artillery-man of Val-de-Grace, who exposed his life most recklessly in never-ending duels, presented by Dr. Gaubert to Vimont, the latter found the organ of Conservation not only very narrow, but extremely shallow. The organ," says Mr. Combe, "is probably situated in the base of the brain. The only fact tending to illustrate its position, is one observed by Dr. Andrew Combe, and recorded in the Phrenological Journal, vol. iii. p. 471. În describing the dissection of the brain of a lady upwards of sixty, who for many years had been remarkable for continual anxiety about her own death, he observes, that the enormous developement of one convolution at the base of the middle lobe of the brain, the function of which is unknown, was too striking not to arrest our attention; it was that lying towards the mesial line, on the basilar and inner side of the middle lobe, and consequently of Destructiveness. The corresponding part of the skull showed a very deep and distinctly moulded cavity or bed, running longitudinally, with high and prominent sides, and presenting altogether an appearance much more striking than in any skull I ever saw. From the situation of this convolution, its developement cannot be ascertained during life, and hence its function remains unknown. Whether may have any connection with the Love of Life, is a circumstance which may be determined by future observations: all that we can say at present is, that the Love of Life seems to be a feeling sui generis, and not proportioned to any faculty or combination of faculties yet known; that in the subject of this notice, it was one of the most permanently active which she possessed; and that in her, the convolution alluded to, was of very unusual magnitude.” it We forbear offering any opinion on this subject, until farther light has been thrown upon it, by more careful analysis and more extended observation. SECTION V.-Organ VII. Secretiveness. IMMEDIATELY above the organ of Destructiveness, is situated that of Secretiveness, which extends perhaps slightly farther forward than the former. Like it, the size is to be judged of mainly by its lateral projection outward from, and beyond the ears. It is developed in at least average endowment, if, in a head of 22 or 23 inches, it measure by the callipers six inches. Although metaphysicians, in order to fit the human mind to their theories, and to reduce its elements to a so-called philosophical simplicity, which was not to be found in nature, have denied the existence of a primitive propensity to cunning, the men of the world, and the poets, who are the real metaphysicians, and the true and accurate observers of mankind, had long been familiar with an inherent principle of this description. Indeed, there is nothing that on the face of society strikes us as more remarkable, than the extreme difference of character in this respect. Of some men it may be said, that their minds, as well as their hearts, are always at their mouths. They conceal nothing, they suppress nothing, they think aloud, their mind is seen, as watchmakers exhibit the works of a clock, through a glass-case. They may be said to be transparent. There is not a dark, or even a shaded corner in their whole being. Of these, it is currently phrased, that when you see them once, you see them altogether. They are remarkable for simplicity of character, especially if they add considerable Wonder to their deficient Secretiveness. They can see nothing in what is done, except what is apparent on the surface of it. They take it for granted, that others mean what they say; they do not understand, or infer the existence of even a shade of thought beyond wha e words spoken ordinarily express. They are literal, unsuspecting unguarded Their mind seems to proceed upon a sort of Hamiltonian principle, that never thinks of a free translation of other men's actions or language. They are blind to rything but the obvious and the palpable, and are deficient in what is called voir faire, or tact. You may speak at them for an age, without their comprehending you. You may hint, but hints are not made for such men. You may insinuate, but they neither hear nor see anything except the plain and obvious appearance of things. Such persons have no more idea of finesse, policy, diplomacy, intrigue, than if these words were not representatives of most important thoughts. The reverse of this picture is a great deal more common in British, particularly in Scottish society. In the national head, the organ of Secretiveness is generally large. "The nature and objects of this propensity," observes Mr. Combe, "appear to be the following:-The various faculties of the human mind are liable to involuntary activity, from internal causes, as well as from external excitement. Thus, Amativeness becoming active, gives feelings corresponding to its nature. Acquisitiveness inspires with strong desires for wealth; and Love of Approbation fills the mind with projects of ambition. Every one will be conscious, that these, or similar feelings, at times rush into his mind involuntarily, and frequently refuse to depart at the command of the understanding. If outward expression were given to these impulses, in all their vivacity, as they arise, social intercourse would be disfigured by a rude assemblage of disgusting improprieties, and man would shun the society of his fellows, as more loathsome than pestilence or famine.” "Some instinctive tendency, therefore, to restrain within the mind itself, to conceal, as it were, from the public eye, the various desires and emotions which involuntarily present themselves in the mind, was necessary, to enable the understanding to regulate their outward expression; and nature appears to have provided this power in the faculty of Secretiveness. It is an instinctive tendency to conceal, and the legitimate object of it appears to be, to restrain the outward expression of our thoughts and emotions, till the understanding shall have pronounced judgment on their propriety." From such an hypothesis, it is not difficult to trace the part that this organ must play in all the tricks of genius. The dramatist or actor who would describe or personate lago, must for the time dismiss all the opposing emotions or sentiments that check the free current of a consistent and unscrupulous villany, and must give scope to the play solely of the worst affections of the heart. He who would enact Coriolanus, must cashier for the time a Cautiousness that in his real character is perhaps predominating, a Love of Approbation that is perhaps fed by the very applause elicited by the skill with which it is concealed, a Benevolence which is mayhap universally diffusive; and he must give free scope to a Self-Esteem that swells him to the self-conception of a demi-god-Destructiveness and Combativeness, which pant for the quenching of an unfleshed sword in Volscian carcasses-an unbending dignity, and uncompromising and unflattering independence that for ever feels but this, "I, by myself, alone!" The poet also must suppress all every-day thoughts, all commonplace details, all feelings that plead to keep him from the emotions or passions which constitute the peculiar mood in which he should be when the fit is on him. Imitation is no doubt necessary, to enable the actor, or poet, or painter, to conceive of, or outwardly to indicate the expression, form, palpability, and natural language of his emotions; but unless he possess large and powerful Secretiveness, he will exhibit no individuality, intensity, or sincerity of passion, which can only be manifested where all counter feelings are suppressed, and those only required for the occasion evoked in all their strength. The possession of a principle which desires concealment, and gives a power to suppress the manifestation of emotions-which enables and prompts us to seem what we are not-which makes us hide what we do feel, and affect what we do notwhich keeps under, almost against ourselves, the true sensations of the heart, and places others in their room; all this naturally leads the individual to the instinctive conviction, that in every man there is something that is not apparent that the surface never exhibits the true nature of any object-that no man lays open his heart and its workings-that with everything that is said there is a reservation-that in every object in nature there is a hidden principle, which the outside or first presentation does not discover. Such a sense, so deep a conviction, gives the continued habit of suspicion the constant tendency to detect the true principles of every object, to find out what is suppressed, to divine what is concealed, to discover what the surface blisters over. The use of such an organ is to be found in its application of a universal scepticism of the superficies of all things. It prompts the chemist to the discovery of hidden principles in the properties of bodies-it suggests to the zoologist the watching of the habits of animals-it gives to the natural philosopher, as it gave to Newton,* the disposition to penetrate the ultimate principles of physics, * Newton took nothing for granted, and admitted nothing to be merely as it appeared. He doubted, and questioned, and suspected his way into results no less marvellous than true. His madness took the turn of Secretiveness and Self-Esteem, giving rise to most unreasonable, but deep suspicion of all his best friends, particularly Locke. He conjectured plots, and suspected the professions of everybody. and incites the moralist to probe the inmost workings of the human heart. Its effects upon ordinary character are never-ceasing, giving to the hypocrite the power of overmastering the severest scrutiny, and, to most men, the capacity of presenting a front of a totally different nature from their true sentiment. From this inherent desire to conceal, necessarily proceeds a power to dissemble, which, misdirected, includes a tendency to insincerity, deceit, lying, swindling, fraud, and imposture. But in the hands of an honest man, it produces the capacity of outwitting a rogue, of penetrating into all his tricks-of countermining deceit-of diving into the very heart of every person he meets in social intercourse; and, as if by intuition, separating the fair, downright, and candid, from the insincere, dishonest, and traitorous. Some persons have the power instinctively of detecting the natural language of hypocrisy. They fix their opinion of the character of individuals, and are never deceived. They can give no tangible reason for their dislike, but they for ever keep their eye upon the object of their suspicion. "Non amo te Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare Hoc tantum possum dicere, non amo te."* They are always successful in discovering that the dislike is well founded. Their mind misgives them, and it misgives truly. Such persons have in their constitution a natural talent for diplomacy. It was this that enabled the unpractised Franklin to over-reach the most wily ambassadors of Europe. In his bust, the organ is largely developed. Generals who are fond of stratagems, demonstrations, feints, pretended retreats, concealment of real strength, a show of front where there are almost no troops, ambuscades, pitfalls, &c. possess Secretiveness largely developed. The American Indian skull presents the same appearance as does that of King Robert Bruce; and it is certain, that neither the savages nor the king, ever did that by force which could be accomplished by stratagem. The organ is large in Napoleon, Wellington, and Nelson, who were singular for their penetration into the designs of others. It is essential to the lawyer in the examination of witnesses, and in feeling the pulse of the court or jury. Indeed, we feel convinced that the triumphs of the barrister who gains his reputation by jury causes, are to be attributed to a very great developement of Secretiveness. We have verified the soundness of this principle by actual experiment. In those who are distinguished for exquisite tact in drawing out a witness, Secretiveness is always large. It is very necessary to the expert thief or pickpocket, producing both the faculty of concealment and the instinct of cunning. Of all the skulls of persons of this character, in the various phrenological collections, there is not one in which the organ is not considerable; and in Patch, who murdered his master, with so many circumstances of successful hypocrisy-in M. Gottfreide, who poisoned so many persons, and maintained at the same time so good a character-and, in general, in all poisoners and assassins, it is enormously large. No man can be a good police-magistrate, or Bow-street officer, who does not possess it almost in excess. In authorship, a large endowment of this organ is indispensable. In the working up of descriptions, it enables a writer to detect and exhibit all the lurking phenomena necessary to complete the striking features of the subject. Not only to the dramatist, but to the sketcher of character, its action is so essential, that it may be said to be the principal source of his ability. Few men have made so many profound, original, and acute observations upon human character as Pope; and, accordingly, it is seen that he took so great delight in artifice, that it was said he could not take tea without a stratagem, and played the politician about cabbages and turnips. Addison and Cowper possessed equally great knowledge of character, combined with great piety; and such was their mauvaise honte, the joint effect of large Secretiveness and Veneration, that they were each presented with the same appointment, and had to give it up because it compelled them to appear as clerks to the House of Lords. In the skilful management of plots, for which Fielding is so particularly remarkable, this organ is the chief ingredient. Mr. Combe conceives that Secretiveness makes the style of an author obscure, involved, and parenthetical, and attributes the clearness of Goldsmith's manner of *I do not like thee, Doctor Fell! R diction, to a want of this faculty; but we cannot see the force of this inference, either reasoning from facts, or a priori. No one will dispute the truth of the following passage of Shakspeare: If this organ be combined with large Combativeness, Firmness, and Self-Esteem, the style of an author, will, in fact, be remarkable for clearness, terseness, and abruptness. Swift, whose style is the clearest and least involved of that of any English writer, was principally remarkable for enormous Secretiveness; and Goldsmith could not have written the Good Natured Man, She Stoops to Conquer, and especially the Vicar of Wakefield, without a very large endowment of this organ. He certainly was not indifferently gifted with the power which led to the conception of intricate plots, and of the tricks and turnings of swindlers and impostors.* Secretiveness is a main element in the character of a sheepish, bashful fellow, or a "cuif" or "blate" person, as he is termed in Scotland. Along with considerable Amativeness and Love of Approbation, it also produces female modesty. Even when combined with Benevolence, the organ makes the contributions to charitable purposes anonymous. Blushing seems to be an intense desire for concealment of the feelings, and for avoiding prominency in society. To attract attention, is to have the eyes of all turned upon our looks, motions, sensations; and such attention produces a danger of discovery of the real thoughts of the individual. A person possessed of large Secretiveness, entertains, of course, upon such an occasion a dread of detection, and the exertion of suppressing his actual emotions, brings the blood into the ace. Two patients who had been confined for many years in the Asylum at Marseilles, demanded their liberty, and were indeed to all appearance perfectly restored. Foderé, however, tried them on the subjects which had deranged them, and immediately their eyes sparkled, their muscles contracted, and an evident agitation took place, with a strong effort to preserve calmness. Here the naked function of the organ to conceal the outward expression of the feelings, was beautifully illustrated. Pinel, Marshall, Hunter, Andral, Beck, and other writers adduce numerous examples of this. The involuntary action of the organ is well shown in the following passage of Jonathan Wild: "The two friends sat down to cards, a circumstance which I should not have mentioned, but for the sake of observing the prodigious force of habit; for though the Count knew if he won ever so much of Mr. Wild he should not receive a shilling, yet could he not refrain from packing the cards; nor could Wild keep his hands out of his friend's pockets, though he knew there was nothing in them." Probably professors of slight-of-hand are led to their peculiar mode of exercising Constructiveness by large Secretiveness. Among the lower animals this organ is very powerful. The dog hides everything, food, money, &c. So does the magpie and jackdaw. The cat cannot go across the street except by stealth, circuitously. She sits at a rat's hole, pretending to be profoundly asleep, while her downcast eye is only opened a mere hair's-breadth; and she sees the prey for which she has watched so long, coming to her claws, without moving a muscle or uttering the slightest sound. *We may be excused for here-perhaps not very relevantly-adding our humble tribute of praise to the genius and character of Goldsmith, a man whom we venerate only on this side of idolatry. Mr. Prior has had the merit of giving to the world, in his life of this author, a portrait of the nearest practical resemblance to the Christian character which the annals of humanity can boast. How infinitely does "poor Goldy" rise in dignity and true greatness above Johnson, and all his venal crew! Little wonder, indeed, that a perfectly benevolent and just man should in such an age be called an "inspired idiot;" a name which the world will never cease to bestow upon all the sincere, and fearless, and humble followers of Jesus Christ. In the diagram of a skull of a very dexterous thief, copied from a sketch of Vimont, here given, the organ is well defined, with large Destructiveness: This one to be done SECTION VI.-Organ VIII. Acquisitiveness. ABOVE, and somewhat forward of Secretiveness, is situated the organ of Acquisitiveness. Immediately below it is Alimentiveness; and it is behind the temples and the propensity of Constructiveness. When small, as in Eustache, whose profile is given in a subsequent part of this work, the side of the head at that place is flat, and often even sunken. When large, as in the skull represented in the last section, the head swells out laterally to a considerable extent. Dr. Gall termed this organ that of Theft; and Spurzheim, upon the suggestion of Sir George Mackenzie, altered the definition of its function to that of Acquisitiveness. Vimont protests against this description of the elementary principle of the desire, and styles it, for various reasons which he assigns, the desire of possessing, or the love of what may be called proprietorship. The metaphysicians observed the existence of avarice, and pronounced it to be a peculiar modification of the love of power. Now, it cannot be too often repeated, that none of those necessaries which an animal requires, are ever left to reason or the mere perception of utility. The substructure and basis of humanity is animalism. Man lives before he thinks; he eats before he reasons; he is social before he is civilised; loves even against reason; and becomes a Nimrod long before he is a Nestor. Had man not been an animal before he became rational, he would not have existed at all. Reason is evidently the last care of nature. She first secures existence, and then finds leisure to think. She begins by endowing man with the faculties necessary to enable him to provide for himself, before she ventures to animate him with the sentiments which dictate to him to look abroad for the help of others; and she bids him provide for others, before she allows to him that high advance in reason which gives him leisure to indulge in the mere exercise of intellect. She has not formed him totally different from other animals, but rather added in his brain new organs. She has not, in his case, pulled down the fabric of sentient being, and reconstructed it upon a totally different plan. All that she has done, has been to add to the original edifice Corinthian capitals and Doric columns, bestowing reason, not to supersede, but to guide, direct, and perfect his animal nature. We may rest assured, therefore, that whatever principles in the shape of instinct are given to animals for their preservation and protection, are also instincts in man; and that what in them is a propensity or desire, is not in him anything else. We know that the bee, the beaver, the fox, the dog, many quadrupeds, and many birds, possess an instinct for storing and preserving. When we find that man hoards, collects, possesses, we are bound to conclude that he does so not by a habit, or as the deduction of reason, but by an antecedent instinct also. Were he never to husband until by experience he discovered that some seasons were barren and unproductive, he would only find out his error when starvation made the discovery come too late. He must possess a passion for storing, otherwise nature would sometimes be lavish in vain, and the provision whereby she made food capable of being preserved without spoiling or rotting, would be useless. To say that avarice is a modification of the love of power-possessions being regarded as a means to this end-is to contend that the miser reasons upon the subject of his |