correlation of mind-force and nerve-force. We have seen, that this in- formation of the outward is conveyed to the mind through the operation and conversion of the forces alluded to, in presenting to the mind a representation, or appearance, or suggestion of the outward. While examining the facts and theories connected with the observations thus made, we have glanced at most of the known facts and probable hypotheses relating to the manner in which the artful life of man connects the human body with the human mind. But we have yet more to see of mind and body as related in the entirety of human life. Recurring to the distinction between the life of Man as ¥ NATURE, ACTIVE IN HUMAN LIFE. 291 it belongs to the Order of Nature, and the same life as it appears in the Order of Art, we may remark, that human life in the Order of Art does not engross the services of sensation and perception. Life in the Order of Art has, indeed, great dependence on the sensual supplies presented in perception. And it does to great extent control and order those supplies. What shall be seen, what shall be heard, what shall in any manner be perceived, above all, what shall be so perceived as to be remembered—must, to a great extent, depend upon the wilful operations of the mind. But we must not forget how much the mind un- consciously receives through merely natural, unpurposed, entertainment of the information furnished by the senses. Nature teaches Art, while Art is, as it were, asleep. *The operations of the mind, which Art may regulate, do not cease when Art ceases to regulate them. Nay, the very operations of the mind involved in reasoning are some- times apparently unconscious, and, of course, merely natural. And a portion of what we call consciousness is evidently merely natural. Having thus again remembered that there may be dis- crimination between the conscious and the unconscious, we may have occasion to make a further scrutiny of the conscious and the unconscious in human life. We have just completed an examination of the mind as informed of outward things through sensual intelligencers. We have seen sensation founding what perception, better called, perhaps, conception, hastens to build up into the full idea. We have seen affections playing round the will like livelier electricity. We have seen the human being in its conscious intellections and affections. Having also seen the human being when unconscious of the outward as external to itself,* we are prepared for an examination of unconsciousness. (a) Ante, p. 11. 292 UNCONSCIOUS CEREBRATION. What do we mean by consciousness ? And what is the condition of the mind in what we call unconsciousness ? More than one learned physiologist has warned us against false conceptions of unconsciousness. One tells us that he has avoided using the term, because it is rjlain, that we know nothing of the thing which we mean to mark by the term. What we call unconscious- ness, he thinks, may be an altered mode of mind. The mind, in what we designate as an unconscious state, may be cut off from communication with other minds, and may lose its connexion with the external world. This may result from the suspension of the sensibility of the nervous system, and of the influence of volition over the mulbles, yet the mind may be in operation. It is Sir Benjamin Brodie who thus warns us, not in these very words, but in their substance.b And another physiologist of great distinction challenges the terms " unconscious cerebration." Cerebration being taken for the name of mental action in the brain, it is maintained, that such action may take place "uncon- sciously." Sir Henry Holland, questioning this doctrine, states it thus: " That there exists a faculty (if faculty it can fitly be called) of 'unconscious cerebration'—that is, of intel- lectual and emotional activity of the brain, presenting results as such, without any consciousness of the mind of the operations so going on. This opinion is mainly found- ed on the fact, familiar to our experience, that the mind, after being wholly detached for a time from some previous subject of thought or emotion, often returns to it again under a very altered view of what had before so engrossed it. The hypothesis assumes, that such changes are real (b) Mind and Matter, Dialogue Fourth. IS THERE SUCH A THING? 293 acts of the brain, going on without consciousness of their occurrence."c Sir H. Holland has objected, that this view, "virtually annuls for a time the connexion of mind with that con- sciousness which is the sole interpreter to us of mental existence; substituting for thought and reason, automatic acts, which are assumed to be equivalent in their effect. It is a far more simple view, and one more congruous with all other mental phenomena, to suppose, that when such changes in the mode of thinking or feeling on any subject do occur, they are due to fresh combinations of objects and ideas coming before the mind after the interval of time supposed; some that had effect before being weak- ened or displaced; others pressing forwards, which before were feeble or unseen." He doubts " whether there is any case which does not admit of this, or some analogous explanation." d I own, that these objections do not seem to me so for- midable as the learned writer appears to consider them. And I am not inclined to be cautious as the learned physiologist so often quoted in this volume shows himself to be, in speaking of unconscious cerebration as uncon- scious reasoning, or as unconscious emotion. I admit, with Brodie, that " the mind may be in opera- tion, although the suspension of the sensibility of the nervous system, and of the influence of volition over the muscles, destroys its connection with the external world, and prevents all communication with the mind of others."e But although the mind may be in such a mode of opera- tion as Sir Benjamin Brodie supposes, it may surely be unconscious. Is not the very language of the learned physiologist a happy description of a certain form of un- (c) Mental Physiology (2d London ed.), 288, note. (d) lb. (e) Mind and Matter, Dialogue Fourth. 294 INVOLUNTARY CEREBRATION. conscious cerebration, though designed for quite another use? I do not, however, pertinaciously insist upon the doc- trine, that consciousness may be discriminated from the special modes of mental activity. I do not mean to quar- rel violently with philosophers who frown upon such dis- crimination. I intend, indeed, to give some "reasons" for, as well as some against, the doctrine which regards the consciousness as but the mind itself. But I hold, with mildness, the belief that consciousness may be discrimi- nated from the modes of action which it contemplates, or which, as some would say, affirm themselves to conscious- ness. In view, however, of the opposite hypothesis of others, I may here concede, that "unconscious cerebra- tion" may not be a happy designation of the interesting state of involuntary or "automatic" cerebration here in question. But I quite agree with Dr. Carpenter, that there may be an automatic cerebration, such as he de- scribes under the designation of unconscious cerebration. And I cannot see the force of Dr. Holland's objection to the substitution of "automatic acts" for "thought and reason." Does the learned writer seriously mean to ques- tion, that the process of a thought, and the process of the mind in reasoning, are often automatic ? Some contend, I think, that the processes referred to are always automatic. I concede, however, that when thinking is volitional, when reasoning is voluntary, though the mind at large may be in truly automatic action, thinking and reasoning are not properly automatic. But "thought and reason" surely may be automatic, in the sense in which that term is used by Dr. Holland. Simple consciousness, as I define it, or suggest its characters, may be, what we have seen that some contend it must be, part of all our thinking. There are high authorities for holding, that in simple conscious- INTELLECTIONS. 295 ness we have no more, no less, than mind itself.f Of this, however, I am to say a word hereafter. For the present, I am satisfied with holding, that there may be unreflective, inattentive, and involuntary cerebration, and that this may be emotional as well as intellectual. On turning to what the writer says of the probably un- conscious participation of certain political sentiments,"* it will be observed, that the writer has quite "unconsciously" employed the word unconscious in a sense which, speaking strictly, he might now reject. But he would now suggest that one may unreflectively, inattentively, and involuntari- ly entertain a sentiment or an opinion. And he must insist on the proposition stated at the close of the preceding paragraph. In order to the maintenance of such a proposition, it is necessary to distinguish intellections from affections or emotions. Intellections have been thought distinguishable from understandings; just as reason is sometimes distinguished from understanding. But I apprehend, it will be quite convenient to consider intellections as including under- standings, and to treat the reason and the understanding as but one and the same. If so, the intellections are all operations of the mind which end in understanding, or which ought to end in understanding. And the intellect- ual may be considered as embracing all cerebration, which is purely percipient and comprehensive, or apprehensive. Such an account of intellectual cerebration is manifestly so far from satisfactory, however, that I am not much encouraged to attempt a definition of emotional cere- bration. (f) Hamilton's Philosophy (by Wight.) See also Mill's System of Logic, Buckle's Hist, of Civ. in Engl. (g) Post. 296 THE EMOTIONAL IN MAN. Yet I must maintain my proposition, which, I think, properly discriminates the volitional from the emotional. What is that we call Affection ? What are the Affec- tions ? What is the Emotional ? I offer no apology for having examined the thought, that affections and emotions being only forms of love, the latter may be simply named as life.11 But I would not be understood as arguing in favor of so fanciful a notion. Here, however, I concede, that all discriminations such as I attempt may seem but fanciful. There is a clear dis- tinction between the volitional and the emotional, but I have found it difficult to word my understanding of the distinction. I will cautiously approach the statement of my notion as to the distinctive characters of Emotion and of Will. Here, as in many other instances, I must accomplish all I can for all my purposes, while aiming specially at one important object. I will here examine what we call af- fections, not, indeed, with thoroughness, but with re- membrance of the interest we shall hereafter find to form distinct conceptions of the things so designated. " Once for all," is often, and inevitably, my rule of examination in these studies. In every determination of the mind, some preference is given, which emotions prompt, or which they seek to negative. This is not plainly true perhaps, in all the acts of mind, but I consider the affections as unsleeping, though the will may be at times inactive. Nature never rests— and Nature keeps the thoughts and the emotions active in the mind of man. I have already indicated my opinion, that even reasoning may often be a natural, and not an artful operation,1 though the will may operate to hasten or retard its action, or to turn it in the one direction or (h) Post. (i) Ante, p. 294. AUTOMATIC TENDENCIES OF THOUGHT. 297 the other. But however this may be, an ever active part of life is the emotional. The intellect appears to be em- ployed by the affections to seek out their objects, to dis- tinguish them, to bring them up before the judgment seat of Will and Understanding. How the Memory does service in all this we cannot find it difficult to ascertain. We know that even in perception the condition of the will is an important circumstance. If it, indeed, be simply unexerted, and no passion be aroused which blinds and overmasters it, the mind may live the life of Nature, and the contents of the Natural may visit it through all the senses. But if Will allow the passions to become its masters, or exalt them to perform its purposes, the blood no longer has its normal circulation, and, in some yet un- discovered process, the perceptive powers are perverted. Thus emotional disturbance, even in a state of body known as healthful, may affect the percipient apparatus so that the perceptive powers act3 as we may say, abnor- mally and treacherously. So it is that what I shall dis- tinguish as Hallucinations and Illusions are produced. Indeed, if I have rightly studied this most interesting subject, all the so-called automatic tendencies of thought are more or less affected by the emotional. At all events, the mind may be regarded as affecting or loving thoughts as well as persons. I shall not agree with those, who make distinction between affections, on the one hand, and appetites and desires on the other. As affections, I regard all motive feelings. In the Will, I recognize the Mind presiding over motives, and preferring this or that, or yielding or resisting the attractions of affections. In the Understanding, I discern the Mind regarding intellections and affections, and finding their connections and their order. In the Memory, I find the Mind custodian of its knowledge, knowing and continuing to know. I am aware, that this may sound like flippancy. But 298 WHAT IS THE WILL? after an attentive study of the subject, I am quite as much disposed to try the chances of a lucky hit at mere sug- gestion, as to make a definition of the Will, for instance, with the books before me. Yet, perhaps, I ought to honor the " authorities" by looking into them on such a question. What is the Will ? Will law-books tell us ? Will phi- losophy inform us ? In the law-books, we are told, that without the consent of the Will, human actions cannot be considered as culp- able. And this they tell us in connection with the doc- trine, that the capacity to distinguish right from wrong is the test of the presence and consent of will. It would ap- pear, therefore, that the law-books do not well distinguish between will and understanding; but that legal science plainly distinguishes between will and wish, emotion, or desire. " Will or Volition," says a philosopher, " is the last step of intention, the first step of action. It is the internal act, which leads to external acts."j Such a statement looks quite promising. Let us look a little at this notion. " We direct our thoughts," says the same philosopher, " to an action which we are about to perform: we intend to do it: we make it our aim: we place it before us, and act with purpose (propositum): we design it, or mark it out beforehand (designo.") And Will is the last step of inten- tion, so explained. "An action," adds the learned moralist, "that proceeds from my will or volition is my act. But if it do not pro- ceed from my will, it is not my act, though my limbs may be employed in it; as, for instance, if my hand, moved by another man, whose strength overmasters mine, strikes a (j) 1 Whewell Elements of Morality, including Polity, 7. A SUGGESTION. 299 blow. In such a case I am not a Free Agent. Human Actions suppose the Freedom of the Agent. In order to act, a man must be so circumstanced, that his volitions take effect on his limbs and organs, according to the usual constitution of man." This writer recognizes Springs of Action as stimulating the will to action, and holds, that "instinct as well as reason operates through the will, to direct the actions." k Among the springs of action he enumerates as follows: The Appetites, or bodily desires, common to man and brutes; and the Affections, which are tendencies or crav- ings directed towards conscious individuals. To these he adds the Mental Desires, the Moral Sentiments, and the Reflex Sentiments. As I have indicated, this looks promising. But when we look at it a little closely, it does not content us. We cannot accept a definition of the Will, which only tells us, that it is the last step of intention and the first step of action. And when we attempt to trace the operation of the will as stimulating to conclude intention and begin action, we do not distinguish it as clearly in the Whewell system as we would distinguish it, if possible. We feel disposed, therefore, to look yet further. Fet, why should we hope for better definitions or descriptions of the Will than this, which we have seen ? How wishes ripen into warm desires, how warm desires express themselves in will, some teachers may inform us; but they will not satisfy us with such information. Others may inform us, that the will is that within us which is able, in the words of Locke, " to begin or forbear, con- tinue or end several actions of our minds, and motions of our bodies, barely by a thought or preference of the mind ordering, or, as it were, commanding the doing or not doing such or such particular action."1 But we still (k) lb. 9. (1) Hum. Underst. b. ii, c. 21. 300 ATTENDANTS OF THE WILL. inquire, how is the will to be distinguished from its affec- tions on the one hand, and its actions on the other ? And, wherever we examine, we return at last to simple intro- spection, and determine to regard the will as only the imperial mind in presence of its thoughts and its affections, moved to contemplation or to action by the latter, and supplied with objects of contemplation and of action by the former. This account of Will and its relation to the Intellectual and the Affective Powers may at least suggest the truth. At all events, I will not try another definition. But yet a word or two, by way of illustration, may be useful. I have said already that emotion may disturb the circu- lation of the blood in such a manner as to make disturb- ance of perception. If I was not wrong, I brought before the reader a new and most interesting view of the rela- tion which we have already otherwise encountered as connecting mind and body. Now, I have to add what may still further illustrate that wonderful relation. In nearing the examination of the will with its attend- ant pleasures and its motive passions; with its joys, and hopes, and prides, and loves; and with its tender sympa- thies, and shame, and anger, and excessive grief, and other pains of body and of mind; in nearing will, so moved and so attended, we approach new evidence of the exceeding intimacy of our minds and bodies. Anger, whether pale or red; and shame, the blushing or the blanching; grief, the tearless, and the grief that weeps the very wantonness of wo; these show us body suffering because the mind is pained. The great importance of the life of Will, if I may speak of such a life, is strikingly apparent in a forensic observa- tion of human life. We have already seen the mind as present to its intellections and its motive affections. We have seen it reddening or paling in the tell-tale face. We EMOTIONAL INSANITY. 301 have beheld it blushing, blanching, tearless, weeping, in the body which expresses its emotions, and which is obe- dient to its will. And now we come to such a view of what we call affections as may more and more inspire us with the wish to know precisely what they are. The moral theologians, as well as certain physiologists, have recognized a most important truth, which judges have, on more than one occasion, treated as a foolish fancy. Without the slightest notable impairment of the powers known as intellectual, the Will appears at times unable to control the actions, which, in general, are subject to voli- tion. This may be considered as substantially the proposition, which the physiologists and writers on insanity are urging on the courts, and which the courts, misunderstanding it, refuse to entertain. Expecting to discuss it when I come to treat directly of insanity, I now proceed to such a view of it as may pre- pare us for its future entertainment. In the examination of Hallucinations, I expect to take some exception to nearly all the language to which I shall refer, in seeking explanations of the etiolgy of false per- ceptions. I cannot pretend to be entirely satisfied with any thing which Carpenter or others have presented, in attempted explanation of Emotional Insanity. And I refer to my dissatisfaction with attempted explanations of the process and the causes of hallucinations, just because I think whenever any one shall well explain hallucinations, we may look to him for full and clear descriptions of Emo- tional Insanity. And, notwithstanding my regard for nearly all I find in Carpenter, I cannot, I repeat, regard as absolutely full, and clear, and satisfactory, what he advances touching the Insanity in question. 302 carpenter's doctrine. Yet it is but just to Carpenter to add, that if we study carefully all he presents concerning this mysterious form of mental trouble, we may find our way to a conclusion such as judges may adopt and juries may apply. It is a doctrine of the learned physiologist, that the emotional and volitional movements differ as to their primal sources. And he holds, that involuntary move- ments may be due to the influence of emotion, strongly excited. He finds emotion and volition often hostile to each other. Will, endeavoring to check Emotion, he dis- covers sometimes as succeeding, sometimes as succumbing to Emotion. He asserts, as part of what I may denomi- nate, with great respect, the Carpenterian system, that "even the cerebrum" responds automatically to impres- sions fitted to excite it to " reflex action,"..... "when the force of the idea" possessing the mind "is morbidly exaggerated, and the will is not suspended, but merely weakened, as in many forms of insanity." m And we may add, that Carpenter considers, that "the influence of emotional conditions, when strongly excited, in directly producing involuntary movements, is readily explained on the idea, that the Sensory Ganglia are the seat of all con- sciousness, and the Cranio-Spinal Axis the real source of all movement. For there is no more difficulty in under- standing, that the excitement of peculiar states of con- sciousness in the Sensorial Centres through the instrument- ality of the Cerebrum, should give rise to automatic movements, than that such movements should follow simi- lar states of consciousness, when excited by impressions made upon the organs of vision, hearing, etc."n Dr. Carpenter, in connection with the quoted language, has referred to laughter, tickling, etc. This most careful thinker also points to a curious fact, which I cannot but regard as truly significant in this con- (m) Phys. 569. (n) lb. 567. THE DOCTRINE OF JURISTS AND THEOLOGIANS. 303 nection. Pathological investigation has, it seems, revealed the fact, that " muscles which will still act in obedience to emotional impulses, may be paralyzed to volitional, and vice versa. Thus, for example, the arm of a man affected with hemiplegia, which no effort of his will could move, has been seen to be violently jerked under the influence of the mental agitation consequent upon the sight of a friend." ° We may here pause to observe, that if this fact is rightly verified and rightly understood, it proves that we must carefully discriminate between the will and the affections. And, referring here to what the moral theo- logians of certain schools have held, it is to be observed, that some of them have recognized distinctions such as I attempt to explain.p Indeed, it is familiar to the lawyer that the definitions of malicious homicide and of manslaughter, make a clear distinction between simple passion fatally expressed in homicidal acts, and malice wreaking its designs through passional excitement. We have here the same distinction on which Carpenter insists. Emotion, that is to say, is, by the law of homicide, distinguished from the will; and it is recognized as capable of acting just as will may act, through nerve and muscle. We are now prepared for Carpenter's expression of the doctrine, which I recognize as worthy of acceptance in the courts of justice. Dr. Carpenter regards it as unquestionable, that many "criminal" actions are committed under the irresistible dominance of some insane impulse, the individual being at the time perfectly aware of their evil nature and of his (o) Carpenter (ed. of 1855), 568. (p) Compendium Theologiae Moralis, autore J. P. Gury, S. J. in Collegio Romano et in Seminari Valsensi prope Anicium Professore, Tractatus De Acti- bus Humanis, Caput Primum and Cap. II, Art. Ill, § II. 304 ESSENTIAL FEATURE OF EMOTIONAL DERANGEMENT. amenableness to punishment. " Such an impulse," he contends, " may lead the subject of it to kill, to commit a rape, to steal, to burn, and so on, and this without the least intention of doing injury to another; and many in- stances have occurred in which the individuals, thus affected, have voluntarily withdrawn themselves from the circumstances of whose exciting influence they were con- scious, and have even begged to be put under restraint." I must here remind my reader of the proposition I ex- pect to prove, and which the views of Dr. Carpenter will much assist me in explaining. I have not asserted, that when the will, in certain cases, seems to be unable to control the actions, commonly con- trolled by will, there is in fact no wounding of the powers known as intellectual. Far from it. All I say is, that the lesion of the intellectual powers, in the supposed cases, is not notable. Ordinary observation certainly would not detect it. Whether any kind of observation can detect it so as to describe it, may be doubted. Sometimes, if not always, the unfortunates, who avoid what they are conscious may attract them into homicidal acts, yet, being overcome, commit the fatal acts without intention to commit a crime, are evidently yielding to what we commonly distinguish as hallucination. But the fact remains as Carpenter has stated it. And now for his ac- count of it. A certain limited and settled disorder of any one por- tion of the emotional nature is said, by Dr. Carpenter, to have one essential feature. This feature is, that "some one particular tendency acquires a dominance over the rest." And it is considered, that this may proceed " either from an extraordinary exaggeration of the tendency, whereby it comes to overmaster even a strongly-exercised volitional control; or, on the other hand, from a primary weakening of the volitional control, which leaves the pre- DISCRIMINATION OF WILL FROM AFFECTIONS. 305 dominant bias of the individual free to exercise itself." "Again," continues Dr. Carpenter,* "the exaggerated tendency may operate (like an ordinary Emotion) either in directly prompting to some kind of action which is the expression of it, or in modifying the course of thought, by habitually presenting erroneous notions upon the subjects to which the disordered feeling relates, as the basis of in- tellectual operations." How the reader will regard this explanation, I cannot anticipate. But while I do not look upon it as accounting perfectly for the unquestionable facts for which it attempts to account, I must consider that it places on a scientific basis the important doctrine which it advocates.1 The remarkable phenomena, of which the scientific writers have collected evidence, in order to establish that insanity assumes a certain form, appear at times without seeming in the least remarkable. We see them in the " nervous" woman, and in the infant. And they teach us to distinguish Will from its affections. They will not allow us to consider the affections as the mere constituents of Will. We further learn from what we have observed, that actions commonly controlled by will may sometimes be produced by the affections, without the action of the Will. In view of what we thus derive from studying the action of the Will and that of the affections, it is wise to aban- don all endeavors in the way of definition, when we treat of the affections. But regarding these as identical with the emotions, and refusing to confine them to the relations of conscious individuals, I venture to consider the affec- tions as the attractable and attracting forces of the mind. And I conclude as I began, by looking on the Will as (q) Carpenter (ed. of 1855), 630. (r) I ought, perhaps, to add the remarkable illustration furnished by the learned physiologist. But I shall have occasion to produce it in another place. 20 306 ACTION OF THE WILL. acting in the midst of intellections and affections, attracted to decide in favor of this or of that by its affections, but enabled through its conscience to resist all evil promptings, and to choose, among its motives, those which tend to good. CHAPTER XIII. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. RETURNING here to the important proposition, which I ventured to submit concerning unreflective, inat- tentive, and involuntary cerebration, I consider that I may with confidence insist, that such cerebration may be either simply intellectual or emotional as well as in- tellectual. I have surely made it clear, that the emotional and the volitional may be discriminated.* And I cannot think it necessary to add much to the showing made by Dr. Hol- land in favor of the doctrine, which he has rejected.1* Yet it may be proper here to add, from Carpenter, the fol- lowing : " Most persons who attend to their own mental opera- tions, are aware that when they have been occupied for some time about a particular subject, and have then trans- ferred their attention to some other, the first, when they return to the consideration of it, may be found to present an aspect very different from that which it possessed be- fore it was put aside; notwithstanding that the mind has since been so completely engrossed with the second subject as not to have been consciously directed towards the first, (a) Mr. John Stuart Mill, as well as Dr. Carpenter, distinguishes emotions from volitions. System of Logic, Book I, ch. III. (b) Ante, p. 305. 308 AUTOMATIC CEREBRATION. in the interval. Now a part of this change may depend upon the altered condition of the mind itself, such as we experience when we take up a subject in the morning with all the vigor which we derive from the refreshment of sleep, and find no difficulty in overcoming difficulties and in disentangling perplexities which checked our further progress the night before, when we were too weary to give more than a languid attention to the points to be made out, and could use no exertion in the search for their solu- tions. But this by no means accounts for the entirely new development which the subject is frequently found to have undergone, when we return to it after a considerable interval; a development which cannot be reasonably ex- plained in any other mode, than by attributing it to the intermediate activity of the cerebrum, which has in this instance automatically evolved the result without any consciousness."c The student of the Physiology of Carpenter will well remember this important doctrine. And he cannot have forgotten, that the learned physiologist insists, moreover, that " emotional states, or rather states which constitute emotions when we become conscious of them, may be developed by the same process; so that our feelings to- wards persons and objects may undergo most important changes, without our being in the least degree aware, until we have our attention directed to our own mental state, of the alteration which has taken place in them. A very common but very characteristic example of this kind of action, is afforded by the powerful attachment which often grows up between individuals of opposite sexes, with- out either being aware of the fact; the full strength of this attachment being only revealed to the consciousness of each, when circumstances threaten a separation, and when each becomes cognizant of the feelings entertained (c) Phys. (ed. of 1855), 587. A DIFFICULTY. 309 by the other. The existence of a mutual attachment, in- deed, is often recognized by a by-stander (especially if the perceptions be sharpened by jealousy, which leads to an intuitive interpretation of many minute occurrences, which would be without signification to an ordinary observer), before either of the parties has made the discovery, wheth- er as regards the individual self, or the beloved object; the Cerebral state manifesting itself in action, although no distinct consciousness of that state has been attained, chiefly because the whole attention, being attracted by the present enjoyment, there is little disposition to Intro- spection. The fact, indeed, is recognized in our own ordinary language; for we continually speak of the ' feel- ings ' which we unconsciously entertain towards another, and of our not becoming aware of them until some cir- cumstances call them into activity. Here, again, it would seem as if the material organ of these feelings tends to form itself in accordance with the impressions which are habitually made upon it; so that we are as completely unaware of the changes whicli may have taken place in it, as we are of those by which passing events are regis- tered in our minds, until some circumstance calls forth the conscious manifestation, which is the 'reflex' of the new condition which the organ has acquired. And it may be desirable to recall the fact in this connection, that the Emotional state seems often to be determined by circum- stances of which the individual has no distinct conscious- ness, and especially by the emotional states of those by whom he is surrounded; a mode of influence which is exerted with peculiar potency on the minds of children, and which is a most important element in their Moral education." It only remains to observe, in fairness, that there is, in Carpenter's expression of his theory, a yet unnoted diffi- culty. The learned physiologist attempts to justify his 310 SIMPLE CONSCIOUSNESS. use of the terms " unconscious cerebration" by distinguish- ing between the unconscious mental action, which he designates as we have seen, and the reasoning or emotion into which mere consciousness converts that mental action. Such distinction is unnecessary, and I think it is unreal. But with all its imperfections, I submit the theory of what I call an unreflective, and involuntary cerebration, to the judgment of my readers. And I beg them to con- sider it with fairness. I entreat them not to think, that it degrades the reason or reduces the emotions to the rank of mere material forces, as we have already glanced at these. There is no degradation of the reason, or of the emotions, in the theory which I attempt to recommend in this connexion. True, we shall perceive, if we adopt it, that the natural has far more operation in the life of man than the artful.d True, we shall discover automatic action where we are accustomed to consider all as merely ex- pressive of the will. But we shall not be led to look on Nature as possessing all the life of man. The clear dis- tinction, which we have already made, between the Nat- ural and that in which the Art of Man distinctly shows itself, will not disappear in presence of the theory here brought before our minds. The artful life of Man is not annihilated by the truth; that much of human reasoning, and much of the emotional in man, flows through his being like a stream of light, unheeded by the conscious- ness. Still is the artful higher than the natural in whicli it moves and has its being, as a creature in its element. If I have vindicated my attempted modification of the doctrine of unconscious cerebration, I have prepared the reader to agree with what I shall submit with reference to simple consciousness. My view of consciousness supposes it to be the lowest degree of what we call reflection. Some activity of mind (d) Ante, p. I ' MORBID INTROSPECTION AND REFLECTION. 311 may be involved in it. And yet I must regard it as in- volving little action of the mind. It is the mental intui- tion of the mind, and intuition is not simply passive. So we must regard the consciousness as active. Yet a close regard of it will much incline us to regard it as inactive, as a merely passive state of mind. It seems to me dis- tinguishable not alone from what we call attention, but from what we designate reflection. In reflection I would recognize a voluntary or involuntary introspection.e And the introspection which I find in mere reflection ought to be distinguished from another introspection. In the lat- ter, I would recognize a voluntary deepening of introspec- tion as involved in mere reflection. This species of intro- spection is a study of the operations of the mind. It is the understanding consciously applying its capacity to the inspection of the mind or of its operations, with a view to clearer ascertainment of their nature or relations. It may be a painful operation of the mind. Indeed, the mind is not inclined to it. There seems to be involved in it a painful tension of the mind. Long-protracted intro- spection is attended by illusions, such as mere inspection, long-protracted, of an outward object, may produce. A darkening of mind may also seem to follow long-protracted introspection. If the introspection be continued, after this effect is produced, the known obscurity of metaphys- ical speculations may present itself, unnoticed by the thinker, but too evident in the results of thought in language. Morbid introspection and reflection have a yet unwrit- ten history, which De Quincy might have written. He has furnished good materials for such a history in writ- ing his Confessions. Opium-eating is suggestive of an introspection-eating, which might be described by such a (e) Carpenter. 312 REFLECTION, INTROSPECTION, ATTENTION. writer as De Quincy, with great interest to all reflective readers. Mere reflection may, as I have intimated, be regarded as a lower degree of voluntary introspection. But it may be quite involuntary. When involuntary, it may not be easily discriminable from that dreaming of our waking moments, known as reverie. And yet I think there is a difference between mere reverie and the involuntary intro- spection called reflection. I may treat of this hereafter. In reflection, such as I would designate as voluntary, we must note the almost total disappearance of volition, on the turning inward of the mental intuition. Common language is, indeed, familiar with the admonition to " reflect." But the reflection thus admonished is equiva- lent to the suggestion of a train of thoughts in what we call remembrance, or in what we commonly describe as reasoning. In true reflection, as I think I recognize it, the volitional is chiefly active in the turning of the mind to inward contemplation. This accomplished, will is little active, save when deepened introspection, such as we may properly distinguish by the name of introspection, is de- sirable, or, at least, is purposed. If reflection be what I consider it, no reader needs to be instructed as to its relation to certain morbid states of mind. Reflection, then, and introspection, though avail- able for useful purposes, though entirely indispensable to rational behavior, may be so abused as to become a cause of what we call disease. Disease, as we shall see hereafter, even when distinguished as insanity, is manifest in body, and has been supposed by some inherent in the body only. But of this no more at present. In Attention, I have sometimes fancied, that we ought to recognize the mere superlative degree of consciousness or of reflection. In common language, we do not always discriminate attention from reflection. In a certain sense, abercrombie's view OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 313 attention is involved in simple consciousness, as I define it. Abercrombie has described the mind in consciousness as attending to its operations. I would not attempt to set aside this usage of the word attention. But I would discriminate, in such a course of studies as the present, as I wrould not as to ordinary modes of speech. In such dis- crimination, specially relating to our present purposes, I would distinguish in attention the direction of the mind in mental vision, and its concentration on some single ob- ject of regard. The object of attention may, indeed, be simple, or it may be complex. It may be a train of thought, perhaps; although in mind, attentively regarding trains of thought, I would prefer to recognize simply the deepened introspection which I have attempted to de- scribe. Attention rather seems to me the mere direction and concentration of the mind, exclusively of conscious- ness. That consciousness does commonly attend such direction and concentration of the mind, I do not dispute. Nor do I question, that to discriminate the attendant con- sciousness from what I recognize in mere attention, may be difficult. But I have shown, I think, that it is not impossible. But here I must encounter theories quite hostile to this notion. I am not disposed to quarrel violently with the authors of those hostile theories, or with the theories themselves. But, all for love, I am disposed to grapple with the theories alluded to. Abercrombie tells us, that consciousness appears to be simply the state of attending to what is passing in the mind at the time. And in reflection, he distinguishes " a compound operation of the mind, including various mental processes, especially consciousness, memory, and the act of comparison or judgment." Reflection seems to him to be " connected with a power of remembering past percep- tions and past mental processes—of comparing them with 314 MILL'S VIEW. present feelings, so as to trace between them a relation, as belonging to the same sentient being—and further, of tracing the laws by which the mental processes are regu- lated." He considers it also as employed " in tracing the relations and sequences of external things, and thus prov- ing the source of certain notions expressive of these relations."f Mr. Mill observes, that " a Feeling and a State of Con- sciousness are, in the language of philosophy, equivalent expressions: everything is a Feeling, of which the mind is conscious: everything which it feels, or, in other words, which forms a part of its own sentient existence. In pop- ular language, Feeling is not always synonymous with State of Consciousness; being often taken more peculiarly for these states which are conceived as belonging to the sensitive, or to the emotional phasis of our nature, and sometimes with a still narrower restriction, to the emo- tional alone: as distinguished from what are conceived as belonging to the percipient, or intellectual phasis. But this is an admitted departure from correctness of language; just as, by a popular perversion, the exact converse of this, the word Mind is withdrawn from its rightful generality of signification, and restricted to the intellect. The still greater perversion by which Feeling is sometimes confined, not only to bodily sensations, but to the sensations of a single sense, that of touch, needs not be more particularly adverted to. " Feeling," continues Mr. Mill, " in the proper sense of the term, is a genus, of which Sensation, Emotion, and Thought, are subordinate species. Under the word Thought is here to be included whatever we are internally conscious of when we are said to think; from the con- sciousness we have when we think of a red color without (f) Intellec. Pow., Part. II, sec. II. Hamilton's view. 315 having it before our eyes, to the most recondite thoughts of a philosopher or poet." And the learned writer also warns us to distinguish between thoughts and sensations on the one hand, and the objects of thoughts and sensa- tions on the other. He calls attention, likewise, to the proper " distinction between the sensation itself, and the state of the bodily organs which precedes the sensation, and which constitutes the physical agency by which it is produced." s Sir William Hamilton, like Mr. Mill, regards the con- sciousness as but the Mind at large. His doctrine is not so attractively presented as the doctrine of Mr. Mill, but we may quote a paragraph or two with reasonable hope of understanding what we quote. Hamilton's opinion is thus expressed : "Aristotle, Des- cartes, Locke, and philosophers in general, have regarded consciousness, not as a particular faculty, but as the uni- versal condition of intelligence. Reid, on the contrary, following, probably, Hutcheson, and followed by.Stewart, Royer Collard, and others, has classed consciousness as a co-ordinate faculty with the other intellectual powers; distinguished from them, not as the species from the indi- vidual, but as the individual from the individual. And as the particular faculties have each their peculiar object, so the peculiar object of consciousness is, the operations of the other faculties themselves, to the exclusion of the objects about which these operations are conversant. This analysis we regard as false. For it is impossible, in the first place, to discriminate consciousness from all the other cognitive faculties, or to discriminate any one of these from con- sciousness ; and in the second, to conceive a faculty cog- nizant of the various mental operations, without being also cognizant of their several objects. (g) System of Logic, Book I, chap. III. 316 "I KNOW THAT I KNOW." "We know," continues our severe philosopher; "and we know that we know: these propositions, logically dis- tinct, are really identical; each implies the other. We know (i. e., feel, perceive, imagine, remember, etc.,) only as we know in some particular manner (i. e., feel, perceive, etc.) So true is the scholastic brocard: 'Non sentimus nisi sentiamus nos sentire; non sentimus nos sentire nisi sen- tiamus.' The attempt to analyze the cognition I know, and the cognition I know that I know, into the separate energies of distinct faculties, is therefore vain. But this is the analysis of Reid. Connsciousness, which the form- ula I know that I know adequately expresses, he viewrs as a power specifically distinct from the various cognitive fac- ulties comprehended under the formula I know, precisely as these faculties are severally contradistinguished from each other. But here the parallel does not hold. I can feel without perceiving, I can perceive without imagining, I can imagine without remembering, I can remember without judging (in the emphatic signification), I can judge without willing. One of these acts does not imme- diately suppose the other. Though modes merely of the same indivisible subject, they are modes in relation to each other, really distinct, and admit, therefore, of psychological discrimination. But can I feel without being conscious that I feel ? can I remember, without being conscious that I remember? or can I be conscious, without being con- scious that I perceive, or imagine, or reason—that I ener- gize, in short, in some determinate mode, which Reid would view as the act of a faculty specifically different from consciousness ? " h A measureless audacity may seem involved in question- ing such reasoning as this. But I confess that I cannot regard this reasoning as quite conclusive. (h) Philosophy of Sir W. Hamilton, 171. THE TRUE DISCRIMINATION. 317 Consciousness, the name, should be abolished, if the thing so named cannot be discriminated from the things which it examines, contemplates, interprets, or which, as I prefer to say of simple consciousness, affirm themselves to it. That consciousness is merely mind, receiving the im- pressions of the outward, I cannot concede. I must con- sider it as mind (what shall I say but merely) conscious of the mental states and modes of action, and activity, which may be psychologically as well as logically discriminated from the mental consciousness. I own the difficulty of the analysis which Hamilton rejects; but I cannot regard it as impossible, or as a merely logical analysis of mental con- stitution. Consciousness may commonly, and almost inva- riably, seem a part of all the mental operations, yet it may not truly be a part of them at any time. It may be mind self-contemplative, in the lowest sense of contempla- tion, but it is not mind as active in the modes it contem- plates. And it deserves to be regarded as a state of mind, in wThich the lowest form of faculty, distinctly seen in what we call reflection and attention, may be discernible. But I have said already, that I am not minded to insist, with pertinacity, on my conception of the conscious and unconscious. Dogmatism, I have owned, is not becoming even in philosophers, who treat of mental modes and fac- ulties. It would be grossly unbecoming in a simple stu- dent of psychology, such as the writer of this unpretending volume. In what follows, therefore, touching consciousness, re- flection, and attention, as in all that I have said, and in the whole of what I shall hereafter say of mind, I beg the reader to remember, that I speak as student only, not as metaphysical philosophers might speak. It may be necessary, ere proceeding further, to demand what many readers may not willingly accord without de- mand, or even on demand. I am the humblest in capacity, 318 FACULTIES AND FUNCTIONS. and among the humblest in pretension, of all " metaphy- sicians" and "physiologists." But in the interest of true philosophy, I feel emboldened to demand of readers close attention to the mental operations known to their own introspection, as those operations may accompany these studies. I have said, that such attention is not always a delight. I have acknowledged, that it may be painful, and that it is often painful. We may find, moreover, that to give it to such studies as the present, may be quite be- yond the common capacity of men. And yet I must de- mand it here. Nor is this all that I demand. I must demand, that readers shall remember all they know of the distinction between faculties and functions, simple acts and complex action, acts of mind and their expressions in and through the body. Faculties are commonly, and very justly, regarded as simply mental. Webster tells us, that faculty is "that power of the mind or intellect which enables it to receive, revive, or modify perceptions; as the faculty of seeing, of hearing, of imagining, of remembering, &c.: or, in gen- eral, the faculties may be called the powers or capacities of the mind." Without agreeing to this definition as pre- cisely accurate, we may regard it as substantially correct, and place it in clear contrast with the functions of the body as we have already seen the latter.1 We have seen, that the coporeal life of man is double — animal and veg- etative — and that animal as well as vegetative life may be regarded as the simple aggregate of functions. Physical phenomena—perhaps, I ought to say with greater definiteness, coporeal phenomena—attend all forms of consciousness. But in the simple consciousness I do not find what others find in it, and as I understand this state (i) Ante, ch. I, B. I. BODY AND MIND. 319 of mind, it cannot well be distinctly marked by attendant physical phenomena. The phenomena attendant on reflection, as I would dis- criminate it, may not be describable. But that the mind when self-contemplative feels its state of consciousness within and through the brain, and that new waste of ner- vous force attends the deepening of simple consciousness into reflection, I suppose to be unquestionable. Attention,—the superlative degree of consciousness,— which concentrates the mental vision on a single object of regard, is known to be attended by outwardly visible phe- nomena. A point between the eyes, below the centre of the forehead, is connected somehow with attentive thought, in such a manner as to manifest the presence of such thought within the organism. I have said, within the organism. I have not a doubt that mind, whatever it may be, exists internally to body; that it is contained by body; that the greatest inwardness of body may be properly conceived as bounding on the greatest outwardness of mind; and I may boldly state what I believe in this respect. Observe: I do not here pro- fess to have attained to certainty with reference to the ner- vous organism of the mind. I do not say, that I have not a doubt with reference to propositions which I have already checked the physiologist for stating with too much posi- tiveness. All I say is, that the mind is evidently inward in relation to the body. Here it may be proper to examine with a closer scrutiny than any yet attempted, the degree in which the body limits, influences, and is instrumentally subservient to the mind. We have already more or less informed ourselves with reference to this examination. We have seen the mind informed by sensual intelligencers. We have seen the blood disturbing cerebration by the substitution of dark 320 NOTIONS REMINISCENT OF CRANIOLOGY. colored blood for that distinguished as arterial. We have discovered, more or less distinctly, that hallucinations and illusions may be thus induced. We have encountered theories with reference to mental alienation which assume that the excess of nervous force may be connected with the exaltation of the faculties and functions seen in mania. And we have learned that grave and scientifical hypothe- ses regard the nervous force as generated in the cineritious neurine, and as physical in character, however it may be convertible into mind-force. We have seen, moreover, that the nervous matter has been thought to register im- pressions. We may add in this connection, that some new develop- ment of what we call phrenology, appears to be a thing of fair expectancy. The physiologists, condemning craniology, (and well con- demning it, I think,) have lately shown some favor to some notions reminiscent of the Gallian craniology. Not only the views of Carpenter and Draper are so reminiscent— those, I mean, with reference to registering ganglia. Sir B. Brodie seems inclined to favor another so reminiscent notion, if he does not directly entertain it. He apparently holds, with Hooke, " that there are various structures in the brain adapting it for the part which it has to perform in connection with the mental principle — that there is an organ of memory, for example."-* He concedes, indeed, that " at present we must be content to acknowledge that we know nothing as to the locality of the function" in question, "nor of the minute changes of organization which are connected with it." But he holds, that the brain is not a single organ, but a congeries of organs, coop- erating for one purpose; he supposes the different capaci- ties of individuals for the perception of colors, musical (j) Mind and Matter, Dial. 2. LAVATER, GALL, BUCHANAN. 321 sounds, etc., to be probably dependent on different organi- zation of the brain; and he entertains the question whether there may be an organ of speech. At all events, he contends that " memory is closely allied to sensation," and that " the resemblance between the two orders of phe- nomena is so great as to justify the suspicion that the ner- vous system is instrumental in producing the one as well as the other; while a multitude of facts show that the sus- picion is well founded."* Here the reference is to facts of which nearly all readers have some knowledge. That a blow on the head, and fever, and the corporeal changes due to age, may variously alter the mysterious capacity of memory, is well attested and well known. Sometimes they appear to work mate- rial impairment only, sometimes the entire destruction of the memory. Facts such as we are thus compelled to consider, joined to urgent argument in favor of improvements of the Gall- ian Phrenology, may call upon us to consider whether Physiognomy is all delusion, and whether old or new Phrenology deserves respect. I ought not to pronounce in answer to such questions. Even in the most extravagant enthusiasm of the Swiss Physiognomist, there is so much for science to consider, that even the learned ought to be a little careful in pro- nouncing judgment against Lavater. I have not studied Gallian Phrenology with any thing resembling thoroughness. Nor have I found myself in- duced to study thoroughly the system of Buchanan. It is not because I find no virtue in these systems, that I have not studied them with thoroughness. One cannot study all things Even Anthropology may take such shapes as put us on our guard against the doctrines they 21 (k) Mind and Matter, Dial. 2. 322 SYSTEM OF THE SWISS ENTHUSIAST. embody. Having little time for study even of the truly scientific Anthropology, we ought to study only such as on preliminary view, we find apparently worthy of thor- ough study. I repeat, I find some virtue in Lavater. Who, indeed, can fail to find some virtue in the system of the Swiss enthusiast ? Will any one pretend that there is not one lurking truth in all his system ? Far from so considering, I look upon his system as defective, not be- cause it is ill-founded, but because it is not well erected on a good foundation. In man, then, says Lavater, " each species of life is conspicuous; yet never can his properties be wholly known, except by the aid of his external form, his body, his superficies. How spiritual, how incorporeal soever, his internal essence may be, still is he only visible and conceivable from the harmony of his constituent parts. From these he is inseparable. He exists and moves in the body he inhabits as in his element. This -material man must become the subject of observation. All the know- ledge we can obtain of man1 must be gained through the medium of our senses." And again: " There is no object in nature the properties and powers of which can be man- ifest to us in any other manner than by such external ap- pearances as affect the senses. By these all beings are characterized." I cannot follow the enthusiast, when he proceeds to say that the external appearances which affect the senses, " are the foundations of all human knowledge." But the sen- tences I quote with approbation may be ranked, I think, with principles. It is passing strange, that, having recog- nized them, the enthusiastic Swiss was able to enunciate the propositions most distinctive of what is erroneous in his system. They are truly warnings that we must not (1) Lavater does not here allude to our self-knowledge. Essays on Physiog- nomy, Vol. I, 10. LAVATER ON FREEDOM AND NECESSITY. 323 judge of character too hastily. They warn us that our knowledge of the character of others is not intuitive, but only the result of mere perception, as I have explained perception. They should constantly admonish us to be more careful, when we judge our neighbors. Our preju- dices and antipathies, our sense of beauty, our disgust in contemplating what we regard as deformity; all these are so produced or so affected by the bodily peculiarities of others, as to lead us often into error in our estimates of character. What would delight us, if it were the action or the speech of a certain man, moves us to contempt, or wakens prejudice, or excites anger, or produces nothing but disgust, when done or spoken by another man, whose body is not comely in our sight. Body, however, has, in general, more influence in modi- fying character and influencing conduct than the learned have, at times, seemed willing to concede. The extravagant opinion of Lavater, on the " profound and important question " of freedom and necessity, is, he informs us,m " that man is as free as the bird in the cas-e: he has a determinate space for action and sensation, be- yond which he cannot pass. As each man has a particular circumference of body, so has he likewise a certain sphere of action. One of the unpardonable sins of Helvetius, against reason and experience, is, that he has assigned to education the sole power of forming, or deforming, the mind. I doubt if any philosopher of the present century has imposed any doctrine upon the world so insulting to common sense. Can it be denied, that certain minds, cer- tain frames, are by nature capable, or incapable, of certain sensations, talents and actions?" The extravagance of the proposition, that man's body is his cage is quite apparent. We know better. The action (m) Vol. 1,166. 324 LAVATER AND BUCHANAN. of the body does, indeed, tend to make the mind its priso- ner, and men who never rise above their natures are, in fact, the prisoners of body. But the mind may, in some directions, rise as it were out of the body. Body then be- comes the instrument of mind. And here the particle of truth in Lavater's propositon clearly comes before us. Body is an instrument of limited subjection to the im- proving operations of the mind. Beyond a certain point, the mind cannot improve, or develop, or apply the body. Body thus appears to limit mind; but mind is really lim- ited only by the finity of all things human. It is limited by bodily impossibilities, as it is by its encounter with impossibilities of any kind. Abating thus what is extravagant in the proposition of Lavater just examined, we may admit, that bodily and mental qualities reciprocally influence each other, and that there is, in general, a correspondence between the bodily constitution and the mental character. I have given rea- sons for doubting, whether this correspondence is pre- cisely such as Dr. Buchanan teaches in his "Science" of Sarcognomy. We cannot say with him, that there is a " science of corporeal development, which recog- nizes the indications of mind in the bodily frame, and traces the entire correspondence of the body with the brain and the mind—thus doing for the body what crani- ology has done for the'brain." We cannot take with him a picture of the Greek Slave, and mark upon it, as the craniologist would mark upon the picture of a human head, distinguishing in one portion of the body the indi- cation of Benevolence, and in another that of Fear—here contemplating the region of Disease, and there distinguish- ing the home of Love. But as in what Lavater tells us, we find some truth to separate from the extravagance with which the Swiss enthusiast connected it, we find in the Sarcognomy of Buchanan not extravagance alone, but much suggestive truth. PHYSIOGNOMY AND SARCOGNOMY. 325 It is certainly true, as Lavater tells us, that " each indi- vidual can but what he can, is but what he is." It is not mere extravagance to say, that each individual may arrive at, but cannot11 exceed, a certain degree of perfection, which scourging, even to death itself, cannot make him surpass." And it is true, as Buchanan lays it down, that " the mind is connected with the body, and to a great ex- tent controlled by its conditions."0 I see, indeed, no rea- son to doubt, that the supposed connexion " must exist in a definite manner, and through specific channels," and that " each portion of the brain is connected with a spe- cific portion of the body."p Indeed, as I have intimated in another place, there is in part of the Buchanan system much to waken thought, if not to merit scientific approbation. Some of the con- ceits in the Buchanan lesser system of Sarcognomy are very beautiful. Among them is the thought—I dare not call it by a more scientific appellation—that the proper home of the affections, or, perhaps, their place of special expression in development, is the chest. " The association of the mamma? with the sentiment of love," says our anthropologist, " is very obviously true. They are more developed in woman, in accordance with the fact that love is a more prominent element of her character and life. Their development is connected with the period of the greatest activity of that sentiment—and with the ex- istence of children, upon whom the sentiment concentrates. The whole physiological history of parentage illustrates this matter very forcibly, and the psychological associa- tions are nearly as decisive. Caresses of the female bosom excite irresistibly the amiable emotions, and the sight of the breasts in full development excites the love of man. Loveliness is so essential to our conception of woman, that (n) Lavater, Vol. 1, 166, 167. (o) Anthropology, 359. (p) lb. 326 Buchanan's anthropology. a full development of the breasts is necessary to female beauty and attractiveness."