Thepreceding pages have exhibited the nature of mind, the object of its formation, the right mode of action to secure this object, and the causes and results of its right and wrong action, as indicated by reason and experience.
We are now furnished with farther data to guide us in regard to the character of our Creator, as we seek it by the light of reason alone.
We have seen, in the chapter on intuitive truths, that by the first of these principles we arrive at the knowledge of someeternal First Cause of all finite things.
By another of these principles we deduce certain particulars in regard to his character as exhibited through his works. This principle is thus expressed: "Design is evidence of an intelligent cause, and the nature of a design proves the character and intention of the author." We are now prepared to show how much must be included in this truth.
Our only idea of "an intelligent cause" is that ofa mind like our own. This being so, we assume that we are instructed, by the very constitution of our own minds, that our Creator is a being endowed with intellect, susceptibilities, and will, and a part of these susceptibilities are those included in ourmoral constitution.
This moral nature, which we are thus led to ascribe to our Creator, includes, in the first place, the existence of a feeling that whatever lessens or destroys happiness is unfitted to the system of the universe, and thatvoluntary sacrifice and suffering to purchase the highest possible happiness is fitted to or in accordance with the eternal nature of things.
Next, we are thus taught that in the Eternal Mind is existing thatsense of justicewhich involves the desire of good to the author of good, and of evil to the author of evil, which requires that such retributions beproportionedto the good and evil done, and to thevoluntarypower of the agent.
Lastly, we are thus instructed that the Author of all created things possesses that susceptibility calledconscience, which includes, in the very constitution of mind itself, retributions for right and wrong actions.
But while we thus assume that the mind of the Creator is, so far as we can conceive, precisely like our own in constitutional organization, we are as necessarily led to perceive that theextentof these powers is far beyond our own. A mind with the power, wisdom, and goodness exhibited in the very small portion of his works submitted to our inspection, who has inhabited eternity, and developed and matured through everlasting ages—our minds are lost in attempting any conception of the extent of such infinite faculties!
But we have another intuitive truth to aid in our deductions. It is that by which we infer the continuance of auniformity in our experience; that is, we necessarily believe that "things will continue as they are and have been, unless there is evidence to the contrary."Now all past experience as to the nature of mind has been uniform. Every mind known to us is endowed with intellect, susceptibility, and will, like our own. So much is this the case, that when any of these are wanting in a human being, we say he has "lost his mind."
Again: all our experience of mind involves the idea of themutual relation of minds. We perceive that minds are made to match to other minds, so that there can be no complete action of mind, according to its manifest design, except in relation to other beings. A mind can not love till there is another mind to call forth such emotion. A mind can not bring a tithe of its power into appropriate action except in a community of minds. The conception of a solitary being, with all the social powers and sympathies of the human mind infinitely enlarged, and yet without any sympathizing mind to match and meet them, involves the highest idea of unfitness and imperfection conceivable.
Thus it is that past experience of the nature of mind leads to the inference that no mind has existed from all eternityin solitude, but that there ismore than one eternal, uncreated mind, and that all their powers of enjoyment from giving and receiving happiness in social relations have been in exercise from eternal ages. This is the just and natural deduction of reason and experience, as truly as the deduction that there is at least one eternal First Cause.
It has been argued that theunity of designin the works of nature proves that there is but one creating mind. This is not so, for in all our experience of thecreations of finite beings nogreat designwas ever formed without a combination of minds, both to plan and to execute. The majority of minds in all ages, both heathen and Christian, have always conceived of the Creator asin some wayexisting so as to involve the ideas of plurality and of the love and communion of one mind with another.
Without a revelation, also, we have the means of arriving at the conclusion that the Creator of all things is not only a mind organized just like our own, but that he always has and always will feel and act right. We infer this from both his social and his moral constitution; for he must, as our own minds do, desire the love, reverence, and confidence of his creatures. The fact that he has made them to love truth, justice, benevolence, and self-sacrificing virtue is evidence that he has and will exhibit these and all other excellences that call forth affection.
But we have still stronger evidence. We have seen all the causes that experience has taught as the leading to the wrong action of mind. These are necessarily excluded from our conceptions of the Creator. The Eternal Mind can not err for want of knowledge, nor for want of habits of right action, nor for want of teachers and educators, nor for want of those social influences which generate and sustain a right governing purpose; for an infinite mind, that never had a beginning, can not have these modes of experience which appertain to new-born and finite creatures.
Again: we have seen that it is one of the implanted principles of reason that "no rational mind will choose evil without hope of compensating good." Such isthe eternal system of the universe, as we learn it by the light of reason, that the highest possible happiness to each individual mind and to the whole commonwealth is promoted by the right action of every mind in that system. This, of necessity, is seen and felt by the All-creating and Eternal Mind, and to suppose that, with this knowledge, he would ever choose wrong is to suppose that he would choose pure evil, and this is contrary to an intuitive truth. It is to suppose the Creator would do what he has formed our minds to believe to be impossible inanyrational mind. It is to suppose that the Creator would do that which, if done by human beings, marks them as insane.
Weare now prepared to inquire in regard to what constitutesa perfect mind. This question relates, in the first place, to the perfect constitutional organization of mind, and, in the next place, to the perfect action of mind.
In regard to a finite mind, when we inquire as to its perfection in organization, we are necessarily restricted to the question of the object or end for which it is made. Any contrivance in mind or matter is perfect when it is so formed that,if worked according to its design, it completely fulfills the end for which it is made, so that there is no way in which it could be improved.
It is here claimed, then, that by the light of reason alone we first gain the object for which mind is made, and then arrive at the conclusion that the mind of man is perfect in construction, because, if worked according to its design, it would completely fulfill the end for which it is made, so that there is no conceivable way in which it could be improved. This position can not be controverted except by presenting evidence that some other organization of the mind would produce, in an eternal and infinite system, more good with less evil than the present one.
In regard to the Eternal Mind, the only standard of perfection in organization that we can conceive of isrevealed in our own mind. Every thing in our own minds—every thing around us—every thing we have known in past experience, is designed to produce the most possible happiness with the least possible evil. We can not conceive of any being as wise, or just, or good, but as he acts to promote that end.
A mind organized like our own, with faculties infinitely enlarged, who always has and always will sustain a controlling purpose to act right, is the only idea we can have of an all-perfect Creator.
But on the subject of the perfect action of finite minds it is perceived that reference must always be had tovoluntary powerand its limitations. We have shown that the implanted susceptibility, called thesense of justice, demands that the rewards and penalties for good and evil have reference tothe knowledge and powerof a voluntary agent; that is to say, it is contrary to our moral nature voluntarily to inflict penalties for wrong action on a being who either has no power to know what right is, or no power to do it. We revolt from such inflictions with instinctive abhorrence, as unfit and contrary to the design of all things.
So, in forming our judgment of the Creator, when we regard him as perfectly just, the idea implies that he will nevervoluntarilyinflict evil for wrong action on beings who have not the knowledge or power to act right.
Here we are again forced to the assumption of someeternal nature of thingsindependent of the Creator's will, by which ignorant and helpless creatures are exposed to suffering from wrong action when they have no power ofanykind to act right.
For we see such suffering actually does exist, and there are but two suppositions possible. The one is, that it results from the Creator'svoluntaryacts, and the other, that it is inherent in that eternal nature of things which the Creator can no more alter than he can destroy his own necessary and eternal existence.
In judging of the perfect action of finite minds, we are obliged to regard the question in two relations. In the primary relation we have reference to actions which, in all the infinite relations of a vast and eternal system of free agents, are fitted to secure the most possible good with the least possible evil. In this relation, so far as we can judge by experience and reason, no finite being ever did or ever canact perfectlyfrom the first to the last of its volitions. In this relation, every human being is certainly, necessarily, and inevitably imperfect in action.
But when the question of perfection in action simply has reference to the knowledge and power of the voluntary agent, we come to another result. In this relation, any mind acts perfectlywhen it forms a ruling purpose to feel and act right in all things, when it takes all possible means of learning what is right, and when it actually carries out this purpose, so far as it has knowledge and power.
If a human mind is, as has been shown, perfect in that organization of its powers for which the Creator is responsible, and then forms and carries out such a ruling purpose, it is, so far as we can learn without revelation, as perfect in action as is possible in the nature of things; that is to say, it voluntarily acts to promote the greatest possible good with the least possibleevil as entirely as is possible, and as really as does the Creator, who himself is limited by the nature of things.
It is as impossible for a finite mind to act right, when it does not know what right is, as it is for the Eternal Mind to make and sustain a system in which there has been and never will be any wrong action to cause pain to himself and to other minds.
What, then, so far as we can learn without a revelation, is a perfect mind in such a system of things as we find in this world? It is a mind constituted like our own, which has formed a ruling purpose to feel and act right in all things, which takes all possible means in its reach to learn what is right, and which actually carries out this purpose to the extent of its power.
In shorter terms, in this relation every human mind is perfect, both in constitution and in action, so long as it acts as near right as is in its present power. At the same time, in relation to the infinite and eternal standard of rectitude, its action may be very imperfect.
We next inquire as to theevidenceof a perfect mind in this secondary relation; that is to say, how can we know when a mind does reach the full measure of its power in voluntary right action?
In regard to this we have two sources of evidence: first, the mental consciousness of the acting mind itself, and, next, the results of its action. In regard to the first, every mind, in reference either to its mental states or external deeds, can have as much certainty as to the extent of its power as it can of any thing. If wechooseto feel in a given way, or to perform a given act, and what we choose does not follow, weare certain we have no power to do the thing. All the idea ofpowerwe have is that volition is followed by the result chosen. All the idea we have ofwant of poweris that the result chosen does not follow the volition.
Every mind, then, in regard toevery specific volition, has the most perfect of all evidence as to the extent of its powers in its own experience.
But the question is a more difficult one in reference to ageneric governing volition. A perfectly acting mind, according to our definition, is one that has formed a generic governing volition tofeel and act rightin all respects; that is, it decides that the chief end of existence shall be to promote the greatest possible happiness with the least possible evil, in obedience to all, physical, social, and moral laws of the Creator, so far as it is within the reach of its powers.
Now, as to this simple act of choice, a mind can have the highest possible evidence in its own consciousness. The only question of difficulty would be as tothe extentof its powers to carry out this decision, and the correspondence of all its subordinate volitions with this generic purpose.
To ascertain the truth on this point, let us suppose a mind that has the highest evidence (that of internal consciousness) that it has formed such a purpose. Then comes a case where a subordinate decision is to be made—say it relates to the existence of a certainfeelingoremotion, such as love, fear, gratitude, or sorrow. It has been shown that these emotions are not to be evoked into existence by a simple act of will. The mode by which the mind controls its own desires andemotions is set forth on page 162. If, then, the person chooses to doall that is in its power at the given timeto awaken these emotions, its action isperfectin this respect: it has fulfilled the measure of its power. It reaches the limit of its power when it can find nothing more that anact of choicewill secure that it perceives will tend to accomplish the end chosen. That is to say, at each given moment, when a mind is aiming to know what is right, and to do it, if it has done all it perceives can be done by any act of will toward this end, then its decision or mental action isperfect; it is as good as is possible in the nature of things.
We have the same method of testing our power in regard to thepreventionof desires and emotions. No matter how painful or inappropriate may be the desires and emotions of any mind, it is actingperfectlywhen it goes to the full extent of its power to extinguish or to control them according to the rules of rectitude. If it wills to have them otherwise, and uses the appropriate modes to have them so, this is all it has power to do.
In reference toexternal actions, there are an infinite variety of circumstances that must decide the character of actions as right or wrong. An action which is wise and benevolent in one set of circumstances becomes foolish and selfish in another combination. More than half the questions of right and wrong action are to be decided as to their character by the surrounding circumstances, while no mind but the one that is infinite and omniscient can pronounce with certainty on actions whose character is dependent on circumstances and probable future results.
What, then, is the limitation of power in these cases? How can we know when we act as nearly right as it is in our power?
In the first place, we can have the high evidence of consciousness that our chief end in life isto act rightin all things. In the next place, we can know certainly whether there is any thing more that we can do to find out what the right course is. When we have decided that we have done all we can in the given circumstances, and then are conscious that we choosewhat we believe to be right, orthat which has to our mind the balance of evidence in its favor as right, we act perfectly; that is to say, we have reached the full measure of our power in voluntarily acting right.
But, besides this evidence, that rests mainly on internal consciousness of the nature of our volitions, we have other evidence to guide us. It has been shown in the previous pages how our thoughts, and desires, and emotions are all dependent on the generic purposes of the mind. Whatever is thechief endof life is the object which excites the strongest interest and calls forth the deepest emotions. Therefore, when a mind has chosento act rightas the chief end, all its tastes, desires, and emotions become conformed to this purpose. Whatever is seen as tending to promote this end is more desired and valued than any thing else. Whatever is seen to interfere with this is regarded with dissatisfaction.
This being so, a mind that is controlled by a ruling purpose to act right finds those persons and places the most congenial and agreeable who can lend the most aid in pointing out all that is wrong in thought, word,or deed, and in helping, by instruction, sympathy, and example, to do right. One great test, then, of the existence and strength of such a ruling purpose is the manner in which those are regarded who are most interested in finding out and doing what is right themselves, and in aiding others to do so.
To be "meek and lowly in heart," so as to seek help in learning what is right from every source, however humble or however imperfectly offered, is the surest indication that a mind is under the entire control of a ruling purpose to do right, and is thusa perfect mind.
Such a mind, it must be seen, hastendenciesthatfitit to that great system of things in which we find ourselves. Such a mind can not trace out these tendencies by the light of reason alone without a conviction thatsomewherein the progress of ages it will attain to aperfect commonwealth, where the great end and object of the Creator in forming mind will be carried to entire perfection in each individual mind and in the all-perfect whole!
Wehave considered the mode by which, without revelation, we arrive at a knowledge of the existence and character of one eternal, self-existent Creator, and of othereternal beingsendowed with all the attributes of the human mind.
We will next inquire as to the existence of other created minds in addition to those whose existence is manifested by a material body. There are several principles of reason to aid us in this inquiry. The first is that which establishes the existence of mind and matter as two distinct and diverse causes or existences. By this we decide that every human being has a body and a soul.
The second principle of reason to guide us is that which teaches us to believe that things continue to exist as they are and have been, unless there is some known cause to destroy or change them.
The other principles to guide us are, that nothing is to be assumed to be true unless there is some evidence that it is so, and, in case of conflicting evidence, thebalanceof evidence is to decide what is right and true.
These principles being assumed, we find that at the death of every human being we have evidence, first, that the body ceases to be connected with the spirit, and is dissolved.
Next, we have evidence at the period of this dissolving of soul and body that the soul exists without a body, and no evidence that it is changed in any of its powers, or habits, or character.
Thus we arrive at the conclusion that the spirits that have existed in this life connected with bodies are still existing with all the powers, habits, and character which they possessed in this life, except as they are modified by causes and tendencies that experience in this life has disclosed. We thus infer that all minds who have left this world have continued in the upward or downward tendencies of character which existed when they were disconnected with the body.
This is all the knowledge we can gain by reason and experience alone in reference to other created beings, and their character and mode of existence.
As tothe time when the soul commences existence, we have no evidence of such existence except what is manifested in the body. We can only infer, then, that the soul begins to exist when the evidence of its existence commences in the body. To assert that it begins before that time is to violate the principle of reason which forbids us to assume any thing to be true unless there is evidence of it.
Thus, without a revelation, we are led to a belief in the existence of two classes of disembodied spirits, the good and the bad. But we have no evidence of the existence of any other created minds except those that have formerly been connected with bodies in this world.
So far as animals give evidence of possessing an independent spiritual existence, the same argument that proves the continued existence of the human mind afterdeath, proves that the animal spirit, if there be one, continues after the dissolution of the body.
But we can not reason in regard to animals as we can in regard to human minds, for we never had theexperienceof animal existence to commence with, as we have our own experience in reasoning as to the nature and experience of mind in reference to other beings of the same race.
Wehave now completed our investigations as to the nature and amount of knowledge to be gained on the great questions of life by reason and experience independently of a revelation.
We have assumed that the great cause of the disordered action of mind is that it commences action in perfect ignorance, while all those causes which experience shows to be indispensable to its right action, to a greater or less degree, are wanting.
The great want of our race isperfect educatorsto train new-born minds, who areinfallible teachers of what is right and true.
We have presented the evidence gained by reason and experience that the Creator is perfect in mental constitution, and that he always has acted right, and always will thus act. This being granted, we infer that he always has donethe best that is possiblefor the highest good of his creatures in this world, and that he always will continue to do so.
We proceed to inquire in regard to what would be the best that it is possible to do for us in this state of being,so far as we can conceive.
Inasmuch as the great cause of the wrong action of mind is the ignorance and imperfection of those who are its educators in the beginning of its existence, weshould infer that the best possible thing to be done for our race would be to provide someperfect and infallible teacherto instruct those who are to educate mind. This being granted, then all would concede that the Creator himself would be our best teacher, and that, if he would come to us himself in a visible form to instruct the educators of mind in all they need to know for themselves and for the new-born minds committed to their care, it would be the best thing we can conceive of for the highest good of our race.
We next inquire as to the best conceivable mode by which the Creator can manifest himself so as to secure credence.
To decide this, let each one suppose the case his own. Let a man make his appearance claiming to be the Creator. We can perceive that his mere word would never command the confidence of intelligent practical men. Thousands of impostors have appeared and made such claims, deceiving the weak and ignorant and disgusting the wise.
In case the person with such claims proved to be ever so benevolent and intelligent, if we had no other evidence than his word, it would, by sensible persons, be regarded as the result of some mental hallucination.
But suppose that a person making claims to be the Creator of all things, or to be a messenger from him, should attest his claim by shaking the earth, or tearing up a mountain, or turning back the floods of the ocean, it would be impossible for any man to witness these miracles without believing that the Author of all things thus attested his own presence or the authority of his messenger. We have shown that, inthe very organization of mind, one of the intuitive truths would necessarily force such a belief on all sane minds.
One other method would be as effective. Should this person predict events so improbable and so beyond all human intelligence as to be equivalent to an equal interruption of experience as to the laws of mind, as time developed the fulfillment of these predictions, the same belief would be induced in the authority of the person thus supernaturally endowed.
In the first case, the evidence would be immediate and most powerful in its inception. In the latter case, the power of the evidence would increase with time.
Miracles and prophecy, then, are theonlymethods that we can conceive of that would, as our minds are now constituted, insure belief in revelations from the Creator.
But if every human being, in order to believe, must have miracles, there would result such an incessant violation of the laws of nature as to destroy them, and thus to destroy all possibility of miracles.
The only possible way, then, is to have miracles occur at certain periods of time, and then have them adequately recorded and preserved.
This method involves the necessity of interpreting written documents. If, then, the Creator has provided such revelations, the question occurs as to how far they may be accessible to all men. Are there revelations from the Creator in such a form that all men can gain access to them and interpret them for themselves, or are they so recorded that only a few can gain theknowledge they impart, while the many are helplessly dependent on the few?
It is with reference to this question that the interpretation of language becomes a subject of vital and infinite interest to every human being. This subject will therefore occupy the remaining portion of this volume.
Themind of man is confined in its operations by the material system it inhabits, and has no modes of communicating with other minds except through the medium of the eye and ear. It is by signs addressed to the eye and by sounds affecting the ear that ideas are communicated and received.
It is by the power ofassociation, which enables us to recall certain ideas together which have been frequently united, that the use of language is gained. The infant finds certain states of mind produced by material objects invariably connected with certain sounds. This is done so often that whenever a certain perception occurs, the sound recurs which has been so often united with it.
If language is correctly defined as "any sound or sign which conveys the ideas of one mind to another," it is probable that children learn language at a much earlier period than is generally imagined. It is impossible to know how soon the infant notices the soft tones of its own voice when happy, or the moaning or shrill sound that expresses its own pain, and by comparing them with those of its mother, learns, through its little process of reasoning, that another spirit has emotions of pleasure and pain corresponding with its own. Nor can we determine how soon these pleasantsounds of the mother's voice begin to be associated with the benignant smile, or the tones of grief with the sorrowful expression, or the tones of anger with the frowning brow.
It seems very rational to suppose thatsound, to the infant mind, is what first leads to the belief of the emotions of another mind, by means of a comparison of its own sounds with those originating from another. After this is done, the eye comes in for a share in these offices. The little reasoner, after thousands of experiments, finds the pleasant sound always united with the smiling face, until the object of vision becomes the sign for recalling the idea at first obtained by sound. In gaining the common use of language, we know this is the order of succession. We first learn thesoundsthat recall ideas, and then, by means of a frequent union of these sounds with somevisible sign, the power once possessed simply by the sound is conveyed to the sign. Thus we have words that are sounds and words that are visible signs.
The communion of one spirit with that of others in every-day life is maintained ordinarily through the medium ofsounds; but when distance intervenes, or when some record is to be preserved of the thoughts and feelings of other beings, then signs addressed to the eye are employed. In civilized nations, the signs used are a certain number of arbitrary marks, which are arranged in a great variety of combinations, and each combination is employed to recall some particular idea or combination of ideas. These arbitrary signs are called letters, and in the English language there are only twenty-six; yet, by the almost infinitevariety of combination of which these are capable, every idea which one mind wishes to communicate to another can be expressed.
Awritten wordis a single letter or a combination of letters used as a sign to recall one or more ideas. It is considered by the mind as a unit or whole thing, of which the letters are considered as parts, and is shown to be a unit by intervals or blank spaces that separate it from the other words of a sentence. The fact that it is considered by the mind asa unit, or a sign separate from all other combinations of letters, is the peculiarity which constitutes it aword. Asyllableis a combination of letters which is not considered as a unit, but is considered as apartof a word.
Words are used to recall the ideas ofthings,qualities,changes, andcircumstances. Some words recall the idea of a thing without any other idea connected with it; such are the wordsmind,ivory. Some words recall the idea of quality simply, such asred,hard,sweet. Some words recall the ideas of change merely, such asmotion,action. Some words recall simply the idea of relation or circumstance, such ason,under,about. Sometimes ideas of things, and their actions and relations, are recalled by the same sign; thuswrestlerrecalls the idea of a thing and its action, andgiantof a thing and itsrelation. Some words recall a variety of ideas; thus the termbegonerecalls the idea of two things, of the desire of a mind and of its mode of expression.
In the process of learning language, mankind first acquire names for the several things, qualities, changes, and circumstances that they notice, and afterward learnthe process ofcombiningthese names, so as to convey the mental combination of one mind to another. A person might have names for all his ideas, and yet, if he had never learned the art of properly combining these signs, he never could communicate the varied conceptions of his own mind to another person. Suppose, for illustration, that a child had learned the meaning of the termscup,spoon,the,put,into,little,my; it would be impossible for him to express his wish till he had learned the properarrangementof each term, and then he could convey the conception and wishes of his own mind, viz., "Put the spoon into my little cup."
We see, then, how the new combinations of ideas in one mind can be conveyed to another. The two persons must both have thesame ideasattached to thesame signof language, and must each understand themode of combinationto be employed. When this is done, if one person sees a new object, he can send to his friend the signs which represent all its qualities, circumstances, and changes arranged in a proper manner. The absent person will then arrange theconceptionsrecalled by these words, so as to correspond with those of his correspondent.
In all languages, the same word often is used to recall different ideas, and the meaning of words depends often on theirmode of combination.
Theart of interpretingconsists in ascertaining the particular ideas conveyed by wordsin a given combination.
There are two modes of using language which need to be distinctly pointed out, viz.,literalandfigurative.
In order to understand these modes, it is necessaryto refer to the principles ofassociation. Neither our perceptions or conceptions are ever single, disconnected objects except when the power of abstraction is employed. Ordinarily, various objects are united together in the mind, and those objects which are most frequently united in our perceptions, as a matter of course, are those which are most frequently united in our conceptions.
Now, by the power ofabstraction, the mind can regard the same object sometimes as a unit or whole, and sometimes can disconnect it, and consider it as several distinct things. Thus it happens that ideas which are connected by the principles of association are sometimes regarded as a whole, and sometimes are disconnected, and considered as separate existences.
Language will be found to be constructed in exact conformity to this phenomenon of mind. We shall find that objects ordinarily united together, as cause and effect, have thesame namegiven, sometimes to thecause, sometimes to theeffects, and sometimes it embracesthe whole; or the thing, its causes and its effects. As an example of this use of language may be mentioned the termpride. We sometimes hear those objects which are thecauseof pride receiving that name. Thus a child is called the pride of its parents. The same name is applied simply to thestate of mind, as when a man is said to be under the influence of pride, while theeffectsof pride receive the same appellation when we hear a haughty demeanor and consequential deportment called pride. The term is used in its most extended signification as including the thing, its causes, and its effects, when wehear of the "pride of this world," which is soon to pass away, signifying equally the causes of this feeling, the feeling itself, and the effects of it.
Literal languageis that in which all words have the ordinary meaning as commonly used.
Figurative languageis that in which the ordinary names, qualities, and actions of things are ascribed toother thingswith which they have been associated.
As an example of the use of language which isfigurative, we findtears, that are theeffectsof grief, called by the name of thecause; thus:
"Streaminggriefhis faded cheek bedewed."
"Streaminggriefhis faded cheek bedewed."
"Streaminggriefhis faded cheek bedewed."
On the contrary, we find the cause called by the name of the effects in this sentence:
"Andhoary hairsreceived the reverence due."
"Andhoary hairsreceived the reverence due."
"Andhoary hairsreceived the reverence due."
Here age is called by the name of one of its effects.
The indiscriminate application of names to things which have been connected bytime,place, orresemblance, abounds in figurative language. The following is an example where one object is called by the name of another with which it has been connected byplace:
"Thegrovesgive forth their songs."
"Thegrovesgive forth their songs."
"Thegrovesgive forth their songs."
Here birds are called by the name of the groves with which they have been so often united as it respectsplace. The following is an example where an object is called by the name of another with which it is connected bytime:
"Andnightweighed down his heavy eyes."
"Andnightweighed down his heavy eyes."
"Andnightweighed down his heavy eyes."
Heresleepis called by the name ofnight, with which it has been so often united. The following is an example where one object is called by the name of another with which it has been connected by the principle ofresemblance:
"You took her up, a little, tender bud,Just sprouted on a bank."
"You took her up, a little, tender bud,Just sprouted on a bank."
"You took her up, a little, tender bud,
Just sprouted on a bank."
Here a young female is called by the name of an object with which she is connected by the association of resemblance. When one object is thus called by the name of another which it resembles, the figure of speech is called ametaphor.
When dominion is called asceptre; the office of a bishop, thelawn; the profession of Christianity, thecross; a dwelling is called aroof; and various expressions of this kind, one thing is called by the name of another of which it is apart, or with which it has been connected as a circumstance, cause, or effect.
Not only do objects which have been united in our perceptions receive each other'snames, but thequalitiesof one are often ascribed to the other. The following are examples in which the qualities of the cause are ascribed to the effect, and the qualities of the effect are ascribed to the cause:
"An impious mortal gave adaringwound."
"An impious mortal gave adaringwound."
"An impious mortal gave adaringwound."
Here the quality of thecauseis ascribed to theeffect.
"Themerrypipe is heard."
"Themerrypipe is heard."
"Themerrypipe is heard."
Here the quality of theeffectis ascribed to thecause. The following is an example where the quality of one thing is ascribed to another connected with it bytime:
"Nowmusingmidnight hallows all the scene."
"Nowmusingmidnight hallows all the scene."
"Nowmusingmidnight hallows all the scene."
The following is an example of the quality of one thing ascribed to another, connected with it byplace:
"when sapless ageShall bring thy father to hisdroopingchair."
"when sapless ageShall bring thy father to hisdroopingchair."
"when sapless age
Shall bring thy father to hisdroopingchair."
We have examples of the qualities of one thing ascribed to another which itresemblesin such expressions as these—"imperious ocean," "tottering state," "raging tempest." The following is an example of a thing called by the name of one of its qualities or attending circumstances:
"What art thou, that usurpest this time of night,Together with the fair and warlike formIn which themajestyof buriedDenmarkDid sometimes walk?"
"What art thou, that usurpest this time of night,Together with the fair and warlike formIn which themajestyof buriedDenmarkDid sometimes walk?"
"What art thou, that usurpest this time of night,
Together with the fair and warlike form
In which themajestyof buriedDenmark
Did sometimes walk?"
Here a king is called by the name of a quality and by the name of his kingdom.
It is owing to the principle of association that another mode of figurative language is employed calledpersonification. This consists in speaking of a quality which belongs to living beings as if it were the being in which such a quality was found. This is owing to the fact that the conceptions of qualities of mind are always united with some being, and therefore such ideas are connected ones. Thus it is said in the sacred writings,
"Mercy and truth are met together.""Righteousness and peace have embraced each other.""Wisdom crieth aloud, she uttereth her voice."
"Mercy and truth are met together.""Righteousness and peace have embraced each other.""Wisdom crieth aloud, she uttereth her voice."
"Mercy and truth are met together."
"Righteousness and peace have embraced each other."
"Wisdom crieth aloud, she uttereth her voice."
Another mode of personification is owing to the fact that the actions and relations of inanimate existences very often resemble those of living beings, so thatsuch ideas are associated by the principle of resemblance. In such cases, the actions, properties, and relations of living beings are ascribed to inanimate objects. Thus, when the sea roars and lifts its waves toward the skies, the actions are similar to those of a man when he raises his arm in supplication. An example of this kind of figurative language is found in this sublime personification of Scripture: "The mountains saw thee, and trembled; the overflowing of the waters passed by; the deep uttereth his voice, and lifted up his hands on high; the sun and moon stood still in their habitations." Other examples of this kind are found when we hear it said that "the fields smile," "the woods clap their hands," "the skies frown," and the like.
One cause of figurative language is found in the similarity of effects produced on the body by operations of mind and operations of matter. Whatever causes affect the mind in a similar manner are called by the same name. Thus, when a man endeavors to penetrate a hard substance, the muscles of his head and neck are affected in a particular manner. The same muscles are affected in a similar way when a person makes powerful and reiterated efforts to comprehend a difficult subject. Both these actions, therefore, are called by the same name, and a man is said topenetratethe wood with an instrument, or topenetrateinto the subject of his investigations. Thus joy is said toexpandthe breast, because it does, in fact, produce a sensation which resembles this action. There is a great variety of figurative language founded on this principle. Indeed, there is little said respecting themind, and its qualities and operations, where we do not apply terms that describe the qualities, actions, and relations of matter.
It is also the case thatactionsandrelationsthat resemble each other are called by the same name, without regard to the objects in which they exist. Thus the skies are saidto weep. Here there is, in fact, the same action as is weeping in mankind, and it receives the same name, though it is connected with a different subject. Thus, also, the sword is said to be "drunkwith the blood of the slain." Here the same relation exists between the blood and the sword as between a man and an immoderate quantity of liquor, and the relation receives the same name in each case.
An allegoryis a succession of incidents and circumstances told of one thing which continually recall another thing, which it resembles in the particulars mentioned. Thus the aged Indian chief describes himself by an allegory: "I am an aged hemlock. The winds of a hundred years have swept over its branches; it is dead at the top; those that grew around have all mouldered away."
A parableis of the same character as an allegory.
A typeis an object of conception in which many of its qualities and relations resemble another object that succeeds it in regard totime.
Hyperboleis a collection of actions, qualities, or circumstances ascribed to an object which are contrary to the laws of experience, and this language is employed to express excited feeling. Thus, by hyperbole, a person is said to be "drownedin tears."
Ironyis language used in such a manner as to contradictthe known opinions of the speaker, and is intended to represent the absurdity or irrationality of some thing conceived by him.
Symbolsare material things employed to convey the ideas of one mind to another. Thus, as the cultivation of the olive is connected with seasons of peace, an olive branch is used to express the idea of peace.
Symbolic languageis the use of words that are names of symbols in place of the names of things represented by symbols. Thus the word olive might be used instead of the word peace.
Figurative language, especially metaphors and symbolic words, abound in the writings of the earliest nations; and as what are claimed to be the earliest revelations of the Creator are recorded in these languages, the rules for interpreting figurative language are of the highest importance.
The preceding illustrates the principles upon which both literal and figurative language are constructed. The question now arises, How are we to determine when expressions are to be interpreted literally and when they are figurative? One single rule will be found sufficient in all cases, viz.:
All language isliteralwhen the common meaning of each word is consistent with our experience as to the nature of things, and consistent with the other sentiments of the writer.
All language isfigurativewhen the names, qualities, and actions ascribed to things are inconsistent with our experience of the nature of things, or contradict the known opinions of the writer.
In the preceding examples of figurative language, itcan readily be seen that a literal interpretation would in all cases form combinations of ideas which are opposed to experience as to the nature of things. For example, "grief" can not be conceived of as "bedewing a face," because it is an emotion of mind; nor do "hoary hairs" literally ever receive honor; nor do "groves sing," nor "night weigh down the eyes."
In like manner, where the qualities of one thing are ascribed to another with which it has been connected, there is no difficulty in determining that the language is figurative; for a "wound" can not have the quality of "daring," which belongs only to mind, nor can a "pipe" be literally considered as "merry," or "midnight" as "musing;" nor would it be consistent with experience to think of a "chair" as "drooping." Nor in the case of personification is there any more cause of difficulty. Mercy and truth, righteousness, peace, and wisdom, are qualities of mind, and can not be conceived of as "meeting," "embracing," and "crying aloud" in any other than a figurative sense. And when the ocean is said to "lift up his hands," and the sun and moon to "stand still in their habitations," the laws of experience forbid any but a figurative interpretation.
In the case of anallegoryand all symbolic language, the same rule applies with equal clearness and certainty. In the example given, it would be a violation of the laws of experience to conceive of a man as a tree with branches and a withered top.
Hyperboleis readily distinguished by the same rule.Ironyis known by its being contradictory to the known opinions of the writer. Thus there is neverany difficulty in deciding when language is literal and when it is figurative in cases where men have the laws of experience by which to determine.
On the supposition of a revelation from the Creator, there must be subjects upon which mankind have hadno experience, such as the nature of the Deity, the character and circumstances of the invisible world and of its inhabitants. On these subjects all language must be literal when the literal construction is not in contradiction to the known or implied opinion of the other declarations; for on these subjects, as the laws of experience can not regulate in deciding between figurative and literal language, it is impossible to show any reason why words should not be literal except by comparison with the other statements of the same author. If these show no reasons for supposing it figurative, it must of necessity be considered as literal; for if neither experience nor the writer's opinions oppose a literal meaning, there isnocause why the ordinary and common signification of words should not be retained.
The next inquiry is, How are we to ascertain the ideas which are to be attached to words that are used figuratively? If the common ideas which are recalled by words are not the proper ones, what are the data for knowingwhichare the ideas to be recalled? The laws of association, upon which language is founded, furnish an adequate foundation for determining this question. If language is such that a literal construction is contrary to the nature of things, the words used figuratively must express something which has been connected with the object recalled by the literal signification,either ascauseoreffect, or as something which itresembles, or as something it has been connected with as apart, or by circumstances oftimeorplace. Of course, a process of reasoning will soon decide which of these must be selected. Take, for example, the expression,