only that slight and partial influence over the genius, which enabled them to derange its previously acquired habits, without regulating its operations, upon a systematical plan, with steadiness and efficacy. In all the arts of life, whether trifling or important, there is a certain degree of skill, which may be attained by our untutored powers, aided by imitation; and this skill, instead of being perfected by rules, may, by means of them, be diminished or destroyed, if these rules are partially and imperfectly apprehended, or even if they are not so familiarized to the understanding, as to influence its exertions uniformly and habitually. In the case of a musical performer, who has learnt his art merely by the ear, the first effects of systematical instruction are, I believe, always unfavorable. The effect is the same of the rules of elocution, when first communicated to one who has attained, by his natural taste and good sense, a tolerable propriety in the art of reading. But it does not follow from this, that in either of these arts, rules are useless. It only follows, that, in order to unite ease and grace with correctness, and to preserve the felicities of original genius amidst those restraints which may give them an useful direction, it is necessary that the acquisitions of education should, by long and early habits, be rendered, in some measure, a second nature. The same observations will be found to apply, with very slight alterations, to arts of more serious importance.-In the art of legislation, for example, there is a certain degree of skill, which may be acquired merely from the routine of business; and when once a politician has been formed, in this manner, among the details of office, a partial study of general principles will be much more likely to lead him astray, than to enlighten his conduct. But there is nevertheless a science of legislation, which the details of office, and the intrigues of popular assemblies, will never communicate; a science, of which the principles must be sought for in the constitution of human nature, and in the general laws which regulate the course of human affairs; and which, if ever, in consequence of the progress of reason, philosophy should be enabled to assume that ascendant in the government of the world,

which has hitherto been maintained by accident, combined with the passions and caprices of a few leading individuals, may, perhaps, produce more perfect and happy forms of society, than have yet been realized in the history of mankind.

I have thus endeavoured to point out, and illustrate, a few of the most important purposes, to which the philosophy of the human mind is subservient. It will not, however, I flatter myself, be supposed by any of my readers, that I mean to attempt a systematical work on all, or any of the subjects I have now mentioned; the most limited of which would furnish matter for many volumes. What I have aimed at, has been, to give, in the first place, as distinct and complete an analysis as I could, of the principles, both intellectual and active, of our nature; and, in the second place, to illustrate, as I proceed, the application of these general laws of the human constitution, to the different classes of phenomena which result from them. In the selection of these phenomena, although I have sometimes been guided chiefly by the curiosity of the moment, or the accidental course of my own studies, yet, I have had it in view, to vary, as far as possible, the nature of my speculations, in order to show how numerous and different the applications are, of which this philosophy is susceptible. It will not, therefore, I hope, be objected to me, that I have been guilty of a blameable violation of unity in the plan of my work, till it be considered how far such a violation was useful for accomplishing the purposes for which I write. One species of unity, I am willing to believe, an attentive reader will be able to trace in it; I mean, that uniformity of thought and design, 'which," as Butler well remarks, "we may always expect to meet with in the compositions of the same author, when he writes with simplicity, and in earnest."

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ELEMENTS

OF THE

PHILOSOPHY OF THE HUMAN MIND.

CHAPTER FIRST.

OF THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION.

SECTION I.

Of the Theories which have been formed by Philosophers, to explain the Manner in which the MIND perceives External Objects.

AMONG the various phenomena which the human mind presents to our view, there is none more calculated to excite our curiosity and our wonder, than the communication which is carried on between the sentient, thinking, and active principle within us, and the material objects with which we are surrounded. How little soever the bulk of mankind may be disposed to attend to such inquiries, there is scarcely a person to be found, who has not occasionally turned his thoughts to that mysterious influence, which the will possesses over the members of the body, and to those powers of perception, which seem to inform us, by a sort of inspiration, of the various changes which take place in the external universe. Of those who receive the advantages of a liberal education, there are perhaps few, who pass the period of childhood, without feeling their curiosity excited by this incomprehensible communication between mind and matter. For my own part, at least, I cannot recollect the date of my earliest speculations on the subject.

It is to the phenomena of perception alone, that I am to confine myself in the following essay; and even with respect to these, all that I propose is, to offer a few general remarks on such of the common mistakes con

car.

cerning them, as may be most likely to mislead us in our future inquiries. Such of my readers as wish to consider them more in detail, will find ample satisfaction in the writings of Dr. Reid.

In considering the phenomena of perception, it is natural to suppose, that the attention of philosophers would be directed, in the first instance, to the sense of seeing. The variety of information and of enjoyment we receive by it, the rapidity with which this information and enjoyment are conveyed to us, and above all, the intercourse it enables us to maintain with the more distant part of the universe, cannot fail to give it, even in the apprehension of the most careless observer, a pre-eminence over all our other perceptive faculties. the first Hence it is, that the various theories, which have been formed to explain the operations of our senses, have a more immediate reference to that of seeing; and that the greater part of the metaphysical language, concerning perception in general, appears evidently, from its etymology, to have been suggested by the phenomena of vision. Even when applied to this sense, indeed, it can at most amuse the fancy, without conveying any precise knowledge; but, when applied to the other senses, it is altogether absurd and unintelligible.

It would be tedious and useless, to consider particularly the different hypotheses, which have been advanced upon this subject. To all of them, I apprehend, the two following remarks will be found applicable: First, that, in the formation of them, their authors have been influenced by some general maxims of philosophizing, borrowed from physics; and, secondly, that they have been influenced by an indistinct, but deep-rooted, conviction of the immateriality of the soul; which, although not precise enough to point out to them the absurdity of attempting to illustrate its operations by the analogy of matter, was yet sufficiently strong, to induce them to keep the absurdity of their theories as far as possible out of view, by allusions to those physical facts, in which the distinctive properties of matter are the least grossly and palpably exposed to our observation. To the former of these circumstances is to be ascribed the

2

general principle, upon which all the known theories of perception proceed; that, in order to explain the intercourse between the mind and distant objects, it is necessary to suppose the existence of something intermediate, by which its perceptions are produced; to the latter, the various metaphorical expressions of ideas, species, forms, shadows, phantasms, images; which, while they amused the fancy with some remote analogies to the objects of our senses, did not directly revolt our reason, by presenting to us any of the tangible qualities of body.

"It was the doctrine of Aristotle," says Dr. Reid, "that as our senses cannot receive external material objects themselves, they receive their species; that is, their images or forms, without the matter; as wax receives the form of the seal without any of the matter of it. These images or forms, impressed upon the senses, are called sensible species; and are the objects only of the sensitive part of the mind; but by various internal powers, they are retained, refined, and spiritualized, co so as to become objects of memory and imagination; and, at last, of pure intellection. When they are objects of memory and of imagination, they get the name of phantasms. When, by farther refinement, and being stripped of their particularities, they become objects of science, they are called intelligible species; so that every immediate object, whether of sense, of memory, of imagination, or of reasoning, must be some phantasm, or species, in the mind itself.

"The followers of Aristotle, especially the schoolmen, made great additions to this theory; which the author himself mentions very briefly, and with an appearance of reserve. They entered into large disquisitions with regard to the sensible species, what kind of things they are; how they are sent forth by the object, and enter by the organs of the senses; how they are preserved, and refined by various agents, called internal senses, concerning the number and offices of which they had many controversies." *